A Hint of Murder...And Other Mysteries

Mysterious Marilyn?

2012-03-04T15:24:00.001-08:00

“I don't want to makemoney, I just want to be wonderful.” Marilyn Monroe ended up doing both thosethings during her time in Hollywood. Though she could never know just how muchher memory would live on in the hearts of the world, Marilyn saw herself as anobject, a sex symbol, a money making machine to Hollywood. She dreamed of abetter world, one without the sadness and cruelty she grew up in. Marilyn wanted to love and be loved. “Beneaththe makeup and behind the smile I am just a girl who wishes for the world.” InHollywood and fame, she sought that love.

On August 5, 1962, Marilyn Monroe, born Norman JeaneMortenson, died at the age of thirty-six. The official cause of death was ruled“probable suicide” caused by an overdose of barbiturates. Since her death therehave been other theories about the cause and circumstances surrounding herdeath, including murder and even a conspiracy theory involving John and RobertKennedy. Rumors circulated about items being removed from her home, including adiary and note. Witnesses also claimed Marilyn was taken away by ambulance andthen returned to the home. There were those who were involved in thecase that refused to believe she was suicidal. There was talk of secret tapesfrom with Marilyn and murder suspects. This caused the Los Angeles Countydistrict attorney's office to reexamine the case in 1982. Though they found discrepanciesand unanswered questions, it wasn’t enough to launch a criminal investigation.

Almost fifty years after her death, Marilyn Monroe continuesto intrigue and entertain us. Hundreds of books and dozens of movies havechronicled everything from her life growing up to her Hollywood career to hertragic death. Now a new drama, Smash, centers around the creation of a Broadwaymusical based on the life of Marilyn Monroe. I’ve watched the first fewepisodes and the characters writing the musical are determined to show thehuman side of Marilyn, to portray who she was and what she wanted.

To me Marilyn was a lost soul looking for something: love,acceptance, happiness. And like anyone else she wanted to be treated withrespect. “I have feelings too. I am still human. All I want is to be loved, formyself and for my talent. ” Hopefully, Marilyn will be remembered not for themystery surrounding her death, but for the beauty and love she portrayed, and for the joy she so obviously wanted to spread.

A HUMAN ELEMENT (Excerpt) by Donna Galanti

2012-02-25T09:19:00.000-08:00

Ben opened his eyes and craned his head around to see what had happened. Under the bright moonlight the outline of the two big Samoans rose up from the overgrown road. They didn't move. The wind whipped the giant leaves of the banyan and guava trees about like sails on a great clipper ship. The buzz of traffic from the new Pali road carried up to him from below. He scanned the area. What had happened? Who else hid out there? He pulled at the stakes. His hands shook as he tried to break free.
"Forget it, kid, they're held down in cement," a deep voice said. "These stupid locals make up these playgrounds just to mess with us haoles."
Ben swallowed the saliva stuck in his throat and focused on his surroundings. There stood the green-eyed man, hidden in the swaying banyan trees. His black outfit blended into the dark forest. He moved toward Ben and holstered his gun, then popped open a switchblade from his back pocket.
"I am not here to hurt you," the man said when Ben shrunk into the rock. "I'm going to cut the ropes."
In a few swift movements he slit the ropes binding Ben, who staggered back. The man caught him and held him up, then ripped off the duct tape.
"Who are you?" Ben's body trembled from the rush of fear and a fierce headache pounded in his temple.
The man didn't answer. He bent over one of the dead Samoans and pulled out a wallet. He looked inside and threw it at Ben. "It's yours." Then the man led him by the arm down the overgrown road where he handed Ben his clothes from the brush. He tried to put them on but his hands shook so bad the man had to help him. He winced from the whip marks brushing against his jeans and shirt.
"Come on," the man said. Ben looked back at the dead men sprawled face down. They oozed like two fat walruses sunning themselves in the moonlight. "Don't worry about them. I'll dump them later, somewhere they'll never be found."
In a daze, Ben followed his savior up the rough road, stumbling behind him in the dim moonlight. Those men had carried him unconscious down this road.
"I'll take you back to base and you're on your own," the man said once they reached his car, parked off the main road. "Don't speak of this to anyone. Understand?"
Ben nodded and climbed in the car. He looked over at the stranger in black who had saved him. His mammoth biceps flexed as he drove, hunched over the wheel. The man's body looked crushed in the sedan. His square jaw tensed as he clenched his teeth. Ben turned to the window and closed his eyes. He had so many questions jumbled in his head. The wind blew soft on his face as they sped down the mountain curves. Giddiness rose in him from the pit of his stomach to his throat. He bent over his knees with laughter. He laughed and laughed and then he sobbed with relief. He would live. Just like when he chose to save himself from his foster father. But this time a stranger chose for him to live.
The man looked over at him, both hands gripping the wheel. "Get yourself together," he warned Ben. "I know what those bastards planned to do to you. This island is a cesspool of crap. Tropical paradise, my ass. Occasional good weather doesn't make up for the trash-filled streets, gangs, and homeless. That's what the tourists don't see."
Ben stared at him, fascinated by the man's lengthy dialogue and then a memory flickered. "You were at my foster mother's funeral. Why are you following me? Why save me?"
"I'm an interested party. Leave it at that."
"I can't. I would have died up there for sure."
The man didn't respond.
"Thank you."
The man looked at Ben. His green eyes glowed in the moonlight that filtered into the car.
"Someday you might not thank me. Someday you may not survive."
Ben didn't know what to make of his comment. He started shaking again.
"Just close your eyes and breathe slow."
Ben wanted to throw up again. He remembered being sick in the hooker's room. That seemed like days ago since all this happened. He hugged his waist and closed his eyes.
They reached town and the man whipped in and around Honolulu traffic and stopped the car near the Pearl Harbor base. "You're good from here."
"I don't even know your name. Will I ever see you again?"
The man stared straight ahead and didn't answer. Ben bent his head down and stepped out of the car.
"Tonight was a warning," the man in black said in a low, deep voice. "Make a life for yourself while you have the chance. You can't change the past."
"How do you know about me?" Ben turned back.
The man looked up at him. He squinted as if in pain. "And get out of the Navy. It's not the place for you. The government will only screw you. Get out now."
The man slammed the door shut and sped off, leaving Ben standing on the curb.
He made his way to his barracks and collapsed on his bed. His roommate was still out somewhere. Ben fell into a deep sleep but couldn't escape the night. In his nightmares the Samoans laughed as they whipped him. His foster father joined them, snapping the whip on his back and cursing him for letting him die. Murderer! Then he fell off a cliff. The wind rocked his body but didn't push him back to safety. He screamed as he fell into the darkness. He tried to grab onto something but it was a black, empty abyss. Then a bright green light appeared above him. It grew larger and larger. He shielded his eyes as he fell, terrified. The green light rushed faster and faster toward him. It came for him. It would crush him just like it crushed his parents.
And he knew he was headed straight to hell.

*****

About A HUMAN ELEMENT:
One by one, Laura Armstrong’s friends and adoptive family members are being murdered, and despite her unique healing powers, she can do nothing to stop it. The savage killer haunts her dreams, tormenting her with the promise that she is next.

Determined to find the killer, she follows her visions to the site of a crashed meteorite–her hometown. There, she meets Ben Fieldstone, who seeks answers about his parents’ death the night the meteorite struck. In a race to stop a mad man, they unravel a frightening secret that binds them together. But the killer’s desire to destroy Laura face-to-face leads to a showdown that puts Laura and Ben’s emotional relationship and Laura’s pure spirit to the test.

With the killer closing in, Laura discovers her destiny is linked to his and she has two choices–redeem him or kill him.

Readers who devour paranormal books with a smidge of horror and Watchers and Twilight Eyes by Dean Koontz will enjoy A HUMAN ELEMENT, the new novel about murder, redemption, and love.

Reviewers are saying…
“A HUMAN ELEMENT is an elegant and haunting first novel. Unrelenting, devious but full of heart. Highly recommended.” –Jonathan Maberry, New York Times best-selling author of ASSASSIN’S CODE and DEAD OF NIGHT

“A HUMAN ELEMENT is a haunting look at what it means to be human. It’s a suspenseful ride through life and love…and death, with a killer so evil you can’t help but be afraid. An excellent read.” –Janice Gable Bashman, author of WANTED UNDEAD OR ALIVE, nominated for a Bram Stoker Award.

BIO:
Donna Galanti is the author of the dark novel A Human Element (Echelon Press) and the memoir Letters from BootCamp (iUniverse). She won first place for Words on the Wall Fiction at the 2011 Philadelphia Writer’s Conference. Donna has a B.A. in English and a background in marketing. She is a member of the Greater Lehigh Valley Writers Group and Pennwriters. She lives with her family in an old farmhouse in PA with lots of nooks, fireplaces, and stinkbugs. Visit her at: www.donnagalanti.com

Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/DonnaGalanti
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Blog: http://blog.donnagalanti.com/wp/

The Shadow of Death (Parish & Richards 4) Excerpt

2012-02-18T08:32:00.000-08:00

By Tim Ellis

Monday 30^th May

‘Morning Mrs Parsons. I do believe you get lovelier every time yougrace my shop with your presence.’

‘Harry Shanks you’re arogue. You want to get yourself a nice young wife and have lots of children,instead of buttering up old folks like me.’

‘Other women are mereshadows in the brilliant light of your beauty. What’ll it be today then, MrsParsons?’

‘The liver and kidney withthe bit of heart you gave me last time was very tasty, I’ll have some more ofthat if...’

‘Unfortunately, I’ve onlygot the liver and kidney. The heart only comes in on special delivery.’

‘I’ll have a quarter poundof the liver and kidney then, Harry.’

After Mrs Parsons had leftthe shop Marty said, ‘Will the new owners keep me on, do you think?’

‘I don’t know, Marty.’

‘So, what ya gonna do?’

‘Well, the first thing I’mgonna do, is find an apprentice that speaks proper English.’

‘Ha, ha. Yeah, good luckwith that, Mr S.’

‘I fancy a change, Marty. Myheart isn’t in butchering since my old dad died. I think I’d like to trysomething different.’

‘Like what?’

‘Well, first off, I might doa bit of travelling. Go and see what butchering is like in different parts ofthe world. Do you know that they eat fried cockroaches in Vietnam.’

‘Don’t be disgusting, Mr S.’

‘You need to open your mind,Marty.’

‘Well, good luck, Mr S. Ihope you have a wicked time.’

‘Thank you, Marty... Ithink.’

***

‘Good morning,’ Chief Superintendent Abby Kirby said. ‘I know you’vebeen through a difficult time since my friend and colleague Walter Day died.However, the Chief Constable has chosen me to replace him specifically becausehe knows that I’ll respect what Walter built up, and I know there are some goodpeople here.’

‘You haven’t slept with herhave you, Kowalski?’ Parish whispered.

‘The face doesn’t ring anybells, but then there’s been so many.’

‘Yeah, good one, Ray.’

‘Am I back with you, Sir?’Richards said.

‘You won’t be if you keeptalking while she’s talking.’

‘Huh!’

After the new Chief hadintroduced herself, and told everyone she’d walk round the station during theday and meet people, she approached Parish and took him by the elbow. ‘Myoffice, Inspector.’

He followed her along thecorridor. In her high heels, she was a couple of inches shorter than hissix-foot one. Her hair was finger length, blonde with grey highlights, or theother way round. Anyway, he thought it suited her. He was also pleased that shewas thin, probably a bit too thin if he was being honest, but certainly a bigimprovement on fatty Marshall. There were crow’s feet at the corners of hereyes, and laughter lines round her mouth. He decided that he liked her, but itall depended on what she said to him in the next five minutes.

‘Take a seat, InspectorParish.’

Certainly a good start, hethought. Not only that, but she’d transformed fatty Marshall’s office back intoWalter Day’s office. The carpet and paint were still new, but they’d neededreplacing anyway. There was a new pane of glass in the door, and all thefurniture had been put back into its familiar places – he felt at home again.

‘Coffee?’

‘Please.’ Yes, he decidedthat she was as warm as the coffee.

‘And don’t put four sugarsin it when I’m watching.’

‘Okay, Chief.’

‘The Chief Constable hastold me all about you and Constable Richards.’

He smiled like a used carsalesman. ‘All good I hope?’

‘What do you think?’

‘I think you like mealready.’

She put the coffee down infront of him.

‘Thank you.’ He put twosugars in the cup, and then when she turned to get her own coffee, he slippedanother two in.

She sat down opposite himand smiled. ‘Here’s how it’s going to go, Inspector Parish. I’ll returneverything to normal – if normal is the right word to use around you – but youhave to promise not to make me look like an idiot before I retire.’

He took a swallow of hiscoffee. ‘I think I can promise that, Chief.’

‘Good, then I think we canwork together.’

***

‘What did she say, Sir?’

‘She said you can work withme again.’

Richards jumped up andhugged him. ‘How great is that?’

‘But... there were a numberof conditions.’

‘Oh?’

‘She said you have to go tocounselling without fail...’

‘Okay.’

‘That you have to help mewith the YCAP education and training initiative...’

‘Okay.’

‘That you have to stopannoying me, believe everything I say, and make me a coffee any time I ask.’

Richards laughed. ‘I bet shedidn’t even mention me.’

‘She did so, Richards. Shewanted to know why – when I could have my pick of wonderful partners – I workedwith someone who was a pain in the arse and disobeyed orders at the drop of ahat.’

‘And what did you tell her?’

‘I told her that you were mykind of pain in the arse, Richards.’

‘I love you as well, Sir.’

‘I know you do. Right,coffee first, and then we’ll get down to some serious work.’

***

Angkor,Cambodia

‘You’re a genius, Harry,’ Adrian said.

They had visited Angkor Watearlier, not that they hadn’t seen it before a dozen times because they had,but the one thing that King Suryavarman II’s temple had in abundance wastourists – young female tourists especially. In fact, one of those tourists – atwenty-five-year-old American woman by the name of Lia Fairchild – lay nakedand strapped to the Mortuary table he’d acquired from a strange Cambodiandealer with a hair lip and a glass eye.

She opened her mouth toscream.

‘You can scream as much asyou want to because no one will hear you, but you should know that noise makesme angry, and when I get angry I will want to hurt you.’

She closed her mouth.

He ran his hands over herflat stomach, squeezed her breasts, and then bent down and kissed her lips.‘That’s a good girl, I think we’re going to have a beautiful relationship.’ Hebegan to chant:

Yea, though I walk throughthe valley of the shadow of death, I will fearno evil...

Adrian walked to the otherroom and switched on the monitor. He sat in the executive leather chair andtook out his bishop, which was nearly as hard as it could be. ‘Yes, do hergood, Harry,’ he said. ‘Do her good.’

***

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Into Thin Air (Excerpt) by Valerie Maarten

2012-02-11T07:09:00.000-08:00

(Freedom Fighters Series Bk. 1)

“Cute kid,” Paolo said as he watched Maia clutch the small childprotectively to her bosom.

“What do you want?” Maia asked.

Paolo’s eyebrow went up fractionally at Maia’s tone. But it was followed by a slow smile thatbelied the anger he felt at her continued refusal to submit to hisauthority. It was a little game theyplayed when they were together. Deepdown Paolo admired her courage. Shereminded him of himself when he was younger. She would have made a great partner if he’d have met her under differentcircumstances.

He waved his hand in a sweeping motion, gesturing for her to have a seat,as if they were having a social chit-chat over lunch. “Please…sit.”

Maia took a quick glance over at the chair he offered and shook herhead. “No thank you. I’ll stand.”

Never releasing his pleasant smile, his tone changed and became moreinsistent. It was a tone Maia could notmistake that she didn’t have a choice. “Sit…I insist.”

Maia sat in the chair, but remained at the edge of the seat as shecradled a now, fully awake India in her lap. India seemed to be oblivious to the danger they were in and beganplaying with Maia’s hair. Maia didn’tseem to notice or mind, glad India did something to occupy her time instead ofcry. Because at this moment, Maia neededto keep her wits about her and remain vigilant and alert for what Paolo hadplanned for them both.

“Okay…I’m sitting. Now, are yougoing to tell me why I was dragged out of my bed in the middle of the night?”Maia knew she was pushing her luck, but she felt she had nothing else tolose. This very scene had been playedout for her six years ago, only it was Gina sitting in this chair and she was standingnext to her, oblivious to what was transpiring.

“Good news,” Paolo said to Gina asshe sat nervously in the chair waiting for him to reveal why he’d summoned herand Maia to come to his office in the middle of the night.

“Wh…what?” Gina asked nervously.

Maia noted the quiver in Gina’s voice,but she didn’t understand the cause. Good news could mean they would finally be allowed to go home. Maia had prayed for this moment. She and Gina had discussed leaving this placefor good.

“You finally get what you’ve beggedfor…with one caveat,” Paolo said.

His tone was pleasant and he wassmiling at Gina…then he’d smile at Maia. The gesture was so kind, Maia smiled back. Inside Maia felt her stomach flutter withbutterflies, she was so nervous at the prospect of going home. Would her mother still be angry that shedisobeyed her? Maia vowed she would never do it again. This taught her one thing, her mother wasn’tas lame as she believed her to be.

“What caveat?” Gina asked. She looked over at an anxious Maia and gaveher a tentative smile. It was meant toreassure Maia, but that one gesture changed everything Maia had been feelinginside. There was something revealing inher eyes that told Maia she was not going home and the news was not good.

“Before I allow you to retire, youhave to teach her some of the tricks of the trade,” Paolo said as he nodded hishead in Maia’s direction.

“No…no. I can’t. Please…don’t ask me to do that,” Gina began to plead. “She’s too young.”

“She’s got breasts, granted they’resmall, but she’ll do for some of my more…eccentric clientele,” Paolo said.

Maia didn’t know what they weretalking about, but she knew she had been insulted. Subconsciously Maia looked down at her newlybudding breasts and folded her arms over her chest. Another thing she knew, she didn’t like beingtalked about when she was fully capable of deciding if she wanted to dosomething or not.

“What tricks?” Maia askedinnocently.

Gina placed her hand on Maia’s leg,silencing anything else Maia would have said. It was much like a mother would have done to a child that spoke out ofturn when adults were talking.

Gina stood from the chair and heldMaia’s hand tightly. “I can’t doit. I won’t do it.”

Paolo’s black eyes seemed to darkenwith Gina’s declaration. It was an evilMaia had never seen before this moment. Up until this point, Paolo had been fairly nice to her, though hecontinued to refuse her requests to be allowed to go home. Still, to this point she had no reason tofear him until she saw that brief glimpse into the blackness inside his soulthrough his eyes.

Paolo gave his head a briefnod. That was the first time Maianoticed the two men standing at the door behind them. She didn’t know how long they had been there,but she couldn’t remember hearing them come in, so she surmised they had beenthere all along. Funny, they were ashuge as buildings, but managed to disappear into the background until they weresummoned. Maia watched as the one manwalked up to the desk…pulled out his gun and pointed it at the back of Gina’shead.

One shot was fired behind her earand she dropped to the ground, still clutching Maia’s hand. The warm spray of blood splattered across theroom, covering the left side of Maia’s hair, face and shirt. But the shock of seeing Gina lay in a pool ofblood prevented Maia from screaming or crying or running out of the room.

Instead, she watched as Gina’s babyblue eyes darkened as death slowly began to claim her. Her chest heaved up…then down…then in asudden whoosh of air it stopped. In thatmoment, Maia remembered she was still gripping Gina’s hand, secretly willingthe life back into the one person who cared for her from the moment she arrivedto this side of hell. Now Maia was allalone, abandoned to figure her way through the new life she was doomed to live.

“Take her to my room,” Paoloordered the other man who stood in the corner. “Make sure she’s ready for me when I get there. I’ll just have to show her the tricks sheneeds to know myself.”

“You know my answer to your question,” Maia said to Paolo as he replayedthe single, most devastating time of her life. Now the tables were turned and she would be shot in the back of the headlike Gina had been six years ago, while India is prepared by one of the guardsto unceremoniously lose her virginity to a tyrant and a brutal childrapist…Paolo.

The memory prompted Maia to stand. She no longer felt comfortable sitting. She felt too vulnerable and at a disadvantage. Would she wait for the moment to happen andfade into oblivion as Gina had done or would she defy death and fight? I wantto live Maia heard the little voice inside her head say. Fight!

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Running With Choas (Excerpt) by Elicia Clegg

2012-01-29T10:02:00.000-08:00

The organic reality of the situation wasgrim. Sam was back more than threeyears. The concept of times collidingmade her head spin and gave her a sinking feeling in her stomach which gurgledand clenched in pain. She popped herneck and spun around to find another campsite. Anyone at all would be better than a familyshe should not meet for another three years. She was an unruffled individual, taking all this in stride, yet deepinside she felt herself slipping up abit. She rationalized a great need tocontact someone soon, get some kind of help, and learn the truth of thesituation.

Shewas however, at a loss, she did not know whom she should contact. Her eyes shifted up and to the left as sheturned and spied a different group of people in another camping site. The campgrounds as a whole had many differentand very private campsites blocked by large trees sprouting out from theground, creating circles and natural enclosures. It was secure enough to get help withoutErin seeing or hearing, thus keeping their meeting safely intact for thefuture.

She approached cautiously,eager for help. “Hi, hey, my friends playeda cruel joke on me; do you care if I borrow your cell so I can call mymom?” She asked in the nicest of tones.

“Areyou sure it was your friend’s darling?” One woman said as another man stood up and threw his phone at hersaying, “Sure thing kid.”

Sam smiled, wanting to keep upthe ruse she replied, “Not after today, and thank you sir, I appreciate it, Iam going to call my mom real quick.”

Shecaught the cellphone with her left hand while she moved to the right. She blinked; her eyes had caught hold ofErin’s in the distance. Sam turned herhead, not wanting to cause any more rifts; she could not have Erin recognizeher in three years from now. She openedthe cellphone to dial the first number coming to mind; which was Chaos’s. She cursed at herself, though he wasn’t herleast favorite person, he surely wasn’t her favorite. She went to press the buttons. Frustration rose up; the phone must have notbeen one she had seen before because there were no buttons.

“Umm,how do I dial out?”

“Youokay honey?”

“Yes I’m fine.”

“You dial like any otherphone.” The lady said as the others slightly laughed.

She felt herself cracking more on the inside,crying was not far off. She looked up atthem, perplexed by the phone when she noticed they were all slowly beginning tofade from sight. Isolation surroundedher; everything in sight was fading away. Everything was becoming more and more blurry, all evaporating right beforeher. Her brain began to ruminate, thegears kicking in, and all at once she knew it wasn’t they who were fading intothe backdrop of nothingness, it was her who would soon be no more. She dropped the phone, her hands disappearingmore rapidly; her world began to go black.

She went to let out a scream,but could not as her mouth began filling and became inundated with pondwater. Her eyes jutted open, tinybubbles of air surrounded her. Her hairflowed softly in front of her and fanned out like a wave of ocean mistcolliding with the rocks. She flailedher arms, kicking with all her might as she burst out of the water, gasping andcoughing for air. It wasn’t the samekind of confusion as before, yet she was shaken all the same. She was right back where she had begun. She quickly twisted her body, kicking herselfaround until she could see the old rope swing. She gazed, her eyes squinting to block the sun, seeing the same boy whohad jumped before was in the water, and was occupied with another friend, theywere cheering on yet another boy who stood shakily on the top platform. She took a moment, her mind took a step back;she smiled at herself, the wisdom coming slowly, the puzzle pieces comingtogether.

‘”Itwould seem dear Sam time has moved forward, but you have not, wonderful.” She said to fish which swam in and aroundher, she gazed longingly at each of them, they would never have to put up withsomething like this.

***

Elicia Clegg, who was born in the small town ofSpanish Fork Utah, affectionately known as happy-valley, moved, at age four, toOgden Utah; a town riddled with a dark past of opium dens, brothels, andbusiness with underground tunnels constructed for criminals’ and prostitutes toescape police raids. Not only wasElicia’s environment surrounded in historical intrigue her family has longwhispered about a Curse as many havedied in strange events. To name but a few: her grandfather was thrown off abuilding in New York City, her great-grandfather “fell” off the historicRadisson in Ogden, her father was shot in the head, her brother died in a workexplosion, her great-uncle had a truck load of lumber crush him to death, hermaternal great-grandfather was hit by car and died, a cousin who served twotours in Vietnam died on route home from his heart bursting, her maternalgreat-great-grandfather disappeared without a trace, and her grandmother, whilevolunteering, was stabbed to death at the State Mental Health Institute.

It is no wonder she grew up with an overactive imagination and soon released her first psychologically-thrillingsuspense novel Vexation in March 2010, which has been followed up by three moretitles. Find out more information byvisiting her website: www.EliciaClegg.com

Indian Summer (Excerpt) by Dellani Oakes

2012-01-23T16:43:00.000-08:00

Indian Summer by Dellani Oakes is an historical adventure/ romance/ mystery set in St. Augustine FL in 1739. The main character is Gabriella Deza, the daughter of the Spanish governor. Her fiance, Manuel Enriques, works for her father as his confidential aid. James Stevens, the town doctor, is a British spy. This excerpt is taken from slightly past halfway through the book. James has arranged an attack on the town & fort (Castillo de San Marcos). Manuel has set a trap to catch James in the act.

EXCERPT
There was a nagging feeling of dread rising in my mind. I felt hot then cold all over as if I were taking sick again. I had the feeling that Manuel needed me, something was horribly, terribly wrong. I couldn't suppress it, for it seared my soul. My dreams nagged my thoughts, causing shivers of dread down my spine.

Without saying a word to anyone, I wended my way as quickly and quietly to the door as I could. It was hardly more than three minutes after Manuel left, and yet he was nowhere in sight. He must have taken his buggy. Having no such vehicle available to me, I ran to the fortress with as much speed as I could muster. I was grateful to Grand-mère for the dress as it provided more mobility than any of my other outfits would have.

The hair rose on my arms as if I were cold, my breath came in shuddering gasps and yet I ran until I thought my lungs would burst. It was then I saw it, a flicker, a flame and suddenly the entire southeast bastion of the fort seemed to be on fire!

Silhouetted against it, I saw a man. My dream came rushing back of an instant and I knew it to be James the spy! I couldn't contain my anger. It drove me onward, compelling me to be hasty, chiding my slowness. Anger burned within me, hot and fierce as the signal fire before me, filling me with a fury driving away my fear.

I finally reached the gate, passing the ladies and the buggy without fully noticing. I saw no sign of Manuel, James or anyone else. In fact, the postern gate was open and unguarded, just as in my dream! I stifled the shriek I felt rising in my throat. Fear gripped me, cold unreasoning fear. Dread of ghosts of dead soldiers floated through my mind, making me shiver again.

For the first time in my life, I didn't know what to do. I couldn't think or make any decision. I stood there stupidly, gaping at the sight in front of me, riveted to the spot. That was my undoing. Stealthily out of the shadows, James was upon me. He grabbed me in his strong arms, holding me to him, using me as a shield, a gun pointed at my head!

An involuntary scream ripped from my throat! James chided me, goaded me on, pulling my hair, waving the gun before me!

"Go ahead and scream, lass. Scream for all you're worth! It will bring him to me. I've waited, plotted, planned for this moment. Before the sun rises, he'll be dead and you, my lass, you will be mine!"

He planted a rough, brutal kiss on my cheek, nipping my ear, causing me to scream again. I writhed away from him, but he held me fast. He shifted his hold upon me, crushing me against his pelvis. I could feel the lust in him. It disgusted and terrified me. He seemed to feed off my fear, growing more bold.

"That's it, that's it! He'll be here any minute that upstart Spanish bastard!"

He was turning around from side to side, holding me in front of him, pulling my hair to keep me on my feet, for I was near to fainting. A shadow moved stealthily toward us. I hoped James had not seen. Perhaps I only hoped so much that it was Manuel, I imagined it. But no, I heard a pistol being cocked and knew James heard it to. From our left, Manuel emerged quietly from the shadows, pistol in hand.

The light from the signal fire threw wavering shadows and highlights over his face, making him look demonic, his handsome face contorted into an unyielding mask of cold rage and hatred. His hand was steady, pointing the gun at James, who tried in vain to keep me in front of him. Manuel lifted his chin standing still.

"Let her go, James, or I shall drop you where you stand."

"If you shoot me, she's dead." He put the gun up against my head.

"Don't be so sure of that, Doctor."

I could hear panic rising in James' voice. His breath coming in fast gulps, hot on my neck. "Drop your gun. I'll let her go if you drop your gun!"

"Do you take me for a complete fool? You drop your gun and I'll give you a head start to the gate to run like the cowardly cur you are. Stand away from her now."

James' hand holding the weapon was beginning to falter. I summoned all my resolve and slammed my elbow into his ribs, stamped on his foot and hit him in his private parts as hard as I could with both my fists together.

He gasped for breath, falling to the ground, dropping his gun. Manuel kept him covered while I jumped out of reach. All I could think of was getting away, returning to the safety of my home, of Manuel's arms. I was in a panic, terrified! Then I saw the man behind Manuel, musket raised like a club, the sailor who had met James.

Manuel couldn't get a shot off in time, but caught the blow of the musket with his pistol stock, forcing the man away from him. They grappled for what seemed hours, but was only a few seconds. Unfortunately, neither of us watched James. He lunged for his pistol, grabbing it before I could warn Manuel. I could do nothing to stop him. I was too far away. I tried to scream, to alert Manuel in some way, but the sound caught in my throat.

Manuel and the sailor turned just as James raised his gun to shoot. James' shot caught the other man in the back, the bullet slamming through him as if he were jelly. The echo in the stone courtyard was deafening. Then they fell!

“Manuel! Dear God, he's been shot!" I screamed to no one.

The other fellow was dead, but Manuel was still moving. I ran to be by his side, but James grabbed my hair again and dragged me away! The last I saw, Manuel was lying in a pool of blood, his life draining from him and I could do nothing!

***

For more info on books from Dellani Oaks visit:

http://dellanioakes.wordpress.com/

http://writersanctuary.blogspot.com/

http://dellanischoice.wordpress.com/

FREE For a Limited Time: A Hint of Murder

2012-01-17T13:27:00.000-08:00

A Hint of Murder: The Anthology is currently free though Amazon Prime. It compiles all three A Hint of Murder stories in one book:

A Hint of Murder: The Writer

Alicia Fairfield didn’t plan on being famous. Now a bestselling author with millions of fans, Alicia also has the attention of a killer. Someone has been recreating the murders from her books and the suspects are piling up; her mentally ill son, a disgruntled associate, and possibly even her loyal literary agent. The pressure of public recognition along with the guilt over these senseless killings could be enough to drive Alicia over the edge. Can she hold it together long enough to uncover a killer? (Story length 9,000 words)

A Hint of Murder: The Doctor

Russell Morgan had it all; good looks, the perfect woman and a rewarding career as a well-respected physician. When the doctor’s patients start turning up dead, his world comes crashing down. Second in the “A Hint of Murder” series, this short story brings Detective John Lewis back in action to track down the killer. (Story length: 12,000 words)

A Hint of Murder: The Bouncer

Bobby Crane was tired of being a bouncer and a glorified errand boy. He longed to be a professional singer and was just about to get his big break. Then Allen Schaffer is found murdered and Bobby’s car was spotted at the victim’s home. Third in the A Hint of Murder series, this story has detective John Lewis returning with a new partner to uncover a murderer. (Story length: 10,400 words)

* You'll also get a bonus mystery and samples from other great thriller and mystery writers.

What people are saying:

"There is a skill in writing a good short story. Every word has to count, and there is only a short time with which to engage the reader and make the characters come to life. Lia Fairchild is one writer that does this with charm and wit. Her characters come alive quickly, and the plot-lines race along with a pace that is just right."

"This collection of short stories was riveting! Made me hate to stop reading once it was over. I loved the untypical killers. I love the vivid descriptions and detailed writing; it makes you feel as if you are watching a movie as opposed to reading a book. I would definitely recommend to others!"

The Anthology is available on
Amazon US http://ow.ly/7xiI7
Amazon UK http://ow.ly/7xiKW

Madness and Murder (an Excerpt) by Jenny Hilborne

2012-01-13T06:45:00.000-08:00

Withthe body count at five, and the blade marks left on the latest victimdetermined to be have been made by an eight-inch blade, Mac Jackson had littledoubt in his mind that they had all died at the hands of the same killer.Another serial killer on the streets of San Francisco, but this one left nocryptic clues or taunting letters, made no demands to the police or the generalpublic. He didn't appear to want attention or recognition. Jackson suspected hehad a particular grudge, or some type of personal vendetta, only he hadn't beenable to figure out what.

Exhaustedfrom working through the night–even with a little extra civilian help to whichhe'd consented–he rubbed at his eyes, and took a slurp of coffee that hadalready turned cold. He'd been making notes and sifting through the scantevidence left behind since the young woman's body had been found by a lonesomejogger, during the early hours of Tuesday morning. What the hell is yourmotive? He set the mug down, sighed, and looked at the photo of thedeceased. If he'd been called to the scene half an hour sooner, he might havebeen able to ask the killer that question. Her body had still been warm.

"Shewas just a kid," he said to Red. "Twenty-four. Only two years olderthan Bryce."

Redshook his head, no more enlightened than Jackson. "I know. There's nopattern. He butchers men, women, old, young, but never rapes them or robs them.What's the motive? What the hell does this bastard want?"

"Iwish I knew," Jackson said, grimacing at another mouthful of cold coffee,"but one thing's becoming clear; he's getting careless or cocky. Thirtyminutes sooner and we'd have had him."

"Doubtit. That was deliberate, Jackson. The bastard knows what he's doing. He doesn'twant to get caught until he's ready."

"Well,so far he doesn't have to worry about that. We've got extra cops patrolling thestreets, and he still manages to leave us a warm, dead body and no witnesses.There's something we're missing." He pressed his hands and finger-tipstogether, hooked his thumbs under his weary chin, and closed his eyes, tryingto get inside a killer's head.

"Thisis his arena, man, his stage," Red said. "He's killing right underour noses like there's not a damn thing we can do about it. And the warmbody?…he's performing. That's arrogance."

"Oranger." Jackson opened his eyes. "Or maybe he's bored."

"He'snot bored," Red said, shaking his head. He strode around his desk to siton the front edge of it, facing Jackson. "He thinks he's superior. Hestays one step ahead, but barely, he leaves virtually no clues, and he seems tomurder at random."

"Andalways in a busy location." Jackson drummed his long fingers impatientlyon his desk. "Why do you think he makes no effort to conceal thebodies?"

"Hewants them to be found. He wants us to know he's killed again, and we've failedagain."

"Failed?"

"Toprotect the city. To do our jobs. He's not just satisfying some sick thrill,you know, he's making fools of all of us, of law enforcement."

"So,maybe that's his message. There's a reason for the killings, I'm sure of that,but the real anger is against the law. And he wants us to figure out why."

"I'mgoing out on a limb here," Red said. "Call it one of your hunches,but I'd say he's never done time. He's not going to be in the database."

"Whatmakes you say that?" Jackson looked at his partner with interest.

"Somethingtells me he hasn't reached his zenith. He's leading up to something, and untilwe figure out what it is, he's not going to get caught. He wants to get caught,but not just yet, not until he's ready. And another thing…I don't believe hekills at random. He picks his victims."

Jacksonnodded, thinking, pinched the bridge of his nose while he contemplated. Finallyhe looked back at Red, still perched on the edge of his desk and looking asbeat as Jackson felt.

"Youknow," he began, "I can't stop thinking about the tongue. He'dalready slit her throat, so she'd have been dead already, bled out, so why cutit out? And why didn't we find it?"

Athorough search of the area where the body had been found had not turned up themissing muscle.

"I'dsay she pissed him off," Red suggested. "Maybe she said something hedidn't like."

"Youthink he knew her?"

Redshrugged. "Maybe, probably not. But I'd say he'd been in close proximitythe night he killed her, maybe listening to her conversation."

Jacksonpicked up the report on his desk and reread the notes about the young woman'slast night. "She'd been out with friends," he read aloud,"celebrating a promotion, according to her friends." He searchedRed's face. "They work in finance."

"Jealousy?"Red suggested.

"Possible.Except her friends state they were all doing well."

"Yeah,well maybe one of them thought she wasn't deserving, thought she got promotedout of turn. She was considerably younger. They were in their forties. Hell,I'd probably be pissed if I got overtaken by a kid in her twenties."

"Butif they're all hot shots, I'd say it's unlikely," Jackson said."Anyway, they all checked out. They all left together, without her, andwent straight home. She'd had too much to drink, apparently wanted to walk itoff."

"Somefriends."

Jacksonshrugged. "It happens. None of the other diners remember anyonesuspicious. Nothing we could use."

"Whatabout credit cards?"

Jacksonshook his head. "Slow night, only a few transactions and they checkedout."

"Sohe paid cash."

"Maybe.No one remembers a lone diner. No one paid her group any attention."

"Well,someone did." Red pursed his lips, removed his legs from the desk, andwalked round to the other side to sit down. "If the guy was there, helooked like a regular. He fitted in. No one noticed him."

"Anda regular guy can fly under the radar, mingle easily. That's how he doesit." Jackson slapped a hand down on his desk. "We're looking forsomeone who fits into society. Someone with a job, maybe even a few friends. Onthe one hand he kills, has an aversion to the law, but he also lives a part ofhis life normally, like everyone else."

"Couldhave been someone she worked with. One of the group. Or a schizophrenic."

"Nota schizophrenic. I don't believe there's any distortion of reality for thisguy. I believe he knows exactly what he's doing."

Rednodded. "You're right about him being local."

Jacksonpulled up a fresh sheet in his notepad and began to scribble. "Here's whatwe've got," he said to Red, "I think he's a white male, probably latetwenties to early thirties, strong, agile, social to an extent but really aloner."

"Family?"

"Littleor none."

"Thinkhe killed 'em?"

"Hisfamily? No. If he's local we'd have gotten something on that. He's from thisarea, so they're either dead already, or they've moved away."

"Whyd'you think that?"

"Hunch.Plus, he can go about his business more easily with no one keeping tabs on hishours, his comings and goings. My gut tells me this guy is a loner, not one ofher group."

"Goodenough for me." Red yawned behind his hand, and rubbed his eyes, ran ahand through his hair, and stretched in his seat. "I'm beat." Helaced his fingers together behind his head and leaned back, putting his feet upon his desk. "Still think it's a thrill killer?"

Jacksonsighed. "I don't know. Yes…and no. There's an underlying motive, but he'sa sadistic bastard. He enjoys the violence."

"Thetongue?"

"That,the genitals, and the fact he mutilates them after they're dead. The two backin ninety-five…I believe it's the same guy." He locked eyes with Red, sawhis furrowed brow, and could almost hear the cogs turning in his partners head."What is it?"

"Thefact her body was still warm."

"Whatabout it?"

Redunlaced his fingers, removed his feet from his desk, and leaned forward in hisseat, his face taut with concentration. "The jogger found her atfour-thirty, Tuesday morning."

"Right."Jackson watched his expression with interest.

"Ifhe'd been inside the restaurant and followed her out, killing her on her wayhome, her body would have been cold by the time the jogger found her. We knowthe jogger didn't do it because he'd only left the house ten minutes earlier,confirmed by his wife, and he had no blood on his clothes."

"Ok."They'd been through this already, but Jackson didn't mind going over it again.Maybe they'd missed something the first time.

"Weknow she'd been dead for only about thirty minutes, so, if time of death was fourin the morning, we've got six hours to account for from the time she left therestaurant to when she died."

"Well,we know she went for a walk, she was drunk, and she was alone. Maybe she fellasleep somewhere, and maybe he didn't follow her. He might not have been in thebar at all; no one remembers a lone guy, so maybe it was purely random and hestumbled upon her sleeping it off."

"It'spossible," Red said, "but it doesn't fit with the tongue. That kindof violence had to be provoked. It wasn't random. She said something to pisshim off. He was in that bar, and he followed her out. Know what I think?"He didn't wait to be asked. "I think he tortured her for a while."

Jacksonsighed. "No marks on her body to suggest it, no ligature on her wrists or feet."

"Mentaltorture. I think she felt comfortable with him, trusted him. She went with himwillingly."

"Shewas drunk," Jackson reminded him, a headache beginning to kick around atthe back of his eyeballs. "She wouldn't have had the same fear she mighthave had sober."

"That'strue, too, but…if he was mad enough to hack off her tongue, he wouldn't wastesix hours idly chatting. Somehow, he gained her trust before he killed her, andhe took six hours to do it. There's a reason for that, and I want to know whatit is."

Jacksonscratched his head. "We've been over this. I don't know."

"Jackson,"Red shot him a dry look, "you're the master of hunches, and maybe it'srubbing off. My hunch: he's testing himself."

"Red."Jackson stared at him in astonishment, his headache suddenly vanishing."That's it. You're brilliant." He punched the air.

"Whatdid I do?" Red stared back in surprise.

"Youhit the nail on the head, that's what you did." Jackson smacked his handstogether triumphantly. "He is testing himself, not us." He laughedout loud. "Why didn't I see it before?"

"Seewhat?"

Jacksongrinned at Red's puzzled expression. "You see how the murders have beenescalating? Both in frequency and violence?" He didn't wait for Red tocomment. "I figured he's been working his way up to something." Hepulled open the file on his desk with the old notes from the earlier murders."The ones in ninety-five…those were homeless, nobodies…their bodies coulddrift about for days, months, and no one would miss them. He was warming up,getting a taste for murder. He didn't care if anyone found them."

"Andthese latest ones?"

"Thesevictims have families. He knew they'd be missed. He wanted them to be found. Hewanted to know he could walk into a crowded area, somewhere like the Embarcadero,choose a victim, and kill them without getting caught, and then watch how thecase unraveled. See what he could learn from the moves made by police."

"Ifwe don't believe the victims were chosen at random," Red said, Jackson'ssudden enthusiasm rubbing off on him, "then there's a common link,something that makes him snap, something that ties them all together."

"Yes."Jackson smacked his desk again. "We need to find that link." Hegrinned across at Red. "We're finally making progress."

Redseemed to be on a roll. "And if the victims were chosen by something theysaid or did, he upped the stakes each time, increased the violence, let us getcloser. He tested himself to see how far he could go before we start closingin."

"Andthat tells me something else. Red, when he abducts his final victim, he's goingto do it in a public place. He's been training for it, building up to it. He'sgoing to try to snatch him or her from right under our noses."

"Thinkhe's following the reports on the news?"

"Idon't doubt it. The vicious bastard has enjoyed destroying thosefamilies."

"That'sit." Red leapt from his chair, wide-eyed and without a trace ofexhaustion.

"What?"Startled, Jackson stared at him as if he'd gone mad.

"Jackson,you're fucking brilliant." Red grinned.

"Pissoff, Dennis."

"Don'tyou get it?" Red flicked a paperclip that hit Jackson on the nose."You just figured out the motive."

***

Madnessand Murder is Jenny Hilborne’s first novel, set in San Francisco. Her secondsuspense novel, No Alibi, is also set in San Francisco, featuring homicideinspector, John Doucette; an experienced inspector plagued by personal betrayal.Jenny is working on her third and fourth mysteries; the fourth being a breakfrom the norm and set in England.

E-Force by James D. Kellogg

2012-01-06T09:58:00.000-08:00

E-Force (Excerpt fromChapter Five)

Tempers were flaring at the manager’smeeting. Colt was certain that the Salem Witch Trials couldn’t have been morechilling. With the suddenness of an ocean squall, the forum had degeneratedinto a hostile volley of accusations and defenses. The handwriting on the wallwas plain for Colt to see. The days of EcoFriends were numbered.

A female manager turned on the other fivewomen. “I’m not paying the price for the bitch that ratted on us! Everybodyknows I’ve put my heart and soul into this organization.”

“You’d sell us out in a heartbeat if youcould profit!”One fiery vixen charged at the haughty accuser. “How much is theFBI paying you?”

“That’s right. Fight it out!” A man pumpedhis fist.

“Let’s make them all take polygraphtests.” One board member stepped between the two potential combatants.

“There’re better ways to get a confessionthan that,” another person said.

“Enough of this!” Howard Anderson finallytook control. “We’re tearing ourselves apart because of one traitor. If we’regoing to survive, we’ve got to stick together. The truth is going to come out.Whoever is guilty has one last chance for redemption. I’ll give you until theend of the week to come to me and confess. Then we’ll figure out how to makethings right again.”

Adjournment was an armistice in anescalating war. At the reprieve, people scattered. Colt looked for Deb, but shewas gone. The air in the building seemed poisoned. He hurried outside where hecould breathe.

“Damned horde of barbarians,” Coltmuttered on the sidewalk, shaking his head with disgust for the behavior hiscolleagues had exhibited. The organization was supposedly founded on trust andloyalty, yet every leader was bent on crucifying one of their own.

Andersonhas lost his mind. Colt stormed toward the street. It was insane to prop upthe terrorist group E-Force as a means to stabilize EcoFriends. It’s like skydiving without a parachute soyou didn’t risk getting tangled in the lines. Everybody’s following him intothe sea like a bunch of damned lemmings.

Without a doubt, Colt regretted hisinvolvement with EcoFriends. Foolishly, he’d been a complacent passenger in hislife and work. It was time to move behind the wheel and take command.EcoFriends was going to be part of the past, not the future.

“Colt, wait for me!” a familiar voice said.

Colt turned to see Deb dart across thestreet. A car braked to avoid running her down. She drew alongside Colt,ignoring the blaring horn as the vehicle resumed course.

“You almost got killed!” Colt was alarmedby Deb’s reckless action.

“What does it matter?”

“I don’t understand why you would askthat.” Colt evaluated his friend’s pale sickly appearance. “What’s going on?Where’ve you been?”

“Vomiting in the restroom.” Deb’s voicewavered. “We need to have that talk.”

“Let’s get away from the street.” Coltgrabbed her by the arm. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

The pair didn’t speak during the brisktrip to a parking lot at the end of the block. When they reached Deb’s vehicle,she couldn’t contain herself any longer.

“Colt, can I trust you to keep a secret?”Deb asked in a hushed tone.

“Of course you can trust me,” Colt said,frowning. “What’s going on Deb?”

“I’m the one who went to the FBI. I toldthem about the money laundering.”

“So it was you.” Colt’s pulse quickened.“Holy shit. The meeting must have been a nightmare for you.”

“I can’t believe what’s happening.” Tearswelled up in Deb’s eyes. “When I called from a payphone, the FBI agent promisedmy statements were confidential. I don’t know how Anderson found out. Colt, I’mscared.”

“It’s going to be okay.” Colt dabbed atear from her cheek. “Nobody can pin the leak on you.”

“There’s more to the story.” Deb’s eyeswere hollow. “All the dirty money went to E-Force.”

Colt’s heart skipped a beat at theassertion. Deb had uncovered the truth. Months ago, Colt had discovered thattens of thousands were going to E-Force. But he had done nothing. Like a fool,he continued to divert funds from his chapter, knowing the money was beinglaundered and funneled to E-Force.

“Is that what you told the Feds?” Coltsputtered. “How do you even know that?”

“I overheard a conversation betweenAnderson and Cain. And, yes, I told the FBI!”

“Deb, keep your voice down.” Colt cast anervous glance around. “Maybe we should talk inside your car.”

“I haven’t told you the worst part,” Deb saidafter they were seated in the vehicle with the doors shut. “I’m not sure if Ishould.”

“What could be worse?” Colt felt as if hewas about to be sentenced by a judge.

“Zed Cain is part of E-Force.” Deb wastrembling. “If he finds out I know the truth, he’ll do something terrible.Colt, I don’t know what to do.”

“Just calm down.” A shiver rippled throughColt’s body. “This is bad, but I won’t let anyone hurt you. Did you tell theFBI about Cain?”

“Not yet.” Deb was obviously struggling toretain her composure. “But I’m going to. It’s the only way to stop thesecrimes.”

“But you don’t know who tipped offAnderson.” A light bulb went off in Colt’s head. “Maybe he’s got somebody insidethe FBI.”

Deb shook her head with doubt. “We’retalking about Howard Anderson, not some foreign government.”

“Then how did he find out?” Colt’s uneasewas growing. “That’s a serious question, and we’ve got to find an answer.”

“Once Cain and Anderson are behind bars,it won’t matter. Then I’ll be safe.”

“It’s not going to be that simple.” Coltgripped Deb’s shoulder and looked her in the eye. “Something’s not right. There’sa hidden trap waiting to snare anyone who decides to be a hero.”

“Then what am I supposed to do?” Deb thumpeda fist against the steering wheel. Another tear rolled down her cheek.

Colt suddenly felt conspicuous. “I don’tknow yet, but we need to continue this conversation at a different time andplace.”

“Okay, you’re right.” Deb nodded andreached for a tissue. “I’ll call you when I get back to Boise.”

They hugged for a few seconds before Coltstepped out onto the pavement. Deb ventured a weak smile and waved goodbye.Feeling lost and lonely, Colt looked after her car until it was swallowed inthe traffic.

With eyes cast downward, Colt turned andwalked away. Before he traveled twenty paces, a shadow crossed his path. Coltlooked up to find Zed Cain standing in front of him. The man’s tall figure wasimposing. With long black hair, he resembled a fierce Comanche warrior fromdays of old. Colt stopped dead in his tracks.

“Are you lost?” Cain asked without anember of warmth.

A chill went down Colt’s spine. Did the alleged E-Force member suspect something? Maybe he overheard part of theconversation with Deb.

Colt managed a dismissive air. “I forgotwhere I parked. My vehicle’s over there. See you at the next meeting.”

Colt moved past Cain and retreated towardhis Land Cruiser. He maintained a casual stride and resisted the urge to cast abackward glance.

***

James D. Kellogg holds a B.S. in Biology anda M.S. in Civil Engineering, both from Virginia Tech. His professionalengineering experience encompasses ski area development and water resourcemanagement in western Colorado. Passion for adventure and imagination was theimpetus for his thriller novel, E-Force. James’ life experiences served ascatalysts for conception of protagonist, Colt Kelley. An outdoor enthusiast,James enjoys skiing, mountain biking, backpacking, rock climbing, and kayaking.He and his wife Kristen are raising their four kids near Glenwood Springs.Contact James at jameskellogg@comcast.net or visit http://jamesdkellogg.com.

Diana Rivers and “The Surgeon’s Blade”

2012-01-03T09:12:00.000-08:00

Mystery-suspense-thrillerwriter, Faith Mortimer is delighted to add book three to her best-selling DianaRivers mystery thriller series. This latest novel, “The Surgeon’s blade” is more chilling, tense and isdescribed as a ‘real corker of a read’.

Whennursing sister, Libby Hunter wakes up in hospital following a traumatic sailingaccident she discovers two deeply disturbing things. One - she has lost hermemory and two – the stranger, (Nigel) whom she finds sitting by her bedsidewhen she awakes claims to be herfiancé.

Duringher hospital stay, Libby regains most of her memory, except the bizarre thingis she cannot remember ever beingengaged to surgeon, Nigel. Against her will Nigel persuades Libby into agreeingto move in with him. Working on instinctshe finds excuses to put him off until she is completely sure of her truefeelings.

Duringa series of attacks on nurses in London and Southampton, Libby finds herself ingreat danger when her home is broken into one night. Who is the intruder anddoes he plan on harming her? And is this connected in any way to the recentattacks on nursing staff. Will Libby be the attacker’s latest targeted victim?

DistressedLibby turns to pilot, Robert for help and understanding, but is he asrespectable and kind as he appears to be? Is her fiancé, Nigel trustworthy,especially when his ex-wife, Stella enters the scene and Libby suspects them ofrekindling their relationship?

Thenight time intrusion to Libby’s house sets in motion a downwards spiral ofcataclysmic and terrifying events, culminating in our favourite sleuth, DianaRivers stepping in to help solve the case in this chilling mystery thriller.

For aglimpse of early reviews please go to: Amazon Customer 5 Star Reviews

About the author:

Faith Mortimer was born in Manchester andeducated in Singapore, Malaya and Hampshire, England. She qualified as aRegistered nurse and after some years changed careers to oversee a number oftravel and sport related companies.

Faith is thrilled with, “The Surgeon’s Blade”, book numberthree in her mystery thriller series and sincerely hopes you will be too.Please note any of the books of the series can be read in any order.

For updates on Faith’s books and regularblog posts please go to: http://www.faithmortimerauthor.com

Thank you for taking the time to readthrough this and a huge thank you to my dedicated readers and followers to whomI owe so much.

Admissions by Michael Ribisi

2011-12-30T14:45:00.000-08:00

Chapter 4 “The Discovery”

Unfortunately,Amy didn’t anticipate how quickly the bond between Lisa and Jeremy would grow.After just a couple of weeks, she found herself enduring stories about thefunny things that happened when he was with her.Conversations between Jeremy and Lisa overflowed with inside jokes and innuendothat Amy could not understand. Countless awkward moments awaited Amy anytimethe three of them were in a room together. She grew tired of being excluded andsometimes felt isolated from her own boyfriend’s life. Jeremy’s rekindledfriendship with Lisa was starting to get under her skin more with each passingday.

Amy started to feel badly about neglecting Jeremyand guilty for her ill feelings towards Lisa. After all, Amy had suggested theyspend more time together. However, she never told them to spend every wakinghour together either. In an attempt to spend more time with him, despite herschedule, Amy had asked Jeremy to move in with her and he happily accepted.

The quality of their timeimproved for about a week, until Lisa began to show up every day looking forher best friend. Only a week away from her final exam, Amy felt comfort thatthings would be getting back to normal soon enough. Her short-lived comfortended on a cool October night, when she received some disturbing news from herbest friend Whitney.

“Listen Amy, I don’t know the best way to tellyou this, so I’m just gonna say it,” Whitney began. “I was downtown runningerrands, and I saw Jeremy and Lisa walking out of the Marquee Hotel together.”

“What are you talking about? He wouldn’t dothat Whitney; that’s not true!” Amy shouted while pulling the car over tocomplete the conversation. Her heart began racing and she felt faint. Her bestfriend’s words were like venom coursing through her veins, both painful anddeadly. Amy paused for a moment taking a deep breath, praying that her ears haddeceived her.

“Amy, I wouldn’t lie to you! Youknow that. I saw that bastard come out of the Marquee with her! They werelaughing and giggling and I don’t even know what,” furiously responded Whitney.Heartbroken over the suggestion that she would dare lie, Whitney realized Amy’sreaction was a typical case of denial. Her motives, created out of protectionand love for a best friend, were of pure and good intentions. Understandingthat deceitful acts such as these always find a way of surfacing eventually,she wanted Amy to hear it from her first. She would not allow Jeremy any moretime to figure out the error in his ways, and wanted him to suffer for this treachery.

Images of graphic and repulsivesexual acts between Jeremy and Lisa circled Amy’s mind while her heart rejectedthe incoming thoughts swiftly. A battle on two fronts, doubt and belief, werewaging war through her fragile psyche, and belief won effortlessly. In deepmeditation, she feverishly twirled a strand of hair around her index finger,trying to create an explanation that made sense. Minutes of silence passed asshe formed her doubts into questions. Whitney waited for what seemed like yearsuntil Amy finally spoke again. “Whitney,” she said sharply, “I was so busystudying. I know that they hang out. I mean, could it be that you just saw themnear the hotel and not coming out of the hotel?”

“Amy, it was him and her: Lisa and Jeremy.Shit! I could almost swear he saw me, but he put his head down. Disgusting!Made me sick. I’m sorry girl. I had to tell you,” confidently replied Whitney.She paused and took a deep breath, filling her lungs with air and her heartwith sympathy as she continued, “I love you Amy. I’m so sorry I have to be theone to tell you this. Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” responded Amy, “I just don’tknow.”

Parked off to the side of theroad, in an abandoned church parking lot, Amy began sobbing uncontrollably.Hunched over in the front seat of her car, she gasped for air every few secondsas the rain cloud in her eyes emptied relentlessly into her lap. Tears ran downthe sides of her hands, dripping off her fingers and she rubbed her face indisbelief. She slowly reached into the center console in search of sometissues. Finding an old napkin underneath a heap of candy wrappers and emptycigarette packs, she thought of Jeremy immediately. He always used the centerconsole as his personal garbage dump, and she hated that about him. She quicklyscooped up the garbage with both hands and threw all of it out the window,hoping that she would feel better, but she felt worse.

Whitney remained holding theline, her temper burning hotter than the sun, as she listened to Amy shriek inagony. Whitney was never fond of Jeremy, his cocky attitude towards herhusband, and her dislike intensified into hatred. Whitney heard the sound ofheavy breathing into the earpiece. She whispered, “It's okay Honey. Let it allout. Just let it all out.”

While rubbing a coarse, crumblednapkin against her swollen eyes, Amy spoke in a somber tone, “We were supposedto go to dinner tonight at seven o’clock. I told him I had to make a quick stopat the library, and he said that was fine, we’d just do it at eight. He waswith Lisa. I could hear her giggling in the background. I can’t believe hewould do this to me, it doesn’t make any sense.”

“Did you tell him what time you’dbe home?” quizzed Whitney.

“Yeah, I said around seven thirtyor so, why? What does that matter?” Amy asked innocently.

“Get your ass home RIGHT now.He’s probably - you know…I don’t want to say it.”

“Come on…you really think hewould? In our house?”

“I don’t know…this is justhorrible, you know?” responded Whitney.

“This can’t be happening Whit. Itjust can’t be! I mean, I can’t believe this. I don’t know what else to say. Ifeel like I’m suffocating!”

“Oh girl, I’m so sorry. Shit! Youwant me to come get you and bring you home? I’ll smack that bitch across herface.”

“No, I have to do this on my own.What am I gonna do? He’ll know I’m home the minute I drive up!” Retorted Amy.

“Okay look,” Whitney saidconspiratorially, “You’ve got to park up the street and go in from the garage.He won’t be expecting that. Catch that bastard, tell him you are finished withhis lies, then get your stuff and come over here.”

“Barry won’t mind if I stay withyou?” she asked politely, giving a thought to Whitney’s offer.

“He doesn’t have a choice. I’llgo on strike. He’ll have dirty clothes, no dinner, and I’ll start making himchange some diapers. That gets him every time. Ha!” Whitney joked, trying tocheer up her friend.

Pick up Admissions by Michael Ribisi on Amazon

Cruel Justice (an excerpt) by Mel Comley

2011-12-26T22:08:00.000-08:00

Prologue.

Friday August 30^th, 2007

The pain from the welts on the woman's naked back intensified. She hadno concept of time, no idea how long she'd been tied up. Her hands hadlost all feeling from being tightly bound to an old wooden chair.

Is this how her life would end?

It had taken a while, but her nostrils had finally grown used to thevile stench permeating her temporary cell.

Time, all she had was time. Time to think, time to ask the same questionover and over. Who was he? And why was he holding her captive? What unspeakablething had she done in her life to make a complete stranger treat her this way? I'm a kindand caring person, aren't I?

What type of person kept a woman locked up in a hellhole like this?

He tortured her with silence when he brought her food, if you can callweek-old bread food. She had tried different ways to get a reaction outof him, shouting, reasoning, even her pitiful attempt at begging had fallen ondeaf ears. His sneer, and the way his dark eyes roamed her naked body inresponse, made her skin crawl.

Now her own thoughts had started torturing her. Her aching limbs criedout for warm lavender-oil filled baths, if only to wash away the urine stingingher legs and the faeces clinging to her behind. She felt utterly degraded. Itwas a far cry from her usual opulent lifestyle.

Every waking minute dragged into agonisingly long hours. Please, whenwill this nightmare end? How will this nightmare end? She asked hermaker, repeatedly.

Water dripped constantly in the corner adding to her torment. Sheblocked the noise out by reminiscing happier moments, hoping it would helpprevent the craziness threatening to seep into her mind. Fearing her life wouldsoon come to an end, she prayed endlessly that her dead husband would be thereto greet her when she finally passed over. How wonderful it would be to feelhis comforting arms around me now.

Her heart leapt into her throat when the hatch door swung open. Thesudden rush of daylight hurt her eyes, causing them to water. She winced andwas swiftly reminded that her right eye was swollen from the beating she hadreceived a few days earlier.

The man gingerly made his way down the precarious ladder, followed byanother person.

The imprisoned woman's pulse accelerated, furiously gathering momentum.He crossed the stone floor and stopped in front of her.

"Please … pleaselet me go," shepleaded, in a childlike voice.

The man stared at her for a moment before the vilest of laughsescaped his lips. "Why? Tellme why I should let you go?"

"I beg ofyou, please, tell me what I have done?"

He smirked, and circled her chair in a menacing manner. "Ah,ignorance is a blissful thing."

Bile rose in her throat and she swallowed it back down. "Please, I'm beggingyou. Please tell me what I've done wrong?"

Through clenched teeth he said, "If onlyyou had done something. Helped in some way, but you didn't, did you? Itwas far easier to just leave us there. To let us rot in that shithole foryears. Well, now you know how it feels."

The man's words and aggression made her flinch. "I'm sorry,but I have no idea what you mean. Do I know you?"

"You're allthe same. You avoid helping those who cry for help. Your kind makes me sick." Asthough filled with a terrible venom, his lips turned down, then he jerked hishead and spat on her face.

"You and your ilk think you're all so mighty. But you're no betterthan the shite you're sitting on. You're all full of it!"

Tears ran over the bruises on the woman's cheeks as he ranted at her.

"You're a filthy, whimpering, bitch! What are you?"

She bowed her head.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you."

She held up her head.

"Now what are you?"

"I'm a filthy..."

"Yes? You're a filthy what?"

Snot ran into her mouth as she said, "I... I'm a filthy...whimpering, bitch..." Her throat tightened for want of a sip of water. Sheneeded to wipe her nose.

His laughter filled the room.

"Please, could I have a drink of water?"

"Oh, madam would like to quench her thirst?"

"Please?"

"And how about something to eat? You must be hungry. No?"

"Yes."

The man pulled a pair of rubber gloves from his jacket pocket andslipped his hands into them. He then moved to the back of the chair.

She couldn't figure out what he was doing but when he stood in front ofher again he smiled. She gulped at the sight of what he had in his hand. Herheart pounded.

"Open your mouth."

"Please don't..." Her brow furrowed.

"But you're hungry. Right? You said you were hungry. Now open your mouth.Wide."

Eyes stinging, she opened it, and the wider she did so the more heralready-chapped lips cracked.

"Yes, your kind are full of it."

He moved closer and shoved a handful of faeces into her mouth.

"Now chew and swallow it!"

Between gagging and sobbing, she consumed her own filth.

He looked at her pubic area. "You really are a filthy bitch."He removed the gloves and tossed them on the floor.

Between bouts of hysterical laughter, he continued shouting obscenitiesbut his words seemed jumbled to her already confused mind.

Still very much amused, he turned and walked towards the ladder.

Oh, thank God he's leaving. For amoment, she closed her tired eyes, but when she opened them he was on his wayback. It was then she noticed the metal bar in his right hand.

Oh, God, Is this the end?

"You disgust me!" He shuffled closer.

Covered in goose-bumps, and teeth chattering, she peered up into theevil, black, eyes angrily eating through her flesh.

"Did youhear me?"

"I … I don'tunderstand. What have I done to deserve this?" shemumbled, through cracked, soiled lips.

"I have had enough, you stuttering, smelly, bitch."

The bar raised, the woman's piercing scream filled the tinyroom, but her screams were lost in his madness. The bar crashed down and in oneblow smashed her skull wide open. Her life's blood ebbed away.

He continued hitting her as images of his childhood ran through hiscrazed mind. Strike after strike, he punished her, unaware that her last breathhad left her body five minutes before.

Satisfaction overwhelmed him.

A large saw lay in the cellar corner, and as though about to reach anorgasm, he grabbed it and positioned it on the woman's lifeless neck. Back andforth, back and forth, he pushed it, faster, faster, and as he cut through thetendons and bones he clenched his teeth until her head fell onto the floor.

The third person had silently observed the proceedings and stepped outfrom the shadows.

Turning to look at her, he could tell by the way her face lit up, shewas pleased with the precision and the eagerness of his actions.

"The first part of the puzzle is now in place," said the man.

"Yes, and we both know there's no turning back, now."

"Yes. This is just the beginning..."

***
Available on:
Amazon US
Amazon UK
Barnes and Noble
iTunes
KOBO

Mel Comley is a thriller writer who hascreated a British national treasure, DI Lorne Simpkins. Lorne is featured in atrilogy of ‘Justice’ thrillers. Last year Mel also released a couple of romancenovellas too. See all her titles here: http://melcomley.blogspot.com/

Stairway to the Bottom By Michael Haskins

2011-12-18T07:57:00.000-08:00

Chapter 1

If I hadn’t gone to watch thecomedy showcase at the Key West Fringe Theater, I wouldn’t have silenced mycell phone. If I hadn’t silenced my cell, I would have answered Dick Walsh’sfirst call at 1:10 A.M., andthen things might not have gone so badly. If is a damn big word for onlyhaving two letters.

I unplugged the cell from itscharger in the morning and the lighted screen reminded me it was on silent modeand that I had five messages.

Each of Dick’s messages was morefrantic and pleading than the last. He needed help, but didn’t say for what. Bythe third message, he was cussing but still wanted me to call and that was at3:15. He didn’t sound drunk, like most three in the morning callers do, hesounded scared.

The fifth and final message cameat 5:36. He had calmed down, asked me to come by his house as soon as possibleand gave me the address. His composed voice assured me I would understand theproblem after I arrived and he would be in touch later.

“Mick, I need you to believe me,it isn’t what it looks like. Please help me,” his message ended with a quietplea.

I dressed quickly in last night’sclothing and swallowed cold water from a bottle out of the cooler. Before I gotinto my Jeep and drove to Dick’s house on Von Phister Street, I called his cellbut it went to voice mail and I left a message. We were playing phone tag.

Von Phister is a narrow,tree-lined street in a quiet neighborhood of old and new houses. Dick’s was anold two-story house with a large gumbo-limbo tree in front and two more inback. He actually had a decent-size backyard, something that is at a premium inKey West.

The house was dark. It was almostsix-thirty, about an hour since his last call. The sky was a light gray with areddish-purple sunrise pushing the dawn westward. Only a large yellow tomcatcrossed my path on the empty street.

I parked in front and noticedDick’s scooter was gone. I went up the steps to the wraparound porch, rang thebell, and then knocked. Nothing. I looked into the living room window. Nothing.I knocked again and when no one answered, I tried the door. It was unlocked soI went in.

The stench that greeted me in thehallway was familiar. The smell of death was strong and that told me somewherein the house, death was very recent. Death, if left alone long enough cloaksall other odors, especially in the tropics – violent death even more so.

I called Dick’s name but no oneanswered. I walked into the living room and it looked lived in – a big screenTV, stereo with CDs stacked next to it, a sectional sofa set. A hallway led toa kitchen, small dining room, and bathroom. The stairway on the right wentupstairs to the bedrooms.

Dick used the dining room as hisoffice – medium-sized desk that was too big for the room, a computer, aprinter, and a two-drawer file. I walked through into the kitchen. There was atable for two off to the side, dirty dishes in the sink and a woman’s body onthe floor.

She lay face down and a largepart of her head was gone. Pieces of shattered skull, along with parts of her brainand blood, tarnished the otherwise clean kitchen wall.

Blood and human waste soaked thetile floor and stained her clothing.

The stench of death filled thekitchen. I didn’t bother looking for a pulse.

An automatic with a silencerattached lay on the floor, her arm stretched out toward it as if reaching forthe gun that had a small stream of brownish blood curled up next to it.

I ran upstairs to check the twobedrooms, calling Dick’s name. Both rooms were neat and the beds made. Nothingbroken or seemingly out of place. Dick’s closet looked full with only a coupleof empty hangers in the mix. The guestroom closet was empty.

Dick shot this woman, Ithought as I looked down at her body. Whose gun was it on the floor? I didn’ttouch anything, though I wanted to. My curiosity was getting the best of me.

I’m Liam Murphy, a semi-retiredjournalist and fulltime sail bum, some say. Key West has been my home foralmost eighteen years. Before that, I lived in Southern California and reportedon Central American civil wars and when they ended I covered the drug wars fora weekly newsmagazine so a dead body wasn’t something that frightened me itintrigued me.

In Key West, I’ve made friendswith all kinds of characters, including the chief of police, Richard Dowley. Wehave a two-sided relationship. One side is Richard the cop, the other isRichard the friend. He considers me a friend but always thinks of me as ajournalist. He says I only have one side. I called him on my cell, sure ofcatching him at home, and knew I’d be talking to his cop side.

I told him where I was and whatI’d found.

“What are you doing at that nut’shouse?” I could hear him banging around in the kitchen.

When I explained about themessages and Dick’s plea, he sighed loudly enough for me to hear on the phone.

“Don’t touch anything and I’llcall it in,” he said. “Best thing is go outside and wait for the first unit,and I’ll make it there too.”

“Okay, Richard, but tell theambulance it doesn’t have to hurry,” I said and he hung up without replying.

Outside, I sat and waited,thinking of Dick’s last message telling me it wasn’t what it looked like. Itlooked like murder.

***

Stairway to the Bottom is available on Amazon and Barnes and Noble.

For more on Michael Haskins visit his website at http://www.michaelhaskins.net/

The Versatile Blogger Award

2011-12-11T22:17:00.001-08:00

And the winner is...Me! Well my blog A Hint of Murder...And Other Mysteries.

Dannye Williamson just awarded me the "The VersatileBlogger" award for my A Hint of Murder Blog. This award is given to newlydiscovered blogs and I appreciate Dannye thinking of me and this blog.

In acceptance if this award I was asked to share seventhings about myself.

1.As an infant I was set down on a large hill and tumbled allthe way to the bottom.

2.I flew a small plane when I was 12.

3.I was taught to hot wire a car when I was 13.

4.I’ve had fifteen different jobs since I was fifteen.

5.I was offered a chance to buy a copy of an exambefore taking it. I turned it down, studied my ass off and got a great score. Then was accused of cheating.

6.My husband and I moved to Colorado and only stayed for threeweeks. We call it our vacation with furniture.

7.I’m married to my high school sweetheart and we’ll celebrate20 years of marriage in 2012.

I am passing this award on to these five blogs that youmight enjoy as well.

Valerie Maarten http://gotbooks85.weebly.com/index.html

Matt Posner http://schooloftheages.webs.com/

Stephen Hise http://www.indiesunlimited.com/

Donna Brown http://adoptanindie.com/

Cathy Speight http://cnkbookreviews.blogspot.com/

THE CONSUMMATE TRAITOR ~ Excerpt

2011-12-11T12:52:00.001-08:00

The Consummate Traitor by Bonnie Toews

A dramatic thriller with elements of intrigue, suspense and romance.

One woman is betrayed; the other, sacrificed. What happens to them triggers a chain reaction of double crosses that alter the outcome of World War II.

On the eve of World War II, American journalist Lee Talbot witnesses Hitler’s experiment in “total war, the bombing of Guernica in northern Spain. It’s a preview of the horrors Nazi Germany will unleash if Hitler’s nuclear labs develop the atomic bomb first. Lee joins Churchill’s secret operation to sabotage Hitler’s experiments but ends up babysitting the King of England’s cousin, Lady Grace Talbot, a gifted pianist who fancies herself in love with an SS officer. When Lady Grace’s parents die in a London bombing, she joins Lee’s team as a ‘pianist,’ transmitting coded messages to British covert missions in Nazi-held territory. Soon, both women learn that, in the secret world of spies, they can trust no one except each other when their missions are compromised behind enemy lines. In a tale rich with historical detail, what happens to these two women exposes a secret England wants buried forever.

Excerpt:

Wednesday, March 3rd, 1943

Quinn will lead the tactical team,” Sir Fletcher explained to the four people who sat grouped in front of him. He picked up a pointer from the blackboard ledge and continued.

“There are only two heavy water plants in the world. One is in Canada, at the Consolidated Mining and Smelting Plant in Trail, British Columbia. The other is controlled by the Germans in Norway.”

He rolled down the wall map of Europe and nodded his head at the blond man sitting with them. “Rolf tells us the Nazis plan to transport heavy water from Norsk to Dr. Nielsen’s lab in Copenhagen. We can’t let that happen. That’s why I’ve advanced this mission.”

As Sir Fletcher continued his background briefing, Lee’s mind drifted over to Quinn Bergin. The last time she had seen him was almost three years ago. Yet, instead of welcoming her and Sir Fletcher at the Rainbow Corner the night before, he ignored her, except for a curt nod, and treated the Amanita director as if he were the worst sinner in the building. Quinn’s snub burned her deeply, while Sir Fletcher – she felt sorry for their intrepid leader – his plan for a happy reunion turned into a night of disasters between Grace’s snit and Quinn’s mood.

Despite Quinn’s professional aloofness when they worked together through Germany, Poland and Russia, she had entrusted her soul to him. They had been as one mind and one spirit devoid of physical coupling, and in leaving him behind, she had left a part of herself with him. That part she expected to recover when they were reunited. Instead, his apparent indifference trapped her in limbo and tripped old feelings of abandonment. What had changed?

No, she corrected herself, what had hardened him so? He had become a finely honed guerrilla fighter, a killing instrument. Somewhere, during the depersonalizing process, he had lost the will to connect to his emotional center.

The tapping of Sir Fletcher’s pointer drew her attention back to the map. Directing the pointer tip, he circled the Kjolen range of mountains near Rjukan in Norway.

“Here,” he said. “The Norsk Hydro Electric Plant.”

Sir Fletcher turned to face them. “Rolf Haukelid, as you know, has been inside Norsk since 1938 as its chief engineer. When we’ve needed him to frustrate the Germans’ atomic research, he has performed annoying sabotage tricks.”

“Like what?” Lee asked without thinking.

Rolf lifted an eyebrow to Sir Fletcher for permission to speak.

“By all means,” he relented.

“Well, one of the things I’ve done is drop a cup of cod liver oil into an electrolytic tube. This jams up their whole process and makes the heavy water they ship to their experimental labs useless when the researchers try to restart it.”

“You’re kidding! Cod-liver oil?” Lee laughed. “What it loosens for humans it constipates for science. How ingenious!”

She openly admired the strapping six-footer. Rolf was a Norwegian- American engineer in his mid-thirties. Because of his ethnic background, he could speak Norwegian fluently and was slipped into Norway before the German occupation to build up credentials as an electronics expert and a Nazi sympathizer at Norsk. When the Nazis took over the plant, they unwittingly put in place one of Project Amanita’s most strategic agents.

Lee had met Rolf before, briefly, in Berlin, at one of Goring’s Karinhall banquets. There she had passed a hidden message to him. A spark between them had caught fire, but then it was neither the time nor the place to fan the flame, so they had let it fizzle. His peculiar contradiction of robust gentleness, rather like a Norse mythical god turned cowboy, was what originally drew Lee to him.

Now his refreshing openness in contrast to the closed Quinn stirred her again. Sparse strands of sandy fluff sprouting from his shiny dome were just too cute to resist. She engaged his eyes, which reminded her of an iceberg’s glacial green except for the gold glints twinkling back at her. Her cheeks warmed and her pulse quickened.

As a journalist, Bonnie Toews has covered significant events such as the Rwandan genocide in 1994. Her eyewitness view contributes to the plight of children in war as a recurring theme through her novels. With hundreds of published articles and five business press awards in her portfolio, Bonnie currently advocates for better care and treatment of Canada’s wounded warriors and is a member of the Canadian Veterans Advocacy, Military Writers Society of America, American Authors Association and American Christian Fiction Writers. THE CONSUMMATE TRAITOR is her first novel in a trilogy about treason.

BLOG: http://www.homecomingvets.com

Web Site: http://www.bonnietoews.com

Agatha Christie Missing!

2011-12-02T10:18:00.001-08:00

That was the headline 85 years ago.

On December 3, 1926,Agatha Christie disappeared from home in Berkshire, England. As the story goes,her husband had asked for a divorce and admitted to falling in love withanother woman. Already distraught over the recent death of her mother, hearingthis news proved to be devastating enough to send her packing. But not beforewriting several confusing and mysterious letters, including one to her husband.A letter to her brother-in-law stated she was going for a vacation in Yorkshireand another to the local chief constable said she feared for her life. When hercar was found abandoned the next day, there was uproar in the press andthousands of volunteers searched the countryside.

When Christie was finally discovered at a spa in Harrogateshe claimed to have been suffering from temporary amnesia. She had been missing for eleven days! To this day there is still speculation abouther disappearance as well as her explanation. It’s been said that Christiechecked into the hotel under the surname of her husbands’ lover. Was that done intentionallyto get back at her husband or is it further evidence that she had lost hermemory as she claimed? Many speculated that she had a nervous breakdown andneeded to escape into seclusion. Others questioned if the whole thing was apublicity stunt for more sales. But by the time she vanished, Agatha Christiehad published more than ten novels and short stories, each more successful thanthe last.

Though the press was left angered and with unansweredquestions, Agatha Christie never again would speak of the incident. I can’thelp but wonder what the consequences would be today if the same situation hadoccurred. All the money and manpower that went on for days searching forChristie would not simply be let go. These days people want accountability nomatter who you are. I’d like to believe the nervous breakdown theory myself.Christie’s daughter was around seven-years-old at the time and I can’t see anymother (in her right mind) willingly take off from her child in that way forthat long.

If you’re interested in reading more about Agatha Christieand the details surrounding her disappearance, there are several interestingwebsites. Here are a few:

http://www.poirot.us/disappear.php

http://www.straightdope.com/columns/read/361/why-did-mystery-writer-agatha-christie-mysteriously-disappear

http://christie.mysterynet.com/

You can even purchase the NY times article that waspublished when she was found http://select.nytimes.com/gst/abstract.html?res=F60C17FE3C591B7A93C7A81789D95F428285F9&scp=4&sq=Agatha%20Christie%20Disappearance&st=cse

Facebook Fan Page Turkey Trot

2011-11-24T11:00:00.001-08:00

So you’ve heard of a blog hop? Well this is the first everFan Page Turkey Trot. You will get to discover some great new Facebook fan pages and win some prizes as well. Each fan page has to do with books and reading,and is linked to the other fan pages, so you will trot your way throughFacebook stopping each time you find the turkey.

When you start your trot you will be directed to a fan page.Take a look around. Then go to the photo albums and click through until youspot the turkey. Once you find the turkey, you’ll know what to do next. Don’tworry if you get lost, you can come back here and get this link http://vmaarten.blogspot.com/2011/11/hop-tours-express.htmlwhich lists all the fanpages .

Some pages will give you an instant code for a free downloadof a book while others will enter you into a drawing.

Start here on Quickie Book Reviews!

A Hint of Murder: The Anthology

2011-11-23T14:14:00.001-08:00

If you haven’t read any of the A Hint of Murder stories, now is your chance to get all three at once. I’ve recently combined all the AHM stories into an anthology. You get 3 A Hint of Murder mysteries, + a bonus mystery, + sample chapters from other talented mystery and thriller writer. Check out a brief synopsis of each below to see what you will get.

A Hint of Murder: The Writer

Alicia Fairfield didn’t plan on being famous. Now a bestselling author with millions of fans, Alicia also has the attention of a killer. Someone has been recreating the murders from her books and the suspects are piling up; her mentally ill son, a disgruntled associate, and possibly even her loyal literary agent. The pressure of public recognition along with the guilt over these senseless killings could be enough to drive Alicia over the edge. Can she hold it together long enough to uncover a killer?
Story length 9,000 words

A Hint of Murder: The Doctor
Russell Morgan had it all; good looks, the perfect woman and a rewarding career as a well-respected physician. When the doctor’s patients start turning up dead, his world comes crashing down. Second in the "A Hint of Murder" series, this short story brings Detective John Lewis back in action to track down the killer.
Story length: 12,000 words

A Hint of Murder: The Bouncer
Bobby Crane was tired of being a bouncer and a glorified errand boy. He longed to be a professional singer and was just about to get his big break. Then Allen Schaffer is found murdered and Bobby’s car was spotted at the victim’s home. Third in the A Hint of Murder series, this story has detective John Lewis returning with a new partner to uncover a murderer.
Story length: 10,400 words

Also included is one bonus mystery entitled "Homeless" and excerpts from the novels of these mystery and thriller writers: Libby Fischer Hellmann, Valerie Maarten, Mel Comley, Sibel Hodge, Faith Mortimer, and Seb Kirby.

A Hint of Murder: The Anthology

Amazon US http://ow.ly/7xiI7

Amazon UK http://ow.ly/7xiKW

Barnes and Noble http://ow.ly/7yZWo

Mini Mystery Monday

2011-11-21T08:17:00.000-08:00

Today starts a new biweekly feature on the blog. Every twoweeks (or so) we’ll have Mini Mystery Monday. I’ll present a short paragraphfor you to read and ponder what exactly is going on. Be the first to guess byposting below and you’ll win a free download of one of my books. You may alsopost questions in the comments section which I will respond to. Some of thesemysteries will be originals by me or other guest writers, while others you mayhave heard years ago.

Let’s start with an easy one so you can get the hang of it.

A man walks into a bar, goes straight up to the bartenderand orders a glass of water. The bartender takes out a gun and points it at theman. The man then says “thank you” and walks out of the bar.

Post your guesses or questions below. First correct answerwill receive a free download of A Hint of Murder: The Writer from Smashwords. http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/81640

A Hint of Murder: The Bouncer

2011-11-10T07:56:00.001-08:00

The third "A Hint of Murder" story is now available on Amazon and Barnes and Noble. You can pick up "A Hint of Murder: The Bouncer" now for just 99 cents.

Not sure if you want it yet? Here's a sneak peek of A Hint of Murder: The Bouncer.

EXCERPT

For the first time in three years, Bobby Crane would not bestanding at the door of the Lion’s Club; he’d be onstage. Instead of bouncingout of control partyers, he’d be entertaining them. Until that very moment, hewas a nervous wreck preparing for his singing debut. Planning out just theright song for the night, including the inevitable encore number. Picking outwhat he would wear. Inviting the few special people in his life. Screw the restof them. Bobby wouldn’t say a word to any of the doubters who mocked his dreamsof becoming a huge singing sensation. He wouldn’t have to after tonight.

Bobby took a drink off his water bottle and set it down onthe wooden stool next to him. Then, he blasted a squirt of throat spray in hismouth just as he read professional singers do before performances. A quickcheck of his pits, and all was well and going according to plan. Piece of cake, he thought to himself.

“Me, may, maw, mo, moo. Me, may, maw, mo, moo!” he sang. Hewas careful not to overdo the warm-up.

It was just about time so he moved up closer to the curtainto ready himself. He watched as Mike, the club manager, took the stage toannounce him. Just as Bobby was about to step forward, he felt a gentle tap onhis shoulder.

“Mr. Crane?” he heard a soft voice say.

To his surprise, Bobby turned to find two people standing rightbehind him. They definitely weren’t dressed for a club night, so they couldn’tbe fans already.

“Yeah, that’s me. But I’m a little busy as you can see.” Hegestured with his head out to the audience. He heard Mike talking about him onstage.

“Mr. Crane, I’m detective Lewis…with the Sheriff’sDepartment,” the man said. He was about as tall as Bobby, but didn’t have hisgirth.

Bobby sized him up out of habit.

“And this is detective Barnes.”

He turned toward the petite woman standing next to him. Bobbywondered how much ass that little thing could kick and figured his meat hookscould fit all the way around her waist and still touch.

“What’s going on?” Bobby asked.

Detective Barnes said, “Mr. Crane, do you know a Mr. AllenShaffer?”

Bobby let that hang in the air for a moment while he focusedhis thoughts. “Uh, I know of him.” He glanced back over his shoulder cringingas he heard Mike say, “Okay, well just hang tight for a few minutes and Bobbywill be right out.” Bobby shot Mike a desperate look and then he shrugged andturned back to the detectives.

“Were you at Mr. Shaffer’s residence this morning?”

Bobby felt his dream slipping away, and now had to make aquick decision. Police never ask about anyone unless it’s bad news, and if theywere asking then they probably knew he was there. He was never convicted ofanything, but still, he was no stranger to the cops. Lying would only makethings worse. “I may have stopped by. Today’s been a busy day.”

“We’re going to need to ask you a few questions, Mr. Crane,”Detective Barnes said. “Could we please step out back for a few minutes?”

“Look ma’am, can this wait?” Bobby let out a sigh as he felthis once dry shirt moisten beneath his arms. “This was supposed to be mydebut.”

“Detective is fine, and yeah, we heard,” Barnes said. Hersmile was endearing but she quickly exchanged it with a serious expression.“Unfortunately it can’t. Allen Shaffer was found dead in his home thisafternoon. So…we’re going to need to ask you a few questions…now.

All three hundred pounds of Bobby deflated and sank towardthe floor. He stole one last glance at the stage and then followed the twodetectives out the door.

***

Detective John Lewis drove his new partner back to theoffice to check in and go over the crime scene photos and video. The patroldeputies had arrived first at the Greenbrae residence of Allen Schaffer. Theyhad the scene pretty well secured before Lewis and Barnes arrived, but theystill ended up spending a couple of hours at the scene.

Now Lewis was trying to ignore the hunger pangs that poundedin his belly. He was supposed to meet Frank for a late dinner, but thatpossibility was looking grim. Getting assigned to work with April Barnes onthis case was a disappointment, but Sergeant Wallace wouldn’t budge. Barnes wasnew and Wallace wanted the one person he could count on most to break her in.Staring at the open road ahead of him, he wondered how such a gentle littlething ended up as a Marin County Sheriff. And before he could stop himself, hewas already asking her.

“I’m from a huge family,” Barnes said. Her elbow rested onthe open window and she brushed away a piece of dirty blonde hair that flewacross her face. “Not just brothers and sisters either; cousins, aunts, uncles.Our house was filled with people all the time. I was pretty close to being theyoungest and got pushed around a lot.” She glanced over a few times as shespoke, but Lewis kept his eyes on the road. “I guess I sort of became a majoradvocate for fairness. I knew some day I’d be doing something that involved thelaw.”

Lewis couldn’t help but drift away from her story and backto the crime scene; his mind mentally scanning every inch of the living roomthat Schaffer was found lying in. He knew it was time to cut her story short,but couldn’t think of a polite segue. “So, April, what did you think about allthat white at Schaffer’s?”

“If you don’t mind, I prefer Barnes.”

This time Lewis did look over, uneasiness filling the car.“Okaaay,” he said.

“Well, what do you call Detective Costas?” she asked.

“Frank.”

“Oh, well I still prefer Barnes if you don’t mind. It soundsmore professional to the civilians.” Her tone was stoic. “And I’ll call youLewis.”

“Great, cuz that’s what everyone calls me.” He flashed her awry smile and then rubbed his hand across his thick brown hair. “So what aboutthe house?” Lewis was referring to the unusually white decor of AllenSchaffer’s home. There was almost no color what so ever including the carpet,furniture and paint. It looked like Caesar’s Palace. John had noted uponarrival the contrasting, almost beautiful bright red blood splattered acrossthe stark white carpet. The victim himself had been dressed all in white aswell.

Also available:

A Hint of Murder: The Writer (Amazon) http://t.co/CyolTp4 (Barnes and Noble) http://ow.ly/7r16O

A Hint of Murder: The Doctor (Amazon) http://ow.ly/6DyWF (Barnes and Noble) http://ow.ly/6ILrM

Halloween Blog Hop & Giveaway

2011-10-27T21:05:00.000-07:00

Welcome to the Halloween Blog Hop where you can explore newauthors and enter lots of great contests. Each participating author will runtheir own contest and once you’ve entered one, you can click on the blog hopicon on the right side and it will take you back to the list of authors and blogs you canchoose from.

For my contest, everyone will win because I’ve already madeone of my stories free! Then, you can enter to win my novel, In Search of Lucy.

Here’s how it works:First, you automatically get A Hint ofMurder: The Writer free by clicking on ~THE COFFIN~ above. There you will also found other deals and freebies on some great books. Then, enter youremail on the right side of this page to receive the blog's newsletter, and you'll be entered to wina free download of my book on Smashwords. For more information about In Search of Lucy you can go here: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/50303

Once the blog hop ends, at midnight on October 31^st,I’ll contact the winner via email.

Good luck and have a hauntingly fun time!

Happy HallowScreen!

2011-10-04T22:17:00.000-07:00

For all yousocial media lovers out there I thought I would throw you a little virtualHalloween party. Just because you’re not a kid anymore doesn’t mean you can’tget into the spirit of Halloween. Don’t spend your night just Trick-or-Tweetingor updating your haunting status on FaceBoo! Here are a few things you can doleading up to, and on, the spooky night while still staying connected.

Get some new HalloweenApps for your phone*:

http://socialtimes.com/9-cool-iphone-apps-to-get-you-into-the-halloween-mood_b7813

http://ismashphone.com/2010/10/spooky-halloween-iphone-apps.html

http://appchronicles.com/10/10-scary-apps-for-halloween/

Send out some Halloweenecards to friends and family:

http://www.hallmark.com/occasion/halloween/e-cards/

http://smilebox.com/halloween.html

http://www.123greetings.com/events/halloween/

Read some free scary,short stories, online:

Horror - http://www.shortstories101.com/horror-short-stories/

Mystery/Crime- http://www.storystar.com/php/list.php?theme_id=31

Ghost - http://www.ghostsandstories.com/true-ghost-stories.html

Paranormal -http://www.wattpad.com/stories/paranormal/short-story

Buy or rent scarymovies for your computer or tablet:

http://www.amazon.com/s?ie=UTF8&rh=n%3A2649512011%2Cp_n_format_browse-bin%3A2650306011%2Cp_n_theme_browse-bin%3A2650371011&page=1

http://www.cinemanow.com/Horror/1083,0,5,,1,4,0/

Brush up on yourHalloween trivia:http://www.usefultrivia.com/holiday_trivia/halloween_trivia_index.html

(*Some appsmay be from last year and link may not be active)

Diana Rivers Pulls It Off!

2011-09-27T22:02:00.000-07:00

Diana is head over heels in love with life. Not only has she just solved the mysterious murders back home in Cyprus in, ‘The Assassins’ Village’ but she’s also expecting her first child.

Steve decides they both need a holiday after solving the murders and suggests a return visit to Malaysia, where Diana spent some of her childhood. She remembers the lush, velvety tropical nights and agrees it is a delightful idea.

They arrive at their luxurious plantation hotel and things turn out not quite as Steve would perhaps have liked. The hotel was the family home of the Chalcots, a family whose life was steeped and shrouded in mystery. Diana is asked to take a look through some old diaries…there are dark hints and secrets concerning this enigmatic family.

Just what are the mysterious diaries all about? Who was Alex and what did he discover…and what did he really do all those years ago when he was growing up?

Who was Paul, Hermione and the beautiful but selfish Eleanor? Who was responsible for events that shocked the whole family and plunged it into despair? And what is the real story behind all the façade?

Will Diana triumph against all odds yet again in, ‘Children of The Plantation’?

Children Of The Plantation

Prologue

Opening the kitchen door, she spotted a vixen standing near the refuse bin. Hermione clapped her hands, and it shot through the hedge at the bottom of the garden.

Hermione's heart was thudding in her breast as she considered what next to do. Casting a look around, she gave thanks that the clouds scudding overhead made it a dark night. This had to be done in complete privacy.

Giving herself a mental shake, she crossed the damp grass to the shed and picked up a spade. A clod of earth still clung to the sharp blade from where she had been digging in her vegetable patch earlier that afternoon. It seemed such a long time ago now. She paused, still not completely certain she was doing the right thing. Making up her mind, she walked over to the newly turned earth.

The air smelt fresh after the rain shower, and a light breeze blew the mixed garden scents her way while she dug. The hole was to be small but deep, especially as she had just driven the fox off. Satisfied, she stood back and peered down into the soft loamy material, a sorry place for such a pathetic bundle.

Sick at heart, but knowing they had no choice, Hermione laid down her spade and walked back into the kitchen. She picked up the tightly wrapped package and carried it outside; it weighed no more than a couple of pounds as she gently laid it down into the hole.

Covering it with fresh earth, she scattered pebbles around and knelt on the grass. Had there been any other choice? Whatever were they going to tell him when the time came?

About the Book. Children of The Plantation will be first published as an eBook and later as a paperback by Topsails Charter. As a special lead-in price (eBook) and a Thank You to my friends and followers it will be offered to you first for $0.99c for the first month. All I ask is (when you've bought your copy) for you to please write me a fair review. Thanks!

About the Author. Faith Mortimer was born in England. Her father was in the Royal Air Force and from the tender age of five, Faith learned the meaning of travel and living in different parts of our beautiful world. Faith now spends her time between England and Cyprus where she lives with her husband. She’s filled her life with different careers, Registered nurse, entrepreneur and writer. She loves the outdoors, acting and writing. She has written two other bestselling novels and a short story collection. Visit Faith Mortimer’s website http://www.faithmortimerauthor.com/for more information.

A Hint of Murder: The Doctor - Now Available

2011-09-15T22:16:00.000-07:00

I'm so excited to announce that “A Hint of Murder: The Doctor" is now available on Amazon US http://ow.ly/6DyWF and Amazon UK http://ow.ly/6DyXV

This is the second in the AHM series after "The Writer" which was released last month.

A Hint of Murder: The Doctor

Russell Morgan had it all; good looks, the perfect woman and a rewarding career as a well-respected physician. When the doctor’s patients start turning up dead, his world comes crashing down. Second in the "A Hint of Murder" series, this short story brings Detective John Lewis back in action to track down the killer.

A Sneak Peek:

Simon Bellville peered out of the window to the vibrant life beyond his reach. He was tired of being tired. The attempts to brighten his stay in the stark white room with flowers, books and pictures did not generate even the slimmest of smiles. At sixty-eight, it had been ten years since he was a successful executive for a major financial company. But, what good would all that money and success do for him now?

After a few moments, Simon began to drift off. Halfway between awake and asleep he heard the door open. At first he didn’t even bother to look over. What was the point? Most of the time, the nurses just did their business as if he wasn’t even there. He had his favorites though, and some were expert at making him feel at ease. When seconds turned to minutes, he wondered if there was still someone in the room.

With a strange mix of apprehension and concession, Simon turned toward the door. At first he only saw the pillow. Then, as it was lowered, he read the expression on the person’s face. His fear disappeared as quickly as it came, and he gazed up at the ceiling. As the pillow drew closer to his face Simon finally produced a smile.

***

Huddled close and chatting in low tones, the two young ladies didn’t seem to notice Dr. Russell Morgan arrive behind them at the nurses’ station. He didn’t need to eavesdrop to know what they were saying. He cleared his throat. Their surprised and flushed faces confirmed his suspicions.

Enjoying the ego boost, he flashed them a sparkling smile. “Good afternoon, ladies.”

Embarrassed, Jenny grabbed a stack of files and randomly flipped through them. Her wavy brown hair fell across her face, but she made no attempt to move it. Though she agreed with most of the female staff that the good doctor was handsome and charming, her desire to be a nurse drove her actions. “Good afternoon, Dr. Morgan. We were, uh, just getting ready for the next shift.”

Of course, Nicole didn’t make an effort to cover. “Hey, Dr. Morgan. How are you?”

“Good. Working hard.” A true statement when you looked at his reputation—though he never had an air of being exhausted or overworked. That’s probably why his patients loved him—that and his drop-dead good looks. At 6’2 he towered over most of the staff. His jet black hair was short and framed his boyish features to perfection. He reached over the counter and snagged a pen. “I can see you two are busy,” he said with a wry smile, “but before you go, could one of you look in on Mr. Bellville? He’s been pretty down. A visit from one of you lovely ladies would definitely cheer him up.”

“Don’t bother,” Tess announced walking up.

The head nurse had a tendency to suck the cheer from the room, but this was different. Dr. Morgan sensed it was something more than just giving the interns a hard time. “What’s wrong, Tess?” he asked.

“Simon Bellville is dead,” she said.

“What?” His glowing smile faded. “Are you sure?”

Placing a hand on one of her slightly oversized hips, Tess raised a brow and shot a condescending glare his way.

“That poor old man,” Nicole said, trying to sound convincing. Her bleached blonde ponytail swayed as she shook her head. Everyone knew she wasn’t exactly Florence Nightingale, but she still kept up appearances on occasion.

With a controlled sense of urgency, the three shadowed Tess down the hall and into Mr. Bellville’s room. Tess stood in the doorway and allowed the others to go forward to the patient’s bed. Taking hold of his wrist, Dr. Morgan checked for a pulse while the interns looked on. His chin dropped down and gave everyone the confirmation they anticipated. Losing a patient was always difficult, but this time the doctor was losing more than just a patient. He had grown fond of Simon and in fact was even closer to his daughter, Lori. “Ladies, please do me a favor and wait outside.”

“Of course, Doctor,” Jenny said for both of them. Jenny grabbed hold of her petite co-worker and headed for the door. As the two walked out, Dr. Morgan displayed his concern to Tess with a nervous gaze.

“I know what you’re going to say,” she said with a slight southern accent. It usually showed up when her emotions were high or when she spoke about her hometown of Atlanta. She strolled up to the bed and pointed with a quick head jerk. “That pillow was just how I found it.”

Lost in thought, Dr. Morgan stared at Simon’s half-covered face. His gaze swept across the bed to the side table where only a pool of water was left. The rest of the items were strewn about the floor like the aftermath of an earthquake.

“Looks like someone ripped his IV right out of his arm too,” Tess said. “Doctor, don’t you think we ought to call the police?”

The words entered his brain but failed to register. He was thinking of Lori and how he would deliver the devastating news about her father.

“Doctor,” Tess said again with greater force. After a moment, she added, “If you’re worried about hospital image—”

“No!” he finally snapped. “Tess you’re right. Please call the police. And obviously, we’ll have to contact his family. I’ll do that.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to, Dr. Morgan?”

“No. Thank you, Tess. I’ll take care of it.”

An hour later, the police were still questioning hospital staff. Dr. Morgan spoke to them first so he could continue to try to reach Lori. He recalled that first encounter when she came in after Simon collapsed at a restaurant. Neither acted on the obvious attraction between the two, but it became increasingly difficult over the eighteen months that Simon was in and out of the hospital. As their friendship grew, so did the rumors about their relationship. That put an even greater strain on her already damaged marriage.

“Any word?” Tess asked walking into the office.

“Not yet. Did you speak to the police?” asked Dr. Morgan.

“Yeah. They’re talking to Jenny right now.

“What did you tell them?”

“The truth.” Tess tucked her reddish-brown hair behind her ear. “I said that I went in to check on Mr. Bellville since I couldn’t find Jenny or Nicole.”

“They’re not so bad, Tess.”

“Yeah…for you. I’m the one that has to deal with the over-achiever and the slacker.”

“What’s wrong with over-achieving?” Dr. Morgan said, as he set his phone down. “Being a nurse is very important to Jenny.”

“I know. She’s only told me like a hundred times. Too bad that initiative doesn’t rub off on Nicole. I don’t even know why she’s here with all that money her family has.”

“That’s just it. She doesn’t have any. Her parents want her to be here, and they’ll cut her off if she doesn’t get through this internship. And, I don’t have to remind you how much money they’ve donated to this hospital, Tess.”

“Yeah, yeah. So, what happens next…with the police I mean?”

Dr. Morgan had grown accustomed to Tess’s candor. And though he considered her one of the best nurses he had ever worked with, at times she was like an annoying big sister. “Well, the police will get confirmation on the cause of death. Then…I’m not sure. I guess they’ll have to question his family too. As if Lori hasn’t been through enough lately.”

“So her divorce is final now?”

Feigning ignorance, Dr. Morgan gave a weak shrug. Then he averted the subject further by saying, “I just don’t know how she’s going to handle this.”

“Handle what?” The two looked over to see Lori standing in the doorway.

Available on:
Amazon US http://ow.ly/6DyWF
Amazon UK http://ow.ly/6DyXV
B&N http://ow.ly/6E9p1
Smashwords http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/91553