Tag Archives: Pump Up Your Book

BOOK TOUR: A Hush at Midnight by Marlene M. Bell

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When former celebrity chef Laura Harris is accused of murdering her mentor, she must uncover the real killer amidst a web of small-town secrets and scandals.

 

 

Title: A Hush at Midnight

Author: Marlene M. Bell

Pages: 368

Genre: Mystery

Marlene M. Bell brings distant friends together in the rural South only to have one of them become the victim of a brutal crime of passion.

Once celebrated for her show-stopping pastries and irresistible desserts, former celebrity chef Laura Harris is now making headlines for a far darker reason.

Laura has been accused of murder.

How could this petite chef have brutally smothered the beloved small-town matriarch, World War II ferry pilot veteran, Hattie Stenburg? Hattie wasn’t just a pillar of the community; she was Laura’s confidant and mentor. The shocking twist? Hattie had made recent changes to her will, bypassing next-of kin and leaving her entire fortune and historic estate to Laura.

As Laura scrambles to clear her name, she uncovers sinister secrets lurking beneath the town’s idyllic surface. The real murderer is always one step ahead, leaving taunting clues and threatening Laura to leave Texas—or face deadly consequences. With time not a luxury, Laura must untangle the web of deceit before the killer makes her the next victim.

A Hush at Midnight is available at Amazon.

 

Book Excerpt

Stenburg, Texas – Friday evening

A killer sunset plunged toward the horizon, casting its tangerine glare on the Stenburg Estate’s green metal roof and aging bricks. Since her hasty arrival from the Los Angeles area last year, Laura Harris had sought out the renowned East Texas skyline for its towering thunderstorm clouds and the lemonade-pinks at twilight.

The colors gave her a sense of calm before the inaugural trip to see her elderly mentor and dearest pen pal, Hattie Stenburg. Laura last visited with her in California—over a decade ago.

As Laura skirted a large puddle in her Subaru and stopped along the shoulder of the roadway, she parked the car, turned off the engine, and exited the driver’s side. She breathed in air filled with pungent smells of wet pine needles and dampened leaves. Laura had passed through the April shower a few miles east of the Stenburg town limits sign. Leave it to the Stenburgs to live in a town named after themselves.

Snaggled grapevines across the road on Hattie’s property sat stoic and graying in long horizontal rows from the oil and gravel highway road to the classic red brick two-story at the top of the hill. The vines showed no signs of new growth even though T-posts held the outstretched limbs twisted within wire and sagging driplines. Gnarled stumps had been left behind from a time when the Stenburgs had added varietal grapes to their company’s wine processing vats prior to Warren Stenburg’s death nearly eight years ago—before Laura’s dad took over as the Texas corporation’s chief executive officer.

– Excerpted from A Hush at Midnight by Marlene Bell, Ewephoric Publishing, 2024. Reprinted with permission.

 

 Watch the Trailer
 

https://youtu.be/c8mdhjCCn0A 
 
 
About the Author

Mystery at a killing pace.

Marlene M. Bell has never met a sheep she didn’t like. As a personal touch, her fans often find these wooly creatures visiting her international romantic suspense, thriller, and cozy mystery books as characters or subject matter. 

Marlene’s multi-award-winning Annalisse series boasts numerous Best Mystery honors for all installments including the newest IP Best Regional Australia/New Zealand, and Global Gold Award for the fourth cozy mystery from down under. 

Her children’s picture book, Mia and Nattie: One Great Team! written for the younger crowd, is based on true events from the Bell’s Texas sheep ranch. Suitable reading for ages 3 – 7 years and beyond, a Mom’s Choice Gold Award winner, and Eric Hoffer Award Grand Prize Short List winner. 

Website & Social Media:

Website ➜ https://www.marlenembell.com 

Twitter ➜ https://twitter.com/ewephoric 

Facebook ➜  https://www.facebook.com/marlenembell 

Goodreads ➜ https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17642396.Marlene_M_Bell

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BOOK TOUR: A Dream in the Wilderness by Jean Hackensmith

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Hired as a nanny to Caleb Wachsmann’s three children, Sarah Bentley finds life in the Wisconsin Territory to be so much more.

 

Title: A Dream in the Wilderness

Author: Jean Hackensmith

Pages: 285

Genre: Historical Romance

Unable to find a teaching position in the flooded job market that is New York City, twenty-one-year-old Sarah Bentley accepts the position of nanny to Caleb Wachsmann’s three children after the farmer’s wife, parents, and infant son die in the Cholera epidemic of 1834. The twist? The job is in Superior, Wisconsin in the Michigan Territory, an unsettled wilderness located on the northwestern tip of Lake Superior.

Caleb is not looking for love; his heart will always belong to his beloved Annie. What he does need is a woman to watch after the children while he toils in the fields making a living for his family. Sarah turns out to be that woman. She raises his children with a gentle and loving hand and also helps Caleb to overcome an unbearable loss. As Wisconsin vies for statehood, the young couple will face challenge after challenge as they struggle to tame a wilderness that really doesn’t want to be tamed at all.

A Dream in the Wilderness is available at https://www.amazon.com/Dream-Wilderness-Saga-Book-ebook/dp/B0DJS19HMH.

 

Book Excerpt

Superior, Wisconsin

August 21, 1834

Caleb Wachsmann stood before the four open graves, his two eldest children on either side of him and the youngest in his arms. His entire body was numb. It still didn’t seem possible that all four of them could be gone. But they were. Cholera had taken them systematically, one by one. His father. His mother. His beloved wife, Annie, the mother of his children. His gaze settled on the last coffin, no more than three feet long. Inside was his six-month-old son, Danny.

Caleb and the older children got sick first. Caleb’s mother had been through other cholera epidemics and knew exactly what to do. They started boiling the drinking water from the nearby St. Louis River and, between her and Annie, and even his father, had forced tons of the bacteria-free water down their throats to prevent dehydration. At one time, Caleb joked that he thought he was going to float away.

He and the older children recovered. Then the rest of the family got sick. The rapid deterioration in their conditions made it impossible for Caleb to keep up with the hydration on all four of his patients. Danny was the first to succumb to the disease. He lasted only 24-hours after the first symptoms appeared. The others lasted two to three days.

Caleb couldn’t help but blame himself. He was responsible for their care, and he had failed.

“Pa?”

Caleb didn’t hear his son’s voice. He was too lost in his thoughts and his grief.

A yank on his shirt sleeve brought him back to reality.

“Pa!”

“What, Seth?” he asked with exasperation heavy in his tone as he looked down at the carrot-topped, freckle-faced boy before him. In fact, all of the children were the spitting image of their mother, and it made looking at them all the more painful.

“Why did we put Grandpa and Grandma and Ma and Danny in the ground? Grandma and Ma aren’t going to like it at all, cuz they don’t like to get dirty.”

Caleb stooped before his eight-year-old son, placing two-year-old Bethany on his knee, then indicated for the five-year-old Jenny to come closer, also. “Remember how I told you that your ma and Danny and your grandma and grandpa are in Heaven with God now?”

The two older children nodded.

“You see, what we put in the ground wasn’t your Mama and Danny anymore, or your grandma and grandpa. The part of her that made your mama your mama and Danny, Danny already went to Heaven.”

“Like their ghosts, you mean?” Seth asked.

“Their spirits,” Caleb corrected. “What’s in the ground is just what was left over and, in time, that part of them will go back to the ground.”

“But it still kinda looked like Ma when you and Father Hauley put the cover on the box,” Seth argued.

Caleb sighed his resignation. “Yes, it did. I don’t know how to explain it better, Seth. When you get older, you’ll understand.”

“So, who’s gonna take care of us now, Pa?” Jenny asked. “Mama and Grandma always took care of us when you and Grandpa were out in the fields plantin’ stuff.”

“I haven’t figured that out yet, honey, but I will.”

The little girl’s green eyes teared and her face scrunched up with her sadness. “I miss Mama, Pa. I want her to come back.”

The sight of his sister’s anguish brought renewed tears to Seth’s eyes also, and Caleb pulled both of them close. Bethany put pudgy arms around her older brother and sister and joined in the hug.

The traveling priest who had performed the ceremony, the only other person present at the burial, looked on in sympathy when he considered what lay ahead for the young father. It was unheard of for a man to raise three children on his own, especially a farmer who spent ten to twelve hours a day cultivating his fields. Yes, Caleb Wachsmann was going to have to find a woman, and he was going to have to do it soon.

– Excerpted from A Dream in the Wilderness by Jean Hackensmith, Jean Hackensmith, 2024. Reprinted with permission.

 

About the Author

 

I have been writing since the age of twenty. (That’s 47 years and, yes, I’m disclosing my age.) I am the proud mother of three and grandmother to four wonderful grandchildren. After losing who I thought was the love of my life, my late husband Ron, in November of 2011, I met Rick. So, it is definitely possible to have more than one “love of your life.” Rick and I were married in July of 2018 and are still going strong today. He is my soulmate, my confidant, and my biggest fan. He has read every book I have ever written (even the romances!) 

Next to writing, my second passion is live theater. I founded a local community theater group back in 1992 and directed upwards of 40 shows, including three that I authored. I also appeared on stage a few times, portraying Anna in The King and I and Miss Hannigan in Annie. I am sad to say that the theater group dropped its final curtain in 2008, but those 16 years will always hold some of my fondest memories. 

I moved from Superior 15 years ago, seeking the serenity of country living. I also wanted to get away from the natural air conditioning provided by Lake Superior. We moved only 50 miles south, but the temperature can vary by 20-30 degrees. I guess I’m a country girl at heart. I simply love this area, and am lucky to, once again, have someone to share its beauty. I love the solitude, the picturesque beauty of the sun rising over the water, the strangely calming effect of watching a deer graze outside your kitchen window. Never again, will I live in the city. I am an author, after all, and what better place to be inspired than in God’s own backyard.

Let’s Connect!

Website: https://www.jeanhackensmith.com.

X: https://x.com/Author911 

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/p/jean-hackensmith-61554012674412/ 

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/32957713?ref=nav_mybooks 

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BOOK TOUR: The Shards of Lafayette by Kenneth A. Baldwin

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A combat pilot and his magically-inclined mechanic discover the limits of loyalty, love, and friendship when they’re tasked with tracking down magical artifacts popping up around WWI’s Western Front.

 

Title: The Shards of Lafayette: Drops of Glass Book 1

Author: Kenneth A. Baldwin

Pages: 380

Genre: Historical Fantasy

1918. France. Reports of unexplained rogue attacks have come in from both sides of the Western Front.

When Marcus Dewar is tasked with investigating the aerial bombardments, it’s not because of his aviation record. To make a name for himself, he will have to escort his best friend, a woman named Jane Turner known for her witchlike repairs on damaged aircraft, through some of the war’s most dangerous battle zones.

But when they learn the rogue pilots seek out arcane devices filled with magic powerful enough to alter the war, it will take more than some hedgewitch tactics and smart flying to return with their lives.

And in a conflict that values human life so little, that’s the least they have to lose.

The Shards of Lafayette: Drops of Glass Book 1 is available at Amazon at https://www.amazon.com/Drops-Glass-Magic-Shards-Lafayette-ebook/dp/B0C42B144X .

 

Book Excerpt

 

“Are those Boelcke’s goggles?” Marcus asked.

Smith nodded and took them off.

“I Convinced Mustermann to leave them here as a sign of good faith.” Smith’s eyes glossed with a peculiar sheen. He laughed to himself and whispered. “I’ll be damned, but they work.”

I stared, grasping now for the first time the importance of Smith’s experiment.

“You watched the fight through the goggles?” I asked.

“Hardly thought to grab them when the bomber showed up, but I’m sure glad I did.”

Marcus squirmed beside me.

“What do you mean they work?” he asked, a trace of anger on the edge of his voice.

“I mean that while Private Whiskey pulled his risky spiral, it just so happened to coincide with the German’s bottom gun jamming.”

“How do you know?” Marcus stammered.

But we all knew, at least after the fact. The bloated pause before Lufbery opened fire—a gun jam would explain it. A flash of sympathy for the pilots raced through me. How they must have panicked when they realized…

“It’s just like Mustermann said,” Smith replied, tossing the goggles brusquely to Marcus. “There’s something inside of you that goes off. And as you believe it, the plane gets a bit of a glow to it. Like the glow of a Christmas tree from down the hall after too many drinks. Hazy like, almost blurry. It’s like you could swear someone was shining a blue flashlight on the jammed gun.”

I turned to Marcus. Part of me wanted to flaunt how I’d been right, that the magic was real, but the danger of the immediate situation cut the wind from my sails. Instead, I hoped he would at least see reason. He saw red.

“Luf downed that plane because he’s the best pilot we have.”

Smith raised his eyebrows.

“Best American pilot, you mean.”

“Best Allied pilot.”

“Not by the numbers,” Smith said flatly.

“Then forget the numbers,” Marcus spat back, his voice raising.

I furrowed my brow.

“Marcus, you have to start believing. Why else would the Germans send a bomber after Mustermann if not to keep him quiet? These goggles are important. This mission is important. They must be on to something.”

“On to what?” Marcus asked. He shook his head “What? Blue flyers and special goggles? Smith, what if this is all part of a larger cup and ball routine? If I were Ludendorff, one of my top priorities would be finding a way to make the other Allied commanders lose faith in General Pershing. Isn’t this type of goose chase exactly the thing to accomplish that?”

“You think the Germans would sacrifice a Gotha bomber in a show of pageantry? Have you lost your mind?” I asked incredulously.

“I appreciate the point you’re trying to make, Marcus. But like it or not, she’s right.” He looked at the goggles with a faraway frown. “It’s too many validations. I don’t know if those goggles are some kind of military innovation or if they’re the product of some devious enchantment or what, but they worked for me just now. Could it be that the Gotha had some type of technology synched up with these goggles to show me what I expected to see? Maybe. But that’s not technology our government has any idea how to replicate.”

“But, sir—”

Sharp shouts from Dupont and Atkins cut short our conversation. Calls for help mixed with rudimentary commands in German.

“This day keeps getting better,” Smith said as he peered through the trees toward the wreckage. “The pilot survived.”

– Excerpted from The Shards of Lafayette: Drops of Glass Book 1 by Kenneth A. Baldwin, Eburnean Books, 2023. Reprinted with permission.

Guest Post

The Inspiration Behind The Shards of Lafayette by Kenneth A. Baldwin

Somehow, I got my hands on a copy of the personal diaries of Lieutenant Colonel Georges Thenault. It’s difficult to say what drew me into the pages, but I don’t doubt that somewhere inside of me a boyhood fascination with Charles Schultz’s Snoopy going wing to wing with the Red Baron lives on.

Thenault was the captain of a volunteer fighter squadron in WWI called the Lafayette Escadrille at a time when they didn’t even know to call them fighter squadrons yet. A group of American guys left their Ivy League educations to go and help France in its war against Germany. Many of them started as ambulance drivers, but somehow they ended up in airplanes. Thenault, a French officer, was assigned captain of this group, who wanted to name themselves the American Escadrille, but due to the United States’ neutrality, couldn’t do so without invoking the German ire and threatening relations between France and Uncle Sam.

Instead, they conjured up a name from the memory of the Marquis de Lafayette, a similarly young guy who gave up similarly great wealth to come and volunteer for the American Revolutionary War.

I found reading Thenault’s firsthand account of managing this rowdy group of young men nothing short of magical, as I did the rudimentary and clumsy exploration of motorized flight, something that had been discovered by mankind only a decade earlier.

The Lafayette Escadrille captured my attention as firmly as it captured international attention during WWI. I wanted to explore the human magic that drove so many pilots like them to take to the skies and risk everything for the great game of combat aviation.

But beyond that, the bonds of friendship and love between fellow pilots, even when they were on opposite sides of the war, are so strong that they still have emotional power today.

So, I set out to tell a story about a young man who wanted glory as a combat pilot and his best friend, a woman known for her magical aviation repairs.

I wrote the novel while in isolation during COVID, and I wanted to see how far friendship could stretch, to examine how important it really is to the human experience, by placing it under enormous, arcane pressure.

I also wanted to represent WWI in a way that is often neglected. I’ve had many readers refer to Drops of Glass as a “cozy war story,” and I don’t know if I’d go that far, but I’m proud of the moniker. It means that I was able to represent the human experience in the war out of the trenches in a meaningful way. Hopefully, those who read it can remember that the men and women who fought between 1914 and 1918 were more than lice-covered trench rats.

They are what we are built upon.

About the Author
 

Kenneth A. Baldwin writes stories that blur the lines between history, magic, dreams, and reality. He loves finding oddities in history books with unbelievable tales or unexplained phenomena. His first series, The Luella Winthrop Trilogy, takes place during just such a time when late 19th-century Victorians struggled to balance a surge of occultism and never-before-seen scientific advancements.

Before he started writing novels, Kenny paid his way through law school by writing, performing, and teaching humor. You can still catch him on stage or in corners of the Internet that feature sketch and improv comedy. Now, he lives nestled under the Wasatch Mountains with his wonderful wife, sons, and Golden Retriever.

Website & Social Media:

Website ➜ www.kennethabaldwin.com 

X ➜ http://www.x.com/kennethabaldwin 

Facebook ➜ www.facebook.com/kennethabaldwin 

Goodreads ➜ www.goodreads.com/kennethabaldwin  

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BOOK TOUR: The Death of the Kremlin Czar by Jorg H. Trauboth

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An exciting, cutting-edge political thriller about the removal of a psychopathic Russian president who wants to restore the old Soviet Union.

Title: The Death of the Kremlin Czar

Author: Jorg H. Trauboth

Publication Date: August 26, 2024

Pages: 443

Genre: Thriller

Russian President and new Czar Ivan Pavlenko suddenly shows his true colors during the war in Ukraine. He wants the old Soviet Union back. The world is on the brink. The influential oligarch Alexei Sokolov wants to prevent Ivan’s megalomaniacal plans and is planning a fundamental new beginning for Russia. To achieve this, the Russian president must die. How will the US President react to the CIA’s proposal to support the oligarch, who has a romantic relationship with the Russian President’s partner, Yulia? 

The poison attack is perfectly prepared, but the Boeing with the oligarch Alexei Sokolow, his lover and over 100 passengers on board is hijacked by a Ukrainian terrorist and is supposed to crash over Berlin after knocking out the crew by shooting. Former elite soldier Marc Anderson is on board with his family and takes over with Alexei. The two flight amateurs try to get control. Will the landing and the assassination succeed or will the Kremlin Czar strike back brutally after realizing the role of Yulia?

The Death of the Kremlin Czar is available at Amazon (U.S. edition) and Amazon (German edition).

 

Book Excerpt 

“Watch out! High-voltage line at three hundred meters!“, shouted the co-pilot.
“In sight!“ the commander replied calmly, pulling up just before the obstacle and immediately pushing the helicopter down again.

The two pilots of the Ukrainian armed forces guided the old Russian Mi-8 helicopter with their night vision devices on a zigzag course away from populated areas and Russian defense walls to the target. The destination was Luhansk. The mission: to free their own soldiers from Russian captivity. They had volunteered for the Ascension mission and trained for the flight intensively in the simulator supplied by the USA, including simulated enemy fire and evasive maneuvers. The simulator‘s current aerial photographs proved to be extremely helpful in the dimly lit night. A lot had changed in Donbass since the region was forcibly annexed by Russian President Ivan Pavlenko. Destroyed cities, abandoned villages, mined escape routes, deportations, rapes, mass graves, poverty, hunger, thirst and despair.

Ivan Pavlenko was called “Czar Ivan II“ by the co-pilot, a former history teacher. But not only by him. The Ukrainian people hated this man who had brought so much suffering to their families with his megalomania and wanted to steal their country. Even those people whose thinking was shaped by Russian culture had turned their backs on this madman in Moscow.

The co-pilot turned to Iris, the commander of the special forces, and signaled “30 minutes.“

Iris had been given his nickname because – like the German anti-aircraft missile of the same name – he was known for always hitting the bull‘s eye. Everything Iris tackled led to success. On a street in Kiev, the child-pushing, medium-sized, friendly man at his wife‘s side would not have been noticed. No one could have guessed that the man flirting with his young daughter was a rare mixture of analyst, combat soldier and leader with a stellar military career ahead of him.

Iris looked at his men. The two teams sat opposite each other and remained completely relaxed despite the loud engine noise in the old transport helicopter with its fake Russian registration.

Perhaps it was a kind of meditative calm before the dangerous mission. Or perhaps it was the awareness that they could be hit by a Russian missile at any time during this night-time low-level flight into the Luhansk Oblast without being able to do anything about it. There weren‘t even any parachutes on board, because every kilogram counted for the return flight, during which the aged and rattling Mi-8 would be fully occupied.

The commander of the special forces fixed his gaze on the German opposite, who returned the look and nodded. Iris had received authorization for this rescue mission with a foreign team member from the highest authority. He had only agreed to it because the German Marc Anderson was considered a legend in the West despite being only thirty-five years old. Together with the US Navy SEALs, he had evacuated an American aircrew from the depths of Afghanistan and later served as a private security officer.

The US president‘s family was rescued from the hands of Iranian terrorists on a luxury yacht by the security agent and his team. He and his team were personally honored by the US President. The Iranian terrorists took revenge and brutally murdered Marc‘s wife in front of their house in Hamburg.

Guest Post

The Inspiration Behind The Death of the Kremlin Czar

I had a dream. Russian troops were standing in front of Berlin and declaring that Germany was now Russian. We were to surrender and look forward to a life in communism and with the ruble. I woke up and realized that I wasn’t living in 1945, but 80 years later.
Exactly this has happened to Ukraine. For nearly three years, the country has been desperately fighting for its survival. It wants to reclaim its lost territories and peace. Like all of us.

As someone who knows Putin’s biography and as a former general staff officer in NATO, I am convinced that there can be no negotiations with the Russian president. And if Ukraine gives up the territories because it runs out of weapons and ammunition, we in Central Europe will be next. Then my bad dream could come true.
“If a solution cannot be found on the battlefield, there must be another way to find one,” I thought.

I am also convinced that reality writes the best stories. You just have to recognize them.
So, I began to develop a plot for my fourth Marc Anderson thriller:

A group of oligarchs led by Alexei Sokolov wants to overthrow Russian President Ivan in Moscow. Just as Brutus and the senators did with Julius Caesar in Rome on the Ides of March. Modern history shows that it is difficult to overthrow a dictator by force. So, I gave Alexei a tough task, as he only had this one chance. And he is even preparing it with the support of the CIA, and with the knowledge of the US President, who of course knows nothing about it.

The plan is clever, but Alexei has a problem. He is having an affair with Yulia, the partner of the Russian President. Both are under pressure, as Ivan knows something.

On the flight to Moscow via Vilnius in Belarus, the plane with Alexei and Yulia on board is hijacked. The Ukrainian hijacker demands that his brother be released from Russian captivity. When the Russian President refuses, the plane begins an odyssey over Europe. The hijacker shoots the crew. The plane is without pilots and is programmed to crash into the Berlin Reichstag. The German government considers shooting down the passenger plane, which is legally forbidden. Crisis management between Berlin, Kyiv, and Washington is under enormous time pressure, as the plane is running out of fuel. The Czar in Moscow is silent. The former elite soldier Marc Anderson and his family are also on board. They are invited to a wedding celebration in Vilnius. Marc’s wife, Jelke, pleads with her husband, a hobby pilot, to save them all. He and Alexei go into the cockpit and try to take control of the ailing Boeing 737-300 in the night sky.
Will they manage to fly and to land the plane? And how will the plan to bring down Ivan unfold?

At this point, I have to stop. But you can be sure. The ending is spectacular. By page 180 at the latest, you’ll want to know. Otherwise, you won’t be able to relax. At least, that’s what the readers of the German novel say.

Enjoy!

About the Author

Jörg H. Trauboth, born in 1943 near Berlin, logged over two thousand flight hours as a Weapon Systems Officer Instructor in the Luftwaffe, flying PHANTOM F-4F / RF-4E and TORNADO fighter jets, and over 3000 hours in light aircraft. At the age of fifty, he left the service with the rank of Colonel in the General Staff. He received training as a Special Risk Consultant from the English Control Risk Group and served as Managing Director Germany, dealing with extortion and kidnapping cases in South America and Eastern Europe. Shortly thereafter, he founded his own consulting firm, quickly establishing an outstanding international reputation. Trauboth protected his clients with a 24-hour task force during product extortions, product recalls, kidnappings, and image crises. He was the first President of the European Crisis Management Academy in Vienna and President of the American Yankee Association.

He is known as a respected expert in the media on security-related topics. He volunteers as an emergency counselor and is a member of the Crisis Intervention Team (KIT Bonn) of the German Foreign Office. He is a private pilot, married, with two sons and three grandchildren.

In 2002, Trauboth wrote the now out of print standard work “Crisis Management for Company Threats”.

In 2016 the follow-up work was published with Jörg H. Trauboth as editor in collaboration with five authors: “Crisis Management in Companies and Public Institutions”.

Terror expert J. H. Trauboth presented his debut novel in 2015 with the Germany thriller “Three Brothers”. (Available in English). In 2019 “Operation Jerusalem” followed and in 2020 “Omega”. The trilogy is about the former elite soldier Marc Anderson and his team. With these three self-contained thrillers, Trauboth is rated by many readers as the “German Tom Clancy.” The trilogy is available as a printed edition, eBook and audio book.

His first detective novel, “Jakobs Weg” (German), followed in 2021. The highly explosive topic of “sexual abuse of children” is processed sensitively in a scenario on the Way of Saint James and at the end offers contact options for those seeking help.

In 2022, the novella “Bonjour Saint-Ex” was published (German) in which the passionate pilot Jörg H. Trauboth turns the last flight of the legend Antoine de Saint Exupéry into an exciting literary event.

Readers wanted a sequel to the Marc Anderson series. In 2023, ZarenTod – Das Ende der Präsidenten was published, a highly topical political thriller. The Russian president and new tsar, Ivan Pavlenko, suddenly shows his true face during the war in Ukraine. He wants the old Soviet Union back. The world is on the brink. The influential oligarch, Alexei Sokolov, wants to prevent Ivan’s megalomaniac plans and is planning a fundamental new beginning for Russia. To achieve this, the Russian president must be removed. But the plan goes awry. Ex-elite soldier Marc Anderson intervenes. Will Czar Ivan die? What will become of Europe? The book 8/ 2024 in English „The Death of the Kremlin Czar” is the fourth political thriller in the Marc Anderson series.

Website & Social Media:

Website ➜  https://trauboth-autor.de/english/

Twitter ➜ https://twitter.com/JorgTrauboth

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BOOK TOUR: Blazing Upheaval by Karen Charles

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A teacher and her family struggle to survive tumultuous riots, escalating violence, and civil unrest in this thrilling release from Karen Charles, and as their loyalties are put to the ultimate test, horrifying revelations and the cataclysmic Northridge earthquake irrevocably change their lives forever…

Title: Blazing Upheaval

Author: Karen Charles

Publication Date: July 25, 2024

Pages: 172

Genre: Thriller

In the heart of the tumultuous Rodney King riots in Los Angeles, a dedicated teacher finds herself thrust into a hazardous situation. Struggling to navigate the chaos and reach safety on the freeway, she faces dangerous obstacles that jeopardize her life. An unexpected rescue during a brutal attack plunges her, her family, and two other families into a chilling series of enigmatic events and escalating violence.

As the city grapples with unrest, they are entangled in a web of mysteries swiftly building in intensity. In the turmoil, their bonds of family, loyalty, and love are put to the ultimate test. The tension mounts relentlessly until an unforeseen revelation, coinciding with the cataclysmic Northridge earthquake, irrevocably changes their lives forever.

This gripping true-story thriller delivers suspenseful twists and heart-pounding moments, weaving a narrative of family resilience, solidarity, and enduring love in the face of daunting circumstances. It is a tale that illuminates the strength found within the human spirit when confronted with extraordinary challenges.

Blazing Upheaval is available at Amazon at https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B0BMM6BXLG. 


Book Excerpt:

With renewed focus, her heart pounding against her ribcage, Tiffany emerged from the fray. She realized she was only a few blocks from the I-5 freeway, her haven of safety. She pressed the gas pedal, her car surging ahead with newfound urgency.

Tiffany came to an abrupt stop at the red light at the intersection where she would make a left turn onto the freeway entrance. Loud yelling frightened her. Three men surrounded her car. They bounced it up and down. Alarm gripped her racing heart as she understood the hatred in their eyes. They pulled on the locked doors. They pounded on the windows. She felt shock and disbelief as she realized the rioters wanted to harm her! She was helpless! She was trapped!


Author Interview:

Blazing Upheaval was based on a true story. Why did you choose this particular true story to write about?

I chose this true story to write about to immerse the readers in historical events they may not be familiar with. Stepping into the shoes of fictional characters allows you to develop empathy and gain a deeper understanding of different viewpoints. The compelling blend of realism and suspense adds depth and relatability to my work.

Can you tell us a little about the main characters in your book?

The main character in this book is Tiffany, a dedicated teacher in central Los Angeles. She is unexpectedly caught in the middle of the Rodney King Riots, struggling to reach safety. As a result of this perilous situation, her entire family is thrown into a chilling series of enigmatic events and escalating violence.

They say all books of fiction have at least one pivotal point where the reader just can’t put the book down. What is one of the pivotal points in your book?

“With renewed focus, her heart pounding against her ribcage, Tiffany emerged from the fray. She realized she was only a few blocks from the freeway, her haven of safety. She pressed the gas pedal, her car surging ahead with newfound urgency.

Tiffany came to an abrupt stop at the red light at the intersection where she would make a left turn onto the freeway entrance. Loud yelling frightened her. Three men surrounded her car. They bounced it up and down. Alarm gripped her racing heart as she understood the hatred in their eyes. They pulled on the locked doors. They pounded on the windows. She felt shock and disbelief as she realized the rioters wanted to harm her! She was helpless! She was trapped!”

Does this novel carry a message?

The message this novel carries is woven into the heart-pounding narrative of family resilience, solidarity, and enduring love in the face of daunting circumstances. It is a tale that illuminates the strength found within the human spirit when confronted with extraordinary challenges.

What’s your next project?

My next project is another thriller developed around a true story of a traumatic event that greatly affected someone’s life. If you have such a story, please get in touch with me.

Is there anything you’d like to tell your readers and fans?

On my website, weaveofsuspense.com, I posted blogs with pictures of the Rodney King riots and the Northridge earthquake. If you look at them before and after you read the book, I think it will give you more insight into the impact they had on the cities. These visuals, combined with the narrative, will offer a deeper understanding of the challenges and triumphs that characterized that period.

About the Author

Karen Charles transforms real-life narratives into gripping fiction thrillers. Her novels intricately weave the threads of truth into a tapestry of suspense, intrigue, and riveting storytelling. An educator by profession, she is renowned for her thriller “Fateful Connections,” which unfolds against the backdrop of 9/11. “Blazing Upheaval” promises to deliver another chilling, heart-pounding experience. Karen and her husband reside on the serene shores of a beautiful bay in Washington, where she draws inspiration for her compelling narratives. Explore her insights and musings on the writer’s life through her blogs on “My Life As A Writer” at www.weaveofsuspense.com.

Website & Social Media:

Website ➜ http://weaveofsuspense.com 

Twitter ➜ http://www.twitter.com/karenra24229683 

Facebook ➜ https://www.facebook.com/karen.rabe.7/

Sponsored By:

BOOK TOUR: The Flying Barons of Negriponte by James Calbraith

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In the ruins of a fallen Empire, the first ever female pilot takes part in a flying boat race to free her people from the foreign oppression…

Title: The Flying Barons of Negriponte (The Aether Empire Book 1)

Author: James Calbraith

Publication Date: September 20, 2023

Pages: 134

Genre: Historical Fantasy/Candlepunk

They killed her father. They took her ship. But nothing will stop Ikaria’s vengeance.

Forty years since Constantinople fell to the Venetian flying citadels, high-altitude Aether racing is the favoured pastime of bored, wealthy Latin nobles. Ikaria, proud daughter of a legendary Aether engineer and one of the best racing pilots in the Aegean, is determined to uncover the truth behind her father’s mysterious disappearance at the end of the last Grande Regatta of Negriponte.

Driven by the thirst of vengeance and pursuit of engineering excellence in equal measures, Ikaria vows to win the next Regatta herself – and to find out what really happened to her father. But there’s a catch: a new Imperial edict bars her, and anyone not of noble blood, from taking part in Aether races. To her rescue comes Sire Mikhael of Chiarenza – an enigmatic handsome young Greek turncoat in the service of new Latin masters. His motivations unclear, the source of his funds and supplies a secret, Ikaria nonetheless agrees to accept his help: together, they set out to challenge the supremacy of the six Hexarchs, the infamous Flying Barons of Negriponte.

Pick up your copy of The Flying Barons of Negriponte at https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CJKXXQB1 .

Book Excerpt:

A black-headed gull landed on the bowsprit. It glanced around, confused as to why a small, sleek sailboat suddenly appeared in its path in the middle of a billowing cloud hundreds of feet above the surface of the sea. Its eyes met Ikaria’s; the bird squawked in indignation and spread its wings as if to protest this sin against God and nature. A sudden, violent gust pushed it off the spar. Still squawking in disgust, the gull continued on its way while the boat pushed onwards, deeper into the cloud and out the other side.

A white-washed dot of Saint Elijah’s chapel appeared among the rocky outcrops, marking the eastern end of the Chalcis Pass. Ikaria reached under her tunic and took out a small brass key, inlaid with a piece of ruby glass, hung on a silver chain at her neck. Gingerly, she inserted it into a slot in the side of the Caput Chamber and turned it a quarter to the right. A conduit linking the Inhibitor Retort with the Tribikos Manifold hissed, indicating a forming air gap. She turned the spigot in the nozzle, releasing half a dram of the Inhibitor into the Sublimation Aludel. It took another few moments for the reaction to start. She turned to the Hygroscope and observed the four liquids behind the pane of rock crystal: a mixture of quicksilver, aqua fortis, brine and fish oil, each coloured with a different hue of vitriol, indicated the proportion of gaseous Quintessence – the Naviferous Aether – in the air under the hull. The liquids bubbled behind the crystal, reacting to a sudden change in pressure, then stabilised at the new levels, layer upon layer, at their respective measuring notches carved in the crystal pane. And then – a new layer emerged where there shouldn’t be one: a fifth, ruby-coloured liquid filled out the unmarked space between the quicksilver and aqua fortis.

– Excerpted from The Flying Barons of Negriponte by James Calbraith, Flying Squid, 2023. Reprinted with permission.

 

 

Guest Post:

How Punk is your Candle?

From its origin, the term ‘steampunk’ was tongue-in-cheek. A play on ‘cyberpunk’ invented only because cyberpunk was a popular genre at the time (early 1980s), it was always more about the ‘steam’ component – the aesthetics and fashions of Victorian industrial era, the steam engines, the top hats, the airships, the pipes, valves and pulleys, the brass, leather and glass – than the actual ‘punk’.

The ‘punk’ of cyberpunk had a clear meaning: anarchy, evil corporations, dystopian collapse, sex, drugs and rock’n’roll amid a cyber future. Not so much steampunk: moral dilemmas and philosophical musings often give way to simply looking cool and having romping adventures in a steam-powered mechas, or fighting gothic monsters in a moody mansion. The importance of aesthetics over story could be the reason why steampunk, unlike cyberpunk, is better represented in visual media – animation, graphic novels, video and tabletop games – than literature.

That’s not to say there’s nothing important that steampunk can tell us as a genre. The Victorian era was the time when our modern world was being forged; women fought for their rights, as did the working classes; slavery was finally abolished in the West, but exploitative colonial empires thrived; the entire world became truly interconnected for the first time, with steamers plying the oceans from Tokyo to San Francisco and from Cape Town to Vladivostok; revolutions were slowly brewing that would soon bring the downfall of empires that had lasted for centuries. These are all themes that a good steampunk story should, and will, explore, in all its top-hatted, be-goggled glory.

And then there are all the other ‘-punks’. Like the Watergate building giving a part of its name to all the political scandals since, so did Steampunk help to define all the genres that emphasised retrofuturistic aesthetics. Clockpunk for Renaissance and Da Vinci-inspired mechanisms. Dieselpunk for the 1940s era, with combustion engines replacing steam and black leather trenchcoats instead of frocks. Decopunk for Art Deco. Atompunk for the 1950s – think Fallout, Bioshock. For the age before Clockpunk, the High Middle Ages – in which my new book, “The Flying Barons of Negriponte” is set – no single good term has yet been invented. There’s Candlepunk, which I prefer to use myself, but I’ve heard of Castlepunk, Monkpunk and even Dungeonpunk. Once again, all these terms focus on the aesthetics of the setting: the source of power is alchemy and primitive clockwork; the fighting is done with swords, crossbows and, depending on the fictional century, early gunpowder; the mood is dark, foggy and brooding, all hooded monks in candle-lit rooms and armoured knights sinking in the bogs. But if you can’t find enough of the ‘punk’ element – dystopian social commentary – in the era of crusades, heresies, plagues, robber knights and peasant revolts, are you even trying?

About the Author

James Calbraith is a Poland-born Scottish writer of history-adjacent novels, coffee drinker, Steely Dan fan and avid traveller.

Growing up in communist Poland on a diet of powdered milk, “Lord of the Rings” and soviet science-fiction, he had his first story published at the ripe age of eight. After years of bouncing around Polish universities, he moved to London in 2007 and started writing in English. Now lives in Edinburgh, hoping for an independent Scotland.

His debut historical fantasy novel, “The Shadow of Black Wings“, has reached Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award semi-finals in 2012. “The Year of the Dragon” saga sold over 30,000 copies worldwide.

His new historical fiction saga, “The Song of Ash” has been on top of Amazon’s Bestseller lists in UK for months.

Connect with James:

Twitter | Facebook | Instagram | Goodreads | Bookbub | Wattpad | Quora

Sponsored By:

BOOK TOUR: Urbex Predator by Jens Boele

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Lost in the wilderness, a desolate barracks becomes a perilous attraction for risk-seekers drawn to the heart of nowhere, as a ruthless gang turns the abandoned settlement into a deadly trap with escalating provocations and brutal violence.

Title: Urbex Predator

Author: Jen Boele

Publication Date: February 4, 2024

Pages: 394

Genre: Horror / Thriller

A relic from the Cold War, the old barracks beckon photographers, influencers, and
adventurers, shrouded in secrets and peril. Nela and Tess dare the eerie ruins for their photography thesis, while Zander, Yelka, Vivien, and Damon embark on a simultaneous shoot. Amid the abandoned shadows, Yelka’s group runs into Steven and his ruthless gang, initially outsmarting them. Yet, Nela and Tess fall victim to a nightfall ambush, escaping but torn apart.

As adrenaline courses through the gang, they stalk Yelka and her friends, unleashing a relentless manhunt. Vivien becomes their captive, setting off a chain reaction. Tess encounters Damon and Yelka, while Nela, guided by Ben, the barracks’ security manager, races to find Tess. Yelka strives to rescue Vivien, trapped in an abandoned outdoor pool.

On his lone pursuit, Zander witnesses the gang’s brutality, delving into a darker realm within himself, spurred by the horrifying thrill of Steven’s actions. The scene propels Yelka, Damon, and Tess into a frenzy, unleashing chaos to liberate Vivien. Nela and Ben, attempting to overpower the gang, witness Yelka and Vivien’s escape as the gang closes in.

With the arrival of Steven’s older brother, Henry, the stakes are set; the old military hospital transforms into a battleground. No one is to leave alive, and a matter of life and death ensues. In the ruthless clash, Nela and Yelka emerge as the lone defenders, while Zander pursues a mission for his own catharsis. In Henry’s basement, dubbed his Hades, the teams converge for a pulse-pounding final duel, where survival is the ultimate prize. 

You can pick up your copy at Amazon.

 

Book Excerpt:

We better find a way out quickly. The editorial’s deadline is getting close, we can’t afford any further delay.

Damon’s words lay upon the group like a heavy burden. He was good at making his personal problems everybody’s business. When he felt spoiled, he meant business. And Damon wasn’t done yet.

“Moreover, we have no Wi-Fi here. Zero, nada, not a bit.”

He let the words sink in, then added, “Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t post anything out here.” He put his phone away and joined Zander.

“Here’s how it’s going down: While the girls are taking photos, you’re looking for an exit that will get us out of here A–S–A–P. Get it?”

“We’ll take the pictures, don’t worry about it” Yelka hooked in from behind. “And tonight, from our hotel, we’ll be able to watch your follower numbers skyrocket in no time.”

“I assume so,” Damon replied curtly. “The sore point in the planning is the way back. But Zander will take care of that. And I know for sure he’ll find a really fast way out for us.” Appreciatively, he patted his shoulders.

“Damon, when do you think we will break the 30,000 mark? I really want that to happen by this weekend.”

“Yes, starlet, we can definitely do that. Your pretty sister will do a fantastic job and Zander will get us back to the hotel in no time.”

Zander wasn’t concerned about Damon’s problems at all. If it were up to him, Vivian should just do blunt erotic shots on the beach or in a studio. Or better, shoot soft porn. That was what it was all about, after all. Maybe he would watch that too. Vivian naked in the sand. Hmm … Anyway, none of this had anything to do with the fascination of abandoned places. And this barracks had so much of it to offer.

“If we continue along this path through the forest, we will soon reach the residential block. From there, another path leads to the recreational facilities. There is a pool, a sports field and a theater, but it could also be used as a cinema. In parallel …”

“Sis, shouldn’t we take a picture of me in this outdoor pool?” Lasciviously, Vivian played with the strap of her top.

“Absolutely” laughed Yelka.

Why wasn’t she actually on his side? After all, he had planned the whole trip just for Yelka. Zander wanted everything to be perfect today. Yet, that wouldn’t work with Vivian and Damon. Honestly speaking, they shouldn’t have joined in the first place. When the forest suddenly opened up to reveal a settlement, Zander’s heart began to pound faster.

Weathered multi-story apartment blocks rose into the sky, overgrown with birch and fir trees. Moss clung to the entrance areas; ivy sought its way upwards. The scenery looked like a modern Sleeping Beauty castle, sprung from the premonition of a sinister dystopia.

For a moment, the group stopped and let themselves be captivated by the magic of the place. Speechless, their eyes wandered up the multi-story buildings, lingering on the dark building openings and absorbing the surreal atmosphere.

“This is incredible,” Yelka was the first to return to her words. She put an arm around Zander and hugged him. “Just incredible.”

Zander felt overwhelmed. His excitement was looking for a channel. “Considering that the residents lived here for 40 years, and nature has taken over for 30 years, then … well …” He didn’t know how to finish the sentence. Zander was overwhelmed, both by the place and by Yelka’s closeness.

“Darling sister, you can start thinking about whether you want to be photographed on the steps or the old climbing frame” Yelka indicated as she dug her camera out of the small backpack.

“The steps are great!” exclaimed Vivian, settling down on the moss-covered steps.

“Perfect,” Damon joined in again as well. “That looks excellent, starlet! Lie back, let your hair fall to the right.”

Zander walked thoughtlessly over the moss that covered the former street. Here, families must have once walked home, children played on the sidewalk, and vehicles drove north to the barracks. With a kick, he plucked the green from the ground and looked at the dark asphalt. This was how the place had been left nearly three decades ago.

He squatted down and let his fingers slide over the old pavement. A shiver came over him. At that moment, he felt the same fascination for these places as Yelka. Stealthily, he glanced over at his secret love as she took photos of her hot sister.

Vivian had leaned back dramatically, her chest up, her hair hanging down behind her. Her belly was exposed, her breasts pressed against the top. She stretched her long legs, like she was riding a bicycle.

Zander’s gaze drifted off to Yelka, who held her camera with both hands. She was shifting positions from time to time. Although she was wearing cargo pants, boots and gloves, she didn’t look one bit less sexy than her younger sibling.

He averted his eyes and let them roam over the facade of the apartment block again, only to look back over at the sisters.

“So, now …” Damon was about to intervene in the shooting when heavy dog barking made their blood run cold.

Yelka stopped her shots, Vivian lost body tension and Damon turned his head.

The big, short-haired yapper hung on the leash of a young guy in his early 20s. His tattooed arms were pumped up, stretching a red shirt. His chest jutted out as he stood wide-legged, holding the dog. A sharply cut face framed his full lips. He wore a gold necklace, his hair was shaved short. Behind him, four boys and a girl had set up. Two of them held metal pipes in their hands, brandishing them menacingly.

“Good day to you all!” The words didn’t sound like a greeting, but more like a threat. “This is private property. No trespassing!” As if to underline his words, the dog growled insistently. The group slowly approached. Those two men carrying the batons grinned menacingly. “The whole compound is surrounded by a concrete wall.”

Yelka was the first to speak up, “Hey, we’re just taking pictures, we’re not destroying or stealing anything.”

“So what?” told Ryder Yelka. “Fuck it, you guys are still illegal. There are signs on the outside walls and gates that state that this place is off limits.”

“Yeah, but you’re still coming here,” the dark-haired boy with the scratched forearm shouted.

“Even though it’s forbidden.”

The group had surrounded the four, leaving no way out. Gazoo barked at Vivian, tugging at Ryder’s leash.

“What you are doing here is forbidden, you know that.”

“Okay, we made a mistake,” Yelka tried to concede. “How about we pack up and get out of here?” Seeking help, she looked over at Zander, but he was transfixed.

“Yeah, you just thought so.” A grim smile played around Ryder’s face. “I want to see everyone’s IDs!”

“IDs out!” repeated Jesse, roaring.

Yelka looked at Zander first, then at Damon. “Please, let us just go our merry way and everything will be cool,” she offered the boys.

Damon had regained his composure and was surveying the situation. Yelka and Zander getting married would be more likely than these guys being security guards. There was danger in the air. They were in the middle of nowhere and were being threatened by a gang of rednecks, carrying a loose dog.

Dave lifted the steel pipe and touched Yelka’s chin. “Ain’t nothing cool here,” Ryder told them. “Either you show us your IDs or else.”

As if to make an example, Dave hit the ground with his club.

Yelka flinched. Gazoo jumped up at her, held back only by Ryder’s leash. “Chop, chop, IDs out!”  Ryder roared indignantly.

“I think we need to make a cut here!” With a brisk step, Damon put himself between Yelka and Ryder. “To me, it seems like a misunderstanding.”

For a moment, there was silence. Gazoo stopped barking, Dave’s steel pipe hovered in the air, and Ryder waited to see what Damon would say.

“My name is Duke. Damon Duke, of Duke Executives.” He spread his arms and stood between Ryder and Yelka.

“We rented this location today to hold a photo shoot.”

He pointed to Vivian, who was still sitting on the steps. “This is Vivian Donahue, one of our most important models, known as Violet-D.”

Damon waited a moment, watching the gang as they stared over at Vivian. He could see the aggression draining from the young men’s faces. Desire appeared in their eyes.

“We are taking pictures for the centerfold today. Vivian’s work needs a relaxed atmosphere. So, I’d be grateful if we could do the shoot without any further disruptions. Later, I’m sure she’ll have time for a short meet and greet with autographs. If you have any further questions, please contact Councilor Wilbanks. Please carry on, we don’t have any time to lose. Hush, hush!”

A stunned silence hung over the scene. The gang hadn’t quite taken their eyes off Vivian when it dawned on them that they had just been set up. Yelka and Vivian were already preparing to resume the photo shoot when Ryder suddenly straightened up again. “Are you kidding me? I want to see your fucking IDs–no photos until I say so!”

“Good,” Damon turned abruptly and held out his ID to Ryder, “that’s me, Damon Duke.” He gave him a moment to compare ID photo and face, then pulled out his cell phone. “And now I’d like to know what company you’re with.”

Damon held the phone to his ear and waited for Ryder’s answer. But he remained silent.

“Mr. Wilbanks, this is Damon Duke speaking. I apologize for the interruption. Contrary to our agreements, we were evicted from the place by security.” His and Ryder’s eyes met. “They didn’t hire any security at all? Then I assume this is a misunderstanding.”

Dave looked at Ryder, waiting for any reaction. But he just stared at Damon indecisively.

“No, I don’t think we need police here. Thank you very much, and again, I’m sorry to bother you.”

Damon dropped the phone into his purse, then pulled out a slew of business cards. “Here you go.”

First, he handed Ryder his card, then to the rest of the gang. “We’re still looking for security employees. If any of you want to make money, you’re more than welcome to contact me.”

Dazzled, the gang looked at each other. “Have a nice day! Now, starlets, we’ll move on to the next location.”

Ryder looked grimly after the Urbexers as they walked on. Soon they would find out what kind of a nice day they were going to have.

 
About the Author
Jens Boele, a veteran media designer in the entertainment industry, brings over two decades of cinematic expertise to his writing. Born in Germany in 1975, Jens embarked on his writing odyssey in his youth, culminating in the publication of his debut book, “Sunshine,” in 2015. This was followed by “Hurensohn,” and his latest spine-tingling creation, “Urbex Predator.” Jens is a genre-bending author, specializing in horror and crime thrillers. His narratives often blur genre lines, weaving intricate tales that plunge readers into the darkest corners of the human psyche. Jens’s storytelling brilliance lies in his fascination with the criminal mind; his villains are always profoundly human, offering readers a chilling examination of the psychological aspects of the criminally insane. Jens sets himself apart by seamlessly integrating classic horror with the gritty authenticity of the present day. This innovative fusion imbues his narratives with a dynamic quality, seamlessly blending archaic thrills with contemporary intrigue, resulting in an immersive reading experience that resonates with both vintage enthusiasts and present-day readers alike. Jens Boele’s latest endeavor takes his work across borders, as “Urbex Predator” becomes his first book to be translated
into English. A globetrotter with deep connections to the United States,
Jens’s passion for exploration and his international perspective, nurtured by family and friends in the US, shine through in his writing, offering readers a captivating blend of horror and cultural diversity.

Visit Jens’ website at https://jensboele.com/.

Sponsored By:

BOOK TOUR: Better Safe than Sorry by Mike Martin

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Better Safe Than Sorry is a light, cozy-like mystery that deals with serious issues facing a small community but also finds ways to celebrate family, food and good friends…

 

 

 

 

 

 

Title: Better Safe Than Sorry

Author: Mike Martin

Publication Date: May 10, 2024

Pages: 251

Genre: Mystery

 

Winston Windflower is (sort of) enjoying his retirement from the RCMP in Grand Bank, Newfoundland, happily spending time with his young family, but feeling a little restless. Corporal Eddie Tizzard is running the Marystown detachment and struggling with the demands of the role while his own family grows. When a new kind of drug threatens the community, a body (the wrong body) is found dead in a hearse, and then another drug-connected mysterious death occurs, Tizzard knows he’s dealing with a deadly menace in their quiet, close-knit community.

Windflower finds himself inexorably (and not unhappily) drawn back into the action, first in an unofficial role to help snare the dealers and then back to active duty in a community that desperately needs his steady hand and good judgement. 

Our favorite Mountie, Sgt. Windflower and his fellow courageous cops in small-town Grand Bank, Newfoundland are back to fight a new threat in this compelling page-turner. Award-winning author, Mike Martin once again brings us a stirring story, blending down-home Newfoundland charm with the warmth of family life. 

You can pick up your copy at Amazon.

 

 

Book Excerpt:

 

 

Some say that April is the cruelest month, but Winston Windflower was pretty convinced that it was March. At least in Grand Bank, Newfoundland. They’d had a relatively mild winter up to this point but now they were getting slammed. Not once but twice. By winter storms that started the day before St. Patrick’s Day and were just ending now on March 19. The locals called the second storm “Sheila’s Brush” as a nickname given to a storm that seemed to occur right after Paddy’s Day. It came from an old Irish legend that claimed Sheila was the wife or sister or mother of St. Patrick and that this dumping of snow is a result of her sweeping away the old season of winter.

Supposedly, that was to prepare everyone for Spring, which the calendar said was about to begin in a week or so. But judging by the current weather and Windflower’s years of experience in Grand Bank, that new season was quite a way off. As he surveyed the banks of snow and checked the weather on his phone, there was more of the white stuff coming. He didn’t mind really. He actually liked the snow and living in this small town on the easternmost tip of Canada.

Until recently Windflower had been an RCMP Officer, a Mountie, but now was the Community Safety Officer for Grand Bank and a number of other surrounding communities. When the local RCMP detachment closed because of budgetary concerns, they needed someone to look after their local policing. The Mounties would look after the big stuff from nearby Marystown, about 40 minutes away, while they hoped Windflower would serve as a deterrent to local criminals who wanted to take advantage of the situation.

So far, so good on the crime front, thought Windflower who had actually spent most of his time doing outreach and crime prevention. In Marystown, however, things were not going so well. 

 

 

 

Interview with the Author:
 

There are many books out there….what makes yours different? 

The Sgt. Windflower Mysteries are different because they are more about the people and relationships and food and family than crime and mystery. I think they’re more fun!

Where is your book set and have you ever been there?  

Grand Bank, Newfoundland on the easternmost tip of Canada. And yes, many times, including the month of August every year.

Do you have another profession besides writing? 

Communications consultant.

How long have you been writing? 

All my life. As a fiction writer about 14 years

What is your next project? 

Book 15 in the Sgt. Windflower Mystery Series

How are you similar to or different from your lead character?  

Sgt. Windflower is who I would like to be when I grow up. Kinder and more gentle.

In one sentence, what was the road to publishing like?  

Long.

What is something you had to cut from your book that you wish you could have kept?  

Death of a character. Too hard on me and the readers

On rituals:

Do you snack while writing? Favorite snack?  

Just coffee. Lots of coffee.

Where do you write? 

At my desk every morning.

Do you write every day? 

1,000 words a day when I am writing a book.

In today’s tech savvy world, most writers use a computer or laptop. Have you ever written parts of your book on paper? 

I wrote my first book longhand. Will never do that again. I still had to type cause no one will do it.

Fun stuff:

Favorite travel spot?  

Cuba

Favorite dessert?   

Chocolate peanut butter cheesecake. What else?

Any hobbies? 

Walking and hiking and sports

What song is currently playing on a loop in your head?  

Mull of Kintyre. Wings

What is something that made you laugh recently?

Too many things… Internet memes  

What is your go-to breakfast item?  

Toast with peanut butter

What is the oldest item of clothing you own? 

Sports jacket from 30 years ago

Tell us about your longest friendship. 

My longest friendship is with my partner, Joan. She is my lifemate and soulmate.

What advice would you give to a first time writer? 

Write, share, read. Repeat.

 

About the Author

Mike Martin was born in St. John’s, NL on the east coast of Canada and now lives and works in Ottawa, Ontario. He is a long-time freelance writer and his articles and essays have appeared in newspapers, magazines and online across Canada as well as in the United States and New Zealand.

He is the award-winning author of the best-selling Sgt. Windflower Mystery series, set in beautiful Grand Bank. There are now 14 books in this light mystery series with the publication of Better Safe Than Sorry. 

Mike is Past Chair of the Board of Crime Writers of Canada, a national organization promoting Canadian crime and mystery writers and a member of the Newfoundland Writers’ Guild and Capital Crime Writers.

His latest book is the mystery, Better Late Than Never.

Author Links  

Website | Facebook | X (Twitter)

 

 

 

 

Sponsored By:

BOOK TOUR: The First Girl (Detective Kate Scott series) by Jennifer Chase

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Detective Katie Scott stares in horror at what she and her K9 Cisco have discovered: seven shallow graves, the bodies of young women each wrapped carefully in a blanket and buried in makeshift coffins in a rural area.

Title: The First Girl: Detective Katie Scott Book 11

Author: Jennifer Chase

Publication Date: December 19, 2023

Pages: 354

Genre: Crime Fiction/Thriller

The cold night breeze slams the barndoor shut with a sickening crash. The girl curled in the corner wakes with a start. Her gold butterfly necklace catches the pale moonlight as she clutches it tight, thinking of her family. Will she ever escape? Or
is this the last face she’ll ever see?

Detective Katie Scott stares in horror at what she and her service dog Cisco have discovered: seven shallow graves, the bodies of young women each wrapped carefully in a blanketand buried in makeshift coffins. Miles of abandoned farmland stretch out from the treeline behind her. Has Katie uncovered the horrifying
graveyard of a monster who has been stealing Pine Valley’s daughters for
years?

Katie quickly identifies one of the victims as Abigail Andrews, a beautiful young woman who disappeared fifteen years ago. Katie is heartbroken that she’ll have to tell Abigail’s mother her darling girl is gone.

When Katie is ambushed working late at the scene, fired upon by an unknown assailant, she knows she must be close to finding the killer. But the shooter vanishes into thin air. And when a new young woman is taken, dark haired and dark eyed like the others, Katie realizes her time is running out. Can she stay alive long
enough to track down this twisted murderer before another young life is
stolen too soon?

“Fast paced, characters intelligent and had each others back. The plot was a bit harrowing, but from what plot entailed I was confident one of the main protagonists, Katie had the situation under control. At least the best of her capabilities as
the situation warranted. This ebook was fresh, tasteful and powerful. It
was a boon to read about a female with military experience who
maintained a level head and who put her knowledge to practice.” ~Amazon 

“AMAZING characters (including Cisco of coarse) & suspense in a twisty plot that sucks you in & never lets you go. Highly RECOMMEND the entire series for some great reading.”  ~NetGalley

“AMAZING characters (including Cisco of coarse) & suspense in a twisty plot that sucks you in & never lets you go. Highly RECOMMEND the entire series for some great reading.” ~Goodreads

The First Girl is available at Amazon & Other Retailers.

Book Excerpt:

The soft breeze blew through the open bedroom window, ruffling the sheer curtain. The evening was still warm from the sizzling day and was now gently cooling into the July night. The crickets played a harmony of music that filtered around the farm and across the acreage.

Lara Fontaine suddenly awoke, a loud sound interrupting her sleep. She sat up in bed and looked around the small bedroom but wasn’t sure what she had heard. In the other twin bed, her best friend Desi was still asleep and breathing evenly. What had disturbed Lara? Her first thought was to wake her friend because it was Desi’s house and she might have some idea what the sound had been, but she decided against it. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, where they dangled, not quite reaching the floor. Still contemplating if she should go investigate, she stared at the closed bedroom door. Even though she was twelve, almost thirteen, she had developed a curious mind and wanted to know the answers to so many things. Everything she saw in her world made her more inquisitive.

Lara stood up, feeling the wood floor against the soles of her feet—it too was warm, like the evening air. Wearing only a white cotton nightgown, she decided to explore. Glancing back at Desi, who was still sound asleep, she went to the door and slowly turned the knob. To her relief, the door hinges were well-oiled and didn’t emit any sound.

A breeze hit her as she stepped into the hallway, which seemed strange. It was as if someone had left a door or a window open. She didn’t slow her pace as she moved forward. For the first time since she woke, she heard a noise, as if a chair was sliding across the floor. It was high-pitched and had an eerie quality about it.

As if being pulled by an unknown force, Lara crept toward the sound. She headed down the hallway, passing closed doors, to the kitchen. The farmhouse plank floors creaked beneath her slight weight. She stopped and listened. Leaning her body toward the sound, stretching on her tiptoes, she assumed she would hear more, but it remained quiet. As Lara let out a breath, her previous curiosity had now diminished, she decided she would return to the bedroom and try to go back to sleep.

But suddenly a strong arm grabbed her around the waist and clamped a hand over her mouth. She instantly struggled, but the man’s strength easily overpowered her as he carried Lara to the back door. She could smell stale cigarette smoke on him and some kind of whiskey. The more she struggled against him, the more she weakened. Her whimpers were the only thing she could express.

The outside air hit her. She kept struggling, hearing her attacker’s rattled breathing next to her ear. Realizing they were heading toward the large barn, she tried to put her legs out in front of her to stop their progress, but it was no use.

“Stop fighting,” hissed the man directly into Lara’s ear. “It’ll be over soon.”

Those words resonated in her mind.

What did he mean?

The crickets abruptly stopped.

Silence.

Holding Lara with one arm, the man pulled open the barn door. The hinges made a terrible squeak, interrupting the quiet.

“Stop!” Lara managed to say. “Please, don’t…” Her arm felt as if it would break.

They moved deeper into the barn.

Lara could smell the hay and the alfalfa. But there was a low murmuring sound that she didn’t recognize. She was forcibly put into an old metal chair and immediately her hands and ankles were secured, and a piece of duct tape covered her mouth.

It was difficult for Lara to focus through her tears, but she forced herself to look around. There were wooden crates filled with metal items, tools, and miscellaneous parts from various pieces of farm equipment. Then she saw her.

In a corner, there was a dark-haired young woman. She too was tied to a high-backed chair, unable to free herself. Her arms, legs, torso, and neck were secured. Her eyes were wide in terror, swollen from crying, and blood ran down her arms and neck from struggling against the restraints.

Lara locked eyes with the woman. So many emotions gripped her. Panic. Desperation. Fear.

The man moved around the area, he was dressed in jeans and a white, stained T-shirt. He appeared to be conflicted, confused, and even a bit panic-stricken as he ran his hands through his hair. Moving back and forth, he went from one box to a table, and then back to another box until he decided what he wanted. He carefully plucked out a long instrument that appeared to be some type of sharp, thin knife and stared at it with curiosity and wonder as if seeing it for the first time.

To Lara’s horror, he turned and approached the woman. With his back to Lara, he attacked the woman with vicious intent. She heard muffled screams as the woman writhed in her seat.

Lara could barely breathe. She thought she would pass out, but her unrelenting terror kept her awake as she shook violently in her chair, watching the horrifying ordeal until it finally came to an end.

The man turned slowly, his shirt soaked in crimson. He looked at Lara as if he wondered why she was there. Still with the bloody tool in his hand, he slowly moved toward her. The weapon was still drenched with the woman’s blood.

“No…” Lara tried to say.

He stood in front of her like a monster, reaching out.

Lara took a short breath. It was the last thing she remembered before passing out.


About the Author
 

Jennifer Chase is a multi award-winning and USA Today Best Selling crime fiction author, as well as a consulting criminologist. Jennifer holds a bachelor degree in police forensics and a master’s degree in criminology & criminal justice. These academic pursuits developed out of her curiosity about the criminal mind as well as from her own experience with a violent psychopath, providing Jennifer with deep personal investment in every story she tells. In addition, she holds certifications in serial crime and criminal profiling. Her latest book is The First Girl.

Website & Social Media:

Website -> https://authorjenniferchase.com/

Twitter -> https://twitter.com/jchasenovelist

Facebook -> https://www.facebook.com/AuthorJenniferChase

Instagram -> https://www.instagram.com/jenchaseauthor/

Goodreads:->www.goodreads.com/author/show/2780337.Jennifer_Chase

 

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BOOK TOUR: The Shade Under the Mango Tree by Evy Journey #LiteraryFiction #CulturalHeritage @pumpupyourbook

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“Gripping. One of the most beautiful books I’ve read in a long time.” 

— International Review of Books

Title: The Shade Under the Mango Tree

Author: Evy Journey

Publisher: Sojourner Books

Pages: 288

Genre: Women’s Literary Fiction / Cultural Heritage Fiction

After two heartbreaking losses, Luna wants adventure. Something and somewhere very different from the affluent, sheltered home in California and Hawaii where she grew up. An adventure in which she can also make some difference. She ends up in place steeped in an ancient culture and a deadly history.

Raised by her grandmother in a Honolulu suburb, she moves to her parents’ home in California at thirteen and meets her brothers for the first time. Grandma persuades her to write a journal whenever she’s lonely or overwhelmed as a substitute for someone to whom she could reveal her intimate thoughts.

Lucien, a worldly, well-traveled young architect, finds a stranger’s journal at a café. He has qualms and pangs of guilt about reading it. But they don’t stop him. His decision to go on reading changes his life.

Months later, they meet at a bookstore where Luna works and which Lucien frequents. Fascinated by his stories and his adventurous spirit, Luna volunteers for the Peace Corps. Assigned to Cambodia, she lives with a family whose parents are survivors of the Khmer Rouge genocide forty years earlier. What she goes through in a rural rice-growing village defies anything she could have imagined. Will she leave this world unscathed?

Inspired by the healing effects of writing, this is an epistolary tale of love—between an idealistic young woman and her grandmother and between the young woman and a young architect. It’s a tale of courage, resilience of the human spirit, and the bonds that bring diverse people together.

Amazon:  https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08KFMR9SG

Also available as an audiobook: 

https://www.amazon.com/Shade-Under-Mango-Tree-Between/dp/B09X7CPYFD/

Barnes & Noble:

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-shade-under-the-mango-tree-evy-journey/1137986157?ean=2940166256980

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-shade-under-the-mango-tree-1

iBooks: https://books.apple.com/us/book/the-shade-under-the-mango-tree/id16069

Book Excerpt  


Prologue

Ov’s thin upper body is slumped over his crossed legs, his forehead resting on the platform. His brown, wiry arms lie limp, the right one extended forward, hand dangling over the edge of the platform. Dried blood is splattered on his head, and on the collar, right shoulder, and back of his old short-sleeved white shirt.

It seems fitting that he died where he used to spend most of his time when he wasn’t on the rice fields—sitting on a corner of the bamboo platform in the ceiling-high open space under the house. It’s where you get refreshing breezes most afternoons, after a long day of work.

The policeman looks down at Ov’s body as if he’s unsure what to do next. He lays down his camera and the gun in a plastic bag at one end of the platform untainted by splatters of gelled blood.

He steps closer to the body, anchors himself with one knee on top of the platform, and bends over the body. Hooking his arms underneath Ov’s shoulders and upper arms, he pulls the body up, and carefully lays it on its back. He straightens the legs.

He steps off the platform. Stands still for a few seconds to catch his breath. He turns to us and says, “It’s clear what has happened. I have all the pictures I need.”

He points to his camera, maybe to make sure we understand. We have watched him in silence, three zombies still in shock. Me, standing across the bamboo platform from him. Mae and Jorani sitting, tense and quiet, on the hammock to my left.

Is that it? Done already? I want to ask him: Will he have the body taken away for an autopsy? I suppose that’s what is routinely done everywhere in cases like this. But I don’t know enough Khmer.

As if he sensed my unspoken question, he glances at me. A quick glance that comes with a frown. He seems perplexed and chooses to ignore me.

He addresses the three of us, like a captain addressing his troop. “You can clean up.”

The lingering frown on his brow softens into sympathy. He’s gazing at Jorani, whose mournful eyes remain downcast. He looks away and turns toward Mae. Pressing his hands together, he bows to her. A deeper one than the first he gave her when she and Jorani arrived.

He utters Khmer words too many and too fast for me to understand. From the furrowed brow and the look in his eyes, I assume they are words of sympathy. He bows a third time, and turns to go back to where he placed the gun and camera. He picks them up and walks away.

For a moment or two, I stare at the figure of the policeman walking away.  Then I turn to Jorani. Call him back. Don’t we have questions? I can ask and you can translate, if you prefer. But seeing her and Mae sitting as still and silent as rocks, hands on their laps, and eyes glazed as if to block out what’s in front of them, the words get trapped in my brain. Their bodies, rigid just moments before, have gone slack, as if to say: What else can anyone do? What’s done cannot be undone. All that’s left is to clean up, as the policeman said. Get on with our lives.

My gaze wanders again toward the receding figure of the policeman on the dirt road, the plastic bag with the gun dangling in his right hand. Does it really matter how Cambodian police handles Ov’s suicide? I witnessed it. I know the facts. And didn’t I read a while back how Buddhism frowns upon violations on the human body? The family might object against cutting up Ov—the way I’ve seen on TV crime shows—just to declare with certainty what caused his death.

I take in a long breath. I have done all I can and must defer to Cambodian beliefs and customs.

But I can’t let it go yet. Ov chose to end his life in a violent way and I’m curious: Do the agonies of his last moments show on his face? I steal another look.

All I could gather, from where I stand, is life has definitely gone out of every part of him. His eyes are closed and immobile. The tic on his inanimate cheeks hasn’t left a trace. The tic that many times was the only way I could tell he had feelings. Feelings he tried to control or hide. Now, his face is just an expressionless brown mask. Maybe everyone really has a spirit, a soul that rises out of the body when one dies, leaving a man-size mass of clay.

I stare at Ov’s body, lying in a darkened, dried pool of his own blood, bits of his skull and brain scattered next to his feet where his head had been. At that moment, it hits me that this would be the image of Ov I will always remember. I shudder.

My legs begin to buckle underneath me and I turn around, regretting that last look. With outstretched hands, I take a step toward the hammock. Jorani rises to grab my hands, and she helps me sit down next to Mae.

Could I ever forget? Could Mae and Jorani? Would the image of Ov in a pool of blood linger in their memories like it would in mine?

I know I could never tell my parents what happened here this afternoon. But could I tell Lucien? The terrible shock of watching someone, in whose home I found a family, fire a gun to his head? And the almost as horrifying realization—looking back—that I knew what he was going to do, but I hesitated for a few seconds to stop him.

More…
 
About the Author

Evy Journey writes. Stories and blog posts. Novels that tend to cross genres. She’s also a wannabe artist, and a flâneuse.

Evy studied psychology (M.A., University of Hawaii; Ph.D. University of Illinois). So her fiction spins tales about nuanced characters dealing with contemporary life issues and problems. She believes in love and its many faces.

Her one ungranted wish: To live in Paris where art is everywhere and people have honed aimless roaming to an art form. She has visited and stayed a few months at a time.

Website or Blog: https://evyjourney.net

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ejourneywriter/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14845365.Evy_Jour

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