$20 GC & Review – The Button Collector by M M Cochran @xpressotours

MY REVIEW

I love a good thriller, so when I saw the awesome cover for The button collector by M M Cochran, I was sucked right in. It doesn’t take long for me to become engrossed in the story.

Chicago journalist, Jessica Knight is being stalked and her relatives are being picked off, one after another. She feels she is constantly under watch by the killer. How long before her number comes up?

She hops from bed to bed, using and being used. I don’t have a lot of respect for her, but that doesn’t mean she deserves to be murdered,

They call HIM the The Button Collector because when he kills, he leaves one button sewing the victim’s mouth shut and takes one as a trophy.

I was reading, just cruising along, when BAM, the killer hits me in the face. I never saw it coming and it was a doozy. That alone makes the book worth reading.

Animated Animals. Pictures, Images and Photos
4 Stars

The Button Collector
M.M. Cochran
Publication date: September 17th 2024
Genres: Adult, Psychological Thriller

When Chicago journalist Jessica Knight is linked to a string of odd murders happening across the country, her life takes a turn for the worse.

She is left wondering why her relatives are the ones dropping like flies under the signature mark of a serial killer . . . why she can’t stop thinking about Michael Bradley, the appealing detective assigned to protect her . . . and most of all, why, despite being the Button Collector’s prime target, she’s still alive at all. One thing she knows for certain: the killer is always watching. As the line between truth and deception begins to blur, Jessica crumbles under the dense web of lies she’s trying to keep straight–especially once the police start questioning more than just her sanity. With pressure mounting, Jessica must navigate being under the watchful eye of the police–and the killer–while risking it all in a dangerous game to make up for the mistakes of her past.

Her days are numbered…one way or the other.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo

EXCERPT:

Chapter 1

The first thing I feel when I step outside my apartment building is his eyes on me.

They burn. They haunt. They’re always there, somehow finding me almost every day since the first murder.

Long shadows stretch over the brown patch of grass before my building. They’re soft on my boots and heavy on the winter flowers that need sun. Rain pelts down the petals, but I’m too cold to get my fingers wet and shake the water off the weak flowers.

The thick weather clouds the feeling of his surveillance, but I still close my eyes to escape it.

Count backwards from ten.

Nine.

Eight.

Seven.

Okay, it’s gone.

Now open your eyes, I instruct myself.

It’s time to catch a cab. “Time to catch a cab,” I say.

Leave me alone. “Leave me alone,” I say.

The office buzzes with fluorescent lights over rickety desks made for half-hearted journalists. I slide between their narrow spaces and make my way to the associate editor’s desk. The editor in chief smokes in his office, and Della can tell me everything he knows, so I avoid him and his stench. It’s not something I can handle this morning, though on a good morning, I’d crave the smell of his cigarettes.

“Della, John wanted to see me? Why?” The tip of my umbrella taps the ground, sprinkling cold drops of leftover rain onto my pant leg.

She doesn’t even look at me, doesn’t even jump at the opportunity to comment on my red lipstick that’s too dark or my unshapely long coat. “He’s in his office.”

“But—”

“Jessica.”

The smoke in John’s office rolls onto me in waves of foggy white. My automatic response is to cough, clear my throat, but it would be nothing more than for show. He knows I’m used to it.

“Knight. Come here, I’ve got somethin’ for you.” He fingers me in and motions for me to take a seat. The dark leather on the chair does everything but absorb the moisture from my wet thighs.

He nudges a stack of papers in my direction. “Here’re some stories for the week that I came across over the weekend. Fire and Crime section looks like it’ll be good and full next issue, but I’d like you to start on this Button story. A profile about him to follow-up his murder we reported on last week. It’ll take some research, so I want your time and attention on this one. All week.” He taps the folder with his index and middle finger, keeping his cigarette in place between them. “Make it good. If you need me to get some intern on the other stuff, you just let me know, Knight. Let’s focus on this Button profile, and make sure to really center it around the freakshow killer more than the victims.”

John takes a long, focused drag off the cigarette. Blows it in a thin streak over his shoulder. Eyes me with a glare that’s crimped with sixty-year-old crow’s feet.

“You alright, Knight?”

“Fine. But why do you want me for this? I’m not investigative, just—”

“A hard crime reporter. I know. But you really proved yourself with investigative journalism skills after you covered that murder trial last month. I want to spread your wings a little more. Cover this Button story, Knight. It’s going to sell a lot of papers. Keep it up, and we’ll change your title to Investigative instead of just Crime Journalist.”

“Thanks, John, but I’m comfortable with my position.”

“I’ll give you a little raise, dear.” He wraps his lips around his cigarette and blows the smoke over his shoulder again. “And I’ll hire one of those interns to take over hard crime. Okay?”

“Alright. Thank you.”

“Well, we’ll see how this Button story goes.”

I nod.

“You sure you’re okay, Knight?”

“Yeah, fine.”

“Then shake that look off your face and get to work. I’d like to have that story by Thursday; I want the designers to arrange A1 layout around it. This’ll generate a lot of attention, you know. People are all over this Button Collector thing.”

“The word count?” I ask. I usually don’t have to talk word counts with him, but with big stories like this—like that trial—he always has some requirements to meet.

“Give me nine-hundred, no less.”

A knock on the door diverts his attention to behind me. “John,” the receptionist says, “a young lady would like to speak with you about advertisement.”

John pushes back his chair and stands, surrendering his cigarette to the dusty ash tray. “Stay here, Knight. I’ll be right back.”

My next breath is stifled by the smoke that folds into my face when he walks by. He leaves the door cracked behind him.

Author Bio:

As both a self-published and traditionally published author of YA fiction and a thriller, I know how vulnerable and scary handing your manuscript to an editor can be. . . But it is my job to take care of my clients and their stories, cherishing them as my own.
My novel, Between the Ocean the Stars, was ranked #2 at the worldwide distributors center upon publication and later named a finalist in the National Indie Excellence Awards. My next novel, The Button Collector, releases in 2024.

Website / Instagram


GIVEAWAY!
a Rafflecopter giveaway


Giveaway – Ashes On The Wind by Brandy Purdy @dollycas

ashes on the wind great escapes book tour banner


Ashes on the Wind:
The Love Story Behind The Crime of the Century
by Brandy Purdy

About Ashes on the Wind

ashes on the wind great escapes book tour banner


Ashes on the Wind: The Love Story Behind The Crime of the Century
Genre: Historical Fiction, True-Crime Inspired
Setting – Chicago, Illinois 1920
Publisher ‏ : ‎ Independently published (April 15, 2024)
Paperback ‏ : ‎ 573 pages
ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 979-8322116318
Digital ASIN ‏ : ‎ B0CYY43M3H

Nathan “Babe” Leopold was a socially awkward genius who used arrogance as a shield. He cultivated a philosophy of absolute selfishness cherry-picked from his reading of Nietzsche and indulged himself with vivid sexual fantasies about kings and slaves.

Richard “Dickie” Loeb was the brightest of the bright young things, a social butterfly as fragile as glass inside, hiding his insecurities behind a dazzling smile and a mouthful of lies. He found escape in thrilling tales and fantasies of crime.

They were two brilliant and privileged boys, each harboring secrets it would have been social suicide to reveal in their 1920s world.

When Babe met Dickie, it was like his favorite fantasy had stepped out of his dreams into real life.

When Dickie met Babe, he thought he had found the accomplice who would help make his criminal dreams come true.

Dickie was willing to give Babe what he wanted, if Babe would give him what he wanted. Quid pro quo. Until Dickie wanted something more, leaving Babe desperate and willing to do anything to hold onto his dream. Even if it led down a dark path to the Crime of the Century and infamy as the thrill killers Leopold and Loeb.

About Brandy Purdy

Brandy Purdy is the author of several historical novels including The Ripper’s Wife, The Secrets of Lizzie Borden, The Boleyn Wife, and The Tudor Throne.

Blog: http://bybrandypurdy.blogspot.com/

Purchase Link – Amazon 

TOUR PARTICIPANTS

a Rafflecopter giveaway
  • 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!

Immortal Vendettas – Old Scores by A J Harrison @imvendettas #vampires

Amazon / KindleUnlimited / Goodreads

MY REVIEW

The beginning of Old Scores by A J Harrison has me thinking of The Mummy…an underground archaeological dig, an odd looking brick, a little blood, and the floor gives out beneath their feet. You would never find me down there!

Years later, from Syria to Chicago…The atmosphere is spooky…darkness and a sarcophagus, and him. He takes what he needs with no remorse, yet at a mothers desperate request, he becomes The Equalizer. Simon is a vampire, drawn to humans. His fascination with humans makes me think of Lucifer. He was so intrigued, he had been going to the University of Illinois Chicago for five years.to be around them. His world was dealt a dramatic change when he, literally, ran into Anita. Simon meant to walk away, but there was something about her. Moments of Lucifer with Chloe and Edward with Bella kept creeping in.

I found myself laughing at the dialogue, especially with Marion and Anita’s mother…and Simon’s gruesome, internal thoughts. Like when he sat at the dinner table with the humans. I wonder if those thoughts will be implanted in my mind when I visit family and friends for Thanksgiving. LOL

The story had been all about Simon, until Salem came to town. And Shafax. They are more powerful than he is and he gets caught in the middle of their blood feud. Shafax is the power crazy King of Vampires. Salem was Simon’s mentor, but their difference of opinion when it came to humans, caused their split.

Simon is a fascinating character and watching him learn makes for a fantastic story. The final fight against the vampires, puts both Anita and Simon at risk, but Simon is pretty hard to kill and Anita is not so shabby herself. Coyotes, rats, and zombies are thrown at them.

In the beginning of the book, I thought it a bit slow, but I loved all the time I spent with Simon. The last half was no slouch. Sure, some familiarity, shades of Lucifer and Twilight, but I loved both of those, so having some of those similarities are a huge draw for me. That doesn’t mean there are no dark and disturbing moments, blood and guts, and savage battles. A J has a way with words, bringing the characters and scenes to life, making the action easy to visualize.

I am VERY impressed with A J Harrison”s debut novel, Old Scores. The story could end here, but I feel these characters have more to say. How about it A J? Will there be more?

Animated Animals. Pictures, Images and Photos
4 Stars

GOODREADS BLURB

It takes only a brief mischance and a few drops of blood to awaken an unspeakable evil and unleash it upon an unsuspecting world.

The vampire Simon has always prided himself on his detachment from humankind, but curiosity draws him to them nonetheless. A chance encounter with mortal Anita Rothard entices them both too much to ignore, but as the two grow closer and Simon finds his secret harder to keep, they are caught in the middle of a centuries-old blood feud between Shafax, the power-mad King of Vampires, and Simon’s estranged mentor, the enigmatic vampire Salem.

When enemies stir and rivalries reawaken, old scores will be settled and blood will flow.

  • Genre: Fantasy, Fiction, Paranormal, Supernatural, Urban Fantasy, Vampires
  • 506 pages, Kindle Edition
  • Published September 29, 2023

ABOUT A J HARRISON

Andrew J. “A.J.” Harrison has had a lifelong love for vampires, werewolves, and other classic things that go bump in the night.  A retired officer of the United States Army Judge Advocate General’s Corps, he lives in the Chicago suburbs with his calico cat, Vandal, who lives up to her name.  Old Scores is his first novel.

Website / Twitter / Instagram / Facebook

  • 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 – At The Ready by Sharon Michalove @partnersincr1me @sdmichalove

At the Ready by Sharon Michalove Banner

At the Ready

by Sharon Michalove

August 28 – September 22, 2023 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

What happens when a hunky French-Canadian security executive falls for a feisty Chicago lawyer?

Micki Press and JL Martin both have complicated lives, but when they come together, the sparks are undeniable. Micki is trying to make it to the top of one of the most conservative corporate law firms in Chicago. JL is the CEO of WatchDog Inc., a successful security company, and is struggling with his own family complications. When Micki’s former lover stalks her, JL steps in to protect her, and the two soon realize their feelings go beyond friendship. But with their complicated pasts and the struggles of the corporate world, are they ready to take the next step, or will the twists and turns have them singing the Chicago blues?

If you enjoy a story of complicated love and corporate ambition, you’ll love At the Ready. If you enjoy fast-paced action, romance, and a dash of karaoke, you’ll fall for At the Ready.

Book Details:

Genre: Romantic Suspense
Published by: Coffee and Eclairs Books (self-published)
Publication Date: August 2023
ISBN: 978-1-7369187-6-0
Series: Global Security Unlimited, 3
Book Links: Amazon | Book Bub | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

Chicago, February 2014

One secret of success in life is for a man to be ready for his opportunity when it comes.—Benjamin Disraeli

Micki

Today’s the day. Best suit. Flawless hair and makeup. Every inch the polished senior associate. No four-inch heels, though. Frederick Lanscombe, managing partner, is a little sensitive about his height and this meeting is the crucial first step in the campaign to be the next partner at Miller, Lanscombe, Baker, Francis, Masters, and Hargrove.

The door to the small conference room is wide open, Fred at the head of table, eating a donut. My mentor, Rebecca Masters smiles and gives me a small thumbs up. Tyler Miller nods to acknowledge I’m there. More than there. After a hundred years, this firm is still a boys’ club but I plan to crack into top echelon and become just the second woman to make partner.

I fly through the door and end up on hands and knees when Hayden Forbes-Cartwright barrels into me. When I look up, Fred’s donut is poised at his open mouth. Rebecca’s hand is over her mouth. And Tyler laughs. “Great entrance, Micki.” The censure I hear pricks my balloon of confidence.

A snigger erupts from Hayden as his big hand reaches down to pull me up. “So sorry, Micki. Couldn’t put the brakes on in time.”

Upright, balanced a little precariously on my toothpick heels, my glare has the heat of the Milky Way. Not that Hayden pays any attention. His bogus concern is yet one more layer of deceit. Still, points to him. I’m the klutz and he’s the chivalric hero.“Have a seat, Micki, Hayden.” Fred gives each of us a once over. Dressing well is one of the unspoken rules. Hayden’s navy blue pinstripe is comparable to my silver gray jacket and matching pencil skirt—points even on wardrobe. My phone is in my lap and I pull up my spreadsheet. I’ve kept score since the first time we met. The advantage has seesawed back and forth, but we’re competing for the pinnacle in the stakes race, so I’ll have to up my game.

Hayden and I were adversaries from the get-go. We started here, on the same day eight years ago. Me half an hour early. Hayden fifteen minutes late strolling in with his uncle. All my muscles clenched when he looked me over with his trademark devil-may-care smile.

“I know you received the memo. With Sonny Philips’ retirement, the firm will promote one associate to partner this year. As the two seniors, you will be the leading candidates.”

Hayden stops fiddling with his Chicago Yacht Club tie. “Does that mean other associates might be considered?”

“Technically, yes, but in reality you two are the only ones qualified right now. The partners will evaluate you on several criteria besides the competencies you’ve shown in your time here.”

He pauses.

Hayden rushes into the short silence. “Does every partner get a vote?”

“You know they do,” Tyler chides his nephew impatiently.

“And are some votes weighted more heavily than others? Like seniority?”

“No.” Rebecca’s response is explosive. “Please go on, Fred.”

When I glance toward Hayden, he shows no embarrassment, not even a slight flush. We all learn to put on a neutral face. I permit myself a very small smile. Minus five to Hayden.

Fred looks at the sheet in front of him, then from Tyler to Rebecca. They nod. “The criteria include enthusiasm, treatment of others, the opinion of your mentor, maintaining personal control, commitment, successful building and protection of your reputation and that of the firm, consistent hard work, always available, constant improvement, and most important— being perceived as trustworthy.”

Hayden’s eyes dart like tiny silverfish, his tell when he’s scheming. on how to get the edge. While I put in the long hours and never turn down a request, Hayden skates by, taking credit for the work of junior associates. Boasting about staying late when he disappears in the middle of the day. When your uncle’s name is on the door, you have an extra pass. Tyler Miller will definitely push for Hayden to be the next partner.

Fred is still talking and I wrench my attention back to his droning monotone. “Besides the formal evaluation, the other piece will be assisting Rebecca with a high-profile insider trading case. It’s more than usually sensitive because our client is a candidate for a Senate seat. He says he’s been set up. Not necessarily a strong or provable defense. You’ll be combing emails, social media, accounts, and documents to see what evidence you find.”

Bucket of nightcrawlers? Come on, Micki, try to show some enthusiasm. Can’t jump up and down.

“What a great opportunity for us to show what we’re made of.” Hayden’s wide smile and crackling delivery is phony as a carney barker’s come on.

Our managing partner nods his head approvingly. Hayden is his favored candidate too. Fred and Tyler have some kind of mutual admiration society and Hayden benefits.

Yeah, he’s a suck up.

My turn. Say something but avoid the gush. “This is a amazing challenge. I really appreciate the chance to work on a case so important to the future and reputation of the firm and, potentially beyond, Fred.”

Rebecca produces a small smile, so I hope I’ve hit the right note.

As we walk out, she stops me. “Micki, I have a lunch appointment, but let’s have a drink after work.” She looks around but doesn’t see anyone in lurking mode. “We haven’t had a good chat for a while.”

“Great, Rebecca. Just come by my office when you’re ready to leave.”

Then I cancel my date for the evening. Work comes first, always.

*****

The Gage is lively at five thirty. After-work drinks have replaced the three-martini lunch, unless you’re Hayden Forbes-Cartwright. He indulges in both.

Rebecca manages to get us a quiet table in a corner near the tile fireplace. We won’t have to shout and have less likelihood of being overheard.

After the drinks are ordered, she pulls out a legal pad. “Thought we could go over some strategies for the work. My thought is that you’ll work on the emails, social media, anything online and whatever documents we can upload. That way, while you’re traveling, you’ll have plenty of material to access.”

“That would be great. I’ve been anxious about being away at such a crucial point in my career.”

The pencil between Rebecca’s fingers moves up and down like a seesaw. “Thanks to technology. Years ago we were tied to the office, the library. I’m glad you can go to the awards ceremony. Kind of like the Oscars for authors.”

“Yeah. Still five working days away…”

“Our new legal research assistant is already busy organizing everything as documentation comes in.”

A Paris Rose is put in front of Rebecca, who pushes her legal pad to the side, but not before a few drops splash onto the paper, leaving a light pink trail. My Jabberwock is in a coupe. She takes a sip just as the cheese board is deposited in the middle of the table along with a basket of fried pickles. Cheese is a magnet for me. My grabby fingers snatch some almost before the server gets the platter on the table.

“Simon Greenberg is an attorney with Talcott, Maier, and current Republican candidate for Senate from Illinois. The SEC received a tip claiming he made use of private information to trade stocks from several companies he represents. After an investigation, the Commission decided on civil charges. Unfortunately, because his candidacy has made him a public figure, criminal charges are pending as well. Maybe some questions about election finance too.”

“Wait. Shouldn’t Hayden be here?” Not that I want him, but if we’re a team, he deserves the same explanations.

“Hayden has already been briefed.”

Be professional. In control. Pretend it doesn’t matter.

“Oh. I see.” But I don’t. Not at all.

Rebecca takes a huge swallow of the pink liquid. “Not by me. After our meeting, Tyler and Fred took Hayden to lunch and briefed him there.”

How does she know? Or is this an assumption? My heated protest escapes before I can rein it in. “But it’s your case.”

She waves the comment away. “He was so full of himself when he got back. Swanned into my office. ‘Simon Greenberg, huh. I wondered after the rumors flying around. Good for us.’ Then he laughed and walked out.” Her scowl could freeze the Chicago River. “I was sure Tyler at least would make sure he’s up to speed and I wanted to get you in the loop right away. I wouldn’t be surprised if Fred and Tyler didn’t give Hayden some instruction on how to handle things and he will take advantage of the time you are away in April.”

My cocktail beckons and I chug it down, sputtering slightly. “Should I cancel the trip?”

She ignores that. “You’ll meet the client tomorrow, so make a strong impression. You’ll have plenty of work to do while you’re out of the office. Get your laptop set up with VPN. It will be your lifeline to the firm. Video meetings will help too. Make sure you can report on progress every day. A strong impression while you’re in Paris will give you a leg up.”

We see the waiter in the distance and Rebecca catches his attention. Once we have refills, she takes a sip, then leans forward. “Show you’re dedicated to the firm and the case and that you can work without supervision. I’ll try to schedule the meetings first thing in the morning to mitigate the seven-hour time difference.”

“And the other complications?”

“Hayden is one, as I’m sure you’ve guessed. More in terms of your selection as partner. That will be decided long before the case is finished. But he’ll push for every plum he can pluck. The other is that because of the election cycle, Greenberg is pushing to get this cleared up or buried quickly. News of the pending charges will hit the papers tomorrow.”

Why haven’t they leaked already?

Rebecca must be a mind reader. “The papers are planning front-page splashes with stories, commentary, and reactions on at least two inside pages.”

I can picture the Tribune. Huge headline and photos on their broadsheet front page. Stories about the investigation, the campaign, lots of background on the candidate, a piece where the rest of the field comments. Then an editorial on the op-ed pages. Maybe a political cartoon. The Sun-Times tabloid format will be just as comprehensive in a more compact form. “Collusion?”

“Cooperation.” Her forehead wrinkles, brows touching. The corners of her mouth turn down.

“Keeping him from making incendiary comments is going to be a job in itself. We want as little coverage as possible while we work on clearing him—if we can. The damage to his reputation is a gift to the other contenders. He’s been the front runner, the poster boy for the party.”

In two swallows, the Jabberwock has disappeared. I order another, then cram more cheese into my mouth.

“Hey, guys. Didn’t get the memo.” Hayden pushes into the tufted leather booth and reaches for a pickle, almost knocking me to the floor. “Uncle Tyler thought you might be here, Rebecca. Said it’s your usual watering hole.”

“A casual afterwork drink.” Rebecca’s voice is flat.

Hayden reaches over and taps her legal pad. “Sure you aren’t strategizing?” The twinkle in his eye shows malice, not amusement. “By the way, I met Laney this afternoon. She’s a cutie.”

“Laney?” The name is unfamiliar.

With a leer, he says, “Our legal researcher. Fresh out of her paralegal program.”

The server comes by with my third drink.

“Are you running a tab?”

Rebecca nods.

“Two Satan’s Whiskers. Need to play catch up with these two.” His smirk makes my skin crawl.

“How appropriate.”

He snickers. My snarky comment bounces off his crocodile hide.

Before the drinks guy can take off, I hold up a hand. “I’d like to order something to go.”

Pad out, he looks a bit like a bird, head to the side.

“Shrimp cocktail with no sauce, and the Apple Salad. Just put the shrimp on top of the salad with the dressing on the side.”

“You got it.”

Hayden puffs out his chest like a pouter pigeon. “Me, I have a date as soon as I finish these truly spectacular drinks.”

“Drinks named just for you.”

He grins. “You know it. Scary but seductive. And I have some seducing on tap.”

Probably with our new researcher. I push the sour feelings back. “Have fun.”

“Oh, I intend to.”

Rebecca’s warning look doesn’t make any impression either. She grabs her coat off the empty seat. “Off to have dinner with my hubby. He’s cooking tonight.”

I trudge to the office, takeout container in hand, ready for a little research of my own.

***

Excerpt from At the Ready by Sharon Michalove. Copyright 2023 by Sharon Michalove. Reproduced with permission from Sharon Michalove. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Sharon Michalove

Sharon Michalove writes romantic suspense and traditional mystery as well as being a published historian. After growing up in suburban Chicago, she spent most of her life in a medium-sized university town, working as an academic professional as well as teaching history. She was married to a composer and frequently uses her knowledge of music, history, and food to enrich her novels. A hockey fan, Sharon moved back to Chicago in 2017 so she could go to Blackhawks games and spend quality time at Eataly Chicago.

Catch Up With Sharon:
CoffeeAndEclairs.com
Goodreads
BookBub – @sdmichalove
Instagram – @sdmichaloveauthor
Twitter – @sdmichalove
Facebook – @sharonmichalove
AllAuthor – @sharonmichalove

 

 

Tour Participants:

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

 

 

JOIN IN ON THE GIVEAWAY:

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

 

 

Get More Great Reads at Partners In Crime Tours

 

  • 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 – At The Ready by Sharon Michalove @partnersincr1me @sdmichalove

At the Ready

by Sharon Michalove

July 3, 2023 Cover Reveal

Synopsis:

At the Ready by Sharon Michalove

Micki Press agrees to a date with JL Martin when her long-term, seemingly stable relationship with an artist implodes. Now her unfaithful former lover is stalking her, and JL, who is the CEO of WatchDog, Inc. has more than one reason to feel protective.

Micki isn’t ready for a new commitment, especially since she’s trying to get promoted at one of the top corporate law firms in Chicago. But her social activist proposal to create a pro bono division in the firm doesn’t go over well with the conservative partners.

JL has his own complications with a mother who wants him move back to Vancouver and marry someone French-Canadian, Catholic, and young enough to produce grandchildren. Micki won’t tick any of those boxes. And JL wants to get his deadbeat uncle out of his mother’s house and persuade her to move to Chicago.

Are JL and Micki ready to negotiate the twists and turns or will the challenges make them sing the Chicago blues?

Book Details:

Genre: Romantic Suspense
Published by: Coffee and Eclairs Books (self-published)
Publication Date: August 2023
ISBN: 978-1-7369187-6-0
Series: Global Security Unlimited, 3
Book Links: Amazon | Book Bub | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

Chicago, February 2014

One secret of success in life is for a man to be ready for his opportunity when it comes.—Benjamin Disraeli

Micki

Today’s the day. Best suit. Flawless hair and makeup. Every inch the polished senior associate. No four-inch heels, though. Frederick Lanscombe, managing partner, is a little sensitive about his height and this meeting is the crucial first step in the campaign to be the next partner at Miller, Lanscombe, Baker, Francis, Masters, and Hargrove.

The door to the small conference room is wide open, Fred at the head of table, eating a donut. My mentor, Rebecca Masters smiles and gives me a small thumbs up. Tyler Miller nods to acknowledge I’m there. More than there. After a hundred years, this firm is still a boys’ club but I plan to crack into top echelon and become just the second woman to make partner.

I fly through the door and end up on hands and knees when Hayden Forbes-Cartwright barrels into me. When I look up, Fred’s donut is poised at his open mouth. Rebecca’s hand is over her mouth. And Tyler laughs. “Great entrance, Micki.” The censure I hear pricks my balloon of confidence.

A snigger erupts from Hayden as his big hand reaches down to pull me up. “So sorry, Micki. Couldn’t put the brakes on in time.”

Upright, balanced a little precariously on my toothpick heels, my glare has the heat of the Milky Way. Not that Hayden pays any attention. His bogus concern is yet one more layer of deceit. Still, points to him. I’m the klutz and he’s the chivalric hero.“Have a seat, Micki, Hayden.” Fred gives each of us a once over. Dressing well is one of the unspoken rules. Hayden’s navy blue pinstripe is comparable to my silver gray jacket and matching pencil skirt—points even on wardrobe. My phone is in my lap and I pull up my spreadsheet. I’ve kept score since the first time we met. The advantage has seesawed back and forth, but we’re competing for the pinnacle in the stakes race, so I’ll have to up my game.

Hayden and I were adversaries from the get-go. We started here, on the same day eight years ago. Me half an hour early. Hayden fifteen minutes late strolling in with his uncle. All my muscles clenched when he looked me over with his trademark devil-may-care smile.

“I know you received the memo. With Sonny Philips’ retirement, the firm will promote one associate to partner this year. As the two seniors, you will be the leading candidates.”

Hayden stops fiddling with his Chicago Yacht Club tie. “Does that mean other associates might be considered?”

“Technically, yes, but in reality you two are the only ones qualified right now. The partners will evaluate you on several criteria besides the competencies you’ve shown in your time here.”

He pauses.

Hayden rushes into the short silence. “Does every partner get a vote?”

“You know they do,” Tyler chides his nephew impatiently.

“And are some votes weighted more heavily than others? Like seniority?”

“No.” Rebecca’s response is explosive. “Please go on, Fred.”

When I glance toward Hayden, he shows no embarrassment, not even a slight flush. We all learn to put on a neutral face. I permit myself a very small smile. Minus five to Hayden.

Fred looks at the sheet in front of him, then from Tyler to Rebecca. They nod. “The criteria include enthusiasm, treatment of others, the opinion of your mentor, maintaining personal control, commitment, successful building and protection of your reputation and that of the firm, consistent hard work, always available, constant improvement, and most important— being perceived as trustworthy.”

Hayden’s eyes dart like tiny silverfish, his tell when he’s scheming. on how to get the edge. While I put in the long hours and never turn down a request, Hayden skates by, taking credit for the work of junior associates. Boasting about staying late when he disappears in the middle of the day. When your uncle’s name is on the door, you have an extra pass. Tyler Miller will definitely push for Hayden to be the next partner.

Fred is still talking and I wrench my attention back to his droning monotone. “Besides the formal evaluation, the other piece will be assisting Rebecca with a high-profile insider trading case. It’s more than usually sensitive because our client is a candidate for a Senate seat. He says he’s been set up. Not necessarily a strong or provable defense. You’ll be combing emails, social media, accounts, and documents to see what evidence you find.”

Bucket of nightcrawlers? Come on, Micki, try to show some enthusiasm. Can’t jump up and down.

“What a great opportunity for us to show what we’re made of.” Hayden’s wide smile and crackling delivery is phony as a carney barker’s come on.

Our managing partner nods his head approvingly. Hayden is his favored candidate too. Fred and Tyler have some kind of mutual admiration society and Hayden benefits.

Yeah, he’s a suck up.

My turn. Say something but avoid the gush. “This is a amazing challenge. I really appreciate the chance to work on a case so important to the future and reputation of the firm and, potentially beyond, Fred.”

Rebecca produces a small smile, so I hope I’ve hit the right note.

As we walk out, she stops me. “Micki, I have a lunch appointment, but let’s have a drink after work.” She looks around but doesn’t see anyone in lurking mode. “We haven’t had a good chat for a while.”

“Great, Rebecca. Just come by my office when you’re ready to leave.”

Then I cancel my date for the evening. Work comes first, always.

*****

The Gage is lively at five thirty. After-work drinks have replaced the three-martini lunch, unless you’re Hayden Forbes-Cartwright. He indulges in both.

Rebecca manages to get us a quiet table in a corner near the tile fireplace. We won’t have to shout and have less likelihood of being overheard.

After the drinks are ordered, she pulls out a legal pad. “Thought we could go over some strategies for the work. My thought is that you’ll work on the emails, social media, anything online and whatever documents we can upload. That way, while you’re traveling, you’ll have plenty of material to access.”

“That would be great. I’ve been anxious about being away at such a crucial point in my career.”

The pencil between Rebecca’s fingers moves up and down like a seesaw. “Thanks to technology. Years ago we were tied to the office, the library. I’m glad you can go to the awards ceremony. Kind of like the Oscars for authors.”

“Yeah. Still five working days away…”

“Our new legal research assistant is already busy organizing everything as documentation comes in.”

A Paris Rose is put in front of Rebecca, who pushes her legal pad to the side, but not before a few drops splash onto the paper, leaving a light pink trail. My Jabberwock is in a coupe. She takes a sip just as the cheese board is deposited in the middle of the table along with a basket of fried pickles. Cheese is a magnet for me. My grabby fingers snatch some almost before the server gets the platter on the table.

“Simon Greenberg is an attorney with Talcott, Maier, and current Republican candidate for Senate from Illinois. The SEC received a tip claiming he made use of private information to trade stocks from several companies he represents. After an investigation, the Commission decided on civil charges. Unfortunately, because his candidacy has made him a public figure, criminal charges are pending as well. Maybe some questions about election finance too.”

“Wait. Shouldn’t Hayden be here?” Not that I want him, but if we’re a team, he deserves the same explanations.

“Hayden has already been briefed.”

Be professional. In control. Pretend it doesn’t matter.

“Oh. I see.” But I don’t. Not at all.

Rebecca takes a huge swallow of the pink liquid. “Not by me. After our meeting, Tyler and Fred took Hayden to lunch and briefed him there.”

How does she know? Or is this an assumption? My heated protest escapes before I can rein it in. “But it’s your case.”

She waves the comment away. “He was so full of himself when he got back. Swanned into my office. ‘Simon Greenberg, huh. I wondered after the rumors flying around. Good for us.’ Then he laughed and walked out.” Her scowl could freeze the Chicago River. “I was sure Tyler at least would make sure he’s up to speed and I wanted to get you in the loop right away. I wouldn’t be surprised if Fred and Tyler didn’t give Hayden some instruction on how to handle things and he will take advantage of the time you are away in April.”

My cocktail beckons and I chug it down, sputtering slightly. “Should I cancel the trip?”

She ignores that. “You’ll meet the client tomorrow, so make a strong impression. You’ll have plenty of work to do while you’re out of the office. Get your laptop set up with VPN. It will be your lifeline to the firm. Video meetings will help too. Make sure you can report on progress every day. A strong impression while you’re in Paris will give you a leg up.”

We see the waiter in the distance and Rebecca catches his attention. Once we have refills, she takes a sip, then leans forward. “Show you’re dedicated to the firm and the case and that you can work without supervision. I’ll try to schedule the meetings first thing in the morning to mitigate the seven-hour time difference.”

“And the other complications?”

“Hayden is one, as I’m sure you’ve guessed. More in terms of your selection as partner. That will be decided long before the case is finished. But he’ll push for every plum he can pluck. The other is that because of the election cycle, Greenberg is pushing to get this cleared up or buried quickly. News of the pending charges will hit the papers tomorrow.”

Why haven’t they leaked already?

Rebecca must be a mind reader. “The papers are planning front-page splashes with stories, commentary, and reactions on at least two inside pages.”

I can picture the Tribune. Huge headline and photos on their broadsheet front page. Stories about the investigation, the campaign, lots of background on the candidate, a piece where the rest of the field comments. Then an editorial on the op-ed pages. Maybe a political cartoon. The Sun-Times tabloid format will be just as comprehensive in a more compact form. “Collusion?”

“Cooperation.” Her forehead wrinkles, brows touching. The corners of her mouth turn down.

“Keeping him from making incendiary comments is going to be a job in itself. We want as little coverage as possible while we work on clearing him—if we can. The damage to his reputation is a gift to the other contenders. He’s been the front runner, the poster boy for the party.”

In two swallows, the Jabberwock has disappeared. I order another, then cram more cheese into my mouth.

“Hey, guys. Didn’t get the memo.” Hayden pushes into the tufted leather booth and reaches for a pickle, almost knocking me to the floor. “Uncle Tyler thought you might be here, Rebecca. Said it’s your usual watering hole.”

“A casual afterwork drink.” Rebecca’s voice is flat.

Hayden reaches over and taps her legal pad. “Sure you aren’t strategizing?” The twinkle in his eye shows malice, not amusement. “By the way, I met Laney this afternoon. She’s a cutie.”

“Laney?” The name is unfamiliar.

With a leer, he says, “Our legal researcher. Fresh out of her paralegal program.”

The server comes by with my third drink.

“Are you running a tab?”

Rebecca nods.

“Two Satan’s Whiskers. Need to play catch up with these two.” His smirk makes my skin crawl.

“How appropriate.”

He snickers. My snarky comment bounces off his crocodile hide.

Before the drinks guy can take off, I hold up a hand. “I’d like to order something to go.”

Pad out, he looks a bit like a bird, head to the side.

“Shrimp cocktail with no sauce, and the Apple Salad. Just put the shrimp on top of the salad with the dressing on the side.”

“You got it.”

Hayden puffs out his chest like a pouter pigeon. “Me, I have a date as soon as I finish these truly spectacular drinks.”

“Drinks named just for you.”

He grins. “You know it. Scary but seductive. And I have some seducing on tap.”

Probably with our new researcher. I push the sour feelings back. “Have fun.”

“Oh, I intend to.”

Rebecca’s warning look doesn’t make any impression either. She grabs her coat off the empty seat. “Off to have dinner with my hubby. He’s cooking tonight.”

I trudge to the office, takeout container in hand, ready for a little research of my own.

***

Excerpt from At the Ready by Sharon Michalove. Copyright 2023 by Sharon Michalove. Reproduced with permission from Sharon Michalove. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Sharon Michalove

Sharon Michalove writes romantic suspense and traditional mystery as well as being a published historian. After growing up in suburban Chicago, she spent most of her life in a medium-sized university town, working as an academic professional as well as teaching history. She was married to a composer and frequently uses her knowledge of music, history, and food to enrich her novels. A hockey fan, Sharon moved back to Chicago in 2017 so she could go to Blackhawks games and spend quality time at Eataly Chicago.

Catch Up With Sharon:
CoffeeAndEclairs.com
Goodreads
BookBub – @sdmichalove
Instagram – @sdmichaloveauthor
Twitter – @sdmichalove
Facebook – @sharonmichalove
AllAuthor – @sharonmichalove

 

 

Tour Participants:

Check out these other featured stops for more entries and fantastic opportunities to WIN!

 

 

JOIN IN ON THE GIVEAWAY!

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

 

 

Get More Great Reads at Partners In Crime Tours

 

  • 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 – The Adventures Of Lefty and Righty by Lori Orlinsky @ireadbooktours


 

Book Details:

Book Title:  The Adventures of Lefty & Righty: The Windy City by Lori Orlinsky
Category:  Children’s Fiction (Ages 3-7),  38 pages
Genre:  Children’s Picture Book
Publisher:  Mascot Books
Release date:   Mar 7, 2023
Content Rating:  G for everyone.
Book Description:

Do you ever wonder what happens to socks that get lost in the dryer? Join Lefty and Righty for the adventure of a lifetime as they sneak out of the laundry room with a destination in mind: a White Sox game! But with so much to do in The Windy City, will they make it to the game in time? Through their fun-filled day, they’ll discover the sights, sounds—and even the tastes—of Chicago, all while encountering a few surprises along the way!

Meet the Author:

Award-winning children’s book author Lori Orlinsky lives in. . . you guessed it . . . Chicago! Lori is the mother of three little ladies, who are small but mighty. At 5’1”, she wishes her children’s picture book, Being Small (Isn’t So Bad After All), was around when she was growing up. Lori also wrote The Tooth Fairy’s Tummy Ache and Balloons for Tiger. Her latest book, The Adventures of Lefty and Righty: The Windy City, was inspired by her daily struggle to find matching socks when they come out of the dryer.

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

Lori Orlinsky’s ADVENTURES OF LEFTY AND RIGHTY Book Tour Giveaway



  • 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 – The Rebirth by V P Evans @XpressoTours

The Rebirth
V.P. Evans
Publication date: March 16th 2023
Genres: Adult, Suspense, Thriller

A traumatized father seeks justice for his son’s death.

A fallen man seeks atonement for his mistakes.

A cryptic path hides all the answers.

And so much more …

For the past decade, Mark has been living like an alcoholic druggy, loathing himself for not having the power to protect his son from the hands of these goddamn monsters.

For the past decade, Jason has been living a reclusive life, doomed by his enemies to spend the rest of his bland days in isolation till the illness seizes his last breath.

For the past decade, Mark and Jason haven’t seen each other.

But everything is about to change …

A murder brings them together tonight, trapped among the streets of Chicago in the search for redemption by following a mystical path that could unlock the darkest scandal in history. As the path unrolls secrets buried in works like these of Nietzsche, Plato, and Aristotle, the shadiest aspects of the human soul come to the surface, and soon both men realize that those who are hunting them, closing by with each passing minute, are equally dangerous with the ghosts of the past …

Goodreads / Amazon

EXCERPT:

PROLOGUE

Thursday, March 16, 2023

10:49 p.m.

Chicago, Illinois

His time was up. He knew it. The bullet to his stomach had already soaked his pants with blood, and he could feel the warmth of it running into his shoes.

He staggered among the tall trees, pressing a hand over the hole, but that only pushed the blood out faster between his fingers. He managed a few more steps, as though his body still believed it could survive—but he collapsed. His cheek scraped against the wet grass. Damp leaves froze his face. A bug jumped out of the ground, tickling his nostrils.

His gaze climbed up the thick, naked tree branches. Far to the north, along Lake Michigan’s shoreline, vibrant lights fought to master the night sky, and eminent towers of steel and glass waved from the Loop.

Thrusting with his legs, he lugged his body toward the lake’s edge. Less than ten feet away.

Wet muck soaked his white shirt. His arms shoveled the ground, spoiling the blanket of green with deep, muddled brown lines. His hands sank into the soil, molding balls of dirt and grass in each fist.

A muffled chuckle echoed from behind. The man who’d shot him stepped closer.

Dermot Walsh always knew it would end like this—a lifetime of countless crimes had inscribed his name on a great number of bullets, but each had missed him.

Till now.

Maybe this disturbing feeling wasn’t exactly fear, but a sick curiosity about the person who’d end his days.

He tried to roll his body over. The bullet burned, twisting in his gut. But the pain couldn’t hold him back. He had to see his executioner. He pushed his body up and finally turned.

Pitch darkness consumed Burnham Park. Scattered pale lamps barely lit the hulking hitman who was approaching slowly, gun raking in his left hand. His chest suffocated in the tightly fitted suit—the buttons ready to hurl and his buff arms almost tearing the fabric apart.

“Who are you?” Walsh tried to ask. The blood had filled his throat, and he coughed some of it over his chin.

The hitman kneeled over him. His face lacked color, and hair including eyebrows or a beard. He was just a soulless, fey, creepy figure shrouded in the shadows.

“Mr. Walsh.” The ghost’s voice was clear, steady. “We gave you everything, but you wanted more. For years we’ve waited to repay your vanity.”

What? Those words … how could they be true? In his thoughts, a single name popped up—Jason.

Something happened. The hitman raised his head, then scurried off, somewhere into the park.

Walsh’s bleary vision offered nothing more than faint images: his BMW parked nearby. Through the half-opened, smashed rear door, the last member of his personal security detail was hanging, attempting to grab the gun in front of him. The other two were already corpses.

Who was he? Walsh wondered. Harry? Jorge? It was impossible to recognize the man under the mask of dripping blood.

“Ha, ha, naughty little piggy,” the bald hitman snickered, marching over to the bloody-faced man.

Confused about what he’d just heard, Walsh thrust a hand into his jacket pocket, searching for his cell phone.

He grasped it. He tried to—ugh, he didn’t have the strength. Unable to pull it completely from his pocket, he struggled to type the message. The screen was barely visible. His eyes were burning. All he could see was a white fog.

He touched the screen with his fingers, but he couldn’t feel anything. He couldn’t even say if he was typing or if this whole attempt was just an illusion of his frigging mind.

He strived to focus, but with each passing second, his senses surrendered to the cold hug of death.

He had to make it. This was his only shot at naming his murderers.

The mouth of the hitman’s gun made a dull sound as he pulled the trigger, taking the life of the bloody-faced man.

Walsh didn’t have any more time. He hoped he’d keyed and sent the drafted message, though he feared he hadn’t.

Steps gouged the ground as the hitman was pacing toward him.

Walsh directed his eyes toward the lake. Its special beauty had always been a comfort to him, and now its peaceful waters were calling him with their serene song of silence. Gritting his teeth, he funneled every scintilla of his remaining strength into moving his damn hand. He couldn’t flex it, so he stretched it all the way to the right till it touched the cold water. He felt the need to groan, but air refused to enter his lungs. He plunged his hand into the water and opened his palm wide, praying that the cell phone had actually reached the lake, carrying the faith that the night wouldn’t end with his death. Instead, his death would be the beginning … Jason.

The hitman stood before him, winking and aiming his gun mockingly.

Then a thick cloud enveloped Walsh’s body.

Author Bio:

Wandering around small towns and cozy villages in faraway lands, V.P. Evans tastes the manifold flavors of this planet and, somewhere down the road, finds himself charmed by the few who live passionately or disappointed as darkness surrounds societies and people. He then sits down and starts to write.

Website / Goodreads / Bookbub


GIVEAWAY!
a Rafflecopter giveaway


  • 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!

The Spotlight Is On The Scoundrel by Delta James @XpressoTours

The Scoundrel
Delta James
(Club Southside, #1)
Publication date: February 17th 2023
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

Danger and desire go hand in hand…

Welcome to Club Southside. Cerberus has opened an office in Chicago over the Club. The team takes on the jobs no one else wants. They handle everything from protection, covert rescue operations, cyber-crime to reconnaissance and more. These men are driven and deadly, willing to do what is needed to complete their missions and to protect the women they love.

A fast-paced romantic suspense series of interconnected standalone books that will leave you on the edge of your seat.

Add to Goodreads / Pre-order


Author Bio:

As a USA Today bestselling romance author, Delta James aims to captivate readers with stories about complex,curvy heroines and the dominant alpha males who adore them. For Delta, romance is more than just a love story; it’s a journey with challenges and thrills along the way.

After creating a second chapter for herself that was dramatically different than the first, Delta now resides in Florida where she relaxes on warm summer evenings with her loveable pack of basset hounds as they watch the birds, squirrels and lizards. When not crafting fast-paced tales, she enjoys horseback riding, walks on the beach, and white-water rafting.

More about Delta, including a full list of her books and audiobooks, can be found at www.deltajames.com.

Her readers mean the world to her, and Delta tries to interact personally to as many messages as she can. If you’d like to chat or discuss books, you can find Delta on Instagram, Facebook, and in her private reader group https://www.facebook.com/groups/348982795738444.

If you’re looking for your next bingeable series, you can get a FREE story by joining her newsletter https://www.subscribepage.com/VIPlist22019.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook Page / Facebook Group / Instagram / Newletter / Amazon



  • 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’s 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 – A Spying Eye by Michelle Cox @iReadBookTours @michellecox33



Book Details:

Book Title A Spying Eye: A Henrietta and Inspector Howard Novel by Michelle Cox
Category:  Adult Fiction (18+), 256 pages
Genre Historical Mystery
Publisher She Writes Press
Release dates:   Oct 25, 2022
Content Rating: R:
 There are some swear words peppered throughout (not many) and 2 explicit sex scenes (tasteful, but more than a PG-13 scene)


Book Description:

In A Spying Eye, Clive and Henrietta return to Europe in an attempt to resurrect their failed honeymoon. While in London, they are approached by their old friend, Inspector John Hartle, who convinces them to search for the missing panel of the Ghent Altarpiece, a famous Renaissance painting, of which Hitler’s top men are also in pursuit.

Meanwhile, back in Chicago, Oldrich Exley threatens to cut off financial support for the entire Von Harmon brood if Elsie continues with her plan to marry Gunther―a situation made worse by the sudden appearance of one Heinrich Meyer, who claims to be little Anna’s father and threatens to take her away. Desperate, Elsie seeks the help of Clive’s sister, Julia, who is herself the victim of domestic abuse and who has fallen under the spell of a handsome Texas millionaire bent on acquiring a rare painting from the Howard collection.

Clive and Henrietta’s search takes them to Chateau du Freudeneck in Strasbourg, France―the ancient seat of the Von Harmons and home to three eccentric distant relatives. What begins as a wild goose chase turns decidedly more deadly when several Nazi officers also arrive at the chateau in search of a “valuable item.” When Henrietta and Clive attempt to flee after Henrietta uncovers a shocking truth, they are forced to trust themselves to a suspicious French servant who seems all-too willing to help . . .

Buy the Book:
Amazon ~ Apple B&N
BookBub
add to goodreads



Meet the Author:

Michelle Cox is the author of the Henrietta and Inspector Howard series as well as “Novel Notes of Local Lore,” a weekly blog dedicated to Chicago’s forgotten residents. Her books have won over 50 international awards and have been praised by Kirkus, Library Journal, Publishers Weekly, Booklist, Foreword, Elle, Redbook, Brit&Co., POPSUGAR, Buzzfeed, and many others.

Unbeknownst to most, Michelle hoards board games she doesn’t have time to play and is, not surprisingly, addicted to period dramas and big band music. Also marmalade. She lives in Chicago with her husband, three children, and one naughty Goldendoodle and is hard at work on her latest novel. 

Connect with the Author:  website ~ facebook ~ twitter ~ instagram ~ tiktok ~ goodreads ~ bookbub


Enter the Giveaway:

A Spying Eye Book Tour Giveaway

  • 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’.
  • Product images are linked/I am an Amazon affiliate.
  • Thanks for visiting fundinmental!
  • Giveaway – In Danger Of Judgment by David Rabin @partnersincr1me

    In Danger of Judgment by David Rabin Banner

    In Danger of Judgment

    by David Rabin

    August 8 – September 2, 2022 Virtual Book Tour

    In Danger of Judgment

    Amazon

    Synopsis:

    When a covert operation during the Vietnam War ends in tragedy, one of its members resolves to kill the man who betrayed it to the enemy. Now, fifteen years later, he’ll finally get his chance.

    Chicago, 1987. Home of mediocre baseball teams, gangs that rule the streets, and a Mexican drug cartel that supplies the city with heroin. Chicago Police Detective Marcelle DeSantis and her partner, Bernie Bernardelli, are working a series of heroin-related murders, and their job just got more complicated. The man who sabotaged the Vietnam operation, Robert Thornton, is now the chief enforcer for a Southeast Asian heroin cartel, and after fifteen years overseas he’s arrived in Chicago to eliminate the reigning cartel and seize control of the city’s heroin trade.

    Racing to stop a drug war, Marcelle and Bernie don’t realize they’re about to be caught in a deadly crossfire: another man is circling in the wings, one of Thornton’s soldiers from Vietnam, who’s preparing to exact his long-sought revenge against his former mentor. He’s the last person anyone would ever suspect, and when he finally makes his move, the paths of these four people will explosively converge.

    Praise for In Danger of Judgment:

    In Danger of Judgment does a masterful job of juggling multiple, full-blooded characters through high-octane storytelling as they make their way to a shocking, violent ending. David Rabin is a name that is sure to become familiar among lovers of best-selling, full-throttle thrillers”

    ––David Shawn Klein, award-winning author of The Money

    “Mr. Rabin brings a fresh set of characters to the tried-and-true crime drama, and his breezy narrative style and crackling dialogue kept me turning the pages well past my bedtime.”

    ––Ronald Aiken, author of Death Has Its Benefits and former president of The Atlanta Writers

    “Kudos to Mr. Rabin on the high quality of the prose, the thrilling plot with a twist and surprise ending, and the extensive research that went into this novel. I highly recommend it.”

    ––Jill Caugherty, author of Waltz in Swing Time

    “Well-developed characters drive Rabin’s taut thriller. . . . the story builds to a lengthy, sensational final act, brimming with well-earned suspense”

    ––Kirkus Reviews

    “A stunning debut, David Rabin’s In Danger of Judgment is an engrossing page-turner. Shocking twists barrel full-speed into an action-packed and tense crime thriller readers won’t see coming…. Builds an intricately-plotted crime thriller that’s cinematic and wildly compelling. The author’s prose is concise and ‘unputdownable,’ skilled at giving a tangible sense of the time period these characters inhabit.”

    ––IndieReader

    Book Details:

    Genre: Crime Thriller
    Published by: Black Rose Writing
    Publication Date: August 4th 2022
    Number of Pages: 369
    ISBN: 1685130593 (ISBN13: 9781685130596)
    Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads | Black Rose Writing

    Don’t Miss this Video Trailer

    Read an excerpt:

    Prologue

    1968 – 1972
    South Vietnam

    The eight men filing into the Tactical Operations Center had six days’ beard growth, they reeked of sweat and jungle, and their clothes were smeared with soil and grime and still-wet enemy blood.

    Major Henry Sampson waited for them at a table at the rear of the TOC, as far away as they could get from the beeping, static, and chatter of the radios. The men settled themselves around the table and didn’t wait for Sampson to ask a question. They’d just completed their fourth mission, and by now they knew the debriefing procedure.

    “Eleven,” said the first man.

    In due course, Sampson would steer them to other aspects of the mission, but they always started with what was most important: the number of enemy killed in action.

    Sampson had had a rude awakening a few years earlier, during his first tour in South Vietnam. He was a West Point man, a professional soldier to the core, but Vietnam was a war unlike any he’d prepared for. In every war America had ever fought, the objective was to capture and hold territory, but in Vietnam, that was never the goal. The only metric that mattered was the body count.

    “Tell me about the first one,” Sampson said.

    “Sentry in the southwest sector. Older than usual, thirties, maybe, leaning against a tree with a Chicom AK slung over his shoulder. He wasn’t even scanning, just gazing into the distance, probably thinking about his old lady back in Hanoi. I snake-crawled from the rear, put my hand over his mouth, and pulled back. Three stabs and a slash through the neck. No sound.”

    The man described the rest of his kills and then they went around the table. By the time they finished, the count reached 102. It was a good night’s work.

    Sometimes the body count was so high that Sampson wondered whether they were exaggerating, but he questioned them carefully and they convinced him the count was true. When the two guys from the Department of Defense had given him the assignment, he didn’t dream the men would kill so many.

    * * *

    The DOD men had arrived by helicopter on a soggy December morning in 1968, late in the rainy season at Phu Bai, South Vietnam, where Sampson was stationed with the 101st Airborne Division. They weren’t in uniform, but from the way they exited the Huey—quickly and gracefully—Sampson could tell they’d spent some time in the bush.

    There was no fanfare on their arrival. That was by design. Sampson had been told the men would meet with him and then leave, and the fewer the people that knew about the meeting, the better.

    The DOD men introduced themselves as Robinson and Reese, and it occurred to Sampson that whoever gave them their code names must have been a Dodgers fan. They wore identical navy-blue suits, white shirts, muted ties, and blank expressions. Robinson was black and Reese was white, but otherwise they could have been twins.

    Sampson took them to his hooch, a rudimentary structure of plywood elevated a foot off the ground and divided into four living quarters. Inside, the décor was olive drab, drab being the operative word. Sampson’s corner had a cot, a small desk, makeshift shelves, a locker, and a table fan.

    He pulled over a couple of folding chairs for the two men to sit on. Sampson wished he had a conference room befitting their importance, but the hooch was the only venue at the base where they could be assured of privacy. He’d made sure that the other three officers who lived there would be absent for the meeting’s duration.

    Reese got it started as Robinson shook a Marlboro out of a hard pack and lit it with a Zippo. “We’re going to tell you some stuff you may already know, but bear with us. We’ll get to the good part shortly.”

    Sampson sat up straight and did his best to look attentive. “I’m at your disposal, sir.”

    “When you got here,” Reese said, “you were fighting the Viet Cong and the North Vietnamese Army. The VC are still around, but we hit them so hard during Tet that they’re no longer a major threat to the South. That’s why you’re now focused on the NVA.”

    Robinson took the baton. “The NVA’s constantly moving men and supplies down the Ho Chi Minh Trail, infiltrating into the South, probing for weaknesses. Occasionally, they attack us and the South Vietnamese, and then they hightail it back to the North. Now, we both know that in a war you’re supposed to pursue the enemy, take the fight to them instead of the other way around. That’s how it’s always been done, but this is Vietnam, where nothing gets done the way it’s supposed to.”

    “We’re not allowed to send ground troops into the North,” Sampson said.

    Reese nodded. “That’s right, and it’s not because our civilian leadership is spineless, contrary to what you guys in-country may believe. North Vietnam has a great, big patron on its northern border called Communist China. In ’64, the Chinese told us that if we sent boots north of the 17th parallel, they’d intervene on behalf of their North Vietnamese comrades. Meaning, they’d send a few million Red Chinese soldiers down south, just like they did in Korea when we drove too far north, and we all know how that turned out for us.”

    “Not real well.”

    “Yeah. Not real well. We want to help the South Vietnamese, but we don’t want to start World War Three. Frustrating for us, frustrating for you.”

    “I don’t make policy, sir. My duty is to follow orders and execute the mission.”

    “I’m glad you mentioned that,” Robinson said, “because we came here to give you a mission.”

    “Sir?”

    Robinson stubbed out his cigarette and leaned forward. “You are very quietly going to insert ground troops into North Vietnam.”

    They proceeded to tell him about the operation they wanted him to supervise: how the men would be selected, how they’d be trained, and the nature of the missions. They spoke for nearly an hour. Sampson listened intently, saying nothing. When they finished, they asked if he had any questions.

    He did indeed have a question, though he hesitated to ask it, fearing they might think him insolent. But it was such an obvious issue, he just had to ask. “Why go to all this effort? All this planning, the massive selection process, the special training? Why don’t you use the men you already have?”

    The DOD men looked at each other without a trace of reaction, communicated telepathically, and turned back to Sampson. “That’s above your pay grade,” Reese said, “but if you’re not comfortable with this op, we can find someone else.”

    Now Sampson wished he hadn’t asked, but he recovered quickly. “I can do it,” he said.

    “There’s one more thing. The body count is important—the higher the better, of course—and it needs to be accurate. You’ll have to drill it into the men to keep an accurate count. Can you do that, Major?”

    “I can do it.”

    Sampson thought the whole thing was a crock, just another foolhardy operation in a senseless war. But they got through the selection process and trained the men, and when they were finally let loose on their missions, they surpassed everyone’s expectations. The body counts were staggering.

    * * *

    It was now late 1972, and Team One was nearing the end of its sixth mission. The Huey had inserted them six nights ago. They’d spent three nights approaching the target camp, followed by three nights of recon. Seven of them would attack the camp, and the eighth would remain just outside the camp’s perimeter to cover them as they withdrew.

    They wore no insignia and bore no identification, all to give the government plausible deniability if things went south. For the same reason, they never called each other by name during their missions. They were Ares Numbers One through Eight, a bit of theater they deemed absurd but acquiesced to nonetheless.

    They killed time with the usual idle chatter: their favorite bands, best road trips, girlfriends good and bad. In their three years together, they’d told the same stories so many times that the telling was no longer the point. It was how they reinforced the bonds among them.

    “Okay, guys,” Ares One said, “fifteen minutes till go time.”

    They synched their watches, and as they went through one last gear check, Four addressed the elephant in the room. “The war’s almost over, so this is probably our last mission.”

    Silence. No one wanted to talk about it.

    “You know I’m right,” Four continued. “The Paris peace talks are barreling down the tracks. Kissinger went on TV and said peace is at hand.” He absent-mindedly checked his M16 again. “When we started out, I thought you guys were a bunch of losers, and now I don’t want it to end.”

    “Jesus, you’re a downer,” Five said. “Look, when we get back, we’ll do it up right. Get us a case of that black-market champagne, put on some CCR and turn it all the way up.”

    “Temptations,” said Seven.

    Everyone laughed. Seven loved Motown.

    “Enough of this shit,” Three said. “If this is our last mission, I don’t want the perimeter again. I want some action. Lemme be on the assault team.”

    Two shook his head. “If Sampson and Thornton find out you violated the orders—”

    “Fuck ’em,” Three said. “What’re they gonna do, fire me?”

    No one had a response to that unassailable logic, and Three turned to Six. “Let me take your place,” Three said. “Take the easy duty tonight.”

    Six looked at the others. They all nodded.

    Three and Six exchanged weapons and ammo, Six getting the sniper kit. They all gave each other thumbs-up, and the seven men on the assault team moved silently into their assigned sectors.

    Six checked his watch. The men would breach in twenty minutes and return one hour after that. He had nothing to do now but wait.

    He stared into the darkness, listening to the sounds of the jungle and imagining the men—

    Gunfire.

    There should not have been gunfire.

    It was not the treble staccato of American M16s. It was the bass thuds of Chinese AKs.

    The gunfire ended abruptly, and then all was silent.

    A flood of thoughts coursed through his brain.

    His friends were dead.

    The enemy had known they were coming, and so the enemy knew he was here.

    And now, the enemy would come for him.

    * * *

    Sampson sat in his hooch, drinking his fourth Scotch of the night. The operation had gone along like clockwork until that bastard Thornton went rogue, the chief instructor selling out his own men.

    The higher-ups had immediately terminated the entire operation, and Sampson could just imagine the hysteria now playing out at DOD. First, there would be recriminations. Who picked Thornton? Who vetted him? How in the hell did no one foresee this? Then they’d have to invent stories to tell the families, explaining why the bodies of their sons and brothers weren’t coming home. They’d prime people to describe how heroically the men had died, so the families would buy it and not inquire further. And once the cover-up started, they’d have to cover up the cover-up. It would feed on itself and grow exponentially until the cover-up itself was more important than the events that birthed it.

    As distasteful as it was, Sampson knew there was nothing else they could do. If the public ever learned the whole story, there’d be more heads rolling at DOD than bowling balls at the local alley on dollar night.

    * * *

    Three weeks after the operation ended, the DOD men visited Sampson again.

    In the four years since he’d last seen them, Sampson’s world had changed dramatically. The war was winding down and would end soon—and for Sampson, that was a problem. The way to get ahead in the military was to serve in a war zone. He’d done multiple tours in Vietnam, but once this war ended, who knew when there would be another one? He would have to find a way to make himself invaluable.

    When the DOD men arrived, they looked just the same as before, all the way down to their navy-blue suits and inscrutable faces. They assured Sampson that no one blamed him for the unfortunate way the operation had ended. They complimented him on how well he’d run it, and on the results the men had obtained. A promotion to lieutenant colonel was already in the works.

    When he heard the word “promotion,” Sampson knew they were about to get to the real point of the meeting. Guys like them always dangled a prize before asking for something.

    “There are two other things,” Robinson said. “DOD wants to keep the operation and its outcome confidential.”

    No kidding, Sampson thought. “What else?”

    “The upper echelon at DOD considers the remaining men to be somewhat unstable.”

    “What you mean is, you think they’re crazy.”

    “However one puts it, given their, uh, mental disposition, we consider it prudent to monitor them until the last of them has passed away.”

    Sampson saw the logic of it. “Where do I fit in?”

    “The perpetuation of secrecy and the observation of the men are related tasks, and we need someone to oversee both. We’d be pleased if you could do that, at least until your retirement, which we hope will be many years from now. Can you do that, Major?”

    At that moment, Sampson saw his future.

    These assignments were delicate. They were critical. They would last the rest of his career.

    They were giving him a way to make himself invaluable.

    He took his time and pretended to think about it, not wanting to look too eager, then slowly nodded.

    “I can do it,” Sampson said, though it would be another fifteen years before he’d discover just how complicated it could get.

    Chapter 1

    Sunday, May 10, 1987
    8:02 p.m.
    Chicago

    Marcelle leaned against the railing of an apartment building at the south end of the 3700 block of Wilton Avenue, waiting for someone, though not for anyone in particular. She’d been there for five minutes and decided to wait another two before moving on.

    The street was deserted, the residents having battened down the hatches in anticipation of twilight. An empty Old Style can rolled down the street in a grating, metallic rhythm, pushed by the wind coming off Lake Michigan a mile to the east. The only sign of life was the rumbling of an L train on the tracks a half-block from where she stood. The neighborhood seemed peaceful, though she knew its tranquility could be deceiving.

    She was about to give up on this spot when two men in their late teens rounded the corner at the other end of the block and began walking toward her. They wore the gray and black colors of the area’s predominant street gang, the Latin Eagles, and they walked with a slow swagger as if they owned the place, which they pretty much did. One was taller and one was shorter, and thus became, in her lexicon, Mr. Tall and Mr. Short.

    The instant they saw her, they broke into big smiles and started conversing energetically. She’d gotten their attention. It didn’t surprise her, because she was accustomed to getting attention. She was about five-eight and in her late twenties, with dark brown hair that barely touched her shoulders and a face that belonged on a magazine cover. Tonight she wore a light coat that was open at the front. Marcelle always dressed for success.

    The men were five steps away now.

    She put her right hand in her coat pocket.

    Que pasa, mami chula,” said Mr. Tall.

    They walked back and forth around her from opposite sides, examining her from head to toe and leering at her, no doubt expecting she’d panic and try to extricate herself.

    Except she didn’t.

    Instead, she smiled at them.

    It was a beautiful, radiant, magazine-cover smile, and because it was the last thing they’d expected, they froze in their tracks.

    Her hand came out of her coat pocket.

    It held a badge case.

    “Detective Marcelle DeSantis,” she said, “and I want you to know I do appreciate the compliment.”

    Mierda,” said Mr. Short.

    “We don’t talk to police,” said Mr. Tall.

    Her smile turned into a pout. “A minute ago, you thought I was sexy, and now you don’t even want to talk to me? My feelings are hurt.”

    The men looked dumbfounded. Marcelle figured no police had ever spoken to them that way, and she took the opening. “I’m not here to hassle you guys. You’re just two fine-looking dudes strolling down the street. Fact is, I need your help.”

    Now they looked intrigued. “Help with what?” asked Short.

    “I want to find the guy who killed your friends. Hector, Ramon, Angel, and Luis.”

    “We take care of our own business,” said Tall.

    “That’s good to know. Have you found the guy yet?”

    Again, they were speechless.

    “I know you want to find the guy who did it,” Marcelle said. “You want revenge, and you want people to know they shouldn’t screw with the Latin Eagles. The problem is, you won’t find him on your own.”

    “Why not?” asked Tall.

    “Because he’s a pro and you guys aren’t exactly Sherlock Holmes. If he gets found, it’s going to be the Chicago Police Department that does it.”

    Tall shrugged. “We don’t know anything.”

    “Okay,” she said, “but maybe you’ll remember something or hear something.”

    “What do we get if we help you?” Short asked.

    Now she knew she was getting somewhere. When they asked for something, it meant they were interested.

    “I’ll tell you what you’ll get. If we convict the guy, he’ll get a life sentence or death row. Either way, he’ll go to a prison. Probably Pontiac, Stateville, or Joliet, and you’ve got members in all three. I’m sure your buddies will give him a warm welcome when he arrives.”

    It was the men’s turn to smile.

    “I’m gonna go now,” Marcelle said, “but I want you to remember something. I didn’t give you any shit. I didn’t ask for ID or search you. I treated you like men because that’s what you are.”

    They nodded their agreement.

    “Here’s how I work,” she continued. “You play straight with me and I play straight with you. As long as you’re law-abiding, I’ll treat you like you live on Lake Shore Drive.” She handed each man a card. “If you learn anything that might help us, call me. I don’t know your names and you won’t have to give them.”

    The men pocketed the cards. Short looked ready to leave, but Tall stood still, his face gripped in concentration, as if trying to recall something from long ago.

    Now, he looked like he remembered.

    He stood up straight and looked her squarely in the eyes. “It was good to meet you, Detective. Have a nice night.”

    ***

    Excerpt from In Danger of Judgment by David Rabin. Copyright 2022 by David Rabin. Reproduced with permission from David Rabin. All rights reserved.

     

     

    Author Bio:

    David Rabin

    DAVID RABIN was born in Chicago and raised in its Lakeview neighborhood. He later moved to Atlanta, where he worked as a trial lawyer for thirty-three years. Now retired, he writes fiction, runs a competitive shooting program, and competes in rifle sports, including the discipline of Highpower Rifle, in which he holds two High Master classifications. He and his wife, a former clinical social worker, have two grown sons. In Danger of Judgment is his first novel.

    Catch Up With David Rabin:
    DavidRabinAuthor.com
    Goodreads
    Facebook – @DavidRabinAuthor

     

     

    Tour Participants:

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

     

     

     

    ENTER TO WIN:

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

     

     

    Get More Great Reads at Partners In Crime Tours

     

    • 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!