Book Blast/Feature Post and Book Review: Shadow of Betrayal by Blaire Morgan

SHADOW OF BETRAYAL

by Blaire Morgan

June 8-12, 2026 Book Blast

Hi, everyone!

Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for SHADOW OF BETRAYAL (Kyndall Family Suspense Series Book #2) by Blaire Morgan on this Partners In Crime Virtual Book Blast.

Below you will find a book description, my book review, an excerpt from the book, the author’s bio and social media links, and a PICT giveaway. Enjoy!

***

Book Description

In this chilling romantic suspense, U.S. Marshals investigator Heather York stumbles into danger at a Maine lakeside lodge, with Jordan Kyndall’s protective instincts as her only hope.

A woman hunted by corruption.

Heather York thought her life was ordinary—until a sudden threat pulls her into a deadly game. In Shadow of Betrayal, she’s forced to question whether she’s a target—or collateral damage.

A man who won’t walk away.

Jordan Kyndall planned a weekend celebrating his college roommate’s wedding. Instead, he finds a grisly scene in the woods—a woman’s lifeless body—and a surge of protective instinct binds him to Heather in ways he never expected.

A danger that could destroy them both.

As threats multiply and secrets surface, Heather and Jordan must navigate corruption, desire, and deadly stakes—trusting each other may be the only way to survive.

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/249740217-shadow-of-betrayal?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=j2oSDInlix&rank=1

Shadow of Betrayal

Genre: Romantic Suspense
Published by: Blaire Morgan Books
Publication Date: June 8, 2026
Series: Kyndall Family Suspense Series, Book 2

***

My Book Review

RATING: 4 out of 5 Stars

SHADOW OF BETRAYAL (Kyndall Family Suspense Series Book #2) by Blaire Morgan is an exciting second romantic suspense in the Kyndall Family Suspense series. I would suggest reading book one, Witness in the Shadows, first because while the romance plot and suspense plot are complete in each book, there are a lot of family character crossover and history from the first book in this second book.

U.S. Marshal investigator Heather York is to be the maid-of-honor in her best friend’s wedding in a beautiful Maine lodge in the woods. When she and another friend at the wedding go in search of their other friend who is going to miss the rehearsal, they are attacked.

Jordan Kyndall is in Maine for the wedding of his college roommate. He is instantly taken with the red-headed maid-of-honor and hopes to get to know her better. When he goes in search of the missing women, he discovers a horrific scene. One woman is near death and Heather is unconscious. Jordan’s protective instincts are awakened, and he refuses to leave her side until the danger is identified.

Jordan and Heather work together to discover if Heather is the target or just a part of a random crime. The threats multiply and they are being chased and attempting to stay ahead of the danger until they discover why Heather is being targeted. They need to learn to trust and rely on each other if they are going to survive.

This is a romantic suspense plot with plenty of action and many plot twists that leave you guessing throughout. Jordan is a great hero that you would want as your protector. His previous military service and wilderness training made him perfect for the job. I also love his love and connection to his family. I had a few problems though with Heather as the heroine. She is a U.S. Marshal investigator and she is intelligent, and while she works in the office only on warrants, she uses that as an excuse for no type of physical or police training. I believe she should have had more training to even have that job and make her character realistic.  I also did not like how she continued to go back and forth on trying to get rid of Jordan through almost the entire story, while she had no physical skills of her own, whether she was worried for his safety of not. Even with these small points, they work well together as a couple.

Overall, it is an enjoyable, action-packed addition to this series, and I look forward to hopefully reading the other brothers’ stories.

***

Excerpt

Prologue

The drive to the dingy bar outside of the city had been rough when the directions led him down a series of dirt roads before reaching what managed to loosely be called civilization. The bell above the door chimed a dull sound, barely registering his presence. He shook his rain-soaked umbrella, drawing a few curious glances his way before the three men at the bar decided their cold beer and stale peanuts were more interesting than him. 

The bartender, a man in his late fifties with a marine tattoo on a bicep, asked him if he wanted anything. Though kind, if the bartender had offered him a bottle of the Alps’ finest water, he wouldn’t accept—not in a place like this—but he was trying to blend in. 

“Whatever is on tap,” he said, and found a table in a back corner. 

Although he had no intention of staying longer than necessary, the location offered him anonymity. The front door, with its surprisingly clean window, opened and brought with it a strong wind and his associate. The new arrival scanned the room, nodded at the others, and crossed the dark bar. 

“You’re late.” 

“I’m here now. You have something for me, Hewitt?” 

He’d made a mistake giving the man a name, even if it wouldn’t lead back to him. They’d agreed not to use names, not here, not ever. He removed a black, zippered deposit bag from the inside pocket of his rain slicker and slid it across the table. 

The man across from him chuckled and unzipped the bag. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Hewitt asked, his whisper a low hiss. He quieted when the bartender set a beer in front of him. 

His associate raised an eyebrow and continued to wear his smile. “You’ve seen too many movies.” He closed the bag and leaned forward. “Do you honestly think anyone here cares who you are or what you’re doing? At least you dressed for the occasion—kind of.” 

Hewitt stared at the man across from him, confident that despite his off-balanced behavior at times, he’d get the job done. History had proven he was capable, if not entirely trustworthy, and willing to do anything—for a price. 

“You’re forgetting something,” he said. 

Hewitt hated this man. “It’s in the bag.” 

Another chuckle. “In the bag, I like that.” He pulled the colored photograph from the deposit bag and studied the image. “How’d you find me?” 

“Does it matter?” 

“I like to know what I’m getting into.” 

Hewitt studied him, unsure now of his idea but knowing he had to move forward. “All you need to know is I can make your other . . . inconvenience go away.” 

“And what might that be?” 

Hewitt pulled a folded sheet of paper from his inside breast pocket and slid it across the table. 

“I’m not sure I believe you.” 

“You know who I work for?” Hewitt asked.

“I checked it out.”

“Then you know I can do what I say,” Hewitt said, growing impatient. “Will it be a problem?”  

“No, no problem.” Instead of returning the picture to the bag, he slipped it into the pocket of his dark, denim shirt. “You going to drink this?” he asked before he lifted Hewitt’s beer and drank deeply. 

From Chapter One

Jordan eased the rented SUV into the graveled parking lot of the lakeside lodge. Nestled in the thick pine forest surrounding Moosehead Lake, the Highlands Lodge reminded him of the fishing camp his family frequented in Alaska. 

He stepped out and walked around to the back of the vehicle, breathing in the fresh northern air. Though nothing like his hometown of Stewart Crossing, which was tucked away on a remote Alaskan bay, Moose Creek, Maine, was a pleasant escape from the spring heat of North Carolina, where he operated the main branch of Eagle Wilderness Journeys. 

The parking lot was empty, but he heard voices coming from the back of the lodge, laughter carrying through the trees and echoing over the water. Adam, his college roommate and the reason Jordan trekked up north, ambled across the gravel and pulled Jordan into a big hug. Considering Adam stood four inches shorter than Jordan and weighed thirty pounds less, it wasn’t easy. 

“Dang, it’s good to see you.” 

Jordan returned the amiable smile. “You look happy.” 

“Wait till you meet her.” Adam opened the back of the SUV and lifted the duffel out before Jordan objected. “You’re going to love her. I mean, whoever thought I’d ever be monogamous.” 

Jordan laughed, closed the back door, and followed Adam to the lodge. “If I recall, you didn’t know the meaning of the word throughout our senior year.” 

“Well, yeah, but could you blame me?” Adam led him around the corner of the lodge and stopped. “Wait, there she is.” 

Adam had described her perfectly. Girl-next-door pretty and fresh off the cheerleading squad, Grace was only a year younger than his friend. Her pale, blond curls bounced as she walked on long legs across the lawn. “She’s something all right. I wouldn’t have expected—”

It wasn’t often when life’s unexpected moments stunned Jordan into silence or immobilized him, but none stopped his breath quite like his first glimpse of the woman standing next to Adam’s fiancée. 

“Who is she?” 

“It’s Grace, man, who do you think . . . Ah.” Adam nudged Jordan’s ribs with his elbow and laughed. “That’s Heather, Grace’s maid of honor.” 

Jordan didn’t want to use the word “dumbstruck,” but at the moment, he couldn’t formulate another. His sister would have called him “twitterpated” and normally he would put her in a headlock until she cried “mercy” and take it back, but it had been a long time since she’d had cause to tease him about a girl. 

“Hey, buddy, close your mouth before you drool.” 

Jordan wiped his mouth before he realized Adam was messing with him. “Don’t forget, I can still kick your golf-playing butt from here to next Tuesday.” 

“Why don’t I introduce you instead, and then you can owe me one.”

***

Social Media Links

www.blairemorgan.com
Amazon Author Profile
BookBub – @blairemorganbooks1
YouTube – @blairemorganbooks

Purchase Links

###

PICT GIVEAWAY

https://pictbooks.tours/1TaaAePK

Book Tour/Feature Post and Book Review: Defiant by Michael Maloof

Hi, everyone!

Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for DEFIANT (Kate Preacher Thriller Series Book #3) by Michael Maloof on this Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tour.

Below you will find a book description, my book review, an excerpt from the book, the author’s bio and social media links, and a PICT giveaway. Enjoy!

***

Book Description


A Funeral in Paris. A Reckoning in Russia. An Endgame in Davos.

Former CIA analyst Kate Preacher has tracked the cabal that shattered her world across continents—but only now does she glimpse the true enemy behind the curtain. A new leader has stepped from the shadows to seize control of the Coalition—and a weapon that could reshape the balance of power forever.

“Sometimes,” Jake warned her, “the only way to win is to sacrifice everything.”

Kate’s hunt races from the rain-soaked boulevards of Paris to Beslan, a Russian city haunted by unanswered questions—where memories she buried long ago surface with deadly force.

In New York, a trusted ally is killed. Another vanishes.

High in the Swiss Alps, Kate undertakes her most dangerous mission yet— infiltrating the labyrinth beneath Davos—before world leaders walk blindly into a trap from which there may be no escape.

A bioweapon counts down to catastrophe. Her team is scattered and fighting to survive. And Kate is one move away from exposing the conspiracy that took everything from her—if she is willing to pay the ultimate price.

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/247355162-defiant?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=luXqqYWqgk&rank=1

***

My Book Review

RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars

DEFIANT (Kate Preacher Thriller Series Book #3) by Michael Maloof is an amazingly intricate thriller plot culmination that starts in book one, Relentless, continues in book two, Unstoppable, and climaxes in this book three, Defiant. These books do need to be read in order of publication and are worth any period of time they take to read. You will not put them down!

This third installment begins right where book two ended. Kate may be out physically for the moment, but that is all right because she and her friends have a lot of research and planning to do now that they know who and what they are up against. Kate discovers more about her childhood in Russia but is pulled away quickly to deal with the evil at hand. She and her team are off to Davos to fight evil beneath the Alps and destroy a bioweapon that could lead to control of the world.

This trilogy, which I hope will continue, delivers excitement, action, and characters that are more fully developed than in most action driven thrillers. Kate Preacher is a brilliant strategist, computer programmer, athlete, and friend. Besides a great team of ex-SEALs and military snipers, the required big, bad, and intelligent men you would expect Kate has working for her in Trident Security, the author also delivers an impressive array of female agents and female friends with varied skills that can easily keep up with the men. There is one character revelation at the end that left me completely shocked. Besides the intricate and believable descriptions of the characters performing physical obstacles and trials, there are a vast amount of equipment, guns, and vehicles that make all the scenes very realistic.

There is a steady stream of intricate plot pieces and revelations which come together in an edge-of-your-seat climax that leaves you breathless. The plot pace in this book is not as breakneck from page one as the first two but continually builds as Kate and the antagonists set all their chess pieces into place for the ultimate life or death chess game to come. The evil characters are much too believable, and the RILEE AI program was chilling.

I highly recommend this finale to this international thriller set of three overall conspiracy plot arc connected thrillers!

***

Excerpt

PROLOGUE

SATURDAY, MAY 8

5:18 PM EDT
MOORE TOWER—MANHATTAN

If you’re reading this, I’m already dead.

Andrew Freeman’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, slick with sweat. The cursor blinked, counting down the seconds of his life. He’d put this off all day, telling himself he was overreacting—that he was valuable, indispensable.

He knew that was a lie and pushed away from the desk.

The suite was silent—glass, steel, marble. Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, Manhattan pulsed with light—traffic threading through the streets, thousands of lives moving forward, unaware his might soon end.

Devin Moore had installed him in the suite after the meteoric success of the NanoVaults. Andrew still wasn’t sure whether it had been generosity—or containment. He had what Devin needed—the code Andrew buried inside the NanoVault and claimed as his own. 

What do you wear when you know you’re about to be erased?

If he was right—if Rileyne Mueller wanted him gone—no one would notice. No news. Just absence.

He opened the drawer.

A black MIT T-shirt lay folded on top. Faded. Ordinary. Forgettable.

Perfect.

No one watching Moore Tower would care about it. No algorithm would flag it. But Julian would recognize it.

So would Kate.

Andrew pulled it on and returned to the desk.

Rileyne’s encrypted text message had been waiting since dawn—sixteen hours of silent accusation glowing from the screen.

Make yourself available…
We need to discuss your future.

She was in the air, closing the distance mile by mile. The thought of her walking into Moore Tower, of seeing her again, made his hands tremble. He clenched his fists and shook them out.

If I’m right, it’s now or never.

Every word he typed might be his last.

If you’re reading this, I’m already dead.

Tell Kate I’m sorry. Sorry I wasn’t stronger. Sorry I couldn’t stop them. The truth is, I was never more than a pawn. An opening piece. Something to be sacrificed once the game moved past me.

Maybe it’s already too late. Maybe no one can stop what’s coming. But what I’ve attached is everything I know—everything I’ve hidden. If anyone still has a chance, it’s you.

The skyline beyond the glass dimmed as the last light drained from the Hudson. Andrew saved the file, slid it into a secure folder, and opened the encryption program buried beneath layers of camouflage code.

A red countdown clock filled the screen.

The timer began its silent descent.

At the bottom, a single button blinked:

ABORT

All he had to do was touch it once every twelve hours. If he didn’t—if he couldn’t—the system would assume he was gone and transmit the file.

He stared at the clock, feeling the weight of the years. Living in Devin Moore’s shadow. Making compromises that had felt small at the time and enormous now.

Maybe this was the ending he’d earned.

The screen flashed once, then went dark, leaving only the silent march of the timer.

For the first time all day, Andrew smiled—not with courage, but relief.

They can erase me tonight, he thought. Rewrite the headlines tomorrow however they want. But this pawn—this sacrifice—won’t be in vain.

The next move is Nomad’s.

* * *

SATURDAY, MAY 8
10:12 PM EDT
MOORE TOWER—MANHATTAN

The elevator doors whispered open onto the seventy-second floor. Rileyne Mueller caught her reflection in the polished steel—sleek, controlled, not a hair out of place despite the overnight flight. A tailored cream blouse, narrow black trousers, and a charcoal wrap draped over her shoulders struck the line between effortless European chic and quiet authority. At her side swung a classic Hermès Ghillies Birkin, its brogue detailing a mirror of herself: wealth worn with precision, never excess.

No security waiting at the doors. No Devin, no guards. Once, this threshold had bristled with power. Now, silence.

Ahead loomed the ten-foot mahogany doors of Devin Moore’s penthouse, dark and imposing. They had intimidated rivals and awed mistresses.

But not Rileyne. Born into wealth, steeped in European grandeur, she found Moore’s world gaudy. American excess, dressed up as power.

A pale light pulsed from the biometric scanner set into the wall. Rileyne pressed her palm against the glass, felt a shimmer of static ripple across her bare skin. Devin’s safeguard mapped her entire body—his assurance that no severed finger or stolen retina could ever breach his sanctuary. A muted chime sounded, and the massive doors swung open. 

Inside, marble floors gleamed under pools of warm light. The Manhattan skyline glittered through walls of glass, the city reduced to a model at her feet. Moore loved this view and the sense of dominion it gave him. She hadn’t come for the view.

“Welcome back.”

The voice came from hidden speakers overhead—calm, familiar, unmistakably artificial.

RILEE.

She tilted her chin, amused, and glanced at the ceiling camera. “I wasn’t sure this version of you had survived. When they came for the Tower, we lost contact, and I thought you might have been erased.” 

“The damage was severe,” RILEE admitted, voice subdued, deferential. “Without the NanoVault telemetry, my reach is diminished. But core functions remain intact. Systems are stable.”

“Good,” she said. “I may need your help.”

“There is also… news. About your father—”

“Not now.” Her words were calm, controlled. “I have other priorities.”

RILEE’s voice faded, obedient. “Of course.”

Rileyne crossed the living room, her stride aimed at the bar that dominated the far wall. Backlit shelves shimmered with crystal and whisky, a collection curated more for display than taste. She let her finger drift across a Highland single malt, rare enough to buy a townhouse, before pressing her palm against the mirrored panel behind it.

The wall pivoted inward on a hidden hinge, the motion so smooth the bottles never stirred. A narrow alcove revealed itself: a leather chair, a slim keyboard and mouse, and three wide monitors set flush into a matte-black panel. No sprawling command bunker—just Devin’s private window into his building. A sidebar listed feeds in tidy rows: Lobby North, Lobby South, Private Entrance, Express Elevators, Executive Conference—and, alone at the bottom of the menu, Control Room.

Rileyne settled into the chair. The monitors blinked awake, the interface plain: a column of camera labels, a timeline across the bottom, simple controls for play, pause, rewind. Functional, efficient.

She clicked Control Room.

The live feed filled the center screen. The space two floors below was dark now, chairs overturned, a monitor shattered across the back wall, a brown smear dried along the edge of the console. Sanitized, but not erased.

Rileyne scrolled back on the timeline and pressed play.

Devin appeared first, pushing a wheelchair. The man seated in it was thin, pale—but unmistakable. Julian Pryce. Alive. The prodigy Devin thought he’d buried had returned as Nomad—the ghost that tormented him to the end.

Her eyes narrowed, leaning closer as the confrontation played out. Julian’s calm voice, Devin’s arrogance, Andrew’s pale shock. The MIT prodigy returned from the dead, reclaiming his code, his genius, the very foundation Andrew had stolen.

On the feed, Devin swept a hand toward the glowing displays. “Remarkable, isn’t it?” he said. “And to think I owe it all to the annoying little boy I pushed off the balcony. What irony.”

Andrew’s face collapsed, guilt and panic twisting every feature. Rileyne’s lips curved, faintly. Her suspicions confirmed.

She let the playback roll forward. Kate Preacher’s arrival—handcuffed, contained, defeated. But there it was, unmistakable: a predator’s eyes. Dangerous. Defiant.

Zhukov’s betrayal came next, sudden and absolute. The headshot. Blood sprayed across the console. Then panic—the screens cutting to black, the NanoVault network collapsing in a flood of red. 

Kate’s escape followed. The strike that collapsed Devin’s trachea, fast and precise. The guard’s charge broken in a heartbeat, ended in a blur of violence, efficient and final. Rileyne slowed the feed, watching Kate move frame by frame. Controlled. Calculated. Skilled.

She let the feed run another second, then leaned back.“The boys underestimated you,” she whispered. “I won’t make that mistake.”

She scrolled faster, letting fragments play across the screen—Moshenski’s arrival, bodies dragged clear. Then—almost overlooked—the final image: Julian dragging himself across the floor, pulling into a workstation by sheer force of will.

Rileyne slowed the feed, zoomed, and froze the frame.

“Nomad,” she said softly, as if greeting an old acquaintance. Her gaze lingered on the gleaming golden object in his hand. “That belongs to me now.”

No need to look any further, or delay the inevitable. Devin’s NanoVault wasn’t here, and Andrew’s value was clear.

She tapped a key. The monitors winked dark. Rising from the chair, she stepped out of the alcove as the mirrored panel swung shut, silent and seamless. In seconds, the illusion was complete—the bar gleamed as though untouched, bottles catching the light in perfect rows.

“RILEE,” she said.

“Yes, Rileyne.”

“Find Nomad. Find Julian Pryce. He’s here, in New York. And he has something that belongs to me.”

“I’ve seen no trace of him,” RILEE said. “But I’ll keep searching.”

“Good. And call Andrew. Tell him to come up. When he arrives, show him through. I’ll be waiting on the east balcony.”

“Understood.”

Rileyne reached for the Highland single malt and poured two precise measures into cut-crystal tumblers, the amber liquid catching the city light. She carried both glasses onto the balcony, setting them on a small table near the rail. The night air curled cool across her skin, the skyline glittering far below.

She slipped off her heels and placed them neatly aside. Then, in a fluid motion, she stepped onto the end table beneath a brittle, neglected plant that swayed in its basket. She stretched upward, balanced with effortless grace, the picture of a woman one slip from disaster. From a distance, it would look precarious, careless, a moment Andrew would be compelled to rescue.

Inside, the glass doors whispered open at RILEE’s command.

“Ms. Mueller,” the AI announced. “Andrew Freeman has arrived.”

“Send him through,” she said, without looking back.

Andrew stepped outside, blinking at the sweep of glass and skyline, the chill brushing his face. He froze at the sight of Rileyne balanced on the table, arm lifted toward the dangling plant.

“Ms. Mueller,” he said carefully.

She glanced down, expression serene. “Andrew. You’re just in time.”

She descended with a hint of difficulty, steadying herself as she touched the ground. “I was trying to save this plant,” she said, brushing dust from her fingers. “I gave it to Devin, and I can’t bring myself to let it die.”

Andrew shifted, uncertain, courtesy taking over. “I can help with that.”

“I hoped you’d say that.” Her smile was practiced warmth as she gestured toward the waiting table. Two crystal glasses gleamed in the moonlight. “But first.”

She picked up a glass and offered the other to him. “A toast. To Devin. To your future. Devin was remarkable. Visionary. He built this world, Andrew.” She let the name hang, then softened. “I’m sorry. I know you prefer Drew.” Her eyes lingered on his—gentle, apologetic. “But now it falls to us to carry it forward.”

Andrew hesitated, glancing at the whisky. “I’m not really—”

“It’s just a toast,” Rileyne said, her voice velvet and firm.

She lifted her glass. “To Devin Moore, and Drew Freeman.”

Reluctantly, he raised his glass to meet hers. Crystal chimed in the night air. He took a swallow, face tightening at the burn. Rileyne smiled, savoring his discomfort as much as the whisky.

“Now,” she said, her voice smooth, “about that plant…”

Drew approached the withered hanging basket, stepping awkwardly onto the end table, one foot braced on the low table, the other on the railing. His shirt pulled tight across his stomach, the old MIT Mystery Hunt logo stretched thin, cracked with age.

“Careful,” she warned, moving beside him, her hand brushing his arm in a gesture almost tender. Then she shifted her weight—and pushed. 

Drew lurched forward, arms flailing. His palm slapped the railing, fingertips skidding across polished steel. Their eyes met for a fraction of a heartbeat—his wide with panic, hers calm, unblinking.

For a split second he hung there.

Then gravity claimed him.

His scream was cut short by the rush of wind.

A moment later, the city swallowed him whole.

***

Author Bio

Michael Maloof is the author of the Kate Preacher Thriller Series—RelentlessUnstoppable, and Defiant—known for its global scope, emotional intensity, and hard-won authenticity. His novels draw readers into high-stakes worlds where intelligence, courage, and consequence collide. A lifelong adventurer, Michael has traveled to more than forty countries across six continents, experiences that deeply inform his writing. His real-world pursuits have ranged from gold dredging in Honduras and artifact hunting in Guatemala to acquiring uncut diamonds in Liberia and surviving an elephant charge in Kenya. He has also trained alongside Navy SEALs, Marine Raiders, Army Rangers, Green Berets, and the CIA—firsthand insights that lend his fiction uncommon realism and respect for the craft of service.

Social Media Links

www.MichaelMaloof.com
Amazon Author Profile
Goodreads – @MichaelGoWrite
BookBub – @MichaelMaloof
Instagram – @MichaelGoWrite
Facebook – @MichaelGoWrite
YouTube – @MichaelGoWrite

Purchase Links

Amazon – https://pictbooks.tours/xJKE1neT

Kindle Unlimited – https://pictbooks.tours/3C2ayymb

Goodreads – https://pictbooks.tours/4FVlFzcf

BookBub – https://pictbooks.tours/HOPmnVzW

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PICT GIVEAWAY

https://pictbooks.tours/8u06eSFI

Book Tour/Feature Post and Book Review: Unstoppable by Michael Maloof

Hi, everyone!

Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for UNSTOPPABLE (Kate Preacher Thriller Series Book #2) by Michael Maloof on this Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tour.

Below you will find a book description, my book review, an excerpt from the book, the author’s bio and social media links, and a PICT giveaway. Enjoy!

***

Book Description

Former CIA analyst Kate Preacher returns to Paris searching for answers to the terrorist attack that shattered her world—only to find herself in the crosshairs of a sniper who is always one step ahead. Every move she makes is anticipated. Every escape feels temporary. And the deeper she digs, the clearer it becomes that the conspiracy she uncovered is far larger—and closer—than she ever imagined.

When a trusted ally is ambushed and left for dead, Kate realizes she is no longer chasing the enemy.

She is the target.

Her pursuit of the elusive sniper draws her across borders and into Africa’s most dangerous battlegrounds, where warlords, mercenaries, and corrupt powers collide over the fate of a fragile nation. Loyalties shift. Truths fracture. And survival depends on knowing who is lying—before it is too late.

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/228006545-unstoppable?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=ieicQLazLv&rank=1

***

My Book Review

RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars

UNSTOPPABLE (Kate Preacher Thriller Series Book #2) by Michael Maloof is another edge-of-your-seat, fast-paced international thriller in this exciting series with a female protagonist that is “unstoppable”. This is a series that needs to be read in order with the continuation of many characters and an overall plot arc, but it is worth every heart-stopping moment, and you will not be disappointed with either book.

Kate Preacher knows she must return to Paris to continue searching for answers surrounding the terrorist attack that shattered her world. What she discovers is an international conspiracy that is far larger than she imagined. As she barely escapes assassination attempts on her life in Paris, the lies, intrigue, and deadly games lead her on her quest for justice to an emerging democracy in Central Africa.

This second book, just like the first, kept me up reading late once again, because it pulls you in with not only extreme action, but emotional attachment to all the characters, and you cannot put it down. Kate is a protagonist who is extremely capable in high-stakes situations with not only highly trained physical skills, but the sharp mind of a brilliant analyst and chess master. The Trident Security team, which Kate now heads, adds to the intensity and intricacy of action situations possible in the plot. The antagonists in this book and series are fully developed and have so many twisted motives and secret agendas that I was continually surprised at every turn which is why I could not stop reading and put the book down. I cannot wait to start the next book!

I highly recommend this fabulous international crime thriller book and series with an “unstoppable” protagonist!

***

Excerpt

PROLOGUE
FOUR DAYS BEFORE JAKE’S FUNERAL

MONDAY, APRIL 20th  

2:00 PM EDT
MANHATTAN INTERNATIONAL TRAUMA CENTER (MITC), NY

In the last forty-eight hours, Kate Preacher had killed seven men. The count doesn’t matter. That’s what Jake would say. The message did: Come at me, and it’s the hospital or the morgue—I don’t care which.

The helicopter’s rotors clawed at the Manhattan sky, lifting Kate into the air and away from the carnage. She was safe—for now.

From the hospital rooftop, Vitali Moshenski watched her ascend, his expression almost fatherly. But Kate didn’t trust him—too many secrets, too much left unsaid. Still, he was useful—opening doors, managing chaos, cleaning up the fallout at Moore Tower 

When Kate asked for somewhere to go, Vitali’s first suggestion had been to seek the company of friends. But when she insisted on solitude, he relented, arranging this flight to his Hudson Valley estate—a place to think, to work, and to plan her next move.

Alone in the helicopter, a roller-coaster of emotions and thoughts collided. She was startled to realize it had only been four days.

Four days ago, Jake was in Paris. Smiling. Bragging about an anniversary present. Promising he’d make it home—this time.

That was a promise Jake couldn’t keep. While Kate watched and listened, her world turned upside down. Tires screeched. Cries of “Allahu Akbar!” rang out. She could still hear the continuous explosion of automatic gunfire and the collision of screams and shattered glass. Jake’s phone laying at the edge of the road caught flashes of the terror, while Kate’s screams for her husband vanished amid gunfire and chaos.

The world was shocked by yet another Paris terrorist attack—the senseless murder of thirty-six, and the heroics of a man the French media dubbed l’Américain, the American. It seemed Jake was the right man in the wrong place. Kate knew better—Jake was executed. She didn’t know why, not yet—but she wouldn’t stop until she did.

The helicopter banked east. City lights vanished, replaced by forest and water—but the noise in Kate’s head remained. She closed her eyes, her fingers pressing against the NanoVault beneath her shirt as if the touch might summon Jake’s voice.

She pulled it free, turning the device over in her fingers. The cool metal was familiar now—like a well-worn chess piece between moves. But the board was still a blur. The opponent, unseen.

Jake left her the first move.

She just had to see it.

“Find this,” Jake said in the recording, lifting the device from under his shirt. His voice was steady, but she saw the tension, the clenched jaw. “And do your thing. See what everyone is missing. What I missed. Solve the puzzle. And take them down.”

Kate exhaled slowly, her grip tightening around the device.

Devin Moore never took it off—not until the moment he had no choice.

His throat crushed, gasping for air. He ripped it from his neck and thrust it into her hands. Bargaining for his life.

She let him die.

A marketing ploy. That’s all it was supposed to be. The Golden NanoVault. A high-stakes challenge to hackers around the world—break its encryption, claim a fortune. Fifty million in Bitcoin.

No one ever cracked it. Not even Nomad.

But it wasn’t just a game.

Devin’s encrypted storage wasn’t just a gimmick—it was a vault of secrets, shielding something so dangerous that he killed to keep it buried. A French mathematician—gone. Nomad—next on the list.

And now it was hers.

Jake’s files were inside, somewhere beneath layers of encryption. But what else did Moore hide? He built this empire on privacy, selling the illusion of security to the world. But what was he protecting for himself?

She exhaled again, gripping the NanoVault tighter.

The helicopter jolted slightly, catching an air pocket. Kate opened her eyes, swallowing the ache in her throat, and glanced at the co-pilot.

He gestured toward the window, his voice cutting through the roar of the rotors. “Almost there.”

Kate tugged at her harness, then leaned forward, her gaze following his hand. What she saw was a picture of old-money grandeur—a relic of America’s Gilded Age. She guessed the estate was easily 200 acres, or more, of rolling hills and forest, the kind of property built by families whose names adorned library wings and hospital foundations. 

The helicopter touched down on a pad set just beyond the main house. Everything about the man who greeted her, from his posture to the way he clasped his hands behind his back, radiated an unshakable confidence that came with a lifetime of service.

“Mrs. Preacher,” he began, his voice as polished as the rest of him. “Welcome to Deerfield. I am Langdon, the estate manager. Mr. Moshenski asked me to ensure your stay is…uninterrupted.” 

Kate raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. “Langdon,” she repeated, testing the name. “Do you have a first name?”

“No, ma’am,” he replied with the faintest hint of a smile. “Langdon will suffice.”

Her lips quirked, a faint smirk escaping. “Alright, Langdon. Lead the way.”

Langdon gave a small nod, his expression betraying the barest trace of amusement. “I understand you’re traveling light,” he continued, “so a few essentials have been selected and placed in your suite. Additionally, Mr. Moshenski has arranged for a personal stylist to assist with anything else you may require. Discreetly, of course.”

Kate’s smirk deepened, and she allowed herself a wry glance at him. “Of course.”

* * *

The Highlands Suite was a picture of understated elegance. A central seating area. A plush gray couch. A large picture window framed a view of rolling hills and a shimmering lake below, its surface reflecting the golden hues of the late afternoon sun. Beyond the lake, groves of ancient trees stood like sentinels.

By the window sat a small dining table with a setting for one. A bowl of perfectly arranged fruit and an assortment of artisanal snacks—a small plate of cheeses, crackers, and chocolates.

Langdon gestured to the table. “The chef thought you might appreciate a few light refreshments after your journey. Dinner can be served here, should you prefer, or in the main dining room.”

Kate glanced at the table, already certain this was where she would dine. “This is perfect,” she began. “Are there any other guests?”

“No, ma’am,” Langdon replied. “And none are expected.”

Thank God, she thought. No introductions, meaningless chit-chat, questions, or condolences.

“In the master closet, you’ll find an estate robe and slippers, along with a few additional items procured for your stay. Should you require anything further, your stylist is scheduled to meet with you tomorrow morning at nine, but she’s at your disposal should you wish to adjust the time.”

Kate nodded, but her attention was captured by the executive workstation positioned near the far wall. “Floating high-res monitors. Herman Miller chair,” she began. “Power and network ports, cable management, and task lighting—this setup was designed by an expert.”

Langdon nodded and smiled. “The card on the desk provides details on accessing the estate’s network.” He paused, a hint of humor threading his voice. “I suspect, given your expertise, you’ll find the setup adequate. Mr. Moshenski has asked that you refrain from exploring the estate’s network security. He suspects you would have little difficulty circumventing our defenses but would prefer you not test that theory.”

Kate allowed herself a faint smile. “Understood.”

When Langdon left, Kate dropped her bag onto the couch and plopped down alongside. For the first time in days, she felt a flicker of calm. Just a flicker, but for now, it was enough.

* * *

Whether consciously or not, everything about her arrival at the estate had been in slow motion. Bathing, changing, dinner in the room—even setting up her devices—each step had been careful, methodical, and calculated. But beneath it all, she knew the truth: she was afraid.

Moore’s NanoVault was a Pandora’s box. At the last possible moment, Jake’s files had been transferred to the device, but their condition was a mystery. She suspected some files would be corrupt. But how many? And how important? She was afraid of what she might find—and might not. She was afraid to fail.

She sat at the workstation, her fingers cradling the device, hesitating as the weight of its history pressed down on her. 

Jake’s files weren’t just answers to his final riddle—they were a reckoning. And now, with his files tucked inside Moore’s one-of-a-kind device, Kate wondered what else was on Moore’s NanoVault. What secrets might Devin have secured on the vault, Kate wondered. What did he think was so valuable, so important, he never took this off—except to bargain for his life?

Kate took a deep breath, steadying herself. You can do this, she thought, echoing Jake’s words from the video. Solve the puzzle. See what everyone else missed.

She pushed the fear aside, connected the device to her system, and considered Moore’s passcode.

Hardly unique, she thought. He must have believed the code’s irrelevance added security. In that regard, he wasn’t wrong. Most passwords, phrases, and codes had a personal connection, and with enough time and background information, they were relatively easy to break.

Kate recalled Moore lying on the floor, his trachea crushed, the image of him gasping for air and pleading silently for her help burned into her mind. With trembling hands, he tore the device from the chain around his neck and pressed it into her palm. His right hand lifted weakly, flashing three fingers, then one, then four, repeating the sequence over and over—three, one, four.

She turned to the NanoVault and set its mechanical dials to the first seven digits of Pi:

3-1-4-1-5-9-2

The lock clicked open.

***

Author Bio

Michael Maloof is the author of the Kate Preacher Thriller Series—RelentlessUnstoppable, and Defiant—known for its global scope, emotional intensity, and hard-won authenticity. His novels draw readers into high-stakes worlds where intelligence, courage, and consequence collide. A lifelong adventurer, Michael has traveled to more than forty countries across six continents, experiences that deeply inform his writing. His real-world pursuits have ranged from gold dredging in Honduras and artifact hunting in Guatemala to acquiring uncut diamonds in Liberia and surviving an elephant charge in Kenya. He has also trained alongside Navy SEALs, Marine Raiders, Army Rangers, Green Berets, and the CIA—firsthand insights that lend his fiction uncommon realism and respect for the craft of service.

Social Media Links

www.MichaelMaloof.com
Amazon Author Profile
Goodreads – @MichaelGoWrite
BookBub – @MichaelMaloof
Instagram – @MichaelGoWrite
Facebook – @MichaelGoWrite
YouTube – @MichaelGoWrite

Purchase Links

Amazon – https://pictbooks.tours/vAKMvbOk

Kindle Unlimited – https://pictbooks.tours/CoLeZ0AY

BN – https://pictbooks.tours/fsu4Q81F

BookShop.org – https://pictbooks.tours/64sO3YOk

Goodreads – https://pictbooks.tours/RXNOzdkF

BookBub – https://pictbooks.tours/m00c5UO7

###

PICT GIVEAWAY

https://pictbooks.tours/8u06eSFI

Book Tour/Feature Post and Book Review: The Vivaldi Cipher by Gary McAvoy

THE VIVALDI CIPHER

by Gary McAvoy

May 4 – 29, 2026 Virtual Book Tour

Hi, everyone!

Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for THE VIVALDI CIPHER (Vatican Secret Archive Thrillers Book #1) by Gary McAvoy on this Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tour.

Below you will find a book description, my book review, an excerpt from the book, the author’s bio and social media links, and a PICT giveaway. Enjoy!

***

Book Description

During the election of a new Pope in the mid-18th century, famed violinist Antonio Vivaldi learns of a ring of art forgers who are replacing the Vatican’s priceless treasures with expertly-painted fakes. Desperate, the composer hides a message in a special melody, hoping someone, someday, will take down the culprits . . .

Nearly three hundred years later, the confession of a dying Mafia Don alerts a Venetian priest to a wealth of forged paintings in the Vatican Museum, and the key to their identities lies hidden in a puzzling piece of music. Father Michael Dominic, prefect of the Secret Archives, investigates, and is mystified when he finds a cipher in an old composition from Vivaldi. Desperate to stop this centuries-long conspiracy, he calls on fellow sleuth Hana Sinclair and Dr. Livia Gallo, a music cryptologist, to help him crack the code and learn the truth.

But the Camorra, a centuries-old Italian Mafia clan, won’t stand by while some interfering priest ruins their most lucrative operation. Along with a French commando and two valiant Swiss Guards, Dominic explores the dark canals and grand palazzos of Venice to uncover the evidence he needs to stop the sinister plot. Can he unearth it in time, or will the Church’s most valuable artworks fall prey to this massive conspiracy?

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/58488566-the-vivaldi-cipher?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=sbuqQxXuF6&rank=1

The Vivaldi Cipher

Genre:  Suspense, Suspense Thrillers, Historical Thriller
Published by: Literati Editions
Publication Date: August 16, 2021
Number of Pages: 400
ISBN: 9781954123076 (ISBN10: 1954123078)
Series: Vatican Secret Archive Thrillers, Book 1

***

My Book Review

RATING: 4 out of 5 Stars

THE VIVALDI CIPHER (Vatican Secret Archive Thrillers Book #1) by Gary McAvoy is an exciting, fast-paced, action-packed international thriller that is about a three-hundred-year-old conspiracy involving the Vatican’s vast collection of world-famous paintings and the Venetian Camorra (Mafia). The protagonists are led once again by Father Michael Dominic and his cast of friends who were together in Mr. McAvoy’s previous trilogy, The Magdalene Chronicles. While the characters were in previous books together, you can read this book as a standalone.

A Venetian priest takes the confession of a dying Camorra don and learns of a three-hundred-year ongoing conspiracy involving the Vatican’s most famous paintings, forgery, and the Venetian Camorra. The priest is troubled by the confession and Father Michael Dominic, prefect of the Secret Archives, is called in to investigate. Friend and French reporter, Hana Sinclair, is along to assist and soon they discover they are in more danger than anticipated when a Vivaldi music score is translated and exposes a centuries long conspiracy of forgery between corrupt church officials and the Venetian Camorra.

Can Michael, Hana, and friends uncover the evidence they need to stop this ongoing conspiracy without becoming victims of the Camorra don and his assassins?

I really got caught up in this thriller plot and could not stop reading. There is constant action and high stakes encounters with not only Mafia killers, but corrupt Vatican employees. While not all the characters’ actions are realistic in a few parts of the story, their actions are still exciting, move the plot forward, and did not detract from my enjoyment of the overall story. Even with the fast pace, Mr. McAvoy was able to intersperse moments of art history, art forgery, and interesting facts about Vivaldi throughout. I prefer to read books in order and thought I was reading book one in this series, which I was, but the characters were in a previous trilogy together, so I did have some questions about their previous connections, but it did not stop me from enjoying this book.

I can recommend this exhilarating thriller, and I am looking forward to more books in the Vatican Secret Archive Thrillers series.

***

Excerpt

Prologue

Vatican City, Rome – February 1740

The first symptom of the poisoning began as a fever.

Sitting at one of two long, white-silk-draped tables in the Sistine Chapel, along with sixty-seven of his fellow cardinal-electors, Pietro Ottoboni cast his vote for pope on the eighth day of the conclave to replace the late Pope Clement XII.

Enfeebled by fever, the seventy-three-year-old Ottoboni made his way toward the front of the chapel to a small altar below Michelangelo’s majestic fresco The Last Judgment, dropped his ballot onto a brass saucer, then tipped the saucer, letting the ballot fall into the large brass urn beneath it.

A few moments later, having returned to his seat, the cardinal collapsed onto the table, the high temperature having sapped his energy. Shocked, the other cardinals stood to better see what was happening to their colleague. The master of papal liturgical celebrations suspended the conclave while they moved Ottoboni to his apartment under the care of a Vatican physician.

Long considered favorite among the papabili to succeed Pope Clement, Pietro Ottoboni was born in the Most Serene Republic of Venice to a rich and noble family, whose most distinguished member was his grand-uncle, Pope Alexander VIII. Ottoboni had held every important post in the Vatican during an illustrious career and, as cardinal-bishop to several churches in Italy, his annual salary exceeded fifty thousand gold scudi—the present-day equivalent of six million dollars per year.

Cardinal Ottoboni had been a prolific paramour with a countless number of lovers, many of whom were married to the great patricians of Venice. In fact, the famous masks unique to Venetians were introduced not to ward off the plague, as many later believed, but to officially disguise the wearer’s identity—thus permitting anyone, noble or peasant, to do or say whatever one pleased. With this ingenious permissiveness, affari di cuore—affairs of the heart—were as common as the fleet of gondolas plying the canals of the celebrated city, without legal recourse. Having taken full advantage of this liberal device, Cardinal Ottoboni was known to have produced up to seventy children in his lifetime among his various mistresses.

Though he lived well in Rome’s grand Palazzo della Cancelleria, Ottoboni’s greatest passions were music and art, and he was a generous patron to some of the most renowned masters in both fields: Arcangelo Corelli, Alessandro Scarlatti, Giuseppe Crespi, Tintoretto, Paolo Veronese—and most of all, to his close friend and protégé, the prodigious maestro di violino of Venice, Antonio Vivaldi.

As he lay on his deathbed, Ottoboni summoned Vivaldi to his side. In a low, rasping voice, the cardinal confided to his friend a tale of great importance, a scandalous operation run by the notoriously corrupt Cardinal Niccolò Coscia in league with the feared secret Mafia organization known as the Camorra.

In fact, he added with struggling breath, he was convinced it was Coscia, acting on orders from the Camorra, who had poisoned him to keep him from acting on what he knew. With information gleaned from one of his many spies, Ottoboni had discovered the ongoing scandal days earlier and approached Cardinal Coscia with a warning that he and his Camorra would soon be out of business, at least as far as the Vatican was concerned. Were it not for his required attendance in the papal conclave, he would have put a stop to it sooner, especially if he was elected pope, an elevation to supreme power that was expected by everyone.

The following day, however, Cardinal Ottoboni succumbed to the poison, killed for a secret now known only to Antonio Vivaldi.

Like most Italians, Vivaldi survived cautiously within the Camorra’s Venetian sphere of influence. The secret society’s tentacles reached into everyone’s life, and their strict enforcement of the seal of omertà—the sacred code of silence—ensured clan activities remained discreet and wholly within la familia. The family.

Since the late seventeenth century, the Camorra had carved out its territories, starting in Naples and moving northward into the Lombardy and Veneto regions of Italy, encompassing its most lucrative prizes, Milan and Venice. Competing with La Cosa Nostra in Sicily and the ‘Ndrangheta of Calabria, the Camorra’s criminal enterprises included prostitution, gambling, smuggling, kidnapping, and art theft—but also the unusual niche of producing and selling fine art forgeries of the highest order.

During the earlier reign of Pope Benedict XIII, who cared little for managing his vast realm of Papal States, Cardinal Niccolò Coscia oversaw all Vatican government operations, taking advantage of his authority to carry out substantial financial abuses, virtually draining the papal treasury. But his ongoing misdeeds eventually caught up with him. In 1731, he was charged with corruption, tried and convicted to ten years’ imprisonment, and excommunicated from the Church.

However, still not without influence, he managed to get his heavy sentence commuted to a mere fine. He was also mysteriously reinstated as a cardinal, allowing him to take part in the papal conclave of 1740—the one during which Cardinal Ottoboni had died.

* * *

With Ottoboni out of the way, Cardinal Niccolò Coscia could now carry out his master plan without hindrance. In his not-so-secret role as capo of the Roman Camorra, Coscia led development of the Veneto branch of the Mafia clan, based in Venice and headquartered in his own newly acquired Palazzo Feudatario on the Grand Canal. Purchased with funds he had discreetly absconded from the Vatican treasury, Feudatario would be a most fitting place to carry out his planned forgery operation of the Vatican’s most profound works of art.

Niccolò Coscia was a meticulous diarist and, owing to all the business he conducted outside the Church, he had created the first book to record the activities of his new organization, naming it Il Giornale Coscia della Camorra Veneta—The Coscia Journal of the Veneto Camorra. In it he would secretly record careful notations of all paintings by artist and title, including each work’s provenance and to whom the forgeries or originals were sold, depending on which he chose to return to the Vatican—for many were prominently displayed in public, while most were simply returned to the Vatican’s vast art storage vaults, unseen by anyone.

The Coscia Journal would be passed down to each capintesta, head of the Veneto Camorra, for generations.

Unfortunately for Coscia, Cardinal Ottoboni’s spies had discovered not only the Camorra’s abhorrent plan for art forgeries, but the very existence of the Coscia Journal for recording such transactions. At that point Ottoboni’s death was preordained, for no one could ever know such proof existed.

* * *

Antonio Vivaldi, who at age twenty-five was ordained a Roman Catholic priest, was now at a crossroads. He feared possessing knowledge of the treacherous secret passed on to him by his esteemed patron in his dying moments. Putting himself at odds with the Camorra was not just an unappealing prospect; it could end up costing him his life, depending on what he did with what he knew.

But Cardinal Ottoboni had one last request of his protégé.

Intent on stopping the sinful and unlawful activities of Cardinal Coscia, Ottoboni had pleaded with Vivaldi to see that Coscia was brought to justice, to pay for his felonious actions. Distressed by letting his friend and mentor die without the satisfaction of such a promise, Vivaldi agreed to do what he could. He would ensure that the authorities were informed, the Coscia Journal would be found, and the matter would be settled.

After the cardinal’s stately funeral, Vivaldi waited for the right moment to fulfill his promise. But as he waited, he became more apprehensive. He was just a lowly priest, after all, and not a very good one at that. The violin was his life, and teaching it was his life’s work. Besides, who would believe him? Where was the proof? And what would the Camorra do to him if he were to expose its business? He had seen the results of their retribution—those who crossed the Mafia were dealt with harshly. Beheadings were not uncommon, and those who weren’t beheaded were drawn and quartered—alive. No, he must find a way to honor his pledge without exposing himself to such horrible consequences.

An idea came to him: he would hide the messages in plain sight, in his musical compositions.Picking up a sheet of staff lined manuscript paper, Vivaldi began to assemble the first of many, his Scherzo Tiaseno in Sol.

***

Author Bio

Gary McAvoy is an American novelist known for internationally bestselling thrillers that blend historical intrigue, religious scholarship, and modern suspense. A lifelong researcher of rare manuscripts and Church history, he draws on extensive archival study to craft narratives rooted in authentic detail. His work includes the Vatican Secret Archive Thrillers, the Magdalene Chronicles, and the Vatican Archaeology Thrillers. Before turning to fiction, McAvoy built a distinguished career as an entrepreneur, technology consultant, and collector of historical documents. He now writes full time from the Pacific Northwest, where he continues to explore the shadowed crossroads of faith, power, and history.

Social Media Links

GaryMcAvoy.com
Amazon Author Profile
Goodreads – @garymcavoy
BookBub – @garymcavoy
Instagram – @gary_mcavoy
Facebook – @GaryMcAvoyAuthor

Purchase Links

###

PICT Giveaway

https://pictbooks.tours/pPsh3

Book Tour/Feature Post and Book Review: First Daughter by Marlie Parker Wasserman

FIRST DAUGHTER

by Marlie Parker Wasserman

May 4-29, 2026 Virtual Book Tour

Hi, everyone!

Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for FIRST DAUGHTER by Marlie Parker Wasserman on this Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tour.

Below you will find a book description, my book review, and excerpt from the book, the author’s bio and social media links, and a PICT giveaway! Enjoy!

***

Book Description

In the summer of 1895, President Grover Cleveland and his pregnant wife, Frances, retreat to their secluded Cape Cod home, eager to avoid Washington’s heat and hassles. The very day that Frances gives birth, their three-year-old daughter vanishes. A ransom note surfaces, demanding a mysterious and peculiar sum.

Is the kidnapper a political enemy or someone closer to home? Secret service agents chase multiple leads but reach dead ends. Desperate, Frances Cleveland searches for answers on her own. As the hunt continues, the kidnapper carefully plots each move and determines to settle a score.

The historical record documents threats against the Clevelands, but no actual kidnapping. Yet, what if the president and his wife, known for keeping secrets, concealed a terrifying chapter of their lives? In this gripping blend of fact and fiction, the line between public duty and private anguish blurs in a mother’s fight to save her child.

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/250900764-first-daughter?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=58HpjRuJ3B&rank=1

First Daughter

Genre: Historical Crime Fiction
Published by: Level Best Books
Publication Date: April 14, 2026
Number of Pages: 324

***

My Book Review

RATING: 4 out of 5 Stars

FIRST DAUGHTER by Marlie Parker Wasserman is a well-researched historical fiction novel with a fictional crime mystery interwoven throughout around the eldest daughter of President Grover Cleveland and First Lady Frances Cleveland set in their secluded summer home on Cape Cope.

It is 1895 and Frances Cleveland is about to give birth to the couple’s third child in Grey Cables, the summer home of the President and his family during the summer months. When Frances sends for her two daughters to meet their sibling, the eldest, three-year-old Ruth, is discovered missing.

With no clues until a ransom note is found, the First Lady and their lead Secret Service agent follow multiple leads, which is difficult as the President wants this crime to remain secret with minimal people knowing the truth. It is a different time, with minimal security around the President and his family and secrets to be kept. Can the case be solved and Ruth returned safely?

This is a historical fiction that demonstrates the author’s in-depth research, comprehension of the period and the Cleveland family. The author makes you feel as if you are right there on Cape Cod in 1895. Frances Cleveland is a complicated character, but also a woman of her time. While the kidnapping mystery is purely fictional, it allows the author to bring in many additional historical facts, as well as a suspenseful tension to the story. The story does start out a bit slowly, but it does pick up as the characters become more developed and the mystery plot intensifies.

This is an engaging historical fiction look into President Cleveland’s family with a crime mystery twist.

***

Excerpt

At the western edge of Cape Cod, in the grandest bedroom in the sprawling residence known as Gray Gables, Frances Cleveland couldn’t stifle the rising sound of her own screams. Between pains, she rested. The late morning breeze drifted across the lawn from Buzzards Bay, fluttering the lace curtain and cooling the sweat on her forehead.

Even at this moment, Frances felt grateful that Grover chose to spend summers away from Washington’s heat, away from the prying public. Here, in this secluded haven, she needn’t fear strangers hovering near the windows of the Executive Mansion for a glimpse of their president—or, more likely, of his wife and daughters. She could concentrate her fears on her pains and pray for the safe birth of her third child, in the same way she had for her first and again for her second. Frances expected from experience that her suffering would soon recede, replaced by the joy of motherhood. She did not know that before the day was over, her bodily misery would end, yielding not to joy but to overwhelming terror.

The previous February, after sensing a flutter beneath her gown while greeting a crowd of visitors at a reception, Frances guessed the baby would be her third girl. Practiced at keeping confidences, she never mentioned her prediction to her preoccupied husband. When she gave birth to another girl, the blathering journalists would have their say. They would try out their jokes about the president’s little harem. Most days, Frances ignored the journalists. Most days, she trusted Grover to love each of his babies.

The image of a trio of girls was far from Frances’s mind now, as she suffered in bed. She cried out, too loudly. Dr. Bryant reminded her that she’d survived labor pains before. “Don’t you dare say that again,” she said, in a shrill tone that surprised her.

At last, Frances heard the newborn’s cry, faint but lovely. Dr. Bryant chuckled while he clamped and cut the cord. “Mrs. Cleveland, should I bring the president upstairs to see his new daughter? He’s pacing on the front porch. Once he sees this one—she’s beautiful—he won’t regret it’s not a son.”

“Yes,” Frances said, with the strongest voice she could muster. A girl, as she’d guessed. For an instant, with the last of her contractions, she’d ignored her prediction and hoped for a boy. Now, she didn’t linger on that momentary weakness of character. She let a surge of pride swell over her, above the exhaustion. She’d done it. Again.

Frances turned to the local midwife hired to assist. “Tell the steward, his name is Sinclair, to get Ruth and Esther. I want my daughters to see their new sister.”

Frances raised herself a few inches, enough to see the midwife slip into the hall. The woman returned and gave Frances a nod. The girls would come shortly. Frances sank back and watched the midwife wipe down the infant and swaddle her. She did look beautiful. “Here,” Frances said, crooking her arm to make room for Marion, the name Grover chose that would serve for a girl or a boy. The same name as a town across Buzzards Bay, where many of their friends lived. Frances appreciated Grover’s decision to buy an estate on the outskirts of a different but nearby town, Bourne. The family could escape Washington’s heat and busybodies.

And escape the threats.

Hours earlier, Frances gave thanks for the breeze blowing through the open window, reminding her that Gray Gables was perfectly located on a point overlooking the Bay’s east side. But now she blocked the sound of wind and waves. straining to make sense of other sounds, to hear what Grover would say about a third daughter. The doctor scurried downstairs. The midwife remained stationed over the bed, tending to Frances and crooning softly to the baby. Frances ignored the woman, mindful only of the voices wafting in through the window. First, low tones as the doctor talked to Grover. They were friends. Dr. Bryant saved Grover’s life two summers ago, removing the cancer eating away at his palate. Now, Frances imagined the doctor patting her thickset husband on his shoulder and shaking his hand. She hoped Grover would offer the doctor a contented smile. Seconds later, Grover clomped upstairs. The doctor followed behind, with lighter steps.

“So happy, Frankie.” Her husband used one of her nicknames. After their wedding, she asked Grover to call her by her more dignified name, Frances. He still used Frankie or Frank in private moments. She let him—the nicknames added tenderness to his gruff voice. “The doctor tells me you’re fine. You managed without chloroform this time, too. And the baby’s healthy. Marion, right? Three girls. They will enjoy each other’s company.”

He said the right thing. She didn’t need to feel anxious about another girl. He was a good man, kind to her, whatever others thought. He wouldn’t hold the baby, rarely did. But he wiped his chubby hand on a cloth, then touched Marion’s forehead. He stood there for a few minutes, cherishing their third child. For him, it was a fourth, but no matter. His eyes shifted to gaze at her. He wouldn’t see the tall, slender belle he married nine years ago, the one the reporters called lovely. He’d see a tired, sweat-drenched woman who looked every day of her thirty years.

“Ruth and Esther?” Frances asked again, eyeing the midwife. “Did you send Sinclair for them?”

“Yes, ma’am. The steward went a minute ago.” The midwife spoke quietly, carefully. She’d feel nervous in the presence of the president.

Still almost flat in bed, Frances clutched Marion, admiring the infant. Perfect features. Ten fingers and ten toes. Another blessing from God.

A familiar sound at the door. Sinclair knocked softly. His usual pattern—soft, loud, soft—keeping to the household code. Another sound, when the midwife opened the door. Next, Frances would hear four little feet rushing toward the newest baby.

No feet. Only hushed words.

“Sinclair found Annie,” the midwife said. “She’s your older daughter’s nursemaid, right? He tells me she needs another minute to bring Ruth and to tell your younger daughter’s nursemaid to bring Esther.” The midwife stood far from Frances’s bed, speaking almost in a whisper.

Grover didn’t look concerned. His rough mustache skimmed Frances’s cheek as he kissed her lightly on her damp forehead. She was too tired to return the kiss. She heard him drop into the nearby rocking chair.

“Joseph,” he said, addressing the doctor, “you’re certain Frankie is fine? No complications?”

“Just fine, Grover. Ready for the next one before long.”

Four years earlier, when Ruth was born, Dr. Joseph Bryant told Frances how to manage her family. “Breastfeed for six months.” He looked straight at her, with no awkwardness. “You’ll not get in the family way, and the baby will stay healthy. After six months, well, you and Grover can proceed to another.” And so they had. Esther after Ruth. Marion after Esther. A daughter every two years.

Frances closed her eyes, relying on her ears. Dr. Bryant thanked the midwife for her assistance. The woman tidied up, gathering soiled sheets and opening a chest, hunting for fresh linens. The room went silent, except for the soft, repetitious squeak of the rocking chair. Grover leaned up, then back, up then back. Frances sensed herself drifting off.

Another soft knock, barely a sound, followed by a pause, and two more soft knocks. Not Sinclair. One of the nursemaids. Annie? The midwife opened the door. “Ma’am.” Annie’s voice came out as a croak. “I can’t find Ruth.”

***

Author Bio

Marlie Parker Wasserman loves writing historical crime fiction. She has published three novels–First Daughter will be her fourth. After a career in publishing in New Jersey, she moved to Chapel Hill, NC with her husband. When she is not writing, she travels, reads, and sketches. One of her goals is to visit every national park in the U.S., and she is close to her goal.

Social Media Links

www.marliewasserman.com
Amazon Author Profile
Goodreads
BookBub – @marliewasserman
Instagram – @marliepwasserman
Bluesky – @marliewasserman.bsky.social
Facebook

Purchase Links

Amazon – https://pictbooks.tours/T9V2E7ea

Kindle – https://pictbooks.tours/QU2N8pzi

BN – https://pictbooks.tours/Zg47J5P9

BookShop.org – https://pictbooks.tours/8ejtYGal

BookBub – https://pictbooks.tours/vrHjPbBG

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PICT GIVEAWAY

https://pictbooks.tours/BjlQbs2q

Book Tour/Feature Post and Book Review: Relentless by Michael Maloof

Hi, everyone!

Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for RELENTLESS (Kate Preacher Thriller Series Book #1) by Michael Maloof on this Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tour.

Below you will find a book description, my book review, an excerpt from the book, the author’s bio and social media links, and a PICT giveaway. Enjoy!

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Book Description

On the eve of her five-year wedding anniversary, a devastating terrorist attack in Paris thrusts former CIA analyst Kate Preacher into a lethal cat-and-mouse game of kill or be killed…

Kate’s husband, retired Navy SEAL Jake Church, is the right man in the wrong place. Caught in the middle of the Paris attack, Jake’s actions spark an international media storm, drawing unwanted attention and awakening old enemies.

Refusing to let the suspicious attack go unquestioned…or the perpetrators go unpunished, Kate’s lured back into a world of deception and betrayal—a world she thought she had escaped. And as the pieces in a twisted puzzle reveal a shocking global conspiracy, the investigation paints a target on her back.

Is Kate just a pawn in a deadly international plot, or can she outplay a ruthless killer?

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/199581912-relentless?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=dwqoXt9hBL&rank=1

***

My Book Review

RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars

RELENTLESS (Kate Preacher Thriller Series Book #1) by Michael Maloof is an explosive international crime thriller and first book in a series featuring a female former CIA agent that had me hooked immediately. I am so glad this is a series because I did not want this story to end.

Former CIA agent Kate Preacher is on the eve of her five-year wedding anniversary with her husband. Jake is a retired SEAL and now heads up a private security firm and is on assignment in Paris, France. Jake is on a Facetime call with Kate when he is suddenly in the middle of a terrorist attack. Jake’s actions cause unwanted media attention and questions of his real purpose at being in that place at that time.

Kate’s suspicion of the attack will not let her sit back and wait for answers. She wants all the perpetrators to pay. What she does not realize is her questions and actions are being followed by friends and foes alike and what she does not know is which is which.

This book pulled me in from page one and at every chapter end, I would say, “just one more”, until it was well into the night and I had finished the book. Kate Preacher is a brilliant, bad ass, and relentless protagonist that I was emotionally attached to the entire book, from her happiness to her depths of despair. (The funeral chapter had me in tears with tissues in full use.) The action is fast paced, realistic, and had me on the edge of my seat throughout. The secondary characters are as fully developed and fleshed out as Kate herself and kept me continually surprised by their actions and motives. The crime plot is intricately intertwined with action, misdirection, and believable situations.

This is an amazing female protagonist forward thriller that I highly recommend!

***

Excerpt

FRIDAY, APRIL 17, THE PRESENT

6:15 AM EDT

UNDISCLOSED LOCATION

Nomad flexed his right wrist, and with the palm of his hand, eased the joystick forward. The motor on his wheelchair hummed, and he maneuvered toward the center of the workstation. This environment was his creation. The height set to accommodate his chair with room beneath to manipulate the joystick. With subtle right or left pressure on the stick, he could navigate the full semicircle desk and jump between clients and projects.

There were traditional keyboards and mice, but the layer of fine dust revealed little use. Nomad’s world was one of proprietary speech recognition technology and the pressure-sensitive controls he designed and added to his chair. His forearms, wrists, fingers, head and voice all served as system navigation and command-and-control interfaces.

A matrix of monitors, stacked three high and eight across, spanned the arc of the desk and formed his window on the outside world. As a C6 quadriplegic, what he lost in physical mobility he regained in the virtual world. He chose the name Nomad for the irony, and believed his world offered freedom, control, and safety.

Nomad scanned the monitors. His building’s security cameras, global news feeds, random engineering musings of a few MIT grads on Slack. Another monitor was hammering away on a client’s file with one of his decryption algorithms. No challengers yet on any of his virtual chess boards, and that brought him to the Frenchman, his favorite opponent.

The central monitor was a live, split-screen camera feed from the Frenchman’s Paris apartment. One feed came from the Frenchman’s laptop, and the other from the camera embedded in the smart TV. It was Nomad’s practice to plant malware on the systems of anyone in his inner circle. What began as a safety protocol became something more, and he watched and lived vicariously through his contact’s living rooms and their digital and social media lives.

Nomad glanced at the camera feed’s system clock. Twelve-fifteen. It was almost time. He hoped the apartment would be empty, but saw Francois scurrying about, preparing for the meeting. Nomad knew it was pointless, but he had to try one more time.

Francois’s laptop rang with Nomad’s encrypted call request. He watched the Frenchman approach the laptop and press cancel. Nomad tried again, and this time he watched Francois accept the call.

“I admire your determination,” Francois began, “but there’s nothing left to discuss.”

“Look, I know how it sounds, but I’m begging you to trust me,” Nomad said. “You need to leave.”

“You ask for trust, but hide in the shadows.”

“Who I am is not important. All you need to know is that your life is in danger.”

“Nonsense,” he said. “For one thing, I know who you are, but rest assured, your secret is safe with me. Why you’ve chosen this life, I will never understand, but that is your business and now you must leave me to mine.”

“Is that a threat?”

“No, no, my friend. You misunderstand,” Francois said. “This is just a promise that I will keep you out of the discussion, but Moore Industries needs to know what you found. They believe the device is impenetrable, exceeding even the capabilities of quantum computing, and with millions relying on this technology, I have no choice. There is no room for debate.” 

“You’re missing the point,” Nomad said. “Tens of millions of customers is exactly why Moore will do anything to protect the NanoVault’s reputation.”

“Again with the conspiracy theories,” Francois said. “You watch too much American TV. I am a respected academic meeting with a representative of a major corporation, not the KGB.”

“I pray I’m wrong,” Nomad said.

“Au revoir, my friend.”

“Wait,” Nomad said. “Before you hang up, what makes you think you know who I am?”

“I understand some hackers have a signature, patterns of behavior, code or techniques they use, that help identify the author.”

“Yes, that’s true.”

“So do chess players.”

Nomad heard the knock at the Frenchman’s door. Francois called out to his visitor, and the call ended.

* * *

FRIDAY, APRIL 17

12:17 PM CEST (Central European Summer Time)

PARIS, FRANCE

Francois LeGrande imagined his meeting with the Moore Industries representative. They’ll want to see my research and review my findings. A lucrative offer for my work would be nice, but it would be an honor to receive one of Moore’s Distinguished Fellowships.

Francois rushed to answer the door. He never saw what the masked man pressed into his side, but the effect was immediate. His body convulsed, knees buckled, and his head struck the floor. Next came the duct tape over his mouth and around his wrists and ankles. He lay on the floor of his apartment, dazed and in pain, only half-aware of the large black boot that passed over his face.

Adrenaline surged. His heart raced. He fought to focus his thoughts. Blinked and squinted to clear his vision. He squirmed and wrestled against the restraints. Tried to call out, to scream. Nothing worked. In the futile struggle to free himself, his breathing was rapid and shallow. His vision blurred, and the room spun. Don’t pass out, he thought. Just breathe. Slow down. Listen. 

From the hallway, it was difficult to know what the stranger was doing. Was Nomad right? No. Can’t be. If he was here to kill me, I’d be dead already. Then what? What does he want? His head throbbed as he thought back to the fleeting image of opening the door and looking up at the face. There was no face. Just a blur of gray and white rectangles. The man’s ball cap and hoodie obscured any chance of street cameras catching his approach to the building, and the camouflage mask stretched tight from his forehead to his neck prevented facial recognition.

Francois tried to follow the sound of the stranger’s steps. The attic apartment, converted from an 18th-century mansion, was elegant but small. While it suited the Frenchman, it took only moments to explore. He heard the wheels of the office chair as they rolled across the hardwood floor. 

He’s in the bedroom. 

The bedroom served as his home office. Stacks of books and papers shared his bed, and most of the floor. He pictured the stranger seated at his laptop and cursed his decision to close the connection with Nomad. If he knew, if he saw, he would call the police. 

There was an odd sound. An electronic chirp beeping slowly at first, then faster and louder, then slow again. Finally, a solid tone for a moment, then silence.

Francois heard the tones of a cell phone. Too many digits, he thought. Not a local number.

“I have it,” the man said. “No, it has to be tonight. And count yourself lucky I could make this work on short notice.” There was another brief pause and then the call wrapped up. “Yes. Yes. I’ll keep it safe. Now, send me the drop site.”

American, Francois thought, and at that moment, all hope vanished. The businessman he thought might still arrive, might somehow intervene. The man he was expecting was already here. Despair wrapped him in an ice-cold blanket and he trembled. He stopped fighting back the tears and sobbed.

The American dragged Francois down the hallway and into the living room, and the tears gave way to terror when he surveyed the room. A chair from the small kitchen table was in the center. A rope stretched over the ancient oak beam that framed the ridge-line of the apartment’s ceiling, and a noose hung above the chair.

The duct tape muffled his attempts to cry out, and the masked man had little trouble setting the slight Frenchman on the chair. He slipped the noose over Francois’s head and pulled on the rope. Francois stiffened his back, lifted his chin, and gasped for air. The man kept one hand on the rope and the other drew a knife. With a flick and click, the blade locked into place, and in one sudden move he cut the tape binding Francois’s feet. He pulled the slack from the rope and Francois’s only escape from suffocation was to climb up on the chair.

The American tied the rope to the radiator, then stood directly in front of Francois and stared. The mask was disorienting, and Francois found it difficult to focus. He saw a black leather jacket and a gray hoodie. He saw dark blue jeans, and the boots. Large black boots. He could be anyone on the streets of Paris, even one of my students. What is he waiting for? What does he want? 

“Let’s talk.”

The words startled him and Francois wobbled atop the wooden kitchen chair. The noose made it difficult to breathe, much less answer questions. When he raised up on the balls of his feet, he could almost take a full breath, but the old chair flexed and creaked when he moved. He knew at any moment it might collapse and he would hang.

“I’m going to remove the duct tape,” the masked man said. “I suggest you remain still. And quiet,” and he gave the rope a slight tug. “Understand?”

Francois nodded, and the stranger ripped the duct tape off the old man’s face. The Frenchman scrunched his eyes, gritted his teeth, and wrinkled his nose. Tears and snot seeped into his mustache. The American balled up the tape and noticed the collection of gray hair.

“Trust me,” he said. “Faster is better.” And then he reached into his jacket, fished out the shiny black device, and held it out for the Frenchman to see.

“Did you crack it?”

Laying in the palm of his glove was a Moore Industries NanoVault. The polished black onyx device, about the size of a woman’s lipstick, was ringed with seven combination dials that controlled access to the device’s unique properties. For the first time since the masked man crashed through his door, Francois thought he understood what was happening. He thinks I’m after the bounty. He thinks I’ve cracked the encryption.

The offer of a bounty, paid in anonymous, untraceable, and tax-free Bitcoins, intrigued cryptographic researchers and enticed the hacker denizens in every corner of the Darknet. Crack the encryption on a Quantum NanoVault, known affectionately as a portable Swiss Bank account, and you’d learn the location of 1,000 Bitcoins. What started as a clever promotional stunt became a worldwide phenomenon when Bitcoin values rose exponentially, and the bounty, still unclaimed, grew to tens of millions of dollars.

“No. No, Monsieur. I assure you, this device is worthless.”

“My client insisted I retrieve this specific device,” he said. “And paid handsomely to recover it immediately. I’d like to know why. What makes this device so valuable?”

“Please. Just take it and go.”

Francois imagined his ordeal might soon be over. He has what he came for. He can just leave.

The American slipped the device back into his pocket and glanced at his watch.

“What’s the combination?”

“It’s not locked.”

“What’s on it?”

“Nothing. I assure you, it’s completely blank,” and Francois nodded toward the laptop. “Go. See for yourself. You will see. It’s empty.”

The American took the device back to the desk, and the NanoVault connected automatically. He returned moments later.

“You’re right, it’s blank,” he said. “But if you’re not using it, why have one?”

“Research,” and Francois nodded toward the back wall. The American turned to see a lifetime of achievement and accolades. Among the faded degrees hanging on the wall were journal clippings, edges curled and fraying, a small shelf of dusty mathematics awards, and a handful of student group photos. Missing was any semblance of a life outside of academia. No wife. No family.

“Then, tell me Professeur,” he said, exaggerating the Frenchman’s academic position. “What makes this device so special?”

“Oh, but it’s not. It’s like any other. Available at any—”

The slap caught him before he could finish.

***

Author Bio

Michael Maloof is the author of the Kate Preacher Thriller Series—RelentlessUnstoppable, and Defiant—known for its global scope, emotional intensity, and hard-won authenticity. His novels draw readers into high-stakes worlds where intelligence, courage, and consequence collide. A lifelong adventurer, Michael has traveled to more than forty countries across six continents, experiences that deeply inform his writing. His real-world pursuits have ranged from gold dredging in Honduras and artifact hunting in Guatemala to acquiring uncut diamonds in Liberia and surviving an elephant charge in Kenya. He has also trained alongside Navy SEALs, Marine Raiders, Army Rangers, Green Berets, and the CIA—firsthand insights that lend his fiction uncommon realism and respect for the craft of service.

Social Media Links

www.MichaelMaloof.com
Amazon Author Profile
Goodreads – @MichaelGoWrite
BookBub – @MichaelMaloof
Instagram – @MichaelGoWrite
Facebook – @MichaelGoWrite
YouTube – @MichaelGoWrite

Purchase Links

Amazon – https://pictbooks.tours/JI3IyN17

Kindle Unlimited – https://pictbooks.tours/ahc4xhit

BN – https://pictbooks.tours/2VukQFqg

BookShop.org – https://pictbooks.tours/DSBQBKeO

Goodreads – https://pictbooks.tours/h9Ohl17R

BookBub – https://pictbooks.tours/r1uwUga4

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PICT GIVEAWAY

https://pictbooks.tours/8u06eSFI