Kindred Spirit by Julia Firlotte Book Tour! @SilverDaggerBookTours #KindredSpirit @JuliaFirlotteAuthor @juliafirlotte

Mankind’s day of reckoning is coming; A young Wicca must learn to harness the elements and reconcile old friendships if she is to save mankind from Mother Nature’s wrath.

Kindred Spirit

by Julia Firlotte

Genre

 SciFi Dystopian Romance

A plague for a plague, to make the human race pay
For the destruction of a planet which was not theirs to slay

Mankind’s day of reckoning is coming and all hopes lie on the shoulders of one young Wicca. Only Cady Leigh can harness the elements and reconcile old friendships if she is to save mankind from Mother Nature’s wrath.

Set three hundred years in the future, the impact of global warming has divided the nation into two opposing societies. Cady Leigh’s family are Wiccans and the healers of their underground traditionalist community, so when a craft from the opposing technologist’s society crashes near her home, Cady saves a wounded technologist teenager Drew Kemp and brings him to live with her family.

Like all technologists, Drew has a nanochip implant and uses it to spy on the traditionalist villagers to root out the terrorists who attack the metropolis he calls home. However, he falls in love with the independent and spirited young Wicca, Cady. When he reveals the truth to her, she feels betrayed and rejects him, so he returns to his city alone.

Some years later, due to the damage inflicted on the Earth by humans, mother nature unleashes her displeasure on mankind in the form of a dangerous virus. Passionate about healing, Cady travels to the technologist’s city in search for a cure. But in a world of science and fact, Cady’s Wiccan roots start to reveal themselves at the worst time and her paranormal abilities to harness the elements evokes fear and oppression in the technologists around her.
When Cady discovers her abilities are more significant, that she is in fact the final hope to redeem mankind, she must turn to Drew to help her navigate this new world and find a cure.

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‘I don’t need to ask for their permission, Cady. I am Elder in charge at this council, and you belong to me. My answer is clear. It will always be no. You may not leave. And tomorrow, you’ll answer only to me and become my wife. So, go home, prepare your gown and your apology. You are dismissed.’

My mouth drops open, but they don’t get to see my indignation as the door clicks shut in my face, leaving me alone in the dark tunnel without my candle. With the thick door closed completely shut, I can no longer hear any of the conversations from inside, so I turn and drag my feet in the direction of home, stumbling a little in the pitch blackness.

I don’t understand what they were talking about. When I first arrived, someone mentioned hurting women and children, but I don’t think they meant the villagers. That sits very wrongly with me.

I feel like the tunnel walls are moving, closing in on me from all sides, and I almost trip on an uneven part of the ground, so I stop, taking lungful after lungful of musky air and resting my back against the wall.

‘I’m done,’ I whisper to myself, alone in the dark, ‘I will never be used as a pawn in the games of men.’ I close my eyes and exhale, fighting the swimming sensation as pressure builds up inside my head. It takes a minute or two, but when I reopen my eyes, with my resolution now set and my plan forming rapidly in my head, my way seems clearer, not just my path in the darkness, but my route to the dim light of the communal corridors I can now see up ahead. A tension in my chest is growing, like a strength inside and fighting to be freed.

I just know now what I have to do. My journey is set.

I raise my wooden plate in front of me, hovering my hand over the extinguished candle in the middle.

I close my eyes and pull the energy from the earth surrounding me, and when I open them, the warmth I feel in the centre of my palm is real, emanating from the glow of light now burning in the centre of the plate. 

I’ve never done that before, light a candle with just my thoughts, but I somehow just knew that at this moment, when I needed it, I would be able to.

After a lifetime of reading romance novels, Julia Firlotte started writing her own novels in 2018. As soon as she started, she knew she'd found her passion.

Julia is inspired by the world around her, often coming up with the opening scenes of a novel and the characters in them and then later developing a plot line. Julia's stories always have a focus on the role trust plays in a relationship and the twists and turns love takes when this is brought into question.

Julia is also a romance blogger and reviews books on her website.

Her favourite authors are Jaine Diamond, Sylvia Day, Chrystal Kaswell, EL James and Kendall Ryan.

Please do subscribe to her mailing list on her website and be so kind as to leave reviews. As a self funded / self published author, the role readers play in supporting new authors is crucial to allowing them to write more books and reader support is valued above all else.

When she's not writing, reading, blogging or editing, Julia works at her day job in Logistics, shipping other people's books all over the world. Julia is married with two children and five fur babies and lives in West Sussex, Southern England.  

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Act of God Book 1: In the Beginning by Jan Byron Strogh Book Tour! #ActOfGod #InTheBeginning @JanByronStrogh @SilverDaggerBookTours

What could happen if climate change forced humanity to find a new home? 

To make the journey we must leave behind our most cherished beliefs and hatreds and have faith that God will find us again in the stars.

Act of God

Book 1: In the Beginning

By Jan Byron Strogh

Genre

Science Fiction, Space Opera

Earth is facing a coming ice age. Humanity has marshalled its technology and resources in an attempt to delay the great cold; a diversion necessary to maintain hope for the people. But some few know the truth. There is little hope left on Earth. But there may still be hope in the stars.

Michael, ward of the church since childhood is summoned for humanity's most ambitious and secret undertaking. Shepard the human race to a new home.

Finished construction, 240 million kilometres from the sun is the Ark. The ship designed to carry one half million souls in suspended animation to a new world.

But the mission of the Ark is more than simply saving the human species. Its creator, the New Unified Church must save the human spirit and accomplish what humanity never attempted; bring together the religions of the world and expunge the ancient hatreds that dominate doctrine.

But the cost to the church will be its very existence. In order to unify, all agree that the Ark must not carry the symbols, books or even the knowledge of any of the old religions. To survive, humanity must lose God and have faith that God will find them in the stars. 

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It felt like no time at all had passed when Michael woke again. This time the lights in the medical bay were bright. His arms no longer felt like paper weights and the twitching was gone. As predicted, he was a bit hungry. “Hello,” he called again, sitting up on his elbows.

He looked around. The med bay looked stark and barren, and he could no longer see the panel on the wall. His was the only suspension berth in the room.

Deborah appeared from behind the berth. She smiled but looked tired and a bit haggard. “Is something wrong?” were the first words out of his mouth.

“Nothing is wrong,” she replied. “I knew you would start asking questions. That’s why I am still here, long after my shift was over. I must look like crap.”  She pulled a chair up along side his berth and handed him a closed flask. “Here, drink this while I give you a status report.”  He flipped open the lid of the flask and brought it to his nose. He thought he could smell vegetable soup. 

“What’s this?” he queried. “It smells like vegetable soup.”

“Very good. It is vegetable soup. Now eat,” she replied firmly.

He began to sip the liquid as she spoke. “Michael, I was not completely happy with your blood results. Your hormones are slightly elevated. I have moved you to a private room. I want to keep you here for another day of rest. There’s nothing to worry about, I am just being cautious.”

“I feel fine, can I at least get out of this tube?”

“No not yet. I don’t want any physical stress on you at the moment. I want you to finish your soup now and rest. Now, Michael, promise me you’re not going to be a difficult patient,” she pleaded.

“OK,” he conceded. “If I can’t move, how about sending one of the officers here for me to ask a few questions.” 

“Out of the question!  I have asked you to rest and you can’t rest if you’re being a commander. You know the dangers of reanimation sickness. I am not going to allow anything that might possibly upset you.”

“But you said everything was going great. What can it hurt to speak to an officer?” 

“Everything is going great. But what if the officer I send tells you that some, electro do dad, has shorted out? Even if it’s totally routine and easy to fix you might start giving orders and taking charge. I want you to rest,” she commanded.

 “Alright, alright,” he gave in, “can I at least ask what star system we’re in?” 

“Oh, so now I’m an asrto-navigator, is that it,” she complained jokingly. “You’re going to get at least one more day of rest and another blood test before I allow you anything. Is that clear! Now everything is just fine.”

But everything was not fine, and she knew it. She needed to keep up her act. She needed him as strong and rested as possible before telling him the truth; that everything was far, far, from fine.        

A graduate in computer science and electronics, Jan Byron “J.B.” Strogh has had a successful career in the tech sector. Strogh is interested in writing about the pattern of evolution manifest in both humanity and machine. 

The series Act of God is based in science and contemplates the long history of human spirituality and how the two must some day converge.

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Hands On Homicide (Massage and Murder Mysteries) by Sarah Hualde Book Tour!

 

About Hands On Homicide

 

  Hands On Homicide (Massage and Murder Mysteries)

Cozy Mystery

1st in Series Setting

  California Publisher 

‏ ‎ Indie Christian Writers (April 2, 2024)

Paperback 

‏ 325 pages

ISBN-10 ‏ 

 ‎ 1736756672

ISBN-13 ‏ 

978-1736756676 

  Digital ASIN ‏  

‎ B0CW1GC6R9 

  Audiobook 

ASIN B0D4PDY6F9 

 

Almost dying left Corky with a little something extra… The ability 

to see secrets with a single touch.

Not the best gift for a professional masseuse.

In the bustling town where faith and fortitude collide, Corky's life takes an unforeseen turn after a near-fatal incident leaves her with a bewildering gift. 

Hands On Homicide invites readers into a world where the ordinary becomes extraordinary, and a touch can reveal the deepest secrets. This first installment in The Massage and Murder Mystery Series unveils a tale of suspense, faith, and a puzzle that only a strong female character can solve.

Corky, a professional masseuse with a heart as big as her dreams, finds herself entangled in a mystery far beyond the confines of her massage table. After surviving an attack that should have ended her life, she awakens with a peculiar ability: the power to see people's secrets through a mere touch. 

This gift, however, is more of a curse in her line of work, plunging her into a world of Christian mystery and suspense where every client is a suspect, and every touch brings her closer to danger.

 

Determined to uncover the truth behind her attack and the mysteries that follow, Corky, with the unwavering support of her best friend Stella, steps into the role of an unlikely detective. Together, they embark on a journey through the shadows of their town, where faith is tested, and the power of friendship shines bright. As Corky hones her abilities, she faces challenges that question her beliefs, her courage, and her resolve.

Join Corky as she navigates this gripping Christian cozy mystery with a superpower twist. Her journey is fraught with danger, divine interventions, and a dash of humor that lightens the heart amidst the darkest clues. Perfect for fans of clean mystery series who crave suspense with a soulful touch, Hands On Homicide is a must-read that promises to keep you hooked till the very end.

About Sarah Hualde

Sarah lives in California, in a home that brings her happiness and hay fever. She loves God, loves her family, and loves freshly brewed coffee. She has a husband who cooks, a son who stop animates, a daughter who loves animals, a dog that follows her everywhere, and a turtle who scowls at her condescendingly.

Her mother raised her on Mary Higgins Clark, Diane Mott Davidson, and Remington Steele. Her grandmother shared True Crime stories with her as they plotted how to get away with the perfect murder. It's no surprise that Sarah became an award-winning spinner of suspenseful tales brimming with quirky characters. Mysteries are in her blood. Not that she could survive one of her own stories. She confesses, "I'd be snuffed out by chapter two."

Join Sarah’s Super Sleuth Squad and follow her on YouTube for behind-the-scenes insider info. 

 Super Squad Newsletter https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/g1k6r0 

 Website

www.sarahhualde.com 

BookBub 

https://www.bookbub.com/profile/sarah-hualde

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

YouTube https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCK9ywmqk_2k-mEssZMkEvBQ 

Twitter 

https://x.com/Sthecoffeejedi 

 Purchase Links 

Amazon – Kobo – B&N - Sarah Hualde Audiobooks - 

TOUR PARTICIPANTS

November 13 – Jody’s Bookish Haven – SPOTLIGHT

November 13 – Baroness Book Trove – CHARACTER INTERVIEW

November 14 – Angel’s Book Nook – AUTHOR INTERVIEW

November 14 – Reading Is My SuperPower – REVIEW

November 15 – Books, Ramblings, and Tea – SPOTLIGHT

November 16 – Escape With Dollycas Into A Good Book – SPOTLIGHT

November 17 – Sapphyria’s Book Reviews – SPOTLIGHT

November 18 – Deal Sharing Aunt – AUTHOR INTERVIEW

November 19 – Christy’s Cozy Corners – AUTHOR INTERVIEW

November 20 – Maureen’s Musings – SPOTLIGHT

November 21 – Cassidy’s Bookshelves – SPOTLIGHT

November 22 – Ruff Drafts – SPOTLIGHT

November 23 – Boys’ Mom Reads! – REVIEW

November 24 – FUONLYKNEW – SPOTLIGHT

November 24 – StoreyBook Reviews – REVIEW

November 25 – Frugal Freelancer – CHARACTER INTERVIEW

November 25 – Celticlady’s Reviews – SPOTLIGHT

November 26 – Novels Alive – REVIEW Alive – REVIEW 

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20 ebook copies of Hands On Homicide (Massage and Murder

 Mysteries) by Sarah Hualde via Bookfunnel/StoryOrigin

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The Revenge Pact by Liz Mistry Blog Tour!

 

The Revenge Pact

Tommy and Markie Jones are found dead at the side of a main road in Scotland.

TWO RIVALS

Detectives Jazzy Solanki and Annie McQueen are on the scene where the bodies are identified

as the nephews of Jimmy Nails, head of a notable gang in Glasgow. The turf war between the gangs of Glasgow and Edinburgh

has existed for years, but these murders are seen as an escalation in violence.

ONE UNFORGIVABLE BETRAYAL

As the investigation unfolds, there’s suspicion about a leak within the police force,

and to her dismay Jazzy is asked to keep a watchful eye on someone close to her.

With distrust mounting on all sides, can the pair uncover the truth before someone else is killed?

Purchase Links

Amazon UK

Amazon US

Author Bio

Liz Mistry moved to West Yorkshire in the late 1980s. Her gritty crime fiction police procedural novels set in Bradford embrace the city she describes as ‘Warm, Rich and Fearless’ whilst exploring the darkness that lurks beneath. 

Yet, her heart remains in Scotland, where childhood tales of bogey men, Bible John and grey lady ghosts fed her imagination.

Her latest work, The Solanki and McQueen crime series is set around West Lothian, where she uses the distinctive landscape, historic heritage and Scottish culture as a backdrop to her gritty yet often humorous stories.

Struggling with clinical depression and anxiety for many years, Liz often includes mental health themes in her writing. She credits her MA in Creative Writing from Leeds Trinity University with helping her find a way of using her writing to navigate her ongoing mental health struggles. The synergy been creative and academic writing led Liz to complete a doctorate in creative writing researching the importance of representation of marginalised groups within the genre she loves.

Her husband, three children and huge extended British Indian family are a constant support to her. In her spare time, Liz loves visiting the varied Scottish and Yorkshire landscape, travelling, listening to music, reading and blogging about all things crime fiction on her website blog, The Crime Warp.

Social Media Links 

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 lizmistry.com/

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Burn This Night by Alex Kenna Book Tour!

The Kate Myles Detective Series

Told in alternating timelines, this gripping mystery about a PI and her quest for answers is full of twists and turns, perfect for fans of Allison Brennan and Gytha Lodge.

Struggling private investigator Kate Myles is shattered to learn her late father isn’t her biological dad. She’s still reeling when she discovers that an unknown distant relative is the prime suspect in a decades-old murder investigation. Trying to convince her to take on the case for free, an old colleague recommends her as an investigator for a recent arson murder in the same small town.

After giving up on a failed acting career, Abby Coburn is starting over as a promising social work student. With her life on the right track, she’s determined to help her brother, Jacob, whose meth addiction triggered a psychotic break and descent into crime. But when Abby dies in a fire that kills two other people and destroys part of the town, the police immediately suspect Jacob.

As the Coburn family grapples with the tragedy, Kate begins unraveling the cold case but finds herself caught in the middle of an emotional minefield. Pretty soon, she discovers that this town is full of dark secrets, and as she comes closer and closer to figuring out the truth, Kate must solve both murders before she becomes the next victim.

Praise for Burn This Night:

"The twists keep coming in this devilish PI mystery . . . Lisa Unger fans will devour this."
~ Publishers Weekly

"Solid, heartfelt spadework into an alarming range of graves."
~ Kirkus Reviews

"A true page turner . . . Full of twists, turns, and suspects."
~ Book Review Crew

"Burn This Night is a fast-paced thriller that masterfully utilizes alternating perspectives to tell an absorbing, character-driven mystery. This is an electrifying read that had me engaged and on the edge of my seat until the very end!"
~ Elle Grawl, Amazon Charts bestselling author of One of Those Faces and What Still Burns

"An absorbing read told from multiple layered perspectives, Kenna ranges from finely observed domestic scenes to adept portrayals of grimy addicts living on the ragged edge. Burn This Night is smart and satisfying."
~ Adam Plantinga, author of The Ascent

"Burn This Night is an utterly absorbing mystery. Alex Kenna skillfully weaves a tale of two women who both face emotional and physical danger as they fight for truth and family love. Kenna masterfully draws the reader into the dark exploration of the secrets hidden in small towns and the depths some will go to hide the truth. With fiendishly smart dialogue, a captivating setting and a plot that keeps you on the edge of your seat, Burn This Night is absolutely fantastic!"
~ Elise Hart Kipness, author of Lights Out

"A dark, lyrical crime novel, Burn This Night weaves a complex and twisty spell about addiction, family ties, and how sins of the past can't stay buried. Kate Myles is a great addition to LA's canon of troubled PIs—real, flawed, smart, and very human—and I can't wait to see what's next for her."
~ Halley Sutton, USA Today bestselling author of The Hurricane Blonde

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery/Thriller - Private Detective
Published by: Crooked Lane
Publication Date: November 12, 2024
Number of Pages: 256
ISBN: 9781639109371 (ISBN10: 1639109374)
Series: Kate Myles private detective series, 2
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | Penguin Random House Books

Read an excerpt:

PROLOGUE

Eight Months Ago—Grace

My eyes shot open when I heard the yelping. Barney was going to wake the baby. I dove toward the old dog, grabbed his snout, and held it closed with both hands. “Shh,” I pleaded.

I lowered one hand and rubbed Barney’s back, trying to calm him. He let out a whine, and like clockwork, Liam started to cry. I closed my eyes, sucked in a deep breath, and braced myself for another late-night nursing session. My body felt heavy with milk and stress and exhaustion.

Carefully, I scooped up the howling baby, carried him over to the rocking chair, and lifted my T shirt to feed him. Liam quieted down and nestled against me. I sniffed his hair and stroked his cheek as we rocked back and forth. Part of me wanted to stay like this all night. But a bigger part of me longed to be under the covers, passed out in a warm oblivion.

I heard the shower turn on down the hall. Ted must be back from serving his warrant. A few months ago, he’d gotten smart with a lieutenant, who then started feeding him late-night assignments. These frequent absences were brutal now that I was back from maternity leave and needed sleep to function at work.

Barney whined again and clawed at the bedroom door. Clutching Liam, I rose to let the dog out of the room.

I looked down at the baby, who was asleep and making little catlike snores. With slow, deliberate steps, I made my way toward the crib and lowered him until his back rested against the fabric. But the change in angle caused his eyes to open and his lungs to inflate. Then came the cry—and Barney ran back to the bedroom, joining Liam in a horrible wailing duet. I reached out toward the dog and felt wet fur. Damn it—Barney must have peed in the house. Hot tears ran down my cheeks. What I wouldn’t give for one night’s sleep.

The door opened and Ted walked in with a towel around his waist. “I need help,” I snapped.

“What?” asked Ted, surprised by my tone.

My eyes were closed, and I was crying. But Ted couldn’t see that in the dark. He just sensed the anger in my voice. I knew it wasn’t his fault that the baby wouldn’t sleep, that the dog couldn’t hold it, and that his boss was a jerk. But I’d reached my limit, and Ted was the only living being in earshot who understood human language.

“Barney peed in the house. Take Liam so I can let the dog out before he does it again. Just try to get him back to sleep.” I placed the screaming, wriggling infant in Ted’s arms before either of them could protest.

Flipping on the hall light, I made my way to the kitchen. Barney scampered ahead of me, spinning in circles. I threw on Ted’s faded hoodie. It reeked of old sweat, but I was too tired to care. I hooked Barney’s leash to his collar, and bracing myself for the cold, I unlocked the back door and stepped outside.

The Santa Anas blew hard, and I shivered as cold air soaked through the hoodie’s weave. I could hear the Jeffrey pines rustle in the wind. Thrusting my hands into the central pocket, I rubbed them together for warmth.

A smoky odor hung in the air—maybe the residue of a neighbor’s barbecue dinner. But the wind should have blown away the scent by now.

Barney tugged at his leash. I let him drag me toward the street. Now that we were outside, he wouldn’t be satisfied without a walk, and it might clear my head as well.

The sky was lighter than I’d expected. Idlewood doesn’t have streetlights. It’s a conscious decision to preserve the log-cabins-in-the-woods feel of the place. Darkness adds to the storybook charm, and it can be hard to find your way on moonless nights. But the sky had an orange-gray glow that reminded me of LA smog. Maybe it was later than I thought, almost morning.

Barney tugged on his leash, half-dragging me up the road toward the intersection. He seemed agitated, and I wondered what had gotten into him. As we passed the Hernandez’s place, our footsteps activated the motion sensor, and the automatic light above their garage snapped on with an electric hum.

I noticed something floating in the air. Tiny particles, like gray snow or dryer lint. The flecks danced in the air, and Barney snapped at one as it fluttered toward his jaws. The smell of smoke was growing stronger.

Oh my god.

Clutching Barney’s leash, I ran the rest of the way to the cross street, which cut straight to the mountain. High in the pines, I saw an orange glow—luminous against the dark sky. My vision tunneled, and all I could see was the fire on the hillside. The light was near Abby’s cabin. But I couldn’t tell how near.

I grabbed my phone and scanned my recent calls, but it had been weeks since I’d spoken to my sister, and her name didn’t pop up. I pulled up my contact list and clicked on her name. After four rings, a cheerful recording prompted me to leave a message. Maybe she’s already fled. No, Abby would’ve called if she were awake. She might hate me, but she’d warn me about a wildfire.

I called back, praying that her cell wasn’t on silent. Come on Abby, answer the phone. When I heard the prerecorded message again, I started to panic. I left a voicemail: “Abby, it’s Grace. There’s a fire by your cabin—you need to leave now!”

The orange glow was getting bigger as the Santa Anas blew the flames toward Idlewood. It was how I’d always imagined an erupting volcano would look, with lava flowing down its sides. I called Abby a third time, cursing under my breath. Across the street, a door opened, and an old man stepped outside, holding a little white dog. “There’s a fire!” he shouted.

I looked at him and then back at the mountain, ringing phone pressed against my ear. Dammit, Abby, pick up! “My son works at the fire station,” said the man. “They’re about to put out an alert. We have to evacuate. The whole town could burn.”

“My sister’s cabin is on the hillside, and she’s not answering,” I shouted. “Can you call your son and tell him someone’s up there?”

I heard a chime and looked down at my phone. It was a text from the fire department, ordering us to leave Idlewood. But my feet stayed planted. My sister was on that mountain, with nothing but a narrow dirt road leading down to safety. If the fire overtook the path, she’d be trapped.

“Jeffrey, it’s Pop,” I heard the old man say. “There’s a lady here whose sister has a cabin near the fire.”

Hearing those words unleashed a fresh wave of panic. Abby’s cheerful answering machine message sounded for a fifth time in my ear. “Abby, get out of there!” I screamed into the phone.

“We have to go,” said the neighbor. “This thing could spread faster than they can contain it.”

My phone chimed and I looked down at the screen, hoping to see Abby’s name, but it was a voicemail from Ted. Before I could call him back, a text flashed across my screen: FIRE—COME HOME NOW

I looked back and forth from my screen to the mountain. My sister was up there. But my husband and son were at the house. I couldn’t wait any longer. I tugged at Barney’s leash and ran home.

***

Excerpt from Burn This Night by Alex Kenna. Copyright 2024 by Alex Kenna. Reproduced with permission from Alex Kenna. All rights reserved.

Author Bio:

Alex Kenna is a mystery writer, prosecutor, and amateur painter. She lives in Los Angeles with her husband, son, and giant schnauzer. Alex's first novel, WHAT MEETS THE EYE, was a 2023 Shamus Award Finalist for best first P.I. novel. Her second novel, BURN THIS NIGHT, is coming November 12, 2024.

Catch Up With Alex Kenna:
www.AlexKenna.com
Goodreads
BookBub - @akenna
Instagram - @alexkennabooks
Twitter/X - @AlexKenna9
Facebook

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This is a giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Tours for Alex Kenna. See the widget for entry terms and conditions. Void where prohibited.

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Plausible Deception by Dwain Lee Book Tour!

About Plausible Deception

Plausible Deception

Mystery/Detective/LGBT/Quozy

Setting

Primarily Los Angeles/Anaheim CA; Louisville KY; New York NY

Publisher

Butler Books (October 15, 2024)

Paperback

332 pages

ISBN 978-1-964530-02-4

There’s only one Jackson Stradivarius.

Welcome to the arcane world of handcrafted, professional violins. Master luthier Greg Zhu and his husband, Presbyterian minister Dan Randolph, travel to Los Angeles, where Greg’s newest design is competing for recognition from the Violin Society of America.

Only a handful of participants know that the Jackson is at the conference, but the owner offers Greg the rare opportunity to examine it—and Greg is the last person in the room before the violin disappears.

Greg and Dan team up with the authorities to clear Greg’s name, catch the thief, and recover the priceless violin before it is lost to the arts and antiquities black market.

About Dwain Lee

Dwain Lee grew up in Masontown, Pennsylvania, where his first job was working as a coal miner during the summers of his high school years. He graduated from Penn State University, majoring in architecture, and he owned and operated his own architectural firm in Columbus, Ohio for twenty years.

During the thirty years that he lived in Columbus, he raised a family and also served as President and Chairman of the Board of Montana de Luz, an orphanage in Honduras for children living with HIV/AIDS.

Transitioning out of the architectural profession, he obtained a Master of Divinity from Trinity Lutheran Seminary and for many years has served as an ordained Presbyterian minister and pastor. In addition to more typical pastoral duties, a large part of his time in ministry has focused on social justice issues, including LGBTQ+ equality, refugee and immigrant issues, and racial justice.

Dwain has two amazing, wonderful adult daughters, Erica and Andrea. He and his husband, George Yu, an internationally recognized violin maker, currently live in an old double-shotgun house in the eclectic Germantown/Schnitzelburg neighborhood of Louisville, Kentucky. In addition to writing, he enjoys spending time with George traveling, gardening, doing never-ending home renovation projects, camping, and yoga.

Author's Website:

www.dwainlee-author.weebly.com

Facebook: Dwain Lee, Author

https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61561161406771

Purchase link

https://butlerbooks.com/plausible-deception.html

                                                                                                        

 PROLOGUE

Anaheim

The hands held the violin up, almost reverently. Wood, varnish,
and polish worked together to create a warm, golden-brown glow as
the sunlight coming through the window bathed its surfaces.
“Still no developments in the theft of the famous ‘Jackson
Stradivarius’ violin, which was stolen two days ago from
a convention taking place here in the city.” The televised
report continued: “Local, federal, and even international law
enforcement agencies are engaged in a far-reaching investigation,
with little to show for it yet.” The screen displayed several law
enforcement officials conversing. “At this point, authorities are
baffled as to how the rare violin could have been stolen, or who
could have done it.”

The hands gently caressed the violin’s gracefully undulating
surfaces—spruce, maple, ebony—edges all once crisp and new, now
long since worn smooth and round and bearing the patina from
centuries of use.

“This is really a first for our department,” a police detective said
on the screen. “The closest thing we’ve ever had to this was the theft
of several Olympic gold medals, but nothing like this. That’s why
we’re delighted and very grateful that the FBI has agreed to our
request to assist in this case.”

Liar. You didn’t want the FBI here at all; I heard you say that
myself. No matter. The hands continued to twist and turn the violin,
causing the sunlight to flicker and dance along the flame pattern in
the wood’s grain, creating movement, depth, as it flowed across the
contours and rippled textures of the surfaces, creating brilliance,
shade, shadow. Fascinating. Mesmerizing.

“. . . and yet the owner, a local surgeon, remains hopeful for a
break in the case.” The television now showed an elderly man in a
hat, calm but clearly distraught, being interviewed by police inside
a hotel lobby. I’ve never understood why he wears that hat indoors.
It’s odd.

After setting the violin down on a silk cloth, one of the hands
hovered over its weathered spruce belly, paused for a moment, and
then, haltingly, settled onto the wood. I’ll clean the skin oils off later.
The hand carefully, slowly moved along the surface. The subtleties of
the wood grain, the sensuous, compound curvature of the surface,
punctuated with beautifully carved openings, all transmitted not
just tactile connection, but emotion, life. The instrument could
sing, but it also spoke.

When the tree it was carved from was a sapling, Bernini’s
colonnade reaching from St. Peter’s Basilica was brand new. The
tree was already 20 feet tall when Vivaldi was born; 30 when Bach
was just an infant. When this piece of wood was carved, Louis IV
still ruled France, and there weren’t even 13 English colonies in the
New World yet, let alone a United States.

The violin had managed to survive for more than 300 years.
You’ve been played by some of the finest violinists to ever live, and your
music has touched the souls of everyone from monarchs to mechanics.
Throughout all you’ve experienced, all you’ve seen, all you’ve been,
you aren’t just a witness to history—you are history.

News stories, even ones about the theft of a rare violin, a valuable
cultural artifact of global significance, rarely exceed two and a half
minutes. The newscast had already moved on to a remote from a
local farmer’s market and an update on an incoming cold front.
The hands gently wrapped the silk cloth up and around the
instrument. And now, your history starts a new chapter.

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