Virtual Book Tour & Giveaway: The Silvery Path (The Underworlds) by Dennis Scheel

THE SILVER PATH

 THE UNDERWORLDS

by

Dennis Scheel

Fantasy / Science Fiction

Publication Date: June 20, 2024

Page count: 412 pages

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SYNOPSIS:

Will it end in peace or a silvery dose of fate?

Henna’s manipulation knows no bounds,

Denida is still the object of her prophecy, while Lucifer, God, and Gabriel remain in her sights.

Having seen her son, Nina is more determined than ever to bring him back from Henna’s world of dead souls. Meanwhile, the Darkness runs rampant across the Underworlds and on Earth as Lucifer’s grief over Heavani’s death overwhelms him.

Everyone has their own goals and ends, but one thing is inescapable: the bright silvery path that Henna willed.

Can these characters escape destiny’s hold on them, or will they become pawns in Henna’s quest for revenge?

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ENJOY AN EXCERPT:

The Colonel sat in front of a cluster of seven monitors, which displayed live feeds from robots across the Underworlds. Naphtali spoke to the Colonel from World Eight’s feed.
 
“Things will be different with Dan in charge, won’t it?” Naphtali asked.
 
The Colonel shrugged. “I sure hope not. Denida left him in charge, so it shouldn’t be that bad. Thankfully, we don’t have any demons running amuck anymore.”
 
“Yeah, everything’s better, now.” Naphtali smiled widely.
 
“I wonder…” The Colonel scratched his head. “- if this ‘war’ of Lucifer’s will change that.”
 
Naphtali’s smile froze. “War?”
 
“The one against Heaven.”
 
Naphtali gasped. “Lucifer wants war with Heaven? I thought God and Lucifer would always just have a private power struggle between themselves.”
 
Why does it matter?
 
“Beep,” a monitor a few screens away flicked on.
 
The Colonel tilted his head. Earth? “Just a sec, Naphtali.” He approached the monitor.
 
“Is anyone there? Demons are attacking us!” a soldier stared in the camera with wide, bloodshot eyes, as a demon tackled him, terminating the feed.
 
How can demons be on Earth? The Colonel wiped a bead of sweat on the back of his neck.
 
“John!” Naphtali hollered.
 
The Colonel blinked out of his daze and hurried back to World Eight’s feed.
 
Naphtali sat hunched over at the monitor, drenched in blood.
 
“What happened to you?”
 
“Demons,” Naphtali murmured. “Inform Denida.”
 
The Colonel nodded. “Are you okay to get cleaned up and-”
 
Naphtali spun around to a scuffle. A pair of demons slammed him into the feed, cutting the signal.
 
“Naphtali!” The Colonel punched the keys and shook the monitor. “Work, dammit!” After a few minutes of his eyes growing wide with concern, he jumped up and ran out, sprinting though the offices, eventually slamming through a door. “Dan!”
 
“What is it, now?” Dan put laid his pen on his desk and frowned.
 
“Demons… Naphtali needs our assistance. It’s not just Earth.”
 
“Naph…” Dan leaned back in his chair with a pensive expression.
 
“On World Eight, the former demon,” the Colonel reminded Dan.
 
Dan lit up, but bit his lip with concern. “Why are there demons in the Underworlds? I thought Denida ended that invasion.”
 
“Lucifer threw Denida out of Hell. He doesn’t give a rat’s ass about Denida’s deal, anymore.”

BOOK TRAILER:

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GUEST POST:

Please welcome today's featured author, Dennis Scheel, to the blog to discuss his writing relationship with his characters.

"Do your characters seem to hijack the story or do you feel like you have the reins of the story?

DENNIS: I mostly have the reins, but my story has some very strong-willed characters in all my books so I can’t really argue I’m in complete control. There a few characters whose dominant personalities are hard to avoid. (Maybe Henna wills me to write it her way, heh.)

Each of the four books in the series are all a ‘beast in itself,’ and that is only somewhat attributable to the characters. Henna has been overshadowing everyone since Rejecting Destiny, and with The Silvery Path, she still manipulates events behind the scenes. She was in control before that too, but her presence was not revealed until Rejecting Destiny. The time has come for other characters to take back control of their own destinies and overpower her will through a force of newly acquired awareness.

When my characters do hijack the story, eventually, the narrative has to come back under my control, so that the tale doesn’t turn into a tour de force, even if the conclusion isn’t fully in-line with what some of the characters wanted. Someone has to come out on top, after all, so not everyone can ‘win’. My characters have yet to be able to change an ending! (Luckily, this turned out to be the last of the Underworlds tales, because I’m thinking that if I wrote a fifth book, it would turn into a horror story where the characters would come out of the pages and torture me like in ‘Misery.’ Ha!)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Writing about myself… oh, the horror! 

As a Christmas Child, I believe magic is everywhere, especially during the winter, and I try to weave that magic into my stories. After all, my firm belief in karma and destiny has shaped who I am, so it should guide my stories, as well. 

I was born and raised in Denmark, but faced many challenges during my life, one of which was my inability to write my stories in Danish! I’ve had my stories brewing in my head since I was a child and struggled for years to express them properly. After recovering from a diabetic attack that left me hospitalized, I managed to find my writer’s voice in English, and am thrilled to now have the ability to share my tales with you.

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Preorder Blitz: Bear (Grim Road MC, #5) by Marteeka Karland

A Bones MC Romance

Grim Road MC, Book 5

 

Motorcycle Club Romance

Date Published: July 12, 2024

Publisher: Changeling Press

 

Olivia: I’ve been sent to infiltrate Grim Road -- specifically looking for any information to do with the man they call Bear. I didn’t expect to jump into the man’s arms on the first try. I also didn’t expect to feel an illogical sense of belonging and safety when he whispered in my ear, “You’re safe.” My deception will probably get me killed. I’m not a damsel in distress, at least not how they think. But I think Bear knows I’m lying. He just doesn’t seem to care.

Bear: Yeah, I know the girl’s lyin’. I also happen to believe she has a good reason. If I can get her to trust me, then I can make her demons disappear. But trust is hard-earned. Even if I earn hers, can I trust her after she started out with lies? Do I really care if she’s lying as long as she’s mine? Trouble’s following this girl. And it’s headed straight to Grim Road.

 

WARNING: Bear includes scenes of graphic violence and adult situations including those that may be triggers for some readers. There’s also a protective hero, a determined heroine, and an eventual happy ending. No cheating, as always.

 

EXCERPT

 

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2024 Marteeka Karland

 

Bear

I hated venturing out into the city. Always made me feel like there was a target on my fucking back. My true identity was buried so deep even facial recognition software couldn’t find me, but since I’d been in my twenties, I’d spent my life running. The government saw to that.

What I thought was a service to help my country turned into a killing spree on the order of genocide. I’d disobeyed my orders but ended up on a Terminate with Extreme Prejudice list. Rocket, the closest person I had to a friend, had brought me to Riviera Beach, Florida, where I’d taken up with the motorcycle club, Grim Road. The club’s history was long and distinguished in hiding men like me. I’d been here ever since.

It was nearly midnight on a Saturday. The streets weren’t exactly teaming, but several bars were open, which was where most people were this time of night. Some headed home. Others milled about enjoying the evening air. It wasn’t cool by any means, but the night brought in a breeze from the ocean that wasn’t stifled by the heat of the sun during the day. This was my favorite part of the night.

“You lookin’ for somethin’ in particular or just wishin’ you could go back and change your life choices?” Ringo, our enforcer, sidled up next to me, handing me a beer.

“Thanks,” I said as I popped the top and took a long swig. “Just thinkin’. Ain’t much for bein’ out of the compound.”

“Oh, I know. Which is why I followed.” The other man gave me a half smirk, half smile.

“Right. That, and Lemon probably told you to have my back.”

He chuckled. “Little witch is certainly big on that kinda shit. But no. You’ll be happy to know I did this all on my own.”

I gave him a side eye. “Really. You tryin’ to keep me honest? Afraid I’m out to betray the club?”

Instantly, Ringo’s whole demeanor changed. “Hey, now. Jumping to conclusions there, Bear?” Ringo raised an eyebrow. “Of all the men in this club, you’d be the last one I’d accuse of betraying the club or anyone in it. Fully expected Rocket to make you his VP. I’d have supported that.”

I snorted. “No way in fuckin’ hell I want that job. Besides, Lemon is much better suited.”

“Ain’t sayin’ she’s not. Just sayin’ I was surprised when Rocket didn’t put your name in the hat for the job long before Lemon came on the scene.”

The two of us headed down the sidewalk. Kind of felt like we were patrolling the area. There were several bars and clubs here, and some of them weren’t altogether safe. A couple times a week, I’d taken to walking up and down the strip. I wouldn’t say I was looking for trouble, but I wasn’t opposed to stopping trouble if it found me. The self-imposed job got me out of the compound as well as extended some measure of protection to the community which pleased the VP to no end. I wouldn’t exactly call the city our community, but I got the impression that’s what Lemon wanted it to be. Crush and Byte worked continually to strengthen all our identity covers. Rocket wasn’t opposed, so I took this as my due diligence. I was doing my part, however quietly, to set an example to the other members. It’s how I did things.

“He offered.” I shrugged. “Not my thing.”

“Oh, really.” The bastard smirked and I wanted to beat the shit outta him, but restrained myself. Barely. “Was that before or after you corralled us all and put the idea of voting Lemon in as VP, or after?”

“Well, I wasn’t gonna do it. Someone had to, and she was the best choice. You look me in the eye and tell me who else in Grim would be doing a better job than Lemon, and I’ll volunteer that bastard.”

Ringo chuckled. “Right. I’ll get on that. But you have to promise you’ll be the one to break the news to Lemon.”

I snorted. “Not on your fuckin’ life. Girl might be small and young, but she’s vicious like no man I’ve ever met. You tell her your own Goddamn self.”

We stared at each other a moment before Ringo’s lips twitched. Once that happened, we both broke down into chuckles. Neither of us would be suggesting a replacement for Lemon.

The conversation eased something inside me. Like I knew Ringo had my back or something where always before I’d kind of felt like I was on my own in the middle of a crowd. Yeah, I knew if I were really in trouble, outside of a mission, I could count on my brothers. Always had. But it was different now.

“Thanks, man. I think I needed that.”

“For what? The reminder that a little five-foot-nothing girl is making a better vice president than you?”

I snorted. “No, dumbass. The laugh.”

Ringo grinned. “Wait till I tell Lemon you were wanting to replace her.”

“Whoa. Not cool, bro. Besides, it was you who brought it up. And I will totally throw you under the bus if you start that bullshit.”

God, it felt good to banter with Ringo. I’d had that kind of atmosphere a couple of times on jobs for the CIA, but it was never as relaxed as it was now.

I took a deep breath and rolled my head on my shoulders, easing some of the tension that always seemed to be there when I ventured too far from the compound. It wasn’t that I was scared. It was more like I felt like someone was watching. Just waiting to make a move.

I could handle myself in an ambush. Fuck knew I’d been in that situation before and had come out on the other side. Worse for wear maybe, but the other guys fared far, far worse. Always.

Ringo snorted. “Glad to be of service, brother.”

We continued down the street. The sound of people partying or generally having a good time filled the night. Each time we passed a bar, the scent of alcohol hit us. Occasionally someone would be smoking a joint or a cigarette and those scents would blend in as well. Passing a strip joint brought the cheap perfume into the mix.

I was about to suggest we go inside one of the strip clubs, just to pass the time with something different when I spotted a woman making her way down the sidewalk. Something about the way she moved was just that little bit off. She glanced behind her, then straight ahead. She hesitated, then continued moving.

“What’s goin’ on there?” I asked the question more to myself than to Ringo, but the other man zeroed in on the woman immediately.

“Not sure. Could be she’s just lost.”

“Right,” I agreed, though I wasn’t so sure. Something about her posture wasn’t right. “Could be.”

“Uh-huh.”

We both continued forward but at a slower pace. Grim Road MC wasn’t a secret club, per se. The club was known to the locals, just not where the clubhouse was or who any of us were beyond our road names. To everyone around us, we were simply another motorcycle club in the area around Palm Beach. As such, we wore our colors proudly. So, when the girl got closer to us, and we slowed down, we wanted her to know what we were.

I stopped while Ringo turned slowly around in a circle with his hands out, letting her see the emblem on the back of his vest proclaiming him a member of Grim Road.

She let loose a little sob and ran the rest of the way to us. To my complete and utter shock, instead of stopping when she reached us, the girl threw herself into my arms, wrapping her arms tightly around my neck.

And I’ll be Goddamned if my whole body didn’t come alive. Lust I’d never even dreamed about punched me in the dick before sucking me into its mouth and making me hard as a fucking pole. The scent of her was like something out of a dream. Fresh spring flowers and a dash of cinnamon. She was slender, but I could feel every single one of her slight curves against my big body. She was so small I could easily wrap my arms all the way around her with room to spare. Unfortunately, instead of moaning and finding my mouth with hers, she trembled in my arms. I didn’t think it was from desire. Her mouth at my ear was a sinful promise. Until she spoke.

“Angela,” she whimpered. “I need Angela.”

“Hey, sweetheart,” I said loudly. “Missed you, too.” I chuckled, swinging her around happily. What I was really doing was putting my body between her and the two men I now saw following her.

I didn’t acknowledge the men. Instead, I strode down the sidewalk with her still in my arms. Ringo had my back. If he couldn’t discourage the guys, I could get her far enough away she could get inside to the relative safety of a bar or club. Then, I’d help Ringo help these motherfuckers have themselves an accident.

When I rounded the corner with her, I set her on her feet, but kept hold of her hand. Everything inside me rebelled at the separation. I wanted to pull her solidly against me again but needed to make sure I had one hand free if Ringo needed me. Stepping from behind the wall, I eyed Ringo. He stood where I’d left him, but the men were already gone. Ringo took slow looks around the area as he backed toward me. I gave a low whistle, and Ringo turned and hurried in my direction.

“Get to the bikes.” Ringo’s order was delivered in a crisp voice. “They didn’t keep following after you picked her up. You spoke and they backed off. Still don’t want to take a chance.”

“To Knox’s place?” I knew we couldn’t take her to the compound. Not without precautions. If the guys had truly backed off, she wasn’t in immediate danger. If they hadn’t, we’d reevaluate when we spotted them.

Ringo nodded. “I’ll be on your six. Just gonna let Rocket know what’s goin’ on and that we’ll call him when we know more.”

I grunted, but tugged her with me and hurried to my bike.

 

About the Author

Marteeka Karland is an international bestselling author who leads a double life as an erotic romance author by evening and a semi-domesticated housewife by day. Known for her down and dirty MC romances, Marteeka takes pleasure in spinning tales of tenacious, protective heroes and spirited, vulnerable heroines. She staunchly advocates that every character deserves a blissful ending, even, sometimes, the villains in her narratives. Her writings are speckled with intense, raw elements resulting in page-turning delight entwined with seductive escapades leading up to gratifying conclusions that elicit a sigh from her readers.

Away from the pen, Marteeka finds joy in baking and supporting her husband with their gardening activities. The late summer season is set aside for preserving the delightful harvest that springs from their combined efforts (which is mostly his efforts, but you can count it). To stay updated with Marteeka's latest adventures and forthcoming books, make sure to visit her website. Don't forget to register for her newsletter which will pepper you with a potpourri of Teeka's beloved recipes, book suggestions, autograph events, and a plethora of interesting tidbits.

 

Author on Instagram & TikTok: @marteekakarland

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Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok: @changelingpress

 

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Virtual Book Tour & Giveaway: Show Game by Steve Anderson

SHOW GAME

by Steve Anderson

July 1-12, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

A mysterious vigilante abducts powerful abusers and exposes them in a twisted “Show Game" in this psychological thriller.

The pandemic may be over, but the world is not safe for those who prey on the innocent. A vigilante known by the alias “Alex” knows what these transgressors have done. And taking them captive is only the first step toward vengeance. In order to be set free, they must first play the Show Game . . .

A predatory priest, a double-dealing politician, a fraudulent philanthropist—Alex has ways of making them confess, on camera, for all the world to witness. But the Show Game is building toward a darkly personal finale: exposing society’s most notorious and evil abuser.

As Alex gets closer to the main event, investigative reporter Owen Tanaka is determined to unmask the vigilante’s true identity and motive. But when a shocking revelation hits close to home, Owen must decide whether to stop a criminal mastermind’s devious scheme . . . or let the Show Game play its final round.

Praise for Show Game:

"Show Game is not only a high-octane thriller, it’s an urgent and timely reckoning for the sins of the past. A thriller crackling with heart and soul."
~ Jahmal Mayfield, author of Smoke Kings

"An original, thought-provoking and fast-paced novel ... This thriller is written with so much heart and brings out hope in people that good will prevail."
~ Teresa Brock, reviewer, Best Thriller Books

Book Details:

Genre: Psychological, Crime, Suspense Thriller
Published by: Open Road Media Mystery & Thriller
Publication Date: July 2, 2024
Number of Pages: 316
ISBN: 9781504086776 (ISBN10: 1504086775)
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | Open Road

Read an excerpt:

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 17

ALEX

I have the bastard, finally, I got him. Target number one. He’s cowering on the high-backed chair before me, in the near dark. We keep a single harsh light on him, a bare caged bulb hanging from one of the rafters, just above his eyes, still swinging a little. He’d tried standing twice and bumped into the bulb before my hard eyes made him drop right down again.

It was so easy. We have duct tape and various tools of the trade in a tactical backpack and are more than happy to use them. But he doesn’t even need taping up. He’s clenching the chair’s cracked leather so hard his knuckles are whiter than those pricey snow-white crowns of his. It can’t help that his seat resembles a dentist chair.

“You tricked me,” he keeps repeating. “I trusted you.”

“Sound familiar?” I say and let the question hang in the air a good minute. To see how he likes it done to him. I’ll let him fill in the rest, going back decades.

Oh, before we get too far—I will be known as “Alex.” It’s my vigilante name, for my first-ever job. I’m speaking to my target in a lower, rougher voice to help cover myself.

Dwayne Specklin, forty-nine and quivering before us, is the founder and head pastor of one of the largest megachurches in southern California, let alone the country. But before that, before he was “ordained,” he was a scoutmaster and Scout unit chaplain for many, many years. So many boys had put their trust in him.

You might see where this is going. But I’ll let Dwayne Specklin tell you, and soon.

We’re in a warehouse in San Diego. It’s only minutes from the surf and the palms and so many retired admirals’ young grandsons, but inside here it’s cold enough to be the Pacific Northwest. Up north, I’d found out, was where Dwayne had escaped justice after molesting his first ten-year-old, a lowly Cub Scout. All Dwayne had to do back then was abscond for college.

On one side of Dwayne is an aluminum briefcase, silver and dinged up, displayed upright on an old music stand. It holds video of him with boys, ready to roll on an old and unregistered iPad. Sick and vile footage. I won’t tell you what Dwayne was doing to those boys. After months of trying, I’d gotten the video from one of his accomplices—a junior pastor.

Dwayne has to know what’s inside the briefcase. It’s bathed in a red glow from the color lens of the military-grade LED flashlight mounted to our tripod.

He keeps glaring at the metal case like it’s a bomb ticking down to one.

Then I raise the handheld voice changer to my mouth. He recoils at the sight.

“Are you ready?” I say in my newly digitally warped tone. He releases a little yelp.

“Ah, now . . .” I come in close and lean down to him, just like he as Scout chaplain might have done while visiting another troubled boy at home, in a time of such dire need and defenselessness. I even stroke his plump knee gently. A heat of disgust swells in my throat.

“Are you ready?” I repeat. “It’s time to play the Show Game.”

“The wha? . . .” Dwayne’s eyes widen.

I don’t answer. In my planning, I decided to reverse the wording of “Game Show.” Let him figure it out. It’s barely afternoon. We’ve got all day and night.

I let Dwayne squint around a few moments, first at the briefcase again, then around the whole room. All he is going to find, if his bleary, puffy eyes can adjust enough, is our dim corner of an old machine shop, its only windows opening to a fully dark former manufacturing hall, both now gutted. Then there’s a cavernous warehouse surrounding that, and on and on, like some Russian doll of those abandoned factory locations from the season finales of thriller shows. I look around along with Dwayne, following his eyes and scrunched-up nose. We see corrugated metal walls, busted windows, jagged exposed bolts sawed off, and gaping holes and hatches to who knows where. Grease stains, oily puddles left from somewhere, something.

I flinch inside a moment, wondering what might have first activated my target’s depraved mind. Maybe a Scout leader or priest had committed the same abuse on Dwayne, or even his own father? Maybe Dwayne, deep down, has the same developmental age as the ones he deceives and abuses.

Who knows. Screw him.

Dwayne is looking up now, as you do, probably seeking that megachurch god he justified his crimes to—if he even bothered. But all he can probably see is the white glare of that bare bulb, and he sniffs and snorts, and his nostrils surely fill with the tang of stale oil and dead insects and the boozy metallic fear breath of his own bastard self.

Target number one is ready to play. My first contestant! I have to admit, I feel a little swell of happy warmth in my chest. I cannot reiterate how easy this has been, especially for my first. To help ease Dwayne’s stage jitters, we have a bottle of Old Taylor, ten bucks plus tax at the nearby Vons. We had offered him a paper cup, but he drank straight from the bottle despite claiming to be a lifelong teetotaler. And I was all too happy to corrupt him. The booze had made him gasp and emit a wheezing trill that left him breathing heavy and drooling. Then the tears started running down his cheeks. I was expecting vomit soon. I’d remembered to wear my waterproof boots just in case.

Talk about drinking to forget. It was far too late for that, though. Because I’m here to make Dwayno remember. Total recall.

Time to play.

“Dwayne?”

“Yes. No,” he says. “I’m not ready. I don’t get it! Who are you?

What do you want?”

“I want you to tell me what you did.”

“Did?”

“You know. All of it. And do not lie. Because we will know.”

His eyes go dead a moment. Silence ensues. He stares at his white knuckles. His face flashes green. I see it coming so I move back with a quick little two-step and the stream of hot vomit gushes out straight for the industrial floor drain we’d conveniently placed the chair near. He misses himself but it splatters, then it dribbles down the front of his pearlescent, still tucked-in golf shirt. Thank god he wipes at his chin because I’m not going to keep staring at that in this harsh downward light.

It’s such a contrast to the public Dwayne Specklin, a rotund if not fleshy fellow with pale pink skin that you never would’ve guessed spent much of its adult life in sunny California. His full head of hair somehow still more blond than gray, and a little spiky. His look reminds me of a jokey football coach, capable of either great care or extreme pressure within seconds.

He always had this little upturned grin in all those official photos and videos I researched, just one side of his mouth, but without that grin he truly does look like the eternally enabled child molester that he is. I wonder if he’d trained himself in the mirror at some point. He’s still wearing the pricey kangaroo leather sandals he had on when we’d approached him, his feet and toes soft and pedicured with a nearly white gloss.

He squints at me, and at the metal case again, then around. Squints, case, around. This repeats for like a minute.

“Who sent you?” he says finally.

Nobody sent me. I sent myself. Let him wonder why. This should be for all the victims. Let Dwayne Specklin mine his foul and barbed memory until blind.

[Chapter continues...]

***

Excerpt from Show Game by Steve Anderson. Copyright 2024 by Steve Anderson. Reproduced with permission from Steve Anderson. All rights reserved.

 

 

Review:

5 stars!

Intriguing psychological thriller with twists all the way to its exciting conclusion! 

Show Game by Steve Anderson is a riveting tale of vigilante justice, with twists and turns from start to finish. With an intricate plot that slowly reveals its secrets, like the peeling layers of an onion, and sympathetic, driven characters, this exciting tale gripped me immediately and never let me go. 

A vigilante known as "Alex" becomes judge and jury for the most blatant and heinous abusers, those who take advantage of the most innocent. After abducting the evildoers, he makes them play the "Show Game" and publicly confess, live on camera, their crimes. Seeking ultimate justice for the victims and the future of society, investigative reporter Owen Tanaka is determined to unmask the vigilante but in a shocking twist, he suddenly must decide whether to stop Alex or let the Show Game play out one more time. 

The story unfolds from two viewpoints: the mysterious Alex and the tenacious, guilt-ridden investigative reporter Owen Tanaka. I couldn't help rooting for Alex to continue to bring down and expose the powerful predators who had gotten away with abusing so many innocent boys, girls, and young women while still wanting Owen to unmask the vigilante and uncover the details of who and why. Alex's story, the motivation behind the vigilante campaign, is shocking and tragic. Owen is anxiety-prone and fearful of repeating a mistake that landed someone in jail. The guilt he bears, at times, threatens to paralyze him and prevent him from doing his job. 

The author's writing is smooth and easy to read; he's most assuredly an accomplished storyteller. This story of revenge and vengeance is an absolute page-turner. From the very first "Show Game" to the eventual fallout, I was compelled to keep reading to see things through to the final exciting conclusion. 

I recommend SHOW GAME to readers who enjoy tales of revenge, vigilante justice, and psychological thrillers.

Author Bio:

Steve Anderson is the author of numerous novels, mostly historical thrillers about gutsy underdogs. In an earlier life he earned an MA in history and was a Fulbright Fellow in Germany. Day jobs have included busy waiter, Associated Press rookie, and language instructor. He’s also written historical nonfiction and translated bestselling German novels. A hopeless soccer addict, he lives in his hometown of Portland, Oregon with his wife René.

Catch Up With Steve Anderson:
www.StephenFAnderson.com
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Instagram - @SteveAWriter
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Twitter/X - @SteveAwriter
Facebook - @SteveAndersonAuthor
Substack - @SteveAWriter

 

 

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Book Review - Bound in Silence: An Unsolved Murder in a Small Texas Town by Christena Stephens

Bound in Silence: An Unsolved Murder in a Small Texas Town by Christena Stephens
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Intriguing true crime cold case!

Bound in Silence is a deep-dive true crime book by Christena Stephens about an unsolved murder of a dynamic young couple in Littlefield, Texas, in the 1940s. Eighty years later, the events are just as shocking and bizarre as when they occurred.

Dr. Roy Hunt and his wife, Mae, were brutally murdered in their bedroom, just down the hall from where their two young daughters slept. The killer even gained entry to the house through a window in the nursery and crept past the two sleeping children to get to their parents. The eldest of the girls, five-year-old Jo Ann, woke up during the attack, interrupting the killer, who shoved her into a closet with a chloroform-soaked rag, which knocked her out. When the little girl came to, she got her little sister out of her crib and fled to the home of a neighbor who returned to the Hunt house and discovered the horrendous crime scene. The murders have never been solved.

Working from historical documents, police reports, court transcripts, newspaper coverage from the time, and one-on-one interviews with Jo Ann Hunt, the author pieces together the bizarre events leading up to that night, the murders, and the subsequent investigations and trials.

The book covers several years, including the historical background of the town and the individuals involved. The author presents a story that is mesmerizing, chilling, and very difficult to forget. Supplementing the narrative are many excellent photographs of the persons involved and relevant locations, including photos of the actual crime scene with the victims still in situ. Throughout, I was struck by how much has changed in the field of criminalistics and amazed by the leaps law enforcement took in identifying their main suspect. At times, the story got slightly confusing as events were told out of order or repeated. Reading further or re-reading these places usually cleared things up. I did have an issue with the final ebook product, which had typos, errors in grammar, and repetitive passages that an editor should have caught and corrected.

I recommend BOUND IN SILENCE: AN UNSOLVED MURDER IN A SMALL TEXAS TOWN to true crime readers, especially those interested in cases set in Texas.

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Book Review: Neon Off Snow by Nick McCarthy

Neon Off Snow by Nick McCarthy
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Good start to this unique Japanese detective series set in Osaka Prefecture.

Neon Off Snow is a new detective novel by Nick McCarthy that introduces readers to former Osaka Prefecture Police detective-turned-private eye Jon Nabeta. As a contracted consulting detective to the OPP, Nabeta is drawn into the murder of a fifteen-year-old yakuza princess that mimics the details of his most high-profile case from back when he was still with the police, the Osaka Kid Killer. With the lawyers of the convicted killer, the OPP’s former police commissioner, out to prove this new murder exonerates their client, Nabeta and his colleagues scramble to find the copycat killer and avert a war among the local yakuza families.

Jon Nabeta is not your ordinary detective. The product of two half-American, half-Japanese parents, he looks a little different from his coworkers, and some people have a problem with that. He compensates by being the best at what he does: solving difficult crimes. Soon after his success in solving the Osaka Kid Killer case, he left the police service to go into private practice, but the reasons are not revealed until almost the end of the novel. Somewhere north of 30, Jon has had a problem relationship-wise with commitment, but his current girlfriend, Rian, has him rethinking his future life path.

The plot follows Jon as he works the few clues discovered with the victim. There is so little to go on, Jon dives into his vast pool of contacts, informants, and information brokers for even the barest whisper of why the daughter of the powerful yakuza boss, Mamoru Usei, was murdered. The meetings with these shadowy, sometimes dangerous, underground figures yield meager suggestions for follow-up, and each scene is a perfectly developed, self-contained gem fraught with tension and atmosphere. The story is complex, with events from the past continuing to play a role in the present.

I immensely enjoyed the close-up view of Japanese law enforcement processes, structure, and attitudes, and the plot depended quite a bit on lax protocol in evidence handling, non-existent building security, and lack of communication among investigative staff. There were a few continuity issues that were bothersome enough to require me to backtrack and reread previous scenes to try to make sense of the aspects of the story (i.e., the murder victim is naked when discovered but clothed when the body gets to the morgue.) Also, a pet peeve for me is that Nabeta is described multiple times as an unnaturally skilled deductive thinker/detective, yet he fails to connect pieces of evidence he wrongly removes from crime scenes until much later. Still, he is an engaging character, a dogged, persistent investigator with an amazing array of useful contacts and interesting informants.

With its unique Osaka setting, insider’s/semi-official police point of view, and cinematic interview scenes and action sequences, I recommend Neon Off Snow to readers of traditional mysteries and police procedurals.

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

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Virtual Book Tour & Giveaway: Elephant Safari by Peter Riva

ELEPHANT SAFARI

by Peter Riva

June 24 - July 19, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

A MBUNO & PERO THRILLER

 A documentary team hiking through East Africa collides with a gang of deadly poachers, in this gripping adventure by the author of Kidnapped on Safari.

Years of filming, extreme dangers, and daring rescues have taken their toll on documentary producer Pero Baltazar and his team. To relax and reconnect with the East African wildlife they love, Pero organizes a walking safari for him, his camerawoman Nancy Breiton, and their elite guide Mbuno Waliangulu. Still, Pero has trouble truly disconnecting from work. When the team comes across a herd of elephants making their annual migration north of Lake Rudolf, Pero decides the team will film their journey from Kenya into Ethiopia along the Omo River.

What begins as a peaceful trip quickly turns into a chaotic nightmare as the trio crosses paths with a crew of poachers whose ivory sales are financing terrorists. The three are determined to protect the endangered herd from slaughter, and Mbuno enlists the help of local tribesmen. But the corruption of ivory poachers has deep roots that stretch to UN refugee camps, Chinese gangs, and the Iranian elite Islamic Revolutionary Guard. Faced with overwhelming odds, the trio must now rely on Pero’s contacts in the CIA, as well as Mbuno’s skills in the bush, if they hope to ever return from this excursion alive . . .

Praise for Elephant Safari:

"If you’re in the mood for an African thriller series to add to your summer reading pile, Peter Riva has got you covered. Riva’s impressive career has provided him with plenty of inspiration for his novels, which he writes as a form of relaxation."
~ The Lakeville Journal and The Millerton News

"Many readers will enjoy this story for its fast pace, engaging characters, and insights into world politic. I particularly loved the depth of knowledge about the natural history and ecology of the East African landscape. This may be a thriller but it’s also an important book about the killing of elephants for their ivory tusks."
~ Sharman Apt Russel- John Burroughs Medal winner

ELEPHANT SAFARI Trailer:

Book Details:

Genre: Action and Adventure Thriller
Published by: Open Road Media
Publication Date: January 30, 2024
Number of Pages: 302
ISBN: 9781504085335 (ISBN10: 1504085337)
Series: The Mbuno & Pero Thrillers, 4 | Each is a Stand-Alone Novel
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | BookaMillion | Goodreads | Open Road Media

Read an excerpt:

In modern Kenya and most of East Africa, elephant were dying out, Mbuno knew this and lamented. His chest ached for them. Gone were the innumerable small herds of his youth, mostly replaced by farms, settlements, human sprawl, and tourist attractions. What elephant remained had their age-old pathways and migration routes blocked, stopped, fenced, and constantly monitored. White men came and collared them, watched them on scopes, darted them, sampled them, and even shot them when they became a nuisance to farmers with cash. What elephants modern man did not manage in parks were easy prey for poachers. The days of the Liangulu hunter were over. Mbuno knew this, accepted this, and did not mind even half as much as he mourned the passing of the realm of the elephant.

All of Africa had once been the realm of the elephant. As the largest beast, immune to the normal prey and hunter battles going on all around, the elephant set the pace of the land, fertilized the forests, cropped the prairies, and paved the migration routes that all the migratory species followed. In times of drought, their superior intelligence showed where water could be found and even taught man to dig in dry riverbeds for a boundary layer of precious liquid. They created mud holes for mud baths to keep the insects at bay, used also by Cape buffalo and rhino. Over the millennia, they brushed aside acacia thorns and baobab saplings with equal ease creating the open plains. And, in time, Africa's rhythm resounded to the beat of their feet and their migratory timekeeping. Without the elephant ruling the land, the land fell into the discordant rhythm of the upright apes and began to fracture. Mbuno had known the last best years of the elephant's realm and, sadly, was now witnessing the fall of Africa's harnessing stability. Without the elephant to freely roam, the balance of nature would be broken, herds would grow to enormous size in protected parks and, outside that protection, devoid of traditional hunters, herds could be led by weak leaders who would fail to protect them from ivory hunters. Mbuno had heard this had happened before. At the end of the slave and ivory trade, in 1911 there were fewer elephants than now and the herds were only brought back from extinction by White Hunters—led by Teddy Roosevelt—using farm and ranch husbandry methods – culling every senile cow and bull. Young, vibrant, herds repopulated the migration routes. But now the elephant and Mbuno's tribal way of life were both threatened once again.

Mbuno looked back to make sure Pero and Nancy were crouched, waiting a few hundred yards away as he instructed. He then inched closer to the worrying herd, prone again, a sharp stone rolling under his hip painfully. He dared not move quickly, the bush above him would vibrate. He stopped any forward movement as he spotted feet, the small grey feet of a baby elephant, a mtoto.

One foot had an encircling, red, puss-oozing sore. Behind the mtoto's feet stood the mother. Mbuno could see the way the weight was shifting on both mother and child that the mother was soothing the young one who would be in pain. Silent pain, the sign of a strong herd leader. Or a very frightened herd, one that is being hunted. The mtoto's sore had been caused by a wire snare that had probably dropped off. Mbuno had seen this far too often. Now Mbuno felt compelled to do something, not just observe. It was now a matter of honor, duty, and common ancestry, not to mention his responsibility for the safety of his safari charges.

Mbuno's mind made decisions quickly. In the bush, life and death were often just moments apart. Soundlessly, moving no bush or twig, he retreated the way he had come, donned his pants only, and set himself into a running crouch. It was his usual hunter's pace, swift, determined, and ready for a change in direction. Circling the place where he knew the herd to be, he stayed four hundred yards away at least. Starting downwind and determinedly coming full half circle until he announced his presence to their sensitive noses, he tested their resolve. When he was sure they had smelled him, he knew there was real danger here because there was no charge, no bellowing threat, no foot stomp. The elephants could smell that he was only one man and also that he was a man of the bush. As Mbuno had feared, they clearly had a more dangerous enemy threat nearby, for they did not give themselves away. He continued his crouching circling run, sweating from adrenaline and the jini of the hunt. For he was hunting, but not elephant.

When he was three-quarters the way around his circle, he sensed, and then diving behind a fallen log on his stomach, he saw the men just outside the forest's edge. One was sitting on a pickup truck's hood and two stood in the flatbed. They wore no uniform. The man sitting was dressed as an Arab with a face scarf and camouflage trousers and bush shirt. He had binoculars but no gun. And two standing tribesmen looked like Pokot, Mbuno thought--northern, violent Maasai cousins. Hunters, not cattlemen. The two tribesmen had black rifles with yellow wood stocks and foregrips. Mbuno knew AK-47s when he saw them. Mbuno had seen these types of poachers before. They snared a baby and, in its squeals, it attracted the herd; close and closer until the slaughter would be efficient, deadly, machine gun rapid.

Standing behind a tree trunk on tiptoe, peeking out, Mbuno saw the panga (machete) on the flatbed tailgate, unsheathed, its 12-inch blade glistening, freshly sharpened. The back of the truck held two freshly drawn tusks; the brown blood still not yet black. The herd had been running and not just because of the mtoto.

Mbuno did not hesitate, did not reason, did not moralize. In the bush, the law of the land was kill or be killed. These men had killed, wasted the life of elephant, wanted to slaughter the rest, and were dishonorable. He saw them as little more than wanyama—vermin—to be stopped. Without altering his run, he circled behind the pickup and approached them from behind, soundlessly, before the men could even know he was coming.

***

Excerpt from Elephant Safari by Peter Riva. Copyright 2024 by Peter Riva. Reproduced with permission from Peter Riva. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Peter Riva has traveled extensively throughout Africa, Asia, and Europe, spending many months spanning thirty years with legendary guides for East African adventurers. He created the Wild Things television series in 1995 and has worked for more than forty years as a literary agent. Riva writes science fiction and African adventure books, including the Mbuno & Pero thrillers. He lives in Gila, New Mexico.

Catch Up With Peter Riva:
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Facebook - @peter.riva

 

 

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Book Blitz Teaser: Taken by the Valkyrie (Taken, #6) by Megan Slayer

Taken by the Valkyrie

(Taken, Book 6)

by

Megan Slayer

Paranormal / Women's Fiction / Novella

Publisher: Changeling Press LLC

Publication Date: July 5, 2024

Page count: 111 pages

SYNOPSIS:

Kara is tired of her role as a Valkyrie, not that she has much choice. Being a Valkyrie is her identity. It’s in her blood. But she can only witness so much death and destruction. Her faith in humanity has waned. Until she meets Eric.

Eric, a retired Airman, is just as tired. He’s seen things he believes no one else would understand. Then he picks up Kara and his world is turned upside down. She’s the one he never saw coming and the one he can’t live without -- if only she can handle his past.

The past might not be more than they can overcome, but what if these two warriors are exactly what they each need?

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READ AN EXCERPT: 

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2024 Megan Slayer

 

“Don’t you dare get attached.”

Kara folded her arms and groaned. She’d heard that line so many times through the centuries. What did attachments have to do with her? She wasn’t about to hook up with anyone long-term again. She’d made that mistake once and nearly paid with her life.

Not again.

Brynhildr glared at her. “You’re not listening.”

Kara snorted and shifted her attention from her thoughts to the elder Valkyrie. “You’re right. I’m not.” She mentally repeated the rules -- Valkyries are duty-bound, not permitted to form attachments, should stay free and vigilant.

Fine. Except she didn’t want to be on duty any longer. The job had become too dangerous. She’d long tired of the blood, the gore, the anger. She’d retrieved so many warriors from the field of battle and delivered them to Valhalla, but she could only take the devastation for so long.

“I don’t like you getting into scuffles in bars.” Brynhildr shook her head and leaned her elbows on the high-top table. “You’re looking for trouble. What do you have? A death wish?”

“What if I do?” She picked at the peanut shell remaining in the bowl. The bartender needed to replenish the snacks. When the monster came back around, she’d say something.

“What do you mean?” Brynhildr asked. “You’re getting careless, like you’re inviting trouble. You do know there’s something big planned for you.”

“Is there?” At least she didn’t have to explain herself. She wasn’t about to tell the elder she wanted to rest for a long time -- like forever. She’d contemplated final solutions a few times, but the idea of actually dying scared her. Her ex had tried to kill her, but she’d been reincarnated. Helgi swore he’d never let her forget him.

She hadn’t.

But she also didn’t want to be with him any longer.

“There’s a plan for you, Kara. Don’t jeopardize it.” Brynhildr sighed and reached for Kara’s arm. “What’s got you so upset? Talk to me. You can’t bottle it inside or you’ll lose the battle.”

She knew that all too well. Brynhildr was right. They did need to talk. “I don’t want to retrieve any longer. I want a break. I can’t handle the death and gore anymore. I’m tired of seeing so much pain. My heart can’t take it. I don’t want to settle down, but I need time away. I’ve thought about just ending it all to make the pain go away.”

“Don’t do that.” Brynhildr squeezed Kara’s bicep. “You’re my dear friend. When you feel that way again, you tell me. I’ll sit with you as long as you need and even when you don’t.”

“I know you will.” She’d never doubted her friend and elder Valkyrie. “What’s this big thing planned for me?”

“Promise me you’ll call me when you get low.” Brynhildr held tight to Kara’s arm. “Promise.”

“I will.” She wouldn’t go back on that.

“But you asked about the something big,” Brynhildr said. “Not all warriors need to go to Valhalla. Some need care here first. It’s up to you if you’re interested in giving that care before they can go. It doesn’t mean they’re on the battlefield. In some cases, they’re still fighting even though they’re home.”

“Still?” she murmured. Someone else understood what she saw when she closed her eyes?

“You might even find yourself along the way.”

She hadn’t expected the elder to say that. She’d expected to stay lost and drift away. But if she could help someone, that would be good -- if she could even help. Most people were afraid of her. What if the person she was supposed to assist didn’t want her help? What if they didn’t like her?

“We have someone specific in mind for your first job. What if I could tell you what he looks like?” Brynhildr asked. “Could show you?”

“You could?” Now the elder had her full attention. “Show me.”

“Are you interested in taking a different route and helping him?”

She hesitated. She should say no and return to sulking. “I am.” The words spilled off her tongue. She didn’t hear the undercurrent of conversation in the bar, didn’t smell the cigarettes and stale beer in the air, or even notice the smoke swirling around her. Her senses hyper-focused on what Brynhildr said. “I want to see him.”

“Very well.” Brynhildr produced a mirror.

The image of a man formed in the glass. Brown hair, crinkles around his brown eyes, tension in his posture, too thin, but handsome. Kara narrowed her eyes. He was damn cute, but wasn’t he off-limits? “I can’t get attached to him?”

“You know the code.”

She did.

She also wasn’t entirely sure what he’d be like. He might be a jerk. Have the  personality of a brick. Or he could be damn sexy, enticing, and sweet. Just lost too. He could be the kind of man a woman wanted to chase, to wrap up in, and never let go. The kind she wanted to kiss, touch, and tease. To feel moving inside her.

Not the perfect man -- but damn close.

If he really existed.

He might not.

There wasn’t much point in getting her hopes up.

“Just don’t fall in love.” Brynhildr shook her head. “Remember how that worked out with Helgi? This one might be a better fit and not nearly so violent, but you’re a proud Valkyrie, and you should remain unattached.”

“I should.” She’d followed the rules during this life. Previous ones? Not so much. This time around, she wanted to be a good Valkyrie. A proud one. She didn’t have time for romance. No time to waste on something that wasn’t going to last.

What if it did? What if this wasn’t just a passing fancy? What if they fell in love?

She had to stop thinking like this. Just because falling in love was possible didn’t mean it’d happen. Falling on her head was just as possible. Gods, it was more believable. She wasn’t a kid and didn’t need love.

Right?

Everyone could live without love and affection.

What if she didn’t want to any longer? What if she wanted to be romanced?

What if he had the key to her happiness, and he held the key to her heart?

Only the power of the gods could show her that truth.

Where was a god when she needed one?

“He’s here in Eerie. I’ll bet you’ve seen him,” Brynhildr said. “Don’t spook him. I know you’re good at being blunt.”

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Megan Slayer, aka Wendi Zwaduk, is a multi-published, award-winning author of more than one-hundred short stories and novels. She’s been writing since 2008 and published since 2009. Her stories range from the contemporary and paranormal to LGBTQ and white-hot themes. No matter what the length, her works are always hot, but with a lot of heart. She enjoys giving her characters a second chance at love, no matter what the form. She’s been nominated at the LRC for Best Author, Best Contemporary, Best Ménage, Best BDSM and Best Anthology. Her books have made it to the bestseller lists on various e-tailer sites.

When she’s not writing, Megan spends time with her husband and son as well as three dogs and three cats. She enjoys art, music and racing, but football is her sport of choice. She’s an active member of the Friends of the Keystone-LaGrange Public library.

 

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Christmas in July Book Review: The Starlight Mint Surprise Murder (Christmas Cookies) by Marla A. White

The Starlight Mint Surprise Murder by Marla A. White
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Mel’s attempt at starting over leads to an attempt on her life!

After an on-the-job injury leaves Emmeline “Mel” O’Rourke unable to return to work as an LAPD patrol officer, she retires to start over in a mountain resort town as an innkeeper. She and her supportive family invested their savings in this new endeavor and finally got the long-closed Babbling Brook B&B up and running, just in time for the holiday tourist season. But when one of the B&B’s first guests is found dead in the inn’s great room, and no cause of death is forthcoming because the area is shut down due to a heavy and isolating winter storm, Mel worries the gossip mill and bad social media may brand her new business as a death trap. The former police officer takes matters into her own hands when local law enforcement drags their feet to find the answers she desperately needs.

Mel is a likable main character, and I quickly came to sympathize with her about her worries that the bad press was going to singlehandedly bankrupt her family. Her fear of heights, a result of her work injury, was well conveyed and so genuine that I felt her panic. The several secondary characters are also well drawn and offer some interesting romantic options, though, with all that was going on at the inn, they will have to wait for a future story to blossom.

This exciting novella is one of the many marvelous offerings in the CHRISTMAS COOKIES collection of short stories and novellas published by The Wild Rose Press, Inc. I recommend THE STARLIGHT MINT SURPRISE MURDER to cozy mystery readers who enjoy a holiday or culinary-themed story.

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Book Blitz: Dead Squirrels Everywhere by Gabrielle Ferrara

 

Children's Book, humor, concepts counting

Counting to ten has never been easier for children who love the macabre!

Dead Squirrels Everywhere is a fully illustrated children’s book with a slightly morbid twist. This book is perfect for teaching kids of all ages how to count to ten. Children will have so much fun; they won’t even know they are learning!

No squirrels were harmed in the making of this book.

 

About the Author

Gabrielle Ferrara is an artist and entrepreneur who creates Victorian-inspired art and jewelry with ethically sourced animal remains. She has a master's degree in Museum Studies and undergraduate degrees in Anthropology and Art History. Gabrielle enjoys spending her free time with family, venturing down the rabbit hole of obscurity, and talking about dinosaurs.

 

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