Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for LIFE OR DEATH (Forensics Instincts Bok #11) by Andrea Kane on this Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tour.
Below you will find a book description, my book review, the author’s bio and social media links, and a Promoamp giveaway. Enjoy!
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Book Description
In suburban Westchester County, just outside the frenetic pace of New York City, a deadly murder occurs. After a violent struggle, FBI agent Shane Walsh is dead and his wife, Caitlin, has vanished. At the urging of a mysterious text, the Walshes’ nine-year-old daughter, Kennedy, has been safely whisked away by a close family member.
The FBI is determined to bring down whoever assassinated one of its own and is focusing on Caitlin as a prime suspect. Ryan McKay, Forensic Instincts’ chief technology officer, as well as Shane’s cousin and lifelong friend, vehemently disagrees. Ryan knows the Walsh family well. He insists that Caitlin is innocent, and that she, herself, is in danger.
After convincing his team to cast a wider net, Ryan leads FI on a zigzag course across two continents to locate Caitlin, sidestepping the FBI at every turn, and protecting Kennedy at all costs. But the FBI is on the warpath, and threatens to permanently shut down Forensic Instincts if they don’t back off. Undeterred by the FBI’s threats, FI goes underground in pursuit of their rogue mission.
As the pace quickens, Kennedy becomes the target of unnerving text messages. Both The FBI and the Forensic Instincts teams sense that the end game is near and that the chess match is spiraling to a stunning conclusion. Determined to declare “checkmate” before the killer, Forensic Instincts must not only protect Kennedy but make sure that their team doesn’t end up as collateral damage when the king falls.
Genre: Suspense Thriller Published by: Bonnie Meadow Publishing, LLC Publication Date: March 17, 2026 Number of Pages: 304, HC ISBN: 9781682320686 (ISBN10: 1682320685), HC Series: Forensic Instincts, Book 11 | Each is a stand-alone novel
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My Book Review
RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars
LIFE OR DEATH (Forensic Instincts Book #11) by Andrea Kane is another addition to this always gripping crime thriller series featuring an eclectic group of talented crime fighters who have come together to form Forensic Instincts (FI). They are not always on the technically right side of the law, but they always get their prey and solve the case. While the characters have continually evolved over the now eleven books, the individual crime plots are always solved in each book so they can be read as standalones.
Ryan McKay is the tech genius for Forensic Instincts (FI), and he is devastated when he learns his cousin and FBI agent, Shane Walsh, has been found murdered in his home and his wife, Caitlin, is missing. Ryan’s mother receives a text to pick up Shane’s eight-year-old daughter, Kennedy, from school and to keep her safe.
While FI gets to work immediately on the case, the FBI has warned them not to interfere, or they will be shut down. FI refuses to back down and goes underground with the help of another secretive off-the-record group that fights crimes internationally. In a race to prove Caitlin innocent and keep Kennedy safe, the FI group is going to need every resource and friend they have available to discover the motive and killer.
I always love returning to the Forensic Instincts world. I get a great crime thriller as well as a comfortable cast of fully developed characters. Ryan and Claire are the focal characters from FI throughout this book as well as Shane’s daughter Kennedy, but everyone appears with everyone’s skills necessary to solve this case. The crime plot is intricately plotted with plenty of twists along the way, but it also has a very clever misdirection that changes the entire focus of the case. I always enjoy getting my hands on a new FI book and following this familiar group of characters as they investigate a new crime.
I highly recommend this fast-paced crime thriller and encourage you to try the entire Forensic Instincts series!
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Author Bio
Andrea Kane is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of thirty-three novels, including nineteen psychological thrillers and fourteen historical romantic suspense titles. With her signature style, Kane creates unforgettable characters and confronts them with life-threatening danger. As a master of suspense, she weaves them into exciting, carefully-researched stories, pushing them to the edge—and keeping her readers up all night.
Kane’s first contemporary suspense thriller, Run for Your Life, became an instant New York Times bestseller.
She followed with a string of bestselling psychological thrillers including No Way Out, Twisted and Drawn in Blood.
Her latest in the highly successful Forensic Instincts series, Life or Death, forces this eclectic team of investigators to navigate a high wire act between the FBI on one side and a vicious killer looking to terminate the rest of a young family on the other. The first showcase of Forensic Instincts’ talents came with the New York Times bestseller, The Girl Who Disappeared Twice, followed by The Line Between Here and Gone, The Stranger You Know, The Silence That Speaks, The Murder That Never Was, A Face To Die For, Dead In A Week, No Stone Unturned, At Any Cost, Struck Dead and Life or Death.
Kane’s beloved historical romantic suspense novels include My Heart’s Desire, Samantha, Echoes in the Mist, and Wishes in the Wind.
With a worldwide following of passionate readers, her books have been published in more than twenty languages.
Kane lives in New Jersey with her family. She’s an avid crossword puzzle solver and a diehard Yankees fan.
Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for THE LAST TO FALL (Gossamer Falls Book #3) by Lynn H. Blackburn on this Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tour.
Below you will find the book description, my book review, an excerpt from the book, the author’s bio and social media links, and a Promoamp giveaway. Enjoy!
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Book Description
She’s caught in a deadly game. He’s the only one who can help her win.
Bronwyn Pierce has poured everything into The Haven, her family’s exclusive mountain resort in Gossamer Falls. But when financial discrepancies surface and the numbers suggest something far darker than simple mismanagement, she’s forced to call on the one person with the skills to help her: Mo Quinn, a former Army intelligence officer, her first love, and the last person she ever wanted to trust again.
Mo has spent years avoiding the woman he once loved and the secrets that tore them apart. But when Bronwyn calls, he can’t walk away–especially when it’s clear someone wants her gone for good. As they dig deeper into the treacherous motives behind a blackmail scheme, their proximity reignites long-buried feelings neither of them are ready to face. And when the evidence points to an unexpected culprit, Mo faces an impossible choice: trust the proof in front of him or trust his heart.
With danger closing in and no one else to turn to, Bronwyn must break years of silence with Mo to uncover who’s trying to destroy The Haven. They’ll have to risk everything–including their hearts–to expose the truth before it’s too late.
Genre: Christian Fiction, Romantic Suspense, Romance Published by: Revell Publication Date: March 3, 2026 Number of Pages: 368 ISBN: 9780800745387 (ISBN10: 0800745388) Series: Gossamer Falls, Book #3
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My Book Review
RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars
LAST TO FALL (Gossamer Falls Book #3) by Lynn H. Blackburn is the exciting third book in the Gossamer Falls Christian romantic suspense series. This series enters around a multi-generational family in Gossamer Falls, North Carolina. Each story features a new complete couple’s romance, but the suspense and crimes in the town continue over all the books as well as many of the characters, so I feel it is best to read them in the order published.
Bronwyn Pierce successfully runs the Haven, an exclusive mountain resort for her extended family. Recently though she has felt unsettled and felt watched as well as feeling there is a problem with some of the resorts accounts. She feels she has no choice but to ask for help from the one man she felt she could never trust again.
Montgomery “Mo” Quinn is a former Army Intelligence officer and now works personally with computers in criminal investigations. Even with all the mistrust, hurt, and noncommunication between them, Mo can do nothing but help the one woman he has always loved. As they investigate, their feelings reignite. But as Mo delves into the Haven’s files, he discovers blackmail payments and money laundering and is put in an untenable situation of trusting his heart or trusting the files. They are in the crosshairs and must risk everything before a killer succeeds.
This is my favorite of the three and they all have been very good. I have been waiting to discover Bronwyn and Mo’s backstories, and I really enjoyed the alternating chapters that revealed everything. Besides being an overall lovely book about forgiveness, family, and love, the author intricately ties the H/h romance story with all the innocence of their childhood infatuation, the perceived betrayals, and then adult forgiveness and understanding into the full family history seamlessly. This is a Christian romantic suspense so there are no sex scenes and just kissing between the H/h. The suspense is well paced with plenty of action and ties together all the missing pieces from all criminal activities from the previous books as well.
I highly recommend this captivating and heartfelt addition to the Gossamer Falls Christian romantic suspense series.
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Excerpt
ONE
Present Day
Whoever said blood was thicker than water hadn’t known about the Pierce family.
Bronwyn Pierce could think of several people she could trust more than her own family, and one of them despised her.
But he was the one she needed now.
He would come. She knew it in a place deep in her core. Despite the pain they’d inflicted on each other for the past seventeen years, he would come.
“This is so messed up.” She muttered the words into the silence of her office, then clamped her mouth shut.
For all she knew, someone was listening.
She propped up her elbows on her desk and rested her face in her hands. Her head ached. Her heart was . . . numb. It had been bruised and beaten so often in her almost thirty- four years that even the magnitude of this current betrayal barely registered.
The light tap on her office door jolted her from her musing, and she barely stopped the scream that threatened to erupt from her throat. Who was wandering around The Haven at three in the morning?
She slid open the middle drawer of her desk and rested her left hand on the small gun she kept there. And wasn’t that just a kick in the pants? She was the CEO of an exclusive resort. She prided herself on how the staff protected the celebrities, politicians, and uber- wealthy visitors who rested in blissful slumber in the elegant cabins that dotted the property. They knew no paparazzi would approach them and no one would harm them while they were here.
But she couldn’t expect the same level of security for herself.
She gripped the gun.
“Ms. Pierce? Are you in there?” The deep voice of Randall, one of the night watchmen, filtered through the thick door.
“Yes. Come in.”
He eased the door open and took one step inside. “Ms. Pierce, are you okay?”
She understood the confusion on his face. She put in well over sixty hours a week, sometimes closer to eighty, but even she didn’t make a habit of being in her office in the middle of the night.
“I’m fine. Thank you.” She didn’t owe him an explanation, but she gave one anyway. Or part of it. “I thought of something that needed to be done on this computer.”
It was no secret that The Haven computer network carried some of the most advanced security available and that some information couldn’t be accessed from remote locations. Not even by her.
“Gotcha.” Randall’s tense smile sent a chill skittering across her skin. “I guess it’s in the air tonight. Mr. Pierce is in his office as well.”
The chill turned into an arctic blast.
“Which Mr. Pierce?”
“Nathan.”
“I see.”
Randall regarded her with an expression she couldn’t decipher. Was it concern? Distrust?
“If it’s all the same to you, ma’am, I’m going to stay in this area for a bit. I’d appreciate it if you’d allow me to escort you back to your home when you’re done here.”
And that didn’t sound ominous. Not at all.
Did he want to see her safely back to her home? Or did he want to take the opportunity to . . . what? What would he do? Surely the situation hadn’t devolved to the point where physical violence was on the table.
Her home was tucked away in an unobtrusive corner of The Haven property. Out of sight of the guests and staff, and off limits to all, but close enough for her to be available in case of emergencies. She’d always appreciated her own private haven at The Haven. But if Randall meant her harm, how long would it be before anyone found her?
She gave herself a mental shake. Randall was good people. He was looking out for her. Nothing more. She hoped.
“Sure. I’ll probably be another ten minutes. I need to send a few emails.”
Randall lowered his head. “In that case, I’ll wait outside.”
With that, he stepped back and closed the door.
Now what?
Her cousin Nathan was in his office on the other side of the property doing who knew what at 3:00 a.m. Probably plotting world domination. Or her painful death. Or both.
After she’d run away at sixteen, Nathan became the heir apparent to their family’s business. He was the golden child. The future of the family. And then he managed to get himself sideways with a guest and had to hide out in Europe for a while.
While his life was spiraling out of control, Bronwyn’s had come together. She finished her degree, worked in the industry in several resorts around the world, and returned to Gossamer Falls, determined to atone for her sins.
Neither she nor Nathan had expected the CEO position to ever be hers, but it was now, and she had no plans to let it go.
Her extended family had never been tight- knit. She’d grown up with competition as the name of the game. She didn’t know exactly when it started, but over the past few years, the Pierces had somehow fractured into separate, warring factions. There was no trust. No love. No sense of togetherness.
Lord, how did we get here? And how do I get out of this mess?
She didn’t know the answer to the first question, but she knew the answer to the second. Or, at least, she knew the first step on the path.
She twisted back to her computer and typed out an email.
With shaking fingers, she hit send, gathered her things, including her weapon, and walked out to meet Randall.
Even after close to two decades of hostility, she knew that while the one person she needed right now wouldn’t speak to her, he would keep her secrets and do everything he could to keep her safe.
And there was no turning back now. She’d placed the charges and lit the fuse. Her walls were coming down. She had to trust that he’d stand with her when the last one fell.
Lynn H. Blackburn is the award-winning author of Never Fall Again, as well as the Dive Team Investigations and Defend and Protect series. She loves writing swoon-worthy Southern suspense because her childhood fantasy was to become a spy, but her grown-up reality is that she’s a huge chicken and would have been caught on her first mission. She prefers to live vicariously through her characters by putting them into terrifying situations while she sits at home in her pajamas. She lives in Simpsonville, South Carolina, with her true love, Brian, and their three children.
Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for WINTER’S SEASON by R.J. Koreto 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, the author’s social media links, and a Promoamp giveaway sponsored by Partners In Crime. Enjoy!
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Book Description
In 1817 London, Before the Police, There Was Captain Winter.
London, 1817. A city teeming with life, yet lacking a professional police force. When a wealthy young woman is brutally murdered in an alley frequented by prostitutes, a shadowy government bureau in Whitehall dispatches its “special emissary”―Captain Winter. A veteran of the Napoleonic Wars and a gentleman forged by chance and conflict, Winter is uniquely equipped to navigate the treacherous currents of London society, from aristocratic drawing rooms to the city’s grimmest taverns.
Without an army of officers or the aid of forensic science, Winter must rely on his wits and a network of unconventional allies. His childhood friend, a nobleman, opens doors in high society, while a wise Jewish physician uncovers secrets the dead cannot hide.
But Winter’s most intriguing, and potentially dangerous, asset is Barbara Lightwood. Shrewd, beautiful, and operating as a discreet intermediary among the elite, Barbara shares a past with Winter from the war years. Their rekindled affair is fraught with wariness; she offers intimate information crucial to his investigation, but guards her own secrets fiercely. Like Winter, she is both cunning and capable of danger.
From grand houses to dimly lit streets, death stalks Captain Winter. He must tread carefully to unmask a killer, navigate a web of secrets and lies, and perhaps, in the process, save his own soul.
Genre: Thriller, Historical, Romance, Political, Crime Published by: Histria Books Publication Date: February 17, 2026 Number of Pages: 300 ISBN: 9781592116898 (ISBN10: 1592116892)
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My Book Review
RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars
WINTER’S SEASON by R.J. Koreto is a new Regency mystery with an exciting cast of characters from all levels of Regency society, an intriguing murder mystery, and a well-paced investigative procedural led by retired military Captain Edmund Winter who now works for the Home Office. While this is a standalone book at this time, I would love to see it become a series because I did not want it to end.
The Napoleonic war ended two years ago and now in 1817, after his return from a deployment to India, Captain Edmund Winter finds himself working for the Home Office. With the successful capture of a murderer targeting prostitutes, Winter and the Bow Street Runners he is assisting find an unrelated corpse at the scene. It turns out to be a young Society woman who the family assumed had returned to their country home.
Winter must use his wits to navigate Society ballrooms and the shadowy secrets they keep with the help of unconventional friends. His childhood friend, now a nobleman, a Jewish physician from the Army who now performs autopsies, and a secretive woman from Winter’s past who is more than an entrée into society families. While Winter is dangerous to all those who cross him or threaten those he cares for, he must be careful because someone has already tried to kill him before he can unravel the secrets and lies to discover a murderer.
This is one of those books that I just fell into and could not put down. Capt. Winter is a compelling protagonist with so many facets. The main characters are all fascinating and fully developed, and the mystery is well plotted with plenty of twists and surprises, and well-paced to keep me reading. The author’s research is evident from the descriptions of the multiple levels of society, from nobility to servants, and the required or proper access to them and how to talk with them.
I highly recommend this thrilling Regency mystery and hope I get to read more about Capt. Winter’s investigations in the future.
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Excerpt
CHAPTER I
It was the custom of Colonel Sir Joshua Williams to invite his veteran officers to his house each Season to commemorate the Battle of San Stefano. After dinner, the closing ceremony was invariable: First, the ladies rose, the young in their pale blues and pinks and the more matronly in their deeper reds and purples. They smiled and departed, leaving the table surrounded by men in their scarlet coats, adorned with medals glittering by the light of dozens of beeswax candles in their silver holders. The liveried footmen filled the port glasses and left as well, closing the doors behind them.
One former company captain looked around, taking note that he was the youngest battle veteran there—the toast would fall to him. Others had moved on or died. He had himself missed last year’s dinner, spending it on the Afghan border, dressed like a Saracen and getting his skin burned black while trying to uncover the secrets of that land’s sullen and violent inhabitants. Even the task he had to complete after leaving tonight, difficult as it seemed, was nothing compared with that.
The colonel caught his eye, and so the captain stood. Every man stopped talking as the captain raised his glass, and then they stood at attention. He remembered the words easily, and in a strong voice he said, “Did our battle line ever break?”
“No!” shouted the company.
“Why did it not break?”
“We are the hard men,” they replied in unison.
“Gentlemen, to our departed brothers of the First Northumberland Foot,” called the captain. They drained their glasses and slammed them down, then burst into applause. The dinner was over.
The captain—indeed, he suspected, the other officers as well—was reflecting on how this dinner came about in a year of peace. The English and their allies had defeated Napoleon for the final time at Waterloo two years past now in 1815 and life was moving on—the best people were all in London this time of year, with no war to talk about, just fashions and parties and theater and how good it was to be able to import from France the best claret again.
They rejoined the ladies in the drawing room, and the captain sought out Lady Williams, the colonel’s wife.
“My Lady, thank you for your invitation.”
“It is I who should thank you, captain. These dinners mean so much to the colonel as he ages, having all his officers around.”
“And he means so much to us, Lady Williams, the pleasure and honor are ours. I am only glad I am back in London so I can attend.”
“Yes, he mentioned you found a position in the Home Office?” She showed as much surprise and curiosity as a lady of her breeding dared reveal. The captain knew the look—how did a man of his obscure background land what appeared to be a distinguished government position? Despite its simple name, the Home Office had become, since its founding some 25 years before, one of the most powerful and overarching government ministries, with responsibility for security and safety within the British Isles. The Home Secretary was one of the most influential men in England. How Winter had advanced his career in that august body was beyond reckoning.
“Yes, my lady. The work is interesting, but at times onerous, I’m afraid. Indeed, my masters call me even now.”
“At this hour, captain? How tedious for you. But again, I am pleased you could come. Give my warmest regards to the Earl and Countess.”
The captain said goodbye to his colonel and a few other officers, and the butler saw him out. He walked to the nearest stand and engaged a hackney cab to Bow Street Court. A few heads turned as he entered the building, but no one accosted him. A clerk gave him the barest nod but said nothing as he entered a room.
A few minutes later, the captain came out. He was no longer in his regimentals, but in rather shabby outfit, almost rural, with a slouch hat. Down the hall, he entered another room, where a squad of Bow Street Runners awaited—constables, employed by the local court at Bow Street, to keep order and seize felons. Winter suppressed a grimace. They were poorly trained and poorly paid, but it was pretty much all London had for law enforcement. Many still thought the idea of a formal professional constabulary too much government interference—too un-English. So, the Runners would have to do. At least they were willing and obedient.
“We have already gone over where you should be standing,” said the captain. “You know how important it is you aren’t seen.” There was more than instruction in his voice–there was menace.
“Yes, sir,” said the most senior constable present.
“Then take your places. I’ll be along shortly.”
Moving quickly, he left the building and walked along dark streets that became progressively dirtier and more dangerous. He saw men hiding in the shadows, those who preyed on the weak and unaware, but nothing happened to him.
Eventually he came to a building that was well-lit, at least by the neighborhood standards. It was certainly the noisiest venue in the street. The cracked and faded sign marked it as The Three Bells.
The Captain entered—a few were eating off dirty plates, and almost everyone was drinking beer, or something stronger. Slatternly women laughed and tried to slip away from the half-drunk men who loudly pursued them. Some allowed themselves to be caught, and there was more laughter and then a talk of money. The whole room smelled of smoke and grease, and the floor was sticky from weeks of spilled ale.
Few paid attention to the captain, but a fat man walked up to him surprisingly quickly for someone of his bulk.
“Oh captain, I am so pleased, do you think—”
“Shut up. Where’s Sally? She was suitable last night, and she’ll be suitable tonight.”
“Sally—oh there she is.” He pointed to a tallish girl wearing more makeup than an actress. A large man in worker’s clothes, probably a stevedore, thought the captain, had grabbed her and placed her on his lap. She didn’t seem to mind.
The captain strode over, grabbed the woman by her wrist, and pulled her off the man’s lap.
“Come, my girl, we have an appointment as you well know.”
She yelped with surprise, then gave a shrug and followed. The large man stood up.
“See here—I saw her first,” he said. His accent wasn’t London, which explained everything.
“Good for you,” said the Captain, and pulled the girl across the room. The big man started to follow, but two of his friends grabbed him.
“Now Jake, no need to cause trouble,” said the first, who was clearly local.
“Cause trouble? I’ll flatten him—”
“No, you won’t. You don’t know, you’re new here. For God’s sake, that’s the Captain, a soldier, they say he was, and you don’t want to start something with him—I’ve seen what happens to those who do—”
“That’s right,” chimed in the other friend, also a Londoner. “Remember Big Nick—used to be here, no one stood up to him, but he challenged the Captain…” he shuddered.
“And what happened?” asked a skeptical Jake. Both men look their heads.
“We never saw him again. He wasn’t arrested. They didn’t find his body—he was just…gone. So just stop thinking about it. There are plenty of other girls.”
But Jake still felt he had to make a show of standing up for himself.
“So, you’re telling me it would be a mistake to call him out?”
“Your last mistake,” said the first man. Then very softly, as if he was afraid of his words, he said, “He’s called Winter. If you’re thinking of staying in this part of London, you would do well to remember that name.”
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Author Bio
R.J. Koreto is the author of the Historic Home mystery series, set in modern New York City; the Lady Frances Ffolkes mystery series, set in Edwardian England; and the Alice Roosevelt mystery series, set in turn-of-the-century New York. His short stories have been published in Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine and Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, as well as various anthologies.
Most recently, he is the author of “Winter’s Season,” which takes place on the dark streets and glittering ballrooms of Regency-era London.
In his day job, he works as a business and financial journalist. Over the years, he’s been a magazine writer and editor, website manager, PR consultant, book author, and seaman in the U.S. Merchant Marine. Like his heroine, Lady Frances Ffolkes, he’s a graduate of Vassar College.
He and his wife have two grown daughters, and divide their time between Paris and Martha’s Vineyard.
Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review of KILLER TRACKS by Mary Keliikoa 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 Promoamp giveaway. Enjoy!
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Book Description
A Misty Pines Mystery
A peaceful retreat. A maze of smoke and murder. Is their remote getaway about to become a death trap?
Sheriff Jax Turner is worried about going off-grid and leaving his young team of deputies behind. But while his getaway with his ex is meant to help them reconnect, Jax is distracted by signs of a break-in at their rented lookout.
After a string of unsettling events and an approaching wildfire turn their isolated retreat into a danger zone, he’s stunned to find a dead body with marks tying it to a killer he put away a decade ago.
Terrified that his attempt at reconciliation has led them both into a fatal setup, Jax rushes back to his estranged wife before she joins the list of victims. But his dedication to serving and protecting could become an Achilles heel as other players join them among the darkening trees.
Can he fight his way out of the woods before the flames of revenge consume everything?
Genre: Police Procedural; Detective and Mystery; Crime Fiction; Suspense Published by: Level Best Books Publication Date: September 30, 2025 Number of Pages: 319 ISBN: 979-8-89820-033-6 (pb)
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My Book Review
RATING: 4 out of 5 Stars
KILLER TRACKS (Misty Pines Mystery Book #3) by Mary Keliikoa is an intense genre mash-up of mystery/crime thriller/police procedural that kept me turning the pages. This is the third book in this series and like most books of this type, the mystery/crime plot is complete and resolved in each book, but the characters’ relationships continue to evolve, and I feel the series is best read in order.
Sheriff Jax Turner has agreed to spend a week away with his FBI agent ex-wife, Abby, to work on their relationship. When they arrive at the remote cabin, they notice things that has Jax’s cop radar on alert. They discover a lone female camper who is hiding something and deal with the sabotage of their vehicle. Jax discovers a dead park ranger and now is desperate to get Abby safely off the mountain as they are chased by not only a killer, but a wildfire.
Meanwhile in Misty Pines, Deputy Rachel Killian is in charge and dealing with an apartment explosion and a dead tenant found in another apartment. As she inspects the body with the new medical examiner, the body has an “X” carved into his chest and the medical examiner realizes this signature is reminiscent of an old serial killer case. Rachel is also dealing with her cold case detective father showing up in Misty Pines unannounced. The more they investigate, they begin to fear for Jax and Abby.
This is a very good story that weaves two crime plots together that come from two different directions and ends with an explosive resolution. There were plenty of twists and surprises and towards the end the suspense kept me on the edge of my seat. While Jax and Abby are both interesting, flawed characters, sometimes I find Abby not sympathetic, but a bit annoying, but not enough to stop reading the series. I find Misty Pines an interesting town and as I get to know more of the secondary characters, it gets even more interesting.
I really enjoyed this gripping crime thriller/mystery, and I am looking forward to more books in the Misty Pines series.
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Excerpt
PROLOGUE
Click. Slide. Clang.
If he never heard that sound again, it’d be far too soon. That, and the sleepless nights under a thread-bare wool blanket that chafed his exposed skin, the looming threat of death… in the yard, the shower, the halls to and from the cafeteria or his cell.
Death and desperation seeped from the pores of this godforsaken place. So thick he could almost taste it. No amount of soap, no amount of ritual, would rid him of the stench that clung to him—though he’d be willing to try.
It was over now. Dying among these second-class men would not be his fate. A man of his intellect, a man far superior to the minions around him, deserved better than what he’d endured these past years.
He’d eagerly reeducate those who believed otherwise. They’d all see it by the time he was through with them, just like those that came before.
Click. Slide. Clang.
A voice echoed off the concrete walls.
“Inmate 22-A-4242. Gather your crap. Time to go.”
He stood, hands to his sides.
“Ready to face the world?”
He remained silent. None would get the satisfaction of his acknowledgement.
The voice continued. “They gave you a goddamn Hail Mary. Bleeding heart liberals anyway. Don’t screw it up.”
He bowed his head to obscure his smirk.
“Right. I know your type. You’re innocent.” The guard continued rambling. “That’s what all you convicts say. ‘I didn’t do it.’ ‘I was framed.’ ‘It’s unconstitutional.’” The guard’s voice dropped to a growl, prickling his skin. “Tell that to the victims and their families. I’d reckon less than one percent of you bastards got a legit claim.”
The guard had forgotten betrayed, of which he surely had been. But he shrugged, not to agree, but to stave off the urge to wrap his hands around the guard’s throat. So close to freedom…
Whether he was innocent or not had no bearing; it had not been among the criteria for the help he’d received. Being wrongfully convicted qualified. According to the junior team that had embraced his cause when he’d written the letter, they agreed that’s what had happened in his case. Even if it took them ten years, he loved a system that allowed more loopholes than the cable-knit sweater Mother had dressed him in for school.
“Sell it to someone else, you psycho,” the guard snapped. “Bet you money. We’ll see you again real soon.”
A jagged smile crossed his face. The guard had part of it correct—but he’d never be back here. Next time, he’d be less gullible.
And he intended to snuff out anything that could hurt him, like the light of every other woman who hadn’t seen his worth.
Chapter One
Some days, it didn’t pay to get out of bed.
Sheriff Jax Turner had experienced more than his fair share of those mornings in the past six years. First, when his daughter Lulu died from leukemia. Then, when his marriage dissolved—more like shattered into a million pieces. Followed by a couple of cases that had tested his limits of trust. They’d destroyed some, too.
Today was different.
Abby Kanekoa, his ex-wife with whom he’d shared the gutting grief of those past years, had offered hope for reconciliation—the chance to glue a few of those pieces back together. It would never be the same without their little girl… but perhaps they could create something new.
Leaving for the mountains just after Labor Day was less than ideal. Though with the tourist season coming to an end in Misty Pines, and Abby due a vacation at the Bureau, it was the best time. Deputy Rachel Killian, his new hire and right hand, was turning out to be as capable as he’d hoped. Applicants for filling the gaps at their station had been sparse. Few, it seemed, wanted to work these days—or work at the often cool and foggy Oregon coast. He’d at least been able to get most of his young crew on full-time payroll, so Rachel had help.
Bottom line, getting away was Abby’s idea. He would not tell her no.
Now to get through the pep talk with the team. The two major events of the past year had allowed them to punch a few notches into their experience belt, but wisdom and reliance on gut instinct were born with time. Leaving them to run Misty Pines without his guidance had his muscles taut.
He entered the sheriff’s office with his duffle flung over his shoulder.
“Oh hon, don’t tell me that’s all you’re taking for the week?” Trudy said. Jax’s long-time secretary, and overall, Team Mother to him and his ragtag group of deputies, lifted the headset off her ears.
He suppressed a smile. “Glad to see your accident hasn’t made you any less opinionated.”
Eight months had passed since the event that had nearly stolen her from him and the team. A warm and fuzzy Trudy would be hard to get used to—he was grateful he didn’t have to learn.
Trudy rested the headset around her neck. “Looks like Abby hasn’t given you any clue about where you’re going.”
“Other than the mountains, not much. I’ve tossed a few essentials in my truck.”
“Like?”
“A good book and a board game.” He smiled. “A couple of bottles of wine.”
She arched her brow.
“What? I’m assuming she’s arranged for us to be at some luxury resort.”
“You think so?”
“Abby likes her massages, saunas, breakfast in bed.” Not to mention time basking on the deck with a steaming cup of coffee. For being a tough no-nonsense woman, and a hell of an FBI agent, she liked the finer things—and she’d earned every damn one of them.
“And what do you like?” Trudy asked.
He chuckled. Not much of what he’d just mentioned. “Roughing it.”
“Hmmm…and she arranged this for the two of you to reconnect?”
His smile faded; he dropped the bag at his feet. “Are we camping?”
Trudy laughed and shook her head. “When it comes to women, you do take a minute to catch up. Might I suggest a few more items?”
“Like a tent?” He’d have to dig it out of his garage, which wouldn’t take long.
“No. But a communication device might come in handy.”
“Abby said something about our phones being off for the week.” He shifted on his feet. “Are you saying we’re headed somewhere with no service?”
She returned to her desk in response.
Of course they were. Several interruptions to his and Abby’s conversations had come from the station over the past months. Too often, when they’d just settled into talk or were on the edge of a sensitive topic. Tourist season was like that every year with the random fender bender, a too-loud party on the beach, a drunken brawl at the pub. Some infraction demanding his attention.
Added to that, Brody had slid his motorcycle on wet pavement and nearly dislocated his shoulder in the spring. Garrett had a few interviews in Portland, one in Seattle. Matt was called in to stock shelves by his boss at the IGA grocery store when they were short staffed, which had become more consistent.
Time with Abby had been the price, although the last time they’d carved out a night together still brought a smile to his face. Maybe this trip signaled her intention of wanting more quality togetherness. That thought alone made having limited phone access worth it regardless of where they went, even as the uneasiness of being out of contact with his crew niggled at him.
He flung the bag back over his shoulder and headed to his office.
The click of claws on the linoleum sounded behind him.
“Boss.” Rachel and Koa, her black lab, came out of the kitchen. “You all set?”
“Almost. Picking Abby up soon for what appears might be a wilderness retreat.”
Rachel laughed. “Don’t look so concerned.”
“I’m not.”
“Uh-huh. That’s why you have a crease between your eyebrows.”
He rubbed the spot. “Guess I’m not fond of surprises.”
“Never have been myself, but I have a feeling you’ll have fun.”
“According to Trudy, I will. Hope Abby does.” It was sweet she’d chosen a place that appealed to him—more imperative if she enjoyed herself. She’d never been one to sleep on the ground.
“Believe me, she did good.”
“Take it you know where we’re headed?”
“Not precisely.”
“How about a hint of what you do know, so I’m better prepared?” Having spent far too much time in the dark, he preferred to be ahead of things these days.
She did a zipping motion in front of her mouth. “I get that it’ll be difficult for you, but try not to worry. The men and I have everything covered.”
He nodded. Letting go of the wheel would never be easy, and in law enforcement things could change quickly. But Rachel was solid, and he trusted her… despite his former partner Jameson not agreeing with him hiring his only daughter. Jax had made the right call; he stood by it. There should be no hesitation about him and Abby taking a week for themselves.
“You’ll get a hold of me if there’s a problem?” he said.
“You won’t have any way…”
“I’m taking the satellite phone.”
Rachel folded her arms over her chest. “Suppose that’s smart after the last trek in the wilderness…”
“Exactly my thought.”
Rachel pursed her lips, likely recalling that day when radio silence had left her and the team wrought with worry as they waited for word on whether Jax and Abby were alive. But Abby should understand his decision, if it came up. Probably better it didn’t.
“Let’s do a briefing before I head out,” he said.
Rachel winked. “The men are waiting for you in the strategy room.”
He chuckled. That’s why there’d been no sign of them when he’d arrived.
In his office, he set his duffle bag on a chair, and retrieved the satellite phone, burying it near the bottom in a T-shirt. Once he checked his email for the tenth time and cleared his desk, he started toward the meeting room, until he heard voices in the reception area.
Trudy was holding open the station’s door. The men were grabbing their gear about to file out, Rachel and Koa behind them.
“What’d I miss?” Jax said.
Koa turned at the sound of his voice, trotting to his side. Jax squatted next to her, draping his arm gently over her back.
“Nothing to worry about, boss,” Rachel said.
“Just a routine traffic revision, chief,” Brody said. “We’ve got it.” He’d gelled down his wispy brown hair today, making him look young. Too young.
“I’ve got forty minutes before…”
“Oh no you don’t, Jax Turner,” Trudy said. “It’s a half-hour drive to Abby, and you will not be late.”
Rachel lifted a brow at her black lab, who promptly returned to her side.
Fine. Jax stood. He’d wanted a team he could rely on, and he had one. So why did he feel left out? “Who’s in need of traffic revision anyway?”
“Fire department,” Trudy said.
“There’s an apartment complex on fire at the edge of town,” Rachel said.
Battalion Chief Mike O’Brien rarely requested assistance. With the remaining tourists eking out the last of their holiday weekend there could be a traffic log, he supposed.
“I’ll go with you,” Jax said.
Rachel held up her hands in a stop gesture. “Please. Get out of here and have a good time.”
Before he could protest, Rachel was out the door and Trudy shut it behind them. Through the glass, Jax watched his team slide into two of the patrol cars.
“You heard your deputy, hon. Get your stuff and head to Abby’s. And don’t come back until you and that saint of a woman have worked everything out.”
Trudy was right. He needed to check his ego. Misty Pines could handle a week without him.
A call came through Trudy’s headset which she tapped to answer. She settled behind her desk as he grabbed his bag, her voice fading as he walked outside.
“Yes, Mrs. Harper. Just a small fire. Nothing to worry about.”
***
Author Bio
Eighteen years in the legal field, and an over-active imagination, led Mary Keliikoa to plot murder—novels that is. She is the author of the domestic thriller DON’T ASK, DON’T FOLLOW, the newly released KILLER TRACKS, the third book in the Misty Pines mystery series which is an IPPY Silver and Bronze Award winner, Silver Falchion finalist, and a Foreword Indies award finalist, and the Shamus and CLUE Finalist, and Lefty, Agatha and Anthony nominated “PI Kelly Pruett” mystery series. Her short stories have appeared in Woman’s World and the anthology Peace, Love and Crime.
Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for MURDER AT THE MOULIN ROUGE (A Blackwell & Watson Time-Travel Mysteries Book #5) by Carol Pouliot 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 Promoamp giveaway. Enjoy!
***
Book Description
Paris, 1895. When a cancan dancer at the Moulin Rouge falls to her death from the top of one of Montmartre’s highest staircases, the police dismiss it as an accident. But, Madeleine was one of Toulouse-Lautrec’s favorite models, and the artist is certain she was murdered. Enter Depression-era detective Steven Blackwell and 21st-century journalist Olivia Watson who travel back in time to Paris to hunt down the killer. Before long, they learn that a second dancer—a ballerina and favorite model of painter Edgar Degas—has died. Two dancers dead in two weeks. Two artists grieving. Is the killer targeting young dancers, or, does this case involve the enigmatic Paris art world?
From the moment Steven and Olivia arrive, Steven is out of his element. The small-town cop has no idea what techniques the French police use in 1895. Worse, he has no official status to investigate murder in one of the world’s largest cities. The sleuths soon discover disturbing secrets at the Paris Ballet. And when Olivia insists on going undercover to visit a suspect’s house alone, Steven fears he’s made the biggest mistake of his life.
Travel back in time with Steven and Olivia, as they enter the back-stabbing world of dance in one of the world’s greatest cities. Murder at the Moulin Rouge is their most daring and dangerous case to date.
Genre: Traditional Police Procedural with a Time-Travel Twist; Historical Mystery. Published by: Level Best Books Publication Date: September 23, 2025 Number of Pages: 325
***
My Book Review
RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars
MURDER AT THE MOULIN ROUGE (A Blackwell & Watson Time-Travel Mystery) by Carol Pouliot is an intriguing historical mystery as well as a time-travel romance all intertwined with memorable protagonists. This is the fifth book in the series, and they keep getting better and more captivating with each story. I do recommend reading them in order, while the crime plots are completed in each book, the main protagonists, Steven and Olivia’s relationship continues to progress and evolve over the series.
Depression era detective Stephan Blackwell and 21st century journalist Olivia Watson are relaxing after their last adventure, when they are shocked by the appearance of Steven’s deceased artist mother as her younger self asking them to return with her to Paris in 1895 to help her friend, Henri Toulouse-Lautrec. One of his models, Madeleine, from the Moulin Rouge has been murdered, but the Paris detectives have called it an accident. Henri has set Stephen up with a detective friend from the Surete Nationale and the three set out to discover who killed Madeleine.
The sleuths discovered Madeleine started at the Paris Ballet but moved to the Moulin Rouge. They also discover another young ballerina died from poison just a few weeks before. Are the two cases connected? Stephen and Olivia are both trying to uncover a killer while trying to navigate a time where both are trying to fit in.
I always enjoy a trip through time as Olivia helps Stephan with his cases in 1934, but this book takes both to a completely new city and time period, Paris in 1895. The descriptions of the historical artists who inhabited the city at this time and the life of the fictional dancers pulled me in and I felt like I was there. The intricately plotted and paced crime mystery kept me turning the pages and I was very satisfied with the conclusion. The research is evident in the details of the city and inhabitants’ lives. Stephen and Olivia’s relationship continues to grow even with the difficulties of living in different moments in history. I always look forward to getting the next book in this series with its great mix of history, crime mystery, and romance.
I highly recommend this engaging historical mystery/time-travel romance in the Blackwell & Watson Time-Travel Mystery series.
***
Excerpt
Chapter One
December 25, 1934
Knightsbridge, New York
“I need you to come to Paris.”
“You need what?” he asked.
Detective Steven Blackwell stared at the younger version of his mother standing in the room that had been her studio. Jaw dropped, eyes like saucers. He could barely speak.
“I need you—and your friend Olivia, if you like—to come to Paris. There’s been a murder and the police aren’t doing anything,” said Evangéline. “I thought I heard a voice a minute ago. Was that Olivia? Why don’t you get her? She’s probably wondering what’s going on.”
In a daze, and feeling like he had no control over his actions, Steven turned away from the vision of his mother and stumbled out into the hallway. He saw Olivia still waiting in the doorway at the end of the hall. Her hand flew to her chest, and she heaved a great sigh. “Oh, my God, you’re okay! What’s going on? I thought I heard voices. Is somebody here?” As he came closer, she noticed the look on his face. “What’s wrong? You look funny.”
“It’s my mother. My mother’s here.”
“What?”
“She looks as real as you do, but she’s young, around our age. She said she needs me to go to Paris. And you should come too.”
“What?” For one terrifying moment, Olivia wondered if a year of grieving had unhinged Steven’s mind. How could his mother be here? Evangéline Neuilly Blackwell died last January.
Steven repeated Evangéline’s instructions. “She said I should come get you.” He held out his hand. Olivia took it and stepped over the threshold into 1934.
They moved slowly down the hall then paused at the doorway to look at each other. Steven squeezed her hand. Olivia nodded. They both took a deep breath then entered Evangéline’s studio.
There in the shadowy room stood a beautiful woman, shoulder-length copper hair shining in the lamplight. She was slender, taller than average, and wore a stunning emerald dress, the kind French women wore to perfection. A wool coat with a fur collar had been thrown over the back of a chair. She held out her hand toward Olivia.
“Hello. I’m Evangéline Neuilly. I’m so happy to meet you.”
Olivia had always wanted to meet Steven’s exotic-sounding mother—a famous French artist—but that possibility had died along with Evangéline. Or so she had thought. Olivia told herself to close her mouth, which had fallen open, and shook the woman’s hand. “Olivia Watson.”
Evangéline looked at Steven. “I can tell you’re surprised to see me. I must not have told you about my ability to time travel. Surely, you wondered why you can? And if your father or I also had that ability?”
“Eh, no. Not really.”
Evangéline rolled her eyes and gave Olivia a look that said, Men, huh?
Olivia couldn’t help grinning.
“Well,” Evangéline opened her arms wide, “here’s the answer to your unasked question. You got it from me.”
Olivia recovered first. “So, Evangéline, you traveled here from…when?”
“1895. And I really need your help. Both of you.” She shook her head and waved her hand back and forth. “I know. I know. You have a lot of questions. Let’s go downstairs and have something to drink. I’ll tell you what has happened.”
They trouped down the stairs and into the living room.
“I know I must have lived in this house for some time and I assume I decorated this room….” Evangéline turned to Steven for confirmation.
“Yes, we lived here about twenty years or so before you….” He swallowed hard.
“Before I died,” she whispered, then patted his hand. “Pauvre chouchou. Poor sweetheart. I’m so sorry. But, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know when. Of course, I have an idea. But not the exact date.” She opened a door in the sideboard. “Bon! A bottle of red.” She handed the wine to Steven.
Still dazed, he opened it and poured a glass for each of them. Evangéline curled up in a leather chair. Steven and Olivia sat facing her on the couch.
His mother took a sip and pursed her lips. “Not bad. So, listen, we must act fast. A young girl has been killed but the police do nothing. They say it was an accident. We know it was not. I want you to find out who killed Madeleine Gervaise.”
His cop’s instincts kicked in, and Steven found himself intrigued. Who was Madeleine Gervaise? How did she die? Why do the police think it was an accident? And what was her connection to Evangéline?
Suddenly, Steven remembered something Sherlock Holmes once said: “When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.” And with that assurance, he snapped out of his stupor and accepted his mother’s bewildering appearance. He leaned forward.
“All right, let’s say, for the sake of argument, that I can and will go to Paris. Answer these questions.” He ticked them off his fingers. “Why do the police think it was an accident? How do you know it wasn’t? When did this happen?”
Evangéline placed her feet on the floor and mirrored him, ticking her answers off her fingers. Olivia almost laughed at the two of them. Talk about a chip off the old block, as her grandfather used to say. “She fell on one of the tall staircases in Montmartre. The police say she slipped on the ice. My friend Henri knows the human body and how it works. He says the…how do you say ‘marks of black and blue’?”
“Bruises,” Olivia chimed in. “We also say black-and-blue marks.”
“Ah! Bon. Henri says the bruises prove someone pushed her. It happened late Sunday night, early Monday morning. Today is already Wednesday. That is why we must move fast.”
Steven groaned, thinking of the days lost. “Is Henri a doctor?”
“No, an artist. But, believe me, Steven, he knows the body. If Henri says she was pushed, she was pushed.”
“So, again, if we were to do this, how would it work?”
“We must go with all speed. That means we must travel in Olivia’s time in one of those fast aeroplanes. That’s how I got here so quickly.”
“Wait, how do you know about Olivia?”
“Oh, mon Dieu, the questions! It is a long story but if it will help speed this up…last summer, I traveled to 1934, to America, with someone on business that had nothing to do with you or my future. When I was in New York City, I saw a photograph in a newspaper of the painting I’m working on right now. The article said a museum in Chicago had bought it and gave information about me, you, and your father. While my friend was completing his business, I had a couple of days to myself, so I took a train here and came to this house. Naturally, I was curious, so I came in and looked around. You really shouldn’t leave your doors unlocked, you know. Anyway, I saw the photograph of Olivia on your dresser. You have her name and the year 2014 written on the back. I realized you had inherited my ability to time travel and that Olivia also had the gift.” Evangéline blew out her cheeks. “Can we not return to the problem at hand now?”
Steven grinned. “Yeah, okay. You know, I always thought you learned English when you moved here with Dad. You speak really well.”
She rolled her eyes. “As you must know, my father is a professor of English at the Sorbonne. He taught me when I was a child.” She took a drink of her wine. “Now, to our problème…I went through the portal in Paris, from 1895 to Olivia’s time.”
“Why did you go into Olivia’s time?”
“If you keep interrupting me, we will never get anywhere. Just listen.” Evangéline took another drink of wine and went on. “Time is of the essence, as it’s already been almost three days. We must travel into 2014 and go to New York City as quickly as possible. Someone there will help us with what we need. Tomorrow night, we’ll fly to Paris. Once we’re there, we’ll travel back to 1895.”
“You make it sound easy. But I have so many questions,” Steven persisted. “How are we going to pay for all this? How do I get a passport fast enough to fly tomorrow? What about other things we might need?”
His mother tilted her head toward the ceiling and sighed. “You think I have come all this way without a plan? Before I left, Henri gave me a sketch. There’s a man in New York City—you will soon learn we have travel agents in cities all over the world who help us. This man in New York City, a place called Brooklyn, is selling the sketch for me, so we’ll have plenty of money. He’ll make a passport and other documents for you, Steven, just as someone in Paris made mine so I could come here.” Evangéline turned to Olivia. “Do you have a passport? Do you drive an automobile?”
“Yes. And I have a car.”
“Can you take us to New York City tomorrow morning so we can get Steven’s documents and the money to buy our tickets for the aeroplane? We must leave for Paris tomorrow night.”
“Sure. Listen, Evangéline, I’m sorry to hear about your friend Madeleine.”
“Thank you. She was lovely—a dancer and one of Henri’s favorite models. Such a waste.”
“Who is Henri? And why would anybody buy one of his sketches?”
“Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec. I think he is well known in your time, Olivia.”
“Toulouse-Lautrec?” Olivia gasped. “He’s a friend of yours?”
“Yes, and he’s now your employer.”
Olivia’s jaw dropped.
Evangéline reached out toward Steven with her empty wineglass then settled back in the chair after he’d refilled it. “Now, let us talk about tomorrow. You must both pack a small bag. Steven, bring any tools or objects you will need to investigate. I don’t know what they might be, but that is most important. When we travel to my Paris in 1895, you can borrow clothes belonging to my friend Théo. He’s away on business right now. His wardrobe is filled with additional items—suits, shirts, collars, and so forth. There’s a cloak and hat as well. Olivia, we’re about the same size. I’m happy to share my clothes with you. I have plenty of skirts and dresses. I have an extra cloak, too. Just bring your personal things.”
Suddenly, Steven realized he had been given a gift. After a long, difficult year of grieving, he had the chance to spend time with the woman who would become his mother. How could he possibly say no?
“I’m sorry, but I have to interrupt again,” Steven said, grinning at Evangéline. “Before it gets too late, I need to call the chief to tell him a family emergency has come up and I need a few days off.” He stood and headed for the phone, then stopped. He turned around and walked back to Evangéline. “I know this is going to be weird for you. You don’t even know me yet. But I have missed you so much!” And he bent down and kissed his mother’s cheek.
***
Author Bio
A former language teacher and business owner, Carol Pouliot writes the acclaimed Blackwell and Watson Time-Travel Mysteries, traditional police procedurals with a seemingly impossible relationship between a Depression-era cop and a 21st-century journalist. With their fast pace and unexpected twists and turns, the books have earned praise from readers and mystery authors. Carol is a founding member of Sleuths and Sidekicks, 4 mystery writers who have banded together to share their love of mysteries, immediate Past President and Program Chair of her Sisters in Crime chapter, and Co-Chair of Murderous March, an online mystery conference. When not writing, Carol can be found packing her suitcase and reaching for her passport for her next travel adventure.
Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for CRIME WRITER by Vinnie Hansen on this Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tour.
Below you will find a book description, my mini book review, an excerpt from the book, the author’s bio and social media links, and a Promoamp giveaway. Enjoy!
***
Book Description
In the peaceful California coast city of Playa Maria, CRIME WRITER ZOEY KOZINSKI joins a local police officer for a ride-along in hopes of breaking through her writer’s block. But during a routine traffic stop, the cop is shot, the victim of a brutal homicide.
Zoey realizes she is the only witness and the number one target on the killer’s hit list. PTSD kicks in, sending her into a tailspin. It doesn’t help that she lives on an illegal cannabis farm and that her estranged mother has just arrived. Even the police officer’s widow points a finger at the writer, claiming she was a distraction, and the police department knew it.
Lurking on the fringes is a man who stopped briefly at the crime. Good Samaritan or sinister suspect? For her safety, Zoey needs to find out.
Genre: Suspense Published by: Level Best Books Publication Date: September 9, 2025 (ebook) Number of Pages: 266 (paperback) ISBN: 979-8-89820-027-5 (paperback)
***
My Mini Book Review
RATING: 4 out of 5 Stars
CRIME WRITER by Vinnie Hansen is an immersive crime thriller where the reader knows who the killer is and what he is doing to cover his tracks, but the interest, twists, and action are all centered around the protagonist, a crime writer and musician named Zoey Kozinski.
The red-headed and feisty Zoey witnesses the murder of the police officer she is doing a ride-along with during a routine traffic stop. The killer knows there is a witness and the drug trafficker he works for tells him he must eliminate her. With PTSD from the incident, the arrival of her estranged mother she has been hiding from, the cop’s widow who blames Zoey and wants revenge, and a man who appeared at the scene of the crime and keeps popping up in her life, Zoey needs to unravel what is happening and who to trust before she ends up dead.
This story starts out appearing to be very straight forward, but the more you learn, the more twisted and anxiety inducing the story becomes. Zoey is interesting and Ms. Hansen’s writing brings her to life with all her problems. The ending was not what I was expecting, but it is satisfying. For me, this was an interesting change in perspective from the usual crime thriller/police procedural mystery.
***
Excerpt
One
Day 1 – early evening
Heat from the Mobile Data Transmitter radiated onto Zoey Kozinski’s arm. The interior of the patrol car cooked, muggy and close. September brought the hottest weather to the central coast of California, anxiety about fires flaring as the oak leaves curled and undergrowth crisped. Thankfully, Officer Austin kept the windows of the patrol car open even as the sun started to set.
“Must be boiling with your vest.”
“Better to sweat than bleed.” Austin’s profile was sharp angles, pointed nose, strong chin.
“How much does that thing weigh?” Zoey already knew, but the officer didn’t seem talkative. She needed to crack the façade and dig out some grist to apply to Officer Horne, the character in her book. Her stalled, barely-started book.
“Six pounds.”
Officer Austin rolled along Scenic Drive, a main thoroughfare through Playa Maria County. Zoey wished they could listen to music, something to go with driving on a sultry evening, maybe Ella Fitzgerald’s “Summertime.” Instead, the police radio spat information, filling awkward silence. Zoey jotted down that a list of stolen cars was tucked on the left side of his dash. She’d chosen a night shift, hoping for a modicum of action but nothing on the radio stirred Austin’s interest.
“How do you feel about ride-alongs?” She flipped her legal pad and the printed-out opening pages of her manuscript winged to the floor. All two of them. A whopping three hundred ten words. She bent down to retrieve them.
“It’s part of our Community Policing.” Austin kept his focus forward. “To increase civilian awareness of what police work entails.”
She didn’t bother to write down the canned response.
Austin must be a rookie to receive the crappy assignment of hauling a ride-along, but he didn’t look like one. Silver highlighted his short hair. Older than her fictional Officer Horne. Her protagonist Horne should be young, freshly free of his training wheels, a more credible character to rush toward a terrible mistake after witnessing the shooting of a fellow officer.
In the margin of the legal pad, she scribbled: A hot-head. Temper=hubris. Too eager to prove himself?
Then she wrote Stan and put a question mark after it. The name of the murdered officer in her manuscript had appeared in a magician’s puff of smoke, typed by her fingers before she was conscious of a choice. Not a common name for guys of her generation, the lost kids born between Generation X and the Millennials. The name had merit—easy to pronounce, but not overly used. Why had it popped into her head?
She slipped her pen through her tangle of red hair and scratched her scalp.
Austin shot her a glance, maybe thinking she didn’t know she was using the ink end.
“Writing off the top of your head?”
She smiled slightly. Witty for a police officer.
He quirked a brow. “Making headlines?” His tone was dry. No smile. Was he being funny or busting her balls?
Zoey tapped the legal pad. Her next question wasn’t on it, but Austin’s age and his quips begged for it.
“What did you do before becoming a law enforcement officer?”
Long fingers curled around the wheel, maneuvering the vehicle through the rush-hour clog of Scenic Drive. He scanned the lanes of traffic and sidewalks long enough that she thought he wasn’t going to answer.
“I was a teacher.”
“Really?” Her voice squeaked with unveiled surprise. Heat rose up her face. With her coloring, there was no playing off a blush. When she was a kid, her Grosse Pointe classmates had pinned her with the nickname Tomato.
“High-school history.” In the parking lot, he’d offered a firm handshake and introduced himself formally as Officer Austin, although he’d added with a trace of humor ‘at your service.’ Over six-feet with ropy muscles, he was a bit old for her, maybe forty-five, but a hottie, nonetheless.
“That’s a strange career trajectory.”
“Not really. In both jobs you deal with a lot of young punks.”
As part of the outreach program, he probably was not supposed to refer to members of the community as punks. She was making progress.
“In policing I bet you have more flexibility about how you deal with punks?”
His lip curled, but he didn’t respond.
“So why the career move?”
“In teaching, the more you work, the less you’re paid,” he said. “Police work offers time-and-a-half for overtime. Ten-hour shifts and four-day work weeks. More money and time for my family.”
“Kids?”
“Three.”
She felt a twinge of disappointment. Her sex life had been reduced to her Magic Wand, and Austin wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, so a bit of fantasy had slipped under her normally guarded door. Since she didn’t want a relationship, a hot cop could be the ticket. Married killed that idea.
And three kids! With the world’s exploding population and global climate change, that was self-indulgent. One of her least favorite character flaws—in reality. In fiction, it was a great character flaw.
“My wife’s the one who should have made the career move to cop,” Austin volunteered. “She’s a tiger. Can outshoot me.” He shook his head in admiration.
Another twinge. She had a serious weakness for men who complimented women in absentia.
Zoey touched the cool metal of the AR15 propped in front of the passenger seat. “This is some serious fire power.”
The creases in his uniform lifted infinitesimally, a hint of a shrug. “You should see what they have on the street.”
She ran her finger down her list of questions. Nothing so far had gotten the juices flowing. “What kind of handgun do you carry?”
“Smith & Wesson. Officers with more seniority get Berettas. The most senior officers have Glocks.” Jealousy tinged his voice. “But if you want a better gun, you can buy one. I’m looking at a Glock.”
The crackling voice of dispatch relayed a report of a middle-aged black male dealing drugs in Playa Maria Park.
Austin swung off Scenic onto a street that cut along the seedier edge of downtown, where the homeless population dwarfed the number of university students. He slowed at the park.
Dusk had sifted into darkness, but streetlights illuminated the perimeter of the grass. Young men played basketball in a well-lit court. A lone man leaning against a light pole straightened at the cruiser’s arrival. Austin put the windows up, parked the car, and plucked a wood baton from the base of his door. “Remain in the vehicle.”
Another patrolman rolled up and joined him. She noted details. Suspect’s dreadlocks glisten in bluish light. Tan pants bag around skinny legs.
Austin questioned the man, while the other officer patted him down and dipped into the pockets of his army-fatigue jacket. With the window closed, Zoey sweated.
In the end, the man bumped away and swaggered toward the basketball court.
Talking together, the officers watched him, then turned in the direction of the vehicle. Austin nodded. The other man laughed. They were talking about her. The inside of the cruiser steamed like a sauna. Austin was letting her marinate in a patina of sweat.
Zoey opened the passenger door, which prompted Austin to step toward the cruiser. Before he plopped into his seat, he thunked his baton into its spot.
“I asked the suspect if we could search him and he said no,” he started before Zoey even asked. “But he has a Search Clause.” Austin cleaned his hands with foam sanitizer. “That’s a bargain he made for probation. He relinquished his right to probable cause.”
She scribbled the information. This was good stuff, strengthening her knowledge of the law.
“But you didn’t find anything?”
“Maybe he sold out.”
Dry humor. Deadpan delivery. Her favorite. To curtail a blush, she cast her eyes to the pocket of his door.
“Don’t most officers these days carry whip-batons?”
He gave her a look.
Amazing eyes—way greener than her own. He yanked the baton from its spot and held it across his lap, the top grazing her thigh.
Phallic symbol, for sure. The air inside the car shifted subtly.
“See all those nicks?” he said. “My T.O. gave this to me, said the riff-raff on the street notice the dents. They’re mostly from getting in and out of the car, but hey,” he returned the baton to the door pocket, “they don’t know that.”
He gave his hand a second squirt of the sanitizer. “I tell you one part of this job I don’t like. The grime. You’d have to get up close to appreciate how much that guy . . . how grubby he was.” Austin started the car. “Tell you the truth, I’m more afraid of an accidental needle poke than a gunshot.”
“Was he dealing?”
“I imagine.” Austin put down the windows. Fresh air rushed into the compartment. “He doesn’t have any other means of income.”
The radio called Austin to roust a panhandler near the entrance to the freeway. Civilian complaint. Austin zoomed back up to Scenic. At the intersection before the freeway entrance, he stopped at a red light with the rest of the traffic. The girl panhandling on the median spotted the cruiser, folded her sign, and meandered down the sidewalk.
Austin turned and rolled along the street across from the girl. In spite of a curvaceous figure packed into tight jeans, with her wavy brown hair hitched into pigtails she looked all of fifteen. The girl ignored them.
Zoey twisted toward Austin. “Are you going to stop?”
“She’s not doing anything illegal now. She didn’t even jaywalk.” He sped up. “We got her off the median.”
“Yup. Sure did.” He knew, and she knew, that as soon as they were out of sight, the girl would return to her spot.
How do they negotiate spots? She wrote. First come, first served?
If she asked Austin about the girl—did he know her—what was her story—she sensed he’d blow off the questions. The police department had picked the wrong officer to give ride-alongs. Austin lacked a gregarious, empathetic personality.
Zoey tried to unpack how she’d arrived at this conclusion. Maybe because he’d chosen policing over teaching. Police work had to be more frustrating than high school teaching, certainly less rewarding.
***
Author Bio
A Claymore and Silver Falchion finalist, Vinnie Hansen is the author of the Carol Sabala mystery series, the novels LOSTART STREET, ONE GUN, and CRIME WRITER, as well as over seventy published short works.
She is a member of Mystery Writers of American, Sisters in Crime, and the Short Mystery Fiction Society. A retired high-school English teacher, she lives with her husband and the requisite cat in Santa Cruz, CA.
