Synopsis

Organised criminals are smuggling tiger bone out of China to feed an insatiable black market. They will stop at nothing to dominate a growing trade where profit margins dwarf those of narcotics, with little penalty. They have only one problem – they can’t get enough of it.

Following the murder of his friend, former soldier Daniel Harpur is on the warpath. A small bag of white powder and a Chinese gangster with a dragon tattoo are his only leads. He has vowed revenge, but first he must overcome his own personal demons.

The Wildlife Investigation Agency, charged with protecting endangered animals and their habitats, are on the trail of an infamous poacher who is decimating the wild tiger population. But red tape and bureaucracy thwart their every move.
Both Harpur and the WIA want justice. Just in different ways…….

An action-packed and gripping novel highlighting the lucrative illegal trade in wildlife and the plight of tigers – one of the world’s most iconic and beautiful creatures.

Excerpt

The weather in London was cold, grey and dismal in comparison to the warm Indian climate Heather had only just returned from. As she looked out of the window from her small dingy office at the WIA Headquarters, she felt that it matched her mood well.

On her return from the Panna Tiger Reserve, having spectacularly failed in her bid to capture Kojo Selassie, she had been greeted with paperwork and bills demanding eye watering amounts of money for equipment and services used in her expedition. No commiserations from her authorities or encouragement to try again. Only grim faces and complaints. The head of the WIA, Peter Blackthorn, summed it up when he called her in for a debriefing.

“We had a lot riding on your endeavours, Heather. Perhaps I didn’t emphasise the importance, or maybe I should have sent someone else instead? Not only did you allow Selassie to escape, but you allowed him to escape with one of the last breeding females on the reserve and her cubs! It’s been a calamity, Heather. Too risky from the very beginning. I should never have let you talk me into it in the first place.”

“That’s unfair, Peter! You said it yourself. The only way to stop the poachers is to follow the chain to the top. To the dealers! Selassie and whoever he works with are the ones we were after. We agreed that a tiger must be sacrificed in order to follow it, did we not?”

“We did. But you’ve lost that tiger, Heather! It’s been two days now and we’ve heard nothing.”

“We’re so restricted, Peter! I had to play everything by the book and my hands were tied. What we need to fight these people is free rein and a strong arm internationally. Selassie is greasing the palms of officials all over Africa and Asia, and crossing borders at will. Following that tiger out of Indian jurisdiction and into Nepal, Bhutan or China, or possibly all bloody three would have been a nightmare!”

“Which is precisely why we needed to catch him in India! Get back to your office and compile a report on the matter. I have to apply for more funding in the near future, and God only knows, without results the Wildlife Investigation Agency itself could become as endangered as the animals we’re trying to protect! We rely on charity, Heather. A high profile arrest such as Selassie would have produced interest and funding from all angles. But now… well…”

“I was close, Peter. It boiled down to a matter of luck. We also rely on good luck and sparse information from oppressed and frightened people. If we had some muscle! Some way of fighting these criminals that would hit them hard!”

“Look, your efforts are appreciated, but we have few enough resources and manpower as it is. We operate within the law. We’re not mercenaries. Anyway, there are perhaps more manageable projects we could look at – African elephants, illegal logging in the Amazon, plastic in the oceans. A depressingly endless list.”

“But, Peter, we’re so close to catching Selassie! Just give me a little longer…”

He lifted his phone to make a call and waved her away. Heather left his office deflated and frustrated. She racked her brains for any other way she could have played it, but it always boiled down to the same thing. Luck.

If she had had her way, Heather would have marched into the village of the poachers and knocked some heads together. She would have locked them up and beat them until the whereabouts of Selassie and the tiger had been told.

Every single person in the village to which they had tracked the trail had remained silent. The rangers knew who the poachers were, and the poachers knew Selassie. It wasn’t rocket science, but all were so infuriatingly intertwined and the area so vast and isolated, that it made life very difficult indeed. Within minutes of arriving in the village, the tiger, if it was one, must have been whisked away in the back of a vehicle to join the scores of others heading for China. The trail had gone cold just like that. Needles and haystacks sprang to mind.

She averted her gaze from the window and back to the papers, as the phone on her desk began to ring.

“Hello. Wildlife Investigation Agency. Heather Walsh speaking.”

“Hello. I’d like to speak to someone about tigers?”

Thinking it a prank from someone in the building, at her expense, Heather wasn’t amused.

“Is this a joke? I really don’t have time for this…”

“My name is Daniel Harpur. I found your details on the internet. I believe you head up investigations into endangered tigers in Asia and their sale on the black market? I have information that could be of use to you. But it’s a two way thing. I want information in return.”

“What information do you have, Mr Harpur?”

“Three Chinese gangsters killed my friend, over a tiny bag of tiger bone in Laohu’s Traditional Chinese Medicine Shop in Belfast. I found the men at Carter International Logistics Headquarters in Belfast Harbour. You’ll not be surprised to hear that we don’t have tigers in Northern Ireland, so I’m guessing it was shipped into there from somewhere else.”

“Are you a police officer?”

“No. They don’t seem to be very interested in this case.”

“There’s not a lot of solid information there, Mr Harpur, but I can look into it. With regards to exchanging information… well… it really would need to be first class intelligence for anything like that to happen.”

“I understand… what if I could find out more? What exactly is it that you need to make it first class information?”

“I need to know what quantities are involved. Criminals move tiger bone all over the world, as powder, in wine, meat for restaurants, decoration. You may have just stumbled across the end product. To be honest, I need the supplier, not the street dealer or the user, and I need to trace the powder back to wherever it originated so I can try to stop it. Look, Mr Harpur, dangerous criminals are involved in this business. It is mostly the Chinese who demand these products, so the triads will be heavily involved. They are well organised and very dangerous. You should leave any investigations to your local authorities.”

“They don’t want to know. It’s been six months since my friend was murdered and the police are no further on in their investigation. His killer is still walking free.”

“You said you wanted to know more. What is it you need to know?”

“Everything.”

Excerpt is taken from Publishing Push

About the Author

Andrew Jackson writes gritty crime/action and adventure novels. He uses exciting and engaging characters, along with a fast moving plot, to grip the reader from the beginning to the end of the book. He is an avid reader and conservationist, hence the creation of the Dan Harpur series which tackles the epidemic in wildlife crime worldwide.

Website

 

 

Title: The Wonder of Now

Author: Jamie Beck

Release Date: September 10, 2019

Publisher: Montlake

 

Synopsis

Peyton Prescott would give anything for the carefree life she knew before breast cancer changed everything. But instead of using her second chance to move forward, she’s stuck promoting the memoir her brother convinced her to write, thus reliving the very battle she wants to forget. If she hopes her European book tour will allow her to enjoy revisiting her favorite travel-writing destinations, she’s wrong: her PR whiz is too consumed with his own goals to consider her needs.

Mitch Mathis has relied on discipline to achieve his goals, and with his new firm’s success riding on Peyton’s book launch, he must keep her on task. They’re here for business, not pleasure. And Mitch won’t let unbridled desire harm his professional reputation—not again.

When frustrated expectations and attraction throw the tour into chaos, it challenges everything Mitch and Peyton believe about themselves, life, and love, forcing these opposites to consider whether they can embrace the change they need to grow.

 

 

Guest Post: Author Jamie Beck Urges Readers to Focus on the Wonder of Now

Throughout my career, I’ve loved the challenge of redeeming a character that might be hard to like, much less love. In Peyton, the heroine from The Wonder of Now, I took on a particular challenge, because most of my readers are women, and most women don’t forgive a friend who betrays them for a man. This setup made redeeming Peyton a singular challenge and begs two questions: who is Peyton, and why should you care about what happens to her?

Peyton Prescott is part of a legendary literary family owing to her great-grandfather’s prolific career as a celebrated novelist. The casual observer would say she’s grown up in a mansion by the sea and enjoyed every privilege (wealth, beauty, wit). But life in Arcadia House wasn’t as picture-perfect as her family would have the public believe, and emotionally distant parents didn’t exactly model warmth or instill a sense of deep love and acceptance. She spent her twenties living out of suitcases and blogging about her travels, then had the misfortune of falling for her childhood friend’s boyfriend, who dumped that friend for Peyton…until she got diagnosed with breast cancer, at which point he dumped her, too.

Facing her mortality alone forced her to take a hard look at her life and her choices, spurring a sincere desire to become a better person, and to make amends with the friend she betrayed. Although she gets diagnosed in the first book in this series, and begins to make amends in the second, this final book is when all the threads come together. She and her famed-photographer brother recorded her journey from diagnosis through her final surgeries, collaborating on a memoir that is about to release (the proceeds of which will be donated to cancer research). Of course, at this point in time she’s more interested in moving on with her life than with reliving the experience with cancer and sharing those intimacies in public forums. Her attitude puts her in direct opposition to the publicist, Mitch, who is counting on her becoming his fledgling company’s big hit.

Despite Peyton’s flaws, of which she is well-aware, she also has strengths that draw people to her. She’s self-deprecating, witty, brave, beautiful, and empathetic. She now also has a heightened appreciation for living in the moment and not taking any day for granted—something the goal-oriented Mitch must learn to do. Although he has very good reasons for being disciplined and focused on his ambitions, he is instantly drawn to her energetic spirit and zest for life.

I confess that I struggled while writing this book, but it ended up becoming my favorite to date. Not just because I loved rising to the challenge I’d set up, but also because Peyton’s musings, fears, and hopes go to the heart of what connects us all, and because I think I gave her the perfect man to help her complete her much-needed personal growth arc. But you can be the judge!

 

Excerpt: The Wonder of Now

The writer from the Barcelona Review swaggered in and sat down. Medium height, trim, with coal-black hair worn a bit shaggy. The guy’s eyes lit up when he got his first good look at Peyton’s smile, making Mitch’s gut tighten.

“Hello, Miss Prescott. I’m Javier Molina, but friends call me Javi.” He reached across the table to shake her hand.

“Nice to meet you, Javi. Please call me Peyton.”

The little knot in Mitch’s stomach screwed tighter when he thought she was flirting. She’s only smiling, stupid.

Javi set up his phone recorder and then slouched back, feet planted wide apart on the ground, pen in hand. That cocky bastard was trying to intimidate Peyton with his domineering position. “First, let me say I enjoyed the book, although I suspect some of the caustic humor was meant to keep us at a distance.”

“Not exactly,” she muttered.

Javi hesitated but would be disappointed if he expected his silence would force her to elaborate. Mitch had watched her operate with interviewers in Rome. She’d make an excellent trial witness, answering only those questions asked—nothing more or less. Even this spare utterance seemed to have slipped through her fortress wall.

Javi prodded again. “In certain cases, the photographs are more raw than the narrative, although they blend seamlessly together. All but the cover photo, which has no explanation or accompanying exposition. It’s a spectacular, harsh image . . . Can you tell our readers what was going through your mind when it was taken?”

“You mean aside from ‘I’m going to kill you, Logan’?” She chuckled, buying herself a precious moment to compose her thoughts, Mitch guessed.

Meanwhile, Javi raised his index finger with a sly nod, as if she’d proved the point he’d made a moment ago about her defense mechanism. Rather than venture another attempt to flirt his way past Peyton’s defenses, Javi simply stared at her this time, waiting for a real answer.

Her gaze drifted, eyes cloudy. If she’d wanted to discuss whatever happened at the time of that photo, she would’ve put it in the memoir.

Mitch loosened his fist and wiggled his fingers. She needed to do this for herself, and it might be easier on her if he left the room. It would certainly be easier on him not to listen to the story behind the photo that had captivated yet haunted him for weeks.

He wrestled with his internal debate until she sighed.

Without looking at Javi, she picked up the pen and began doodling on the pad in front of her while she spoke. “Forty-five minutes before Logan shot that photo, I’d used the magic mouthwash to help with my mouth ulcers. After the waiting period, I went to the kitchen to get some water. It was predawn, so I’d assumed Logan was sleeping. I took a few sips and then wandered to the living room window. Outside, the street was already coming to life, all shadows and movement and secrets. Garbage men emptying bins, night-shift workers heading home, a stray woman dashing toward the subway on an obvious walk of shame . . . ordinary people living their lives. Probably worrying about the electric bill, or looking forward to a sporting event, or maybe daydreaming about a new love. Things that had once occupied my thoughts but, in that moment, meant less than nothing to me.”

When she paused, Mitch stole a look at her notepad. Daisies?

Her expression shifted to something self-deprecating. “And yet I envied them and those small worries . . . envied their health. Their nonchalance about another new day. I was so separated from it all—and not only by the glass. I swallowed a scream because I knew they, like me before my diagnosis, were taking everything for granted. I watched them, resentment festering because I might not exist long enough to even see those people months later. Worse, they’d never know. Life everywhere would go on without me, and very, very few people would care. Just like that”—she snapped her fingers—“it hit me that my whole life never mattered much. No spouse. No children. No impressive legacy from my Globejotter days. What, of value, had I done with my time?”

The room remained silent while she resumed her doodling. “I don’t know what woke Logan. All I remember is that I turned when I heard the camera click, and then he kept snapping.” She finally looked at Javi and tapped the book jacket with the back end of her pen. “That was his favorite of the bunch.”

Javi straightened his posture while finishing his notes. Peyton shot Mitch a quick glance punctuated by a half shrug. What a strange, intriguing woman. Drawing flowers while relaying her existential crisis to a total stranger.

Mitch offered a sharp nod of approval when what he wanted was to gather her in his arms like a bouquet of delicate flowers and tell her that he would care very much if she didn’t exist tomorrow or the next day or the one after.

 

About the Author

National bestselling author Jamie Beck’s realistic and heartwarming stories have sold more than two million copies. She’s a Booksellers’ Best Award and National Readers’ Choice Award finalist, and critics at Kirkus, Publishers Weekly, and Booklist have respectively called her work “smart,” “uplifting,” and “entertaining.” In addition to writing, the author of the Cabot novels, the Sterling Canyon novels, and the St. James series enjoys dancing around the kitchen while cooking and hitting the slopes in Vermont and Utah. Above all, she is a grateful wife and mother to a very patient, supportive family.

Fans can learn more about her on her website, www.jamiebeck.com, which includes a fun “Extras” page with photos, videos, and playlists. She also loves interacting with everyone on Facebook.

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Giveaway

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Synopsis

Can a good Southern Girl play tackle football?

Yes, if she nurtures her dream and never gives up!

 Mixing Fact and Fiction, BLACK & BLUE is a Powerful Novel about Fortitude and Determination, a Coming-of-Age Story for a New Generation of Women 

 Growing up in Zephyrhills, Florida, Toady loves nothing more than playing football.  It isn’t surprising, given that football is a religion in the small Southern town.  Indeed, a winning team is a cure-all throughout the South.  But for Toady, the love of football is bittersweet – because Toady’s given name is Christine.  She’s a girl, and girls “can’t” play football.  Christine’s story, and how she beats the odds to become the owner of – and player on – a championship women’s tackle football team, is told in Andra Douglas’s new novel, BLACK & BLUE: Love, Sports, and the Art of Empowerment (BookBaby, July 2019).

Loosely based on the author’s own story, BLACK & BLUE chronicles Christine’s struggle to “get a slice” of the “pigskin pie” of life.  The youngest of three sisters, she chafes against what the South tells her she should be.  From childhood on, she loves football and plays exceptionally well.  But she is denied a spot on the high school team, and by senior year, she watches unhappily as her male classmates win college football scholarships – knowing that for her it cannot be.  Reluctantly, she puts aside her football dreams and moves to New York City, never expecting to play the game she loves – but life is full of surprises.

Douglas, the former owner of the New York Sharks Women’s Pro Football team and a player herself, paints a compelling picture of Christine’s struggle.  But more importantly, BLACK & BLUE lays bare the complexity of being a woman who wants to play what has essentially been a man’s sport since it was first created.  Once in New York, Christine hears rumors about women playing flag football on Fire Island.  She rides the ferry over, clutching her ball – and there she finds her people.  The women who will one day be her teammates on the New York Sharks.

This quirky, tough, and diverse group is held together by their love of the game.  When, after several years of successful flag competitions, the Women’s Professional Football Association is launched, Christine becomes part of this new tackle league – against her better judgment, because she senses that something isn’t quite right.  Before long, she discovers the truth – the Association has no funding and the team needs money and an owner if they want to compete.  To keep her dream alive, Christine haggles and scrapes together the cash to buy the franchise.

And that’s when the tension really heats up.  In order to create a championship team, Christine must make countless personal and financial sacrifices.  Finding a coach who isn’t abusive is a struggle.  Rallying team spirit is an endless quest.  Add to that the loss of her one true love, the devastation of the September 11 attacks, and the sudden death of one of her players, and Christine’s dream seems doomed.  Does she have the guts and the stamina to spite the odds?  Will her sacrifices pay off?

BLACK & BLUE not only challenges gender stereotypes, but takes readers behind the scenes of one of America’s least understood sports. Readers will cheer Christine as she doubles down to fight for the women who want nothing more than to be allowed to play the sport they love.  This is a story of empowerment that will inspire anyone who is struggling to fulfill their dreams.

 

Excerpt

INVITATION TO PLAY

I stand in the heat of the day, thinking this must be a mirage! I look again: a group of women is playing football!

By Andra Douglas

I am sorting socks one day and thinking that all of them can’t possibly belong to one individual when I realize that there are two companions I have overlooked—Me and Myself. After this realization, I view my existence as three entities sharing space in one body. It is a type of schizophrenia that I find comforting. Plus, it explains all the socks.

Time passes quickly and living in New York City means paying the Piper. It also means paying the doorman, the coat checker, the cabbies, the “super” in my brownstone and the woman giving out hand towels in the bathrooms of fine establishments. Life in New York City moves so fast that it seems as though events overlap. Unlike my beloved game of football, there are no time-outs, no half-times, not even any two-minute warnings. Even the traffic lights mean nothing. And all the horns honking make it so noisy. At home, the things with horns say “mooooo.” In New York, there are lots of nasty and maladjusted people. They swear loudly from the middle of the streets and write rude words on walls. The rudest thing on the walls back home was the day the “l” dropped out of “public” on the building we know as the Public Library. Nevertheless, I navigate this city well. And it is slowly becoming home.

“Come through, New York!” I say, aiming my words at the beautiful skyline at the southern end of the island. “Come through…”

Then one day it delivers something. A group of women who play football. Somewhere I hear that beach football is played on Fire Island. So one Saturday I take the ferry over from Sayville out on Long Island. I sit down in the sand holding my football like a security blanket and look for the football action.

Suddenly, like an apparition, Jessie appears next to me. Twenty-nine, slim, muscular and quite beautiful, until she opens her mouth, at which point you know for sure she is a true Brooklynite. Everything you hear is unruly and the opposite of what you might expect from her full and opinion-giving lips. She swaggers; even her gestures have an accent.

I take notice of her curly, unruly shock of short hair. She takes notice of the football in my hands. Then she speaks.

“Seen ya bwall,” she says.

“Yeah?” My slight southern dialect is not nearly as distinguishable as her ‘Brooklynese.’

“Wanna play wit us?” she romps around me in the sand like a puppy.

“Yeah. Ok.” Of course, I want to play! Who’s “us?”

I follow her down the beach and see a group of about fifteen women throwing a football to each other. The heat of the day, the sand…this must be a mirage, or a dream and Jessie is the ghost of football past. But as we approach, I can see that they are still there. An entire group of athletic women and they are playing football! Jessie introduces me.

“Hey! Found another player for the game today. Maybe for the Sharks, too!” They greet me with sandy handshakes, and soon they are telling me about their team named the Sharks in a league in Brooklyn where they all live.

“It’s flag football,” announces a woman named Sarah who says ‘ flag’ like she’s just discovered rancid milk in her lunch pail. She is sitting in the sand putting a pink band-aid on her toe, and her long blonde hair drapes around her knees as she leans forward. Flag football. Alright, maybe it isn’t the spot on the Miami Dolphins I dreamed of as a child, but at least I can play my favorite game and meet people, too.

“But it IS full contact,” Sarah is quick to throw this in, as if embarrassed that they don’t play tackle. They all nod in agreement, grateful that Sarah has pointed this out. She is the EF Hutton of the group. Everyone listens. “Plus, it’s all we have.” She adds as a light afterthought. “So…let’s play…is it Christine or Chris?”

“Christine.” She stands up and her stature is not nearly as big as her presence. About 5’4”, Sarah has a thin, athletic but curvy body. She begins to trot away from the group and puts her hands up signaling for me to throw her the ball. I feel like I just reached heaven and as I whip the football in her direction, I hear several murmurs and a grunt of approval from Jessie, “That lil’ ‘ol skinny arm can send that ball!” she says and Jessie grunts again, but is smiling. Someone named Dulce is waving for me to throw the ball to her, so I zing one her way. She catches it effortlessly and grins at the others.

“Aiiight!” she says, and Sarah is kind enough to translate.

“That’s ‘alright’ in Puerto Rican, Christine.” Then she laughs as a cacophony of ‘aiiiights’ fill the beach air. We play most of the day and the only reason we stop is because Sarah’s dad, Thomas, is picking a group of the players up at the dock in a boat.

I sit in the sand after everyone is gone, tossing the football in the air against the blue sky, reliving moments that made my adrenaline flow: Jessie catching my pass in the end zone and rushing back to the huddle full of excitement. “I didn’t think you saw me!” But I did! Or after I was flushed out of the pocket and ran for a long gain; as we returned to our side of the ball, Sarah flipped her long hair around and, in a playful taunt, told the defense I was the fastest one on the field. These are the things I want to feast on, and the more I eat, the hungrier I become. I lie down in the sand to digest the delicious moments. The clouds form the X’s and O’s of the playbook in my head. I will go home, gnaw these memories to the bone and be ravenous in the fall when I play flag football in Brooklyn with my new friends.

Excerpted from BLACK & BLUE by Andra Douglas (BookBaby/2019).  Available at Amazon

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About the Author

ANDRA DOUGLAS is a native of central Florida and a graduate of Florida State University and Pratt Institute.  A national champion athlete in rugby and women’s tackle football, she was the owner of the New York Sharks Women’s Pro Football team for nineteen years and is the founder of the Fins Up! Foundation for Female Athletes, a non-profit to benefit at-risk teens.  In addition to her love of football, Andra is a professional artist and served as a Vice President/Creative Director at Time Warner for many years. Today, she lives with her parrot, ‘Pie’ in New York’s Greenwich Village where she creates mixed-media artwork.

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Who Shot the Serif? (Hand Lettering Mystery)
Cozy Mystery
1st in Series
Independently Published (July 7, 2019)
Paperback: 218 pages

Synopsis

When Jamie Lang finds one of her hand lettered quotes on the window of her shop, Flourish, with a hole shot through a serif, she knows someone’s trying to drive her business into red ink. Jamie confronts Earleen Culp, the ruthless owner of the local stationery shop, in front of the most popular breakfast spot in the small town of Cedar Valley. Of course, Earleen professes shock and innocence, so when she’s found dead in front of Jamie’s home the next morning, Jamie becomes the prime suspect.

Jamie’s one cross-stroke short of acquittal, and even her best friend has her doubts. But Jamie’s not the only one in town with a motive for wanting Earleen silenced for good. To clear her name, Jamie’s going to need every last drop of ink in her quill.

With the hot police chief Ridge, and her makeup artist friend Nora on her side, she’s prepared to go out with a flourish if that’s what it takes to catch the real murderer. She’s desperate to save her hand lettering business, but will her quest lead her right into a killer’s snare?

 

Review

This new series has plenty of suspects but only one killer, but who could it be?

I quite enjoyed the first book in this new series, from the clever writing to the killer hiding in plain sight.  Then there is Jamie’s business, hand lettering, something I admire but cannot do myself.  I think I should have paid more attention to my cursive in grade school!

Jamie is falsely accused of murdering her arch nemesis, Earleen.  Earleen is someone everyone loved to hate and there were plenty of people that would not have minded a bit if something happened to her or she went away somewhere.  Unfortunately, her death on Jamie’s door puts Jamie smack dab in the middle of the case trying to clear her name and save her business.  She is very methodical with her research into other possibilities but does not unearth the correct person until it is almost too late.

There is even a potential love interest, Ridge, but there is a mention of his twin brother, Rut, and that something tragic happened to him because he is dead, but no real details.  I am assuming that will come in future books.  At least I hope so!

We give this new series 4 paws up and can’t wait to learn more hand lettering techniques.

 

Click on the image to download a free mini mystery eBook from Amazon

 

 

About the Author

Jessa Archer writes sweet, funny, warm-hearted cozy mysteries because she loves a good puzzle and can’t stand the sight of blood. Her characters are witty, adventurous, and crafty in the nicest way. You’ll find her sleuths hand lettering inspirational quotes, trying to lower golf handicaps, enjoying a scone at a favorite teashop, knitting a sweater, or showing off a dramatic side in local theater.

Jessa’s done many things in her long career, including a stint as a journalist and practicing law. But her favorite job is spinning mysteries. She loves playing small town sleuth and transporting readers to a world where the scones are delicious, wine pairs with hand lettering, and justice always prevails.

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Synopsis

Elizabeth Black is the headmistress of a girls’ school in 1865 Victorian London. She is also a well-respected author of “silver-fork” novels, stories written both for and about the upper-class ladies of Victorian society. But by night, she writes very different kinds of stories—the Penny Dreadfuls that are all the rage among the working-class men. Under the pseudonym Mr. King, Elizabeth has written about dashing heroes fighting supernatural threats, intelligent detectives solving grisly murders, and dangerous outlaws romancing helpless women. They contain all the adventure and mystery that her real life lacks.

Fletcher Walker began life as a street urchin, but is now the most successful author in the Penny Dreadful market, that is until Mr. King started taking all of his readers. No one knows who King is, including Fletcher’s fellow members of the Dread Penny Society, a fraternity of authors dedicated to secretly fighting for the social and political causes of their working-class readers. The group knows King could be an asset with his obvious monetary success, or he could be the group’s undoing as King’s readership continues to cut into their profits.

Determined to find the elusive Mr. King, Fletcher approaches Miss Black. As a fellow-author, she is well-known among the high-class writers; perhaps she could be persuaded to make some inquiries as to Mr. King’s whereabouts? Elizabeth agrees to help Fletcher, if only to insure her secret identity is never discovered. What neither author anticipated was the instant attraction, even though their social positions dictate the impossibility of a relationship.

For the first time Elizabeth experiences the thrill of a cat-and-mouse adventure reminiscent of one of her own novels as she tries to throw Fletcher off her scent. But the more time they spend together, the more she loses her heart. Its upper-class against working-class, author against author where readers, reputations, and romance are all on the line.

 

 

About the Author

Sarah M. Eden is a USA Today Bestselling author of witty and charming historical romances, including Foreword Review’s 2013 “IndieFab Book of the Year” gold medal winner for Best Romance, Longing for Home, as well as 2014 Whitney Award winner for “Best Novel of the Year,” Longing for Home: Hope Springs. Combining her obsession with history and affinity for tender love stories, Sarah loves crafting witty characters and heartfelt romances set against rich historical backdrops. She holds a Bachelor’s degree in research and happily spends hours perusing the reference shelves of her local library. Sarah lives with her husband, kids, and mischievous dog in the shadow of a snow-capped mountain she has never attempted to ski.

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Title: Anyone But Rich

Author: Penelope Bloom

Release Date: September 3, 2019

Series: Anyone But…, #1

Publisher: Montlake

Synopsis

Seven years ago, my best friends and I made a promise: No matter what, we would never date one of the King brothers. Even if they grew up to become megafamous, gorgeous, heart-stopping billionaires. Even if they crawled on their knees and begged for forgiveness.

But guess who just flew back into our lives in a private jet? And guess who just showed up to my job on my first day? Richard. King. Fortunately, it takes two seconds for Richard to reveal he hasn’t changed. Conceited. Cocky. Rude. Unfortunately, he’s also the kind of gorgeous that’s borderline offensive—with a jawline to make statues self-conscious and a grin that short-circuits my brain.

He’s spent years taking what he wants. I doubt he’s hungry for anything else—except me, apparently. There’s no way I’ll let him maneuver his way back into my life. My friends would never forgive me. I would never forgive me. But did I mention his jawline?

 

Guest Post: Meet the Kings of North Carolina with Author Penelope Bloom

Anyone But Rich is the first book of my new, three book “Anyone But…” series. Every book is a true romantic comedy and is full of moments that I hope will have you laughing out loud, if not at least breathing out a little puff of air from your nose.

Anyone But Rich follows the oldest King brother, Richard King, and his love interest, Kira Summerland. Seven years ago, the King brothers left behind a trail of scorched earth as far as Kira and her best friends, Iris and Miranda were concerned. The three women swore an oath that they’d never date the King brothers again, even if they wound up becoming mega-famous billionaires and came back on their knees, begging for forgiveness.

But that’s exactly what happened. Now, Kira isn’t so sure she’ll be able to hold herself to a vow she made seven years ago, even if breaking it could drive a rift between her and her best friends.

Rich and the King brothers are global phenomenons. Each of them takes their own, unique approach to melting hearts. Rich is the kind of guy who puts business first and relentlessly pursues his goals, even if it means ruffling feathers along the way. That’s what makes Kira so special for him. She’s the one person who can bring out a softer side of Rich, and at times, even a funny side. But Kira or not, he’s generally seen as the face of the company, and he’s easily the biggest name to ever land in a place like West Valley.

Cade is Rich’s twin brother, but the two men couldn’t be more different. Cade is a somewhat strange blend of intelligence, goofiness, and unbearable cockiness. He can turn any situation into a joke, but behind the laughs and crude comments, he still wonders if his high school crush, Iris, would ever look beyond their past.

Nick is the youngest of the trio and generally thought of as the quiet genius of the group. He’s not as in-your-face as Rich can appear, but Nick commands respect in his own way. He also has the closest relationship with Cade, partly because Nick is the only one who ever seemed up to the task of keeping his wild, older brother alive.

All in all, the three brothers are like the riders of the apocalypse, if apocalypses were caused by melted panties and broken hearts, at least.

But the King brothers all share one thing in common. Whether they’ll ever admit it or not, they all came back to West Valley for the girls they left behind. Anyone But Rich is the story of Richard King and his attempts to win the forgiveness of Kira Summerland, his old high school flame. The question for Rich is how long he can pretend forgiveness is all he wants. For Kira, it’s a question of whether she can look past the mountain’s worth of warning signs telling her to stay as far away from Rich as possible.

There are endless obstacles between the King brothers and their West Valley girls, but the King brothers aren’t the type to shy away from a challenge. They’ve just never faced one this great.

***

Excerpt

Principal Lockett.

He was shorter than most of the freshmen, but the shiny patch of bald skin on his crown and the drooping bags under his eyes meant there was no mistaking him for a student. “Just wanted to say good luck on your first day, Kira.”

“Thank you,” I said. I hoped my smile looked genuine. I’d expected to need to try very hard to make a good impression on my new boss, but from the first day of preplanning two weeks ago, it seemed like he was the one sucking up. It wasn’t the first time being the mayor’s daughter had given me some unwanted advantage. No matter how much I protested, some people in West Valley were dead set on the idea that getting in my good graces was the same as getting in my father’s good graces. Unfortunately, my objections went unnoticed, and people had never been quick to believe that favoritism wasn’t something I secretly encouraged.

So I did what I always did. I pretended I still needed to bust my ass to make a good impression. I refused to sit back and let my father be an easy pass, and I hoped for the best.

“Is everything okay?” I asked when he was still standing there with a smile plastered on his face. From the corner of my eye, I saw students start pouring into my room from the back door.

“There is just one thing. A slight hiccup, really. Nothing that you would need to worry your father about,” he said. “There’s a very influential businessman in town. He got on the phone with the right people a few minutes ago, made some very interesting promises, and . . . well . . .”

“Well, what?” My eyes were darting between Principal Lockett and my rapidly filling classroom.

“He’s apparently an old friend of yours. Said he’d like to be able to stop by today and say hello. He promised it would be quick.”

“It’s my first day,” I said slowly, hoping I wouldn’t need to explain any further.

“And you’ll do great!” Principal Lockett seemed to sense my inevitable eruption, so he ducked back into the hallway and flashed me a quick thumbs-up before the door snicked closed.

I turned my eyes toward my students and made a weak attempt to mentally rally. I can do this. They’re just children in bodies that have grown faster than their brains. They aren’t as mature as they look.

“Do you see how red her face is?” whispered a girl in the front row. I wasn’t sure if it was intentional, but I was pretty sure I would’ve been able to make out every word of the “whisper” from the parking lot.

The boy beside her smiled cruelly. “Maybe she’s PMSing.”

The girl frowned at him and slapped his arm. “That’s not how it works, you idiot.”

“What do you mean? There’s all the blood issues. Some of it must end up in their heads.”

The girl rolled her eyes, crossed her arms, and gave up on him.

I cleared my throat. “I’m Miss Summerland.” I paused, swallowed, and willed my windpipe to grow a little bigger. “This is—”

The bell signaling the start of first period rang deafeningly, cutting me off and making me realize I was already showing what a rookie I was.

I cleared my throat again. “This is—”

The announcements began, instructing the students to stand for the Pledge and the anthem.

I turned my back to face the flag and pretended I didn’t hear the snickering students behind me. I also pretended I didn’t remember being a high schooler not so long ago, and how quickly I would’ve decided a teacher like me was the kind students were going to eat for breakfast.

A few minutes later, the announcements ended, and I finally turned to face the students again. “Okay. This is—”

The door to my room opened. I spun, hands balled into fists. All the frustration of the last few minutes boiled over into an embarrassingly squeaky outburst. “I would love to finish my sentence!”

And that was when I saw my visitor.

Richard King.

Distantly, I heard the excited whispers of every girl in my classroom.

“Is that him?”

“Oh my God, is my hair okay?”

“This is going on my Snapchat!”

Their voices faded into background noise as I looked at him in person for the first time in so many years.

“Please,” he said. His voice was so deep and rich I could feel it rumble through my chest. “Finish your sentence. I’ll wait.”

He knew damn well there was no way I could think about anything else with him standing there. The corner of his mouth had twitched up into the suggestion of a smirk, and his eyes were locked predatorily on me. He knew exactly what was happening to me, and he was enjoying it.

I tried to picture a normal human being in his place. I tried and failed to unsee the broad, powerful shoulders and long legs, to unmake every cruel and perfect line of his face, from the sharp jaw to the dark eyebrows and burning green eyes. His nearly black hair was cut short and neat. He wore a suit that would’ve made most men look overdressed, but he seemed perfectly at ease. Here I was with my legs spread out like I was trying not to step in a puddle, pretending I was in control. Meanwhile, Rich’s pinkie toe projected more confidence than my entire body.

I wanted him and his obnoxiously cocky pinkie toe out of my classroom and out of my life. I was perfectly happy seeing him in a dirty dream every few weeks, where he couldn’t screw up my reality any more, thank you very much.

“Out,” I said.

“That was the end of your sentence? ‘This is . . . out’?”

The students acted like his sitcom laugh track, and I already wanted to give them all detentions for being traitors.

I turned, annoyed, and gestured to my students. “This is English Four Honors.” I looked back at Richard. “Out.”

 

About the Author

Penelope Bloom is a USA Today, Amazon, and Washington Post bestselling author whose books have been translated into seven languages. Her popular romances include His Banana, Her Cherry, Savage, and Punished.

Her writing career started when she left her job as a high school teacher to pursue her dream. She loves taking her imagination for a spin and writing romances she’d want to live. She likes a man with a mind as dirty as sin and a heart of gold he keeps hidden away. Her favorite things include getting to wear socks all day—pants optional—and being a positive example for her girls. Showing her daughters that no dream is too big, no matter what anyone tells them, is worth all the late nights, doubts, and fears that come with being a writer.

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Christmas Trifle (A  Snow Lake Romantic Suspense Mystery)
Romantic Cozy Mystery
1st in Series
Wives of Bath Press (September 1, 2019)
Number of Pages – 322

Synopsis

When chefs Charly and Cliff Harding divorce, she gets custody of their upscale restaurant and its namesake, Felix, the cat.  He gets custody of their dog, Oscar.  What they both still have custody of is each other’s heart. But they seem to be the only two people in the small ski resort town of Snow Lake, Nevada, that don’t know it.

When Cliff opens his own restaurant in direct competition with Charly, bad things start to happen. Death threats, accidents, and murder are now on the menu. Their ‘if-you-can’t-take-the-heat-then-get-out-of-the-kitchen’ battles are backfiring, and regrets consume the two of them. But can they find their way back to each other?  Or is it too late? Because they just might spend the rest of their lives in prison unjustly accused of killing someone. Or can love triumph over even murder?

 

 

Guest Post

In Christmas Trifle, Book One of the Snow Lake Romantic Suspense Novels, I had to create a whole ski resort town. Yup, I was the city planner, architect, and mayor. I designed the roads, businesses, and even the ski lifts. Pretty daunting. As I am a writer and don’t know much about anything previously mentioned, I had to ‘borrow’ from other sources, like the Internet.

I also drew from my own memories of ski resorts from my checkered youth, which wasn’t so checkered and not so youthful. I remember Copper Mountain, Heavenly Valley, Squaw Valley, and Sun Valley. Sonja Henie, an Olympic ice skater, skier, and movie star, made Sun Valley famous. They continually run her movie called “Sun Valley Serenade” in some sort of ice hut. Be sure to bring a hot toddy with you if you’re there and going to watch it. I remember it being a very cold affair, but I was born and raised in South Florida. Anything under seventy degrees is cold.

Now you may ask, what is a woman from such a tropical clime doing writing about a ski resort in the mountains of Sierra Nevada? Like most things, it was a case of one thing following another. I knew I wanted to write about love and murder in a romantic but challenging setting. As romantic is the keyword, I stayed clear of hurricanes where everyone endures gale-force winds and deserts where everyone sweats. I was left with a ski resort.

Let’s face it, there’s nothing more romantic than snuggling with your honey before a warm fire while looking out at the falling snow and sipping a hot buttered rum. Or hot toddy. Both perfect for a snowy night.

I also wanted a lake. And not just any lake. I wanted a special lake alive with charm and whimsy. So I created a thermal lake, with warm currents rising off it year-round. When it’s colder and it snows – and it snows five-months out of the year at Snow Lake – the falling snow hits the warm updrafts. Each flake seems to dance above the lake before they melt. The sight is captivating, especially when there is a full moon.

What inevitably happened was Snow Lake and the ski resort became as real to me as all my other characters. That’s the most wonderful part about being a writer. We get to imagine and create. And sometimes we get paid for it.

 

About the Author

Heather Haven, in the midst of writing her fourteenth novel, has also written short stories, comedy acts, television treatments, ad copy, commercials, and plays. She has won numerous awards for her Silicon Valley-based Alvarez Family Murder Mysteries; Manhattan-based WWII Persephone Cole Vintage Mysteries; Ringling Brothers’ Circus mystery noir, Death of a Clown; and Corliss and Other Award-Winning Stories. She has two romantic suspense series: Love Can be Murder Mystery Novellas with Lee Alvarez and Gurn Hanson, the Nick and Nora Charles of Silicon Valley, and the new Snow Lake Romantic Suspense Novels, of which Christmas Trifle is Book One.

She and her husband of thirty-four years are allowed to live with their two cats, Ellie and Yulie, in the foothills of San Jose, California.

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FATAL STRIKE

by

DiANN MILLS

Genre: Romantic Suspense / Clean Romance / Christian

Publisher: Tyndale House Publishers

Date of Publication: September 3, 2019

Number of Pages: 400

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There’s a killer on the loose in Galveston, targeting law enforcement officials and using a fatal injection of snake venom to take them down. Authorities have reasons to believe the Veneno gang is behind the hits, and FBI Agents Leah Riesel and Jon Colbert team up to track down those responsible. Their best lead is an eyewitness who identifies a young man dumping the third body on a church doorstep. But their suspect has gone into hiding, and those closest to him are reluctant to reveal anything that might help investigators find him.

As Leah and Jon check connections among the victims and dig deeper into motives, they discover appearances may be deceiving. Someone is desperate to keep their secrets hidden, and Leah and Jon must face their greatest fears in order to stop the next fatal strike.

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Tyndale

 

 

 

 

 

 

I am not even sure where to begin with my thoughts on this book!  I haven’t read one of DiAnn’s books in a while and I’m not sure why.  Her books are gripping, remind us of faith, family, and ties in a multitude of issues that we see in the world today.

Leah and Jon have a hard job, or at least one that I wouldn’t want to perform, they are snipers for the FBI.  It is an important job but I wonder how someone can put aside the fact that they will most likely kill someone in the line of duty?  Granted anyone that is killed is usually a criminal, but it must weigh heavily on their hearts, or I would think that it might.  Despite their jobs and their alpha personalities, there is something between them that sparks further investigation to see if it might be more than just friendship.

There were so many aspects of this book that I enjoyed.  The characters were fleshed out and sometimes complex, the Christian part struck the perfect balance to the fast-paced action, there is a priest that struggles with his faith and doing what is right for society, and even a bit of potential romance for Leah and Jon.  All of the characters felt real with their own issues and how they dealt with those issues.  A big one for Leah is her fear of snakes and this book has them “thrown” at her from multiple directions.  I admired her strength despite it all especially in working to overcome that fear.  I felt like Jon was supportive of her and understood that sometimes there are things we are afraid to address in this life.

The main story centers around the deaths of three prominent citizens in Galveston, a gang, and a drug crisis.  The stories are interwoven neatly without giving away too many details to keep the reader in suspense.  I have to admit I did figure out part of the story only because looking at all of the characters, this was the only one that didn’t feel right.  There were many more involved in the end and I had a flurry of different emotions for the various characters.  Happy to see some get their just rewards, and sad that others had to endure the situations in which they were placed.

Leah and Jon both had unresolved issues when it came to family or close friends and their journey to closure rounded out the story.  The only thing I didn’t figure out was Leah’s heritage.  She mentions an ancestor that escaped slavery and there is a brief description of Leah, but that is about all is said in the story.  It didn’t really matter in the end, was just something I questioned.

Overall I really enjoyed this story and give it 5 paws up.

 

 

DiAnn Mills is a bestselling author who believes her readers should expect an adventure. She weaves memorable characters with unpredictable plots to create action-packed, suspense-filled novels. DiAnn believes every breath of life is someone’s story, so why not capture those moments and create a thrilling adventure?

Her titles have appeared on the CBA and ECPA bestseller lists; won two Christy Awards; and been finalists for the RITA, Daphne Du Maurier, Inspirational Readers’ Choice, and Carol Award contests.

DiAnn is a founding board member of the American Christian Fiction Writers, a member of Advanced Writers and Speakers Association, Mystery Writers of America, Sisters in Crime, and International Thriller Writers. She is the director of the Blue Ridge Mountain Christian Writers Conference, Mountainside Marketing Retreat, and the Mountainside Novelist Retreat with social media specialist Edie Melson where she continues her passion of helping other writers be successful. She speaks to various groups and teaches writing workshops around the country.

DiAnn has been termed a coffee snob and roasts her own coffee beans. She’s an avid reader, loves to cook, and believes her grandchildren are the smartest kids in the universe. She and her husband live in sunny Houston, Texas. She’s very active online and loves to connect with readers.

 

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Check out the other blogs on this tour

 

9/3/19	Author Video	Story Schmoozing Book Reviews
9/3/19	BONUS Post	Hall Ways Blog
9/4/19	Review	Momma on the Rocks
9/5/19	Review	StoreyBook Reviews
9/5/19	Author Interview	Texas Book Lover
9/6/19	Review	The Clueless Gent
9/7/19	Review	Forgotten Winds
9/7/19	Scrapbook	Chapter Break Book Blog
9/8/19	Review	That’s What She’s Reading
9/8/19	Review	The Love of a Bibliophile
9/9/19	Scrapbook	All the Ups and Downs
9/10/19	Review	Reading by Moonlight
9/10/19	Review	Book Fidelity
9/11/19	Author Interview	Max Knight
9/12/19	Review	KayBee’s Book Shelf
9/12/19	Review	Missus Gonzo

 

 

 

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Bark If It’s Murder (A Dog Club Mystery)
Cozy Mystery
3rd in Series
Lyrical Underground (August 27, 2019)
Paperback: 162 pages

Synopsis

Lilly Echosby just witnessed a murder on a pet cam. Or did she?

When a last-minute opportunity arises to accompany her boss to an art auction in Atlanta, Lilly throws some money at the problem of where to board her toy poodle Aggie (short for Agatha Christie). Posh Pet Haven offers the most luxurious canine accommodations in all of Chattanooga, Tennessee. The place even provides pet cams so anxious owners can check in on their pampered pooches.

But when Lilly tries to take a peek at her poodle, she gets a terrible shock—she witnesses what she’s sure is a murder. She thinks the victim may be the wealthy co-owner of Pet Haven. The police follow her lead but find no body, no evidence of a crime, and no video record. Starting to feel like the dog owner who cried wolf, Lilly decides to go undercover to catch a killer who may be hiding in plain sight …

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About the Author

V.M. Burns was born in Northwestern Indiana and spent many years in Southwestern Michigan on the Lake Michigan shoreline. She is a lover of dogs, British historic cozies, and scones with clotted cream. After many years in the Midwest, she went in search of milder winters and currently lives in Eastern Tennessee with her poodles. Her debut novel, The Plot is Murder was nominated for a 2017 Agatha Award for Best First Novel. Valerie is a member of Mystery Writers of America, International Thriller Writers, and a lifetime member of Sisters in Crime.

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I’ve Got You, Babe

by Lynnette Austin

Publication date: August 27, 2019

 

Synopsis

“Powerful chemistry that makes this a winning page-turner.”—Publishers Weekly for Must Love Babies

 

Where do you go when you’re at the end of your rope?

Former Marine Tucker Wylder wants nothing more than to work with his brothers in their vintage car restoration business and be left alone with his nightmares and regrets. The last thing he needs is to take on someone else’s troubles…

Then Elisa Danvers and her young daughter arrive in Misty Bottoms, Georgia. Elisa has reached the end of the line—flat broke, engine trouble, sick in body and spirit. Tucker steps up to the rescue and finds himself reluctantly taking care of a feisty preschooler and her independent mother, who doesn’t seem to want his help. And Tucker isn’t sure he’s ready for the way precocious little Daisy and headstrong, beautiful Elisa herself capture first his bachelor household and finally his carefully guarded heart…

 

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Must Love Babies Series

Must Love Babies (Book 1)

I’ve Got You Babe (Book 2)

 

What People Are Saying about Lynnette Austin

“Austin is a talented writer with a gift for capturing the charming…dynamic and interesting.”—Kirkus Reviews for Must Love Babies

“Austin’s sweet small-town romance hits all the right buttons.”—Booklist for Must Love Babies

“Readers will be drawn in most of all by the sweet Southern romance.”—Publishers Weekly for Picture Perfect Wedding

“Romance that has it all… A beautifully written tale of romance, friendship, and learning to trust.”—Fresh Fiction for Every Bride Has Her Day

 

Excerpt

A cup of hot, black coffee in hand and a well-earned—and desperately needed—weekend fishing trip on his mind, Tucker unlocked the front door of Wylder Rides. The smell of oil and new tires welcomed him like an old friend. He liked the peace and quiet of the early morning, the solitude before his brothers arrived.

When a breeze drifted in through the open bay door, he thanked the stars the calendar had finally flipped to October. This summer, his first in Misty Bottoms, Georgia, had been hotter than Hades. With the onslaught of autumn, though, temperatures had dipped to a less humid mid-seventies.

Still, even the Georgia low-country summer had been a hell of a sight better than the sweltering heat he’d suffered during his Middle East deployment. There the July temperatures hovered above the hundred-degree mark. Add in the blistering sun, and the place could turn a man’s hide to shoe leather in no time. Don’t even get him started on the never-ending sand that found its way into every crack and crevice on the human body and scoured exposed skin raw.

A tough place to live. A worse place to die.

Involuntarily, his hands clenched into fists. Taking a deep breath, he relaxed them. Not today. He dropped to the creeper, slid partially beneath the ’Vette, and got busy replacing the brake lines.

Southern rock blasted from his stereo. Over the magic of Charlie Daniel’s fiddle, Tucker heard a car slow, then pull in out front. Its muffler was shot. The engine knocked, coughed and sputtered, then shut down with a rattle.

Seconds later, a totally different sound caught his attention—high heels on the garage’s concrete floor. Tucker slid a sidelong glance toward the front of the bay and almost swallowed his tongue. Framed in the narrow window between the floor and the car’s bumper were a pair of legs that would have any red-blooded man drooling…and they crossed slowly toward him. Laying the wrench on the floor beside him, he gave a push with his foot and slid the creeper from beneath the car.

Flat on his back, he let his gaze travel up over a body that matched the legs beat for beat, then on to a face only angels could have created. The heart-shaped face, with its sensuous lips and the biggest, bluest eyes he’d ever seen, sent a shockwave rocketing through him. Long, pale blond hair had been caught back in a ponytail.

An illusion? Maybe he’d breathed too many gas fumes and was hallucinating?

Nope. This woman was real and, from the expression on that stunning face, in trouble.

“My car—” She waved a hand toward the front of the building.

“Could use some work,” Tucker finished, slowly getting to his feet. Wiping his hands on a grease rag, he moved toward her. “Look, we’re not a repair shop, but I can probably figure out what’s wrong. If it’s minor—”

She swayed and reached out toward the wall.

“You okay?” Even as Tucker spoke, he saw those mind-blowing eyes go blank. Dark lashes fanned her cheeks.

With a muttered curse, he lunged, barely reaching her before she hit the floor. Heart racing, he held her against him and swore again. Out cold.

“Hey, can you hear me?” He tapped her cheek but got no response. “Wake up.”

Sweat broke out on his brow. Where were his brothers? They should be here by now. What was he supposed to do with an unconscious woman? He leaned his head close to hers, relief flooding him when her breath whispered against his cheek.

A high-pitched wail split the air. Panicked, his head whipped up, and he glanced toward the beater parked out front. The driver’s side door hung open; in the back, strapped into a child’s seat, sat a little girl with her mama’s pale blond hair—a little girl winding up for one hell of a crying jag.

And the day just got better!

He shook the limp woman gently, noticed the sheen of perspiration on her face. “Come on, sugar. For God’s sake, open those baby blues.”

She didn’t.

Kneeling and taking the woman down with him, he spread an old garage blanket and laid her carefully on it, straightening the short skirt of her flower-print dress.

With his forearm, he swiped the sweat from his brow. “Hey, wake up.”

She didn’t.

Okay. Time to tackle the second half of this double-feature horror show.

Edging toward the used-up Ford Escort and its young occupant in much the same way he’d approach a suspected sniper’s nest, he pulled out his phone and hit 911.

The sheriff answered on the first ring. “Misty Bottoms Police Department. What can I do ya?”

“Jimmy Don, it’s Tuck Wylder. I’m out at my shop.” Opening the sedan’s back door, he stared at the young child, at her tear-covered face and runny nose. He’d guess her to be maybe two or three years old. An opened bag of pretzels lay on the seat. Leaning in, he grabbed one and handed it to her. She raised it to her mouth and chewed, her cries dying to quiet whimpers.

Thank you, Jesus.

“Tuck? What’s goin’ on?” the sheriff demanded.

“A woman pulled up in front of our place, and, well, she’s passed out.”

“Been drinkin’?”

“I don’t think so, but she’s hot.”

“I don’t care how good lookin’ she is.”

“No, Jimmy Don. Not hot hot, hot! As in sweating.”

“Well, why didn’t you say so?”

“I did!” Who’s on first? he thought.

“Do I hear a kid?”

Exasperated, Tucker raked fingers through his short hair, his gaze travelling over the woman. She still hadn’t moved. What a friggin’ mess!

“Yeah, you do. She came with the woman who’s passed out on my garage floor.”

“She okay?”

Tucker raised his eyes to the heavens and rubbed at his forehead. “Which one?”

“The kid.”

“How would I know? Nothing wrong with her lungs, I can tell you that.” The nagging beginning of a headache bloomed into a full-fledged whopper.

“You need an ambulance or you gonna take the gal in to see Doc Hawkins?”

“What?” Tucker pulled the cell away to stare at it. Bringing it back to his ear, he asked, “Are you serious, Jimmy Don? You want me to pick up an unconscious stranger, toss her in my car, along with the baby, and drive them into town?”

“So I guess you want me to send the town’s ambulance out there.”

“Bingo.”

 

***

Excerpted from I’ve Got You, Babe by Lynnette Austin. © 2019 by Lynnette Austin. Used with permission of the publisher, Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc. All rights reserved.

 

 

About the Author

LYNNETTE AUSTIN gave up the classroom to write full time. An author of eight novels, she has been a finalist in RWA’s Golden Heart Contest, PASIC’s Book of Your Heart Contest, and Georgia Romance Writers’ Maggie Contest. She and her husband divide their time between Southwest Florida’s beaches and Blairsville, GA.

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