Psycho Therapy by TG Wolff Virtual Book Tour! @TG_Wolff @tg_wolff

July 31 - August 25, 2023 Virtual Book Tour

Diamond. One name for a woman who is faking it until she makes it. And she will make it. At least that’s what she’s telling herself.

Dr. Robin Ransom is a therapist to first responders, cops, and spies. She has a problem. She is being blackmailed via email by a nameless, faceless crook. Things go from bad to worse when the neighbor who helped deal with the threat is found dead and her newest patient tries water boarding her for information on the enigmatic Blue Devil. With no good options, she makes a desperate attempt at escape.

Diamond is a former CIA agent turned widow turned somebody whose services are most definitely not for hire. As she is struggling to figure out what is next for her, an intriguing case falls practically in her lap. From a video gaming Beastmaster in Michigan, to a suicide bomber in Virginia, to a psychiatric conference in the south of France, Diamond jumps in with her usual flair for destruction and chaos. But Fate isn’t satisfied, pushing Diamond into a position where it is either her or the person she cares for most.

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery
Published by: Down & Out Books
Publication Date: July 2023
Number of Pages: 247
ISBN: B0C4QW26H3
Series: Diamond Mystery, 3
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | Down & Out Books

Read an excerpt:

Irish found me a hot therapist. To show my appreciation, I wouldn’t kill him.

Just maim him a little.

“Odd doesn’t begin to describe it.” I put my hands out to him. “So, what do you say?”

“Why don’t we leave those as is for now.” He leaned against the bathroom doorframe and gestured with a hand toward the couch. “You’re early.”

“I shouldn’t be here at all.” I went to the couch because I couldn’t stay bent over his moving boxes. “Call me Diamond, all the cool kids do. I don’t need to be here.”

“We should be able to wrap this up quickly then. No point in kicking a dead horse, now is there?”

“Exactly, I’m glad we—wait, are you insinuating that I’m a lost cause?”

“No, no, of course not. It’s a metaphor. It’s one of those parts of speech you Americans endlessly bastardize without understanding its linguistic origins. You, for example, have closed your mind to therapy. Ergo, your mind is a dead horse. Any attempt on my part to alter, change, or inform your perceptions is a waste of energy much in the same way of kicking a dead horse to get it to move. In short, no matter how hard I kick you, you are not going anywhere.”

I stood, flashing my charming smile. “There is a difference between being dead and playing dead. The first is confining, the latter liberating. As for kicking me, well, I wouldn’t want you to strain yourself. I understand your limitations. After all, those who can, do. Those who can’t, hang diplomas on the wall.”

He pulled his long body from its reclined position. “Are you suggesting I’m a fraud?”

“Not at all. I’m suggesting you’re a failure. Being a failure is not the same as being a fraud. It’s not your fault. Being ordinary is a handicap that can be overcome with delusions of grandeur and copious amounts of whiskey.”

“And you’re extraordinary? Please. I’ve met pigeons more unique than you. Look at yourself. Where do you shop? NYPD Blue wardrobe surplus?”

I rolled my eyes. “Elton John called and asked you return the shirt you stole.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “Smart. Vicious. Enjoys a good fight. Thinks she’s unique when she is of the buy one, get two free variety. Poor baby. Life didn’t live up to your expectations?”

I mimicked his position. Well, I tried to, zip ties cramped my style. I settled for resting my hands on my hip. “That’s a mirror you’re looking in. Don’t be too hard on yourself. You’re not the only one who ekes out a living getting people to pay you for your attention. At least you get to keep your pants on.”

“Silk pants on. Only the best. When did the nightmares start?”

“I…”

“Don’t bother denying it. The circles under your eyes and lack of witty repartee are classic signs of sleep deprivation. How long has it been since you slept through the night? A month? Six months? Tell me about the nightmares.”

“I don’t have nightmares,” I snapped. “I don’t dream at all.” Immediately, I knew I had lost. I’d revealed too much. “And if I did, I could handle it.”

He sat down at his desk, pulling a few sheets of paper in front of him. He slashed across the top with a green pen. “Goodbye, Lucy Nutcase. Hello, Diamond.” He scribbled my name, then looked up. “Last name.”

“Tiara,” I said sarcastically, and the bastard wrote it.

He began reading. “Dead husband. Hmm. Hmm. Car chase. Pyrotechnics. Hmm. Baseball?”

“You had to be there.” I left the couch to creep up on his desk. The page was filled with printed text and comments in the same green ink.

Reckless.

Rash.(Doesn’t that mean the same thing?)

No regard for life.

Suicidal tendencies.

He looked up, pinning me with his gaze. “Care to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Fine. I don’t have time anyway.” He bent to a box behind the desk and began unpacking. “If you don’t have the stomach to deal with your issues, then you might as well kill yourself. Do it quickly and leave the air for the rest of us.”

I…He…Did he really? “You can’t tell people to kill themselves. That’s malpractice.”

He stacked books on the glass desktop. “Sue me. Oh wait, you’re gonna be dead. Haunt me. I’ve always wanted a pet ghost.”

“Maybe I have a good reason to want to die.”

“You’re taking up air.”

“Maybe I—”

“Bloody hell,” he said sharply. He turned, crossed the room in three long strides, and spun me toward the door. “I don’t have time for this. Out with you.”

I sidestepped right. “I thought I had an hour.”

“Had. Past tense.” He grasped my shoulders and steered me left again. “Your time is up.”

I planted a boot on the wall. “Oh no, it isn’t.”

“Yes, it is.” He put his shoulder into it, sweeping my leg, and sending me tumbling into the hallway. “Take two aspirin and don’t call me in the morning.”

Door slam.

“What the fuck?” I sprang to my feet and tried the door. It was locked from the inside. I pounded on the fucking beige panels. “Open. Up.” It’s not that I wanted back in, ’cause I did not want to talk to Dr. Robin Ransom, but nobody turns Diamond out like a cat at night. “I’m not through talking to you!”

“Yes, you are,” Ransom said, his voice muffled by an inch and a half of engineered wood. “Bloody nutter.”

“Bloody nutter? I’ll show him who’s nutters.” I would just circle around to the reception room and kick his ass with my hands tied together. Now, to get back. The hallway was a one-way trip to a staircase, which opened onto the parking lot. Irish was sitting in his SUV with the motor running, windows up. I kicked his door, startling the self-proclaimed super spy.

He shoved the door open and got in my face. “What the hell are you doing here? You still have forty-five minutes.”

“Your therapist is psycho. What did you expect from someone named Robin? Cut me loose. Now. I’m going to kick his ass using number eighteen.”

Irish pulled a knife from his pocket. “Hold still. You cut yourself. How hard were you pulling? And what do you mean ‘he’? Ransom is a she.”

“I shouldn’t have had to pull at all. And Ransom is definitely a he. A hot he, as if you didn’t know.”

“She’s a she.” He cut through the zip tie. “I know a woman when I see one.”

An unnatural noise drew our attention to the second floor. A woman was awkwardly climbing over one of the balconies. Her hands were bound behind her back and tape covered her mouth.

“We can’t get to her in time,” Irish said. Both of us saw the resolve in the woman’s face. She was gonna jump.

***

Excerpt from Psycho Therapy by TG Wolff. Copyright 2023 by TG Wolff. Reproduced with permission from TG Wolff. All rights reserved.

 

TG Wolff writes mysteries for people who love to solve puzzles. Her books feature characters in situations mirroring the complexities of real life and real people, balanced with a healthy dose of entertainment. TG Wolff co-host Mysteries to Die For podcast with her son, Jack Wolff. She holds a Master’s Degree in Civil Engineering and is a member of Mystery Writers of America and Sisters in Crime.

Catch Up With TG Wolff:
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My Thoughts

This is book #3 of The Diamond Mysteries by TG Wolff. I had not read the first two books but still managed to understand who Diamond and the other characters were.

We have CIA agents, therapists, murderers, gamers, etc. Try to figure all that out in the fast-paced character-driven tale. 

Diamond is a widow, with a CIA past, a friend packs her up, literally over his shoulder, and takes her to a therapist. He thinks that she needs an intervention. The visit does not go as planned and soon Diamond finds herself involved in a game of high stakes, which includes murder, and blackmail with clues all within a video game. 

Diamond is a witty, sarcastic take no crap kind of woman but she finds that she is also very vulnerable and could get herself killed while trying to protect the good guy.

I have always loved a good story about strong women and Diamond is definitely one of those. The book is 250 pages but I read it in one sitting, and did not want to put it down until I was finished!

I give it 5 stars!

I was given a copy of the book for review purposes.

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Death Comes to Santa Fe by Amanda Allen Blog Tour! @rararesources

 

Former New York darling turned amateur sleuth Madeline Vaughn-Alwin is once again thrown into a colourful yet deadly web of secrets, lies and soirees to die for!It's the week of Fiesta in Santa Fe and Maddie is looking forward to enjoying the celebrations. 

But as 'Old Man Gloom' Zozobra goes up in flames, so too do Maddie's hopes for a carefree life . . . Human remains are found in the dying embers of Zozobra, and then Maddie and her dashing beau Dr David Cole find a body washed up in the arroyo at the edge of town.

Soon identified as Ricardo Montoya, a wealthy businessman and head of one of the most affluent families in Santa Fe . . . the plot starts to thicken. While his beautiful wife Catalina and her complicated children seem less than heartbroken at his untimely demise, and with many disgruntled locals crawling out of the woodwork, Maddie is surrounded by suspects.

With the celebrations of Fiesta continuing around them, Maddie and her 'Detection Posse' get busy infiltrating the best parties and hobnobbing with old and new faces - but can they bring the murderer to justice before they strike again?

Purchase Links

https://www.amazon.com/Death-Comes-Santa-Revival-Mystery-ebook/dp/B0BXPZ9C8P

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Death-Comes-Santa-Revival-Mystery-ebook/dp/B0BXPZ9C8P

Excerpt

    They spun to face Zozobra, glowing white in the darkness. “He does look fearsome, doesn’t he?” she said. “But soon all that work will go up in smoke.”

“What glooms are you getting rid of, then, Maddie?”

“It doesn’t matter. It will all soon be gone!” She just wished she could be rid of all her friends’ troubles as easily. “Tonight is just for fun.”

“I entirely agree.” David held her even closer, and she closed her eyes, certain that no moment could ever be finer than this, ever be more perfect.

A burst of drums, deep and primitive, as if it came from deep inside the earth itself, louder and more enthusiastic than strictly in tune, flashed into the night, and Maddie and David faced the dais, arms linked together. Witter Bynner, the local poet and bonne vivant, costumed in a black robe, led a procession of musicians, chasing children clad as red “glooms.”

“Burn him! Burn him!” The shout went up into the purple-black night sky, eager, full of laughter, touched with just a bit of anxiety. Maddie glanced around at the faces of her friends, barely lit with the few torches planted around the garden, and shivered.

Everyone was still shouting, dancing, when a burst of fireworks exploded over their heads, a sparkling bouquet of red, green, blue, and gold. The light shimmered on the giant puppet up on his dais, ghostly white in his long paper skirt, except for a shock of bright red and green hair. His enormous eyes, painted black and ringed in scarlet, stared down at them wrathfully, his immense bat ears flapping in the breeze.

As a bell tolled, Maddie reached for David’s hand and held onto it tightly. He gave it a reassuring squeeze, making her smile.

Zozobra’s long arms fluttered upward, his red-painted slash of a mouth opening and closing, emitting a rough growl. A group of Maddie’s artist friends, who also fancied themselves musicians, started pounding their drums and blasting their trumpets from the shadows. It was all very enthusiastic, but very out of tune, and combined with Zozo’s growling it was deafening. Maddie laughed, and let go of David to clap her hands over her ears.

“Burn him!” the cry went up again. “Que la fiesta!”

Amanda wrote her first romance at the age of sixteen--a vast historical epic starring all her friends as the characters, written secretly during algebra class (and her parents wondered why math was not her strongest subject...)

She's never since used algebra, but her books have been nominated for many awards, including the RITA Award, the Romantic Times BOOKReviews Reviewers' Choice Award, the Booksellers Best, the National Readers Choice Award, and the Holt Medallion.  She lives in Santa Fe with two rescue dogs, a wonderful husband, and a very and far too many books and royal memorabilia collections. 

When not writing or reading, she loves taking dance classes, collecting cheesy travel souvenirs, and watching the Food Network--even though she doesn't cook. 

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Reflections on the Boulevard Reflections of Michael Trilogy Book 2 by L.J. Ambrosio Book Tour! #ContemporaryFiction #ComingOfAge #YA #ReflectionsOnTheBoulevard #aReservoirMan #ReflectionOfMichael #louisambrosio #ljambrosioauthor #books #readers #reading #booklovers

 @SilverDaggerBookTours  #SilverDaggerBookTours #SDBookTour

A teacher and his protégé take a haphazard journey of joy, friendship and discovery.

Reflections on the Boulevard

Reflections of Michael Trilogy Book 2

by L.J. Ambrosio

Genre: Contemporary Fiction, Coming of Age 

Michael's story continues from A Reservoir Man (2022) where we find him teaching at a university ready to retire. He unexpectedly meets a young man named Ron who becomes his protege and journeys in a haphazard adventure with him throughout America and Europe, each twist and turn of the road bringing unexpected adventures. The journey taken is one of joy, friendship and discovery.

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A Reservoir Man

Reflections of Michael Trilogy Book 1

A Reservoir Man, critics have hailed this explosive and timely work as “a must-read coming-of-age story of 2022.” 

Twists and turns further pull the reader in to Michael’s action-packed tale, with powerful themes, from betrayal and family to secrets and identity.

“Be sure not to blink because you just might miss a pivotal moment in Michael’s rousing, larger-than-life story.” --R.C. Gibson, Indiestoday.com.

“This book is a dream, a gamble, a utopia, even.” -- Kalyan Panja, Bookmarkks.

Everywhere Michael turns he sees a Reservoir Man. Michael’s endless trials of survival include sexual assault, The Vietnam War, an arrest in Spain, Hollywood scandal, the AIDS outbreak, 9/11 and beyond.

​If only Michael could find the one thing he values most, freedom. Michael’s coming-of-age is tarnished by many but the courage to live his truth may just keep Michael one step ahead...or will he succumb to the embraces of a Reservoir Man?

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EXCERPT “A RESERVOIR MAN” BY LJ AMBROSIO

On New Year's Day, the children went with Michael to brunch in Venice and walked on the boardwalk. For dinner, they ate at their favorite Chinese restaurant in West Hollywood. Arriving home, they noticed someone sitting on the porch. Michael quickly got out of the car and went over to the man. It was Joe, a young client of Michael’s.

Two years earlier, Michael brought Joe into the agency as a client; they had a very respectful relationship. Joe asked Michael if he had time to talk. Normally, Michael would have asked Joe if it could wait till the next day, but Michael saw the urgency in his tone. He told Joe to come in and to give him some time to put the children to bed.

Michael came back into the living room with a martini for himself and his guest. He finally broke down and had liquor in his house. Joe sat down and told Michael to listen before he commented. He told Michael that there was an action to take over the office, and his LA staff were aware of it, as well as the New York staff. Gail had also secured a replacement for Michael to run the LA office. The clients were not informed. She was waiting for the proper time after Michael left the office. Gail had secured all the bank statements and hired a lawyer.

Michael was shocked. “Who told you, Joe? Do you know a timetable for when she intends to do this?”

Joe said he was dating someone at the union who told him, and he was not aware of a time she was going to act on this. Joe seemed very pale; Michael became concerned about Joe’s health, asking him how his T-cell count was. Joe did not respond to much of anything.

“There is nothing you can do,” said Michael.

“Just be healthy. There are some experimental drugs. Stay away from AZT. That is AIDS by prescription.”

Joe finished his drink and got up to leave. Joe hugged Michael, and while he was holding on to Michael, he whispered in his ear, “I'm scared. What is going to happen?”

Michael replied, “You are going to live and have fun. Just be gay.” They both laughed. Before Joe left, he stopped in the doorway, turning to Michael.

“What’s wrong Joe?” asked Michael.

“I did not call. I wanted to.”

“Why didn’t you?” said Michael, staring at the young man, who was in a world of anxiety and apprehension.

“I was afraid they tapped your phone,” said Joe, and he left.

Louis J. Ambrosio ran one of the most nurturing bi-coastal talent agencies in Los Angeles and New York. He started his career as a theatrical producer, running two major regional theaters for eight seasons. Ambrosio taught at seven universities. Ambrosio also distinguished himself as an award-winning film producer and novelist over the course of his impressive career.

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Signed Copy of Reflections on the Boulevard,

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25 to Life by John Lansing Virtual Book Tour!

 

August 21 - September 15, 2023 Virtual Book Tour

25 to Life is the fifth and latest installment in the Jack Bertolino series, written by John Lansing in the propulsive, cinematic, page-turning style he has become known for.

Gloria Millhouse, a beautiful African American law student, is working with the Project for the Innocent. She has done extensive research on inmate Carl Forbes, who she believes was wrongfully arrested, convicted and incarcerated for a crime he didn't commit, the sexual assault and brutal murder of a teenage girl in Los Angeles twenty-three years ago. Gloria dies in a car crash on Malibu Canyon Road after questioning powerful, politically-connected men who were witnesses at Carl's trial and knew the victim personally. Private investigator Jack Bertolino is brought on to discover the truth behind Gloria's death. Was her crash simply a random accident or a conspiracy to prevent the courts from reopening the case and granting Carl Forbes a new trial? Jack believes that Gloria was murdered, and as the body count rises, it becomes clear that if Jack can find Gloria's killer, he will also find the man responsible for the teenager's assault and murder. And Carl Forbes can walk out of prison a free man.

Praise for 25 to Life:

“Los Angeles–based private investigator delves into a murder with ties to a wrongfully convicted man in Lansing’s detective novel.”

“The author packs this latest installment in the Jack Bertolino series with new and returning characters. Gloria’s mysterious death is the catalyst, but it’s this vibrant cast that truly propels the tense narrative. The author’s incisive writing sets Jack on the investigation right away, and succinct chapters breeze by as he compiles a suspect list and looks into a host of crimes. Even as the culprits become more apparent, Jack must still prove they’re guilty. It all leads to a superb ending and the unmistakable sense that this series is nowhere close to slowing down.”
“Razor-sharp characters propel a taut, suspenseful thriller.”
~ Kirkus Reviews

Book Details:

Genre: Crime/Thriller

Published by: White Street Press

Publication Date: September 5th, 2023
Number of Pages: 276
ISBN: 979-8-9885 166-1-3
Series: The Jack Bertolino Series, 5
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | More

ONE

Gloria was embarrassingly beautiful first thing in the morning. Her lively intelligent eyes, were the color of cocoa. Her perfect skin was a shade darker. She blew steam over the rim of her coffee cup, steeling herself for the day. Gloria mentally repeated the bullet points she wanted to make with her next group of interviewees.

Mug shots of Carl Forbes, a teenage African American boy, were taped to her mirror. A daily reminder of her life’s work. She quickly gathered her overflowing briefcase and iPad, and locked the apartment door behind her.

Gloria slid behind the wheel of her Fiat, the color of a pistachio, and headed for her first appointment with Councilman Mark Corcoran.

Gloria’s interview with the councilman wasn’t going well. Saying she worked with Project for the Innocent did her no good. Corcoran had agreed to give her ten minutes of his time, but the officious man had already checked his watch twice.

“I’m a big fan of your program,” Corcoran said. His unblinking eyes used to intimidate had no effect on Gloria. “But I believe your client is a guilty man. I followed the case—hell, we all knew the kid. Quiet type, lived a few blocks over, didn’t run with our set. Hard to believe him capable of such brutality, but he confessed to the crime.”

Gloria was prepared for this. “Carl says the arresting officers tortured the confession out of him. He was seventeen years old. Thirty-six hours without food or bathroom facilities. And look at the photograph, it’s clear he’d been beaten.”

The councilman glanced at the photo and handed it back. “He was picked out of a lineup.”

“Eyewitnesses are notoriously undependable. If the cops coerced the confession, it’s not a stretch to think they might have manipulated the lineup. And none of his DNA was found on, or in the victim’s body. Shelley Goldstein had been sexually assaulted before she was murdered. I believe Carl was set up. He’s already served twenty-three years for a murder he didn’t commit.”

Corcoran wasn’t moved. “Shelley was a lovely rich girl. None of the boys in our neighborhood stood a chance in hell with her. Sorry, but there’s nothing more I can add.”

“I was told you had a big crush on her.”

“We all had crushes on her. Who were you talking to?” All attitude now.

“I don’t reveal sources.”

Corcoran rose from his power desk, “Good luck with the case. I respect what you’re doing.”

Gloria understood an exit line when she heard one. She nodded, and walked out.

Gloria was early for her next interview. She grabbed a latte from her favorite coffee house, and took a window seat. She called Professor Ted Andrews who ran Project for the Innocent and filled him in on her less than stellar performance. Her mentor wasn’t pleased.

“It’s a little early in the game to be burning bridges” Ted said.

“I know, you’re right. I get it. But he was so arrogant.”

“Don’t beat yourself up. You’re doing a good job.” Ted counseled her to take a few days, consolidate her notes, and then they’d revisit the case. Not what Gloria wanted to hear. And then as an afterthought, “I think I’m being followed.”

That caught the professor’s attention. Gloria explained it was an SUV with tinted windows. She’d picked up a strange vibe. She made a few off-the-wall turns, and he was gone. She started questioning herself, said it was probably nothing. The professor reminded her when they exonerate one of their clients, someone else’s career and reputation sustains damage. It’s a dangerous business. He tells her to trust her instincts. Gloria took that to heart and signed off.

Hanna Cook was standing on the postage-sized porch of a tired California bungalow in Del Rey. She was pushing fifty but giving sixty a run for its money.

“So, what can I tell you about the bastard?” Hanna asked, droll.

Gloria shared a conspiratorial grin. Put the subject at ease, she’d been taught, and they might share their secrets.

“Do you remember the case? It was back in 2000. The sexual assault and brutal murder of a young co-ed.” Gloria reached into her briefcase, “This is a picture of Carl when he was seventeen.” She handed Hanna the photo.

“What did Kevin have to do with it?”

“I was hoping you could tell me. He’s on record as being part of the team who arrested the young man.”

“No,” she said wistfully, handing the photo back. “The less I knew, the better off I was. Kevin was an angry man who never should’ve been a cop. Went to his head. That, and the rye whiskey. Only thing that made him feel good … then it made him mean. When he wasn’t getting his kicks arresting dirt-bags, he’d start in on me.”

“Was he ever cited for physical violence?”

“Once or twice. It wasn’t like it is now. People with their cell phones, and cameras. And just try to arrest a cop back then for slapping around his wife…”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Gloria said, and decided to drop the hammer. “Carl claims your ex, and his partner, beat him into giving a false confession.”

Hanna considered that. “I almost shot Kevin one night. Had his gun. He woke up staring down the barrel. I started to cry and he slapped the thing out of my hands and gave me something to cry about. First call I made after they unwired my jaw was to a lawyer.”

The conversation was going nowhere. Nothing but conjecture to corroborate her inmate’s story.

It was dusk as Gloria made her way toward Twin Dragon Restaurant. She glanced in the rearview mirror and saw a gray Ford Expedition several lengths behind her. Was it the same SUV she saw before? There were lots of SUVs in LA. When she checked again, it was gone.

Gloria pulled her car onto the side street next to the restaurant. All was quiet. She draped a sweater over her briefcase in the rear compartment, locked up, and hoofed it around to the front entrance to pick up her order.

Five minutes in and out. When Gloria emerged, her hands were full and the smell was incredible. She rounded the corner—and had to look twice to make sense out of what she was seeing. Broken shards of glass fanned out around the back of her car. She took another tentative step forward and could clearly see the shattered rear window of her Fiat.

Her heart pounded, and her breath came in fits and starts. She prayed she was wrong. Yet as she neared her car, her worst fears were realized.

Her briefcase was gone.

Her throat went dry, and she stifled tears. She set the bag of food on top of her car and took in the scene. She looked around her car, checked the traffic on Pico, and the quiet side street for anything out of the ordinary.

Nothing. No one who could have witnessed the break-in. No one who cared that she was caught in a nightmare.

Gloria did a quick mental inventory of everything in her briefcase and came to the sickening realization her iPad and four months of hard work had been stolen. In some instances, information and notes of interviews that took hours to create, and hadn’t been copied. The flood gates opened and tears streamed down her cheeks. Light-headed, she had to lean against the car to keep her balance.

Was it an opportunistic crime? The thief saw an object, did a smash and grab. Could it have been that simple?

What else could it have been? The SUV? Gloria knew she was paranoid now. Scared silly. She grabbed a few napkins out of her takeout order and whisked the shards of glass that had landed on her front seats onto the curb. She turned on her headlights and pulled out, driving toward home.

Her head was still swimming. Gloria pulled to a stop, grabbed her cell phone and called her father.

After she told him what had happened, he quickly replied:

“Look, darling, don’t go home to an empty apartment,” he said with a tenderness that belied his courtroom reputation. “I don’t want you to be alone. Drive over the hill and spend the night. We can file a police report in the morning and set you up with a rental car.”

“I’ve got Chinese.”

“Shrimp with black bean sauce?”

“And Kung Pao.”

“I’ll chill the chardonnay. I don’t want you to worry. Drive safely, honey.”

“Okay, Dad. Thank you.”

Gloria clicked off, feeling loved, and headed for the Las Virgenes exit off the 101.

Malibu Canyon Road was two lanes of driving pleasure. Winding blacktop cutting through deep canyons and steep cliffs with sandstone outcroppings. It came to a dramatic end, revealing the Pacific Ocean and Malibu.

She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. The missing rear window of her Fiat created a strange whistle as she powered the small car around the curves at forty-five miles an hour. Her rumbling stomach got the better of her, and Gloria rummaged around the bag with one hand and plucked out a dumpling. She smiled, took a bite, and glanced at the rearview mirror.

A large SUV appeared around one rocky turn, moving fast, and she hoped the driver wasn’t going to be a pain, and force her to pick up the pace.

Gloria made short work of the dumpling and used two hands to maneuver around a tight curve. Her discomfort swelled as she realized the SUV was closing the distance. Headlights on high beam. Her body tensed as she realized the vehicle bearing down on her was a gray Ford Expedition.

Gloria wondered if she was going mad. It looked like the same car she’d seen before. No, it was impossible, she thought, but picked up her pace. Fifty miles an hour was pushing it around the tight curves, and as fast as she was willing to go. Screw the driver.

The SUV was tracking her now. Tight on her fender. Headlights blinding. She grabbed her cell phone and hit her father’s number with one hand. Gloria slid around the next turn, and the phone dropped out of her hand.

“Back off!” she shouted over the whine of air thundering through the broken rear window as her speedometer hit sixty miles an hour. The SUV loomed in her rearview and she instinctively pushed the car to sixty-five, white-knuckling the steering wheel.

Gloria drifted over the broken white line as a car blasted by from the opposite direction, horn blaring, scaring the crap out of her. She came dangerously close to skidding onto the narrow gravel shoulder and colliding with the sheer cliff face.

And then, oh Christ, she felt the SUV nudge the back of her car.

Gloria stomped pedal-to-metal. Her small sedan rocketed to seventy miles an hour.

The SUV tapped her rear bumper again.

Gloria’s eyes teared. She was losing it but fought to keep the car on the road.

The SUV slammed into her harder. “Stop it!” she cried.

And then the power punch. Five thousand pounds of steel rammed her compact car.

Gloria couldn’t hear her squealing tires over the sound of her own screams as she went into a death spin.

Gloria knew she was going to die a moment before her car came out of the 360 on the opposite side of the road, barreling toward the cliff at seventy miles an hour.

Her Fiat smashed into the rocky berm and went airborne.

Time stood still.

The only sound: the whistling wind and Gloria’s beating heart.

The rock-strewn riverbed grew in size, filling her field of vision as she dropped out of the sky and bore witness to her impending death.

The pistachio Fiat that had brought Gloria so much joy in life burst into flames on impact and enveloped her broken body.

***

Excerpt from 25 to Life by John Lansing. Copyright 2023 by John Lansing. Reproduced with permission from John Lansing. All rights reserved.

John Lansing is the author of four thrillers featuring Jack Bertolino—The Devil’s Necktie, Blond Cargo, Dead Is Dead, and The Fourth Gunman—as well as the true-crime non-fiction book Good Cop Bad Money, written with former NYPD Inspector Glen Morisano. He has been a writer and supervising producer on Walker, Texas Ranger, the co-executive producer of the ABC series Scoundrels, and co-wrote two MOWs for CBS. The Devil’s Necktie is in development at Andria Litto’s Amuse Entertainment, with Barbara DeFina attached as a producer.

A native of Long Island, John now resides in Los Angeles.

Find out more on:
JohnLansing.com
Goodreads
BookBub - @JohnLansing
Instagram - @johnlansingauthor
Twitter - @jelansing
Facebook - @devilsnecktie

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Stay For Summer by Violet Stafford Book! #StayForSummer #VioletStaffordAuthor @SilverDaggerBookTours #SilverDaggerBookTours #SDBookTours

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I tell myself it's a summer fling. The one promise I make: I won't ask him to stay.

Stay For Summer

by Violet Stafford

Genre: Small Town Contemporary Romance 

The hot new farmhand that just sat down at my dinner table is the definition of why I swore off relationships.

He’s smart, charming, and just as handsome as he is sure of himself.

He is exactly the type I want nothing to do with—not as a fling and certainly not as something more.

Not that it matters what I want since he’s leaving in a few months, anyway.

Hooking up would be a recipe for heartbreak.

So, why do I find myself staring into those hypnotic blue eyes and longing for the feel of those sun-kissed hands?

No matter what happens next, I swear to myself I won’t ask him to stay.

Get your hands on this sweet, steamy, "it's only a summer fling" standalone about the farmer's daughter and the plant-whispering farmhand who falls for her.

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**Coming Soon!**

Violet Stafford is the author of small town, steamy contemporary romance. As her other persona, she writes bestselling paranormal romance as Heather Hildenbrand. Both versions of her love a cold beer on a hot day, hanging with her goldendoodle, Luna, and motorcycle rides on back roads.

She grew up in the woods and loves stories about creeks and farms and mud and true love. And she’s utterly terrified of slugs.

Find out more about her books at violetstafford.com

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Clues to You by Claire Huston Cover Reveal!

 

Clues to You

One murder mystery weekend. Two rival sleuths.

They’re looking for answers. But will they find love?

Kate Brannon is delighted to be attending her first murder mystery weekend in a movie-worthy Victorian manor house. Still getting over being dumped, cracking the case would be a welcome boost to her flagging confidence. And the prize money wouldn’t hurt either.

But Kate’s dreams of victory become a nightmare with the arrival of Max Ravenscroft. Smart, enigmatic and annoyingly handsome, Max is Kate’s sleuthing nemesis. 

When she and Max are forced to work together, Kate despairs. But, as the investigation brings them closer, she finds being his partner in solving crime isn’t all bad. 

With growing suspicions that the game is rigged against them, can Kate and Max beat the odds to find the killer? And, as their partnership deepens, can they find romance too?

A sweet romantic comedy with a cosy mystery at its heart. Perfect for fans of Kathryn Freeman, Laura Jane Williams and Katie Fforde.

Pre-order Link - https://mybook.to/CluesToYou

Publication Date: 19th September

Claire Huston lives in Warwickshire with her husband and two children. She writes uplifting modern love stories about characters who are meant for each other but sometimes need a little help to realise it.

A keen amateur baker, she enjoys making cakes, biscuits and brownies almost as much as eating them. You can find recipes for over a hundred sweet treats at clairehuston.co.uk. This is also where she talks about and reviews books.

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Rhyme of Love Series: Jack and Gil 3 Emily Carrington Release Blitz!

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Title:  Rhyme of Love

Series: Jack and Gil 3

Author: Emily Carrington

Publisher: Changeling Press

Release Date: August 18, 2023

Heat Level: 4 - Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 189 pages

Genre: Romance, Thriller/Suspense, Dark Fantasy, Urban Fantasy, Action Adventure, Gay, Shapeshifters, Multicultural & Interracial, Elves Dragons & Magical Creatures

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Gil struggles to hide his loss of status from Jack, but when he finally confesses, Jack turns around and blurts out his own secret. Who can Gil trust now? Jack knows he screwed up but he believes in honesty above everything else. Well, almost. Running the risk of losing Gil, Jack must learn to lie convincingly or he’ll lose SearchLight, his life, and Gil, as well.

Excerpt

Around about ten that morning, Jack’s lover had turned on cello music. Not just classical cello, although there was some of that too, but also cellos playing contemporary songs. The rich, melodic lines were very quiet, but Jack still cued into them as he rested in Gil’s arms.

They’d made love most of the night and into the morning. It was time to rise, shower, and get this new day started. He’d barely slept two hours in the last twenty-four, but Jack refused to shirk his duties no matter how tired he felt.

On the other hand, it was extremely relaxing to lie here, in Gil’s bed, with Gil’s arms surrounding him. He could smell the aroma they’d made together, and he loved it. He felt so very content and safe here.

He’d almost lost Gil. Not to danger but to jealousy and misunderstanding. That isn’t meant to be, Jack thought defiantly. Gil is mine.

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply of Gil’s scent, which was part arousal and part sweat. They needed to rise but Jack couldn’t make his body obey his mind. He sighed contentedly and opened his eyes, gazing at his lover.

Gil rubbed his arm with one dark, broad palm. “Are you awake?” he murmured.

Jack smiled, pushed himself forward, and kissed Gil lightly. When the basilisk tried to deepen the kiss, though, he pulled away. “Time to get up.”

Gil hugged him closer but when Jack still resisted, he grunted, nodded, and let Jack go. Naked, Jack got up and strode to the door of the bathroom. He’d been in here twice, in the middle of the night, to use the facilities, but the lights had been off and he’d been distracted. Now, flicking the light switch, he took in the wondrously huge, almost echoing chamber that held bathtub, shower, toilet, two sinks, and a lounging pool that Jack assumed was for Gil’s nine-feet-long basilisk form.

A moment’s insecurity flashed in his hind brain. Gil was powerful, rich, the ruler, or almost, of an entire country. And what was Jack? A Night Wanderer. A newly changed Night Wanderer who couldn’t always control his shifted form of a Kodiak bear.

Screw that, he thought rebelliously. I will not lose Gil again because of my own feelings of inadequacy. I’m the head of Public Relations, the highest position in SearchLight except for the Founders, and I get final say on everything.

The Founders, the sons of Lady Weinberg, formerly Agent Weinberg, kept their hands largely out of SearchLight’s day-to-day operations. They hadn’t even weighed in when Jack decided to announce and involve all of SearchLight and the heads of most of the magical communities around the world in a discussion of suspicious disappearances.

So, even though he wasn’t a Crown Prince, one miniscule step below ruler of all the world’s basilisks, he and Gil were equals. At least he thought they were.

But this bathroom was spectacular. Extravagant. And Jack felt a little embarrassed about his nudity in such a place. The bed creaked behind him and Gil crossed to him. Jack didn’t want his lover to see the nerves he wasn’t quite sure he could keep out of his expression.

Gil closed his hands on Jack’s shoulders and began to massage. Jack relaxed almost at once as the feeling and scent of his beloved surrounded him.

“Are you all right?” Gil murmured.

“I am now.” Jack glanced over his shoulder, flashed Gil a grin, and pulled away. “Shower or bathtub?”

“Together?” Gil suggested.

“Separately, or we’ll never get out of here.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” But he was teasing because he said at once, “I’ll take the wading pool. I suggest you take the shower stall.”

Jack nodded, padded to the aforementioned, grandiose, glass-walled luxury and busied himself testing the water. There was a towel hung conveniently just outside on a heated rack. He listened to Gil turning on the water in the wading pool. His lover was muttering, “Now, how does she get it to just that right temperature?” That made Jack smile a little. Gil wasn’t used to doing for himself, but he wasn’t a complainer either. He was just a little lost.

As Jack was.

He shrugged off that thought and glanced over his shoulder to check and make sure Gil was all right. But his lover had changed into his magnificent basilisk form, which was nine feet of powerfully built, Komodo-dragon-like scales and girth. Nine feet long from flicking tongue to muscular tail, Gil was glorious.

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Emily Carrington is a multipublished author of male/male and transgender women’s speculative fiction. 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. And in the contemporary world she’s named “Sticks & Stones,” Emily has vowed to create small towns where prejudice is challenged by a passionate quest for equality. Find her on Facebook at Shapeshifter Central or on her website.

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