Giveway – Dragon Head by James Houston Turner @rubyrockfilms @partnersincr1me

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Dragon Head by James Houston Turner Banner

 

 

Dragon Head

by James Houston Turner

on Tour May 1-31, 2020

Synopsis:

Dragon Head by James Houston Turner

“TURNER BARELY PAUSES FOR BREATH IN THIS EXCITING THRILL RIDE.”

Publisher’s Weekly

One-and-a-half billion dollars vanishes out of a numbered account into a cyberspace maze. But the thief who stole it lies dead on the tracks of Hong Kong’s Mass Transit Railway, his access codes having perished with him.

If it were simply a matter of missing money, the United States would not be concerned. But a Hong Kong crime boss named Dragon Head wants the money to fund an army of hackers, one of whom has already penetrated America’s GPS network. The result: a midair collision that kills more than a thousand people.

With national security at stake, the Director of National Intelligence becomes very interested in the whereabouts of that money. He wants the funds to remain lost. But Dragon Head wants them found. And Colonel Aleksandr Talanov is caught in the middle.

Both sides believe Talanov knows where the money is. But Talanov doesn’t have a clue. So both sides threaten to kill his closest friends unless he locates and surrenders the money. It’s an impossible situation when impossible is not an option, because whatever choice Talanov makes, someone will die.

“Snappy dialogue … humor and heart … scenes crackling with life as Talanov races against the clock in this complex spy thriller that delivers charm and thrills.”

–John M. Murray, Foreword Reviews

“Dragon Head is an explosive story packed with plenty of action and excitement. Like all good spy stories, it’s unclear exactly what everyone is up to and who can actually be trusted. Facing threats on all sides, Talanov is a great hero to follow, tough and quick to dive into the action, but also smart and more than capable of outmaneuvering his enemies. Dragon Head is an exhilarating story that tackles contemporary issues … a top-notch thriller.”

–Erin Britton, The Manhattan Book Review

Book Details:

Genre: Action Thriller
Published by: Regis Books
Publication Date: May 1, 2020
Number of Pages:
ISBN: 978-0958666497
Series: Aleksandr Talanov Thriller #4
Purchase Links: Amazon, Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

CHAPTER 1

Wu Chee Ming looked anxiously behind him. Where were they? Who were they? When would they strike? An attack in a crowded street like this would be over in seconds. A silenced pistol. A knife. A needle. Death would be quick and the assassin would vanish. One face in an ocean of faces.

He was not even sure they were onto him. In fact, they probably weren’t. He had taken extreme care over the last few months to make sure his movements went undetected.

One does not seek what one does not see.

It was a proverb that guided his every move.

And yet, in spite of his meticulous planning, he had to proceed as if they had noticed, which was why he had chosen Lan Kwai Fong, a small, bustling tourist district in the heart of Hong Kong, to make his escape. The narrow streets of Lan Kwai Fong were perfect for what he was planning. Flashing neon. Music. Thousands of people surging in and out of nightclubs and restaurants. The perfect place to disappear.

The perfect place to be killed.

The proverb, however, held the secret to his survival; namely, that the best place to hide is often in plain sight. That people usually do not notice what is right in front of them. Hence, his choice to pass through Lan Kwai Fong each night on his way home from work, so his being here tonight would not attract any undue attention.

Suddenly, an elbow caught him in the chest and knocked him into a group of Chinese girls texting one another. They were holding their phones so close their eyes glistened with light from the tiny screens.

“Kàn tā!” one of them barked.

Wu Chee Ming pushed on.

Ahead, the street bent ninety degrees and sloped downhill for a short block before meeting D’Aguilar Street. Wu Chee Ming turned at the corner and threaded his way uphill along another street filled with partygoers. Within minutes, he reached a short flight of steps that branched away from the street. Taking the steps two at a time, he reached the top and began running along a darkened walkway that angled between a pair of highrise office towers. Before long, the sounds and smells of Lan Kwai Fong had receded into the distance.

Wu Chee Ming knew he would miss those sounds and smells. But at least he would be alive to remember them. He glanced behind but saw no one.

One does not seek what one does not see.

His survival hinged on the truth of that proverb, and yet if he truly believed it, why was he running? Why was he not relaxed in the knowledge that he was but another face in an ocean of faces?

Under normal conditions, Hong Kong was the perfect city in which to vanish. But these were not normal conditions. He was running from a crime boss who knew every inch of the island. A crime boss with eyes and ears everywhere. A crime boss so skilled in the art of death that some people considered it an honor to die by his hand. Dexter Moran was his name, although no one dared address him that way. To everyone in Hong Kong and the New Territories, he was known as Dragon Head, and he was the supreme leader of the Shí bèi organized crime society, which was based in the Zhongzhen Martial Arts Academy.

The name “Dragon Head” was actually a title that had been seized by Moran in the same manner a lion becomes the alpha male of his pride: by defeating or killing his rivals. And not just known rivals, but anyone suspected of being a threat. Which was why Wu Chee Ming had chosen to run. He wanted to make sure he was not among them.

Ahead, beside a tree, was an old bicycle. Wu Chee Ming had purchased it from a repair shop with instructions that it be placed beside the tree this afternoon. It had a basket above the front fender and a tiny dome bell on the handlebar. Lifting the bike onto the path, Wu Chee Ming walked it to an intersecting walkway, where he turned left, jumped on, and began pedaling. In less than a minute he emerged onto a busy street.

Like New York, Hong Kong was a city that never slept. Even at this late hour, cars filled the streets and the sidewalks were gorged with people. A few dings on his bell caused pedestrians to stop long enough for him to bicycle across the sidewalk and into the bicycle lane, where he turned left and began pedaling with the flow of traffic. He kept pace for two blocks, then cut across to the other side of the street, where he began pedaling with the flow of traffic in the other direction. He bicycled past noodle bars, restaurants, and retail outlets offering everything from designer clothing to electronics, phone cards, and cosmetics. Before long, he turned down a side street and raced to the next corner, where he turned right and raced to the next corner, where he turned again. The zigzag pattern took him away from the neon madness of the tourist district and into Hong Kong’s shadowed side streets.

Within twenty minutes, Wu Chee Ming had made his way to a four-story apartment building in a rundown part of Wan Chai. Unlike the glamour and polish of the financial precinct where he worked, this part of town was stained with the gloom of poverty. There were no gleaming office towers of tinted glass. No stepped terraces with architectural flourishes. The buildings were rectangular and squat. Rust and soot were the predominant colors.

Leaning his bicycle against a metal roller door, Wu Chee Ming entered a darkened stairwell and dashed up a flight of steps. There were no lights in the stairwell because Wu Chee Ming had broken the bulbs. No one must remember his face to anyone asking questions. And there would be questions, and Dragon Head would be asking them. By that time, however, he would be long gone, which meant Dragon Head would have no choice but to hunt down the only other person who could give him answers. That person was former KGB colonel Aleksandr Talanov. Talanov, of course, would have no answers because he would not know what had happened. Torture would be employed, and Dragon Head would be merciless, but Talanov would not be able to reveal what he did not know. Yes, Talanov was a walking dead man, while he, Wu Chee Ming, was about to become a ghost.

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Excerpt from Dragon Head by James Houston Turner. Copyright 2020 by James Houston Turner. Reproduced with permission from James Houston Turner. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

James Houston Turner

Winner of numerous awards, including “Best Thriller,” bestselling author James Houston Turner is known for his Aleksandr Talanov series of spy novels. Talanov the fictional character was inspired by the actual KGB agent who once leaked word out of Moscow that James was on a KGB watchlist for his smuggling activities behind the old Iron Curtain. “His act of heroism – he could have been executed for what he did – gave me the idea of a good-guy KGB agent who became a spy for America,” Turner explains.

A native of Kansas, James Houston Turner has been writing since he was ten. After earning his bachelor’s degree from Baker University, he moved to Texas, where he earned his master’s degree from the University of Houston (Clear Lake). He then headed west to California, where his love of writing turned into a profession with publication of The Spud Book: 101 Ways to Cook Potatoes. Publisher’s Weekly called it “A cookbook with ap-peel.” Between TV cooking tours, he worked as a journalist at the famed Los Angeles Union Rescue Mission, where he revised their magazine, Lifeline, from a needs-based ministry appeal to a collection of interviews from the streets about changed lives. Those interviews included numerous victims of human trafficking. The magazine won several awards.

During this time, James also worked as a smuggler into Soviet-occupied Eastern Europe, where he transported tons of food, clothing, Bibles, and medical supplies, to needy hospitals and churches. While there, he interviewed many heroes of death camps, gulags, Siberian exile, persecution, illness, hardship, and torture, including assassination squads.

James is also a cancer survivor after doctors in Australia removed a tumor the size of an orange from his face. “I was told if I lived eighteen months I would probably live to be one hundred. That was in 1991, so I am happy to report I am well on my way toward that goal. These experiences continue to influence my storytelling, whether in novels, or, now, in film. My stories are ‘overcomer stories,’ because that’s what I’ve had to do, and is why I want my stories to leave people with the same hope and faith that strengthened me.”

As a self-published author who made the deliberate choice away from traditional avenues, he has accomplished what he calls “the writer’s dream” with a film option on one of his novels, Greco’s Game. He is also one of a small handful of writers who can function both as a novelist and a screenwriter, with two of his screenplays having also been optioned, with production on his projects scheduled to begin in 2020.

After nearly twenty years in Australia, James and his wife, Wendy, now live in Austin, Texas.

Catch Up With James Houston Turner On:
JamesHoustonTurner.world, IMDB, Goodreads, BookBub, Instagram, Twitter, & Facebook!

 

 

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This is a rafflecopter giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Virtual Book Tours for James Houston Turner. There will be 7 winners. One (1) winner will receive an Amazon.com Gift Card. Six (6) winners will receive DRAGON HEAD by James Houston Turner (print). The giveaway begins on May 1, 2020 and runs through June 2, 2020. Open to U.S. addresses only. Void where prohibited.

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Review of Changes by Charles Colyott

Changes – A Randall Lee Mystery by Charles Colyott

Changes -- A Randall Lee Mystery

 

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Yu Bei: Preparation.

Qi Shi: Begin.

Even after everything that has happened, I still practice Tai Chi every morning.

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I had heard the phone ring while doing my morning routine, but I let the answering machine pick it up. When I checked it, I found there were two calls from some cop, a Detective Knox. Said he had a few questions for me. After my shower, I grabbed another beer and headed down to the shop. I had told the detective to come on by in twenty minutes or so.

When a guy dressed like a character from Miami Vice walked in, I knew it was him. He was surprised that I was Caucasian. With a name like Randall Lee and  me running an Asian store, he thought I would be Asian.

When I was kicked off the police force, I opened a shop dealing with Asian remedies for health problems and treatments, such as acupuncture. I had grown up in Hong Kong, and during my time there, I had become proficient in both.

He told me there had been a murder of a Chinese prostitute and he needed a translator. No one would talk to him. The body had been found at the Taste of Asia shop in the bad part of town.  I could tell it had been staged as a mock funeral and they wanted her more than dead, they wanted her damned.

When I saw the body, she looked like a Smurf. The coroner said she probably died from a crushed larynx, but I knew he was wrong. Every blood vessel had burst. I told Knox I had seen something like this before. She was blue from head to toe because she was bruised, not  cyanotic.

Martial arts have some very specialized strikes. Things legends are made of. I showed them a pushing move that would compress and shatter the ribs, pop the lungs like balloons and crush the heart. The blood has nowhere to go, so it shoots outward and soaks into the muscles and tissues. If they were to check back later, they would see the blood had settled underneath her body. He had also missed that she was pregnant.

To me it was an assassination. A murder for hire. Who could be responsible? The Triad? It was unusual for something Triad related to happen in St. Louis.

When I returned to the store, Tracy and her friend were waiting. She had taken my business card and called back later to make an appointment. She had hurt her knee and was willing to give me the benefit of the doubt in treating it. She closed her eyes and I inserted the needle. She was amazed when she opened her eyes and saw I had done it and she never even felt it. I was having some very lewd thoughts about her and trying hard not to let them show.

When Knox stopped by the next day, he said Madam Chong, at the spa had kept saying deem mock. I told him it was just superstition, you know, the Death Touch. A secret deadly art. You touch someone in certain areas and they die hours later.  They had found her dead this morning. Heart attack. Yeah, right. With her dead, the investigation halted. When he left, he slipped me a copy of Mei Ling’s file. I guess, we both felt the same way, we weren’t done.

When I looked through my files, I saw where Madam Chong had come in for treatment. I had  never treated her for any heart problem. Back to the coroner’s office. Again I had to do his job for him. I showed him the one point that someone would have used to cause a heart attack and it wasn’t due to any martial arts. There was a hole in her elbow where someone had injected her with something. There was also adhesive around her mouth and wrists. I figured she was injected with Potassium, air or something similar, that couldn’t be traced.

Now we had two murders, one flashy and one not so much. One was planned and one was sloppy. Two different killers. Knox asked me why I would want to help and I, more or less, said why not.

Tracy came back for a check up and I sure was checking her out. I was old enough to be her father but was not having fatherly thoughts. I knew I couldn’t ask her out, but was surprised when she made the first move. I surprised myself even more by saying yes.

Triads are the Chinese Mafia. They start recruiting at a very young age. When I lived in Hong Kong, I used to get beat up a lot. One day a kid took a baseball bat to me. Someone stepped in to stop it. They called Wu Cai, a famous doctor, who used acupuncture, massage, and some herbs that allowed me to hide it from my dad.

I hung out at his place and bugged him so much, he took me under his wing. It all started with learning how to stand. I had to learn how to be still. I had to learn in stages, by standing I learned to relax, then I moved to a posture, then another posture. As I progressed he added Taoist texts and herbalism.

Tai chi is a health exercise, but Tai Chi Chuan is a martial art. It means Supreme Ultimate Boxing. It is an internal form of martial arts. There are meridians and acupuncture points, which are ways energy moves through the body, that can be used for or against you.

I never meant to get Tracy involved in the investigation, but she had served Mei Ling when she had come into the Outer Limit, the club Tracy worked at. She wasn’t likely to forget, because she paid with a hundred-dollar bill and told her to keep the change. Tracy and I became an item and she spent many a night at my place.

I told her how Mei Ling was killed. There are really two types of martial arts. External, like King Fu and Karate, rely on outer strength. The bigger guy usually wins. Internal, of which Tai Chi Chuan is the most well-known, uses kinetic energy, so it bounces around on the inside tearing someone up and breaking bones.

When they found Mei Ling’s apartment, they found a suitcase full of twenty-dollar bills four inches deep. What was going on with her? Blackmail? Selling inside information to the Eight Tigers? I found out she had another apartment in San Francisco. So I hopped on a plane to check it out. It looked like she had just walked out and was coming right back.

That was when Daniel found me. He took me to meet Tony Lau, her fiance. He was the son of Jimmy Yi Lau the boss of the Eight Tigers Society. They ran most of the rackets in San Francisco. The Taste of Asia parlors where Mei Ling worked belonged to him. But Tony was an artist and just didn’t seem the type to go around killing people. Could it be a revenge hit? But revenge for what?

Animated Animals. Pictures, Images and Photos     4 STARS – Would Highly Recommend To Others

The cover was very creative. Charles seems to have a knack for choosing cool covers. The title was appropriate, when you figure all the changes Randall went through as the book progressed.

It was well written and the plot was varied and detailed. Mixing humor with the martial arts, kept something very technical light and fun to read. The mystery and suspense lasted throughout the book, keeping me guessing as to who the real killer was.

When he talks about a carpet picnic (a picnic on the living room floor) it brought to mind Friday nights at my house when I was a kid. It was grocery night and after my parents got home from the store, my mother would spread a blanket on the floor and we were allowed to pick whatever snacks we wanted while we watched TV. We had a big family, so this was always a treat.

I loved his description of her cat –  looked like a wrinkly miniature gargoyle. It was a Sphynx, hairless and felt like a warm, dry peach. LOL

The characters were well-developed. The details Charles provided allowed me to picture each character as if I were actually seeing them. I like that Randall and Tracy hooked up even though there was such a large age difference. Made it seem very realistic. Who we love is out of our hands sometimes. It’s something we can’t control.

I don’t think there was a page, except in the very beginning, when Randall wasn’t beaten, battered, bruised, banged up, or broken. He appeared inept at times, as he stumbled his way through, not giving up until the mystery was solved.

I have read Black, by Charles, and this is quite different. I definitely will be looking for more books in the Randall Lee mystery series.

About the Author

Charles Colyott lives on a farm in the middle of nowhere (Illinois) with his wife, 2 daughters, cats, and a herd of llamas and alpacas. He is surrounded by so much cuteness it’s very difficult for him to develop any street cred as a dark and gritty writer. Nevertheless, he has appeared in Read by Dawn II, Dark Recesses Press, Withersin magazine, Horror Library Volumes III & IV, Terrible Beauty, Fearful Symmetry, and Zippered Flesh, among other places. He also teaches a beginner level Tai Chi Ch’uan class in which no one has died (yet) of the death touch.

You can get in touch with him on Facebook, or email him at charlescolyott@gmail.com.
Unlike his llamas, he does not spit.

Twitter:        @charlescolyott
Facebook:   https://www.facebook.com/pages/Charle…
Website:     http://charlescolyott.wordpress.com/
Email:         charlescolyott@gmail.com