Book Tour/Feature Post and Book Review: Kill to Keep by Elena Taylor

KILL TO KEEP

by Elena Taylor

July 6 – August 14, 2026 Virtual Book Tour

Hi, everyone!

Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for KILL TO KEEP (Sheriff Bet Rivers Book #3) by Elena Taylor on this Partner’s 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 and good luck!

***

My Book Description

Sheriff Bet Rivers’ inspection of the carnival grounds should have been routine. Murder is certainly the last thing on anyone’s mind. Then comes the sound of a gunshot. And a dead body with no signs of trauma, no witnesses and no obvious motive for the killing.

But solving the unexplained death is only part of the challenge. Bet is still grappling with her on-off relationship with town owner Rob Collier, while dealing with her feelings about her late father, the beloved town sheriff she had to replace.

As Bet launches her homicide investigation, she soon discovers the carnival is a place of whispers, rumours, resentments and lie after lie. And as the stakes build, it quickly becomes clear that protecting a deadly secret is something that someone is willing to kill to keep.

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/246509602-kill-to-keep?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=x0SGEDtFCt&rank=4

Kill to Keep

Genre: Police Procedural, Rural Crime Fiction
Published by: Severn House
Publication Date: July 7, 2026
Number of Pages: 279
ISBN: 9781448317400 (ISBN10: 1448317401)
Series: Sheriff Bet Rivers Mystery Series

***

My Book Review

RATING: 4 out of 5 Stars

KILL TO KEEP (Sheriff Bet Rivers Book #3) by Elena Taylor is an action filled smalltown crime thriller/police procedural in the Sheriff Bet Rivers series. I enjoyed the characters and investigations in the previous books and looked forward to reading this new one. Like most books in this genre, as the series continues the lives of the main characters also develop, but the criminal investigation plots are always concluded in each book.

Sheriff Elizabeth “Bet” Rivers has settled into her role as the sheriff of her smalltown in Collier, Washington. Former FBI agent Rob Collier and longtime friend invites Bet to do a walk-through of the carnival that has come to town and is leasing part of his property. A gunshot rings out and when they investigate, they discover a dead body, but it has no gunshot wound.

Bet and her team, along with the help of Rob, find silence and deception from many of the carnies. It will take all their skills to discover the identity of the body and the killer.

I found this addition to the series to be another well plotted crime thriller with plenty of suspects and twists. Bet is once again a smart and resourceful smalltown sheriff who makes do with what she has and the excellent help of her deputies, Clay and Nate, Rob, and Alma, her senior office manager/computer tech extraordinaire.  And you cannot forget Schweitzer, her Anatolian Shepard. My small criticism of this book, which made it not as enjoyable as the previous two was Bet’s continual internal dialogue about her and Rob’s relationship. It felt overdone and not what I would expect from Bet. Even though I was not really interested in the carnival plot to start, it did pull me in the further I progressed in the story, and I realized I had some of the same prejudices of carnies as Bet. The revisiting of the town and characters along with an intricate crime plot made this another solid addition to the series and I hope to read many more in the series.

I recommend this smalltown crime thriller and the entire Bet Rivers series.

***

Excerpt

ONE

The air above the blacktop rippled as Sheriff Elizabeth “Bet” Rivers drove west. The tiny town of Collier struggled under a heatwave that had swept through Washington State and turned the last week of June unexpectedly brutal. The sun, barely over the tops of the mountains surrounding the community, already beat down hard. By midday, it would be merciless on the traveling Carnival Roma where they’d set up on the hardpacked dirt at the far end of the valley.

Bet parked the SUV in the makeshift visitor lot and eyed the temporary fencing around the fairgrounds. It didn’t encircle the entire footprint, tempting reckless souls to take a shot at getting in through the back for free.

She sauntered up to the empty ticket booth where Robert Collier Junior stood with an unreadable expression on his face. He cocked an eyebrow. “Mornin’, Sheriff.” His voice was warm and low, teasing her with his formality.

Pretending deference, she tipped the brown campaign hat that covered her auburn curls. “Mr. Collier.”

At thirty-seven, Rob had more than a few care lines etched into his tanned face, and the dark, neatly trimmed beard had begun to show hints of gray. He held out his arm. “Shall we?”

“We shall.” Bet wrapped her fingers around the crook of his elbow, enjoying the tingle that always arrived when she touched him. They had stopped and restarted seeing each other so many times since they’d met last September that her head spun, but the physical attraction was always there—at least for her. Rob played his feelings close to the vest. Recently, there had been phone calls and texts that he ignored in her presence, or left the room to answer, giving Bet the impression she wasn’t the only woman in his life. She worried that they had missed their chance at something wonderful and would fall into the awkward role of “friends.”

It surprised her how much that hurt.

Following Rob through the turnstile, she kept her fingers tucked against his arm. “I feel special getting in before opening day.”

“It’s my role as the person renting the land to do a walkthrough, and as the head of local law enforcement, you should confirm that everything meets your approval.”

“And as a bonus, you get to show off your newfound status as feudal lord of the manor.” She meant it as a joke about his recently expanded fortune but caught Rob’s grimace from the

corner of her eye. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s OK.” He stopped and pulled her around to face him. “It’s not your fault that I’m uncomfortable owning an entire town.”

Not to mention international corporations and properties across the US. His sudden riches had regularly taken him away from their remote high elevation valley, interrupting their progress as a couple and turning him into someone else. Toe-to-toe, she got a better look at the dark circles under his eyes. There was a toll to all the travel his new position forced on him. Rob had left the Collier family responsibilities behind years before to pursue a career with the FBI, but his

father’s death had sucked him back in. As the sole heir, he felt obligated to the people his father’s businesses employed and responsible to various organizations.

He tugged her closer, and she closed her eyes, the heat of his body seeping through their clothing in direct competition with the weather. Standing together, the world felt right, even with a heat dome hovering over their heads.

All too soon, Rob stepped back with a glint of amusement in his eyes. “I wanted to join the circus once.” The brim of his hat cast a shadow across his face and for the briefest of moments, he looked like a stranger.

Bet wasn’t sure if he was joking. “Because you wanted to run away?”

“Because I wanted to be Buffalo Bill.”

“And star in a Wild West show.” Bet could picture him on his big Morgan horse, shooting targets at a full gallop.

“Something like that.” The two continued their walk, and with no one around to see them, Bet kept her grip on his elbow, touching the soft blue denim of his shirt. It made them feel like a real couple. She’d never wanted that until now, when it wasn’t clear if they would ever be committed.

The midway split the meadow in half. Food stalls filled one side while games of skill and chance filled the other, with rides scattered in between. The big blue and white striped tent at the far end promised trick horses and acrobats, shimmering in the heat like a mirage. Carnival Roma combined the food, rides, and fun of a carnival with the live performances of a circus, guaranteeing tourist dollars for her often-overlooked town and spectacle under the big top.

As they made their way along the empty “street,” Bet imagined Rob in a fringed coat, performing with the big horse he’d brought with him to Collier almost a year ago. “You still got to carry a gun to work for the FBI. That’s almost like Buffalo Bill.”

“Does that make you Annie Oakley?”

They reached the first of the games—multi-colored balloons to pop with darts, metal targets to hit with little peashooters, heavy white milk cans stacked into pyramids waiting to be knocked into the dirt by an oversized softball. Memories of the past filled her, the view of those games from a child’s eye level. Her father always waving off trying his hand at hitting the targets. A crack shot, he didn’t believe guns should be used as toys.

The stalls were unattended, but a tall, gangly man stood not far away watching them—his blue polo shirt had GUS stitched in gold letters on the left side and a patch with the carnival’s logo on the right.

Rob gestured toward the shooting gallery like a game show host pointing out the grand prize. “Care to prove your gunslinger skills, Sheriff?”

“Only if Gus’ll let us use the dart game.” Bet didn’t hold the same belief as her father, toy guns didn’t bother her, but she refused to fail at hitting the targets with the carnival rifles because the sights were bad.

Gus started his singsong patter as he climbed over the knee wall in front of the games. “Hit a balloon and win a prize.”

Hefting a dart, Bet readied her shot. The pink balloon popped as the point found its target, but before they could finish the high five she aimed Rob’s way, a sharp crack rebounded down the valley. “That was—”

She caught Rob’s startled expression, and they finished with eyes locked together, “—a gunshot.”

Bet’s hand went instinctively for the gun in her holster. But before she drew, she reached down to her backup weapon and held the Smith & Wesson Shield Plus out to him. Planning a fun morning off, his weapons were all back home in his gun safe. Rob gave her a nod, the micro-compact looking tiny but lethal in his hand. They started toward the far end of the carnival grounds, their steps in sync.

Carnival workers streamed toward them, away from the blast at the north end of the midway. With the carnival opening in two days, performers and other staff had likely been at their various tasks and rehearsals. Now they formed a mob, racing toward the entrance, their voices loud and frightened.

Bet grabbed the arm of a young woman running by, wearing a glittery costume. Her silver tights and gold leotard were draped in spangled scarves and netting, which sparkled in the bright sunlight. “What did you see?” Bet asked her.

“Nothing.” Her wild eyes focused and she took in Bet’s sheriff uniform. “I was inside the big top when I heard the gunshot. It sounded close, like it came from out back where the trucks are parked.”

Bet let the woman go and she slipped into the crowd as Bet picked up speed in the other direction. She caught up to Rob, who had paused a short distance away. “Could have come from behind the tent,” she said.

His expression was grim, his body taut as they jogged toward the far end of the midway. “At least there haven’t been any more shots,” he said.

If this had been a spree, the report wouldn’t have stopped at one. But Bet wasn’t taking any chances. Kane Stand, her sole full-time deputy, answered his cell on the first ring.

“We may have an active shooter at the carnival,” Bet said before he could get a word out. “Call Clayton and get him back here now.” She hoped her part-time deputy was still in the area, his night shift had only recently ended.

Kane’s calm voice came through. “Will do. He just left, so he hasn’t gotten far.” Kane grounded her as she fought to steady her breathing. “Do we need Addy?” he asked.

Addy Jamisen was an EMT who owned the only ambulance to serve the rural valley.

“Yes, please. Call her too. But wait with her and Clayton at the front entrance while Rob and I determine if someone has been injured or there’s still a threat.”

“OK, but if I hear gunshots, I’m coming to back you up.” Kane’s voice said not to argue with him doing his job. “Keep me posted on your location.”

“We’re heading past the southeast corner of the tent to get behind it. I’ll be in touch.”

She made eye contact with Rob, and they moved faster in tandem again, weapons drawn.

The tent blocked their view of all the travel trailers for the crew and performers parked behind it, along with transport vehicles for rides and booths and animals. As they came around the side of the tent, the forest of vehicles and trailers threw angular shadows onto the ground. Danger could hide in the fractured light.

Fifty feet away, a man lay face down in the dirt near the back of the tent—as if the gunman had already hit the bull’s-eye, only to slip away in the crowd.

***

Author Bio

Elena Taylor spent several years working in theater as a playwright, director, designer, and educator before turning her storytelling skills to fiction. Her first series, the Eddie Shoes Mysteries, written under Elena Hartwell, introduced a quirky mother/daughter crime fighting duo. She is also the author of the standalone suspense novel, The Haunting of Emily Grace.

With the Sheriff Bet Rivers Mysteries, Elena returns to her dramatic roots and brings readers much more serious and atmospheric novels. Located in Washington State, Elena produces tense and suspenseful investigations for a lone sheriff in an isolated community.

Her favorite place to be is at Paradise, the property she and her hubby own south of Spokane, Washington. They live with their equines, dogs, and cats.

Social Media Links

ElenaTaylorAuthor.com
www.TheMysteryOfWriting.com
Amazon Author Profile
Goodreads
BookBub – @elenataylorauthor
Instagram – @ElenaTaylorAuthor
BlueSky – ‪@elenataylorauthor.bsky.social‬
Facebook – @elenataylorauthor
YouTube – @ElenaHartwellAuthor

Purchase Links

###

PICT Giveaway

https://pictbooks.tours/E6AxdgOJ

Book Tour/Feature Post and Book Review: A Cold, Cold World by Elena Taylor

A COLD, COLD WORLD

by Elena Taylor

July 29 – August 23, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

Hi, everyone!

Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for A COLD, COLD WORLD (Sheriff Bet Rivers Book #2) by Elena Taylor on this Partners ‘n’ 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 Kingsumo giveaway. Enjoy!

***

Book Description

A female sheriff tries to fill her late father’s boots and be the sheriff her small Washington State mountain town needs as a deadly snow storm engulfs the town, in this dark, twisty mystery.

The world felt pure. Nature made the location pristine again, hiding the scene from prying eyes. As if no one had died there at all.

In the months since Bet Rivers solved her first murder investigation and secured the sheriff’s seat in Collier, she’s remained determined to keep her town safe. With a massive snowstorm looming, it’s more important than ever that she stays vigilant.

When Bet gets a call that a family of tourists has stumbled across a teen injured in a snowmobile accident on a mountain ridge, she braves the storm to investigate. However, once she arrives at the scene of the accident it’s clear to Bet that the teen is not injured; he’s dead. And has been for some time . . .

Investigating a possible homicide is hard enough, but with the worst snowstorm the valley has seen in years threatening the safety of her town, not to mention the integrity of her crime scenes – as they seem to be mounting up as well – Bet has to move fast to uncover the complicated truth and prove that she’s worthy of keeping her father’s badge.

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/208707891-a-cold-cold-world?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=XW93OEwlHR&rank=1

A Cold, Cold World

Genre: Police Procedural, Mystery
Published by: Severn House
Publication Date: August 6, 2024
Number of Pages: 256
ISBN: 9781448314065 (ISBN10: 1448314062)
Series: A Sheriff Bet Rivers Mystery, Book 2 | Each is a Stand-Alone Mystery

***

My Book Review

RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars

A COLD, COLD WORLD (Sheriff Bet Rivers Book #2) by Elena Taylor is an intricately plotted small town sheriff procedural crime thriller and the second book in the intriguing Sheriff Bet Rivers series. This book can be read as a standalone, but I felt both books are great reads, and I feel you would enjoy the first in the series, All We Buried, too.

Sheriff Bet Rivers is now the duly elected sheriff in place of her deceased father in her small hometown in Collier, a Cascade Mountain valley in Washington state. With a massive snowstorm looming, Bet receives a call that a family of tourists discovered a snowmobile accident with a teen victim. Bet finds the teen is not only dead but shows signs of having been dead for some time. As she investigates, she is called about a break-in at a summer cabin that appears to be a crime scene. Is it related to her dead teen even though the cabin is in a different area of the valley?

With a major storm over the valley and multiple crime scenes, Bet is stretched thin. She is doubting her ability to fill her father’s shoes as this complicated case has surprises with every piece of evidence uncovered.

Bet is a wonderful protagonist who is dogged in her pursuit of justice, but still worries that she is not up to the responsibility of being the sheriff her father was in her hometown. With this complicated case, she proves that she is. I was happy to reconnect with Alma, who runs the sheriff’s office and Bet’s deputy, Clayton. The team is great together and now with the addition of Deputy Kane, I will be looking forward to reading how they all work together in future stories. The crime plot is intricately twisted and kept me on the edge-of-my-seat. The blizzard adds to the threat level throughout, and Ms. Taylor’s descriptions of the wind and snow had me shivering even though it is the middle of summer as I read this.

I highly recommend this crime thriller and look forward to many more books in this series featuring Bet and her team in the future.

***

Excerpt

ONE

Bet Rivers sat in the sheriff’s station and watched the radar on her computer screen turn a darker and darker blue. Snow headed for the little town of Collier and keeping everyone safe was her responsibility. Bet’s advancement to sheriff had taken place less than a year ago, but the name Rivers had followed ‘Sheriff’ all the way back to the founding of the town. None of the previous Sheriff Rivers, her father included, ever failed the community, and she didn’t plan to be the first. With her father’s death last fall, Collier residents were the closest thing she had to family.

The valley Bet protected sat high in the Cascade Mountain Range of Washington State. Winter storms often dropped a couple inches of snow at once, a situation Collier could handle, and winter had been relatively mild so far. February, however, was shaping up into something else. 

This morning, nearby Lake Collier – a dark and dangerous body of water the locals respected from a safe distance – started freezing completely over for the first time in years.

Bet couldn’t remember such a large storm ever bearing down on the valley. The weather was determined to test her in ways that patrolling the streets of Los Angeles and her short stint as sheriff had not yet done.

Clicking off the weather radar screen and opening another file, Bet read over her severe winter storm checklist. Snowplow – ready to go. Volunteers with tractors and trucks with snowplow attachments – set. The community center would be open twenty-four hours a day in case the town’s power went out and people needed a warm place to go. Donna, the elementary school nurse, was on hand for minor health emergencies. She would be staying at the center twenty-four seven until the storm passed. 

Most residents owned generators and a lot of people used fireplaces for heat, but the community center provided a central location for anyone in trouble. 

Nothing like living in an isolated mountain valley to make folks respect what Mother Nature hurled at them – and rely on each other, rather than the outside world. A lot of people would look to the sheriff as a leader. She couldn’t let them down.

Bet turned her attention to the pile of pink ‘while you were out’ notes that Alma still loved to use rather than sending information to Bet digitally. Alma was much more than an office manager, but she also fought certain modern conveniences. 

Most of the notes were mundane issues that Alma could handle, but the last in the pile was a call from Jamie Garcia, a local reporter trying to get back into Bet’s good graces after an incident a few months ago had cost her Bet’s trust.

Wants to chat about the possibility of an increase in drug use in the area, the note read. Specifically – meth.

That would definitely have to wait. It crossed Bet’s mind that Jamie might exaggerate the situation just to have reason to touch base with her, but Bet taped it to the computer monitor to follow up on after the storm passed. Her valley didn’t have the kind of drug problems as many other communities, and Bet wanted to see it stay that way. If Jamie had any information on a rise in illegal activity, that could be useful.

The rest of the notes she would return to Alma to deal with. Right now, weathering the tempest would take all of Bet’s resources.

Bringing up the radar one more time, Bet’s stomach clenched as she tracked the monster storm. What if she made a decision during this event that hurt her entire community? Confidence didn’t make responsibility lighter to bear, and the hot, sunny streets of Los Angeles hadn’t prepared her for one thousand residents slowly buried under several feet of snow. They were a long way from the plowed highways and larger cities with fully functional hospitals. 

Bet was the first line of defense against disaster.

She was also likely the last line of defense. Once they were snowed in, she couldn’t bring help in from the outside.

A year ago, she had been poised to take the detective’s exam in Los Angeles. Her goal was a long and successful career in the nation’s largest police force. But events outside her control got in the way, and now she was back in Collier, trying to fill her father’s large, all-too-recently vacated shoes. 

She faced a once-in-a-century storm with her lone deputy, a septuagenarian secretary, and one very big dog.

Her first instinct was to talk to her father, but his death prevented her from ever gaining new insight into his expertise. Her second instinct was to contact Sergeant Magdalena Carrera. Maggie had mentored Bet during her time at the LAPD. 

‘We chicas need to stick together,’ she’d said to Bet early on in her career, back when Bet still called her sergeant. 

But as good as Maggie was at her job, Bet doubted she’d have much advice about facing a blizzard.

‘It’s up to us, Schweitzer,’ Bet said to the Anatolian shepherd sitting in her doorway. ‘As long as no one has a heart attack after the storm hits, we’ll be fine.’ Schweitzer had a look on his face like he knew what was coming. He always could read her mood, not to mention the weather, and he’d been edgy all morning. 

She had learned to read his mood too, and right now it wasn’t good.

‘It’s going to be all right, Schweitz.’ It surprised her to realize she believed her own words. She could handle this.

Lakers – residents proudly took the nickname from their mysterious lake – could hunker down in their valley and survive on their own. Everyone in town knew that if snow blocked them in and a helicopter couldn’t fly, they had no access to a hospital. But Donna was good at her job too. Plus, it would only be for a couple of days.

The phone on her desk rang, jarring her from her thoughts.

As long as the ring didn’t herald an emergency, everything would be fine.

Bet rolled out in her black and white on the long teardrop of road that circled the valley. She didn’t turn on her siren; there wasn’t anyone on the loop to warn of her approach and the sound felt too loud, like a scream into the colorless void. The emergency lights on top of her SUV stained the white unmarked fields of snow on either side red, then blue, then red again, like blood streaking the ground. Her studded tires roared on the hard-packed snow, the surface easy to navigate – at least for now. 

The drive to Jeb Pearson’s place took less than twenty minutes, even with the worsening conditions. Pearson’s Ranch sat at the end of the valley farthest from the lake and the town center. The ranch occupied an area the locals called the ‘Train Yard’, though that name didn’t show up on any official maps. 

Long ago, the roundhouse for the Colliers’ private railway perched there at the end of the tracks. The roundhouse was a huge, wedge-shaped brick structure, like one third of a pie with the tips of the slices bitten off. It was built to house the big steam engines owned by the Colliers. The facility could hold five engines, each pulled inside through giant glass and iron doors. Engines could be parked and serviced inside the roundhouse, while an enormous turntable sat out front to spin the engines around, sending them down different tracks in order to pass each other in opposite directions.

It was unlikely the Colliers ever housed five engines up here all at once, but they owned other mines around the state and had used engines in other places. It must have been reassuring to know that if they ever needed to, they could bring their assets up here, protected in their high-elevation fiefdom. 

Jeb used the property as a summer camp for boys who struggled with drug and alcohol addictions and guesthouses for snow adventure enthusiasts during the winter. Jeb lived there year-round, with a giant Newfoundland dog named Grizzly, a half a dozen horses, and one mini donkey named Dolly that helped him rehabilitate the boys. 

Bet pulled up in front of the roundhouse. The cabins and other outbuildings stretched away from where she parked, with the barn the farthest from the road. The pastures were empty with the storm bearing down, the animals all safely tucked away in their stalls. Jeb stood out front with two bundled figures that must have been the father and son who were currently staying at his place. A third member of their party, the mother, was nowhere to be seen. 

Bet got out of her vehicle and walked over to where two of Jeb’s snowmobiles were parked, running and ready to go. Layers of winter clothing padded Jeb’s wiry form, his face ruddy in the arctic wind. 

‘What have we got, Jeb?’

‘Mark and Julia Crews and their son Jeremy came across what looks to be a solo wreck up on Iron Horse Ridge. They didn’t have any details about the driver’s condition, so I’m not sure what we’re looking at. The parents wanted to protect their son and got him out of there before he could see anything gruesome. These two came down to get me while Mrs Crews stayed with the injured rider.’

Bet nodded to the man standing a few feet away. Only part of his face was visible through the balaclava he wore. His eyes looked haunted. 

‘You did the right thing,’ she said to him. ‘If the driver’s got a spinal injury, you could have done more damage than good trying to bring them down.’ She didn’t add that if the driver was dead there was nothing to be done except locate the next of kin.

‘Thanks, Sheriff,’ Mark Crews said, his voice shaky. ‘That was—’

Emotion cut off the man’s words. He reached for his son and pulled him close. The boy didn’t resist, but he also didn’t hug his father back. Bet considered checking the boy for shock, but guessed he was just a teen being a teen.

She gave Mark a nod and hoped the accident victim survived the wait – otherwise Mark Crews would always wonder if he should have made a different choice. 

The father got his emotions under control and turned his attention back to Bet. ‘Please get my wife Julia down safely.’ 

Jeremy might be shocky, but the two people up on the ridge were her priority.

‘Always prioritize,’ Maggie said to Bet on a regular basis. ‘Don’t get caught up trying to fix everything at once. Fix the big things first.’

Her father would have agreed. His voice no longer took precedence in her mind, but his teachings never left her.

Bet promised to take care of Julia Crews and walked over to straddle the closest snowmobile. Pulling on the helmet she’d brought, she tucked her auburn curls out of the way before closing the face shield. Bet admired the Crews family for helping a stranger as the ominous storm bore down on the area. It must be terrifying to know Mrs Crews waited up on the ridge as the weather closed in. Bet was impressed the family put their own safety in jeopardy for someone they didn’t know. Not everyone would do that. It would have been easy enough to pretend they never found the accident, leaving the driver alone in the snow.

Jeb hopped on the other snowmobile, which was already set up to tow the Snowbulance – a small, enclosed trailer with a stretcher mounted inside. Bet made eye contact with Jeb to confirm she was ready, and they took off with him in the lead. Search-and-rescue was Jeb’s specialty, and he knew the terrain better than she did. 

Her father Earle always said a good leader knew when to follow. Like most of her father’s advice, Bet knew it was true even if her instinct was never to admit someone else was the right person for a job she could do. In her defense, her father never faced life in law enforcement as a woman. 

Maggie always said, ‘Never let a man think he’s got control. If you hand control over, he’ll never give it up.’ 

Bet wasn’t her father, but she wasn’t a patrol officer in LA, either. Sometimes neither Maggie’s nor her father’s advice was any help to her at all.

Not far from the ranch, Jeb turned off the main road and started up a forest service road that went west and north into the mountains. The turnoff wasn’t obvious, so it was interesting that the Crews had found that particular trail. 

Snowmobiling was a popular sport in Collier and a lot of people used these forest service roads for trails, even the ones that were officially closed to traffic because there were no funds for maintenance. Without anyone to police the extensive system, the locals used them as their own private playground.

The roads connected in a complex web throughout the area. The injured teen could have arrived at the ridge from any direction. The forest was riddled with paths that the forest service no longer had the money or workforce to keep up, but people and animals kept cleared. In a lot of ways, the community benefited from the interlopers who cleared the roads, because that provided fire access into their local forest, which would otherwise become impassable through neglect.

If the brunt of the storm held off long enough for them to locate the scene of the accident and get the injured teen down the mountain before the conditions worsened, everything should still be all right. 

Bet kept her focus on Jeb’s sled as they rode up the hill. The road turned dark as they got farther into the trees and the cloud cover grew almost black. She was glad for the headlight and someone she trusted to follow. At least in this moment, her father’s advice was right.

If only the injured rider survived the wait.

***

CREDIT MARK PERLSTEIN

Author Bio

Elena Taylor spent several years working in theater as a playwright, director, designer, and educator before turning her storytelling skills to fiction. Her first series, the Eddie Shoes Mysteries, written under the name Elena Hartwell, introduced a quirky mother/daughter crime fighting duo.

With the Bet Rivers Mysteries, Elena returns to her dramatic roots and brings readers much more serious and atmospheric novels. The series introduces Collier, Washington, with its dark and mysterious lake, tough-as-nails residents, and newly appointed sheriff with her sidekick Schweitzer, an Anatolian Shepherd.

Elena is also a senior editor with Allegory Editing, a developmental editing house, where she works one-on-one with writers to shape and polish manuscripts, short stories, and plays. If you’d like to work with Elena, visit www.allegoryediting.com.

Her favorite place to be is at Paradise, the property she and her hubby own south of Spokane, Washington. They live with their horses, dogs, and cats. Elena holds a B.A. from the University of San Diego, a M.Ed. from the University of Washington, Tacoma, and a Ph.D. from the University of Georgia.

Social Media Links

www.ElenaTaylorAuthor.com
Elena’s Blog: The Mystery of Writing
Goodreads
BookBub – @elenataylorauthor
Instagram – @elenataylorauthor
Twitter/X – @Elena_TaylorAut
Facebook – @ElenaTaylorAuthor

Purchase Links

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | Severn House

###

KINGSUMO GIVEAWAY

https://kingsumo.com/g/1ggvk61/a-cold-cold-world-by-elena-taylor-book-gift-card

Book Tour/Feature Post and Book Review: Reckoning by Baron Birtcher

RECKONING

by Baron Birtcher

September 4 – 29, 2023 Virtual Book Tour

Hi, everyone!

Today I am sharing my Feature Post and Book Review for RECKONING by Baron Birtcher on this Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tour.

Below you will find a book synopsis, my book review, an excerpt from the book, the author bio and social media links. Enjoy!

***

Book Synopsis

Ty Dawson is a small-town sheriff with big-city problems, in this riveting crime thriller from the award-winning author of Fistful of Rain.

As lawman, rancher, and Korean War veteran, Ty Dawson has his share of problems in the southern Oregon county he calls home. Despite how rural it is, Meriwether can’t keep modernity at bay. The 1970s have changed the United States—and Meriwether won’t be spared.

A standoff looms when the US Fish & Wildlife Service seeks to separate longtime cattleman KC Sheridan from his water supply—ensuring the death of his livestock. If that’s not enough trouble, a Portland detective is found dead in a fly-fishing resort cabin. Though the Portland police, including the victim’s own partner, are eager to write off the tragedy as a suicide, Ty has his own thoughts on the matter—as well as evidence that points to murder. His suspicions soon mire him in a swamp of corruption that threatens nearly everyone around him. Turns out that greed and evil are contagious—and they take down men both great and small . . .

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/123226006-reckoning?ac=1&from_search=true&qid=36Qh6a5Bzl&rank=1

Reckoning

Genre: Neo-western crime thriller
Published by: Open Road Integrated Media
Publication Date: June 2023
Number of Pages: 300
ISBN: 978-1-5040-8280-8
Series: Sheriff Ty Dawson Series, #3

***

My Book Review

RATING: 5 out of 5 Stars

RECKONING (Ty Dawson Mysteries Book #3) by Baron Birtcher is a twisted suspenseful thriller/historical mystery/police procedural mash-up featuring a rural county Oregon sheriff and rancher set the late 1970’s that kept me reading well into the night. This is the third book in the Ty Dawson series, but I was able to easily read it as a standalone.

Sheriff Ty Dawson is a Korean war veteran, rancher, and rural Meriweather County sheriff in southern Oregon. Ty gets called out to an elderly neighbor’s ranch belonging to KC Sheridan and his wife when the US Fish & Wildlife Service fences off the longtime water supply for his cattle. Sheridan’s wife’s brother lost his ranch to the government and is now instigating his militia friends to make a stand to save KC’s ranch.

At the same time, a Portland detective is found dead in a resort cabin. His partner and the chief of police in Portland all want the death classified as a suicide and the case closed. Ty and the medical examiner know he was murdered, and he is willing to fight against the PPD to discover the truth.

Ty and his deputies work to keep the standoff at the Sheridan ranch from escalating, while also following leads in the murdered detective case. Ty is determined to find the truth, but it will cost him.

I love Ty Dawson and now want to go back and read the first two books in the series. He loves his wife and daughter, still has nightmares from his time in Korea, and has a strong sense of justice that must be satisfied. Set in the late 1970’s, historical references, significant events and lack of current technology are all intertwined throughout the story without slowing the pace. The two investigations are intricately plotted and perfectly paced. I was surprised to learn how the two investigations are tied together at the climax of this story. Greed, political corruption, drugs, and prostitution are all in abundance in this investigation with plenty of twists that keep you guessing. This is a new to me author that I am very happy to have found.

I highly recommend this addition to the series, and I am looking forward to reading more Ty Dawson books in the future.

***

Excerpt

Prelude:

A TRANSITIVE NIGHTFALL

NO CHILD IS brought into this world with any knowledge of true evil. This they learn over the passage of time. In my experience as a Sheriff, and as a rancher, I have found this precept to be true.

Time passes nevertheless, even if it passes slowly. Here in rural southern Oregon, sometimes it seemed as if it hadn’t moved at all, advancing without touching Meriwether County, except with glancing blows.

That is, until the day it caught up with us all, and came down like a goddamn hammer.

CHAPTER ONE

ORDINARILY, AUTUMN IN Meriwether County would come in hard and sudden, like a stone hurled through a window. But this year it snuck in slow and mild, lingered there deceitfully while we waited for the axe to come down.

The sky that morning was turquoise, empty of clouds, the altitude strung with elongated V’s of migrating geese and a single contrail that resembled a surgical scar, the narrows between the high valley walls opening onto a broad vista of rangeland some distance below. I had expected ice patches to have formed on the pavement overnight, but the weather had remained stubbornly dry, even as temperatures closed in on the low thirties. I tipped open the wind-wing and let the chill air blow through the cab of my pickup as I stretched, and drank off the last dregs of coffee I had brought for the long southward drive from the town of Meridian.

I had received a phone call at home the night before from an unusually distressed KC Sheridan. I had known KC for as long as I can remember, a pragmatic and taciturn cattleman whose family history in the area dated back to the late 1800s, much like that of my own. Three generations of Sheridans had stretched fence wire, planted feed-grass and run rough stock across deeded ranchland that measured its acreage in the tens of thousands, and whose boundaries straddled two separate counties, one of which was my jurisdiction.

But the decade of the ’70s thus far had not been any kinder or gentler to cowboys than to anyone else, and KC and his wife, Irene, had found themselves increasingly subject to the fulminations and intimidation of both local and federal government. While the Sheridan ranch had once numbered itself among a dozen privately held agricultural properties in the region, KC now found himself surrounded on three sides by a federally designated wildlife refuge that had swollen to encompass well over three hundred square miles; a bird sanctuary originally conceived under the auspices of President Theodore Roosevelt’s white house. All of which would have been perfectly fine and acceptable to the Sheridan family, given the understanding that the scarce water supply that ultimately fed into the bird sanctuary belonged to the Sheridans by legal covenant, as it had for nearly a century.

I turned off the paved two-lane and onto a gravel service road, headed in the direction of the ridgeline where KC sat silhouetted against the bright backdrop of clear sky, mounted astride his chestnut roping horse. KC climbed out of the saddle as I parked a short distance away, switched off the ignition and stepped down from my truck. KC trailed the horse behind him as he moved in my direction, took off his hat and ran a forearm across his brow, then pressed it back onto his head. His hair and his eyes shared a similar shade of gunmetal grey, and the hardscrabble nature of his existence as a rancher had been recorded in the deep lines of his face.

“What the hell am I supposed to do about these goings-on, Sheriff?” KC asked, and cocked his brim in the general direction of a reservoir that was the size of a small mountain lake. Two men wearing construction hardhats were surveying a line on the near shore where a third man studied a roll of blueprints he had unfurled across the hood of his work truck.

“Is that who I think it is?” I asked.

“They aim to fence off my water. My cows won’t last a week in this weather.”

“Have you talked to them, KC?”

He nodded.

“’Bout as useful as standing in a bucket and trying to lift yourself up by the handle. It’s the reason I finally called you, Ty. I didn’t know what else to do.”

The vein on KC’s temple palpitated as he cut his eyes toward the foothills and spat.

“I’ll have a word with them,” I said. “You wait here.”

A wintry wind had begun to blow down from the pass, pushing channels through the dry grass and the sweet scents of juniper and scrub pine. A harrier swept down out of a cluster of black oaks and made a series of low passes across the flats.

I averted my eyes as the sun glinted off the US Department of Fish & Wildlife shield affixed to the driver side door of a government-issue Chevy Suburban. The man studying the blueprints didn’t bother to lift his head or look at me as I stepped up beside him.

“Care to tell me why you and your men are trespassing on private ranch land?” I asked.

The man sighed, scrutinizing me over the frames of a pair of steel-rimmed reading glasses. He had a face that put me in mind of an apple carving, and a physique that resembled a burlap sack filled with claw hammers.

“Who the hell are you now?” he asked.

“Ty Dawson, Sheriff of Meriwether County. That’s the name of the county you’re standing in.”

He took off his reading glasses and slipped them into his shirt pocket, hitched a work boot onto the Suburban’s bumper and offered me an approximation of a smile.

“Well, Sheriff, I’m with Fish and Wildlife—that’s an agency of the federal government, as I’m sure you’re aware—and I have a work order that says I’m supposed to put up a fence. And that’s exactly what me and my crew are doing here.”

I gestured upslope, where KC Sheridan stood watching us, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“You’re on that man’s private property,” I said.

The government man made no move to acknowledge KC.

“I don’t split hairs over those types of details, Sheriff. The work order I’ve got lays out the metes and bounds of the line, and me and my crew just install the fence where it says to. It ain’t brain surgery.”

“Scoot over and let me have a look at that site map.”

“I oughtta radio this in.”

“You do whatever you think you need to,” I said. “But do it while I’m looking at your map.”

He lifted his chin and looked as though he was conducting a dialogue with himself, then finally stepped to one side. I studied the blueprint for a few moments, looked out across the rock-studded range and got my bearings.

“Looks to me like the boundary line for the bird refuge is at least a hundred yards to the other side of this reservoir,” I said. “Your map is mismarked.”

“The agency doesn’t mismark maps, Sheriff.”

“They sure as hell mismarked this one. You need to stop your work until this gets sorted out.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“Care to repeat that? There’s clearly been a mistake.”

“No mistake. You need to step away, Sheriff.”

“Let me explain something to you,” I said, removing my sunglasses. “It’s the law in the State of Oregon that the water that comes up on Mr. Sheridan’s property belongs to Mr. Sheridan. Period. If you fence off his reservoir—especially this late in the season—you’re not only stealing his water, you’re murdering his herd.”

The agency man lifted his foot off the bumper, set his feet wide and faced off with me. He slid both hands into the back pockets of his canvas overalls and rocked back on his heels.

“Now it’s my turn to try to explain something to you, Sheriff: I been given a job to do, and I intend to do it. If you don’t walk away right this minute and leave me to it, I will be forced to radio this in. Long and the short of it is, the guys who will come out here after me will have badges, too. And their badges are bigger than yours.”

“I won’t allow you to trespass onto private property, steal this man’s water and kill his livestock.”

He glanced at his two crewmen staking the line then turned his attention back to me.

“You going to arrest us?” he asked.

“What is it with you agency people? Why is it that your first inclination is to slam the pedal all the way to the floor?”

“When me and the boys come back out here, it won’t just be the three of us no more.”

“I’m finished talking about this,” I said. “Pack up your gear and go.”

I could feel his eyes boring holes into the back of my head as I picked my way back up the incline where Sheridan stood waiting for me.

“I can tell by your stride that you had the same kind of dialogue experience I had with that fella,” KC said.

“Bureaucrats with hardhats.”

“I ain’t no cupcake, Dawson. But, you know that those sonsabitches have been tweaking my nose for years.”

“Those men are part of a federal agency, KC, make no mistake. If you’re not careful, they’ll try to roll right over the top of you.”

“What do you call what they’re doing right now? I don’t intend to lay down for it.”

“I’m not saying you should.”

“What, then?”

“Get on the phone and call Judge Yates up in Salem,” I said. “Ask him if he can slap an injunction on these clowns until we get it sorted out.”

Sheridan’s horse pinned back his ears and began to shuffle his forelegs, responding to the tone our conversation had taken. KC calmed the animal with a caress of its neck, dipped into the pocket of his wool coat, snapped off a few pieces of carrot and fed it to the gelding from the flat of his palm.

“I’ll do it, Ty, but I swear to god—”

“KC, you call me before you do anything else, you understand?”

Excerpt from RECKONING by Baron Birtcher. Copyright 2023 by Baron Birtcher. Reproduced with permission from Baron Birtcher. All rights reserved.

***

Author Bio

Baron R Birtcher is the LA TIMES and IMBA BESTSELLING author of the hardboiled Mike Travis series (Roadhouse Blues, Ruby Tuesday, Angels Fall, and Hard Latitudes), the award-winning Ty Dawson series (South California Purples, Fistful Of Rain, and Reckoning), as well as the critically-lauded stand-alone, RAIN DOGS.

Baron is a five-time winner of the SILVER FALCHION AWARD, and the WINNER of 2018’s Killer Nashville READERS CHOICE AWARD, as well as 2019’s BEST BOOK OF THE YEAR for Fistful Of Rain.

He has also had the honor of having been named a finalist for the NERO AWARD, the LEFTY AWARD, the FOREWORD INDIE AWARD, the 2016 BEST BOOK AWARD, the Pacific Northwest’s regional SPOTTED OWL AWARD, and the CLAYMORE AWARD.

Social Media Links

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/BaronRBirtcher/

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/books/reckoning-by-baron-birtcher

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/974486.Baron_R_Birtcher

Purchase Links

Amazon 

Barnes & Noble 

Goodreads 

Open Road Media