Monday, 25 April 2022

Double-Edged Sword (Renegade #4) by J.D.R. Hawkins

 

 

 



The Civil War has ended.

Confederate cavalryman, David Summers, returns home to Alabama, taking his new wife, Anna, with him. Upon arrival, he understands how much the war has changed him and has scarred his homeland. Faced with challenges of transition, he learns how to navigate his new world, along with the pain and trauma of his past. He is also forced to confront his foes, including Stephen Montgomery. Their hatred for one another inevitably boils over into a fierce confrontation, whereby David is arrested.

Will the jury believe his side of the story, even though he is an ex-Confederate? Or will he be hung for his crime?



Book Links:
Goodreads * Amazon.in * Amazon.com

Read and Excerpt from Double-Edged Sword


An owl hooted off in the distance. There came a rustling from within, and the bolt slid. The door slowly opened a crack. A girl peered out. She hesitated for a moment, then recognized her brother’s grinning face, and threw the door wide. Anna saw she was dressed in a nightgown, her long dark brown hair hanging loose.
“David!” she squealed, throwing herself on him. “You’re home! I can’t believe it!”
The siblings embraced, laughing.
“Rena,” he said after they’d held each other for a moment. “It’s mighty good to see you.” They hugged again, but then he remembered his manners. “Oh, this here’s Anna!”
She immediately embraced her. “Anna, I’m right happy to know you!”
“I’m happy to meet you too,” she replied, smiling.
Rena took hold of her hands and pulled her inside. I’ve so looked forward to this day!” David’s younger sister said. She hugged him once more and gave him a kiss on the cheek, then took hold of his hands and led him into the front room. “Ma!” she cried over her shoulder. “Josie!”
David chuckled, ecstatic with the reunion. “You look beautiful,” he remarked.
Rena snickered, suddenly conscious of her attire.
A door in the back room creaked. “What’s goin’ on out here? I thought I heard …” The woman stopped and stared wide-eyed at the three figures standing in the dark. “David!” she wailed, and ran to him.
He enveloped her in his arms.
“Oh, praise be!” she began sobbing. “My boy has come home at last!”
David held her tightly, struggling to contain his emotions while Anna looked on, overcome with sentiment. Rena crossed the room and lit a few candles. Now the sight was even more profound, because the expression on their mother’s face was heart-wrenching. Her eyes were pinched tight as tears streamed down her cheeks. He gave her a slight squeeze, released her, and saw that she seemed to have aged considerably since he last saw her.
“Rena! Go fetch your sister!” Caroline requested excitedly. “Oh, let me git a good look at you!” She stepped back, keeping her hands grasped tightly onto her son’s arms, then pulled him close and kissed his cheeks. A younger girl with long auburn hair emerged through a side door with Rena following behind.
“David!” she shrieked. She threw herself into his waiting arms.
The two hugged like frolicking bruins.
“You’re here! You’re truly here!” She held onto him for a solid minute before his mother protested.
“Now, Josie, give him a chance to breathe!”
She released him, and he snickered.
“Why, take a gander at you, Josie! You ain’t a li’l girl any longer. All of fifteen, now.”
Josie nodded, a big grin on her face. “And you’re an old feller, all of twenty!”
David laughed. “Reckon you have to beat the boys off with a stick!”
“No,” said Josie solemnly. “There ain’t too many boys my age left in these parts.”
Rena stood beside Anna, absorbing the spectacle. She took her hand and smiled at her.
Anna couldn’t help but smile back, even though she felt precarious and homesick.
“I’ve so much to tell you!” Josie exclaimed “We’ve so much to talk about!”
“First I want to introduce my bride,” David said. “Ma, Josie, this here’s Anna.” He turned to her and held out his hand, prompting her to take it.
“Mrs. Summers,” she said shyly, “Josie. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”
David’s mother looked at her for a moment, then smiled and embraced her. “Oh, my dear Anna.” She released her. “It’s right good to have you home.”
Josie hugged her as well. Standing back, she exclaimed, “I have a new sister!”
Everyone chuckled.
David glanced around the room, which seemed to be missing a few pieces of furniture. He looked at the mantle, and saw the clock his father had given his mother as a wedding present, along with his father’s portrait, but the photograph he’d had taken in Huntsville before he left for the army wasn’t beside it. He was about to ask where it was when his mother grasped his hand.
“Come with me, David. We have somethin’ to show you.”
She led him out back, and the young ladies followed. Two dogs ran up to greet them, sniffing at Anna’s skirts as she made her way through the unfamiliar dark. She knew they were the dogs David had told her about, Caleb and Si. The family trudged past neglected outbuildings. Chickens clucked inside the henhouse, alarmed by the invasion.
“Where are the pigs?” asked David.
“I’ll explain all that later.” Caroline led him up an incline to a little white cottage that was tucked before a thicket.
“Granny’s old house?” he asked.
“We fixed it up for you!” Josie declared. “‘Cause we knew you’d be comin’!”
The family entered the one-room dwelling, and Caroline lit a candle. In the glow, David saw a little table, two chairs, a five-drawer dresser with an attached mirror, and a double bed with a small nightstand beside it. Red-and-white checkered homespun curtains hung over each of the two windows.
Anna entered behind Rena and gasped. “You did all this for us?” she asked, her eyes welling up. She was far more exhausted than she had realized, and her emotions were soaring.
“We’ve been workin’ on it for the past month,” explained Josie.
Anna walked over and sat on the bed. It creaked in protest, but was firm, nevertheless. “I can’t wait to try this out!” she exclaimed.
The girls giggled.
“Oh! I didn’t mean …” Anna blushed.
David gave her a crooked grin. “Ma,” he said, turning toward her, “I know Joe Boy was stolen ‘cause we got your letters.”
“Yes, the soldiers took our horse, along with most of the livestock. It’s a miracle our letters got through,” Caroline stated. “A simple act of God, that’s what I believe.” She smiled. “And the postmaster, Mr. Ford, assisted, of course. Every time he saw a letter come from you, he stowed it so the Yankees wouldn’t have a chance to confiscate it. And he made sure our letters got up to you, but since then, they’ve been watchin’ us right close. How many did you receive?”
“Well, I got the one you sent to me in prison, and the one you mailed last summer, after I told you about my marriage to Anna. And I received one from Rena, and one from Josie while I was in prison.”
Caroline nodded wisely, piecing it together. “Those first three letters were sent in February.”
“They were? I didn’t git them till spring.”
“And I sent you cookies. Did you receive them?”
“No, ma’am. They were gone.”
“That figures,” Caroline grumbled. She threw a glance at Anna.
“What about Renegade?” Josie asked. “Did you bring him?”
“Sure did!” replied David with a grin. “Would you go fetch the wagon and take it around to the barn?”  
His little sister nodded and ran out the door.
Rena stepped toward him and took his hand. “We’re very proud of you,” she spoke melodically.
His heart fluttered with the sound of her lilting voice.
The newlyweds proceeded to talk about their trip, and soon, Josie returned.
“They got us a mule!” she announced.
“We brought other items for you as well,” informed Anna.
Caroline nodded, and discreetly covered a yawn, which sparked yawns from everyone else in the room. “She smiled. “It seems we’re all a bit tuckered out. Let us git some rest, and we’ll talk further in the mornin’. There’s food in the kitchen if y’all are hungry.”
“Thanks, Ma,” David replied.
After Caroline and her daughters hugged him, they walked back to the house. He turned to face Anna after closing the door.
“Well, this is nice, ain’t it?” He flashed a smile and sat down beside her. “And I can’t wait to try out this bed, either.” He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her tenderly.
They gazed into each other’s eyes.
“So, this was your grandmother’s cottage?” she asked.
“Yeah. She lived back here as long as I can remember. Jist her. Granddaddy died before I was born. She died here.”
Anna cringed. “In this bed?”
“Uh huh. Oh,” he said as he remembered. “I’d best go settle Renie and Ginger, and bring in the trunk. I’ll fetch us some vittles too.” He stood and strode toward the door. “I’ll be right back,” he promised as he went out, and closed the wooden slab door behind him.
Anna stood, brushed the wrinkles from her skirt, walked to the window, and peered out, watching her husband vanish into the darkness. She turned and absorbed the ambiance. It is lovely, she thought to herself, the perfect honeymoon cottage. She smiled, and investigated the tiny fireplace, running her hand across the roughhewn mantle, already making plans on how to decorate it.
She sank down onto the bed. Suddenly, she felt out of her element, and broke into a sweat. Could it be that David’s family members were behaving the way they were for his benefit only? What if they weren’t sincere, and considered her an intruder? Anna hoped with all her heart they would treasure her, but everything seemed so alien here. Perhaps, when they learned about another new family member they were about to acquire, they’d accept her. She lay back and placed her hand upon her stomach. David would need to know soon as well. This situation was only temporary; this was merely a visit. She would return home by year’s end, even if she had to take him away from his family permanently. Somehow, she would make it happen.


About the Author:
J.D.R. Hawkins is an Amazon, USA Today and Wall Street Journal bestselling, award-winning author. She is one of a few female Civil War authors, uniquely describing the front lines from a Confederate perspective. Her "Renegade Series" includes "A Beautiful Glittering Lie," winner of the 2013 John Esten Cooke Fiction Award and the 2012 B.R.A.G. Medallion. The sequel, "A Beckoning Hellfire," is an Amazon bestseller and winner of the 2022 B.R.A.G. Medallion. "A Rebel Among Us," the third book in the series, is the recipient of the 2017 John Esten Cooke Fiction Award and winner of the 2022 B.R.A.G. Medallion. Double-Edged Sword is the newly-published, fourth book in the series. These books, published by Westwood Books Publishing, LLC, tell the story of a family from north Alabama who experience immeasurable pain when their lives are dramatically changed by the war. Ms. Hawkins has also published a nonfiction book about the War Between the States, titled "Horses in Gray: Famous Confederate Warhorses," with Pelican Publishing.  She is a member of the United Daughters of the Confederacy, the International Women's Writing Guild, Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers, and Pikes Peak Writers. Ms. Hawkins is also an artist and a singer/songwriter.

JDR Hawkins on the Web:







Sunday, 24 April 2022

The True Purpose of Vines by Giovanna Siniscalchi

 

 

The Winemakers, Book One

 

Historical Romance

Date Published April 25, 2022

 

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"A headstrong Portuguese meets her match in the arrogant Englishman who threatens her beloved vineyards. Dive deep into Portugal's rich culture in this intoxicating story about wine and love."

 

Portugal, 1870

 

 A winemaker desperate to save her vineyards...

Julia Costa is the best winemaker in the Douro. When a greedy tradesman threatens the land her family has held for generations, Julia prepares to defend her legacy and independence by any means necessary.

 

The Englishman sent to uncover her secrets...

The last thing Griffin Maxwell wants is to waste time mired in a Portuguese backwater. Still, to guarantee a partnership with Oporto's largest trading firm, he agrees to travel up the Douro river and chase some reluctant debtor.

 

A meeting of two cultures...

Nothing prepared Griffin for the headstrong winemaker. Alluring, she tempts him into enjoying Portugal's vibrant tastes and is a threat to his carefully constructed plans. The arrogant Englishman arrived at Julia's lands, believing himself entitled to everything, including her heart. But how can she resist an attraction headier than a vintage?

 

An enemy too powerful to fight alone...

When a mysterious plague decimates Europe's vineyards, Griffin and Julia put differences aside to find a cure, blind-tasting their way into an intoxicating passion. But reality demands an answer: will they choose their ambitions or the love of a lifetime?



About the Author

Giovanna Siniscalchi chased narrative arcs and climax points in the Nasdaq for twelve long years working as an economist. Still, her romantic imagination was wasted in the financial markets, so she decided to put it to better use: write fiction. She is married and has two great kids. Her passions are eclectic, including reading, traveling, surfing, wine, and of course, historical romance.).

 

Contact Links

Website

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Purchase Links

Amazon

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Saturday, 23 April 2022

Rise of a Rebel by Christine Schulz

I am so excited that RISE OF A REBEL by Christine Schulz is available now and that I get to share the news!

If you haven’t yet heard about this wonderful book, be sure to check out all the details below.

This blitz also includes a giveaway for a $10 Amazon GC courtesy of Rockstar Book Tours. So if you’d like a chance to win, check out the giveaway info below.

 

About The Book:

Title: RISE OF A REBEL (NightFly series #2)

Author: Christine Schulz

Pub. Date: April 25, 2022

Publisher: Christine Schulz

Formats: Paperback, eBook

Pages: 233

Find it: GoodreadsAmazon, Kindle, B&NBookBub

 

A life for a life. That’s the deal I made with my father to save my best friend from the poisonous magic about to kill him.

With Davian Grymes brought to justice, I thought the memory-warping torture caused by Bliss would finally end. Unlucky for me, this disturbing nightmare is only just beginning.

My father is convinced a teenager named Colton Meyers has the power to destroy my family and take down NightFly Technologies. My payment for Ryker's life is to go against everything I believe in to make sure that never happens. Unfortunately, killing seemingly innocent kids isn't a skill I want to add to my list. What exactly is so special about Colton's magic that my lunatic father feels so threatened by it? Now it's my life on the line as I risk everything to save the boy from certain death. No one enjoys dealing with family drama, but this is taking things to the extreme.

Grab Book 1 DAWN OF A DEMON now!


Download the free prequel: Mixing Magic & Mayhem here! https://storyoriginapp.com/giveaways/bbbdc6c8-c6f2-11eb-9016-dff866887915

 

Excerpt:

Something rattled to my right. I snatched the bullet from my belt, whirled around, and launched the projectile at a garbage bin next to a set of front steps. The sleep powder erupted in a colorful explosion. The metal bin swayed, falling over with a loud crash, and rolled across the sidewalk.

The tabby cat should have been taking a nice nap. Instead, the feline leaped to my feet, a slight wobble in her step but otherwise unaffected by the sleep spell. Since I currently lacked the ability to use my own magic effectively, spelled objects apparently didn’t work very well either.

The rain washed the blue powder off her wet fur, revealing dark black and light gray stripes with thick curving bands that swirled around her torso. It reminded me of a marble cake, and that although I just ate, I was hungry again.

I scrubbed my hand through my hair, my thumping heartbeat slowly calming. “Get a grip, Zulli,” I reassured myself. “It’s just a stray cat.”

The feline started licking the remaining powder off her paw, and the emerald glare of her eyes slashed toward me.

“Stupid cat. Stop judging me. If you’d just gone through what I did, you’d have done the same thing.”

 

About Christine Schulz:

Christine is a pug loving foodie who has an unhealthy obsession with unicorns, and you'll definitely see bits of that shine through in her stories. As a young child, she would put her imagination to work, pretending to live in a fantasy world where she could fly, fight the bad guys, and save the world. Although she could never master the art of flying, she did manage to eventually put all those ideas down on paper and is currently working on two series: Black Sheep and NightFly.

Sign up for Christine’s Newsletter!

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Instagram | TikTok | Goodreads | Amazon | BookBub

 

Giveaway Details:

1 winner will receive a$10 Amazon GC courtesy of Rockstar Book Tours, International

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Thursday, 21 April 2022

Mouse Trap by Matt L Cost

Mouse Trap by Matt L Cost Banner

Mouse Trap

by Matt L Cost

April 4-29, 2022 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

Mouse Trap by Matt L Cost

When Clay Wolfe is hired to find out who tried to steal a mouse, he thought it was akin to a fireman getting a cat out of a tree. It wasn’t.

“Sometimes bad genes need to be stamped out and good ones need to be fostered,” Bridget Engel said. “There’s really no difference between mice and human beings when it comes to genes.” She wore a gray suit, and her blonde hair was cut short in the style that Hillary Clinton had made popular.

When Clay Wolfe rekindles an old romance, the summer is looking bright. It wasn’t.

He woke in the middle of the night, gathered his things, and slipped away. After Clay left, Victoria rose from the bed and went into the bathroom, carefully removed the condom from the Kleenex it was wrapped in and put it in a plastic baggie.

Who is the mysterious man who clubs Westy with a hammer and threatens the lives of everybody Clay Wolfe holds dear?

Now, Clive Miller was a fixer. He took care of problems that arose. Once given a task, his hands weren’t tied, and he was well-paid for his troubles. There were two simple rules. Eliminate the problem. Don’t draw attention.

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery/Thriller
Published by: Encircle Publications, LLC
Publication Date: April 13, 2022
Number of Pages: 312
ISBN: 1645993299 (ISBN13: 9781645993292)
Series: A Clay Wolfe / Port Essex Mystery Book 3
Purchase Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

Chapter 1:

Monday, July 6th

“Sometimes bad genes need to be stamped out and good ones need to be fostered,” Bridget Engel said. “There’s really no difference between mice and human beings when it comes to genes.” She wore a gray suit, and her blond hair was cut short in the style that Hillary Clinton had made popular.

Victoria Haas was careful to not let her fork drop to the plate and her mouth fall open in astonishment, not the expected response of ladies of power in business and society. Women who gaped did not drink the 2015 Chablis 1er Cru FĂ´rets for lunch in the swank private dining room of the exclusive Port Essex Harborside Hotel in the company of the CEO of Johnson Labs, one of the premier biomedical research companies in the U.S. and Maine’s third largest employer.

Victoria had been coming here since she could remember, while Engel had only moved to Port Essex some ten years earlier. Yet, she’d never known about this ornate oasis just off the main dining room. It appeared that this private room was reserved exclusively by Johnson for business functions and engagements.

What did Engel mean by stamped out, Victoria wondered? She’d brought up the subject in passing, asking how one could ensure that your baby was genetically gifted only to be somewhat taken aback by the abruptness of the answer. She bought some time taking a bit of the Cobb salad. Even though her ship had passed Engel’s at many political and official functions in the past years, this was the first time they’d met for a social engagement.

“How does one go about stamping out bad genes?” Victoria asked, taking a small sip of the chardonnay. She was also blonde, but was much more fashionably dressed, with a shirtwaist dress, dirndl skirt, Chanel slingbacks, and a string of pearls around her neck.

Engel was looking through the wall-size window into the main dining room, a window Victoria knew was mirrored on the other side. There were four tables in the room she was surveying, but only one occupied, by three men and a woman. This was the room that Victoria knew well, one that she’d eaten in countless times. It was one of the men at the table who’d caused Victoria to bring up the subject of babies. She’d known him since she was a little girl, even having had a fling with him after her senior year in high school, but she’d barely seen him since as their lives has led them in two different directions.

“It used to be easier,” Engel said, her attention drawn to the other room. “There was a time when the disabled, the poor, the inferior, and the promiscuous could be sterilized. Instead of having them grow up to be criminals filling our jails, or to let them starve out of their own imbecility, the United States used to prevent those who were manifestly unfit from continuing their kind.”

“Do you know those people?” Victoria nodded her head at the window.

“The two men with their backs to us work for my company,” Engel said.

Victoria nodded, taking another sip of the Chardonnay. She knew that Engel’s company, based nearby in East Essex, did genetic experiments on mice in an effort to eradicate disease, but she wasn’t quite sure where sterilization came in. The waiter approached and poured another scant inch of wine into their glasses.

“It seems that sterilization has long been out of favor,” Victoria said. “Perhaps there are other ways to…ensure that deficient genes are not passed on to one’s offspring?”

Engel turned from the view of the other room and focused on Victoria. “We’ve made great advances in the past few years. Soon, much disease will be a thing of the past.”

“That doesn’t take care of the slovenly or the stupid, though, now does it.”

“No, no it doesn’t.”

“You said something about fostering good genes?”

“Why are you asking?”

Victoria looked at the man facing her in the other room. He was the answer to something she’d been contemplating for some time now. She wasn’t getting any younger, and, for the past year, she had felt this emotional void, an emptiness only filled when she imagined bringing an extension of herself into this world, something larger than her work, her money, or anything she’d ever known.

“I’ve wondered about what it might be like to have a baby,” Victoria said.

“Tiresome,” Engel said, and the two women laughed.

“But truly,” Victoria said. “I have thoughts of becoming a mother.”

“I know the Haas family has impeccable genes and have had so for generations,” Engel said. “What of the father?”

“I haven’t chosen a father as of yet.”

“Does that mean you’re holding tryouts?” The two women looked at each before breaking into giggles.

“In a way, yes,” Victoria said. “I certainly don’t want my child to be average.”

“Or your husband.”

“I don’t believe I said that I was looking for a spouse.” Victoria’s tone changed from jest to business in a split second. “Just a baby.”

“Men can be a nuisance. How do you propose picking a father?”

“I have somebody in mind. I have had his background looked into—in all the usual ways. But if I wanted to do a DNA check on him, how would I go about it?”

The waiter opened the door, and Engel waved him away impatiently. “You could simply ask them to submit to a test. A swab from the inside of the cheek or a blood sample would do fine.”

“That might be a bit delicate.”

“He doesn’t know that he’s applying to be the father?” Engel asked.

Victoria blushed. “Not exactly. How about a hair?”

Engel shook her head. “You’d have to be sure to pull out the follicle and part of the scalp to be certain, and that would be noticeable.”

“How, then?”

“Are you…sexually active with him?”

“Not for nineteen years.”

Engel laughed. “I’m sure the poor dummkopf doesn’t stand a chance against a woman such as you. Tell you what? Why don’t you seduce the poor fool and bring me a sample of his semen? I can have people at the lab analyze it and let you know whether he’s worthy of being the father of your child or not.”

***

“We must first establish the need for utmost confidentiality as concerns any and all of our business dealings and any such information, trade secrets, intellectual property or any related knowledge you may be…exposed to as you go about your work for us.”

The legalese hung heavy in the air over the table in the fancy function room of the Harborside Hotel where they were eating. The clean-cut fellow with the five-thousand-dollar suit had uttered the words more as a threat than a statement, the other man, his duds no less expensive, nodding in rhythm almost as if listening to music. He must be the lawyer, Clay Wolfe thought, wishing they would get to the point, not that he was invited into Port Essex’s inner sanctum for a fine lunch every day, but still….

“Of course,” he replied. “That is a standard clause of my contract.”

“I have a, um, slightly more binding non-disclosure agreement that I’d like you to sign.”

The man had said that his name was Rex Bolton and that he was chief operating officer of Johnson Laboratories. On second glance, he was not as well manicured as Clay had originally thought. His sandy blond hair was tight on the sides but tousled on top, and lines creased his face suggesting worry rather than age.

“I don’t see why that would be a problem,” Clay said, nodding. He hadn’t recognized most of the dishes on the menu and had ordered a Cobb salad. The waiter came and went so quietly and with such self-effacing efficiency that he was almost invisible. Unlike the quite impressive Frederick Remington statue in the corner next to a large mirror that made the room seem bigger than it was.

There were two tables separating Clay and his business partner, Baylee Baker, from the two men from Johnson Laboratories. This was to provide the minimum six feet of social distancing in this time of Covid-19. Baylee was slender with legs that went on forever, a bit of bronze to her skin, and brown hair that matched her eyes. The words Real People were tattooed on the inside of her left forearm. The glass of white wine in front of her was nearly untouched, unlike the surf ’n’ turf, scallops and Angus tips, which she’d demolished, much to Clay’s amusement. The woman had an appetite.

The lawyer, with as yet no name, looked at Baylee. “Absolute confidentiality, Mr. Wolfe, is what we need and expect.”

“Miss Baker is my lead investigator and a partner in the firm,” Clay said. He took a sip of the expensive scotch that he sure hoped was going on someone else’s tab.

“Nonetheless, we must insist,” the lawyer said.

Clay leant back in his chair. His hands pressed lightly onto the elegant tablecloth. He ignored the lawyer and spoke directly to Bolton. “I could tell you that I won’t include her in the case,” he said. “But I’d be lying. If it’s a deal breaker, then I’m sorry.” He steepled his fingers under his chin, his cards played, ready to accept the outcome however it went.

“I’m sure that we can have Miss Baker sign the NDA as well,” Bolton said.

The lawyer reached down to the chair beside him, taking up two thick-stapled copies from a briefcase and sliding them across the dual tables. “Please sign where indicated.” It seems he’d been prepared for this eventuality. They didn’t appear to be men who were surprised by much.

“What do you know about Johnson Laboratories, Mr. Wolfe?” Bolton asked when they were done, the paperwork safely stashed back in the lawyer’s briefcase with copies for Clay and Baylee slipped into a thick envelope.

“They, you, employ quite a few people in the area,” Clay said. “You’ve got a complex in East Essex.” He shrugged. “Testing with mice or something like that.”

Bolton smiled, a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. “We’re the largest employer north of BIW with over a thousand employees. This includes over two hundred men and women with doctorates or other advanced degrees who investigate the genetic bases of cancer, disease, autoimmunity, and many other disorders. JOHNS is known for biomedical research that bridges translational and clinical contexts. We integrate mouse genetics and human genomics to understand the underlying cause of human health and disease. There have been nineteen Nobel Prizes associated with our work.”

“So, you do test with mice,” Baylee said.

Clay fought back a chuckle. That was about all he’d gotten out of the mumbo jumbo that Bolton had just spouted out, too.

“Yes, Miss Baker. As a matter of fact, we are the world’s supplier for over nine thousand strains of genetically defined mice.”

“That’s where all those rodents come from,” Baylee said.

“More importantly, they are mammals,” Bolton said. “Very similar to humans in many ways. We have even created a humanized mouse.”

“A humanized mouse?” Clay asked.

“Mouse models with human immune cell engraftment represent ground-breaking platforms to evaluate compounds to treat a variety of human diseases, from cancer and infectious diseases to allergies and inflammation.”

“Oh, I see,” Clay said. But he did not see at all. He did deem it best to not be an ignoramus when trying to land a case from a man in a five-thousand-dollar suit. “How about you tell us why you’re here and what you need from us?”

“We are worried that our research has been compromised,” Bolton said.

Clay nodded. “You must have your own security. Why us?”

Bolton looked at the lawyer, who said, “You understand that breaking the NDA could possibly be a treasonous offense, and that you could be prosecuted as a traitor to the United States of America.”

“You think the Russians or the Chinese are hacking you? Like they did with the Covid-19 vaccine? Because I’m sort of under the impression we should just be sharing that stuff, you know, if it’s going to save human lives.” Clay wondered, what could possibly be hacked in regard to mice?

“It’s more sensitive and delicate than you could imagine, Mr. Wolfe.” Bolton’s voice expressed exasperation.

“Perhaps I should get my lawyer to read through the NDA before I go any further,” Clay said. His lawyer was his grandpops, eighty-four years of age, still with a keen mind.

“That might be for the best,” Bolton said.

“What can you tell us about the case?” Baylee asked. “Without possibly compromising our freedom?”

“I like your directness, Miss Baker,” Bolton said. “Quite simply, somebody has been stealing mice.”

He’s worried that it’s an inside job, Clay thought. But stealing mice? It was quite a leap from that to treason. The mice must be quite special, possessing something so sensitive, that if he, Clay Wolfe, leaked, he could be arrested as a traitor and thrown into some place like Guantanamo without charges or trial. This was serious shit.

“And you suspect your own security team of being involved?” Clay asked.

“We don’t know who to suspect,” Bolton said. “But it is concerning.”

“I think before we get into the nuts and bolts of this that we’ll have our lawyer go over the NDA,” Clay said. “It shouldn’t take long. Perhaps we can get together tomorrow and move forward?”

“Time is of the essence, Mr. Wolfe,” Bolton said.

“Of course, I understand.”

The lawyer reached into his case and retrieved the NDA and slid it back across the table.

“One of our security team disappeared over the weekend,” Bolton said. “He was on the night shift for the fourth. Showed up to work. Was last seen about 2:00 AM. Never checked out. Never went home. Gone.”

***

Excerpt from Mouse Trap by Matt L Cost. Copyright 2022 by Matt L Cost. Reproduced with permission from Matt L Cost. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Matt L Cost

Matt Cost is the highly acclaimed, award-winning author of the Mainely Mystery series. The first book, Mainely Power, was selected as the Maine Humanities Council Read ME fiction book of 2020. This was followed by Mainely Fear, Mainely Money, and Mainely Angst. I Am Cuba: Fidel Castro and the Cuban Revolution was his first traditionally published novel. He had another historical released in August of 2021, Love in a Time of Hate. Wolfe Trap and Mind Trap were the first two in the Clay Wolfe Port Essex Trap series. Mouse Trap is the third in this series. Cost was a history major at Trinity College. He owned a mystery bookstore, a video store, and a gym, before serving a ten-year sentence as a junior high school teacher. In 2014 he was released and began writing. And that’s what he does. He writes histories and mysteries. Cost now lives in Brunswick, Maine, with his wife, Harper. There are four grown children: Brittany, Pearson, Miranda, and Ryan. A chocolate Lab and a basset hound round out the mix. He now spends his days at the computer, writing.

Catch Up With Matt:
www.mattcost.net
Goodreads
BookBub - @matthewcost
Instagram - @mlangdoncost
Twitter - @MattCost8
Facebook

 

 

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Monday, 18 April 2022

Protecting His Prince by Emily Carrington

 

 

LGBTQ Romantic Suspense

Date Published: April 29, 2022

Publisher: Changeling Press

 

Aaron has escaped his past with scars and strength. But when he is targeted again for his looks and his talent, his belief in the goodness of the world and the power of love are challenged.

Jason knows there’s something wrong with his husband, but Aaron won’t talk about it. Will Aaron’s refusal tear them apart? Can Jason keep his temper or will his need to protect Aaron destroy their love?

 

Warning: Jason and Aaron’s story deals with issues of PTSD, M/M rape, hate crimes, stalking, kidnapping, and torture. Jason and Aaron’s stories may be triggers for some readers.

 

Excerpt

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2022 Emily Carrington

 

Aaron stirred the soup and hummed, aware he was a little off key but not caring. No one was home, and his husband, Jason, said he liked Aaron’s not-quite-on-pitch humming because, according to Jason, it was “resonant and heartfelt.”

He was humming a song from the musical they’d seen about three months ago. It had been Jason’s birthday present for Aaron, and even though his birthday was in December, this musical was the one they both wanted to see.

Aaron’s last five presents for Jason had all been paintings. The walls of their bedroom were almost full. The last painting had been of Jason’s entire family, from his oldest brother, Christopher, all the way down to his youngest sibling.

Anniversaries got paintings. Birthdays got paintings. Aaron would have felt guilty about not being able to give more than his art except Jason honestly seemed to love each one. His delight was infectious, and Aaron was already planning what to paint him for their ten-year anniversary, which was coming up at the end of this year.

The kitchen was full of the smell of baking bread and bean soup. Aaron’s mouth watered as he idly stirred the soup to keep the beans near the bottom of the pot from burning. Jason should be home in a few minutes and then they could eat.

The front door to their little apartment they shared with another couple burst open, and Jason literally waltzed in, turning and holding his hands out as if he was dancing with an invisible partner. He was singing “Oh, What a Beautiful Morning” at close to full volume. Unlike Aaron’s humming, Jason was always perfectly on pitch.

Having Jason come in singing was slightly unusual, but dancing was another level of strange. Aaron found himself grinning in anticipation of something wonderful. He didn’t interrupt Jason’s song to ask and when Jason caught him by the waist and pulled him into the dance, he fell into easy step. They waltzed around the small kitchen, Jason leading.

When his husband stopped singing, they continued to dance. Aaron started to ask what had put such a spring in Jason’s step, but Jason kissed him, and Aaron went weak at the knees. He opened his mouth to Jason’s tongue, letting his lover explore. Jason tasted of coffee and something sweet, not quite chocolate.

There was a bubbling sound and Aaron turned toward the stove to stir the soup, having to let go of his lover to do so. He stirred and then tasted the concoction. It was excellent, if he did say so himself. He’d settled into cooking for the four of them: himself, Jason, and the couple they lived with. He’d been doing it for over nine years and his skills had improved.

Jason stepped up behind him and hugged him, resting his chin on Aaron’s shoulder. He smelled incredibly good, like summer heat and subtle cologne almost overshadowed by his shampoo. He smelled like Jason.

Like home.

“So?” Aaron asked as he turned off the burner under the pot. “What’s happened?”

“I got offered a job.”

Aaron frowned in confusion. He twisted in the circle of Jason’s arms and lifted his head slightly so he could meet Jason’s hazel eyed gaze. “But you love your middle school students. That’s not something every teacher can say.”

“Don’t you even want to hear where the job is?”

Still frowning, Aaron nodded.

“I’ve been offered a job in Colton, Pennsylvania.”

Aaron’s heartbeat picked up. Colton was the college town nearest to Marisburg. But then his excitement died. “You can’t take a lower paying job just to make me happy.”

“Who said it’s a lower paying job? I’m being offered the position as head of the math department at Colton University.”

Aaron gaped. “When did you apply?”

“I didn’t. Nearest I can figure is someone here works in Pennsylvania, or vice versa. Someone I know, maybe, or someone who’s…” He shrugged and a little of his enthusiasm faded. “Does it matter?”

 

 

About the Author

Emily Carrington is a multipublished author of male/male and transgender erotica. Seeking a world made of equality, she created SearchLight to live out her dreams. But even SearchLight has its problems, and Emily is looking forward to working all of these out with a host of characters from dragons and genies to psychic vampires.

Fantasy creatures not your thing? Emily has also created a contemporary romance world, called Sticks and Stones, where she explores being “different” in a small town.


Contact Links

Twitter: @CarringtonEmily

Facebook: @emily.carrington.370


Follow the Publisher on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter: @changelingpress


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Thursday, 14 April 2022

Murder, Sweet Murder by Eleanor Kuhns

Murder, Sweet Murder by Eleanor Kuhns Banner

Murder, Sweet Murder

by Eleanor Kuhns

April 11 - May 6, 2022 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

Murder, Sweet Murder by Eleanor Kuhns

Will Rees accompanies his wife to Boston to help clear her estranged father's name in this gripping mystery set in the early nineteenth century.

January, 1801. When Lydia's estranged father is accused of murder, Will Rees escorts her to Boston to uncover the truth. Marcus Farrell is believed to have murdered one of his workers, a boy from Jamaica where he owns a plantation. Marcus swears he's innocent. However, a scandal has been aroused by his refusal to answer questions and accusations he bribed officials.

As Will and Lydia investigate, Marcus's brother, Julian, is shot and killed. This time, all fingers point towards James Farrell, Lydia's brother. Is someone targeting the family? Were the family quarreling over the family businesses and someone lashed out? What's Marcus hiding and why won't he accept help?

With the Farrell family falling apart and their reputation in tatters, Will and Lydia must solve the murders soon. But will they succeed before the murderer strikes again?

Book Details:

Genre: Historical Mystery
Published by: Severn House Publishers
Publication Date: February 1st 2022
Number of Pages: 224
ISBN: 0727850091 (ISBN13: 9780727850096)
Series: Will Rees Mysteries #11
Purchase Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

After regarding Rees for several seconds, Mr Farrell extended his hand. Rees grasped it, painfully conscious of his rough hand, calloused by both farm work and weaving. ‘Please attend me in my office,’ Mr Farrell said. ‘We are expecting a few guests for dinner tonight so we will have little time to talk then.’ Turning, he strode away. Rees started to follow but, realizing that Lydia was not by his side, he turned back. She stood hesitantly by the table, her hands tightly clenched together. Rees glared at Mr Farrell’s back and then, reaching out, he pulled one of her hands through his elbow. Together they followed her father into his office.

As Farrell moved a stack of papers from the center of the desk to one side, Rees looked around. A large globe on a stand stood to the right of Farrell’s desk and one chair had been drawn up to the front. A seating area, with additional chairs, were arranged by the window that looked out upon the front garden. A table in the center held an intricately carved tray with a crystal decanter and several glasses. Shelves of books lined the wall behind and adjacent to the desk, on Rees’s right.

The room was chilly although the fire was burning. Newly laid, it had been lighted, no doubt by some anonymous servant.

Farrell looked up and his eyes rested on Lydia in surprise. Rees felt his wife shrink back, intimidated. He was not going to stand for that. He pulled a chair from the window grouping and placed it in front of the desk. She hesitated for a few seconds and then, lifting her chin defiantly, she sat down. Once she was seated, Rees lowered himself into the opposite chair. After one final dismissive glance at his daughter, Farrell looked at Rees.

‘So, you are a weaver.’

‘That is so,’ Rees said, adding politely, ‘I understand you are a merchant.’

Farrell smiled. ‘I see your wife has told you very little about me or my profession.’ Since responding in the affirmative seemed somehow disloyal to Lydia, Rees said nothing.

Farrell took a box from his desk drawer and opened it to extract a cigar. ‘Would you like a smoke?’

‘No thank you,’ Rees said.

‘Or a glass of rum? Or whiskey if that is your tipple.’ When Rees declined again, Farrell put away the cigars and walked to the fireplace to light a splint. The end of the cigar glowed red and the acrid scent of burning tobacco filled the room. Puffing, Farrell returned to his seat. ‘I suppose one could say I was a merchant. But I do so much more. I own a plantation as well as a fleet of ships that sail between Boston, the West Indies and Africa. In Jamaica they take on sugar and molasses which are returned to Boston. Some of it is transformed into rum in my distillery. I export the liquor overseas, both to England and to Africa where the proceeds are used to purchase slaves.’

Sick to his stomach, Rees glanced at Lydia. She was staring at her hands, her face flaming with shame. Although she had alluded to her father’s profession, she had not told him the half of it. She had not told him of her father’s pride in it. Rees understood why she hadn’t.

‘Most of the slaves are brought to the sugar plantation,’ Farrell continued, seemingly oblivious to his daughter’s distress, ‘but some are sold in the Southern states. And you needn’t look so shocked. Why that upstart Republican with his radical ideas, Mr Jefferson, owns slaves. And he may be the next President. I suppose you voted for him.’

Rees did not respond immediately. Although many of Mr Jefferson’s ideas were appealing, Rees had found in the end that he could not vote for a slave holder. Instead, he had voted for Mr Adams. But that gentleman had not placed; the election was a tie between Thomas Jefferson and Aaron Burr. Sent to the House for resolution, Jefferson had won by one vote.’ No,’ Rees said carefully, keeping his voice level with an effort, ‘I voted for his opponent.’

‘Well, that makes us kin then. Although you will meet a few slaves here in Boston, in this very house.’ He grinned and Rees thought of Morris and Bridget with their tinted skin. ‘But few, very few. Neither the Africans nor the Spanish Indians adapt well to this northern climate and they quickly die.’ This was said with indifference as though he spoke of a broken chair.

Farrell flicked a glance at his daughter and smiled. With a surge of anger, Rees realized that Farrell fully understood the effect his speech would have on her and was enjoying her misery. Rees gathered himself to rise from his chair. Lydia reached out and grasped his sleeve.

‘This is for Cordy,’ she whispered. Rees sat down again, his body stiff.

‘But you did not come to listen to me natter on about my profession,’ Farrell said, watching the byplay with interest. ‘Shall we discuss that ridiculous murder, the one of which I am accused?’

Rees looked into Lydia’s beseeching eyes and after a few seconds he relaxed into his seat. God forgive him, a part of him hoped Marcus Farrell was guilty.

‘Go on,’ Rees said coldly. Marcus smiled.

‘Permit me to save you both time and effort,’ he said. ‘I did not kill that boy.’

‘Then why do people think you did?’ Rees asked. Puffing furiously, and clearly unwilling to reply, Farrell took a turn around the room.

‘Did you know him?’ Lydia asked, her voice low and clear. ‘This Roark?’

Farrell stood up so abruptly his chair almost tipped over. ‘Yes, I knew him.’ He glanced at Rees. ‘We were seen, Roark and I, arguing down at Long Wharf.’

‘Arguing about what?’ Rees asked.

‘It is not important. He was a nobody.’ Farrell glared at Rees, daring him to persist. Rees waited, never removing his gaze from the other man. Sometimes silence made the best hammer. Finally, Farrell said angrily, ‘He wanted a rise in his wages. I said no. He disagreed. That was all there was to it.’

Rees glanced at Lydia and found her staring at him. He knew, and he suspected she did too, that her father had just lied to them.

***

Excerpt from Murder, Sweet Murder by Eleanor Kuhns. Copyright 2021 by Eleanor Kuhns. Reproduced with permission from Eleanor Kuhns. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Eleanor Kuhns

Eleanor Kuhns is the 2011 winner of the Mystery Writers of America/Minotaur first mystery novel. Murder, Sweet Murder is the eleventh mystery following the adventures of Rees and his wife. She transitioned to full time writing last year after a successful career spent in library service. Eleanor lives in upstate New York with her husband and dog.

Catch Up With Eleanor Kuhns:
www.Eleanor-Kuhns.com
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Twitter - @EleanorKuhns
Facebook - @writerkuhns

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Wednesday, 13 April 2022

Princess & Prejudice (Devgarh Royals #2) by Alisha Kay

 


It is a funny, passionate, second chance Indian romance by the winner of the Amazon KDP Pen to Publish Contest 2020.


A not-so-fairy-tale romance!

They say opposites attract, but when Yuvarajkumari Jayshree Singh, Princess of Devgarh, and Dr Aryan Sharma meet, it’s more like opposites combust.
He thinks she is a bratty and entitled princess, while she thinks he is an uptight pain-in-the-ass, who needs to have the stick surgically removed from his rather delectable posterior.
When Aryan’s sister gets engaged to Jessie’s brother, they are forced to declare a reluctant ceasefire.
But the hostilities don't cease. Instead, they erupt in an unexpected and unlikely gush of desire and longing.
With their families set to merge, Aryan and Jessie need to decide if his prejudice and her pride can be set aside long enough for the love they feel to blossom. Or will they spend eternity wondering if they'd missed their chance at happiness?

Book Links:
Goodreads * Amazon.in * Amazon.com


Read an excerpt from Princess & Prejudice

Chapter 1

JESSIE

“It wasn’t my fault!”
“It never is! Her Highness Jayshree Singh is never in the wrong. It’s always someone else’s fault,” ranted Dr Aryan Sharma, as he paced up and down the centre of the maze in my garden.
I picked a piece of lint off my red Banarasi silk sari and tried to ignore him.
He had taken his coat off in his rush to play the hero and had rolled his sleeves up at some point during this never-ending lecture. The Patek Phillipe that I had gifted him when he qualified as a paediatrician glinted on his wrist. I wondered if he had ever realised its true worth. 
Probably not, considering that I had convinced his sister - who was my best friend - to pretend that it was from her, and since Nivy still hadn’t made it to the big screen at that point, Aryan had believed her claim that it was the most real-looking fake Patek Phillipe that she had ever seen in Devgarh market. The fact that his sister had spent all her meagre savings on the watch ensured that her doting brother wore the watch proudly, even though he was morally opposed to fakes of any kind. Which was a good thing. If he knew that it wasn’t his sister’s meagre savings, but my more considerable ones that had paid for it, he’d probably fling it into the palace pond.
The watch suited him, I mused. It was gorgeous, almost a piece of art. Yet, it was strong and sturdy, and very, very reliable. Just like Dr Clueless himself.
It was difficult to take my eyes off his hands, beautifully shaped and strong, but sensitive. It was easy to picture him tenderly cupping a baby’s head with those hands, and even easier to imagine him cupping my breast. I shook my head to clear it, and looked away, wondering why you couldn’t find a good breeze right when you needed it. My face felt all flushed and hot.
Aryan was still going on about what a brat I was, and how he was sick and tired of my pranks. At that, I raised my hand like a student in front of a teacher, knowing very well that it would infuriate him.
“What?” Aryan barked, stopping mid-pace with his hands on his hips.
I took a moment to appreciate the sheer beauty of him in his light blue formal shirt, tie askew and sleeves rolled up roughly, all six feet of gorgeousness glaring at me fiercely. Then I relegated that moment to the back of my mind and proceeded to infuriate him even more.
“Would you really classify my actions as a prank?” I asked politely.
He notched up the heat level on his glare. If it got any hotter, I’d turn into sheesh kebab.
“Wouldn’t you?” 
I pretended to think for a second and then shook my head.
“Not really. Pranks are for kids. This was more like a happy accident,” I said, with a sweet smile.
It was. A very happy accident that sent his girlfriend, Dr Arshia Thakkar, flying into the big fountain in the centre of the palace courtyard. Happy for me, at least. I managed to wipe that smug smile off her face for all of five glorious minutes, until Aryan rushed to her rescue, carrying her out of the fountain like a Bollywood hero. I was hoping he’d slip and fall on his ass, but the fates had never favoured me before. So why would they change the habits of a lifetime now?
I was forced to watch him set her down tenderly on a bench and coo over her until Munshi Ji led her into the palace for a hot bath and change of clothes. I had rolled my eyes at the drama. Hot bath, indeed. This wasn’t fricking Siberia. It was Devgarh, and we were in the middle of one of the hottest summers ever. The twit should have been happy at the dunking, instead of acting as if she nearly drowned in what amounted to exactly one and a half buckets of water.
Besides, I didn’t know why he was blaming me for it.
“Why exactly are you blaming me for your girlfriend’s clumsiness?”
I watched with interest as he gritted his teeth and took a deep breath to calm down. An effort that failed miserably.
“Arshia is not clumsy,” he yelled.
“You mean she was trying to swim the length of that fountain for fun?”
“Your dog pushed her in,” he accused, pointing a finger at me.
I stood up slowly and gathered the folds of my sari around me as gracefully as I could. Then I walked up to him and gently pulled his finger down.
“Don’t yell at me, Dr Sharma,” I said softly.
When he opened his mouth to yell some more, I put a finger over his lips.
“Zombie is not my dog. He belongs to Veer. And he didn’t push Arshia in. She tripped and fell into the fountain when she was running around like a headless chicken, for reasons best known to her.”

About the Author:
Alisha Kay writes funny, exciting and steamy stories, with spunky heroines who can rescue themselves, and hot, woke heroes who find such independence irresistible.
The first book in The Devgarh Royals series, The Maharaja’s Fake FiancĂ©e, won the grand prize at the Amazon KDP Pen to Publish Contest 2020.


Alisha on the Web:
Instagram * Twitter 

 

Tuesday, 12 April 2022

Scarlett's Web by Bryce McKennedy

 

New Adult Romance

Date Published 05-03-2021

  

Scarlett Camden met her Prince Charming-Harvard bound, Michael, the first week of her sophomore year. Her life went from less than mediocre to something resembling epic. With her new best friend, Jade's help, she managed to transform from the quiet girl no one remembered to the most-envied girl at their private school, Philips Kimball Academy. But things took unexpected turns.

Looks were more than deceiving. Life became unpredictable and unchangeable.

What happened behind closed doors and away from intrusive eyes was anything but the fairytale everyone assumed she was living.

Years later, her past collides with her present life. Once again, her world gets thrown into a whirlwind filled with painful memories, unforgivable crimes of lust, and the loss of hope. Devastation and regrets.

This is the story of first love and loss. Lies and lust weaved into a web too big to escape.

Will Scarlett's web of lies keep her terminally trapped by her committed sins when she was practically a child, or will forgiveness grant her a happy ever ending filled?

 

 

About the Author

Bree McKennedy is the pseudonym of a published author that wanted to break out of the cookie cutter world she was writing in. After completing a BDSM trilogy and being begged to continue on, she had to take a mental break. She looked around and saw misery and good intentions that led people straight to the gates of hell. After waking up in the middle of the night, from a dream, the character of Addison evolved.

Bree is happily married to a wonderful and loving man. They have two children and an overly mothering cat. She spends her days with psychiatric patients among the gamut. Her first love will always be healing the sick, nurturing the wounded and showing compassion in the field of nursing. At night, she taps keys on a keyboard or puts a pen to paper creating story lines that will pull someone in on an emotional level.

Bree is a self-proclaimed "lover of the dark and tragic."


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Purchase Link

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The American Outsider by Homa Pourasgari

  "A charming read with characters who come to life on the page—and who live for a cause whose urgency shines through the story." ...