$20 GC – The Dead Detective Casefiles @partnersincr1me @Tjoconnorauthor

Posted on November 15, 2024 by fundinmental

THE DEAD DETECTIVE CASEFILES

by Tj O’Connor

October 28 – December 13, 2024 Virtual Book Tour

DYING TO KNOW

Detective Oliver Tucker’s dead—murdered—and back as an earth-bound spirit to help his wife, Professor Angela Tucker, crack the most important case of his life—his own. But, this is not a ghost story; it’s a murder case.

Tuck knows why he is back among the living but not one of them—Detective Solve Thyself. Perhaps he was murdered because of his last case—a murder involving a retired mob boss, a local millionaire land developer, a New York hit man, and the local university elite. Or could it be that Bear Braddock, his best friend and partner for more than fifteen years, wants Angela? Tuck knows that everything surrounds Kelly’s Dig where the discovery of Civil War graves may put an end to a multi-million dollar highway project. If it does, who stands to gain the most? Enough to kill?

Using his unique skills, Tuck weaves through half-truths and generations-old lies chasing a madman. And he’s not alone—others, dead and alive—are hunting the same killer. Still nothing can change the truth—it is the living, not the dead, who are most terrifying.

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads

DYING FOR THE PAST

Still an earth-bound spirit-detective, Tuck is on the case of the murder of a mysterious philanthropist with ties to the Russian mob and 1930’s gangsters. With the help of his wife, Professor Angela Tucker, and his former partner, Detective Bear Braddock, they must find the killer and be the first to read “the book”—an old gangster’s journal of the roots of espionage, racketeering, and corruption leading to the identity of modern-day powerbrokers and spies. Tuck finds a colorful cast of allies in a tough Assistant U.S. Attorney General, a secretive FBI agent, and the spirits of a long-dead 1930’s gangster and his sassy girlfriend.

As Tuck searches to learn the secrets of “the book,” he begins to unravel his own ancestry of mobsters, adventurers, and wayward spirits. Is being a ghost hereditary?

Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads

DYING TO TELL

Detective Oliver Tucker never knew how perilous dying was until he stumbled onto William Mendelson—murdered in a hidden vault where Egyptian relics and World War II secrets were once stashed. Now those relics are missing. The secrets are coming out. The dead are talking.

Tuck, the detective for the dead—the Dead Detective—is pulled into the case by the spirit of a World War II Office of Strategic Services operative with his own agenda. OSS Captain Ollie Tucker I—Tuck’s namesake—knows the past is catching up to the survivors of an Egyptian spy ring from more than seventy years ago. With the help of his beautiful and brilliant wife, Angel, and his gruff former partner, Detective Bear Braddock, Tuck must unravel a tale of spies, murderers, and thieves.

As Tuck’s case unfolds, he confronts the growing distance between his death and Angel’s life—and the solution is a killer of its own.

Praise for The Dead Detective Casefiles:

“O’Connor’s The Dead Detective Casefiles series is a must read for those who like mysteries with a dash of history, a hard-boiled twist, and a pinch of paranormal.”
~ Heather Weidner, Author of the Jules Keene Glamping Mysteries

“Tj O’Connor is a master storyteller who can have you gasping in suspense one moment and snorting coffee through your nose the next. In the Dead Detective Casefiles, he seamlessly merges mystery, humor, and paranormal so authentically that the reader never gives a second thought to the concept of the main character, Detective Oliver Tucker, actually being dead. ”
~ Annette Dashofy, USA Today Bestselling author of the Zoe Chambers Mystery Series

Book Details:

Genre: PI Cozy Mystery
Published by: Level Best Books
Publication Date: September 2024
Series: The Dead Detective Casefiles

Read an excerpt from DYING TO KNOW:

One

Dying is overrated. Murder, on the other hand, is not.

Trust me, after fifteen years as a detective, I know a lot about both. Like death and murder are always complicated, but not always related. You can have death without murder, but not the other way around. That’s what I used to think anyway. I changed my mind after an episode of my recurring nightmare. I’d been having it for years and it always turned out the same. While chasing a bad guy in the dark, he turned and shot me. I was about to die when something always pulled me from the nightmare.

This time, it was Hercule’s hot breath.

My four-year-old black Lab was standing beside my bed alternating between low growls and a tongue-lashing. Both demanded my attention. When my eyes first opened, he lapped at my face and nudged me with his big, wet nose. I forced my eyes open wider and at the same time realized that Angel was not snuggled beside me in bed. She was standing across the room and listening at our bedroom door.

“Angel, did you hear something again?” She always heard things late at night and always felt compelled to share them with me. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Tuck. Herc can hear it, too. Wake up, will you? What kind of detective are you?”

“The asleep-kind.”

“Just get up. Please?”

Hercule froze, nose down, staring at me as we both heard creaking floorboards in the downstairs hall. I rolled sideways and sat on the side of the bed. Hercule crept away and crouched near the door. For the third time, something interrupted Angel’s sleep. The first two times were just our old house’s creaks and groans, and both failed to wake Hercule out of a stone-cold sleep. Now, after summoning me, he was poised for homeland defense.

I got to my feet and gathered my clothes littered in a strategic path across the room. I nearly toppled over slipping on my jeans and a black tee shirt and did manage to trip over my running shoes.

Angel motioned for Herc to return to the bed. To me she whispered, “Hurry up.”

“Look, if I’m going to get killed tonight, I don’t want to be naked.” I grabbed my 40-caliber Glock from the nightstand and checked the chamber. Then, I retrieved a .38 revolver from our walk-in closet and handed it to Angel. “Just in case.”

“Okay. Be careful.”

“Keep Herc close, babe. If it’s your imagination, stay awake and lose those pjs. If it’s trouble, give me fifteen minutes—then lose them.”

Even in the dark, I could see her eyes roll. “Just be careful.”

At the door, I listened but heard nothing. I winked at Angel and Hercule on the bed and whispered, “I love you—you too, Angel.”

Hercule wagged his tail.

In the hallway, I waited for my eyes to adjust a little more to the darkness. I shifted them to use my peripheral vision, looking for any telltale movement. Still nothing. From the top of the stairs, I could just make out the foyer below and did not see or hear anything. There were no wispy shadows, no running feet, and no creaking floorboards. Yawning, I eased down the stairs with my Glock out in front of me. At the bottom landing, I stopped.

Darkness and the grandfather clock greeted me—it chimed two.

The downstairs was quiet and I checked the front door. It was still locked and there were no signs of splintered wood, broken glass, or other forced entry. The only sound I heard was my own breathing. The only curious sighting was the half-dressed, frumpy guy in the hall mirror who looked tired and irritated.

Maybe Angel would be losing those pjs sooner rather than later.

I started with the kitchen and worked my way around the first floor, searching room by room—all five of them—ending in my den. Nothing. The most dangerous thing I found was Hercule’s squeaky frog that scared the crap out of me when I stepped on it. I felt foolish and decided to head back to bed.

It hit me when I reached to turn off my desk lamp.

The light shouldn’t have been on. I looked around. My briefcase wasn’t in its ritual place on my credenza. It was on my chair and the contents strewn over my desk. Everything was dumped out—my gold detective’s badge and I.D., several files, a notepad, tape recorder, and my .380 backup piece.

No, the Walther wasn’t there—the holster was empty.

“Angel …” I bolted to the stairs and looked up.

Floorboards groaned above me. A door opened in the darkness beyond the landing. Movement—a shadow.

Somewhere above, Angel called, “Tuck.”

There was a flash at the top of the stairs … a shot.

I lunged for the third stair. A figure stepped out of the darkness twelve feet above me.

Another flash.

“Angel!”

***

Author Bio:

Tj O’Connor is an award-winning author of mysteries and thrillers. He’s an international security consultant specializing in anti-terrorism, investigations, and threat analysis—life experiences that drive his novels. With his former life as a government agent and years as a consultant, he has lived and worked around the world in places like Greece, Turkey, Italy, Germany, the United Kingdom, and throughout the Americas—among others. In his spare time, he’s a Harley Davidson pilot, a man-about-dogs (and now cats), and a lover of adventure, cooking, and good spirits (both kinds). He was raised in New York’s Hudson Valley and lives with his wife, Labs, and Maine Coon companions in Virginia where they raised five children who supply a growing tribe of grands.

Catch Up With Tj O’Connor:
tjoconnor.com
Goodreads
BookBub – @tj37
Amazon Author
Instagram – @tjoconnorauthor
Twitter/X – @Tjoconnorauthor
Facebook – @TjOConnor.Author
YouTube – @tjoconnorauthor3905

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Giveaway – The Hemingway Deception by T J O’Connor @partnersincr1me @tjoconnorauthor

Posted on May 20, 2023 by fundinmental

The Hemingway Deception

by Tj O’Connor

May 1 – 26, 2023 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

Ana Karras is running from her past.
Catalina Reyes is running toward hers.
Two deadly women—one treacherous mission.
A Cuba-America war is at stake.
Why does everyone want them both dead?
The answer is simple . . . Hemingway.

Ana Karras is hiding among the millions in Manhattan, recovering from near-death at the hands of Cuban Intelligence. When she begins an ill-fated quest to find her missionary parents lost somewhere in Latin America, she’s haunted by her past and coerced into a new mission—to capture Catalina “Cat” Reyes, a rogue Cuban assassin bound for Washington. Cat’s mission could well start another Caribbean crisis. To avert a Cuban-American war, Ana must do the unthinkable—she must once again become Ana Montilla, the notorious FARC guerrilla. As Ana struggles to keep from devolving permanently into Ana Montilla, Cat must overcome past failures and reclaim her skills as Cuba’s top assassin—or die. Ana and Cat are on a collision course. Their paths are not separate, but one. Their pasts inexplicably linked. Their futures reliant on each other. Still, it’s the secrets kept from them that will be the end game. Two deadly women. One treacherous mission. What is Operation Perro? Why does everyone want Ana Karras and Cat Reyes dead?

The answer is Hemingway.

Praise for The Hemingway Deception:

“A riveting ‘ripped from the headlines’ international thriller: Two women fighting for what they believe; a horrifying assassination plot; deadly enemies, including some in our own government; and a mysterious operative named Hemingway who must be found. O’Connor, a real life anti-terrorism expert, takes us on a roller coaster ride of action, intrigue, betrayal and stunning twists. Read it!”
~ R.G. Belsky, Award-Winning Author of the Clare Carlson Series

“Great characters, non-stop action, a twisted plot, and exotic locations-The Hemingway Deception is exactly what an international thriller should be. Couldn’t put it down.”
~ DP Lyle, Award-Winning Author of the Jake Longly and Cain/Harper Thriller Series

“A rollercoaster ride of international intrigue, governmental deception and the meaning of family. Tj O’Connor’s real-life knowledge of geopolitical affairs shines through on every quick-turning page. Bravo!”
~ Matt Coyle, Author of the Bestselling Rick Cahill Crime Series

“There are no wimps in this fast-paced thriller, male or female. The relentless action will have you flying through the pages, eager to know what happens next.”
~ Terry Shames, Author of the Award-Winning Samuel Craddock Series

“Tj O’Connor does it again in The Hemingway Deception. His action-packed writing is founded in real-world experience with anti-terrorism and threat analysis consulting. This time, he adds kick-ass women to the mix, building in multiple layers of complexity often overlooked in thrillers.”
~ Dawn Brotherton, Author of the Jackie Austin Mysteries and Eastover Treasures

Book Details:

Genre: Thriller
Published by: Suspense Books
Publication Date: March 2023
Number of Pages: 370
ISBN: 9798218103323
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

2

Two Months Earlier
April 4, Late Afternoon—Cabrera Village, Antioquia Department, Northeastern Colombia Near the Panama Border

Ana stood in the swirling dust among dozens of other Cabrera villagers gathered in the square. They had been herded like cattle by soldiers in black uniforms. All around them, military trucks rolled through the streets. Masked soldiers searched homes and shops. They gathered up occupants and added them to the pack. No one dared challenge the men—no one Ana heard, at least.

She dared not. If these men discovered her secret—her true identity—two things were certain: She would never find her parents, and she would never leave Colombia again. Both outcomes would be because she was dead.

Though Ana Karras was not known in Colombia, Ana Montilla was—notoriously. Ana Karras and Ana Montilla were two sides to the same coin. She was born in Colombia and raised in jungle guerrilla camps—a beautiful, intelligent girl honed by tough comrades and dangerous surroundings. Raised as one of them, Ana Montilla was a jungle fighter. A strong, daring woman whose fearlessness had often invited more danger than necessary. She was often impulsive, reckless, and tenacious. Traits feared in the camp’s men. Traits unexpected in her.

Ana Montilla was the woman Ana Karras loathed to become again. She had left that life—and her alter ego—behind eight years ago. Recently, Ana Karras had returned to South America to find her parents, and wherever she went, Ana Montilla followed.

That was the one fact about her former life that gave Ana the most angst—that Ana Montilla constantly simmered just below her skin, waiting for the right time, the right situation to take control of her life once again. The opportunity to pull her back into a life of chaos and violence. For years, she’d kept that Ana locked and hidden away—a demon remanded to the underworld, tethered to the past.

Looking around Cabrera now, she feared those bonds might be broken and the demon would be released.

Beside her, seven-year-old Sarah—an orphaned child found wandering alone and afraid—clutched her leg with one hand and held tightly to a scruffy dog’s leash with the other. The dog stood rock-still in front of them both, teeth bared, growling a warning.

“No, Lobo,” Ana whispered. “Easy, boy.”

Sarah threw her arms around his neck. “Lobo, stay with me. Miss Ana will protect us.”

“Sarah,” Ana whispered, “it will be all right.”

“Yes, Miss Ana.” Sarah wiped tears away, nearly dropping Lobo’s leash. “Me and Lobo aren’t afraid.”

“Good.” Ana pulled the child tighter against her. “Stay close.”

A short, lumpy, unshaven man turned from a group of soldiers standing near one of the trucks. He adjusted the gun belt riding low on his hip like a television gunslinger and smoothed his black combat uniform. With a casual, almost Hollywood-like gesture, he adjusted his dark sunglasses and strode toward her. He stopped an arm’s length away and took his time looking her over—slow and probing—leaving her feeling dirty and violated.

Lobo strained against his leash and snapped at him, but the man kicked a boot of sand at him. The dog growled again, and the man took a cautious step back.

“I am Major Alberto Gonzales Nicasio,” he said in Spanish. “Who are you and why are you in my town?”

Do not make things worse, Ana. Keep to your cover story.

“Major Nicasio, I am Ana Karras.” She dropped her eyes and played innocent. “I am here to—”

“Wait.” Major Nicasio snapped a finger at one of his men. “Tomãs, could she be the one?”

“Un minuto, Major.” Tomãs, a large, bulky soldier hiding behind sunglasses, pulled out a cell phone from his uniform pocket. He tapped on the screen, pincered his fingers, and brought up a photograph. He handed the phone to the major. “She resembles her, yes. But I am unsure.”

Ana glanced at Tomãs. His Spanish was different than the others. Different than Major Nicasio’s. She knew the varied Colombian accents and dialects. Tomãs’s was not Colombian; it was…Cubano. As she listened to the other soldiers speaking nearby, it struck her they were Cuban, too.

What were Cuban soldiers doing in Colombia?

Major Nicasio studied her, then the photo on the cell phone, and studied her again. He made the comparison several times before shaking his head.

“No, Tomãs, she is not the one.” He turned the phone toward Ana. “Have you seen this woman, señorita?”

The picture was of a young, pretty Latina in a military uniform—a Cuban military uniform. The woman bore some resemblance to her—pretty, dark haired, with a slender face. She appeared a little older than Ana, but shared the dark, Cuban accents in her eyes.

“No,” she said. “I have not.”

“Pity.” Major Nicasio turned to Tomãs. “Search her.”

Tomãs stepped forward and gestured for her to raise her hands. The moment he reached for her, Lobo lunged at him and sent him back-stepping to the merriment of the other soldiers looking on. He instantly pulled a long-bladed knife from his gun belt.

Sarah cried, “Stop it. Leave my dog alone.”

“Forgive me, Major,” Ana said, pulling Lobo back, closer to Sarah. “The little dog is afraid. We are all afraid.”

Major Nicasio waved to one of his men who snatched the leash and dragged Lobo aside.

“No, he’s my dog,” Sarah cried. “Give him back.”

Ana touched her shoulder. “It is all right, Sarah. They will not hurt him.”

“As long as he minds himself.” Tomãs sheathed his knife and stepped close again, nudging Ana’s arms into the air. When she slowly complied, he grinned. His hands moved from her shoulders, down each arm in a slithering trail. At her wrists, they ventured to her hips and began a slower, deeper probe of her body. They moved around her back to her buttocks and returned to her round, full bosom where he kneaded and grabbed, all the while mumbling his admiration.

The other soldiers murmured and cajoled one another.

Ana was thankful she couldn’t see Tomãs’s eyes behind his dark sunglasses. She knew he was staring and lusting as he groped her. She knew if she saw those eyes, her control might wane, and Ana Montilla might strike out.

“I have no weapons.” Ana stepped back. “Por favor, the child. This is not necessary.”

“Don’t move.” Tomãs grabbed her arms and pulled her back into position. He continued his probing down each leg and up her thighs, rubbing her in a violation that made her ill. When he was through, he dug his hands into her jeans pockets and probed further, closing on something there.

“Please, no.”

He withdrew an old, faded photograph from her front pocket, unfolded it, and handed it to the major. “She has this, Major.”

Major Nicasio glanced at the picture; his eyes snapped up and locked on hers. “You seek this man?”

Ana nodded. “Yes. I…”

“I see.” Major Nicasio’s mouth transformed into a snide grin. “How curious.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Oh, I think you do.” He stepped forward and grabbed her arm, lifting her up onto her tiptoes and against him. “You come to my town to find el doctor? Something you wish to tell me, señorita?”

***

Author Bio:

Tj O’Connor is the author of The Hemingway Deception, Dying with a Secret, (pending publication), The Consultant and four paranormal murder mysteries.
Tj is an international security consultant specializing in anti-terrorism, investigations, and threat analysis—life experiences that drive his novels. With his former life as a government agent and years as a consultant, he has lived and worked around the world in places like Greece, Turkey, Italy, Germany, the United Kingdom, and throughout the Americas—among others. Tj is a Harley Davidson pilot, a man-about-dogs, and a lover of adventure, cooking, and good spirits (both kinds). He was raised in New York’s Hudson Valley and lives with his wife and Labrador companions in Virginia where they raised five children who are supply a growing tribe of grands!