Sunday, January 31, 2021

Pump Up Your Book Tour Kick Off: THE WICKED SISTER by Virginia Barlow #Historical #Romance

 

 A really fun twist on a classic story…



By Virginia Barlow



Title: THE WICKED SISTER
Author: Virginia Barlow
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Pages: 328
Genre: Historical Romance


BOOK BLURB:

With her stepfather’s sudden death, Lady Anastasia Covington goes from living a privileged lifestyle to selling vegetables in the village marketplace in the blink of an eye. Alone and at the mercy of her nefarious stepsister, she yearns for love and acceptance.

Disguised as a simple soldier, Prince Percival catches a dark-haired emerald-eyed beauty in his arms. He is bewitched. The more he sees her, the more intrigued he is by her contradictions. Forced to keep his identity a secret, he must somehow convince Lady Anastasia he is the right man for her.

But time is running out. Lady Anastasia’s mother is determined to find a proper suitor and see her wed. And someone wants her dead.


Good book! I had it read within a few days lol. If you like romance and a good Cinderella story but flipped and a few twist and turns I definitely suggest this book. – Amazon Reviewer

I thoroughly enjoyed this unique take on a classic fairy tale. The villainess was so wicked. The heroine was adorable and admirable, and the hero was dreamy. Some humor and some nice twists thrown in, then a perfect ending, made this unputdownable. — Amazon Reviewer

I loved this book! It has been a long time since I sat and read a story this entertaining in one day. I was laughing and crying and felt completely drawn into a whole new world. Very clever twists. Would definitely read again. – Amazon Reviewer



Drat!

She closed her eyes when she went over the edge and waited for the impact. It was not what she expected! She hit against a warm solid something that knocked the breath out of her. Two bands of steel clamped around her and held her still. She opened her eyes cautiously and found herself nose to nose with a very handsome man. Two dark blue eyes gazed intently into hers. Laughter crinkled the corners of his eyes. Locks of black hair fell across his broad forehead.

 “What did you catch, Val?” an amused male voice behind them asked the question.

Val was taking a heated inventory of the woman he held in his arms. He focused on the disarray of her hair, the fullness of her breasts, the narrowness of her waist, and then the soft pink lips so close to his own. He pulled her close against him, amused and intrigued. “I merely asked the gods for their favor on our hunt, and they dropped a goddess right into my arms.” He tightened his hold about her waist and leaned in for a closer look. Desire slammed into him like a battle-ax. He liked what he saw. This angel that dropped from the sky was beautiful with her long ebony hair, green eyes, and pert little nose. Bewitching. He stared at her mouth so close to his and wondered if she tasted as good as she looked. He wanted this enchanting girl.

                                               ****

Anastasia could not move. He studied her through half-closed eyes, like a predator studies its prey. She drowned in the heat of his eyes and all around her was his scent. He smelled of the woods, sunshine, and danger. Her lips parted and her breathing quickened. A tingling sensation began somewhere in the region of her stomach and spread through her whole body. White-hot heat pumped through her veins. Her body hummed with excitement and danger. His gaze moved from her lips, to her heaving chest, and then back to her mouth. He leaned closer still. Every nerve she had screamed with sensory overload. She felt as though she were a tender piece of meat being offered to a hungry wolf. She waited for his touch, her breath coming quickly. His full mouth hovered above her own. If either of them moved the smallest bit…

“Will you put my sister down?”

 Anastasia jumped at the sound.

Beatrice stood right behind her now, her voice indignant.

The man lifted his head slowly and turned to face Beatrice. “I caught her; now she is mine to keep,” he teased.

Beatrice did not look amused at the situation. “Put her down at once,” she commanded. “You cannot hold my sister like that, sir, it is not proper. People are beginning to stare.” “The lady is right, Val. We are about to be the talk of the village,” the other voice said. Val glanced around with a frown of annoyance and set Anastasia on her feet.

 Anastasia dragged in a hard breath. She was dizzy. When her feet touched the ground, her legs wobbled like a young colt.

He stared down into her eyes again, hypnotizing her with his heat. Anastasia blinked up at him, trying to reason beyond the spell he wove around her. She grabbed hold of him to keep her knees from buckling. His arms were thick with muscle, and the fire he radiated almost burned her fingers. He was so tall that his shoulders blocked out the sun. The top of her head did not reach his chin.

Anastasia boldly let her eyes wander over his massive chest and the bulge of muscle visible beneath the coarse tunic he wore. Lord, this man was fit and large. She shivered. Heat pooled into her stomach, as she stood on liquid legs. Was he a soldier of some kind? Surely, nobody could be this well-defined unless he trained regularly. Anastasia tried to speak but her mouth was dry, and her tongue way too big. She licked her lips.

 Val’s gaze flickered to her mouth. Val leaned toward her.

 Anastasia began to quiver against him with some nameless desire.

“Anastasia, will you let go of that man and come with me? Have you taken leave of your senses? What will Mama say when I tell her of your lack of decorum today?’

Anastasia jumped again at the sound of Beatrice’s voice. She looked down in bemusement. Lord, she had hold of his tunic with both hands. She blushed and made her hands let go of him.

 “What is your name?” Val asked.

 “My name is Anastasia,” she answered. She felt the heat in her cheeks. “Thank you for catching me,” she managed to whisper.

“My pleasure,” he drawled. “Anytime you need catching, I will be there, Anastasia.” His voice held a velvet promise, and Anastasia felt her stomach clench. She did not know what to say. In truth, her mind seemed to have deserted her altogether.

 Val winked at her, a slow provocative gesture, then turned to his companion. “Come, Vroknar, there is other game to be caught.”

Only as the beautiful man walked away did Anastasia’s breathing return to normal. Then she became aware that he had not one companion but several.

 “What is wrong with you today?” Beatrice chided. “Have you taken complete leave of your senses?” she asked for the second time.

Confused, Anastasia looked at her. “What senses?”

“I am beginning to wonder the same myself,” Beatrice muttered as she grabbed Anastasia’s arm and dragged her back to their stall. “How could you let a stranger hold you like that? It is not proper for him to be so forward with you. And he is so big. What if he had evil intentions toward you?”

Anastasia had no idea what an intention was, so she asked. Beatrice rolled her eyes. “Did he try to kiss you?” Beatrice sounded more interested now than outraged. But then she bounced back to the outrage. “Why were you not trying to get away? Mama is going to be disappointed in you.”

It was worth it. Anastasia closed her eyes and thought of the strong warm arms that held her, and the beautiful eyes that sucked her soul right out of her body. The heat and the danger made her breathing erratic. Besides, she was getting used to disappointing her mother.





https://youtu.be/uU_rNjP7dKo















Virginia Barlow has a zest for life. She has accomplished many goals including raising a large family. She has been a bookkeeper, a hostess, an EMT-I, a lieutenant in the local fire department, a manager and an author. She likes to knit, crochet, quilt and sew. She is funny, talented and very creative. Virginia looks at life through rose colored glasses and owns it. She is happiest when is at her computer immersed in her current novel. She loves to sip coffee or wine while she contemplates whether to kill off characters in her book or not. Virginia is a good friend and has an endless supply of love for friends and family.




Website: https://www.virginia-barlow.com

Twitter: https://twitter.com/Virgini3514212

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/groups/3046288755596817




A Fallacious Seduction






Sponsored By:



Pump Up Your Book Tour Kick Off: THE MYSTERY AT TURKELTON MANOR by Kraig Dafoe #MiddleGrade #Mystery



An extraordinary middle grade mystery novel for kids 10+…. 


By Kraig Dafoe

Twelve-year-old Nathaniel Jones wants to be a detective. Though his imagination tends to run wild, Nate knows something strange is going on and he is determined to figure it out. Hearing noises at night, the young detective sees a strange figure lurking about. The Turkeltons are rich and Nate’s grandfather is their groundskeeper. As a result, Nate gets to spend the summer on the manor grounds. With priceless art and expensive jewelry in the mix, and someone creeping around at night, Nate becomes determined to catch a thief. There’s just one problem; nothing seems to be missing.




Chapter One

A Shipment Arrives
Mid-day Friday

      Picasso, Dali and Monet were just a few of the artists whose works graced the walls of Turkelton Manor. The museum-like display was worth a small fortune, but no ropes or security guards kept visitors from getting too close.
     Around mid-day on Friday, Nate was riding his bicycle along the long paved driveway of the manor when he noticed a small white delivery van enter through the open gates of the estate.
          Usually closed and controlled by remote, the twelve-foot double gate was currently broken, along with many other things at the estate, which its new owners were in the process of fixing.
     The day could never be boring if Nate’s imagination had anything to do with it, but it seemed he rarely had to depend on his imagination to keep him busy for long, and this sunny summer day was no exception.
     The vehicle had no windows except for the ones up front and, at first, Nate thought it might be Fed Ex, but a sharp glint of sunlight bouncing off the hood of the van kept him from seeing it had no Fed Ex markings, until it got closer and the glare went away.
     Nate was always paying attention to the little things, and his observation skills often amused his family, but it never surprised them as Nate’s father was a police detective and his grandfather on his father’s side of the family was a famous private investigator. Family members commented that it ran in his blood.
          The delivery van stopped just before it reached the  detective and the driver got out and buttoned his suit jacket. The idea that he wore a dark suit struck Nate a little odd, as he was driving a delivery van. The man was small, around five feet, eight inches tall, and very lean. He looked to be in his late forties or early fifties as his hair was beginning to gray above the ears and recede at the top, but it was possible that premature graying made him look older than he was.
     “Hello,” the stranger said politely as Nate stopped his bicycle and stood with it balanced between his legs. “I have a delivery of art for the Turkeltons. Do you know if they are at home?”
     There was something in the man’s tone that made Nate think he sounded like a bit of a snob, but he wasn’t able to put his finger on it. The man spoke as though he had an accent, though only with certain words.
     “I’m not sure,” Nate replied. “I know some people are working at the house though. Just follow the drive straight down,” Nate said, as he looked the direction of the house and pointed.
     The man smiled at him. “Of course,” he said, looking down the drive. The man gave him a little bow and then he unbuttoned his suit jacket before hopping back into the van. As he slowly pulled away, he waved and smiled again.
     The boy turned his bike and followed the vehicle down to the huge house looming in the distance. Pink Dogwood trees lined both sides of the driveway which ran pretty much straight down to the manor. The trees offered, aside from their visual beauty, an aroma that varied from day to day. This day they smelled as pretty as they looked, while other days the odor was downright unpleasant. Nate was familiar with these trees, but didn’t dwell too much on why their smell changed.
     Through the trees, Nate could see much of the grounds. To his right, as he rode toward the manor, was a thick batch of woods. The many oaks and maples intertwined with various other trees struggling for sunlight through the thick canopy. Where the woods ended, a lush green paddock for the horses began. On the opposite side of the driveway was a large pond, or a small lake depending on who was referring to it.
     The boy’s curiosity started getting the best of him and he wanted to see some of the art that was in the van. When the vehicle approached the circular round about in front of the house, the driver was careful not to hit the various other work trucks parked there or drive on the grass in the center. The house was under renovation and the construction crew was still hard at work.
     Nate rode around the circle a couple of times after the man found a place to park. An empty water fountain sat in the center of the grass circle and Nate couldn’t help but think it was big enough to swim in, if it were full. He watched as the man made his way up the curvy brick walk that had low flowering shrubs on either side of it, and then climbed the steep wide stairs leading to the large front door of the manor.
     Nate continued to ride around the circle and watch as the man waited for someone to answer the door. Typically, Nate would be helping his grandfather work on the grounds, but today Grandpa William was running errands and Nate opted to stay behind to help his grandmother with household chores. Nate’s grandfather, on his mother’s side, was the groundskeeper for the estate, which afforded him the opportunity to live on the property, which in turn meant Nate was able to spend the summer enjoying the surroundings.
     After a few moments, the main door of the manor opened, and the man entered, but Nate couldn’t see who answered the door. Aside from the family, there was a part-time staff of helpers plus the construction workers. He hadn’t yet met the Turkeltons as summer had just begun and the family was usually busy, but he knew there were four of them. The two children, one boy and one girl were about his age, but Nate was in no hurry to meet them as he didn’t feel comfortable around people his age and much preferred talking to adults. Nate was shy and this tended to trip him up in conversations. Kids at school often teased him, which is why he usually spent the summers with his grandparents, away from his hometown, alternating between them every other year.
     Nate was from a little town called Crape Myrtle Cove, just forty-five minutes north of Sleepy Shores, where Turkelton Manor is located. This was much closer than his other grandparents who lived just outside of Los Angeles, which was all the way across the country.
     Nate stopped his bike near the delivery van and put the kickstand down. The boy walked up to the van and looked inside through the driver side window to see how much art was in there.
     Though he couldn’t see the entire back of the van, he could see a couple of large pieces still in wooden crates and a dozen or so smaller framed pieces set in racks. There were also four small sculptures and a couple of busts, none more than a couple feet tall.         
     After a few minutes, the man exited the manor with a couple of the construction workers following him. One of the men was at least six foot, two inches tall and very muscular while the other man was smaller, but still in good shape.
     Nate quickly moved away from the van without the men seeing him and repositioned himself nearby, behind one of the other work trucks. He was close enough to hear the construction workers as they spoke and as long as he stayed crouched down, they wouldn’t be able to see him, though if anyone looked out the second floor windows of the manor, they would have no trouble spying the curious boy.
     “I don’t know why we have to unload this stuff,” the smaller one said.
    “Just do it Bobby,” the other replied without looking at his co-worker. “Get it done and we can get out of here for the weekend. The boss said we could cut out a little early today.”
     The three men approached the back of the van. The driver of the van opened the back doors and latched them to the side of the vehicle.
     “Gentlemen,” he said. “Please be very careful. Some of these pieces are priceless.”
     “Really,” Bobby said sarcastically. “I’m sure you put a price on ‘em when you sold ‘em.”
     The man held his tongue and smiled, while nodding toward the construction worker, acknowledging his correctness. The other worker seemed to take everything in stride where the smaller man seemed mad at the world. Nate watched the men as they unloaded the truck. They would have to make several trips up the stairs, which didn’t seem to make Bobby very happy. With each trip, the worker seemed to become more displeased with the task. At one point, he nearly dropped one of the busts and Nate could see the deliveryman flinch when it almost hit the ground.
     “Please be careful my good man,” he said as the man struggled to regain his hold.
     Nate wasn’t sure, but the bust looked like Mozart. The worker hosted the piece to his shoulder.
     “Don’t worry pal, I got it,” he replied sarcastically.
     The deliveryman disappeared inside as the workers came back for the last of the art in the van. They still had no idea Nate was watching them.
     “I wonder how much this stuff is really worth,” Bobby said.
     “Don’t know, don’t care,” the other man replied.
     “I bet these guys wouldn’t even know if something was missing,” Bobby commented. “They’re so rich; this is probably like us buying groceries or something.”
    “Whatever man, let’s just get it done,” the other man said. “I just want to go home.”
   As the two men made the last trip up the stairs, Nate got back on his bike and headed up the driveway toward the gate. After a few minutes, the man in the delivery van left. He saw Nate near the end of the drive and waved to him as he pulled out.
     A few minutes after the deliveryman left, the construction workers filed out, four trucks in all.  Nate saw the one named Bobby in the passenger’s seat of one of the trucks. The man had a scowl on his face as though he was still upset that he had to unload the art.
     Shortly after the workers left, Nate’s grandfather returned from running his errands and Nate spent the afternoon helping him with some odd jobs.
     “You trim the hedges by the manor and along the walkways while I prepare some of the flower beds for planting,” Grandpa William instructed.
     “No problem, Grandpa,” Nate replied.
     Hours passed with the two hardly seeing each other. Around five o’clock Nate and Grandpa William went in for dinner. The boy loved his grandmothers cooking and the three would often have lively discussions about their day. William and Beatty Livingston, both in their mid-fifties, just recently moved into their new home on the same grounds as the Manor, which was a benefit associated with being the groundskeeper.
     “So, what did you do while I was running around today?” Nate’s grandfather asked him. “I could have used your help in town gathering supplies.”
     “After I helped around the house a bit, I rode my bike for a while,” Nate replied. “The Turkeltons got a delivery of art today.”
     “Really?” Grandpa William replied. “Anything interesting?”
     “Yeah,” Nate said. “One of the construction guys wasn’t too happy about having to unload it,” Nate responded with a smile.
     “And how would you know that?” Grandpa William asked.
     “I overheard him talking,” Nate said.
     “Overheard or spied on?” Grandpa William asked with a scowl.
     Nate didn’t respond as he stuffed some mashed potatoes into his mouth and averted his eyes.
     “What have I told you about eavesdropping?” Grandpa William asked.
     “I know,” Nate replied after swallowing. “I shouldn’t go snooping around.”
     “That’s right,” Grandpa William replied. “I know grandpa Jones encourages the matter seeing he was your age when he got started in the private investigation business, but I don’t think it’s appropriate behavior for someone so young.”
     “I’m almost a teenager, Grandpa,” Nate replied.
     “You still have ten whole months to go,” Grandma Beatty replied. “Don’t be in too much of a hurry to grow up Nathaniel. There are a lot of experiences for you to have and you have plenty of time to figure out what you want to be when you get older.”
     Nate already knew what he wanted to be. Though he was twelve at the time of starting his investigation firm, Nate’s Grandpa Jones, with the help and support of his friends and family, quickly made a name for himself and for almost fifty years, his firm, “The Three Investigators,” named for him and his two partners, has been going strong.
     Though Nate didn’t really have much in common with William, and he preferred the summers in California, he still loved William and Beatty very much and they loved him.
     After eating, Nate retired to the basement for a while and crawled into his secret fort to read. Nate built the fort out of the excess furniture and some old blankets and tarps, which were plentiful as the groundskeeper’s house was much smaller than where the Livingstons lived before. Still, the ranch style home was more than they needed and Nate had the basement to himself, unless his grandmother was doing laundry. Piled nearly to the ceiling in some areas, boxes and furniture cluttered what would normally be a family room.       Nate arranged the items so that he would have to crawl under a table piled high with boxes to get inside. A blanket hung to the floor on the inside of the table so it would take great effort to peek inside. This was the only way into his sanctuary and he knew neither his grandfather nor grandmother would crawl underneath to get into the area. Inside the fort were his books, a laptop, a writing desk, some old newspapers and magazines, a television, a chair, a couch and a lamp. The only thing missing from this space was his bed, so when he had free time, this was where he would spend it in the evenings, unless he was playing board games or cards with his grandparents, which they did often to appease him.
     The boy liked to keep up with the world through books, however, on this occasion, he decided on something a little more adventurous and read an Enola Holmes mystery. He had read all the Sherlock Holmes mysteries and, after hearing about several of his grandfather’s old cases, Nate thought reading about a mystery from the female perspective would broaden his senses. 
     Just before dark, Grandpa William yelled down the stairs to his grandson.
     “Nate, can you go out and close the front gate and lock it?” Grandpa William asked.
     “Sure, grandpa,” Nate replied.
     “Make sure you don’t actually lock it though,” Grandpa William shouted.
      “I know, Grandpa,” Nate replied.
     Nate walked out to the gates, as they weren’t far from the groundskeeper’s home. They could be seen from the front windows if it weren’t for the trees that stood in the way. He closed the metal gates and ran a chain around them at the middle. He didn’t lock the gates in case of an emergency, but Nate looped a paddle lock through the chains to give the appearance of a locked gate. When the gate was fixed, they wouldn’t need the chain or lock.
     The sun was just setting over the horizon and the street lamps came on in the cul-de-sac outside the gates. Nate looked around at the other homes in the neighborhood, most of which sat much closer to the road than did the manor. This was definitely a much nicer neighborhood than he was used to.
     No matter where he stayed for the summer, Nate always called his mother every evening. Usually he was too busy to miss home, but he was never too busy to miss his mom and dad.
     Nate returned to the basement of the home, using the outside door on the side of the property that gave him direct access to the basement. It wouldn’t take the boy long to drift off to sleep, when the time came. He read a little more of his book and instead of drifting off in his chair, he opted for the comfort of his bed, not knowing that he wouldn’t be asleep for long.

 

















Kraig Dafoe was born in New York.  Kraig went back to college at the age of 42 earning his BA in English writing, and graduating cum laude from Washburn University in 2017. Deciding to continue his education, Kraig received his Master of Liberal Studies degree in 2019. Kraig is a member of Sigma Tau Delta, the English honor society and The Honor Society of Phi Kappa Phi.

Visit his website at http://www.kwdafoe.com.



The Rise of the Reaper: Duty Calls

Search for the Lost Realm

Skorch the Bounty Hunter

A Collection of Twisted Tales







Pump Up Your Book Tour Kick Off: THE MORPHEUS DECISION by Seeley James #murder #mystery


Jacob Stearne is forced to infiltrate a Neo-Nazi extremists to thwart their plan to kill thousands…


By Seeley James

Title: THE MORPHEUS DECISION: A PIA SABEL MYSTERY
Author: Seeley James
Publisher: Machined Media
Pages: 300
Genre: Murder Mystery

BOOK BLURB:

Who killed Chloe England?

When a friend from her days in international soccer, now a British constable, is murdered, Pia Sabel uncovers an assassination ring catering to the ultra-rich – putting her dead center in their crosshairs.

For most of her life, Pia Sabel worked through the pain of losing her parents, threw herself into her work, and lived with insomnia. Now her doctor warns growing paranoia will soon threaten her mental health. She escapes to rural England to mourn the loss of her friend. On arrival, she is attacked by a mob, dismissed by officials, and ridiculed by high society for inquiring about an English Lord and a British institute. The more people tell her not to ask questions, the more she questions their motives.

Unconquered and unafraid, she investigates the murder and exposes a well-connected web of billionaire suspects. Along the way, she touches a nerve, bringing down an avalanche of killers on top of her. Unable to trust anyone, from the handsome Scot she wants to know better to Britain’s titled class, she must unravel the clues before more victims land in the morgue. Peeling back the layers of deceit, lies and cover-ups, Pia finally discovers the truth about who killed Chloe England. A revelation sure to endanger everyone she loves.

 



CHAPTER ONE

Blood drifted over the curb on its way to the gutter as Chloe England tried to shift her gaze for a better look. Her eyes wouldn’t respond. Not even a blink. Her vision was fixed on the chemist’s across the narrow lane. Closed. And for a long time judging by the dirty windows.

Her arms and legs wouldn’t move either. The blood felt warm on her cheek. Chloe had the strangest feeling it was her blood. After all, she was lying on her side with her face pressed to the cement, but she wasn’t sure why. When she tried to think, all that came to mind was TS Eliot from a boring literature class long ago:

I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,

And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker;

And in short, I was afraid.

She’d rather have been on the pitch playing football than stuck in a classroom reading that drivel.

Chloe sensed a presence lean down over her. Maybe it was a good Samaritan who could help her up. Her muscles weren’t responding. Someone reached over her shoulder and plucked the phone out of her hand. The person disconnected her call.

So, not a good Samaritan.

Chloe felt embarrassed. The stalker just cutoff the voicemail to Pia Sabel before she’d finished. What would Sabel think of the poorly worded message? Rambled on like a fool, she did. To top it off, she’d blanked before telling Sabel what she wanted. Such bad form. A throbbing pain came from the back of her head. Along with the throb came a dim memory of the previous few seconds. She’d been chattering on about the woman in the hospital and her ridiculous story about people who could kill your enemies through their dreams. For a fee. Had she told Sabel that part? It’s what she’d intended to say. Now that she thought about it, she’d prattled on about their rivalry on the soccer pitch. Was that all the further she’d got?

Hardly a rivalry, though. Chloe did her best to defend for England in every game—but who could stop Sabel? Chloe remembered their first encounter. The young phenom was sixteen and out to prove herself in a friendly. Chloe had twenty-five caps by then. She’d considered the teenager a trifle. Young Sabel came straight at her, no fear. Charging in like a freight train. But she was ready. She herded the kid to the sidelines, making the only option to go out of bounds. Sabel played into it, dribbling into a rapidly narrowing lane with nowhere to go. Rookie mistake. Then Sabel popped the ball between them, waist high, smacked it with her knee, sending it over Chloe’s head. Using her height advantage, Sabel jumped in the air like a rocket and headed a perfect cross to the American forward flying up the middle. It happened so fast Chloe could only laugh. What the hell was that? Thank god the game didn’t count for anything.

Sabel was a thorn in her side for the next four years. The Mexicans called her La Tigresa—the tigress—for good reason. And the international press adopted the nickname. But in the privacy of England’s locker room, especially among the defenders, she was known as that cunt. When Chloe retired, she rejoiced that her endless nightmares of Sabel hurtling toward her would finally end.

Now they were both out of the beautiful game. Chloe had bounced around until she found her calling: police constable. Who would’ve thought? All those years leaving your blood, sweat, and tears on the pitch for your country and what career options await you? Sportscaster? A crowded field. Coach? Underpaid profession. Talent scout? Too many rows with desperate parents—whose children didn’t know the difference between a football and a cheese loaf—kept Chloe out of that one. Then Dad suggested she follow him into the Greater Manchester Police, the illustrious GMP. It wasn’t the bright lights and big stage she’d hoped for. It had even caused her some embarrassment when dialing Sabel. How you doing, old frenemy? Running a huge company these days, I hear. Chilling with presidents and prime ministers, are we? Me? Oh, you know, constable. Still. Working on becoming a DI like Dad, though. So, what’s new?

Yeah. That was a tough call.

She hoped she hadn’t botched it. It was important. Sabel’s name was on the nutter’s list. Even if La Tigresa had been hell to defend, she did deserve to know someone had her on a list. It might be nothing, but some of the names on the list were dead. And Chloe hoped Sabel would help her figure it out. Reconnect for some laughs. Maybe.

A warm hand touched Chloe’s neck. Not in a kind way. The person who’d taken her phone feeling for a pulse? She tried to check her heartbeat, too. She wasn’t feeling it. Or was she? Not strong, anyway. Was she dying?

Once, she’d run to the scene of a man hit by a car. It was obvious to everyone around him that he was a dead man with a few seconds of life left, yet he had no idea. He kept apologizing for being a bother.

That’s when Chloe remembered the loud crack. The sound of metal connecting with bone. Big bone. Hollow. Like her skull. Is that where the blood was coming from?

She felt it now. Sliding down the back of her head, into her hair, onto the sidewalk. Someone had smacked her a good one with a baton. They could fix that in casualty, right?

The hand withdrew. Chloe heard someone walk away. The street was empty. Thick dark clouds obscured the remnants of twilight. The heavy sky closed in on her. It would rain soon.

It was her own fault, Chloe realized. She’d been so preoccupied with the call to Sabel—trying not to sound like one of those barking-mad fans—that she hadn’t noticed where she was going. It was a mistake. She’d taken the shortcut. A short, dark lane lined with defunct businesses. Now she wouldn’t have a chance to save Pia Sabel’s life. She wouldn’t be the heroic constable who solved the dreamland-assassins mystery.

Worst of all, there would be no security video of who killed Chloe England.



Amazon → https://amzn.to/2LEBCWe













Seeley James’ near-death experiences range from talking a jealous husband into putting the gun down to spinning out on an icy freeway in heavy traffic without touching anything. His resume ranges from washing dishes to global technology management. His personal life ranges from homeless at 17, adopting a 3-year-old at 19, getting married at 37, fathering his last child at 43, hiking the Grand Canyon Rim-to-Rim at 59, and taking the occasional nap.

His writing career ranges from humble beginnings with short stories in The Battered Suitcase, to being awarded a Medallion from the Book Readers Appreciation Group. Seeley is best known for his Sabel Security series of thrillers featuring athlete and heiress Pia Sabel and her bodyguard, veteran Jacob Stearne. One of them kicks ass and the other talks to the wrong god.

His love of creativity began at an early age, growing up at Frank Lloyd Wright’s School of Architecture in Arizona and Wisconsin. He carried his imagination first into a successful career in sales and marketing, and then to his real love: fiction.



Website: http://www.seeleyjames.com

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






The Element 42

Death and the Damned

Death & Dark Money

Death and Treason

Death and Conspiracy

Death and Deception

Death and Secrets

Death and Vengeance

Death and Betrayal

The Geneva Decision

Bring It