Book Review: Runners (Oakley, #2) by Phil Oakley

Runners by Phil Oakley
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

This absorbing family drama continues as the nation survives the Depression, Prohibition, and World War II.

Runners is the second book in Phil Oakley’s fictional saga based on his own family history, and it is an emotional and heart-wrenching dive into not only theirs but also the nation’s past. The author gives readers truly relatable characters, putting names and faces on previously anonymous beings who survived the Depression, Prohibition, the Dust Bowl devastation of Oklahoma, and World War II. These events deeply affected his and every other family in the country during those times.

Judge Walter Oakley and his wife, Ada, are undoubtedly strong people, but after the constant strain of the times and the barrage of personal family tragedies, the cracks in their armor began to show. It was quite an emotional rollercoaster reading what they experienced. Early on, I wept along with Ada when she had no idea where young Ray had gone off to, whether he was alive or dead, whether she’d ever see her youngest child ever again, all while grieving the loss of an elder son, Glenn.

The book is rife with vibrant settings and vivid descriptions, and I easily imagined what it was like for Ray to ride the rails while learning it was not at all the romantic experience as pictured in films. The same can be said of Ralph’s activities on the Louisiana coast, smuggling liquor, or Jimmie’s wild child life drinking and partying in speakeasies. The stories are so visual I felt like I was seeing things firsthand alongside the characters. The author tells an absorbing tale. For being two strong pillars of their community, the Oakley’s children almost all sow a lot of wild oats or live recklessly. Some eventually learn a lesson and come out better for the experience, while others do not.

As this is the second book in the series, much of what I imagine was covered in the previous book, had I read it, would have helped me enjoy and understand this one better. I had some difficulty figuring out who many of the characters were, having to determine that from context as the story progressed. The author often mentioned names of people who hadn’t been introduced in this book at that point, and that was confusing. Sometimes, an explanation would soon follow, as in the case of Jimmie’s friend, Lewis. Still, at other times, I was left in the dark for quite some time, as in the case of figuring out how many children there were in the Oakley family, their names, genders (Jimmie), and their position in the family. Their backstories were missing from this book in the series. I also experienced a bit of confusion regarding the timeline as the author jumps around some as he picks up the story of a different sibling. Eventually, my understanding did clear up, but by that time, I was well into the family drama. I feel that for the best reading experience, the two books should be read in chronological order.

I recommend RUNNERS to readers of historical fiction, family dramas and sagas, especially those who enjoy stories based on real people.

I voluntarily reviewed this after receiving an Advanced Review Copy from the author through Lone Star Book Blog Tours.


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Teaser Book Blitz: Warrior Queen by Mikala Ash

Warrior Queen

Empire of the Sky, Book Six

by

Mikala Ash

LGBTQ+ / Steampunk / Romance

Publisher: Changeling Press LLC

Publication Date: April 4, 2025

Page count: 134 pages

SYNOPSIS:

A volatile cauldron of magic, love, and the empire may be on the edge of a precipice, but witches, humans, and automatons indulge in pleasures of the flesh.

Victoria has been dubbed by her adoring public as their Warrior Queen. Destroying her Continental enemies is nothing to the challenge she faces now. For years, the Lunarians, goblins from the moon, led by the powerful witch Mon Ilson, have been murdering humans and stealing the bodies for his followers to “adopt.”

Beautiful witch Selena Whiteheart, Mon Ilson’s human agent on Earth, is closely watched by Home Office Agent Harry Kincaid, whose loyalty to the Queen suppresses his ability to show Selena his true feelings. Spiritualist Miss Cordelia Warrington has been exploring the carnal attributes and mechanical stamina of Adam, her automaton butler. Now Selena needs Cordelia’s help, and allows herself to be entertained by the amorous pair in a steamy ménage à trois.

Meanwhile, Agent of the Queen Rachel Clayton is instantly attracted to the hauntingly handsome Major Guy Tremayne, hero of the Coronation Island disaster. Can he be trusted? She throws all caution to the wind to find out. At a crucial moment the Queen is cruelly betrayed and threatened with assassination. Selena, Rachel, and Victoria all face difficult choices as love and lust compete with their duty to the Empire.

Author’s Note: Enjoy Warrior Queen as a standalone tale or as part of a continuing narrative.

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ENJOY AN EXCERPT:

Thwack!

Thwack!

The sound of two cane sticks striking each other reminded me of how a scant two hours ago the Home Secretary had slapped my posterior as he ravaged me. Pressed for time he’d unceremoniously bent me over his Whitehall desk, pulled down my culottes and drawers, grabbed my shoulders for leverage, and drove his prodigious erection into me with frightful force. A few minutes later he flooded my quivering cunt with his lava hot seed. It had been a perfunctory fuck, short and sharp, and my climax perversely satisfying.

My cunny still retained a fair quantity of his ejaculation, and I shifted in my seat contriving to put pressure on my fleshy nether lips to keep it from escaping. My apparently not-so-subtle contortions did not escape the notice of the fine-looking man sitting opposite me. I’d quite forgotten about him as I relived the morning’s carnal adventure. He cleared his throat which brought me back to the here and now.

I was sitting in a Buckingham Palace anteroom, and I felt my cheeks warm under the scrutiny of this ruggedly handsome and smartly uniformed officer. When I’d first arrived, he’d introduced himself as Guy Tremayne. He was in fact the famous Major of the Southern Royal Air Corps who’d distinguished himself by leading the survivors of an airship crash on Coronation Island, a frozen rock midway between Tierra Del Fuego and Antarctica. Their inspirational struggle for survival on the barren island was a true Boys Own Adventure. I’d read his file during my recent convalescence and believed Major Tremayne to be a brave and resourceful officer, respected by his men and superiors alike.

He had given me an elegant bow, took my proffered hand, and lightly brushed his lips against my knuckles. To say I was instantly attracted would be an understatement. He was the epitome of masculinity: well over six feet tall, slim, and long legged. His hips were narrow, his chest deep, and his shoulders broad. His sharply chiselled face was suntanned, and above a thin black moustache his nose was pleasantly symmetrical. The palest of blue eyes gave his countenance a strikingly mysterious and yet desirable aspect.

My cunny throbbed.

He was sitting as if he was on parade with his back straight as a board. He’d started his career in the cavalry, and I couldn’t help but imagine him in the saddle riding into battle, his sabre held high, its razor edge glinting in the sun. He’d actually seen combat, and his curly hair disguised the missing left ear, lost during a bloody skirmish in the Punjab.

Thwack! Thwack!

“Do you singlestick?” I asked him, my mouth dry, and my voice husky.

Thwack! Thwack!

The corners of his mouth curled into a smile. “Indeed, I do. The sabre is my weapon of choice.”

Singlestick fighting had been a feature of English martial life for centuries and cavalry men used it for practicing sabre strokes from horseback. Though the sport had become highly regimented, it required fast reflexes and strict discipline. I found it useful for developing forearm and wrist strength.

Thwack! Thwack!

“Perhaps we should have a bout?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

Thwack! Thwack!

My cunt throbbed lustily, and inside my blouse, my nipples ached. I licked my bottom lip, slowly. “Are you residing in London?”

He threw up his hands. “Alas. I exist at the whim of the War Department.”

Thwack! Thwack!

“Then we should arrange a time soon.”

“I believe I am free tomorrow evening.”

“As it happens, so am I.”

Thwack! Thwack!

We’d just concluded arrangements to meet at a restaurant in Chelsea when the door to the anteroom opened, and a footman showed in a slim, elegantly dressed woman. She was about forty years of age, with an attractive oval face and perfect complexion accentuated by challenging hazel eyes and provocatively painted red lips. Her luxurious auburn hair was coiled expertly around her head in such a way that suggested considerable length. The bulk was held in place with gem-tipped pins which glinted in the harsh electric light. I imagined her standing naked, her hair cascading over her ample breasts, reaching and discreetly hiding her mound of Venus. I recognised her as the wife of a member of the House of Lords, and this sensual impression I’d constructed was at odds with her reputation. She was known as a straitlaced prude, active in charitable institutions and a fierce and passionate advocate for women’s suffrage. On one occasion she’d been seen at a rally striking a constable with a placard after she accused him of taking undisclosed liberties.

I curtsied. “Lady Fogerty, I’m Rachel Clayton.”

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Aussie Mikala Ash used to be a mild-mannered training & development consultant by day, and a wild sci-fi and paranormal adventure writer by night. Now she is a brazen full-time writer and nature photographer who is concentrating on having among other things, “… bags, and bags of fun!” Mikala can be found on Facebook and on Twitter.

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Book Review: When the Actor Inspired Chaos and Bloodshed by Nicholas Litchfield

When The Actor Inspired Chaos and Bloodshed by Nicholas Litchfield
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

The riveting tale of an actor unwittingly drawn into an obsessed director’s dangerous vision for an action/adventure cult film.

When the Actor Inspired Chaos and Bloodshed is Nicholas Litchfield’s riveting story of a struggling Hollywood actor cast as the “career-making” lead in a South American director’s upcoming action/adventure film. Enticed by his agent’s claims that this is sure to be his break-out role and the director’s early successes, actor Dominic Graves soon finds himself heading to Uruguay, anticipating 10 weeks on set in a beautiful seaside location. However, the amenable location may end up being the only promise fulfilled of the entire experience.Dominic Graves is a 31-year-old, five-year veteran of the Hollywood scene, but with only a handful of B-movie credits to his name, his signature megawatt smile is starting to dim. His agent, Bernie Finkelman, a horrid and abusive old man with rumored ties to the Mafia, is no longer an active advocate for Dominic’s career and has sold him a few “bill of goods” jobs in the past, so he’s understandably wary. However, Dominic, who has earned a reputation for hard drinking and carousing while on a project, starts drinking on the flight to Uruguay and takes some of his worst, self-destructive habits with him into this new opportunity, negatively impressing the other members of the cast and crew. Ignatio Martinez, the vision-driven and cliché-spouting director, only contributes to Dominic’s troubles with pre-dawn to late-night workdays, no downtime, and numerous unnecessary takes of scene after scene after scene. Add in a leading lady with a history with the director and desperate for a big career, who clings to whomever she currently deems most beneficial to her goal, including her new leading man, and the filming becomes a nightmare. Scores of unhappy film industry professionals are trapped working on a project that quickly begins to look like it will ever see distribution.

The plot is well-paced, with an absolute gem of an opening that guaranteed my continued reading. Dominic is an engaging character, and I couldn’t look away as he immediately began making a series of unfortunate behavioral choices and what he experienced once on set. The behind-the-scenes glimpses of film creation were interesting, and the discussions around the practical aspects, especially the safety concerns for those involved, were fascinating. The suspense built steadily, and I had a constant, fearful anticipation of what would happen next and whether or not Dominic would even survive principal photography.

I recommend WHEN THE ACTOR INSPIRED CHAOS AND BLOODSHED to readers interested in tales of filmmaking gone awry.

I voluntarily reviewed this after receiving an Advanced Review Copy from Reedsy Discovery.

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Book Blast & Giveaway: Murder on the Steel Pier (Tess Mancini Time Travel Mystery, #1) by Rosie Genova

MURDER ON THE STEEL PIER

by Rosie Genova

April 1, 2025 Book Blast

Synopsis:

THE TESS MANCINI TIME TRAVEL MYSTERY SERIES 

Greetings from the Nifty Fifties…

The morning after a blowout birthday celebration in Atlantic City, crime reporter and party girl Tess Mancini wakes up in an unfamiliar place—1955. Bread is eighteen cents a loaf, Ike occupies the White House, and the Boardwalk is crawling with vintage cars and vintage wise guys. A bewildered Tess is sure of only two things: One, she’s not crazy, and two, the clothes are fabulous. Somehow, she’s living the life of her Great-Aunt Theresa, who disappeared decades before Tess’s birth.

In her 1950s existence, Tess is a reporter at the local newspaper, living at a boarding house owned by her Zia Antonetta, an Italian immigrant with a big secret. It turns out Theresa has a kid brother, teenaged troublemaker Val Mancini—aka Tess’s paternal grandfather. Though determined to return to her own time, Tess’s curiosity takes over. What happened to the first Theresa Mancini? And is Tess’s trip through time connected to her aunt’s fate?

But when young Val is accused of murdering a boarding house guest, a Nazi in hiding, Tess ends up with two investigations on her hands—and now stuck in time until she can prove Val’s innocence. As she searches for answers, she finds allies in a dishy police detective and a suspiciously charming fellow reporter. The clock is ticking for Tess to find a way home, but first, she has to keep her grandfather off Death Row.

Because before Tess can get back to the future … she needs to make sure she has one.

Praise for Murder on the Steel Pier:

"Murder on the Steel Pier is impossible to put down, offering an irresistible blend of mystery, history, and time travel. I felt like I was in 1950s Atlantic City along with heroine Tess. Unlike her, I didn’t want to leave! I absolutely loved this book and can’t wait for Tess’s next adventure."
~ Ellen Byron, Agatha Award-Winning Author

"Awesome book! This stylish, creatively written and highly entertaining mystery will keep you turning pages long past bedtime."
~ Terrie Farley Moran, award-winning author of the Murder, She Wrote series

Book Details:

Genre: Historical Mystery
Published by: Two Roses Books
Publication Date: March 31, 2025
Number of Pages: 340
ISBN: 979-8-9911241-1-9
Series: The Tess Mancini Time Travel Mysteries, Book 1
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | AppleBooks | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

From Chapter 1

Someone was smoking a cigarette. I sniffed, and spikes of pain started at my chin and shot through the top of my head. Oh God, make it stop, and I promise I’ll never touch another drop of tequila. Being another year older was bad enough—did I have to be punished for it, too? My nose twitched as the smoke teased my nostrils and caressed my olfactory nerves. I’d quit a month ago, but the longing for a cig came roaring back.

With my eyes still closed, and my head nailed to the pillow, I had one coherent thought: This is supposed to be a smoke-free hotel. As far as I knew, it was also bird-free, but the chirps and twitters assailing my ears were clearly coming from feathered creatures. Then again, it’s Atlantic City. Maybe the birds were part of the hotel show. Ever so slowly, I slid my hands from under the covers and cupped them over my ears.

“Please, birdies,” I whispered. “Stop singing.” Geez, they sounded close enough to be in my room. I exhaled, yoga style. C’mon, Tess, time to open your eyes. You can do it. Actually, I couldn’t, as my lashes were glued together. (Had I slept in my make-up? Not a good sign.) Still covering my ears against the piercing bird song, I fluttered my left eyelid and squinted.

Big, fuchsia-colored roses seemed to scream at me from the wall. And sun—blinding, eyeball-searing sun—streamed in through an uncovered window. And not a hotel window bolted shut and draped to keep out that awful light, but a wooden one with glass panes. And across the top, a ruffly white curtain.

Okay, not my hotel. So where was I? My empty stomach grew queasy; I wouldn’t have gone home with a stranger. Though I did remember a cute blond guy playing the slots next to me, but it was all so … blurry. I eased open the other eye. Across the room was a vanity table draped in more white ruffles. Somehow, I doubted the blond guy lived here.

This place was obviously some kind of historic inn or something, but that still didn’t explain how I’d gotten here. I looked down at the sheets, also decorated with roses. Only these were little yellow ones. Somebody sure liked her florals.

“So weird,” I muttered. Hands shaking, eyes half closed, I felt around for my phone, but my fingers landed on a string of beads. I let go of the necklace and blinked hard, trying to ignore the little flashes of pain behind my eyes. Next to me was an old-fashioned nightstand; on it was a lamp with a frilly pink shade, an analog alarm clock ticking loudly, and the “necklace,” which had a cross hanging from it. A face stared at me from a black-and-white photo. I shifted closer, peering at a guy with slicked-back hair, thick brows, and dark-lashed eyes. Across the bottom of the picture was a name, signed in blue ink. I frowned at the image. Who the heck was Tyrone Power? Was he someone’s boyfriend? Or part of the décor?

Hangover and rubber legs be damned, I had to get moving and find my phone. But before I could get a big toe out from under the covers, a knock sounded at the door. I sat up in the strange bed, holding my throbbing head as though it were a soft-boiled egg.

“Tess? Are you awake yet?” The voice on the other side of the door had a slight Irish brogue. “Can I come in, then?”

“Yes,” I croaked. Whoever she was, she knew my name. Despite the sunlight, the room was chilly, and I huddled under the cotton blankets as the woman bustled in holding a small tray. I sniffed coffee and toast, and when she set it down on the nightstand, my stomach gurgled audibly.

“Now,” she said, wiping her hands on her apron, “we served breakfast some time ago, and when you didn’t come down, I knew you’d be oversleepin’ again. Your auntie will have my hide and your own if you don’t get down to that kitchen.” She crossed her ample arms and sent me a stern look. “You know we don’t serve anyone in their rooms, guests or otherwise, but Carolina insisted I bring you your coffee. Said you’re no good without it.”

I looked up at a broad-shouldered woman in a green housedress. Over that was an apron in a loud, orange-and-green pattern of forks and spoons. Her thick white hair, twisted into a bun, was bright against her weathered skin. Her small dark eyes gave the impression of two raisins set in a gingerbread face. I’d never seen her before in my life.

“Sorry, Mrs. Flaherty.” How did I know that? It surely must have been her name because she didn’t correct me. I sat up quickly, my mouth hanging open in shock, and the blankets slipped to my waist.

Mrs. Flaherty took a step closer to the bed and narrowed her eyes at me. “Just what are you wearing, missy?” What was I wearing? I glanced down at the cursive “T” stitched on the pocket of my favorite monogrammed PJs. Expensive ones. And why did she care? I opened my mouth to answer, but Mrs. F got there ahead of me. “They’re silk,” she hissed. “And black, for the Lord’s sake.”

“Uh huh,” I said slowly, wondering if she commented on the nightwear of all her guests. Still, I pulled the blankets up to my chin.

“Best not let your auntie see them. Don’t know how in the world you afford such things,” she grumbled. “Eat up quick now, and bring down that tray when you’re through.”

“Okay,” I whispered, staring at the door she closed behind her…

***

Excerpt from Murder on the Steel Pier by Rosie Genova. Copyright 2025 by Rosie Genova. Reproduced with permission from Rosie Genova. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Proud Jersey girl Rosie Genova is a multi-genre author. Her work includes a Jersey shore cozy series, The Italian Kitchen Mysteries, and The Tess Mancini Time Travel Mysteries, set in 1955 Atlantic City. She is also the author of standalone suspense and a couple of rom-coms that presently live in her computer files (but are longing to be released into the wild). A former teacher and journalist, Rosie’s non-fiction has appeared in a variety of publications, including Entrepreneur magazine and The New York Times. The mother of three sons, Rosie still lives in her favorite state with her husband, too many dusty antiques, and a charming mutt named Lucy.

Catch Up With Rosie Genova:

www.RosieGenova.com
Amazon Author Profile
Goodreads
BookBub - @RosieGenova
Facebook - @RosieGenova

 

 

Review:

Coming soon!

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