Monday 25 April 2022

Double-Edged Sword by J.D.R. Hawkins

 

 

 



The Civil War has ended.

Confederate cavalryman, David Summers, returns home to Alabama, taking his new wife, Anna, with him. Upon arrival, he understands how much the war has changed him and has scarred his homeland. Faced with challenges of transition, he learns how to navigate his new world, along with the pain and trauma of his past. He is also forced to confront his foes, including Stephen Montgomery. Their hatred for one another inevitably boils over into a fierce confrontation, whereby David is arrested.

Will the jury believe his side of the story, even though he is an ex-Confederate? Or will he be hung for his crime?



Book Links:
Goodreads * Amazon.in * Amazon.com

Read and Excerpt from Double-Edged Sword


An owl hooted off in the distance. There came a rustling from within, and the bolt slid. The door slowly opened a crack. A girl peered out. She hesitated for a moment, then recognized her brother’s grinning face, and threw the door wide. Anna saw she was dressed in a nightgown, her long dark brown hair hanging loose.
“David!” she squealed, throwing herself on him. “You’re home! I can’t believe it!”
The siblings embraced, laughing.
“Rena,” he said after they’d held each other for a moment. “It’s mighty good to see you.” They hugged again, but then he remembered his manners. “Oh, this here’s Anna!”
She immediately embraced her. “Anna, I’m right happy to know you!”
“I’m happy to meet you too,” she replied, smiling.
Rena took hold of her hands and pulled her inside. I’ve so looked forward to this day!” David’s younger sister said. She hugged him once more and gave him a kiss on the cheek, then took hold of his hands and led him into the front room. “Ma!” she cried over her shoulder. “Josie!”
David chuckled, ecstatic with the reunion. “You look beautiful,” he remarked.
Rena snickered, suddenly conscious of her attire.
A door in the back room creaked. “What’s goin’ on out here? I thought I heard …” The woman stopped and stared wide-eyed at the three figures standing in the dark. “David!” she wailed, and ran to him.
He enveloped her in his arms.
“Oh, praise be!” she began sobbing. “My boy has come home at last!”
David held her tightly, struggling to contain his emotions while Anna looked on, overcome with sentiment. Rena crossed the room and lit a few candles. Now the sight was even more profound, because the expression on their mother’s face was heart-wrenching. Her eyes were pinched tight as tears streamed down her cheeks. He gave her a slight squeeze, released her, and saw that she seemed to have aged considerably since he last saw her.
“Rena! Go fetch your sister!” Caroline requested excitedly. “Oh, let me git a good look at you!” She stepped back, keeping her hands grasped tightly onto her son’s arms, then pulled him close and kissed his cheeks. A younger girl with long auburn hair emerged through a side door with Rena following behind.
“David!” she shrieked. She threw herself into his waiting arms.
The two hugged like frolicking bruins.
“You’re here! You’re truly here!” She held onto him for a solid minute before his mother protested.
“Now, Josie, give him a chance to breathe!”
She released him, and he snickered.
“Why, take a gander at you, Josie! You ain’t a li’l girl any longer. All of fifteen, now.”
Josie nodded, a big grin on her face. “And you’re an old feller, all of twenty!”
David laughed. “Reckon you have to beat the boys off with a stick!”
“No,” said Josie solemnly. “There ain’t too many boys my age left in these parts.”
Rena stood beside Anna, absorbing the spectacle. She took her hand and smiled at her.
Anna couldn’t help but smile back, even though she felt precarious and homesick.
“I’ve so much to tell you!” Josie exclaimed “We’ve so much to talk about!”
“First I want to introduce my bride,” David said. “Ma, Josie, this here’s Anna.” He turned to her and held out his hand, prompting her to take it.
“Mrs. Summers,” she said shyly, “Josie. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”
David’s mother looked at her for a moment, then smiled and embraced her. “Oh, my dear Anna.” She released her. “It’s right good to have you home.”
Josie hugged her as well. Standing back, she exclaimed, “I have a new sister!”
Everyone chuckled.
David glanced around the room, which seemed to be missing a few pieces of furniture. He looked at the mantle, and saw the clock his father had given his mother as a wedding present, along with his father’s portrait, but the photograph he’d had taken in Huntsville before he left for the army wasn’t beside it. He was about to ask where it was when his mother grasped his hand.
“Come with me, David. We have somethin’ to show you.”
She led him out back, and the young ladies followed. Two dogs ran up to greet them, sniffing at Anna’s skirts as she made her way through the unfamiliar dark. She knew they were the dogs David had told her about, Caleb and Si. The family trudged past neglected outbuildings. Chickens clucked inside the henhouse, alarmed by the invasion.
“Where are the pigs?” asked David.
“I’ll explain all that later.” Caroline led him up an incline to a little white cottage that was tucked before a thicket.
“Granny’s old house?” he asked.
“We fixed it up for you!” Josie declared. “‘Cause we knew you’d be comin’!”
The family entered the one-room dwelling, and Caroline lit a candle. In the glow, David saw a little table, two chairs, a five-drawer dresser with an attached mirror, and a double bed with a small nightstand beside it. Red-and-white checkered homespun curtains hung over each of the two windows.
Anna entered behind Rena and gasped. “You did all this for us?” she asked, her eyes welling up. She was far more exhausted than she had realized, and her emotions were soaring.
“We’ve been workin’ on it for the past month,” explained Josie.
Anna walked over and sat on the bed. It creaked in protest, but was firm, nevertheless. “I can’t wait to try this out!” she exclaimed.
The girls giggled.
“Oh! I didn’t mean …” Anna blushed.
David gave her a crooked grin. “Ma,” he said, turning toward her, “I know Joe Boy was stolen ‘cause we got your letters.”
“Yes, the soldiers took our horse, along with most of the livestock. It’s a miracle our letters got through,” Caroline stated. “A simple act of God, that’s what I believe.” She smiled. “And the postmaster, Mr. Ford, assisted, of course. Every time he saw a letter come from you, he stowed it so the Yankees wouldn’t have a chance to confiscate it. And he made sure our letters got up to you, but since then, they’ve been watchin’ us right close. How many did you receive?”
“Well, I got the one you sent to me in prison, and the one you mailed last summer, after I told you about my marriage to Anna. And I received one from Rena, and one from Josie while I was in prison.”
Caroline nodded wisely, piecing it together. “Those first three letters were sent in February.”
“They were? I didn’t git them till spring.”
“And I sent you cookies. Did you receive them?”
“No, ma’am. They were gone.”
“That figures,” Caroline grumbled. She threw a glance at Anna.
“What about Renegade?” Josie asked. “Did you bring him?”
“Sure did!” replied David with a grin. “Would you go fetch the wagon and take it around to the barn?”  
His little sister nodded and ran out the door.
Rena stepped toward him and took his hand. “We’re very proud of you,” she spoke melodically.
His heart fluttered with the sound of her lilting voice.
The newlyweds proceeded to talk about their trip, and soon, Josie returned.
“They got us a mule!” she announced.
“We brought other items for you as well,” informed Anna.
Caroline nodded, and discreetly covered a yawn, which sparked yawns from everyone else in the room. “She smiled. “It seems we’re all a bit tuckered out. Let us git some rest, and we’ll talk further in the mornin’. There’s food in the kitchen if y’all are hungry.”
“Thanks, Ma,” David replied.
After Caroline and her daughters hugged him, they walked back to the house. He turned to face Anna after closing the door.
“Well, this is nice, ain’t it?” He flashed a smile and sat down beside her. “And I can’t wait to try out this bed, either.” He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her tenderly.
They gazed into each other’s eyes.
“So, this was your grandmother’s cottage?” she asked.
“Yeah. She lived back here as long as I can remember. Jist her. Granddaddy died before I was born. She died here.”
Anna cringed. “In this bed?”
“Uh huh. Oh,” he said as he remembered. “I’d best go settle Renie and Ginger, and bring in the trunk. I’ll fetch us some vittles too.” He stood and strode toward the door. “I’ll be right back,” he promised as he went out, and closed the wooden slab door behind him.
Anna stood, brushed the wrinkles from her skirt, walked to the window, and peered out, watching her husband vanish into the darkness. She turned and absorbed the ambiance. It is lovely, she thought to herself, the perfect honeymoon cottage. She smiled, and investigated the tiny fireplace, running her hand across the roughhewn mantle, already making plans on how to decorate it.
She sank down onto the bed. Suddenly, she felt out of her element, and broke into a sweat. Could it be that David’s family members were behaving the way they were for his benefit only? What if they weren’t sincere, and considered her an intruder? Anna hoped with all her heart they would treasure her, but everything seemed so alien here. Perhaps, when they learned about another new family member they were about to acquire, they’d accept her. She lay back and placed her hand upon her stomach. David would need to know soon as well. This situation was only temporary; this was merely a visit. She would return home by year’s end, even if she had to take him away from his family permanently. Somehow, she would make it happen.


About the Author:
J.D.R. Hawkins is an Amazon, USA Today and Wall Street Journal bestselling, award-winning author. She is one of a few female Civil War authors, uniquely describing the front lines from a Confederate perspective. Her "Renegade Series" includes "A Beautiful Glittering Lie," winner of the 2013 John Esten Cooke Fiction Award and the 2012 B.R.A.G. Medallion. The sequel, "A Beckoning Hellfire," is an Amazon bestseller and winner of the 2022 B.R.A.G. Medallion. "A Rebel Among Us," the third book in the series, is the recipient of the 2017 John Esten Cooke Fiction Award and winner of the 2022 B.R.A.G. Medallion. Double-Edged Sword is the newly-published, fourth book in the series. These books, published by Westwood Books Publishing, LLC, tell the story of a family from north Alabama who experience immeasurable pain when their lives are dramatically changed by the war. Ms. Hawkins has also published a nonfiction book about the War Between the States, titled "Horses in Gray: Famous Confederate Warhorses," with Pelican Publishing.  She is a member of the United Daughters of the Confederacy, the International Women's Writing Guild, Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers, and Pikes Peak Writers. Ms. Hawkins is also an artist and a singer/songwriter.

JDR Hawkins on the Web:







Sunday 24 April 2022

Witchblood by Matthew Erman & Lisa Sterle

I am so excited that WITCHBLOOD by Matthew Erman &  Lisa Sterle is available now and that I get to share the news!

If you haven’t yet heard about this wonderful book, be sure to check out all the details below.

This blitz also includes a giveaway for 2 finished copies of WITCHBLOOD courtesy of Vault Comics Rockstar Book Tours. So if you’d like a chance to win, check out the giveaway info below.

 

About The Book:

Title: WITCHBLOOD: The Complete Series (Witchblood #1-10)

Author: Matthew Erman, Lisa Sterle (Illustrations),Gab Contreras, Jim Campbell

Pub. Date: April 26, 2022

Publisher: Vault Comics

Formats: Paperback, eBook

Pages: 256

Find it: GoodreadsAmazon, Kindle, B&NiBooks, KoboTBD, Bookshop.org

A non-stop supernatural action adventure bathed in magic, blood, motorcycles, mayhem, vampires, and an unconventional. 1,000 year-old witch named Yonna.

MAGIC IS IN THE BLOOD

A modern, Wild West road trip about a witch named Yonna cruising the Southwest as a band of bloodthirsty biker vampires, The Hounds of Love, hunt her scattered coven for the source of all magic: witch blood. From the critically acclaimed creators of The Modern Witch Tarot Deck and Long Lost comes Witchblood, a blend of action, lore, and Americana—perfect for fans of Buffy and American Gods.

Reviews:

"Loud and brash and high-energy, the kind of thing that makes readers yearn to see what will come next...[packed with] gripping, stylish thrills." ― Women Write About Comics

"A mixtape in comic form, that blends familiar lore, with the roughness of the Wild West...the creative team has successfully given us a character who although vulnerable, packs some serious attitude, you can’t help but root for her, and with the dangers she has stumbled upon and the revelation of her WITCHBLOOD, we are on our way to be treated to some action-packed, magic in the making." ― Geek Network

"Witchblood #1 is a fun, splashy start to a stylish series." ― AV Club

"Want a chaotic, fun time? Witchblood is just the levels of chaos you need in your life." ― Wandering Nerd Girl

"Witchblood is the most beautiful form of a passion project...This comic really is something special, not just for fans of witchcraft and vampires, but for anyone who loves colour, representation, and the craft done right." ― The Valkyries

Named one of "the comics and graphic novels worth mentioning from 2021" ― THRILLIST

 

Excerpt: 



About Matthew Erman:

Matthew Erman is a comics writer from Columbus, Ohio. Alongside Lisa Sterle, he co-created the critically acclaimed comic horror series, Long Lost, which was optioned for Film/TV by Producer Jenny Klein (The Witcher, Daisy Jones and The Six). Erman has since worked on the comic book series Jim Henson’s The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance and graphic novel Power Rangers: Sins of the Future with BOOM! Studios, series Care Bears: Unlock the Magic with IDW, the upcoming  science fiction/ horror / humorous romance original graphic novel BONDING, with artist and co-creator Emily Pearson for Vault Comics, and the smash supernatural action adventure comics series (with artist/co-creator Lisa Sterle) from Vault Comics, WITCHBLOOD. His short work can be found in anthologies such as Corpus (2018), Dead Beats (2019) and Everything is Going Wrong (2019).

 

Website | Twitter | Instagram | Goodreads | Amazon

 

About Lisa Sterle:

Lisa Sterle is a Columbus artist with work spanning from comic books to concept design to pop-culture-fueled illustration. Her work is often bright, expressive, and occasionally tinged with horror— marrying her two favorite themes: the beautiful and the grotesque. She has worked with HarperCollins, IDW, Image, Archie Comics, Vault Comics, BOOM! Studios, and many others. She is the co-creator of monthly comics Long Lost and Submerged (Vault Comics), and Witchblood (Vault comics), as well as creator of The Modern Witch Tarot Deck, a modern and diverse interpretation of the classic Rider-Waite tarot deck. Currently she is working on the graphic novel Squad with writer Maggie Tokuda-Hall for Greenwillow Books.

WITCHBLOOD is the first time Lisa Sterle’s wider (witchy/tarot/occult) audience has access to her all-new  book (to be found in book stores in which they frequent), and it is her first creator-owned project since The Modern Witch Tarot.

As the creator of the smash, best-selling, The Modern Witch Tarot, Lisa has a super rabid fan base, and with over 16K Twitter followers, she is known as one of the most “influential witches in the world!”  Further, Lisa was voted by Watkins Body Mind Spirit Magazine as one of the Top 100 Most Spiritually Influential  Living People  (Pope Francis is #1, Dalai Lama is #2; Lisa is #92 – Neil de Grasse Tyson is #93!)

Here’s more about Lisa Sterle’s  diverse, all-female, Modern Witch Tarot:

    • The Modern Witch Tarot has sold over TWO MILLION UNITS since its release on October 1, 2019
    • The Modern Witch Tarot is the #1 Bestselling Tarot in the world – ever!
    • It is the #1 BESTSELLER in Amazon’s Tarot category
    • It is the #2 BESTSELLER in Amazon’s Fortune Telling category
    • It is the #4 BESTSELLER in Amazon’s Witchcraft Religion & Spirituality category
    • The Modern Witch Tarot has over 13,000 reviews
    • The Modern Witch Tarot is rated 5 stars on Amazon
    • The Modern Witch Tarot has been in the TOP 500 Books on Amazon since release
    • The Modern Witch Tarot reinvented the Rider-Waite deck for modern use

Website | Twitter | Instagram | Tumblr | Goodreads

 

Giveaway Details:

2 winners will receive a finished copy of WITCHBLOOD, US Only.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Thursday 21 April 2022

Mouse Trap by Matt L Cost

Mouse Trap by Matt L Cost Banner

Mouse Trap

by Matt L Cost

April 4-29, 2022 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

Mouse Trap by Matt L Cost

When Clay Wolfe is hired to find out who tried to steal a mouse, he thought it was akin to a fireman getting a cat out of a tree. It wasn’t.

“Sometimes bad genes need to be stamped out and good ones need to be fostered,” Bridget Engel said. “There’s really no difference between mice and human beings when it comes to genes.” She wore a gray suit, and her blonde hair was cut short in the style that Hillary Clinton had made popular.

When Clay Wolfe rekindles an old romance, the summer is looking bright. It wasn’t.

He woke in the middle of the night, gathered his things, and slipped away. After Clay left, Victoria rose from the bed and went into the bathroom, carefully removed the condom from the Kleenex it was wrapped in and put it in a plastic baggie.

Who is the mysterious man who clubs Westy with a hammer and threatens the lives of everybody Clay Wolfe holds dear?

Now, Clive Miller was a fixer. He took care of problems that arose. Once given a task, his hands weren’t tied, and he was well-paid for his troubles. There were two simple rules. Eliminate the problem. Don’t draw attention.

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery/Thriller
Published by: Encircle Publications, LLC
Publication Date: April 13, 2022
Number of Pages: 312
ISBN: 1645993299 (ISBN13: 9781645993292)
Series: A Clay Wolfe / Port Essex Mystery Book 3
Purchase Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

Chapter 1:

Monday, July 6th

“Sometimes bad genes need to be stamped out and good ones need to be fostered,” Bridget Engel said. “There’s really no difference between mice and human beings when it comes to genes.” She wore a gray suit, and her blond hair was cut short in the style that Hillary Clinton had made popular.

Victoria Haas was careful to not let her fork drop to the plate and her mouth fall open in astonishment, not the expected response of ladies of power in business and society. Women who gaped did not drink the 2015 Chablis 1er Cru Fôrets for lunch in the swank private dining room of the exclusive Port Essex Harborside Hotel in the company of the CEO of Johnson Labs, one of the premier biomedical research companies in the U.S. and Maine’s third largest employer.

Victoria had been coming here since she could remember, while Engel had only moved to Port Essex some ten years earlier. Yet, she’d never known about this ornate oasis just off the main dining room. It appeared that this private room was reserved exclusively by Johnson for business functions and engagements.

What did Engel mean by stamped out, Victoria wondered? She’d brought up the subject in passing, asking how one could ensure that your baby was genetically gifted only to be somewhat taken aback by the abruptness of the answer. She bought some time taking a bit of the Cobb salad. Even though her ship had passed Engel’s at many political and official functions in the past years, this was the first time they’d met for a social engagement.

“How does one go about stamping out bad genes?” Victoria asked, taking a small sip of the chardonnay. She was also blonde, but was much more fashionably dressed, with a shirtwaist dress, dirndl skirt, Chanel slingbacks, and a string of pearls around her neck.

Engel was looking through the wall-size window into the main dining room, a window Victoria knew was mirrored on the other side. There were four tables in the room she was surveying, but only one occupied, by three men and a woman. This was the room that Victoria knew well, one that she’d eaten in countless times. It was one of the men at the table who’d caused Victoria to bring up the subject of babies. She’d known him since she was a little girl, even having had a fling with him after her senior year in high school, but she’d barely seen him since as their lives has led them in two different directions.

“It used to be easier,” Engel said, her attention drawn to the other room. “There was a time when the disabled, the poor, the inferior, and the promiscuous could be sterilized. Instead of having them grow up to be criminals filling our jails, or to let them starve out of their own imbecility, the United States used to prevent those who were manifestly unfit from continuing their kind.”

“Do you know those people?” Victoria nodded her head at the window.

“The two men with their backs to us work for my company,” Engel said.

Victoria nodded, taking another sip of the Chardonnay. She knew that Engel’s company, based nearby in East Essex, did genetic experiments on mice in an effort to eradicate disease, but she wasn’t quite sure where sterilization came in. The waiter approached and poured another scant inch of wine into their glasses.

“It seems that sterilization has long been out of favor,” Victoria said. “Perhaps there are other ways to…ensure that deficient genes are not passed on to one’s offspring?”

Engel turned from the view of the other room and focused on Victoria. “We’ve made great advances in the past few years. Soon, much disease will be a thing of the past.”

“That doesn’t take care of the slovenly or the stupid, though, now does it.”

“No, no it doesn’t.”

“You said something about fostering good genes?”

“Why are you asking?”

Victoria looked at the man facing her in the other room. He was the answer to something she’d been contemplating for some time now. She wasn’t getting any younger, and, for the past year, she had felt this emotional void, an emptiness only filled when she imagined bringing an extension of herself into this world, something larger than her work, her money, or anything she’d ever known.

“I’ve wondered about what it might be like to have a baby,” Victoria said.

“Tiresome,” Engel said, and the two women laughed.

“But truly,” Victoria said. “I have thoughts of becoming a mother.”

“I know the Haas family has impeccable genes and have had so for generations,” Engel said. “What of the father?”

“I haven’t chosen a father as of yet.”

“Does that mean you’re holding tryouts?” The two women looked at each before breaking into giggles.

“In a way, yes,” Victoria said. “I certainly don’t want my child to be average.”

“Or your husband.”

“I don’t believe I said that I was looking for a spouse.” Victoria’s tone changed from jest to business in a split second. “Just a baby.”

“Men can be a nuisance. How do you propose picking a father?”

“I have somebody in mind. I have had his background looked into—in all the usual ways. But if I wanted to do a DNA check on him, how would I go about it?”

The waiter opened the door, and Engel waved him away impatiently. “You could simply ask them to submit to a test. A swab from the inside of the cheek or a blood sample would do fine.”

“That might be a bit delicate.”

“He doesn’t know that he’s applying to be the father?” Engel asked.

Victoria blushed. “Not exactly. How about a hair?”

Engel shook her head. “You’d have to be sure to pull out the follicle and part of the scalp to be certain, and that would be noticeable.”

“How, then?”

“Are you…sexually active with him?”

“Not for nineteen years.”

Engel laughed. “I’m sure the poor dummkopf doesn’t stand a chance against a woman such as you. Tell you what? Why don’t you seduce the poor fool and bring me a sample of his semen? I can have people at the lab analyze it and let you know whether he’s worthy of being the father of your child or not.”

***

“We must first establish the need for utmost confidentiality as concerns any and all of our business dealings and any such information, trade secrets, intellectual property or any related knowledge you may be…exposed to as you go about your work for us.”

The legalese hung heavy in the air over the table in the fancy function room of the Harborside Hotel where they were eating. The clean-cut fellow with the five-thousand-dollar suit had uttered the words more as a threat than a statement, the other man, his duds no less expensive, nodding in rhythm almost as if listening to music. He must be the lawyer, Clay Wolfe thought, wishing they would get to the point, not that he was invited into Port Essex’s inner sanctum for a fine lunch every day, but still….

“Of course,” he replied. “That is a standard clause of my contract.”

“I have a, um, slightly more binding non-disclosure agreement that I’d like you to sign.”

The man had said that his name was Rex Bolton and that he was chief operating officer of Johnson Laboratories. On second glance, he was not as well manicured as Clay had originally thought. His sandy blond hair was tight on the sides but tousled on top, and lines creased his face suggesting worry rather than age.

“I don’t see why that would be a problem,” Clay said, nodding. He hadn’t recognized most of the dishes on the menu and had ordered a Cobb salad. The waiter came and went so quietly and with such self-effacing efficiency that he was almost invisible. Unlike the quite impressive Frederick Remington statue in the corner next to a large mirror that made the room seem bigger than it was.

There were two tables separating Clay and his business partner, Baylee Baker, from the two men from Johnson Laboratories. This was to provide the minimum six feet of social distancing in this time of Covid-19. Baylee was slender with legs that went on forever, a bit of bronze to her skin, and brown hair that matched her eyes. The words Real People were tattooed on the inside of her left forearm. The glass of white wine in front of her was nearly untouched, unlike the surf ’n’ turf, scallops and Angus tips, which she’d demolished, much to Clay’s amusement. The woman had an appetite.

The lawyer, with as yet no name, looked at Baylee. “Absolute confidentiality, Mr. Wolfe, is what we need and expect.”

“Miss Baker is my lead investigator and a partner in the firm,” Clay said. He took a sip of the expensive scotch that he sure hoped was going on someone else’s tab.

“Nonetheless, we must insist,” the lawyer said.

Clay leant back in his chair. His hands pressed lightly onto the elegant tablecloth. He ignored the lawyer and spoke directly to Bolton. “I could tell you that I won’t include her in the case,” he said. “But I’d be lying. If it’s a deal breaker, then I’m sorry.” He steepled his fingers under his chin, his cards played, ready to accept the outcome however it went.

“I’m sure that we can have Miss Baker sign the NDA as well,” Bolton said.

The lawyer reached down to the chair beside him, taking up two thick-stapled copies from a briefcase and sliding them across the dual tables. “Please sign where indicated.” It seems he’d been prepared for this eventuality. They didn’t appear to be men who were surprised by much.

“What do you know about Johnson Laboratories, Mr. Wolfe?” Bolton asked when they were done, the paperwork safely stashed back in the lawyer’s briefcase with copies for Clay and Baylee slipped into a thick envelope.

“They, you, employ quite a few people in the area,” Clay said. “You’ve got a complex in East Essex.” He shrugged. “Testing with mice or something like that.”

Bolton smiled, a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. “We’re the largest employer north of BIW with over a thousand employees. This includes over two hundred men and women with doctorates or other advanced degrees who investigate the genetic bases of cancer, disease, autoimmunity, and many other disorders. JOHNS is known for biomedical research that bridges translational and clinical contexts. We integrate mouse genetics and human genomics to understand the underlying cause of human health and disease. There have been nineteen Nobel Prizes associated with our work.”

“So, you do test with mice,” Baylee said.

Clay fought back a chuckle. That was about all he’d gotten out of the mumbo jumbo that Bolton had just spouted out, too.

“Yes, Miss Baker. As a matter of fact, we are the world’s supplier for over nine thousand strains of genetically defined mice.”

“That’s where all those rodents come from,” Baylee said.

“More importantly, they are mammals,” Bolton said. “Very similar to humans in many ways. We have even created a humanized mouse.”

“A humanized mouse?” Clay asked.

“Mouse models with human immune cell engraftment represent ground-breaking platforms to evaluate compounds to treat a variety of human diseases, from cancer and infectious diseases to allergies and inflammation.”

“Oh, I see,” Clay said. But he did not see at all. He did deem it best to not be an ignoramus when trying to land a case from a man in a five-thousand-dollar suit. “How about you tell us why you’re here and what you need from us?”

“We are worried that our research has been compromised,” Bolton said.

Clay nodded. “You must have your own security. Why us?”

Bolton looked at the lawyer, who said, “You understand that breaking the NDA could possibly be a treasonous offense, and that you could be prosecuted as a traitor to the United States of America.”

“You think the Russians or the Chinese are hacking you? Like they did with the Covid-19 vaccine? Because I’m sort of under the impression we should just be sharing that stuff, you know, if it’s going to save human lives.” Clay wondered, what could possibly be hacked in regard to mice?

“It’s more sensitive and delicate than you could imagine, Mr. Wolfe.” Bolton’s voice expressed exasperation.

“Perhaps I should get my lawyer to read through the NDA before I go any further,” Clay said. His lawyer was his grandpops, eighty-four years of age, still with a keen mind.

“That might be for the best,” Bolton said.

“What can you tell us about the case?” Baylee asked. “Without possibly compromising our freedom?”

“I like your directness, Miss Baker,” Bolton said. “Quite simply, somebody has been stealing mice.”

He’s worried that it’s an inside job, Clay thought. But stealing mice? It was quite a leap from that to treason. The mice must be quite special, possessing something so sensitive, that if he, Clay Wolfe, leaked, he could be arrested as a traitor and thrown into some place like Guantanamo without charges or trial. This was serious shit.

“And you suspect your own security team of being involved?” Clay asked.

“We don’t know who to suspect,” Bolton said. “But it is concerning.”

“I think before we get into the nuts and bolts of this that we’ll have our lawyer go over the NDA,” Clay said. “It shouldn’t take long. Perhaps we can get together tomorrow and move forward?”

“Time is of the essence, Mr. Wolfe,” Bolton said.

“Of course, I understand.”

The lawyer reached into his case and retrieved the NDA and slid it back across the table.

“One of our security team disappeared over the weekend,” Bolton said. “He was on the night shift for the fourth. Showed up to work. Was last seen about 2:00 AM. Never checked out. Never went home. Gone.”

***

Excerpt from Mouse Trap by Matt L Cost. Copyright 2022 by Matt L Cost. Reproduced with permission from Matt L Cost. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Matt L Cost

Matt Cost is the highly acclaimed, award-winning author of the Mainely Mystery series. The first book, Mainely Power, was selected as the Maine Humanities Council Read ME fiction book of 2020. This was followed by Mainely Fear, Mainely Money, and Mainely Angst. I Am Cuba: Fidel Castro and the Cuban Revolution was his first traditionally published novel. He had another historical released in August of 2021, Love in a Time of Hate. Wolfe Trap and Mind Trap were the first two in the Clay Wolfe Port Essex Trap series. Mouse Trap is the third in this series. Cost was a history major at Trinity College. He owned a mystery bookstore, a video store, and a gym, before serving a ten-year sentence as a junior high school teacher. In 2014 he was released and began writing. And that’s what he does. He writes histories and mysteries. Cost now lives in Brunswick, Maine, with his wife, Harper. There are four grown children: Brittany, Pearson, Miranda, and Ryan. A chocolate Lab and a basset hound round out the mix. He now spends his days at the computer, writing.

Catch Up With Matt:
www.mattcost.net
Goodreads
BookBub - @matthewcost
Instagram - @mlangdoncost
Twitter - @MattCost8
Facebook

 

 

Tour Participants:

Visit these other great hosts on this tour for more great reviews, interviews, guest posts, and giveaways!

 

 

 

Join for a Chance to WIN!

This is a giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Tours for Matt Cost. See the widget for entry terms and conditions. Void where prohibited.

 

 

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Wednesday 20 April 2022

I Do or Don't by Rob Edwards

Today Rob Edwards and Rockstar Book Tours are revealing the cover for I DO OR I DON'T, his new Hollywood Thriller book which releases May 18 2022! Check out the awesome cover and enter the giveaway!

 

On to the reveal! 


About the Book:

Title: I DO OR I DON'T

Author: Rob Edwards

Pub. Date: May 18, 2022

Publisher: Rayn Media Inc.

Formats: Paperback, eBook

Pages: 284

Find it: GoodreadsAmazon, iBooks, Kobo

Beautiful Brooke Winthrop, and brash Becca Dodge are known in Hollywood circles as the Queen B’s for their meteoric success. They are the host and producer of I Do or I Don’t, the number-one-rated reality television show in the country. It is a whirlwind courtship show that ends every episode at the altar where two people must decide, on live TV, whether they will say the words that will change the rest of their lives.

One unlucky bride says, “I do,” only to be murdered by the groom on their honeymoon. The distraught father of the bride holds Brooke and Becca accountable. He manages to kidnap them and produce his own internet show based on the format of their program. Brooke and Becca are run through the scenarios they put their couples through. They must use these brief moments to prove their innocence or be killed in the last episode.

 

Excerpt:

“Just so you all know, with the good press we’re getting and the increase in applications, I’m contemplating pushing the network to give us either Sunday night or Thursday night, too.”

“Are you serious?” Brooke said.

Becca looked up. “It’s either that or two hours on Tuesdays. We need to make hay here. With our numbers the way they are, sponsor rates are at a premium. That gives us leverage for a mid-season renegotiation. I say we go for it.”

“Hell, yeah,” Amantha said and others at the table chuckled.

The door opened, and a young girl walked in and rushed over to whisper to Amantha. Brooke had seen her before but didn’t know her name. She just knew she was Amantha’s casting associate.

Amantha listened and turned to Becca. “So, apparently we have a woman who’s not comfortable with any of the ten individuals we’ve supplied her with. She’s in tears and is begging RuLanne for a few more applications.”

Becca shook her head. “No way. That’s part of it. You may get lucky, or you may not. Tell her that we’re sorry it didn’t work out for her and send her on her way.”

“Hold on,” Brooke said. “Becca, can’t we give her another five or so? We’re supposed to be helping people find love.”

“No, we can’t,” Becca leaned forward. “And don’t think for a minute that it’s our job to help people find love. We’re here to put on a show. If suddenly we start giving extra applications for people to go over until they find someone, they’ll never make a decision, and we’ll never have a show.”

“Oh,” George said. “You mean that show we have about helping people find love?”

Becca glared at him and then turned to RuLanne. “Do this. Go tell her we’re sorry we can’t give her more applications to go through. But promise her ten seconds on the next broadcast so she can tell all her family and friends. Then get her name to the editors and tell them I said to put her in, or I’ll have their ass. Clear?”

RuLanne nodded and rushed back out.

As soon as the door closed Becca slammed her hands on the table and stood. “The name of this show is not called ‘Finding Love.’ It’s called I Do or I Don’t and don’t think for a minute that anybody watching this show is hoping for the former. There’s a huge segment that is hoping to see someone say, ‘I don’t,’ because watching a train wreck is a shitload more entertaining than watching someone else’s happiness.” She pointed at George, glaring. “And, George Crone, if you argue with me one more time in front of the crew, your ass will hit the pavement so fast you won’t know what happened. And you can just keep on bouncing because you aren’t getting back in. Got it?”

George closed his laptop quietly and rested his hands on top of it. “Got it.”

The door burst open, and Alanna Gates, Fiona’s little sister and Becca’s personal assistant rushed in. “Miss Dodge,”

“What?” Becca shouted, impatiently.

“Ehhh...” Alanna paused briefly at the harshness of her boss’s tone. “I think you all should come see this right away.”

“See what?” Becca asked. “We need to finish this meeting.”

“Kristine Haddock, the bride from the show the other night.” Alanna looked around the room.

“She’s dead.”

 

About Rob Edwards:

The majority of Rob Edwards working life has been in the video and film production world, giving him ample experience with storytelling and the creative process. He has written throughout his career and has won national and international awards for his work.

He is now transforming his efforts to the page, rather than the screen.

Rob lives in the mid-Michigan area with his bride. Together they enjoy traveling, foodie adventures, wine tasting, reading, and generally being outdoors.

He currently works as a Media Development Specialist and teaches video post-production.

​Rob loves hearing from readers, so please feel free to contact him.

WebsiteTwitter | Facebook | Instagram | Goodreads | Amazon | BookBub

 

Giveaway Details:

1 winner will win a $10 Amazon GC, International.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Sunday 17 April 2022

Murder, Sweet Murder by Eleanor Kuhns

Murder, Sweet Murder by Eleanor Kuhns Banner

Murder, Sweet Murder

by Eleanor Kuhns

April 11 - May 6, 2022 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

Murder, Sweet Murder by Eleanor Kuhns

Will Rees accompanies his wife to Boston to help clear her estranged father's name in this gripping mystery set in the early nineteenth century.

January, 1801. When Lydia's estranged father is accused of murder, Will Rees escorts her to Boston to uncover the truth. Marcus Farrell is believed to have murdered one of his workers, a boy from Jamaica where he owns a plantation. Marcus swears he's innocent. However, a scandal has been aroused by his refusal to answer questions and accusations he bribed officials.

As Will and Lydia investigate, Marcus's brother, Julian, is shot and killed. This time, all fingers point towards James Farrell, Lydia's brother. Is someone targeting the family? Were the family quarreling over the family businesses and someone lashed out? What's Marcus hiding and why won't he accept help?

With the Farrell family falling apart and their reputation in tatters, Will and Lydia must solve the murders soon. But will they succeed before the murderer strikes again?

Book Details:

Genre: Historical Mystery
Published by: Severn House Publishers
Publication Date: February 1st 2022
Number of Pages: 224
ISBN: 0727850091 (ISBN13: 9780727850096)
Series: Will Rees Mysteries #11
Purchase Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

After regarding Rees for several seconds, Mr Farrell extended his hand. Rees grasped it, painfully conscious of his rough hand, calloused by both farm work and weaving. ‘Please attend me in my office,’ Mr Farrell said. ‘We are expecting a few guests for dinner tonight so we will have little time to talk then.’ Turning, he strode away. Rees started to follow but, realizing that Lydia was not by his side, he turned back. She stood hesitantly by the table, her hands tightly clenched together. Rees glared at Mr Farrell’s back and then, reaching out, he pulled one of her hands through his elbow. Together they followed her father into his office.

As Farrell moved a stack of papers from the center of the desk to one side, Rees looked around. A large globe on a stand stood to the right of Farrell’s desk and one chair had been drawn up to the front. A seating area, with additional chairs, were arranged by the window that looked out upon the front garden. A table in the center held an intricately carved tray with a crystal decanter and several glasses. Shelves of books lined the wall behind and adjacent to the desk, on Rees’s right.

The room was chilly although the fire was burning. Newly laid, it had been lighted, no doubt by some anonymous servant.

Farrell looked up and his eyes rested on Lydia in surprise. Rees felt his wife shrink back, intimidated. He was not going to stand for that. He pulled a chair from the window grouping and placed it in front of the desk. She hesitated for a few seconds and then, lifting her chin defiantly, she sat down. Once she was seated, Rees lowered himself into the opposite chair. After one final dismissive glance at his daughter, Farrell looked at Rees.

‘So, you are a weaver.’

‘That is so,’ Rees said, adding politely, ‘I understand you are a merchant.’

Farrell smiled. ‘I see your wife has told you very little about me or my profession.’ Since responding in the affirmative seemed somehow disloyal to Lydia, Rees said nothing.

Farrell took a box from his desk drawer and opened it to extract a cigar. ‘Would you like a smoke?’

‘No thank you,’ Rees said.

‘Or a glass of rum? Or whiskey if that is your tipple.’ When Rees declined again, Farrell put away the cigars and walked to the fireplace to light a splint. The end of the cigar glowed red and the acrid scent of burning tobacco filled the room. Puffing, Farrell returned to his seat. ‘I suppose one could say I was a merchant. But I do so much more. I own a plantation as well as a fleet of ships that sail between Boston, the West Indies and Africa. In Jamaica they take on sugar and molasses which are returned to Boston. Some of it is transformed into rum in my distillery. I export the liquor overseas, both to England and to Africa where the proceeds are used to purchase slaves.’

Sick to his stomach, Rees glanced at Lydia. She was staring at her hands, her face flaming with shame. Although she had alluded to her father’s profession, she had not told him the half of it. She had not told him of her father’s pride in it. Rees understood why she hadn’t.

‘Most of the slaves are brought to the sugar plantation,’ Farrell continued, seemingly oblivious to his daughter’s distress, ‘but some are sold in the Southern states. And you needn’t look so shocked. Why that upstart Republican with his radical ideas, Mr Jefferson, owns slaves. And he may be the next President. I suppose you voted for him.’

Rees did not respond immediately. Although many of Mr Jefferson’s ideas were appealing, Rees had found in the end that he could not vote for a slave holder. Instead, he had voted for Mr Adams. But that gentleman had not placed; the election was a tie between Thomas Jefferson and Aaron Burr. Sent to the House for resolution, Jefferson had won by one vote.’ No,’ Rees said carefully, keeping his voice level with an effort, ‘I voted for his opponent.’

‘Well, that makes us kin then. Although you will meet a few slaves here in Boston, in this very house.’ He grinned and Rees thought of Morris and Bridget with their tinted skin. ‘But few, very few. Neither the Africans nor the Spanish Indians adapt well to this northern climate and they quickly die.’ This was said with indifference as though he spoke of a broken chair.

Farrell flicked a glance at his daughter and smiled. With a surge of anger, Rees realized that Farrell fully understood the effect his speech would have on her and was enjoying her misery. Rees gathered himself to rise from his chair. Lydia reached out and grasped his sleeve.

‘This is for Cordy,’ she whispered. Rees sat down again, his body stiff.

‘But you did not come to listen to me natter on about my profession,’ Farrell said, watching the byplay with interest. ‘Shall we discuss that ridiculous murder, the one of which I am accused?’

Rees looked into Lydia’s beseeching eyes and after a few seconds he relaxed into his seat. God forgive him, a part of him hoped Marcus Farrell was guilty.

‘Go on,’ Rees said coldly. Marcus smiled.

‘Permit me to save you both time and effort,’ he said. ‘I did not kill that boy.’

‘Then why do people think you did?’ Rees asked. Puffing furiously, and clearly unwilling to reply, Farrell took a turn around the room.

‘Did you know him?’ Lydia asked, her voice low and clear. ‘This Roark?’

Farrell stood up so abruptly his chair almost tipped over. ‘Yes, I knew him.’ He glanced at Rees. ‘We were seen, Roark and I, arguing down at Long Wharf.’

‘Arguing about what?’ Rees asked.

‘It is not important. He was a nobody.’ Farrell glared at Rees, daring him to persist. Rees waited, never removing his gaze from the other man. Sometimes silence made the best hammer. Finally, Farrell said angrily, ‘He wanted a rise in his wages. I said no. He disagreed. That was all there was to it.’

Rees glanced at Lydia and found her staring at him. He knew, and he suspected she did too, that her father had just lied to them.

***

Excerpt from Murder, Sweet Murder by Eleanor Kuhns. Copyright 2021 by Eleanor Kuhns. Reproduced with permission from Eleanor Kuhns. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Eleanor Kuhns

Eleanor Kuhns is the 2011 winner of the Mystery Writers of America/Minotaur first mystery novel. Murder, Sweet Murder is the eleventh mystery following the adventures of Rees and his wife. She transitioned to full time writing last year after a successful career spent in library service. Eleanor lives in upstate New York with her husband and dog.

Catch Up With Eleanor Kuhns:
www.Eleanor-Kuhns.com
Goodreads
BookBub
Twitter - @EleanorKuhns
Facebook - @writerkuhns

We're also having an insta-party! Visit Instagram - #eleanorkuhns to join us!
 

 

Tour Participants:

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Join In and You Could WIN!

This is a giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Tours for Eleanor Kuhns. See the widget for entry terms and conditions. Void where prohibited.

 

 

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Wednesday 13 April 2022

Princess & Prejudice by Alisha Kay


It is a funny, passionate, second chance Indian romance by the winner of the Amazon KDP Pen to Publish Contest 2020.


A not-so-fairy-tale romance!

They say opposites attract, but when Yuvarajkumari Jayshree Singh, Princess of Devgarh, and Dr Aryan Sharma meet, it’s more like opposites combust.
He thinks she is a bratty and entitled princess, while she thinks he is an uptight pain-in-the-ass, who needs to have the stick surgically removed from his rather delectable posterior.
When Aryan’s sister gets engaged to Jessie’s brother, they are forced to declare a reluctant ceasefire.
But the hostilities don't cease. Instead, they erupt in an unexpected and unlikely gush of desire and longing.
With their families set to merge, Aryan and Jessie need to decide if his prejudice and her pride can be set aside long enough for the love they feel to blossom. Or will they spend eternity wondering if they'd missed their chance at happiness?

Book Links:
Goodreads * Amazon.in * Amazon.com


Read an excerpt from Princess & Prejudice


Ma had planned an intimate dinner with the team, but I convinced her to expand her guest list considerably, and move the event from the dining room to the ballroom. With thirty other people around us, I could stay away from the golden couple of Devgarh General Hospital. Or so I thought.
Arshia kept seeking me out as if I was her new best friend, and Aryan kept staring at us nervously as if he was worried about what I might do to his precious, until he was called out for an emergency just before dinner was served. 
I was on my best behaviour, and even when she called me ‘sweetie’ and ‘darling’, I just smiled through gritted teeth and refrained from stabbing her with my fork.
I finally made my escape when she got cornered by one of the richest patrons of the Foundation and found an empty table close to a French window that led onto the courtyard. I was supposed to be on a low-cal diet, but Arshia’s jabs about how I looked so nice with a few extra pounds on me drove me to the buffet, where I piled my plate high with chicken chilly and noodles.
I had a pounding headache and when I settled down to eat, I found that I couldn’t eat anything. I was staring at my plate glumly, when Zombie sidled up to me, looking at my plate hopefully. He was on a diet, too, but I couldn’t bear to deny him when he gave me those starving puppy eyes.
I tossed him a piece of chicken and wondered if I should just tip the plate over the side of the table. Just then, Arshia came over and plonked her ass down on the chair next to mine.
“Finally,” she groaned, taking off her spike heels and rubbing her feet.
I smiled politely and picked up my phone.
Any idiot could have taken the hint, but Arshia was clearly on a mission to make me miserable.
“I don’t know why I torture myself with these horrible heels,” she whined, looking pointedly at my flat juttis.
I merely smiled and went back to reading my messages.
“Oh wait! I know why. It’s because Aryan loves how they make my legs look,” she giggled.
The smile froze on my face. Please God, no! I didn’t want to listen to this. But it looked as if I had no choice. Arshia was watching me like a hawk to see my reaction, and I refused to show her how much it hurt to hear these intimate details of their relationship.
“Great,” I said, with a polite smile.
“I guess I can tell you our secret because you’re close to his sister.”
She took a deep breath and made a show of looking around to see if anyone else was listening, and then leaned forward.
“We’re taking it to the next step,” she whispered.
My heart clenched, and I swallowed nervously. Surely she didn’t mean…
“His mother has invited my parents over for dinner this weekend. And they are planning to fix the date. For our wedding,” she said, faux-coyly.
A cold sweat broke out all over my body at the thought of Aryan marrying someone. Someone other than me, that is. But I had known that this day would arrive at some point. And there was no chance in hell of him ever marrying me. So I didn’t know why I was so miserable. I just was. Arshia stared at me calculatingly, and I tried to summon a polite smile.
Just then, Zombie moved away from me, and the table cloth in front of Arshia rose as he poked his head out from under the table to stare at her. She took one horrified look at his big teeth and yellow eyes and shrieked as if she had seen the devil. And then, she ran. Zombie gave chase and I ran after them to pull him back. And Aryan returned just in time to see his girlfriend go flying into the fountain.
The rest was history.


About the Author:
Alisha Kay writes funny, exciting and steamy stories, with spunky heroines who can rescue themselves, and hot, woke heroes who find such independence irresistible.
The first book in The Devgarh Royals series, The Maharaja’s Fake Fiancée, won the grand prize at the Amazon KDP Pen to Publish Contest 2020.


Alisha on the Web:
Instagram * Twitter 

 

Monday 11 April 2022

The Prince by Antony Soehner

I am so excited that THE PRINCE by Antony Soehner is available now and that I get to share the news!

If you haven’t yet heard about this wonderful book, be sure to check out all the details below.

This blitz also includes a giveaway for a finished copy of the book & a $10 Amazon GC courtesy of Antony & Rockstar Book Tours. So if you’d like a chance to win, check out the giveaway info below.

 

About The Book:

Title: THE PRINCE (Prince Theo Saga Book 1)

Author: Antony Soehner

Pub. Date: April 12, 2022

Publisher: Roll15 Publishing LLC

Formats: Paperback, eBook

Pages: 226

Find it: GoodreadsAmazon, Kindle, B&NiBooks, KoboTBD, Bookshop.org

Destiny will always test the greatest of leaders.

"Theo never imagined life outside the king's castle. But when the queen's funeral reveals the king's true colors, Theo must rely on his sister, her allies, and his friends to get him to safety. With the help of mercenaries and the native tribes of the plains, Theo must learn to face his destiny and open his mind to the diverse world he's been thrown into."

The Prince is a High-Fantasy Adventure and the first book in the Prince Theo Saga by Antony Soehner. A multi-layered story about a young prince who discovers the diverse, fantastic world around him as he escapes his abusive tyrant father, King George. Finding himself in the care of a native tribe thought to be the enemy, Theo begins his long journey of growing and healing from the traumas he faced back home.

Content Warnings: Abuse(Physical, Mental), Fantasy Violence

 

Excerpt:

Chapter 17 “Man in the Mask”-

The prince started to crawl to his feet but something grabbed him by the ankle. He fought and struggled against the binding but it overpowered him. Theo was dragged through the dirt and left at the feet of the wandering third figure.

Panicking, Theo slashed with the saber still in his hand. The being shot their hand out and caught the silvery blade in their palm.

A flame roared nearby, illuminating the figure. Theo saw a man with ash-grey skin and long white hair beneath a dark cloak. He wore a black mask that covered the top half of his face revealing only his eyes and mouth.

The man knelt down next to Theo and reached into the breast of his cloak. He slowly produced a thin, smooth, black wand and pressed one end forcefully underneath the prince’s chin.

“Here’s the deal, Your Highness,” the man’s icy, emotionless words sent goosebumps down Theo’s back, “you’re going to come with me. I will bring you back to your father and we will act like none of this ever happened.” He twisted the end of the wand with the tips of his fingers and it pinched the skin on Theo’s chin. “If—” the man emphasized, “you give me any difficulty, I will paralyze you with a bolt of lightning through your brain, leaving you barely alive.” He pressed the wand further into the prince’s jaw.

The man looked away from Theo and over to the three slowly moving bodies trying to get back up. An evil grin crawled beneath his mask and he carefully pulled the wand off Theo’s chin. Pinching it between his thumb and first two fingers, he pointed it at Ta’goda.

“I’m going to let you ponder my instructions,” the man said greasily, dropping the saber’s blade.

“I have more orders to fulfill.”

With a flick of his wrist, a bolt of white lightning exploded from the end of the wand and struck Ta’goda’s shoulder.

It sent the chief, a towering orc of muscle, flying through the burnt husks of homes he once protected.

“I hope you don’t mind, Your Highness,” the man jabbed, “it’s just business.”

 

 

About Antony Soehner:


Raised on a healthy diet of geek and pop culture, I have come to share my love and appreciation for role-playing games, geek culture, and fantasy adventure. If it's random comic book fact, Star Wars trivia, or just the measly obscure movie reference, I'm there!

antonysoehner.com

 

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Instagram | TikTok | Goodreads | Amazon | BookBub

 


Giveaway Details:

1 winner will receive an eBook of THE PRINCE & a $10 Amazon GC, International.


a Rafflecopter giveaway