$40 GC & Review – I Know She Was There by Jennifer Sadera @partnersincr1me @jennifersadera

Posted on November 4, 2024 by fundinmental

I KNOW SHE WAS THERE

by Jennifer Sadera

October 28 – November 22, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

MY REVIEW

Caroline Chase walks the streets with her colicky baby, poking her nose where it doesn’t belong. If you don’t want her looking in your windows, then close your blinds. I had a hunch about something and I was correct, but there was so much more going on than I ever guessed.

Jennifer Sadera has a hit with her debut novel, I Know She Was There. She weaves a complex mystery around an even more complex main character, Caroline Chase.

Her husband, Tim…well, he turned out to be worse than I anticipated.

I Know She Was There by Jennifer Sadera has everything I love in a psychological thriller. We have some bad guys, some good guys, and a damsel in distress. Jennifer kept the suspense rising as the pace picked up. I couldn’t stop reading. I had to know. By the time I got to the end I never saw coming, I breathed a sigh of relief.

Animated Animals. Pictures, Images and Photos — 4 Stars

Synopsis:

Be careful what you see when you shouldn’t be looking.

Residents of the posh Upstate New York neighborhood of Deer Crossing enjoy all the amenities wealth provides. From drive-up dog-grooming to monthly botox parties, these lucky suburbanites have everything they could ever want. And one thing they don’t. Stalker Caroline Case, who wheels her infant along their streets each night with just one goal…to spy on anyone too careless or too foolish to close their window blinds.

Convinced the owners of the impressive homes are living a dream existence, the troubled new mom hopes to escape her working-class life by prying secrets from the unsuspecting. But the fairy tale twists into a nightmare when she sees something she shouldn’t. Something that shatters her illusions about the people in the privileged community she’s obsessed with, even as she begins to doubt what she saw.

As Caroline investigates the event, shocking secrets are laid bare, and nothing is as it seems. She knows she must prove something sinister occurred in Deer Crossing or risk letting someone get away with murder.

Praise for I Know She Was There:

“‘Twisty’ doesn’t begin to describe this compelling and complicated story. Don’t even try to guess how this turns out—just put yourself in Sadera’s capable hands and enjoy the ride!”
~ Karen Dionne, author of the #1 international bestseller The Marsh King’s Daughter and The Wicked Sister

“In the world of thrillers, few conceits are more alluring than a ‘mostly harmless’ habit gone terribly awry. Such is the premise in Jennifer Sadera’s addictive I Know She Was There, where protagonist Caroline Case’s proclivity for sidewalk-spying on her wealthy neighbors turns into her own living nightmare. Sadera’s deeply psychological novel, echoing nicely to Rear Window, has Caroline guessing not only what she saw, but whether she saw it at all, and her struggle becomes ours through effective first-person narration. An impressive and thrilling debut . . . Sadera is an author to watch.”
~ Carter Wilson, USA Today bestselling author of The Father She Went to Find

“Jennifer Sadera’s intense debut about a troubled young mother on a passionate mission to discover the truth kept me awake all night! It’s a gut-wrenching and addictively readable thriller.”
~ Bonnar Spring, author of Toward the Light (2020), Independent Publishers’ bronze medal winner for Best First Novel, New Hampshire Literary Awards—People’s Choice winner for fiction, and Disappeared (2022) ‘Best of 2022’ from Bookreporter and Crime Fiction Lover short fiction: 2023 Al Blanchard Award, 2024 Derringer

“Twisty and compelling, I Know She Was There deftly explores how well we can truly know each other—or ourselves.”
~ Tracy Sierra, author of Nightwatching

“A knockout debut—sharp domestic suspense that combines taut prose with a complex, artfully crafted unreliable narrator, and plenty of twists and turns that readers won’t see coming. I Know She Was There proves Jennifer Sadera is a voice to watch.”
~ Elena Hartwell Taylor, bestselling author of the Eddie Shoes and Sheriff Bet Rivers Mystery series, including the upcoming A Cold, Cold World

Book Details:

Genre: Psychological Suspense, Domestic Suspense
Published by: CamCat Books
Publication Date: November 12, 2024
Number of Pages: 352
ISBN: 9780744310955 (ISBN10: 0744310954)
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | CamCat Books

Read an excerpt:

Jane Brockton was going to get caught.

My heart raced when Jane emerged from the side door of her home; what she and I were both doing was risky, but it was too late for regrets. I wondered if she thought so too. Probably. Her behavior was becoming alarmingly brazen. I pulled Emmy’s stroller closer and pushed aside boxwood branches, widening the portal I peered through. Although Jane’s across-the-street neighbors’ hedge was directly in front of her farmhouse-style McMansion, it was too dark this late at night for me to be seen.

Go back inside if you know what’s good for you. I pressed my fingers to my lips as the man emerged from the house next to hers. Even if I’d yelled a warning, Jane Brockton wouldn’t heed it. Who the hell was I? Certainly not someone her neighbors on Woodmint Lane knew. If Jane observed my late-night excursions through the streets of her stylish suburban New York neighborhood, her first instinct wouldn’t be to worry about her behavior.

I was prepared. If confronted by any resident of the exclusive enclave, I’d explain I walked the streets late at night to lull my colicky baby to sleep. I couldn’t admit my ulterior motive—worming my way back onto Primrose Way and into my former best friend’s good graces. And there was no need to share how, lately, the lives of this neighborhood’s inhabitants had been luring me like a potent drug—or how Jane Brockton was fast becoming the kingpin of my needy addiction. Jane stood out, even in this community of excess: gourmet dinner deliveries, drive-up dog grooming, same-day laundry service, and monthly Botox parties.

Her meetings with the mystery man were far from innocent. The first tryst I’d witnessed was late the previous Friday night—exactly a week earlier. I’d strolled around the corner of Woodmint Lane just as the pair had emerged from their side-by-side houses and taken to the dark street like prowlers casing the block. I followed their skulking forms up Woodmint, being careful to stay a few dozen yards behind, until all I could discern was their silhouettes, too close to each other for friendly companionship. They’d eventually crossed Primrose Way and veered into the woods where the bike trails and picnic areas offered secluded spaces. When they didn’t emerge from the wooded area, I backed Emmy’s stroller up silently and reversed my route, heading away, my pulse still throbbing in my temples.

It was impossible to deny what was going on, as I watched similar scenes unfold three nights that week: Jane slipping soundlessly from her mudroom door like a specter, the flash of the screen door in the faint moonlight an apparent signal.

This night, as they hooked hands in the driveway between the houses, I slicked my tongue over my dry lips. She risked losing everything. I knew how that felt. Tim had left me before I’d even changed out his worn bachelor-pad sofa for the sectional I’d been eying at Ethan Allen. I watched them cross through the shadows, barely able to see them step inside the shed at the far end of Jane’s yard. And all under the nose of her poor devoted husband, Rod. He couldn’t be as gullible as he appeared, could he?

A voice called out, shattering the stillness of the night. I flinched, convinced I’d been discovered. I scanned the immediate shadows, placing a hand over my chest to still my galloping heart.

“Jane?” It was Rod’s voice. I recognized the timbre by now. Settle down, Caroline.

My eyes darted to the custom home’s open front door. Rod had noticed his wife’s abandonment earlier than usual. Warm interior light spilled across the porch floorboards and outlined Rod’s robed form in the door frame.

“Are you out here? Jane?”

The worry in his voice made me hate Jane Brockton. I flirted with the idea of stepping away from the hedge and announcing I’d witnessed her heading to the shed with the neighbor. Of course, that would be ridiculous. I was a stranger. My name, Caroline Case, would mean nothing to him.

Rod closed the door and my gaze traveled to the glowing upstairs window on the far left of his house. The light had blinked off half an hour earlier, like a giant eyelid closing over the dormered master bedroom casement. I knew exactly where their bedroom was because I’d studied the Deer Crossing home models on the builder’s website. I knew the layout of all three house styles so well I could escort potential buyers through them. I’d briefly considered it. Becoming a real-estate agent would give me access inside, where I could discover what life behind the movie-set facades was really like. Pristine marble floors, granite countertops, and crystal vases on every conceivable surface? Or gravy-laden dishes in sinks and mud-caked shoes arrayed haphazardly just inside the eye-catching front doors?

I suspected the latter was true for almost every house except for my former best friend Muzzy Owen’s place on Primrose Way. Muzzy could put Martha Stewart to shame.

I wedged myself and Emmy’s stroller further into the hedge. Becoming a real-estate agent wouldn’t connect me as intimately to Jane and Rod Brockton (information gleaned by rifling through the contents of their mailbox) as I was at this moment. Trepidation—and yes, anticipation—laced my bloodstream and turned my breathing shallow as I waited for Rod to come outside and start his nightly search for his wife. Some may consider my interest, my excitement, twisted, but I didn’t plan to use my stealthily gathered information against anyone. It was enough to reassure myself that nobody’s life was perfect, no matter how it appeared to an outsider.

A faint click echoed through the still night. I squinted through the hedge leaves, my eyes laser pointers on the side door Jane had emerged from only moments before. Rod appeared.

As he stepped into the dusky side yard, I thought about the people unknown to me until a week earlier: the latest neighborhood couple to pique my interest. Even though they were technically still strangers, I’d had an entire week to learn about the Brocktons. A few passes in my car last Saturday morning revealed a tracksuit-clad Gen Xer, her wavy hair the reddish-brown color of autumn oak leaves, and a gray-haired, bespectacled boomer in crisp dark jeans and golf shirt standing on the sage-and-cream farmhouse’s front porch. Steaming mugs in hand, their calls drifted through my open car window, cautioning their little golden designer dog when it strayed too close to the street, their voices overly indulgent, as if correcting a beloved but errant child. The very picture of domestic bliss.

I studied the Colonial to the Brocktons’ right. On the front porch steps, two tremendous Boston ferns in oversized urns stretched outward like dozens of welcoming arms. The only testament to human activity. Someone obviously cared for the vigorous plants, but a midnight peek inside that house’s mailbox revealed only empty space. It made me uncomfortable not knowing who Jane’s mystery man was.

And did Rod usually wake when his wife slipped between the silk sheets (they had to be silk) after her extracurriculars? He obviously questioned her increasingly regular late-night abandonment. He wouldn’t be roaming the dark in his nightwear if he hadn’t noticed.

Perhaps Jane said she couldn’t sleep. She needed to move—walk the neighborhood—to tire herself. Hearing that, he’d frown, warning her not to wander around in the middle of the night. Rod was the type—I was sure just by the way he coddled his dog—to worry about his lovely wife walking the dark streets, even the magical byways of Deer Crossing. Hence, the need for new places to rendezvous each night. But the shed on their very own property! Even though this night’s tryst was later than usual, it was dangerously daring to stay on-site. Maybe Jane wanted to get caught.

A scratching sound echoed through the quiet night. I looked at the side door Rod had just emerged from, saw his silhouette turn back and open it. The little dog circled him, barking sharply. The urgent yipping cut clearly through the still air, skittering my pulse. I quickly glanced at Emmy soundly sleeping in her stroller. If the dog didn’t stop barking, I’d have to get away—fast. Emmy could wake and start her colicky wailing, which would rouse the Brocktons’ neighbors whose hedge I’d appropriated. One flick of their front porch light would reveal me in all my lurking glory.

As if to answer my concerns, the dog ceased barking and scampered toward the shed. I rubbed at the sudden chill sliding across my upper arms. That little canine nose was sniffing out Jane’s trail.

Rod stepped tentatively forward. It was too dark to see what he was wearing beneath the robe, but I pictured him in L. L. Bean slippers with those heavy rubberized soles and cotton print pajamas, like Daddy used to wear. Daddy’s had line drawings of old-fashioned cars dotted across the white cotton background. Model Ts and roadsters. I felt angry with Jane all over again. How dare she . . .

“Sorry, darling,” Jane called, striding from the shadows, stopping a few feet in front of him. “I was potting those plants earlier and thought I left my cell phone in the shed.” Her voice was soft, relaxed. She was a pro.

“I saw it on the bookshelf in the study earlier this evening,” Rod said, bending to calm the little dog, who was bouncing between them like a child with ADHD.

“Oh geez, I’m losing it,” she said, laughing.

Not yet, you’re not, I thought. Not yet.

***

Author Bio:

Jennifer Sadera began her writing career just out of college as a junior copywriter at book publisher NAL before transitioning to the editorial departments of national women’s magazines Woman’s World, Redbook, and Beauty Digest. She’d already established herself as a freelance writer and blogger when she decided to follow her true passion: creating novels. She is an active member of International Thriller Writers, Mystery Writers of America, and Sisters in Crime; her writing has earned her multiple awards at Atlanta Writers Conferences and a fellowship at the Martha’s Vineyard Institute of Creative Writing. I Know She Was There is Jennifer’s debut psychological suspense novel. When not writing, Jennifer can be found gardening, traveling, or reading anything she can get her hands on. She is blessed with CJ, her husband of many years, two adult children, Amanda and Ryan, and two adorable rescue grand dogs named Sunny and Moonie.

Catch Up With Jennifer Sadera:
JenniferSadera.com
Goodreads
LinkedIn
Instagram – @jensadera
Twitter/X – @jennifersadera
Facebook – @jennifersadera

Tour Participants:

Visit these other great hosts on this tour for more great reviews, interviews, guest posts, and opportunities to WIN in the giveaway!

Click here to view the Tour Schedule

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

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Giveaway – Burnt Ends by Laura Wetsel @partnersincr1me @LauraWetsel

Posted on October 10, 2024 by fundinmental

BURNT ENDS

by Laura Wetsel

September 23 – October 18, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

Murder is juicier with a side of barbecue sauce.

Private Investigator Tori Swenson gets a strange accidental death case that looks like murder at one of her uncle’s drive-ins and decides it’s time to get revenge on her estranged family. Pretending to want a reunion, she appears at her uncle’s party to secretly investigate them. When her uncle suddenly dies, Tori’s case takes a sinister turn that makes her a suspect in her uncle’s death and the killer’s next target. To uncover who dethroned the barbecue king, Tori will have to face her own fiery demons while pursuing a killer who wants to make dead meat out of her.

For fans of Knives Out and the Stephanie Plum series by Janet Evanovich.

Praise for Burnt Ends:

“Quirky and entertaining, this book and its unforgettable characters, tight plotting, and clever twists make for a reading experience as suspenseful as it is satisfying. A toothsome treat of a book by a debut mystery writer.”
~ Kirkus Reviews

“Fire up the grill! Laura Wetsel serves up a delicious debut of grills, thrills, and chills.”
~ Riley Adams, author of the Memphis Barbeque Series

“Jessica Jones meets Succession with a side of coleslaw, this is the kind of book you want to sink your teeth into and not let go. Laura Wetsel bursts onto the scene with a mouthwatering mystery that will have readers begging for more.”
~ Moriah Richard, Writer’s Digest

“Charred and bloody to perfection, Laura Wetsel’s Burnt Ends is smoking hot!”
~ Jamie Stachowski, Meat America

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery (private investigator)
Published by: CamCat Books
Publication Date: September 24, 2024
Number of Pages: 320
ISBN: 9780744311211 (ISBN10: 0744311217)
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | CamCat Books

Read an excerpt:

Chapter One

There it was—smoking meat, the sweet stench of my childhood. Hickory, molasses, tomato, brown sugar. Kansas City’s love letter to everyone but me.

Darnell, my best friend from our early rehab days, drove us into the parking lot of Rocky’s BBQ Smokehouse, and I gagged on the meat-thickened air. Don’t toss your waffles, Tori. The giant statue of Rocky the Pig— “Rocky the Cannibal”—smiled down at me in his chef hat and apron, holding a platter of ribs like he was trying to turn my stomach.

Darnell parked his truck with a displeased grunt. “Seriously, Tor,” he said, wiping the sweat from his bald head. “I said I’d help you move, not run a stakeout in a hundred degrees.”

“Don’t worry.” I took a gulp of Topo Chico to help settle my queasy gut. “My target should be here soon. Then you can help me move into my aunt’s place.” I twisted the zoom lens onto my digital camera and aimed it at a family tottering out of the restaurant with sauce-splattered shirts.

“Fine, then I’m running in for some brisket,” Darnell said. “At least, assuming they’ve got any with the meat drought they’ve been—”

“Hold up,” I cut him off and nodded at a green sedan rolling into the lot. “That’s her.” I pointed my lens at the driver’s door, getting ready to fire away. When a woman stepped out with crutches, I groaned.

“Guess she wasn’t lying.” Darnell shifted the car out of park. “The brisket will have to—”

“Wait.”

Darnell hit the brakes, jerking us forward. “Now what?”

“I want to see if she uses them inside. It would be hard in a buffet line.”

“You’re kidding, right?” He raised his brows at me. “If you go in there with that huge camera, there’s no way she’s ditching her crutches.”

“That wasn’t what I was thinking. I only knew to come here because my target’s sister posted this online.” I pulled out my phone to show Darnell the selfie post of Sasha Wolf with the caption, Waiting for @GinnyWolf. #RockysBBQ #SisterLove.

“Okay,” Darnell said. “Am I supposed to be seeing something here?”

I tapped on Sasha’s photo, zooming in on her sunlit head. “See that sunlight shining on her ponytail?”

“Yeah, and?”

“She’s under an atrium, which means I’d have a great shot from the roof.”

“The roof? You’re not seriously thinking of climbing Rocky’s, are you?”

“Why not?” I said, tying my blonde curls into a fist of a ponytail. “You’ve seen me scale walls and trees before. I’m a nimble little freak.”

“I meant about trespassing.” Darnell pointed to his police badge like he might arrest me.

“You know us private eyes don’t have to follow your rules.” I gave him a reassuring smile. “Just have a smoke, and I’ll be back before you’ve even put your butt out.”

“One cig, Tor,” Darnell warned, tapping a pack of Marlboro Lights on the face of his watch. “Otherwise, have fun moving by yourself.”

For a recovering addict, Darnell was a horrible liar. I knew he’d never abandon me, not for anything. Hanging my camera around my neck, I hopped out of the truck into the afternoon sun, where I already felt like I was sucking meat-flavored steam through a cocktail straw. I’d just have to deal with the nausea. I hustled toward the black and orange pavilion, noting its unclimbable plastic siding and security cameras mounted at the entrance. Maybe I’d have better luck in the back.

I circled around and found luck in the form of a supply truck parked right beside the restaurant. No driver, no cameras, no people. This was my way to the roof.

I hoisted myself onto the hood and made my way up the windshield to the top of the truck. The gap between the truck and building was only two feet, so I made the easy jump. Soon as I hit the roof though, my phone started buzzing in my pocket. This wasn’t an ideal time to take calls, so I let it ring out while I got on my hands and knees to crawl toward the atrium.

When I got to the glass, I peered down below at a buffet hall where six dozen carnivores were dressed for the upcoming Fourth of July weekend and savagely stuffing their smeared, sticky faces with brisket, thighs, and ribs. My stomach surged at this familiar scene. I’d been avoiding the barbecue world for nearly fifteen years, and now that I was looking down on it like some floating deity, I remembered why I’d stayed away. Barbecue didn’t just upset my stomach. From my head to my chest to my teeth, it made me mad everywhere. But I didn’t want to think about why. Not after what I’d done last night.

As I searched the crowd of meat-eaters, I found Ginny, my target, at a table with her sister, her crutches against the wall. I raised my camera to my eye and focused on Ginny’s face. She was teasing Sasha, lifting her brows and puckering her lips, and as she stuck out her tongue, a memory flashed in my head—I was a fourteen-year-old again in an inflatable pool of barbecue sauce with my cousin Annie. My hands shook, releasing the camera, but I jolted my neck back before the camera hit the roof.

That memory was another reminder why I avoided meat, but it made sense why the past was on my mind when Annie was the reason I was on this stakeout. She’d filed her case to investigate Ms. Wolf with my agency yesterday afternoon.

I had no idea though who this Ginny Wolf was to Annie as I placed the burning hot camera back on my face and snapped pictures of Ginny, her crutches, her gold pendant and butterfly tattoo, all material things identifying her.

When she stood up for the buffet, leaving her crutches behind, I videoed the fraudster walking free and easy without them. As I’d thought, another liar.

***

Author Bio:

Laura Wetsel holds bachelor’s degrees in Russian and English literature from the University of Wisconsin-Madison, and a master’s degree in Russian literature from Northwestern University. She lives in Washington, D.C., with her two cats, Sasha and Ginny Wolf.
While this story is fictional, Burnt Ends was inspired by Laura’s uncle, who ran a successful burger drive-in chain in Ohio, as well as her experience living in Kansas City, Missouri.

Catch Up With Laura Wetsel:
www.LauraWetselBooks.com
Goodreads
Twitter/X – @LauraWetsel

Tour Participants:

Visit these other great hosts on this tour for more great reviews, interviews, guest posts, and opportunities to WIN in the giveaway!

Click here to view the Tour Schedule

ENTER FOR A CHANCE TO WIN:

This is a giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Tours for Laura Wetsel & CamCat Books. See the widget for entry terms and conditions. Void where prohibited.

Can’t see the giveaway? Click Here!

Get More Great Reads at Partners In Crime Tours

You can see my Giveaways HERE.
You can see my Reviews HERE.
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Look on the right sidebar and let’ talk.
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Giveaway – The Summer Of Love And Death by Marcy McCreary @partnersincr1me

Posted on August 29, 2024 by fundinmental

THE SUMMER OF LOVE AND DEATH

by Marcy McCreary

August 19 – September 13, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

The Summer of Love and Death by Marcy McCreary

A Ford Family Mystery

The summer of ’69: memorable for some, murder for others.

Detective Susan Ford and her new partner, Detective Jack Tomelli, are called to a crime scene at the local summer stock theater where they find the director of Murder on the Orient Express gruesomely murdered—naked, face caked in makeup, pillow at his feet, wrists and ankles bound by rope. When Susan describes the murder to her dad, retired detective Will Ford, he recognizes the MO of a 1969 serial killer . . . a case he worked fifty years ago.

Will remembers a lot of things about that summer—the Woodstock Festival, the Apollo 11 moon landing, the Miracle Mets—yet he is fuzzy on the details of the decades-old case. But when Susan and Jack discover the old case files, his memories start trickling back. And with each old and new clue, Susan, Jack, and Will must narrow down the pool of suspects before the killer strikes again.

Praise for The Summer of Love and Death:

“An old case has repercussions on a new copycat killing in this excellent police procedural. With juicy twists, an engaging cast, and an intriguing case that’s impossible to predict, The Summer of Love and Death is everything I want in a mystery. An addictive and entertaining ride!”
~ Christina McDonald, USA Today bestselling author

“McCreary unspools a lot of threads in The Summer of Love and Death, then masterfully weaves them all together atop the Ford family’s compelling dynamic for an ending you won’t see coming. It’s a fun ride that kept me guessing the whole time!”
~ Tony Wirt, bestselling author of Just Stay Away

“A compelling mystery that unfolds in two skillfully woven parallel narratives. McCreary pairs a haunting meditation on intergenerational trauma with an evocative rendering of that famous Summer of Love to deliver a suspenseful and deeply satisfying read.”
~ Lori Robbins, author of Murder in Fourth Position

“In the summer of 1969, there was peace and love—but also a serial killer committing bizarre murders. When a copycat killing occurs at the local summer stock theatre, detective Susan Ford must call on her father’s memory of his 1969 investigation to help her solve the present-day murder. The Summer of Love and Death offers page-turning suspense of how the legacy of murder can continue, leaving more than death in its wake.”
~ Nina Wachsman, author of The Courtesan’s Secret

“A fiendishly smart modern who-dunnit with clever characters and a mystery that keeps you guessing . . .”
~ Elise Hart Kipness, author of Lights Out

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery (Detective)
Published by: CamCat Books
Publication Date: August 13, 2024
Number of Pages: 336
ISBN: 9780744310597 (ISBN10: 0744310598)
Series: A Ford Family Mystery, #3 | A Stand-Alone Series
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | CamCat Books

Read an excerpt:

You know that jittery, gut-roiling feeling you get when heading out on a blind date? That brew of nerves, anxiety, anticipation—plus a hint of dread. That pretty much summed up my morning. Today was the day, and standing at the front door, it finally hit me. I was no longer flying solo. A new partner was waiting for me down at the station.

My fingers twitchy, I fumbled with the zipper of my yellow slicker as I stood in front of the framed poster—an illustration of a white dove perched on a blue guitar neck, gripped by ivory fingers against a bright red background—touting three days of peace and music. Usually, I paid it no mind. But today it captured my attention. A signal, perhaps, that everything would turn out just fine, like it did exactly fifty years ago when four hundred thousand idealistic hippies descended upon this town. A projected disaster that ended up being a glorious experience. The legendary summer of love.

The Woodstock Music and Art Fair didn’t take place in Woodstock, New York. The residents of Woodstock were not keen on having the initially projected fifty thousand hippies traipsing through their town. The concert promoters eventually secured Max Yasgur’s dairy farm in Bethel, New York—fifty-eight miles from Woodstock and six miles from where I live now. I was four at the time. I have no memory of it. Mom said I was sicker than sick that weekend. Ear infection. Fever escalating to 104 degrees. She tried to take me to a doctor, but the roads were clogged with festival revelers, so she had to postpone my appointment until Tuesday. But by then, the worst of it was over.

Fifty years. Those teenagers were in their sixties and seventies now. The older ones in their eighties. How many of them were still idealistic? How many were still into peace, love, and understanding? How many “dropped out” and berated “the man,” only later to find themselves the beneficiaries of capitalism? Becoming “the man.”

I leaned over slightly as I reached for the doorknob. The door swung open unexpectedly, smacking me in the forehead. “Whoa.” I ran my fingertips along my hairline. No bump. For now.

“Sorry, babe.” Ray’s voice drew Moxie’s attention. Our thirteenyear-old lab mix moseyed into the foyer, tail in full swing. Moseying was really all Moxie could muster these days. “Didn’t realize you were standing there.”

Ray had left the house an hour earlier. I peered over his shoulder at the running Jeep. “Forget something?”

“Yeah. My wallet.” Ray stepped inside, dripping. Moxie stared up at him, waiting. He squatted and rubbed her ears. “Raining cats and dogs out there. No offense, Moxie.” He glanced up at the poster. “Just like fifty years ago.” He sighed.

Ray’s parents were married at the festival by a traveling minister. One-year-old Ray in tow (earning him bragging rights as one of the youngest people to attend Woodstock). Tomorrow would have been their fiftieth wedding anniversary. Their death, at the hand of a drunk driver twelve years ago, spawned a program called Better Mad Than Sad—a class baked into the local drivers-ed curriculum that Ray (and the drunk driver’s girlfriend, Marisa) created ten years ago. Parents would join their kids for a fifty-minute session in which they pledged to pick up their kids or their kid’s friends, no questions asked, no judgment passed.

Last month, Ray reached out to a few of his and his parents’ friends asking if they would be up for a “celebration of life” vigil at the Woodstock Festival site this evening. Nothing formal. Just twenty or so folks standing around, reminiscing and shooting the shit about his parents.

Ray shook the rain off his jacket. “Met your new partner this morning.”

“Yeah?”

“He’s very good-looking.” He smirked, then added, “Movie-star good looking.”

I leaned back and gave Ray the once-over. “I’m more into the rough-around-the-edges type.”

“So I got nothing to worry about?”

“Not as long as you treat me right.” I smiled coyly. I had been without an official partner for a little over a year, since July 2018. My ex-partner bought a small farm in Vermont. He told me not to take it personally, but he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. I still wondered if I contributed to his anxiety in some small way. Then I got shot in the thigh that August. So hiring a new partner was put on hold. Upon my return to active duty in October of 2018, I was assigned an under-the-radar cold case with my dad brought on as consulting partner. By the time the Trudy Solomon case was resolved, in December 2018, Chief Eldridge still hadn’t found a suitable replacement. Small-town policing isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. So for the better part of 2019, it was just me and my shadow. Dad and Ray assisted on the Madison Garcia case, but the chief made it clear that protocol called for two detectives working a case, and my partnerless days were numbered. Don’t get me wrong. It’s not like I didn’t want a partner. I did. I just wished I had a say in who it was.

***

Author Bio:

Marcy McCreary is the author of the Ford Family Mystery series. She graduated from George Washington University with a B.A. in American literature and political science and pursued a career in marketing and communications. She lives in Hull, MA with her husband, Lew.

Catch Up With Marcy McCreary:
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Facebook – @marcymccrearywrites

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Cover Reveal & $25 GC – I Know She Was There by Jennifer Sadera @partnersincr1me

Posted on August 13, 2024 by fundinmental

I KNOW SHE WAS THERE

by Jennifer Sadera

Cover Reveal

Synopsis:

Be careful what you see when you shouldn’t be looking.

Praise for I Know She Was There:

“Twisty and compelling, I Know She Was There deftly explores how well we can truly know each other—or ourselves.”
~ Tracy Sierra, author of Nightwatching

Book Details:

Genre: Psychological Suspense, Domestic Suspense
Published by: CamCat Books
Publication Date: November 12, 2024
Number of Pages: 352
ISBN: 9780744310955 (ISBN10: 0744310954)
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | CamCat Books

Author Bio:

Catch Up With Jennifer Sadera:
JenniferSadera.com
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Facebook – @jennifersadera

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Giveaway – Girl On Trial by Kathleen Fine @partnersincr1me @kathleenfine

Posted on November 11, 2023 by fundinmental

Girl on Trial

by Kathleen Fine

October 23 – November 17, 2023 Virtual Book Tour

Does doing one bad thing make you a bad person?

Sixteen-year-old Emily Keller, known by the media as Keller the Killer, is accused of causing the deaths of a family of four, including young children. Emily is one of the youngest females to be accused of a crime so heinous, making this the nation’s biggest trial of the year. But what really happened that fateful night—and who’s responsible—is anything but straightforward.

Living in a trailer park in Baltimore with her twin brother and alcoholic mother, Emily’s life hasn’t been easy. She’s had to grow up fast, and like any teen, has made questionable decisions in a desperate attempt to fit in with her peers. Will her mistakes amount to a guilty verdict and a life in prison? It’s up to the jury to decide.

Praise for Girl on Trial:

“Kathleen Fine has written a compassionate, thought-provoking thriller that will have readers asking themselves big questions about redemption while also turning the pages with breathless anticipation. From her opening pages, Fine grabbed my attention and didn’t let go until I closed the book, hardly twenty four hours later. Fine’s story reminds us that everyone has a backstory and that the root of empathy involves discovering the particulars of someone else’s history with an open heart and mind.”
~ Christie Tate, Author of Reese’s Book Club and NYT bestseller GROUP

“In her sharp debut Girl on Trial, Kathleen Fine deftly weaves the past with 16 year-old Emily Keller’s present-day manslaughter trial, allowing readers to put together the puzzle pieces of what really happened the day everyone says Emily killed an entire family. With her vivid characters and a well-developed setting, Fine evokes compassion for people trying their best and reminds us that there’s more to every story than meets the eye. Girl on Trial asks readers to wonder: are we more than our biggest mistake, and does everyone deserve redemption?”
~ Jessie Weaver, author of Live Your Best Lie

“Readers will be on edge as Emily’s decisions lead her to become involved in and vulnerable to dangerous situations… The epilogue brings the roller-coaster ride to a satisfying conclusion…. Gripping, tragic, but ultimately hopeful.”
~ Kirkus

“In Kathleen Fine’s Girl on Trial…interpersonal dynamics are revelatory… reality wars with public perception…a suspenseful thriller in which a maligned teenager is forced to fight for justice.”
~ Foreword Reviews

Book Details:

Genre: YA Contemporary Mystery/Thriller
Published by: CamCat Books
Publication Date: October 2023
Number of Pages: 336
ISBN: 9780744306835 (ISBN10: 0744306833)
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | CamCat Books

Read an excerpt:

Prologue

January 12, 2022

i

“The only reason I come to this meeting is for my weekly caffeine high,” Tiffani with an i admitted. Emily nodded at her friend as she took a sip of her lukewarm, watered-down coffee, a taste she’d gotten used to. A taste she now associated with healing.

“I’m not no strung-out addict or nothin’,” Tiffani continued and then focused on Emily, remembering that Emily, in fact, wasn’t there just for the coffee. “No offense—wasn’t tryin’ to say nothin’ bad about addicts. It’s just they don’t give us caffeine inside, ya know?”

“No offense taken.” Emily smiled as she wrapped both hands around her coffee cup, relaxing her tense shoulders. She’d become used to Tiffani’s candor and had grown to appreciate the woman’s raw honesty. She watched as Tiffani sprinkled some sugar into her undersized paper cup and stirred it with the plastic spoon tied to a container with blue yarn. Tiffani glanced around the room and then untied the yarn, placing the spoon into the pocket of her gray, state-issued sweatpants. Emily bit her lip, debating if she should stop her, but then decided not to. Tiffani was going to do what Tiffani wanted to do—she always did and always would.

“I gnaw on the edges of this enough and it gives me a sorta sharp blade.” She gave Emily a wink as she patted her pocket, keeping the new weapon safe as she took a seat in the circle with the other women.

“One minute, ladies,” the guard announced to the group as the chatter quieted down and the women took their seats in the circle. Emily picked up an NA book from the only empty seat in the circle that Nikki left for her as a placeholder. She sat down in its place, shifting uncomfortably in the metal chair. She moved her eyes toward the group secretary, Darlene, as she flipped through a stack of papers on her lap.

“Hello, I’m an addict and my name is Darlene. Welcome to the Lincoln Juvenile Correctional Center’s group of Narcotics Anonymous. Can we open this meeting with a moment of silence for the addict who still suffers, followed by the serenity prayer?” Emily closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she tried to stop her palms from sweating. She still got anxious even though she’d been attending the meeting every week for the past year. How has it been an entire year? she wondered. So much has happened in only twelve months.

“Is there anyone here attending their first NA meeting or this meeting for the first time?” Darlene asked. “If so, welcome! You’re the most important person here! If you’ve used today, please listen to what’s being said and talk to someone at the break or after the meeting. It costs nothing to belong to this fellowship; you are a member when you say you are. Can someone please read, Who Is an Addict? and What Is Narcotics Anonymous?”

“I will,” Chantelle volunteered as she reached across the circle, grabbed the paper from Darlene, and began reading aloud to the group.

“Yo, Em,” Nikki leaned over and whispered in Emily’s ear. “You celebratin’ today?” Emily nodded at her timidly. She didn’t like speaking in front of people even if it was a group of women she trusted.

“You’ll do great,” Nikki whispered as she punched Emily lightly in the arm. Emily peered around the circle to make sure no one was paying attention to Nikki’s whispers. They weren’t supposed to have side conversations during the meeting—the guard would send them out of the room if he caught them.

When Chantelle finished the reading, Darlene thanked her and said, “Now can someone please read Why We Are Here and How It Works?”

Emily watched anxiously as the paper was passed down to Trina. She closed her eyes and listened to Trina’s words, clenching her jaw tightly.

“I used last night,” Nikki muttered so quietly, Emily wasn’t sure if she was meant to hear her. She glanced over at Nikki, who was staring down into her coffee cup shamefully. Nikki had been the first person to introduce herself to Emily at her initial meeting, making her Emily’s OG friend in the group. Emily furrowed her brow and placed her hand on top of Nikki’s. She wished Nikki had told her about the relapse earlier—then she could have had an actual conversation with her about it. She wondered where Nikki could’ve gotten her hands on anything since she’d heard a rumor the guards had been doing weekly bunk checks.

One day at a time, Nikki had told Emily, so many months before when she’d been a broken shell of herself. “One day at a time,” Emily whispered, trying not to let the guard hear their buzzing.

Seeing Emily’s tentative face, Nikki mumbled, “My roommate snuck some smack up her papusa. Had her boyfriend’s kid bring it in when he visited her. Whack, dude. Whack.” She shook her head and rubbed her buzzed hair with her rugged hands. “She’s a bad influence on me. I gotta get a new roommate.”

Emily frowned, aware that there was nothing she could do to help Nikki. Nikki had to want sobriety for herself, just like Emily had wanted it. She squeezed Nikki’s hand tightly and whispered, “Glad you’re here.” As much as Nikki’s relapse upset her, it gave her a tiny bit of strength to share her story. Maybe she could help Nikki even a little bit today by sharing her own struggles.

“No touching,” the guard yelled from across the room, eyeing Nikki and Emily. As if being scolded by a teacher, Emily reddened and instantly pulled her hand away from Nikki’s.

Darlene reached below her chair and lifted a shoebox to her lap. “This group recognizes length of clean time by handing out key tags. If you have one coming to you, please come up and get it. The white one is for anyone with zero to twenty-nine days clean and serene.” Darlene opened the box to reveal a white key tag and dangled it in the air. Nikki glanced at Emily and then hesitantly stood up to collect her tag. The group clapped and whistled wildly as she crossed the circle and took her tag. She gave a couple of the women fist bumps as the group chanted, “What do we do? Keep coming back!” Emily put her fist out as Nikki gave it a bump. She hoped this small gesture, this modest group of women cheering for Nikki, would be the reason she’d quit for good this time.

“The orange one is for thirty days clean and serene.” Emily watched as two women got up, collected their tags, and sat back down. Applause and chanting “What do we do? Keep coming back!” vibrated the room.

As Darlene handed out the tags for two months, three months, and so on, Emily gripped her chair, knowing her turn was coming. Her palms, damp with her sweat, began to slip along the chair’s metal sides.

“The yellow one is for nine months clean and serene,” Darlene announced.

Nikki peered at Emily and nudged her bicep. “Your turn is coming up soon,” she whispered. Emily smiled at her, trying to give the façade of bravery, but she felt anything but brave. What she really wanted to do was run as fast as she could out of the room and into the parking lot.

“The glow-in-the-dark one is for a year clean and serene.” You can do this, Emily thought as she unsteadily stood up and walked toward Darlene. All the women in the room clapped loudly and chanted as she took the tag and went back to her seat, her face flushing with pride.

Darlene placed the box back under her chair and collected the sheets of readings from the women who had read. “Today, Emily is celebrating her one-year anniversary with us. You ready, Em?”

The women’s applause quieted and all eyes turned toward her. Clenching her fists tightly, she felt her beating heart rise to her throat. She scanned the room at the women and girls before her. Addicts, inmates, and friends. My people, Emily thought as she said, “My name is Emily, and I am an addict. This is my story . . .”

1

Trial Day 1: January 7, 2019

i

The alarm on Emily’s phone chimed just as Sophie whispered in her ear, “Wake up, Emawee. Wake up.” She opened her eyes widely, her body covered in sweat, her sheets soaked yet again. “Time to wake up.” She heard Sophie’s whisper get farther away, humming distantly from somewhere in her dreams.

From somewhere in her nightmares.

As she turned off the alarm, she tried to overlook the numerous text messages that’d surfaced from numbers she didn’t recognize.

“Die, killer”

“You’ll pay in hell for what you did.”

“Murderer”

How can people I don’t even know want me dead?

With shaky hands, she deleted the texts as a CNN report popped up on her screen, updating her on the “Trial of the Year,” that was beginning that day:

CNN Breaking News
The Biggest Trial of the Year Begins Today, January 7, 2019. Emily Keller, also known by the media as Keller the Killer, is accused of causing the deaths of four family members, two of them small children. Only 16 years old, Emily is one of the youngest females to be accused of a crime so heinous.

Emily buried her face in her pillow, taking a deep breath. She tried to hold back the habitual tears that were creeping out from the corners of her eyes. I have to be strong today; no crying, she told herself as she rubbed her temples slowly. I need to put on my protective armor, or I’ll never make it through today alive. She reached under her mattress, grabbed her orange pill bottle and gave it a shake, the rattling sound of the tablets comforting her. She poured two pills onto her clammy palm and placed them gently on her tongue. Protective armor.

“Emily?” her brother, Nate, quietly inched open the bedroom door, “You awake? It’s time to start getting ready for court.”

Without looking up at him, she nodded as she rolled out of bed, trying not to think about how wrong the prosecution had the facts and how she could be sent to prison because of it. As she attempted to walk toward the door, her ankle monitor snagged on her lavender bedsheet. She yanked the sheet off in frustration and dragged her feet to the bathroom to prepare for the first day of her new life.

Debbie and Nate were already waiting for her in Debbie’s rumbling Toyota Camry when she stepped out of the trailer.

“It’s your turn for shotgun.” Emily opened the door to the backseat where Nate was already buckled in.

“You can take it today,” he muttered, avoiding eye contact with her.

“I don’t need pity shotgun just because I’m on trial for murder, Nate,” Emily replied curtly as she reluctantly sat down in the front seat. As she buckled her seat belt, she already regretted scolding Nate for doing something kind. I’ll apologize to him later, she told herself. Nate had been up with her until three o’clock that morning, listening to her cry and consoling her. I don’t deserve him, she thought, squeezing her eyes shut.

She rolled down her window and took a deep breath of fresh morning air as her mom lit a Virginia Slim, her hands trembling. “Morning vodka shot hasn’t kicked in yet?” Emily muttered under her breath as she turned on the radio. Or maybe one shot doesn’t cut it anymore, Emily thought.

“What hasn’t kicked in?” Debbie asked as she ashed her cigarette into an empty coke can, oblivious to Emily’s disrespectful comment.

“Coffee hasn’t kicked in yet?” Emily corrected herself as she investigated her face in the cracked side mirror of the car. The face staring back at Emily was swollen from weeks of nonstop crying. Although she’d put on some of her mom’s waterproof mascara, she still looked like someone had run her over with a truck. You’re so repulsive, she thought as she tried to comb her drab chestnut hair with her fingers, squinting at her image through the cracked glass. She wanted to disappear. Sink down into the seat of the car and disappear forever.

As she pinched her upper cheekbones to give her face some color, she glanced at Nate through the corner of the broken mirror, hoping he couldn’t tell she was staring at him through the mosaic lens. Since he had headphones in his ears, she assumed he was listening to a news podcast about the trial. The expression on his face looked like it was straining to stay calm, but she could read his emotions no matter how hard he tried to hide them. When you shared a womb with someone, you knew everything they were feeling.

There was actually supposed to be three of them. Her dad had left when he’d found out Debbie was pregnant with triplets. He’d said since he didn’t want one baby, he definitely didn’t want three. Emily used to sometimes think about how different her life would’ve been if their other brother hadn’t died at birth. Maybe he would’ve punched Tom Swanson for dumping her two years ago since Nate didn’t do a thing about it. Maybe he would’ve taught Emily to throw a football since Nate was anti-athletics.

Maybe he could’ve stopped Emily before she lost herself. Maybe he could’ve stopped this whole situation. Maybe no one would have died.

“Valerie told us to meet her around back when I spoke to her on the phone last night,” Emily directed her mom as they pulled up to the courthouse. Debbie nodded as she navigated her ancient car around to the back of the building, avoiding the crowd hovering at the entrance.

“Shit, look at all of the people,” Nate announced as he stared at the crowd and cameras surrounding the front of the building. No one seemed to notice their rickety car escape past the swell to the rear parking lot. Maybe they were expecting some sort of official-looking black SUV like you see in crime movies and not our pathetic piece of tin, Emily speculated, thinking about how some seniors at her school owned nicer cars than her mom’s. She peeked down at her gray dress and nervously picked little lint balls off it as her mom parked the car.

“You look fine, Em,” Debbie insisted as she opened a mini bottle of vodka from her purse and took a swig, “That dress looks lovely on you.” Debbie had spent her tip money to buy Emily “new” thrift store clothes for the trial. Emily was now pulling at a seam on the edge of the dress, making it unravel.

As she waited for her mom to finish her shot, she felt around for the phone in her purse to make sure it was turned off. She’d turn it on later that night once her mom and Nate were sleeping so she could read through her texts and the news in privacy. That way, if she cried, no one would see her. Strong people don’t cry, she told herself.

“You need a pill?” Debbie asked as she fumbled through the large purse on her lap. The Valium Emily had taken that morning was beginning to set in, and she was starting to feel unreasonably calm.

“I’m good.” Although I’ll need another one soon, she thought. It hurt her too much to live in reality.

Emily’s lawyer, Valerie Anderson, was standing at the back entrance of the building, propping open the heavy metal door with her bright red heel. As Emily stepped out of the car, Valerie waved her hands frantically, “Quick, before they catch on that you’re back here!” she shrieked as she lifted her long, hot pink nails to her mouth.

“We better hurry.” Debbie grabbed Nate’s and Emily’s hands, tugging them toward Valerie.

“Wait,” Emily urged as she struggled to catch up to her petite mom’s gait. Without warning, her black heel wobbled to the side and she stumbled, falling onto the hard concrete. Before she had the chance to assess the damage to her knees, Nate dropped his mom’s hand, grabbed Emily up by the arm, and quickly escorted her to the door. As they approached Valerie, all eyes looked to the blood running down Emily’s knees. Emily was surprised the wounds stung so badly even though the rest of her felt numb.

“We’ll have to find some Band-Aids ASAP before we converse.” Valerie’s heels echoed in the hallway as she led them to their room. Emily slouched over even more than she had been as she followed Valerie, spying the name Keller stuck to a metal door with a yellow Post-it. As they stepped inside, the heavy door slammed behind them with a loud thud.

***

Author Bio:

Kathleen Fine received her Master’s in Reading Education from Towson University and Bachelor’s in Elementary Education from University of Maryland, College Park. She is a member of the Maryland Writers Association, International Thriller Writers, and Author’s Guild. When she’s not writing and selling real estate, she enjoys spending time with her family, traveling to the Outer Banks, and of course, reading anything she can get her hands on. She currently lives in Baltimore, Maryland with her husband, three children, and Sussex Spaniel. Her short stories have been published in Litro Magazine, Pen in Hand, The Maryland Writer’s Association Anthology, and in The Indignor Playhouse Anthology. Girl on Trial is her debut novel.

Catch Up With Our Author, Kathleen Fine:
KathleenFineAuthor.com
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Instagram – @kathleenfineauthor
Twitter/X – @kathleenfine
Facebook – @fine.kathleen
TikTok – @kathleenfineauthor

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Giveaway – Citizen Orlov by Jonathan Payne @partnersincr1me @jon7payne

Posted on September 16, 2023 by fundinmental

Citizen Orlov

by Jonathan Payne

September 4-29, 2023 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

Not every fishmonger can be a secret agent.

Journey to an unnamed mountainous country in central Europe at the end of the Great War. Enter Citizen Orlov, a simple fishmonger and an honest, upright citizen, who answers a phone call meant for a secret agent and stumbles into a hidden world of espionage and secrecy. Recruited by the Ministry of Security, he is sent on assignment to safeguard the king.

But Orlov soon discovers that his ministry handler, the alluring femme fatale Agent Zelle, is planning not to protect the king but to assassinate him. Caught in a web of plot and counterplot, confusing loyalties, and explosive betrayals, Orlov finds himself on trial for murder. Given the opportunity to clear his name, he finds that the lives of his friends, mother, and fellow citizens hang in the balance.

Praise for CITIZEN ORLOV:

“A triumph—and an answer to that age-old question of what would have happened had Gogol, Kafka and G. K. Chesterton collaborated on a thriller. A timeless work which will, I fear, be forever timely.”
~ Dixe Wills, author of Places to Hide and New World Order

“Jonathan Payne’s Citizen Orlov is a stunning debut! A page turning, down-the-rabbit-hole delight, told with equal measure of wit and suspense. A timeless classic for our current moment; a paranoid and comic thriller with a surprise on every page. I loved it!”
~ Don Scardino, Producer/Director, 30 Rock, New Amsterdam

“Highly engaging, and written with an engaging lightness of touch, Citizen Orlov marks the debut of a comic novelist to watch for the future.”
~ Dr. Adam Lively, Senior Lecturer in Creative Writing & Programme Leader, MA Novel Writing, Middlesex University

“The blend of action and picaresque buffoonery flatteringly calls Conan Doyle’s Brigadier Gerard tales to mind, and Payne pulls off a genuinely surprising conclusion. This auspicious debut announces a bright new voice in comic suspense.”
~ Publishers Weekly, Starred Review

[An] odyssey that seems part Kafka, part ‘Alice in Wonderland.
~ Wall Street Journal

Book Details:

Genre: Espionage Thriller
Published by: CamCat Books
Publication Date: May 2023
Number of Pages: 288
ISBN: 9780744309010 (ISBN10: 0744309018)
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | CamCat Books

Read an excerpt:

On a frigid winter’s morning in a mountainous region of central Europe, Citizen Orlov, a simple fishmonger, is taking a shortcut along the dank alley behind the Ministries of Security and Intelligence when a telephone begins to ring. He thinks nothing of it and continues on his daily constitutional, his heavy boots crunching the snow between the cobbles.

The ringing continues, becoming louder with each step. A window at the back of the ministry buildings is open, just a little. The ringing telephone sits on a table next to the open window. Orlov stops, troubled by this unusual scene: there is no reason for a window to be open on such a cold day. Since this is the Ministry of either Security or Intelligence, could an open window be a security breach of some kind?

Orlov is tempted to walk away. After all, this telephone call is none of his business. On the other hand, he is an upright and patriotic citizen who would not want to see national security compromised simply because no one was available to answer a telephone call. He is on the verge of stepping toward the open window when he hears footsteps ahead. A tight group of four soldiers is marching into the alley, rifles on shoulders. He freezes for a second, leans against

the wall, and quickly lights a cigarette. By the time the soldiers reach him, Orlov is dragging on the cigarette and working hard to appear nonchalant. The soldiers are palace guardsmen, but the red insignia on their uniforms indicates they are part of the elite unit that protects the Crown Prince, the king’s ambitious older son. Orlov nods politely, but the soldiers ignore him and march on at speed.

The telephone is still ringing. Someone very much wants an answer. Orlov stubs his cigarette on the wall and approaches the open window. The telephone is loud in his right ear. Peering through the gap, he sees a small, gloomy storeroom with neatly appointed shelves full of stationery.

Finally, he can stand it no longer. He reaches through the window, picks up the receiver, and pulls it on its long and winding cable out through the window to his ear.

“Hello?” says Orlov, looking up and down the alley to check he

is still alone.

“Thank God. Where have you been?” says an agitated voice, distant and crackly. Orlov is unsure what to say. The voice continues. “Kosek. Right now.”

“I’m sorry?” says Orlov.

“Kosek. Agent Kosek.”

Orlov peers into the storeroom again. “There’s no one here,” he says.

“Well, fetch him then. And hurry, for God’s sake. It’s important.”

Orlov is sorely tempted to end the call and walk away, but the voice is so angry that he dare not.

“One minute,” he says, and lays the receiver on the table. He opens the window wider and, with some considerable effort, pulls himself headfirst into the storeroom, where he tumbles onto the floor. Picking himself up, he slaps the dust from his overcoat, opens the storeroom door, and peers along the hallway; all is dark and quiet.

With some trepidation, Orlov returns to the telephone. “Hello?” he says.

“Kosek?”

“No, sorry. I’ll have to take a message.”

The caller is still agitated. “Well, focus on what I’m about to say. It’s life and death.”

Orlov’s hands are shaking. “Hold on,” he says, “I’ll fetch some paper.”

Before he can put the receiver down, the caller explodes with anger. “Are you a simpleton? Do not write this down. Remember it.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry,” says Orlov. “I’ll remember it.”

“Are you ready?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Here it is. We could not—repeat not—install it in room six. Don’t ask why, it’s a long story.”

The man is about to continue, but Orlov interrupts him. “Should I include that in the message: ‘it’s a long story’?”

“Mother of God,” shouts the man. “Why do they always give me the village idiot? No. Forget that part. I’ll start again.”

“Ready,” says Orlov.

This time the man speaks slower and more deliberately, as if to a child. “We could not—repeat not—install it in room six. You need to get room seven. It’s hidden above the wardrobe. Push the lever up, not down. Repeat that back to me.”

Orlov is now shaking all over, and he grimaces as he forces himself to focus. He repeats the message slowly but correctly.

“Whatever else you do, get that message to Kosek, in person. No one else. Lives depend on it. Understood?”

“Understood,” says Orlov, and the line goes dead.

***

Author Bio:

Jonathan Payne is a British-American writer based outside Washington, D.C. He holds a Master of Arts degree in Novel Writing from Middlesex University, London. His short fiction has been featured at the North London Story Festival and in magazines including Turnpike, Twist in Time and Fiction Kitchen Berlin. Before moving to the United States, he worked for the British government on matters of national security. When not writing or reading, he can be found in the boxing gym.

Catch Up With Jonathan Payne:
www.JonathanPayne.org
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Instagram – @jon7payne
Twitter – @jon7payne

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The Spotlight Is On The Registration by Madison Lawson @ireadbooktours @madisonlawson96

Posted on March 29, 2023 by fundinmental

Book Details:

Book Title: The Registration (a Novel) by Madison Lawson
Category: Adult Fiction (18 +), 320 pages
Genre: Thriller
Publisher: CamCat Books
Release date: September 2022
Content Rating: PG-13 + M. There is violence, including a torture scene, and some language, as well as mention of domestic violence, abuse, murder, and abortions.

Book Description:

You can’t outrun the Registration.

Imagine it’s legal to commit one murder in your lifetime⎯if you Register the victim and accomplish the kill within fourteen days. So when Lynell Mize stands in line to Register the man who abused her as a child, she’s shocked to hear a stranger Register her to be killed. Why would anyone who doesn’t know her squander his one legal murder on her? Desperate to survive the next two weeks, she must find out who wants to kill her⎯and why.

Easier said than done as Lynell soon discovers that multiple strangers have used their Registration on her. Along the way, she reunites with her estranged husband who is determined to dig up a past Lynell prefers to keep buried. With only days left to live, Lynell fights to uncover the truth and survive a destiny not of her choosing.

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Meet the Author:

Author Madison Lawson writes speculative fiction novels full of suspense, social commentary, and complex relationships. She has published a dozen short stories, many of which won awards such as the Koresh Award and the Gordone Award. She received her B.A. in English from Texas A&M University and is currently earning her M.A. in English at North Carolina State University. Born and raised in a small Texas town, Madison began escaping through reading and writing as soon as she could.

connect with the author: website ~ twitter ~ facebook ~ instagram ~ goodreads

You can see my Giveaways HERE.
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If you like what you see, why don’t you follow me?
Look on the right sidebar and let’ talk.
Leave your link in the comments and I will drop by to see what’s shakin’.
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You can see my Giveaways HERE. You can see my Reviews HERE. If you like what you see, why don’t you follow me? Look on the right sidebar and let’ talk. Leave your link in the comments and I will drop by to see what’s shakin’. I am an Amazon affiliate/product images are linked. Thanks for visiting fundinmental!

Giveaway – Queen’s Catacombs by Jordan H Bartlett @ireadbooktours

Posted on March 24, 2023 by fundinmental

Book Details:

Book Title:  Queen’s Catacombs (The Frean Chronicles #2) by Jordan H. Bartlett
Category:  YA Fiction (Ages 13-17), 416 pages
Genre: YA Fantasy
Publisher:  CamCat Books
Release date: Mar 2023
Content Rating: PG. Very clean, but there is some brief violence.

Book Description:

Winning the crown was only the beginning.

Jacs, now the rightful Queen of Frea, seems to be Queen in title alone. She scrambles to learn the customs and traditions of a Realm she had only read about in books. The Council of Four have her firmly under their thumb, and their ideas for the Queendom are oppressive and outdated. Their knowledge of her mother and Master Leschi’s whereabouts is the only leverage they need to make the new Queen dance to their tune.

Jacs is determined to find those who were taken from her and do what’s right for her Queendom. But in her search for answers, Jacs uncovers a much darker truth from the Queendom’s past that will forever change its future.

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Amazon
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Giveaway & Review – Fool Her Once by Joanna Elm @ireadbooktours @authorjoannaelm

Posted on March 17, 2023 by fundinmental

Book Details:

Book Title:  Fool Her Once (A Novel) by Joanna Elm
Category:  Adult Fiction (18 +), 416 pages
Genre: Thriller
Publisher:  CamCat Books
Release date: Feb, 2023
Content Rating:  PG-13 + M. There’s adultery, language, some sexual content, and violent crime, but no explicit descriptions of the crimes.

MY REVIEW

I love the great cover for Fool Her Once and it fits the story. The dark and eerie cover fits the description of the characters inside. It seems they all have secrets they want kept.

Jenna Sinclair’s life is a convoluted mess. Jenna bounces between two men. She does have a knack for tracking people down and now that her past seems to be knocking at her door, she will have to find the answers for herself.

When Ryan is attacked outside her building, she believes that Denny Dennison’s son has come to make her pay for outing him and ruining his life. But, Jenna and Ryan had recently done an expose on restaurants, so the list of suspects is long. I do believe Joanna Elm threw a red herring my way, diverting me from a line of questioning that may have revealed the true villain before she gave me the answer.

She had outed a serial killer’s son, and now she thinks he has come back for revenge. Can killer genes be inherited, making someone evil? Can the children of serial killers become serial killers themselves? Bad genes, bad seeds?

She is married to Zack and has a daughter by him. Dollie sides with her father, but with an absentee mother, always at work in the city, that makes sense.

My thoughts were right and wrong at the same time. How wonderful for the story. What a great twist. I know the truth, but Jenna does not and does her own research, leaving no stone unturned. As the truth unfolds, I can’t help but smile. I love when I don’t have all the answers for myself and need some assistance from the author.

As I am nearing the end, my feelings for Jenna change. I am thinking she is an idiot. I can’t explain more, but I felt I gave her too much credit, believing she was clever, would find the answers and make the right choice.

Then, Jenna and Joanna Elm redeemed themselves in a big way. I guess we humans see what we want to see, trying to make the best of a bad situation. I wonder what you would think?

I voluntarily reviewed a free copy of Fool Her Once by Joanna Elm.

Book Description:

Some killers are born. Others are made.

As a rookie tabloid reporter, Jenna Sinclair made a tragic mistake when she outed Denny Dennison, the illegitimate son of an executed serial killer. So she hid behind her marriage and motherhood. Now, decades later, betrayed by her husband and resented by her teenage daughter, Jenna decides to resurrect her career—and returns to the city she loves.

When her former lover is brutally assaulted outside Jenna’s NYC apartment building, Jenna suspects that Denny has inherited his father’s psychopath gene and is out for revenge. She knows she must track him down before he can harm his next target, her daughter.

Meanwhile, her estranged husband, Zack, fears that her investigative reporting skills will unearth his own devastating secret he’d kept buried in the past.

From New York City to the remote North Fork of Long Island and the murky waters surrounding it, Jenna rushes to uncover the terrible truth about a psychopath and realizes her own investigation may save or destroy her family.

Buy the Book:
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BookBub
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Meet the Author:

Joanna Elm is an author, journalist, blogger, and attorney. Before the publication of her first two suspense novels (Scandal, Tor/Forge 1996); (Delusion, Tor/Forge/1997), she was an investigative journalist on the London Evening News on Fleet Street in the U.K. She also wrote for British magazines like Woman’s Own.

Then, she moved to New York where she worked as a writer/producer for television news and tabloid TV programs like “A Current Affair.” She was also the researcher/writer for WNEW-TV’s Emmy-award-winning documentary “Irish Eyes.” In 1980, she joined the Star as a reporter, eventually becoming the magazine’s news editor and managing editor before moving to Philadelphia as editor of the news/features section of TV Guide.

After completing her first two novels while living in South Florida, (Nelson DeMille described Scandal as “fresh, original and unpredictable”) Joanna returned to New York, enrolled in law school, graduated summa cum laude, passed the NY Bar exam, and worked as a principal law clerk for an appellate division justice in the prestigious First Department. She has been married to her husband Joe for 35 years and has one son.

connect with the author: website ~ instagram ~ twitter ~ bookbub ~ goodreads

You can see my Giveaways HERE.
You can see my Reviews HERE.
If you like what you see, why don’t you follow me?
Look on the right sidebar and let’ talk.
Leave your link in the comments and I will drop by to see what’s shakin’.
I am an Amazon affiliate/product images are linked.
Thanks for visiting fundinmental!

Giveaway – Armadas In The Mist by Christian Klaver @iReadBookTours @mrchrstn

Posted on December 14, 2022 by fundinmental

Book Details:

Book Title:  Armadas in the Mist (Empire of the House of Thorns series – Book Three) by Christian Klaver
Category:  YA Fiction (Ages 13-17), 332 pages
Genre: YA Fantasy
Publisher:  CamCat Books
Release date: November 2022
Content Rating: PG. It’s very clean.

Book Description:

The Black Shuck’s forces gather just beyond the mist . . .

Captain Justice Kasric knows how complicated family can be. The escalating Human-Faerie war has scattered and wounded her siblings and transformed her parents beyond recognition. After narrowly escaping yet another dangerous clash, fifteen-year-old Justice has had enough. She’s determined to defeat the Black Shuck, the mysterious leader controlling the Faerie invasion of London, but if Justice hopes to stand a chance at victory, she’ll have to do the impossible: reunite her family and lead them against the looming Faerie Armada.

With her mother and brother at the helm of the enemy fleet, and the prophesized Seven Virtues slipping out of reach, Justice more than has her work cut out for her. Even if she can save England, the cost may be higher than she’s willing to pay.

Buy the Book:
CamCat Books
Amazon
B&N ~ IndieBound ~ BookShop
Audible
(coming soon)
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