Struck Dead by Andrea Kane Virtual Book Tour and Review!

 

March 4 - 29, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

The fragile line between life and death… Families that will never be the same…

When a tragic hit-and-run takes the life of a hardworking family man, multi-millionaire Christopher Hillington becomes the prime suspect, and the whole city of New York alights with speculation as to what happened.

But before the NYPD can establish Hillington’s guilt, he himself is brutally murdered in his own home. As he lays dying, he scrawls the name Casey Woods with his own blood, and the Forensic Instincts team is drawn into a complex mystery that has placed its president in the sights of a desperate killer.

A millionaire’s life is full of secrets and suspects. So as the baffled NYPD investigates Casey for the murder, and the body-count ratchets up, Casey herself becomes another potential victim. The FI team’s hardcore investigation has them twisting and turning through suspects and secrets, where the stakes intensify―and so does the collateral damage. As Casey and the team get closer to finding the killer, the unthinkable happens, and the life of one of FI’s own hangs in the blood-stained balance.

They say dead men tell no tales, but blood doesn’t lie. Peeling back layer after layer of deception, the team will cross whatever lines are necessary to solve the case, get justice for the families, and make their team whole again…unless the relentless killer gets to them first.

Book Details:

Genre: Suspense Thriller
Published by: Bonnie Meadow Publishing
Publication Date: March 2024
Number of Pages: 384
ISBN: 9781682320631 (ISBN10: 1682320634)
Series: Forensic Instincts (#10)
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

1

Offices of Forensic Instincts
Tribeca, New York
Main conference room
Monday, 9:40 a.m.

Casey Woods, the president of Forensic Instincts, stood at the head of the oval table, her jaw having dropped. She pressed her iPhone closer to her ear, and tried to reconcile herself, both to who the caller was, and the reason for her call.

She certainly didn’t sound like the Angela King that Casey knew. And why in the name of heaven was she reaching out to Casey, of all people?

Angela repeated her original demand: “I need you to meet me now—as in drop everything and get over here.” This time her voice was commanding but shaken.

Shaken? Angela King?

Casey’s mind raced.

Angela was a high-powered and aggressive criminal defense attorney at Harris, Porter, & Donnelly. A virtual barracuda. Rumor had it that she was next up to make partner. No surprise. She successfully defended the richest of the rich, from corporate executives, to wealthy entrepreneurs, to “businessmen” with rumored links to Organized Crime—a fact she chose to overlook since they were affluent enough to pay her fees. She and Forensic Instincts were on opposite sides of law enforcement. They’d battled it out more than once the criminals that FI had helped catch becoming the very criminals Angela would defend.

Needless to say, the FI team and Angela weren’t friends.

And yet, here she was, calling Casey on an urgent, time-is-of-the-essence matter—one she seemed incredibly high-strung about.

“Casey?” Angela repeated. “Did you hear me?”

Casey lowered herself into a chair. “I heard you. What is this about? And why me, of all people?”

“You’ll see for yourself,” Angela replied. She rattled off the address of a luxury skyscraper on Manhattan’s Upper East Side. “Hurry. I’m jeopardizing my career by waiting to call 9-1-1. I can’t wait much longer. But you have to view the scene first and later provide me with some answers. No more questions. Just come. I have a key to the building’s back door. I’ll let you in. We’ll use the freight elevator.”

Casey’s common sense was urging her to refuse. 9-1-1 meant a crime scene, and questions meant involving her. Both those things were screaming for her to stay away. She pushed aside that inner voice. She was too intrigued to refuse. “I’m on my way.”

She shrugged into her wool winter coat as she called John Nickels, Forensic Instincts’ number one on their security team. Then, she blew out the front door, not waiting to fill the FI team in on where she was going. There was no time. Plus, they’d only try to talk her out of it.

Holiday decorations were glistening everywhere, and tiny snowflakes danced in the air.

Casey didn’t notice any of it.

John pulled around a few minutes later, and Casey hopped into the car, gave him the address, and urged him to hurry.

With a brief nod, John was on his way, navigating the FDR Drive in record time. He got Casey to her destination in thirteen minutes. He dropped her off around back, far from the doorman’s view. Then, he waited to return her to the brownstone once her meeting was over, as per her instructions.

Angela was pacing inside the building, and opened the door to let Casey in the moment she saw her. No matter how dire the occasion, Angela always looked stunning. An Armani cobalt blue pants suit that set off her dark skin, matching four-inch Louboutin heels, and long wavy black hair styled at the highest end salon. She carried herself like a queen. In short, she was a knock-out.

Now she looked more rattled than Casey had ever seen her.

“Let’s go,” she said. She led the way to the freight elevator, where she and Casey rode up.

“Tell me what’s going on,” Casey stated flatly.

Angela didn’t answer. She glanced at her Apple Watch, her gaze snapping up as the elevator stopped on the twenty-first floor.

The doors slid open.

Angela paused only long enough to ensure that Casey was right behind her. Then, she strode down the hall, made a turn, and halted in front of Apartment Twenty-One B. She unlocked the door, pulled Casey inside, and faced her to offer the first few words of an explanation.

“This is the home of my client, Christopher Hillington. We had a nine-thirty AM meeting scheduled to be held here.”

Casey’s brows rose. Christopher Hillington was a renowned and phenomenally wealthy managing director of the private equity firm YNE. He was also a major suspect in a vehicular homicide, and Casey knew through various news sources that he’d been questioned several times by the NYPD and was on the verge of arrest.

“I see you know of him,” Angela said. “Given the circumstances, I’m not surprised.” She gestured toward a breathtaking sunken living room. “In here.”

Casey bit back her question about what Angela had just said. She sensed she was about to get her answers. So she remained silent.

The two women stepped down and Angela stood to a side and waited.

Casey got the full view immediately.

Christopher Hillington’s body was crumpled on the Oriental carpet beside his desk, blood pooling out around him. His head was bashed in, clearly having been struck multiple times by a heavy object. The bloodied sledge hammer lying next to the body was obviously the murder weapon. Judging from the damage done, the killer had been, not only determined, but brutal.

Casey eyeballed the scene, feeling sickened as well as confused. She was about to ask Angela what this horrific scene had to do with her when she spotted the letters, written in blood, on the lower edge of the desk, right beside Hillington’s outstretched arm.

She walked over, careful not to touch anything, squatted down, and squinted. The two words were completely legible, and they made Casey’s blood run cold.

Casey Woods.

***

Excerpt from Struck Dead by Andrea Kane. Copyright 2024 by Andrea Kane. Reproduced with permission from Andrea Kane. All rights reserved.

Andrea Kane is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of thirty-two novels, including eighteen psychological thrillers and fourteen historical romantic suspense titles. With her signature style, Kane creates unforgettable characters and confronts them with life-threatening danger. As a master of suspense, she weaves them into exciting, carefully-researched stories, pushing them to the edge—and keeping her readers up all night.
Kane’s first contemporary suspense thriller, Run for Your Life, became an instant New York Times bestseller.
She followed with a string of bestselling psychological thrillers including No Way Out, Twisted and Drawn in Blood.
Her latest in the highly successful Forensic Instincts series, Struck Dead, showcases the dynamic, eclectic team of investigators as they hunt down a desperate killer who’s threatened one of their own. 

The first showcase of Forensic Instincts’ talents came with the New York Times bestseller, The Girl Who Disappeared Twice, followed by The Line Between Here and Gone, The Stranger You Know, The Silence That Speaks, The Murder That Never Was, A Face To Die For, Dead In A Week, No Stone Unturned, At Any Cost, and Struck Dead.
Kane’s beloved historical romantic suspense novels include My Heart’s Desire, Samantha, Echoes in the Mist, and Wishes in the Wind.
With a worldwide following of passionate readers, her books have been published in more than twenty languages.
Kane lives in New Jersey with her family. She’s an avid crossword puzzle solver and a diehard Yankees fan.
Author Hometown – Warren, New Jersey

Catch Up With Andrea Kane:
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My Thoughts

Struck Dead by Andrea Kane is the 10th book in the Forensic Instincts series. I probably read two or three others in the series. That said, you do not need to read in order, although you certainly can. The author does a wonderful job recapping who the characters are and their role at the Forensic Instincts Institute.

A multi-millionaire Christopher Hillington is involved in a hit and run accident, the police are trying to find him for hit and run which claimed the life of a man who has a sick wife. Before the police can arrest Christopher for the hit and run, Christoper is found murdered with the name Casey Woods who is the founder of Forensic Instincts Institute. 

The institute team has each individual with their own unique backgrounds and talents that helps when trying to solve crimes that the police/FBI are unable to do on their own. A behaviorist, a former Navy Seal, Techno expert, Intuitive, retired FBI agent, A dog that can use scent to track people be they the victim or the criminal. There is also a character that is AI who is very interesting. When this group is hired for whatever reason, they are definitely a force to be reckoned with.

Because Casey's name was at the crime scene of the murdered man, and the fact that Casey's name was at the scene, they are in the fast track to figure out what her role if any and why would the murdered man have left this message.

Each team member with their combined talents must now work fast to ensure Casey's safety, it is pretty obvious that she is a threat to whoever the culprit is. When an incident happens that they all feared, now realize that they have to do what they can as a collected effort to not only clear Casey's name as she has become a suspect. This is definitely a character driven book, and it also shows the in-depth research that the author did.

Like I said earlier, even though this is part of a series, each book stands alone and can be read as such, or you can start with book #1. I have also over the years read a few of Andrea's books and have enjoyed them all. To get a better handle on each character's traits and assets, it isn't a bad idea to start with book #1 The Girl Who Disappeared Twice. Time permitting of course because once you start reading whatever book you chose to read, you won't put it down until you reach the thrilling conclusion.

I received a copy of the book for review purposes and was not monetarily compensated for said review. Courtesy of Partners in Crime Book Tours.

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The Pilgrims’ Way Cafe Maggie McCready’s Travelling Tarot Adventures Book 2 by Melody R. Green Book Tour! #ThePilgrimsWayCafe #TheAngelTeaHouse @melodyrgreenbooks @melodyrgreenauthor @SilverDaggerBookTours

 

 A spellbinding adventure through mystical realms and

 celestial encounters  

The Pilgrims' Way Cafe

Maggie McCready’s Travelling Tarot Adventures Book 2

by Melody R. Green

Genre

Paranormal Cozy Mystery

 Maggie finds herself in an adventure with eight Archangels (including Archangel Michael) who have asked her to help them clear the negative energies around a very old pilgrims' route on Dartmoor, called The Archangels' Way. They're on a mission to rid the Way of the impact of human history, smugglers, highwaymen, ghosts, pixies, energy centres, churches, ley-lines, death, peat bogs, gallows, haunted inns, rolling mists, stone circles, standing stones and holy wells.

It's a fascinating place with energy wormholes and crossing points between the dimensions giving Maggie and the Archangels plenty of disturbances to try to balance and of course Phineas, Archdemon and the Archangel of Chaos is there to make the task as difficult as possible.

**Only .99cents!**

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Maggie stared at the clock on her bedside table. Its luminous, green figures clicked up at 2 AM. She closed her eyes and turned over. It was no good. She wasn’t going to sleep tonight. She did a check of her body’s energy field, but all seemed well. That wasn’t the problem then. She was driving to Lyme Regis in the morning, another town, another opportunity to read for the locals, and share her special form of magic and healing.

She rubbed her eyes and yawned. It wasn’t even a full moon, or eclipse energy, that had disturbed her peaceful slumber. Maybe a cup of cocoa, she thought, sitting up and sliding her legs out of the bed and onto the rug on the wooden floor.

She hurried to the bathroom, relieved her bladder and then washed her face and hands, the cool water quite pleasant after the warmth of her bed. Looking in the mirror she saw her ruby-red hair stood out all around her pale face. Her colouring showed her Celtic origins. At five foot nine, she was tall with a heavier build than was fashionable, looking less like a model and more like a warrior without the muscles. Lightly clasping the handrail, she walked down the stairs. Maggie resembled an almost ghostly figure in her blue pyjamas that were covered in grey sloths. She had never seen a sloth up close, but these were comical and cute, and she thought described her rather well. As she wandered into the kitchen, a large yawn took over her body, and as she opened her eyes she almost fell over. The light was so bright in the room. It was as though forty spotlights were shining in the kitchen, aimed at her. She covered her eyes, breathed in deeply and slowly, and then opened them. 

          The bright lights weren’t spotlights, they were the combined energies of many large, angelic beings, wearing their finest regalia. She scanned the kitchen looking for an angel she knew. Leaning against the back door was Archangel Michael. He was dressed for battle. No long, flowing, white robes, harps playing, cherubs sweetly singing for him. He was encased from top-to-toe in black, even his wings were camouflaged and held close to his body. The planes of his face were sharply angled, and his white-blonde hair cut close to his head. The main feature of his face were his startling sky-blue eyes. 

He raised his hand in salute and said, “Hello, Maggie, my dear. How are you?” It was some months since Maggie had worked with Archangel Michael in Angel Street. She gave him a brief nod, and then turned to grab milk from the fridge, a small milk saucepan for the stove, and began measuring out the milk to heat.

         “Well, that wasn’t a very warm welcome, Michael, are you going to introduce us?” The tallest angel smirked.

Maggie looked at the fifteen-foot-tall angel. He, unlike the others in the room, carried a sword across his back. So, you’re a warrior, even though your demeanour is gentle, thought Maggie. In fact, while Michael was all honed muscle and warrior black, this angel was dressed more casually. He looked a bit like a medieval knight, without the armour, dressed in dark grey leggings and a leather-looking tabard. His face was open. Laughter lines etched around his bright green eyes and unruly light brown curls graced his head.

“Maggie, this giant here is Archangel Sandalphon. Don’t think his height makes him stronger or more important though,” he said. “Sandalphon … Maggie.”  And with that Archangel Michael moved back to lean on the door again.

        “Maggie, it’s a pleasure to meet you officially. I say officially because you call my name with every note you play on the cello.  It’s always a delight to hear a human soul make music; but let’s talk more of that later. We hope you won’t mind helping us. 

Michael assures us” – his arms spread wide to include all the other angels – “you’re the right human to ask for help with a little problem we have. Is your cocoa ready? How about you pour, and I’ll introduce you to everyone here, and we can begin?

             Maggie lifted the milk saucepan from the stove top just in time as the milky bubbles rose to the top. She added it to the cocoa powder, honey, and cinnamon, stirring the liquid in her mug to remove any lumps.  Once that was done, she placed the saucepanin the sink, turned on the tap and allowed the water to fill the saucepan to help release the boiled milk from the shiny metal, and then went to sit down at the wooden table. The angels moved en-masse and rearranged themselves, with Sandalphon in the centre and Archangel Michael leaning on the back door again.

“So firstly, we are all Archangels, some of our names you’ll recognise, others may be new to you. My twin, Metatron, you may have heard of, but he is busy with other things, so he won’t be here for this adventure. Along with Gabriel and Raphael” – he pointed his hand to each in turn – “but you may not have heard of these. This is Tzadkiel, Haniel, Azreal and Israfel, and of course you already know Michael.” He grinned.

As Sandalphon mentioned their names, they smiled in welcome or lifted their hands and turned. It was a lot for Maggie to take in, especially at 2 AM in the morning. 

“Don’t worry about that, you don’t know them yet. Over time, they will explain what they’re about. But suffice to say, that each of us, and many others that are not here, have special tasks. We are like team leaders for groups of angels that interact with humans, and this has always been our overarching role since the beginning of Earth. However, humans were always expected to live on Earth, and we were tasked with being your companions, helpers, and guides. As you have probably learned from Michael, there are special places on the Earth’s grid that we look after. And one of these is a pilgrim route called The Archangels’ Way. This journey from Brentor to Chagford, like all pilgrimages, is a journey of self-discovery for the pilgrim. For many hundreds of years, The Way was hidden from all but a few pilgrims, but now there is more of an opening in human thinking, and more humans are now taking the road of the pilgrim, in accordance with the Great Plan. We are overseeing this realignment of The Way for humans of this present time, and we are there to help them work with the internal patterning and making significant shifts  in the spiritual and emotional understanding of themselves and their journey currently.” He came up for breath.

       “How does that require me?” asked Maggie, sipping her cocoa.

           “Before I answer that question, Maggie, I need to make you aware of more information, is that ok?” he asked. Maggie nodded. “Have you heard of the seven deadly sins and the seven heavenly virtues?”

       “Do you mean those spoken of in the Bible, greed, lust, sloth?”  Maggie looked at her pyjamas covered with sloths. “And others, right? I’m not sure of the full list, not being a Sunday school participant,” she said.

             A grin broke out across the faces of the Archangels, and it was as though all the lights of the world had been filtered to their smiles, bringing an unnatural bright glow to their faces. Maggie sat back in her chair as she surveyed them. She looked at each face so different from the other and yet, energetically linked. Then she looked across to Archangel Michael, who was not smiling but was simply raising his eyebrows at the scene.

            Sandalphon continued. “Each soul plays their way through the vices and virtues in their many incarnations of life, until they have the fullest understanding of their own humanity, and that of others. This understanding enables compassion and love for others and opens a soul to their life mission. The idea of the pilgrimage is that the pilgrim grows in godliness and, for many religious requirements,perfection, and rebirth. The idea of pilgrimage is also found in indigenous cultures as well. In fact, all human societies are aware of the need for time out from the material way of life, and renewal of the spirit of each person as they reconnect to nature and Source. What we’ve been seeing over recent times, is the knowledge of the way, the truth … and I use that word advisedly.” He paused.

“Because there is no absolute truth, only the truth through an individual soul’s experience. Or a collective truth that is held by a group of people?” Maggie pondered.

“Yes, exactly!” Sandalphon nodded his head, “When each soul has aligned with their own truth, the human collective will be ‘The Truth’, in the acceptance of everyone’s truth being valid … and together they will be the whole truth. Of course, as we stand now, we are a long way from that truth, but The Archangels’ Way being open to more humans is the path forward to that. Currently, it’s being seen as more of a walker’s exercise than a spiritual one. This lack of understanding is either because they don’t have a religious understanding or are asleep to their soul’s journey. It means The Archangels’ Way is open to more negative energies. These walks are often on energy ley lines, or power points, if you like, and so attract vast amounts of energy, I believe Michael has already mentioned to you the significance of place names to us, and our need to protect our namesakes?”

“Yes. We worked on Angel Street earlier in the year.”

 “So this would not be unfamiliar to you, then. In The Archangels’ Way, we have many different energies and times across many dimensions converging in this centre. As we work to upgrade the 

energies of The Archangels’ Way and rebalance the pilgrims who come to the area over the next three months, we would like you to help us ground in that energy and be a conduit for the people, and us. Will you help us?”

  She looked at the Archangels, who appeared to be holding their breath as they waited for her reply.

“I was leaving for Lyme Regis this morning.” Maggie looked at the clock again at 2:45AM.

“We are aware of that, and all we would ask is you spare us three months and then you can go to Lyme Regis. We would like you to stay in Belstone, a village on Dartmoor National Park, and part of The Archangels’ Way route. There is a coffee shop and guesthouse you can stay at, and you will do your usual work as a tarot reader and angel business coach. Along with the work we require.” 

Seven pairs of eyes, silently pleading with all the pull of kittens or puppy dogs. Maggie knew when she was beaten. She sighed. “Okay!”

And a chorus of hallelujahs, whoops, and a chorus line from a West End show followed, as the angels celebrated with high kicks in a song and dance finale routine. Michael smiled where he stood, his eyes twinkling back at her, watching the antics of his brothers and sisters and said, “Enough you lot! You’ve got things to do, and Maggie needs some more sleep.” 

     “We can answer more of your questions on the road to Belstone,” Sandalphon said.  And as though he’d snapped his fingers and switched off the lights, the archangels left en-masse, leaving the kitchen in the early morning gloom. 

Michael moved to Maggie. “Thank you, Maggie, for agreeing. I wasn’t sure you would agree to work with us again.”

“What’s three months, Michael? A blink of an eye, right?” Maggie smiled, stood up and put her mug in the sink to wash.

“Get some sleep, Maggie. Sweet dreams.” Michael saluted, turned, and disappeared.

Maggie climbed the stairs to her bed and yawned. Time for sleep, she thought. Everything else would come soon enough.

The Angel Tea House

Maggie McCready’s Travelling Tarot Adventures Book 1

Maggie McCready is a travelling tarot reader who offers spiritual advice over a cup of tea and a charmed biscuit or two.

Maggie arrives in Angel Street to support tea blender and café owner, Lucy Silverton who is being targeted by unknown sectors of the community, undermining her confidence and business. Maggie must find out who is bullying the businesses of Angel St Business Network while keeping herself safe. This is her first mission assisting Archangel Michael and the Legions of Light to protect the suburb from the encroaching dark forces. Armed for the fight with only her kind heart, tarot deck in hand and her entourage of mystic beings, she has a lot to learn about Spirit, the dark forces and herself before this adventure ends.

Definitely something is brewing in Angel St, and it's not just the tea!

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Melody R. Green is an Angel Intuitive who uses her gifts to help people work through the ups and downs of love, relationships, and the other big events of life, guiding them to connect back to “Spirit” and their own intuition. She has much first-hand knowledge of connection to Spirit as she lives in a home filled with spirits of many kinds, who speak to her often. Melody Lives in Sydney, Australia.

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Fast Times, Big City by Shelly Frome Virtual Book Tour!

 April 15 - May 10, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

Like most people, Bud Palmer felt this was just another day.

Though the era was drawing to a close, he assumed his life as a sports columnist in the subtropics, in keeping with the benign fifties itself, would go on as predictable as ever.

But that particular autumn morning he was thrust into a caper that was totally beyond him, forced him to leave Miami and take the train to Manhattan, and suddenly found everything in this restless "Big Apple" was up for grabs at a dicey turning point.

Book Details:

Genre: Crime Fiction

Published by: BQB Publishing

Publication Date: February 27, 2024

Number of Pages: 250

ISBN: 9798886330267

Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodread

Getting as overtired as can be, he opted for the radio once again and the show tunes station. Within minutes another song from West Side Story came filtering into his room. This time the star-crossed lovers put the images on the poster to words, yearning for “a special place,” claiming if they held on tight they could take each other there. Somehow, some day, somewhere.

Even after he switched the radio off, the sweet melody and yearning lyrics stayed with him. But soon faded and dovetailed into the dread of what might await him under these pressing circumstances. He finally let go of it all and sank into a fitful sleep.

***

Excerpt from Fast Times, Big City by Shelly Frome. Copyright 2024 by Shelly Frome. Reproduced with permission from Shelly Frome. All rights reserved.

Shelly Frome is a member of Mystery Writers of America, a professor of dramatic arts emeritus at UConn, a former professional actor, and a writer of crime novels and books on theater and film.

 He also is a features writer for Gannett Publications. His fiction includes Sun Dance for Andy Horn, Lilac Moon, Twilight of the Drifter, Tinseltown Riff, Murder Run, Moon Games, The Secluded Village Murders, Miranda and the D-Day Caper and Shadow of the Gypsy. 

Among his works of non-fiction are The Actors Studio: A History, a guide to playwriting and one on screenwriting. Fast Times, Big City is his latest foray into the world of crime and the amateur sleuth.

 He lives in Black Mountain, North Carolina.

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