Thursday teaser: Tears of Endurance

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By D.G. Torrens

Ben felt his mobile phone vibrating. It was Arianna; he pressed the reject call button and turned his phone off. He couldn’t face anyone right now. He climbed out of the taxi and walked into his apartment building in a daze. He caught the lift to the top and let himself into his apartment. Charlie walked slowly over to Ben, not his usual bounding self. “You already know, don’t you, boy?” Ben slid down the side of the door and sat on the floor. Charlie lay beside him and rested his head on Ben’s lap, looking up at Ben with his big sad eyes and whimpering.

An hour passed by before Ben realised he was still sitting on the floor. Nothing seemed to matter anymore, time was inconsequential now. He went into the kitchen and reached for the whisky bottle sitting on the top shelf of the cupboard. Grabbing a glass, he walked out on to the balcony. He just wanted to forget the day, he wanted it to melt away like a bad dream. He gulped down the first glass in one go and then poured another, then another and then another. He wasn’t feeling much of anything by the time dusk was setting in. He felt numb and it felt good. Devoid of feeling for now, he walked back into the lounge and put a CD on, playing it full blast.

About Tears of Endurance

A secret can tear you apart … or bind you forever. For Arianna Ferria, a satisfying and challenging life as an art gallery owner takes an unexpected turn into burning romance when she falls for the handsome and successful Ben Fielding. Soon, their relationship blossoms into more than she could ever imagine. But when a black secret comes crashing down around them, their love faces the ultimate test as they come to grips with a tragic fate that will bring you to tears … Tears of Endurance.

Find it on Amazon.

About the author

D.G. Torrens is the author of 14 books, including the bestselling trilogy, Amelia’s Story #1, Amelia’s Destiny #2 and Amelia The Mother #3. This is an emotion-charged true story that the author wrote for her daughter.

Born in England, passionate about writing, D.G. Torrens is a mother, blogger and prolific writer. In 2013, her works were recognized by BBC Radio WM, where she has given several live interviews in the BBC studios in Birmingham, UK. Thereafter, D.G. became a regular Headline Reviewer for the radio show for the next 12 months.

Get to know Dawn on her:

and follow her on Twitter @torrenstp.

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Thursday teaser: Under the Nazi Heel

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Book 2 in the Eastern Front trilogy

By Scott Bury

Chapter 10: The heel grinds

Nastaciv, July 1942

Maurice woke at noon the day after the night raid. Hot air came in through the open window and he felt sticky with sweat. After washing, he found his mother in the sweltering barn, tending her still.

“Bad news from the villages around,” she said when he came in, without looking up at him. She put more fuel into the little furnace, her brow furrowed. A soft gurgle came from somewhere in the still, and she tapped the copper pipe that led to the first collecting barrel.

The heat from the furnace under the still made Maurice dizzy. “Come outside and tell me.” He stepped out and waited for Tekla to finish fussing over her vodka and follow him. Outside, a slight breeze relieved some of the heat of the summer sun.

“What did you hear?” he asked finally, lighting a cigarette.

“Young Yulia Evanyshyn from Yospivka went missing last night. And a man named Yurchik was killed. People buried him here in Nastaciv secretly at night.” As she looked up at him, Maurice felt like her eyes were drilling into his head. “You’re smoking too much lately.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

“Where were you all night?”

“It’s best if you don’t know that.” Maurice took one more drag, then threw the half-smoked cigarette to the ground and stomped it with his heel.

“They say the Germans in Seredynky are hopping mad,” Tekla said, closing the barn door.

Maurice helped her push it closed. “Who says?

“People.” She latched the door and walked toward her beet field.

“We better go to the village and find out what people are saying.”

“You go. I have work to do here.”

Vasyl was sitting at Komorski’s café as usual, but outside on the step. “Hey, Maurice,” he said as Maurice sat beside him. “Did you hear about Seredynky?”

“Not much. What did you hear?”

“The Germans have burned down five houses and executed three men. They sent their families away, to camps, they say.”

Despite the sun beating on the back of his neck, Maurice felt cold. “Why?” came out like a rasp.

“Partisans attacked last night, they say. They killed five German soldiers at the garrison there, so the commander ordered one house burned for each man killed. He shot the fathers of each house himself. One of them had a pretty, young wife and they say he has her in his quarters now, where he’s using her for his own sick pleasure.” Vasyl spat into the dirt. “Bastards.”

Maurice stood, feeling himself tremble from head to foot. He went into Komorski’s little house and found the café owner sitting at his own table, his head in his hands. A plain bottle of clear liquid sat on the table, beside a shot glass. “Is it true what they’re saying about Seredynky?” Maurice asked.

Komorski looked pale. He smoothed his hair and spoke to the table. “The Germans set the first house on fire at dawn. They didn’t even bother giving the people inside a warning to get out. They shot the father in front of his three children.”

“How do you know this?”

“The brother of one of the men shot came down here a few hours ago. His name was Loboda, and he was my cousin.” With shaking hands, Komorski poured a shot from the bottle, slopping some of the homemade whiskey onto the table. He threw the drink into his mouth and swallowed. He tried to pour another shot, but his hands could not keep the bottle’s mouth over the glass. Maurice took the bottle and poured for him.

“Yurchik was killed and buried secretly last night, too,” Komorski continued. “He lived here, in this village. He was my friend. It won’t take the Germans long to work out the connection.” He looked up, finally, at Maurice. “Are they going to come here, Maurice? How many houses will they burn in Nastaciv? How many men will they shoot? How many girls are they going to rape?”

About Under the Nazi Heel

For Ukrainians in 1942, the occupying Germans were not the only enemy.

Maurice Bury was drafted into the Red Army just in time to be thrown against the invading Germans in 1941. Captured and starved in a POW camp, he escaped and made his way home to western Ukraine, where the Nazi occupiers pursued a policy of starving the locals to make more “living space” for Germans.

To protect his family, Maurice joins the secret resistance. He soon finds the country faces multiple threats. Maurice and his men are up against Soviet spies, the Polish Home Army and enemies even closer to home.

Experience this seldom seen phase of World War 2 through the eyes of a man who fought and survived Under the Nazi Heel.

Get it on Amazon.

About the author

Scott Bury can’t stay in one genre. After a 20-year career in journalism, he turned to writing fiction. “Sam, the Strawb Part,” a children’s story, came out in 2011, with all the proceeds going to an autism charity. Next was a paranormal short story for grown-ups, “Dark Clouds.”

The Bones of the Earth, a historical fantasy, came out in 2012. It was followed in 2013 with One Shade of Red, an erotic romance.

He has written in the Lei Crime (Torn Roots, Palm Trees & Snowflakes, Dead Man Lying, Echoes), Jet (Jet: Stealth) and Sydney Rye (The Wife Line, The Three-Way) Kindle Worlds.

His latest work is the Eastern Front trilogy: Army of Worn Soles, Under the Nazi Heel and Walking Out of War.

Get to know Scott from his:

And follow him on Twitter @ScottTheWriter.

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Thursday teaser: Gray Retribution

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Book 4 in the Tom Gray series

By Alan McDermott

“Heads up.  We’ve got movement to the north.”

Simon ‘Sonny’ Baines lay on the roof of the farm building and listened to the approaching band of guerrillas make a beeline for the building.  Below,
Len Smart, Carl Levine and Jeff Campbell took up defensive positions against the low wall that ran around the perimeter of the house.  Their movement was silent in comparison to that of the attacking force, which announced its presence by crashing through the undergrowth like a herd of elephants headed for a waterhole.

The three men on the ground trained their sights on the tree line that bordered the eastern edge of the smallholding, remaining silent as they
waited for the bandits to make an appearance.  The noise grew louder as the attackers approached, then suddenly stopped dead.

Silence covered the area as the nocturnal orchestra took a time out.  It seemed as if even the animals and insects wanted to watch the action unfold.

Len Smart slowly wiped a bead of sweat from his brow, careful not to make too quick a movement in case it was seen by the enemy.  Mosquitoes danced around his head, kept at bay by the insect repellent, but their incessant buzzing told him that he wasn’t in Kansas anymore.

As if the oppressive humidity weren’t reminder enough.

Without warning, muzzle flashes lit up the edge of the forest.  None of the defensive team returned fire, preferring to lull the enemy into advancing
out of the trees and into the kill zone.  The small-arms fire continued for a few seconds before petering out, allowing silence to return.

All remained still for over a minute, then Sonny’s voice came over the comms.  “Got people in the grass at your ten and two.  Looks like they’re
trying to flank us.”

Len Smart was on the right of the trio and he saw his target a hundred yards away.  Rather, he saw the top of the three-foot tall grass sway gently as
the unseen assailant crawled slowly through it.  Night-vision goggles would have come in handy, but he would have to make do with the sliver of
moonlight that cast a dull shine over the African plantation.  Besides, there were four of them and an estimated enemy strength of around fifty, so
in Smart’s mind they easily had the locals outnumbered.

“Got him,” he said, and Levine on the other end of the line confirmed that he also had a bead on his man.

The AK-47s opened up once more, but the three men continued to save their ammunition and keep their locations hidden.  They spotted a couple of armed men advancing slowly from the trees but held their fire, preferring them to get a little closer before engaging. From the rooftop, Sonny watched the scene unfolding below him, oblivious to the wraith-like figure scaling the rear wall.

Sergeant Nwankwo Okeke was clad in an ancient British Army smock and trousers, the disruptive-pattern material a throwback to the late seventies.
His features, like those of the four Englishmen, were obscured by the black and tan camouflage face-paint.  The exception was that underneath the
disguise, his skin was the colour of night, the war paint applied more for effect than concealment.

The chatter of gunfire from the trees intensified, and the occasional grenade came arcing towards the defences.  They landed pitifully short, but
the noise they generated helped to mask Okeke’s approach.  He reached the lip of the roof and peered over.  Sonny lay five yards away with his back
towards him. Okeke eased himself up on powerful forearms and quietly swung a leg over the edge.  He waited, hand over his holster, but Sonny continued to focus on the battle beneath him.

Okeke eased forward, one hushed step at a time, silently drawing his nine-inch knife from its leather sheath.

Two yards.

One.

He fell on Sonny’s back and yanked his head backwards, drawing the blade across his victim’s throat.  With Sonny down, Okeke made an animal call that signalled his friends below.  They broke from the cover of the building and raked the trio’s positions with AK-47 fire.

Smart, Levine and Campbell, all facing the other way, realised too late that they’d fallen for a feint.

They never stood a chance.

About Gray Retribution

Tom Gray is enjoying time with his family after the birth of his daughter, now three months old, and just wants an easy home life. However, trouble has a way of finding him. While he is visiting his uncle’s new grocery store, thugs arrive demanding protection money, and in the ensuing fight, Gray is hurt. As he recuperates, Gray learns that a team of friends is facing grave danger on a mission in a tiny war-torn African nation, where an evil warlord is kidnapping boy soldiers to do his work in his bid for supremacy. Gray sets off on a rescue mission, but with his attention now divided between two continents, events are spiraling out of control, and Gray must fight to save all that is dear to him.

In Gray Retribution, the fourth book of the popular, action-packed Tom Gray series, suspense builds to an unforgettable ending.

Find it on Amazon.

About the author

Alan McDermott lives in the south of England,  and is married with beautiful twin daughters. He recently gave up his job of creating critical applications for the NHS to write action thrillers full time.

His debut novel, Gray Justice, was very well received and earned him bestseller status. The next two books in the series — Gray Resurrection and Gray Redemption — were enough to attract the attention of a major publisher, and he has since added Gray RetributionGray Vengeance and Gray Salvation to the list.  Alan’s seventh title, Trojan,
is a spinoff featuring MI5 agent Andrew Harvey. It will be released in early 2017.

You can find more information on Alan’s:

BestSelling Reads author page  |  Amazon Author page  |   Website and blog  |  Facebook page

And follow him on Twitter @jambalian.

 

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Thursday teaser: Flame Road

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Scorch series book 5

By Toby Neal and Emily Kimelman

CHAPTER ONE

Woman

Panic fluttered at the edges of the woman’s mind. How did she get here?

Nothing would come.

She simply was, and it all hurt.

Throbbing pain radiated from her forehead as she drew her knees up to lie on her side. She blinked as bright light filtering through pine boughs stung her eyes. She raised a heavy white arm. Whose arm was it? She had no idea.

She touched the sore spot on her head. A shock of pain thundered through her skull, down her neck, vibrating through her entire body, clenching her stomach.

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, letting the pain pass.

Where was she?

The woman rolled onto her knees and wet brown leaves squished beneath her. Her gaze fell to hands riddled with scratches and scrapes and traveled up her arms to her chest. She wore a long-sleeved, ripped white top, mottled with dirt and dried blood, probably from the wound on her head. A jagged, sharp rock marked with an oily dark stain of blood lay directly in front of her.

She must have fallen and hit her head.

The insight was a clue to what was going on. She could solve this mystery. Hope gave her the energy to push herself up, clinging to a nearby sapling. She rose to stand, her pulse pounding as her head swam.

Alone with amnesia in the middle of a forest.

Another insight, but this one brought fresh terror. She looked down and around her, searching for more clues.

The shirt was actually a dress. The garment’s ankle-length skirt was pockmarked with small tears, as if she’d run through the woods, the loose material catching and ripping on underbrush. Towering trees surrounding her were almost bare: late fall.

The woman looked down at her body again, but no spark of recognition ignited as she examined the full breasts and wide hips straining her ill-fitting dress. She turned her head, feeling stinging at the crown of it.

Raising her hand, the woman gently probed shorn hair to find a large scab, tender but healing. She traced the lines of it on the back of her head. Some kind of symbol.

Her head had recently been shaved and something carved into her scalp.

Why?

The woman looked around the forest, scanning the trees, hearing birds and the scuffling of small creatures in the leaves. The sound of bubbling water filtered through the air.

She was thirsty. Very thirsty.

The woman’s legs quivered, and placing weight on her left ankle made her wince. She pulled up the skirt and looked down at the milky skin of her legs, slashed with scratches that must’ve happened as she ran through the woods.

Sturdy hiking boots covered her feet. They didn’t make sense with the dress.

None of it made sense.

Thirst drove her forward. She headed toward the sound of the water, leaning on trees to support her wobbly steps.

Glimmers of light twinkled on a river glimpsed through the trees. She hurried forward and broke from the forest onto a pebbly shore. Water rushed over colored pebbles under a blue sky. She stumbled to the stream’s edge, dropping to her knees and scooping the crystal clear liquid up in her hands.

It might not be safe to drink. She should boil it first.

How did she know that? No clue.

But she didn’t have the luxury of worrying about parasites.

She drank deeply, bringing the cold water to her parched mouth until it filled her stomach. She was hungry, but hunger was nothing compared to the thirst and pain in her head.

The woman pushed the sleeves of the dress up and splashed to her elbows, rinsing away the dirt and blood. She washed her face and unknown scratches stung. Dipping the hem of her skirt into the water, she gently dabbed at the wound on her forehead, hissing between her teeth at the sharp pain.

She must’ve been running from something or someone. Five dark spots marked where someone had grabbed her forearm.

She unbuttoned the dress. Large breasts were cradled in a matronly bra. She pulled the garment aside and examined the full, creamy white round with its pink nipple. Why didn’t she recognize her own body?

She lifted her skirt, exposing pale, fleshy thighs. Clearly, she had not spent much time in the sun but it felt good now, warming her as the chill water refreshed her.

The woman couldn’t see through the fog of lost memory to the clear peaks of who she was and how she got to this place, but the information existed somewhere in her mind, as solid and real as a mountain range hidden in cloud.

She scooped up another handful of sweet water, but a low growl jerked her attention up.

On the other side of the shallow river, less than twenty yards away, stood a gray wolf. Lean, long-legged, shaggy and rough, standing as tall as the woman’s waist, the predator’s black lip lifted above razor teeth. Menace emanated from its chest.

Fear and adrenaline surged through her and froze the woman as cold as the crystal-clear water rushing over the bright stones.

The wolf’s head lowered and its ruff raised. The animal stalked toward her, entering the water.

She had fled from something terrible, and now she was about to die.

About Flame Road

From award-winning, bestselling authors whose writing Kirkus Reviews calls “persistently riveting,” comes the Scorch Series, romantic action adventure for fans of romance thrillers, apocalyptic and family romance sagas.

The Scorch Flu pandemic sweeps through Colorado, forcing commitment-phobic firefighter and sports adrenaline junkie Cosimo “Cash” Luciano to begin hiking his way through the wilderness toward his family’s survival compound in Idaho, the Haven.

A traumatized woman awakens in the woods with no idea who she is or how she got there, and no way to survive. Lost and vulnerable, she is easy prey until Cash and his giant bear dog, Tiny, offer her protection . . . and a nickname, Sunshine.

Together, they must forge a way through the wilderness and unravel the mystery of who she is, and why a band of deadly skinheads are relentlessly hunting her.

Can Cash and Sunshine make it through the peril that pursues them and find a way to each other’s hearts?

About the authors

Emily Kimelman is the author of the best selling Sydney Rye Series, which feature a strong female protagonist and her canine best friend, Blue. It is recommended for the 18+ who enjoy some violence, don’t mind dirty language, and are up for a dash of sex. Not to mention an awesome, rollicking good mystery!

Emily can be found:

Website   |   Facebook    |   Twitter

Toby Neal is the author of the bestselling Lei Crime series featuring Maui police detective Lei Texeira, the Paradise Crime series featuring security specialist Sophie Ang, the Michaels Family Romance series, and the new Scorch Series romantic thrillers with Emily Kimelman.

Visit her:

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Thursday teaser: Honor Among Thieves

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The newest Dewey Webb Historical Mystery is now out!

By Renée Pawlish

As I sat at my table at a restaurant on Grant Street, I wasn’t thinking about murder. My mind had been on how I was going to pay the stack of bills piled on my office desk. I hadn’t had a lot of work in the last couple of months, and money was tight. It had been wearing on me, and Clara and I had even had an argument about it this morning.

I crushed out my cigarette in an ashtray and started toward the cashier near the restaurant entrance. That’s when I saw a tall man rise from a table near the door. He was vaguely familiar. Then he lit a match by flicking the tip of it off his thumbnail, and I remembered him. Roy Jefferson.

We’d been in the same outfit in the war, in Germany, but once we’d come back stateside, I hadn’t seen him again. I recalled that he was arrogant and a hardhead, quick to anger, and always pushing his superiors. But in the end, he got the job done. He lit his cigarette, blew out the match, and tossed it into an ashtray. As I neared the register, he glanced up and saw me.

“Dewey Webb?” he asked, his brow furrowed.

I nodded. “Roy Jefferson.”

“That’s right.”

He offered his hand. His grip was firm, and he looked dapper in a well-tailored blue pinstripe suit, but his brown eyes were guarded.

“I didn’t know you lived in Denver,” I said.

“I moved here a while back. What’re you doing?”

I pulled some ones from my wallet and handed them to the cashier. “I’m a private detective.”

“No kidding?” He nodded appreciatively. “You were a good guy in the war, and you could handle situations and people. I can see how you’d be a good investigator.”

“It’s a living.”

He waited, and after I’d paid my bill, he paid his, and we walked outside. It was a chilly November Monday, and I was between jobs and didn’t have anywhere to be. He pulled his fedora down over his brown hair.

“It’s been a while since the war,” he said as he smoked.

That was a topic I didn’t want to discuss. I motioned toward Twelfth Avenue. “I’m parked over there.”

“I’ll walk with you, if that’s okay.” He hesitated, then glanced around nervously. “There’s something I’d like to talk to you about. You being a private eye.”

I gave him the slightest of once-overs, suddenly wondering if our chance encounter wasn’t by chance at all. “All right, why don’t you come to my office and we can talk.”

He stared across the street, bit his lip, then shook his head. “I’ve got to get back to work. How about you come over to my place tonight, say five o’clock?”

I gave him a hard look. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing. It’s just … something I need from you, okay?” He pulled an envelope from his pocket. “What’s your retainer?”

I named my daily fee.

“Good.” He held out the envelope. “That should more than cover it. Come over and hear what I have to say. If you don’t want to help, the money’s yours just for your trouble.”

His eyes darted around nervously. I contemplated him for a moment, then took the envelope and opened it. The money was enough to pay me for a week. I looked at him.

“Are you up to something illegal?” I finally asked.

He held up a hand. “Not at all. Hey, you were a solid guy during the war, and I think you’ll want to hear this deal.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to go. Tonight. Five o’clock. The address is on the envelope.” With that, he spun around and hurried down the street. He turned the corner and was gone.

About Honor Among Thieves

It’s 1949, and Denver private investigator Dewey Webb isn’t thinking about murder, he’s pondering the stack of bills he can’t pay. Then he runs into an old army acquaintance, Roy Jefferson, who is well-dressed, flashing cash, and wanting Dewey’s help. Dewey has his suspicions, however, Roy pays him substantially just to meet him later and hear his problem. Dewey agrees, but before they can talk, Roy dies, an apparent suicide. But is that the case?

Since Dewey has taken Roy’s money, he feels honor-bound to look into Roy’s death. What Dewey discovers leads him to believe someone from Roy’s sordid past may have murdered him. And that same someone may now be after Dewey as well. As Dewey works to find a possible killer, he’s forced to question many things, including his own sense of honor.

Honor Among Thieves is a hard-boiled, historical mystery that’s great for fans who love a traditional detective crime story with a noir flavor, but without a lot of sex or swearing.

Dewey Webb first appeared in the Reed Ferguson mystery, Back Story. Pick up a copy of to find out more about this classic hard-boiled detective.

About the author

Renée Pawlish is the award-winning author of the bestselling Reed Ferguson mystery series, horror bestseller Nephilim Genesis of Evil, The Noah Winters YA Adventure series, middle-grade historical novel This War We’re In, Take Five, a short story collection, and The Sallie House: Exposing the Beast Within, a nonfiction account of a haunted house investigation.

Renée has been called “a promising new voice to the comic murder mystery genre” and “a powerful storyteller.” Nephilim Genesis of Evil has been compared to Stephen King and Frank Peretti.

Renée was born in California, but has lived most of her life in Colorado.

Find more about Renée and her books on

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Thursday teaser: Back Side of a Blue Moon

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By Caleb Pirtle III

This week’s Thursday teaser is from a brand-new title now available on Amazon.

THE CROWDED GROUNDS of Eudora’s farm was a circus. A freak show. A dance at the gates of hell. Heaven on earth. And Doc had already stolen the pearly gates. Wind whipped up dust devils, and she could not take a step between the house and the rig platform without bumping shoulders against somebody, and, more often than not, the wayfarers had faces she had never seen before.

What were they doing milling around in her yard? Betting on oil? Trying to get rich? Looking for a meal, a job, a home, a place to spend the night, or had they just come down the road to see the free show?  For a town that had dwindled down to a few hundred lost and wretched souls, Ashland was certainly turning out a lot of people on the day Doc had promised to strike oil.

Well, Doc hadn’t really promised to find anything today or any other day. He was nothing but a vaudeville magician trying to pull a rabbit out of his hat, and the straw boater might be packed with raccoons, squirrels, and possums, but there was nary a rabbit in sight. Eudora chuckled at the thought.

But Charlie Ferguson’s wife Mildred, she knew, had told Ira Sylvester that her husband had smelled oil on the drill bit. Couldn’t mistake it. He was afraid to strike a match, afraid the whole thing might blast him to kingdom come.

Ira told the Reverend Shanks Warren that the drill bit was dripping with black crude. Filled up at least one bucket, maybe two. One rumor was for certain. Doc was running out of buckets. Or so the gossip said, and gossip was running amuck like a horse that had shed his shoes and all of his morals.

Shanks Warren preached it from the pulpit: God has put oil in the ground below us, and he has sent his prophet Doc Bannister to draw it up in buckets from the well. Glory, hallelujah, and amen on us all.

After the last amen had reached the ceiling and fallen flat, his congregation scattered like lost geese flying wild in a blue norther. Too high for the rain. Too slow for the lightning.

Tell another soul.

Tell the world.

It didn’t matter.

About Back Side of a Blue Moon

Times are hard along the Sabine River, and the little East Texas town of Ashland is crumbling under the weight of the Great Depression. Families are broke and hungry. For many, their last meal may well have been their last meal. Families are giving up and leaving town. Everyone knows the fate that awaits the scattered farms. No one can save Ashland. It is as isolated as the back side of a blue moon.

Into town comes Doc Bannister wearing a straw boater and a white suit. He is the miracle man. He has a homemade doodlebug machine that, he says, can find oil and make them all rich. Oil, he swears, lies beneath the blistered farmstead of Eudora Durant. She thinks Doc is a flim flam man. The Sheriff believes he is a con artist. Both are convinced that Doc has come to town to swindle every dime he can get before hitting the road again. Ashland knows Doc may be crooked, but he has brought hope to a town that had no hope.

Eudora has everything Doc wants. She is a beautiful woman who owns cheap land. In Ashland, she is known as the scarlet woman. Whispers say she murdered her husband. No one has seen him since the night they heard a shotgun blast on her farm. The town wants oil. Doc wants Eudora. But Eudora is too independent and stubborn to fall for the charms of a silver-tongued charlatan.

She holds the fate of Ashland in her hands. Will she let Doc drill? Is there really oil lying deep beneath her sunbaked land? Can Doc find it? Or is he more interested in finding love than oil? What happens when a man with a checkered past comes face to face with a woman whose past is as mysterious as his?

About the author

Caleb Pirtle III is the author of more than seventy books, including three noir thrillers in the Ambrose Lincoln series: Secrets of the Dead, Conspiracy of Lies, and Night Side of Dark.

A graduate of The University of Texas in Austin, Caleb became the first student at the university to win the National William Randolph Hearst Award for feature writing. Several of his books and his magazine writing have received national and regional awards.

 

He was a newspaper reporter for the Fort Worth Star-Telegram and served ten years as travel editor for Southern Living Magazine. He was editorial director for a Dallas custom publisher for more than twenty-five years.

You can find more about Caleb on his BestSelling Reads author page or his Amazon Author page. Also visit his new site, Caleb and Linda Pirtle.

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Thursday teaser: Unsteady Rhythm

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This week’s Thursday teaser is a special one: a peek at an as-yet-unreleased, upcoming new book, the newest House of Archer rock star romance by Raine Thomas!

House of Archer, Book 2

By Raine Thomas

Sydney saw that Keith was about to argue further about Lily’s story ideas. She just couldn’t sit there and watch him flounder anymore. She caught his eye with a quick wave of her hand. Since everyone else was now focused on discussing the songs, dates, and timing, she used ASL to communicate with Keith.

I’ll help you, she signed.

He frowned and shook his head as though he didn’t understand.

With reading, she clarified.

She wasn’t at all surprised by the flicker of shock that crossed his features, nor was she surprised to see the emotional wall that immediately slammed into place, leaving his gaze frosted and hostile.
She may have expected both reactions, but having them directed at her as he rose and stepped closer made her swallow hard. He stopped less than a foot from her, prompting her to rise. His broad shoulders filled the space, blocking her from view of anyone in the seating area.

What are you talking about? he signed.

You know, she replied, keeping her expression contained and praying he couldn’t see her heart attempting to bash through her chest.

You think I can’t read?

She gave him a knowing look that had his glower deepening. I’m a teacher, she reminded him. I’m trained to notice.

God, could he look any more threatening? She felt her knees wobble and locked her stance.

Who have you told? he asked.

No one, she assured him. And no one needs to know. I can meet with you privately.

Just keep your mouth shut and mind your own business.

Geez. He could even freeze the blood with sign language.

Unwilling to let it go, she signed, Don’t you want to help the band succeed?

His eyebrows drew together. I don’t need scripts to do that.

She sensed the hesitation behind the words, though. Much as she had suspected, Keith’s biggest strength—loyalty to those he cared about—was also his weakness.

What about Lex? she persisted.

His gaze moved from her hands to her eyes. She immediately regretted bringing up his sister. He moved so close to her that she couldn’t move her hands without touching him.

“What about her?” he asked in such a soft voice that it raised the hairs on the back of her neck.

“Don’t you want to set a positive example for her?” she whispered back. Then, guessing he wouldn’t appreciate learning about her relationship with his sister, she added, “Lily has told me how much she looks up to you.”

Keith’s strong jaw flexed as he considered her words. Eventually, he nodded once, so subtly that Sydney wasn’t sure she saw it.

“Is everything all right?”

Sydney jumped when Nikki spoke from over her shoulder. Her hand brushed against Keith’s midsection, making contact with his taught ab muscles. She took a guilty step back, nearly colliding with Nikki.

“It’s fine,” Keith said, still looking at Sydney. “Just got up to wash my hands.”

“Then you can spare a moment for me,” Nikki responded, pushing past Sydney to pull Keith down for a kiss.

With nowhere else to go, Sydney stood there and watched them, wondering what in the world she had against her heart that she would sentence it to such a tortuous end.

About the House of Archer, Book 2: Unsteady Rhythm

A rock band. A reality show. A recipe for disaster.

Falling in love with your best friend is one thing. Falling in love with a rock star is entirely another. Put those two things together, add in airing your new relationship on reality TV, and you’ve got one volatile mix just waiting to explode.

Lily Montgomery’s life has veered in a direction she never expected. She’s struggling to find her balance after her romance with rock star Dane Archer propelled her into the latest headlines. Her dreams of a successful writing career are fading in the bright lights of unwanted fame. She needs to figure out how to help Dane and his band achieve their goals without losing sight of her own.

Easier said than done . . .

As The Void’s tour continues, Lily faces family drama, relationship trials, dangerously dedicated fans, and zealous paparazzi. Between that and figuring out how to spin the tabloid-worthy relationship developing between the band’s brooding bassist, Keith Connors, and her conservative roommate, Sydney Ward, Lily has more weight on her shoulders than she ever imagined.

But her choice has been made. For the sake of love and her own reputation, she will have to find her rhythm and rise to each challenge. If she doesn’t, she’ll lose everything . . . and the whole world will be watching.

About the author

Raine Thomas is the award-winning author of bestselling Young Adult and New Adult fiction. Known for character-driven stories that inspire the imagination, Raine has signed with multiple award-winning producer Chase Chenowith of Back Fence Productions to bring her popular Daughters of Saraqael trilogy to the big screen. She’s a proud indie author who is living the dream.

Raine is a hopeless romantic with a background in the fields of mental health and wedding planning…two areas that intersect far more than one would think. Her years working with children and young adults with emotional and behavioral challenges inspired her to create protagonists who overcome their own conflicts. When she isn’t writing or glued to e-mail or social networking sites, Raine can usually be found vacationing with her husband and daughter on one of Florida’s beautiful beaches or crossing the border to visit with her Canadian friends and relatives.

Where to find her

BestSelling Reads author page   |   Website  |  Twitter  |  Facebook  |  Pinterest  |  Tumblr  |  Instagram  |  YouTube  |  Goodreads  |Linkedin  |  Tsu

 

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Thursday teaser: Femme Fatale

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Vigilante, Book 7 by Claude Bouchard

The remainder of the evening with Monique and Henri had turned into a pleasant one once the shock of Louie’s murder had been absorbed. Henri had recounted anecdotes of his security work at the Louvre, ranging from idiocies performed by tourists around priceless pieces of art to several attempted thefts over the years. Monique told childhood stories about her daughters which would have embarrassed them had they been present. Leslie, for her part, described how she and Dominique had met and become attracted to each other, already well aware of the Petits’ comfort and liberal minding regarding their daughter’s sexual orientation.

By ten o’clock, all three were yawning, weary from the long, emotional day they had been through and knowing those coming would be just as demanding. They agreed to calling it a night and following a polite argument with Henri insisting Leslie sleep over while she refused, she bade them good night and headed back to Dominique’s apartment.

Her ride back in the relatively light traffic along the now familiar route was uneventful and she was soon parking the scooter in the deserted courtyard at Dominique’s. A light automatically came on as she entered the building, illuminating the empty hallway as she made her way to the elevator which seconds later was whisking her upwards. The doors slid open at the fourth floor and Leslie exited, turning towards the door to her temporary home immediately to her right. With key in hand, she unlocked the door and entered the apartment, flicking on the ceiling light in the entranceway as she went.

The sun had shone through the windows all afternoon, leaving the apartment feeling warm and stuffy. Wishing to let in some fresh air, Leslie crossed the living room to the French doors which opened to a faux balcony overlooking the tiny side street below. She turned the latch and as she placed her hands on the knobs, she raised her eyes and froze for an instant.

The contrast between the darkness outside and the dim light within was sufficient to turn the panes of the French doors into mirrors and coming towards her at an increasing pace was the man she had seen in the elevator that afternoon.

Turning the knobs, she pulled both doors open and dropped into a crouch at precisely the moment he reached her. Grasping only open air in surprise as he lunged, the man toppled forward as he tripped over Leslie, his shins on her back, his ribs crashing hard against the railing outside. At the same moment, Leslie pushed upward, rising from her crouched position and effectively catapulting the man’s legs into the air… and out the open doors and over the railing.

She heard the dull thud a second before clutching the railing and looking down. Even from her fourth floor viewpoint, she was convinced the man had not survived the fall. The peculiar angle of his neck was a dead giveaway.

About Femme Fatale

Doesn’t everyone fantasize a bit about vigilante justice? Haven’t you ever read or heard of some despicable act of violence and secretly wished you could have the opportunity to make the predator pay? Welcome to the VIGILANTE Series, a growing collection of suspense best sellers best described as thrillers and mysteries which will have you cheering for the assassin as justice is delivered in a clandestine fashion. But remember, this is fiction so it’s not a crime.

Book 7 of the VIGILANTE Series

Less than two years ago, Leslie Robb, an accountant working for the Imperial National Bank, had seen her life-partner and co-worker, Gina, shot to death during a bank heist. Taken as a hostage along with millionaire and Discreet Activities operative, Chris Barry, Leslie had played an integral role in helping the DA team bring the offenders down.

As a result of her sang-froid, sense of moral justice and martial arts affinities, Leslie left the world of finance to join the elite clandestine agency to fight crime… Now, she has a new partner in life, Dominique Petit, who suggests Leslie visit with her while she is in Paris on business.

Less than twenty-four hours after Leslie arrives, Dominique and her sister, Corinne, disappear, turning Leslie’s vacation into her own business trip of justice and revenge…

Get it on Amazon.

About the author

Claude was born in Montreal, Canada, at a very young age, where he still resides with his spouse, Joanne, under the watchful eye of Krystalle and Midnight, two black females of the feline persuasion. In a former life, he completed his studies at McGill University and worked in various management capacities for a handful of firms over countless years. From there, considering his extensive background in human resources and finance, it was a logical leap in his career path to stay home and write crime thrillers.

Get to know Claude on his:

And follow him on Twitter @ceebee308.

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Thursday Teaser: Trouble Magnet

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Eliza Carlisle Mystery Book 1

By DelSheree Gladden

“I didn’t kill her!” Baxter shouted. Several heads turned our way, which only pissed him off even more. Jamming a finger in my direction, he said, “You’ve been here less than twenty-four hours and you think you have any idea what it’s like to live in this insane asylum? Everyone in this building has motive to kill Ms. Sinclair.”

Jerking me back behind him, the officer stepped up in front of Baxter. “Why, exactly, would someone in this building want to stab to death a harmless old lady?”

“She was stabbed to death?” I whispered. The officer reached out to steady me again, but didn’t take his eyes off Baxter.

“I’m not saying anyone in this building killed her,” Baxter said through his teeth, “especially not me, but she made everyone’s lives hell in this building, turning people in for the smallest infractions, lying if she couldn’t find anything legitimate, writing up her own tickets and taping them to people’s doors. I doubt you’ll find a single person in this building who didn’t have a beef with her, but I doubt any of them actually killed her.”

With a smug look plastered across his face, the officer asked, “And why not?”

“It’s against the rules,” Baxter said.

I totally got what he meant, but the officer’s smugness slipped away as confusion set in. “Of course it is,” he snapped. “It’s against the law to murder people no matter where you live, not just in this building.”

Rolling his eyes and grinding his teeth, Baxter stretched his neck and shoulders to ease away some of his frustration. “No kidding, you moron,” he said, “but that’s not what I was talking about. The lease agreement we all had to sign prohibits physical violence against other residents. If you break the rule, you and your whole family are out. No second chances. Lose your temper and throw a punch, and the cheapest rent in town, in one of the nicest old buildings in town, will blacklist you for the rest of your life.”

The officer stared at him for a moment, probably trying to figure out whether Baxter was serious or not. He was definitely serious. Eventually, the brilliant officer seemed to realize Baxter wasn’t lying and backed down by a hair.

“That may be, but I still think a few questions are in order.”

Getting his hackles up all over again, Baxter pointed past the good officer to me. “Maybe you should start with her, then. She’s new, so no one knows anything about her, and she said she was going to kill her sister last night.”

I knew he’d heard me! “I didn’t mean it, and you know it!” I snapped. Baxter stepped forward, ignoring the officer and getting practically nose to nose with me. Well, more like my nose to his Adam’s apple. His towering didn’t make me back down this time, not with his petty accusation hanging between us.

“Next time,” he said, “don’t go around pointing fingers at people based off nothing, and people will stay out of your business, too.”

“Maybe you should stop barging into offices yelling about TV volume and cats and screaming at your neighbors in the hallways, then nobody would be in your business, either.”

The officer may not have been the brightest crayon in the box, but he was brave enough to step between Baxter and me and push us each back a few steps. “How about the both of you stick around to answer a few questions since you’re both so keen on pointing the finger? I’m sure we’ll get this all squared away in no time.”

About Trouble Magnet

Eliza Carlisle has the unwanted talent of attracting trouble, in all its forms. That couldn’t be truer than when she moves into the most bizarre apartment building on the planet. Weekly required dinners with the landlord and assigned chores are bad enough, but the rules don’t end there. Top most on the list of requirements is NO physical violence against the others residents.

There have been issues.

In the past.

The young manager, Sonya, claims that hasn’t been a problem recently, but Eliza comes home from her first day of culinary school to find a dead resident, her next door neighbor looking good for the crime, and a cop that seems more interested in harassing her than solving the case.

All Eliza wanted was to escape her past and start over, completely anonymous in a big city. That’s not going to be so easy when the killer thinks she’s made off with a valuable piece of evidence everyone is trying to get their hands on. The ultimatum that she turn it over to save her own life creates a small problem. Eliza has no idea what the killer wants, or where the mysterious object might be. If she can’t uncover a decades old mystery in time, surviving culinary school will be the least of her problems.

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About the author

USA Today Bestselling Young Adult and Romance Author DelSheree Gladden loves books—reading them and writing them.

The Southwest is a big influence in her writing because of its culture, beauty, and mythology. Local folk lore is strongly rooted in her writing, particularly ideas of prophecy, destiny, and talents born from natural abilities.

DelSheree lives in New Mexico with her husband and two children. When she is not writing, DelSheree is usually reading, painting, sewing, or working as a Dental Hygienist.

Get to know DelSheree at:

And follow her on Twitter @Delsheree.

 

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Thursday Teaser: Once Upon a [Stolen] Time

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By Samreen Ahsan

Once Upon A [Stolen\ TimeShe is standing in my courtyard. Everything in nature surrounds her—hugs her and is dazzled by her…including me.

Beautiful flowers of every hue and aroma are grown in this majestic garden. My eyes are burning; I’m simultaneously overwhelmed and awed by the colorful oasis. Never have I been so close to nature, to growing things. Her alchemy drives me mad.

She’s gifted me with all the colors, but I painted her with darkness.

As much as I crave feeling the sunlight and the flowers against my skin, I want her touch too. I am cursed and doomed to never experience the beauty of the natural world, for all eternity.

She watches me with extreme hatred in her eyes—her gaze throwing fireballs at me. She doesn’t know I’m already burning, but since she despises me so much, I can’t even dare to come close to her. I want to end this tortuous distance between us—but I was the one who created this hatred in her.

She was a beautiful tender rose—I stole her fragrance, crushed her petals and burned her in hell. If I knew the fire with which I was conflagrating her would come to engulf me—I swear I wouldn’t have done it. Her spell is too strong for me not to fall; her curse is too mighty for me to run away.

Her deadly yet magical existence haunts me, excites me and has thrown me into a pit of deep lust. She is my prisoner, but she doesn’t realize that I’m the one who’s already submitted to her slavery, when I first touched her.

Despite being her captor, I am still her captive.

About Once Upon a [Stolen] Time

2015…

GiftedMeAll her life, Myra Farrow has been obsessed with medieval castles—and the kings and princes who once inhabited them. Now, wealthy videogame designer Steve Bernard wants her to model for a princess character in his new game. Myra can’t resist his offer, especially when she learns that Steve plans to film inside the mysterious Hue Castle—a cursed, barren, colorless place forbidden to visitors for centuries. But unknown to Myra, her soul is bound to Hue Castle by blood and sorcery. When she enters its doors, she awakens dark powers that will reach through time—stealing her past, torturing her present, and rewriting her future.

1415…

Edward Hue, the last of the Hue royal bloodline, has never stood in the sunshine or held a living flower. Cursed from birth to live in darkness and bring death to all he touches, he is at the mercy of his cruel, tyrannical father, who will not rest until he shatters Edward’s soul and makes his son into a diabolical copy of himself. Edward’s one hope is the mysterious woman who haunts his dreams—who will either break his curse and bring him out of the darkness, or destroy him utterly.

For Myra and Edward, past and future collide in a tale of love, obsession, betrayal, and the hope for redemption.

Once Upon A [Stolen] Time is available at:

About the author

History, art and literature are Samreen Ahsan’s passions. She loves digging out information about prophecies, divine miracles and paranormal events that are mentioned in history and holy books, but don’t sound possible in today’s modern world.

She has been into reading and writing since childhood — it cannot happen without imagination, which luckily has no boundaries. Dance and music are also pastimes she enjoys, as well as reading romance fiction. I love to travel and explore historical cities.

Samreen Ahsan lives in Toronto, Canada. A Silent Prayer (A Prayer Series) is her first story about paranormal events based on Islamic concepts.

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