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Yesterday, I ____________________.
My favorite place to be is _________.
If I was granted one wish, it would be _________.
I have faith in God.
Yesterday, I was on my pool float reading and getting relief from the heat wave we are experiencing.
My favorite place to be is with my family.
If I was granted one wish, it would be that I lived closer to my granddaughter.
THE CHAIRMAN’S TOYS by Graham Reed
Genre: Crime Fiction, Mystery, Humor
Published by: Poisoned Pen Press
Publication Date: July 3, 2018
Number of Pages: 238
ISBN: 1464210055
ISBN13: 9781464210051
Review Copy from: Author
Edition: Kindle
My Rating: 4
Vancouver, British Columbia – land of psychotically expensive real estate, high-grade cannabis, and Jake Constable. A man adrift.
After Jake quits the drug business, his realtor/ex-wife, Nina, gets him a job as a house sitter for her wealthy clients. Jake celebrates by throwing a party in the mansion he was hired to look after. Unfortunately, the guest list gets out of hand, leaving Jake to contend with a hallucinogenic-vitamin-dispensing yogi, a dead guy in the bathroom, and The Norwegian – a criminal force of nature with a grudge against Jake.
When the owner of the multimillion-dollar crime scene returns home prematurely, only Jake’s inadvertent discovery of the man’s politically incorrect business history saves him from having to clean up after the party. But he still has to come clean with his ex-wife. The situation threatens to turn into an international incident when Nina’s power broker uncle and some Chinese government agents show up to turn the screws on Jake. Soon after that his friends start disappearing. With the Chinese government leaning on him and The Norwegian out to settle an old score, Jake comes up with a desperate plan to dupe a pair of secret agents, save his friends, and (why not?) solve the murder.
Editorial Reviews:
“…takes the reader on a fast, furious, and often hilarious tour. Watching him zigzag through the twisting plot is pure pleasure.” – Publisher’s Weekly
“Reed’s lively mystery debut may be overloaded with colorful characters and tricky subplots, but too much of a good thing is still a good thing.” – Kirkus Reviews
“…definitely belongs on your short list of amiable stoner sleuths, along with Bart Schneider’s Augie Boyer and Hal Ackerman’s Harry Stein. The dark-comedy aspect of this debut will also appeal to fans of Chris Knopf, David Freed, and Tim Cockey.” – Booklist
After reading the synopsis and editorial reviews, this book piqued my curiosity, and am so glad it did!
Jake Constable, former drug dealer and now house sitter to the rich, makes an unfortunate decision. He decides to throw a large party at the house he is tending to. What could go wrong? A bit of a mess? No problem, his friends Richard and Dante have a custodial cleaning business. Until Richard, who is at the party, texts him that “there’s a dead guy in the bathroom :(“. And no one knows who he is.
As Jake, Dante and Richard try to figure this mess out, Dante and Richard are kidnapped. And Jake finds himself involved with both some very unsavory men and government representatives of China.
Along with humor, the suspense of this debut novel was exciting to the very end. The cast of characters outlandish and sometimes comical. Impressive writing and storyline. I will be looking for more work by this author.
This indeed was an entertaining read!
Purchase Links: Amazon 🔗 | Barnes & Noble 🔗 | Goodreads 🔗
Susan Foster wants to retire. Her boss wants her dead.
After decades as Victor Kemp’s off-the books killer, Suzanne finally quits. Not until five years later does Kemp discover how thoroughly she’s deceived him. Determined to punish her, he tracks her to Wales to watch her die. Instead, he walks into a trap.
Believing themselves safe at last, Suzanne and her family relocate to London, where she hopes to find the peace that has eluded her for so long. Her son is engaged to a nobleman’s daughter; her husband has a good job with British Intelligence. Yet she still struggles with restless dreams and the premonition that her nemesis has survived.
He has: Kemp, though severely injured, is rebuilding his empire and plotting revenge. He’s prepared to risk everything to end the former assassin. He may not be the only one.
Suzanne has no choice: to protect those she loves, she will be forced to kill again. Assassins, it seems, can never retire.
“An explosive page-turner which owes its momentum to it two well-drawn opponents and a conflict that goes beyond good-vs.-evil.” ~IndieReader, Four Star review
“Later turns in the smashing final act come at a searing pace.” ~ Kirkus Reviews
“Keeps readers guessing the outcome right up to its conclusion.” ~D. Donovan Midwest Book Review
Book Details:
Genre: Suspense Thriller
Published by: Ruthenia Press
Publication Date: January 8, 2018
Number of Pages: 304
ISBN: 9780999548721
Purchase Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Audible | Goodreads
No day is, not really. We humans are hard-wired to survive. By most standards, though, this morning is exceptional. The weather is balmy, even for May. The fierce winds that often pound the Welsh coastline have remained offshore. Purple heather blankets the emerald cliffs that encircle Bristol Bay. Small breakers gently lap the shoreline and wash the sand clean of debris. The water sparkles in the sunlight. Shades of azure and aquamarine yield to cyan and lapis further out. In the distance, the sea meets a cerulean sky just where the earth curves. No slate clouds gather at the horizon. All is calm.
Nothing suggested that today I would find myself on a bench in one of the most breathtaking spots in the world with a gun to my head, held by a predator who speaks just two words: “Don’t move.”
***
Excerpt from The Former Assassin by Nikki Stern. Copyright © 2018 by Nikki Stern. Reproduced with permission from Nikki Stern. All rights reserved.
Nikki is the author of two works of non-fiction: HOPE IN SMALL DOSES, a 2015 Eric Hoffer finalist for books that provoke, inspire and redirect thought, and BECAUSE I SAY SO: MORAL AUTHORITY’S DANGEROUS APPEAL, as well as dozens of short stories. She is co-author on the Cafe Noir interactive murder mystery series, published by Samuel French. Nikki’s suspense novel, THE FORMER ASSASSIN has garnered strong reviews, including a four-star rating from Indie Reader. She’s working on a mystery/sci-fi series starring an unorthodox crime fighter named Samantha Tate. When she’s not writing about strong complex women, Nikki is working with several non-profits, taking Pilates classes, and attending to the needs of her dog, Molly.
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Mailbox Monday
Wednesday: VANISHING GIRLS by Lauren Oliver ~ eBook win via GR
Friday: PROTOCOL ONE by Nathan Goodman ~ eBook from Author
Please don’t ask me to _______________________.
I’d rather _________ than _________.
By this time next year, _________.
I would like tickets to fly to Italy in first class for my entire immediate family!!
I visited Italy while in High School and would love to go back and experience and see it through my sons’ eyes.
Please don’t ask me to eat liver.
Growing up I remember my grandmother cooking liver with onions and told me it was steak. The smell alone made me nauseous and one bite made me realize my grandmother lied. 😉
I’d rather live in a warmer climate year round than deal with the winters of New England.
By this time next year, I’ll be a year older.
ALL THESE BEAUTIFUL STRANGERS by Elizabeth Klehfoth
Genre: Thriller/Suspense
Published by William Morrow
Publication Date: July 10, 2018
ISBN-10: 0062796704
ISBN-13: 978-0062796707
Pages: 448
Review Copy From: Won from GR
Edition: HC
My Rating: 5
In the last day of summer, Grace Fairchild, the beautiful young wife of real estate mogul Allister Calloway, vanished from the family’s lake house without a trace, leaving behind her seven-year old daughter, Charlie, and a slew of unanswered questions.
Years later, seventeen-year-old Charlie still struggles with the dark legacy of her family name and the mystery surrounding her mother. Determined to finally let go of the past, she throws herself into life at Knollwood, the prestigious New England school she attends. Charlie quickly becomes friends with Knollwood’s “it” crowd.
Charlie has also been tapped by the A’s—the school’s elite secret society well known for terrorizing the faculty, administration, and their enemies. To become a member of the A’s, Charlie must play The Game, a semester-long, diabolical high-stakes scavenger hunt that will jeopardize her friendships, her reputation, even her place at Knollwood.
As the dark events of past and present converge, Charlie begins to fear that she may not survive the terrible truth about her family, her school, and her own life.
WOW! This was an outstanding debut novel!
This is going to be a very vague review as I don’t want to give even the least bit away. The kind of read that allows the reader to be transported into the story as if a bystander. The writing superb. Beyond engrossing!
I couldn’t turn the pages fast enough to read if Charlie’s mother truly abandoned her family or was she murdered as the maternal members of the family believed. And what about the Knollwood myth that there was a ghost on campus that belonged to an alumni, also a member of the elite group? How was it all connected?
I will say something about the title. While reading, I was wondering what the title had to do with this story. Who were “the strangers”? And then I read the following, where Charlie is talking about her mother, which I believe is so true:
Before I even existed, she had been many different things to many different people.
……no one can really understand the whole of a person. In many ways, my mother, my father-the people I was closest to, the people who meant the most to me—were strangers. Beautiful strangers.
Putting this author on my radar! A high voltage read!!
Purchase Links: Amazon 🔗 | Barnes & Noble 🔗 | Goodreads 🔗
When a rogue CIA consultant goes AWOL from his Middle Eastern post in response to his brother’s plea for help, he arrives just in time to witness his brother’s murder. For years, Jonathan Hunter and his brother Kevin Mallory had not spoken―until Kevin’s final words, “… Khalifah … Not Them … Maya.”
Pursuing his brother’s killer, Hunter stumbles into a nest of horrifying terrorist activity by Middle Eastern refugees, which sparks a backlash across America. In the shadows, Hunter’s mentor, the omnipotent Oscar LaRue, is playing a dangerous game with Russian Intelligence. Neither Hunter nor LaRue realizes that a new threat―the Iranian threat―has entered the game. Stakes rise as two shadowy players are one step ahead of Hunter and LaRue―Khalifah, a terrorist mastermind, and Caine, a nomadic assassin who dances with the highest bidder.
As attacks escalate and the country drifts toward another Middle East conflict, innocent refugees become trapped between the terrorists and the terrorized. Prejudice, hate, and fear vent everywhere. Is this who we’ve become? Before the country explodes, Hunter must find Khalifah, learn the next terror target, and pray he’s in time to stop further annihilation.
I usually don’t read espionage with foreign factions’ thrillers but there was something about the synopsis, along with the author’s bio, that intrigued me. Let me tell you, I’m so glad it did! This book scared me, in the way that this could happen in reality.
Jon Hunter Malloy, a U.S. government consultant of international security, receives a letter from his brother, a Virginia BCI officer, who he has not seen or talked to in 18 years, begging him to meet him. However, when he arrives on U.S. soil and is approaching their prearranged meeting location, he is too late. Kevin, his brother, has been shot and is close to death. But he has a message for Jon. Not fully understanding his brother’s last words, all Jon wants is to find out who murdered his brother. But after the local police and FBI arrive on the scene, there is definitely more to this situation. And thus starts the page turning at warp speed.
Terrorism has hit the U.S. But who is behind it?
The story takes place over 7days, and the action is ramped up with every page.
The characters had me guessing as to who was on the right side of the law and who wasn’t. Agents and double agents.
Without wanting to give even a little bit away, I will say this book held me captive with a nervous anxiety because I realized that this could actually happen. It was also frightening to think of how little we know of our government and the workings of it, in which Tj O’Connor gives us a peek.
Palpable non stop action that culminates in an explosive ending!! An exceptional and thrilling read! I promise you, you won’t be able to put it down!
I can’t wait for the next book! I highly suggest you pick this book up!
The Consultant has been chosen by Amazon to be a July Kindle Monthly Deal for $.99. Get your copy now.
“Tj O’Connor is that rare thriller writer with both talent and street time in the worlds he rockets us readers through. O’Connor’s stories will pull you in and race you through plots that come from behind the headlines in our crazy world.” ―James Grady, New York Times best-selling author of Last Days of the Condor
“The Consultant is a flat out, dynamite read. Fast paced, compelling, and all too real. O’Connor writes with authority and the pages fly by almost too quickly. My favorite kind of thriller, reminiscent of the best Ludlum and Forsyth.” ―Christopher Reich, New York Times best-selling author of Invasion of Privacy
“Thriller fans who value fast-paced action…will be satisfied.”―Publishers Weekly
“Hop on O’Connor’s back and enjoy this ride. Helluva fun tale full of action, layers, deceptions, twists, and surprises. Well worth finding this one, folks. Put the publication date on your calendar. It rocks.”―Men Reading Books
Book Details:
Genre: Thriller
Published by: Oceanview Publishing
Publication Date: May 15th 2018
Number of Pages: 432
ISBN: 1608092836 (ISBN13: 9781608092833)
Purchase Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads
Day 1: May 15, 2130 Hours, Daylight Saving Time
East Bank of the Shenandoah River, Clarke County, Virginia
The gunshots took me by surprise and, without luck, might have killed me. The first shot splayed a spiderweb across my windshield before it whistled past my head, peppering glass needles into my face. The second smashed my driver’s-side mirror. An amateur might have panic-braked and skidded to a stop—a fatal mistake. The shooter hesitated, anticipating that decision, and readied for my failure.
Training. Muscle memory. Response.
I gunned the engine, wrenched the car to the left to put more steel between me and the shooter, and sped forward, looking for cover.
My headlights exploded and flashed dark. Bullets breached the windshield. The rearview mirror and rear window were gone. Had I not flinched, one shot would have found my right eye but shredded my headrest instead.
I careened to a stop at the bottom of the boat launch— vulnerable. The shooter was ahead in the darkness, likely maneuvering for another shot. A closer shot. The kill shot. He’d be closing the distance and finding a new advantage.
Luck had its limits, so I dove from the car and rolled to cover behind it. I fought to control the adrenaline and bridle my thoughts.
Easy, Hunter, steady. Listen—watch—survive.
I stayed low and crept along the side of the car, looking for better cover. Spring rain made the darkness murky and dense. The Shenandoah River was to my left some fifty feet. A blind guess. Overhead, two dark spans of the Route 7 bridge blocked what little light there was but provided some cover from the rain. The six substructure supports in front of me might afford me cover. They also afforded the shooter cover. He was hidden and waiting. Still, Kevin Mallory was nowhere to be seen. Under normal conditions—and normal is relative with me—I might have judged the shots’ origins. Driving headlong into an ambush on terrain I’d long ago forgotten, in darkness and rain, I was all but defeated.
Silence.
Easy, Hunter, easy. Count your breaths. One, two, three.
Out there, somewhere, someone wanted me dead.
Worse. I was unarmed and alone.
Jesus. Where was Kevin?
The boat launch was just a small gravel lot tucked beneath the expanse of the Route 7 Bridge across the Shenandoah. At night it should have been empty. It was nearing ten p.m. and I hadn’t expected to find anyone but Kevin. Yet, while we’d been estranged for years, under bad circumstances, I doubted he was hunting me.
Although, I do tend to bring out the worst in people.
Ahead, perhaps seventy-five feet, a dark four-door SUV faced an old pickup. The vehicles were nose to nose like two dogs sniffing each other.
No movement. No sound.
One, two, three. I ran to the nearest bridge support, stopped, listened, and bolted to the rear of the SUV.
Silence. Safety. But something else—a dangerous odor. The pungent scent of gasoline. A lot of gasoline.
I got down on one knee and looked around. The dome light was on and the driver’s door was ajar. Something lay on the ground near the left front fender. A large, bulky something that washed an angry tide of flashbacks over me.
I’d seen silhouettes like that before.
A body.
Bodies look the same in any country, under any dark sky. It didn’t matter if it were the rocky Afghan terrain or along a quiet country river. Their lifeless, empty shells were all hopeless. All forsaken. All discards of violence. The silhouette three yards away was no different. Except this wasn’t Afghanistan or Iraq. It was home.
I made ready.
No muzzle flash. No assassin’s bullet. I crept to the SUV’s rear tire, crouched low, and slithered to the front fender.
The body was a man. He lay three feet in front of the fender and precariously vulnerable beneath the spell of the SUV’s dome light. He was tall and bulky. Not fat, but strong and muscled.
No. No. God, no!
After fifteen years of silence and thousands of miles, I knew the body—the man. His hair had grayed and his face was creased with age and strain. The years had been hard on him. Years he was here while I was forever there. Always elsewhere. He’d built a life from our loss while I’d escaped—run away. He once warned me that my life’s choice would leave me as I found him now, alone and dead. The irony churned bile inside me.
Kevin Mallory.
“Kevin,” I blurted without thinking. “Kevin, it’s me. It’s Jon.”
My mouth was a desert and the familiar brew of adrenaline and danger coursed through me. In one quick move, I leaped from the SUV’s shadow, grabbed his shoulders, and tried to drag him back to safety.
No sooner had I reached him when a figure charged from the darkness toward us. His arm leveled—one, two, three shots on the run—all hitting earth nearby. I threw myself over Kevin. Another shot sent stone fragments into my cheeks and neck. The figure reached the rear of the pickup, tossed something in the bed, fired another wild shot, and retreated at a dead run.
Lightning. A brilliant flash of light, a violent percussion, then a whoosh of fire erupted from the pickup. The flames belched up and over the side panels. They spat light and heat. The truck swelled into an inferno.
The heat singed my face. I gripped Kevin’s shoulders and dragged him the remaining feet behind the SUV. He was limp and heavy. The raging fire bathed us in light, and I finally saw him clearly. His eyes were dull and vacant. His face pale—a death mask. If life was inside, it was hidden well.
The truck was engulfed in flames, and the heat was tremendous. It reached us and felt oddly comforting amidst the spring dampness and dark.
“Kevin, hold on. Hold on.” I looked for an escape.
I saw the next shot before I heard it—a flash of light where none should be—uphill near River Road. Seasoned instincts threw me atop Kevin again. Glass crackled overhead and rained down. I grabbed for the familiar weight behind my back, but my fingers closed on nothing.
Dammit.
I hastily searched him. No weapon. All I found was an empty holster where his handgun should have been. Where was it? In a desperate move, I rolled off and snaked forward beneath the truck’s firelight and groped around where he’d been. It took several long, vulnerable seconds. I dared not breathe or even look for the shooter, fearing I’d see the shot that would end me. Finally, my fingers closed on a wet, gritty semiautomatic.
As I retreated to the SUV, something moved in the darkness. I pivoted and fired two rapid shots, spacing them three feet apart.
Response. A shot dug into the gravel inches away to my left.
Rule one of mortal combat—incoming fire has the right of way.
Retreat. The flash was a hundred feet away. The shooter had withdrawn and angled south down River Road.
Should I take him? Could I?
One, two, three. Reason, Hunter, reason.
The shooter had fired at least fifteen rounds. Fourteen at me and at least one into Kevin. Had Kevin returned fire? How many rounds did his semiautomatic have left? I was on turf all but forgotten, armed with a handgun that was perhaps near-empty. The shooter must have a high-capacity magazine with plenty of ammo to cut me to pieces. He’d already proven willing and capable of killing. He knew my location. I knew nothing.
Revenge would wait.
I sat back against the SUV’s tire and pulled Kevin close, keeping one arm around him and the other holding the handgun ready. The truck fire raged but was easing. The gasoline that had been splashed over it was consumed and only the paint and rubber were burning.
Soon, though, the fire might breach the gas tank.
I pulled Kevin close and braced myself.
“Kevin, wake up. It’s me—Jon. I’m here.”
“Jon?” His eyes fluttered and half-opened. “I . . . so sorry . . . Khalifah . . . he’s . . . find G. Find G . . .” He gasped for breath. “Khalifah . . . G . . . Baltimore . . . it’s not them. Khalifah . . . so sorry . . .”
“Sorry for what? Who’s Khalifah? Did he shoot you?”
“Tomorrow . . . not them. G . . . Khalifah is . . .” His body went limp.
I shook him easily. “Kevin, I don’t understand. Tell me again.”
“Find G . . .” His eyes fluttered again, and he clutched my arm with limp, sleepy fingers. “Find . . . Hunter . . .”
“Tell me who did this.”
“G . . . Jon . . . tell no one. Maya . . . Maya . . . Maya in Baltimore . . .” He fumbled with something from his pants pocket. He gasped for breath and pressed that something into my hand. “So sorry . . .”
I opened my hand. He’d given me a small, ripped piece of heavy folded paper with handwriting scrawled on it. I couldn’t make out the writing and stuffed it into my pocket. “Kevin, what are you saying? Hold on. Dammit, hold on.”
“Go . . . please . . . not them . . . it’s not . . .” He tried to breathe but mustered only a raspy gag.
“Kevin!”
Silence.
His body shuddered. A long, shallow sigh.
No. No. No . . .
My fingers found warm, sticky ooze soaking his shirt. The rain had slowed to a faint mist and, except for the river’s passing and the grumble of fire, there was only silence. Then, somewhere along the highway miles in the distance, sirens wailed.
“Hold on, Kevin. They’re coming. My God, hold on.”
I checked his pulse and wounds. Both were draining away life.
I pressed my hands into the ooze but couldn’t force its retreat. For a few seconds, I was fourteen again. The dull sickness invaded me as my parents were lowered side by side into the earth. The ache started in my gut and swelled until I spat bile and rage.
It was happening again.
The man who raised me—the man I’d abandoned—slipped away. The emptiness and loss attacked. I had to fight or it would destroy me again. This time, there was nowhere to run.
I closed my eyes and willed the anger in, commanding it to take hold and fill me.
I remember, Kevin. I made you a promise. I’m late, but I’m here.
He was limp, and I clutched him. A rush of words filled me that I’d wanted to say for so many years. But before I could speak just one, my brother was gone.
***
Excerpt from The Consultant by Tj O’Connor. Copyright © 2018 by Tj O’Connor. Reproduced with permission from Tj O’Connor. All rights reserved.
Tj O’Connor is the author of The Consultant, the first of The Jonathan Hunter Thriller series and four paranormal mysteries.
Tj is an international security consultant specializing in anti-terrorism, investigations, and threat analysis—life experiences that drive his novels. With his former life as a government agent and years as a consultant, he has lived and worked around the world in places like Greece, Turkey, Italy, Germany, the United Kingdom, and throughout the Americas—among others. He was raised in New York’s Hudson Valley and lives with his wife and Labrador companions in Virginia where they raised five children.
Dying to Know, Tj’s first published novel, won the 2015 Gold Medal from the Independent Publishers Book Awards (IPPY) for mysteries and was a Finalist for both a 2015 Silver Falchion Award and the 2014 Foreword Reviews’ INDIEFAB Mystery Book of the Year.
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Mailbox Monday
Mailbox Monday was created by Marcia of A girl and her books and is now hosted on its own blog.
Saturday: FEARED by Lisa Scottoline ~ ARC TPB via GR win
