Showing posts with label Happy Book Birthday. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Happy Book Birthday. Show all posts

🎈Happy Book Birthday to 🧁THE MIRROR by P.K. Eden🎈 #bookbirthday

 

We're thrilled to announce the release of P.K. Eden's new book, THE MIRROR today! To help celebrate, we are asking our readers if you can please pretty please pick up a copy at Amazon and come back and tell us how you liked it? Or, leave a review while you're there! 
 

Congratulations, P.K. Eden, on your new release, THE MIRROR!




 
Is Now Available in Paperback & Kindle!
 




Title: The Mirror
Author: P.K. Eden
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Pages: 390
Genre: Urban Fantasy

What if you found out the artifacts from the fairy tales you loved as a child were real and one of them just predicted your death? That’s the dilemma Scientist Ben Michaels faces when Siene Dower, descendant of the Brothers Grimm, tells him that Snow White’s Magic Mirror sent her to stop him from getting into the cab that crashed and burst into flame right before his eyes at the intersection at Penn Station, New York City. Does practical Dr. Michaels dismiss everything he knows about reality and science and follow the curious and beautiful woman who just saved his life?

The Mirror is available at Amazon.

 


“Sit.” Siene motioned to the black sofa next to the door. She walked to the back bookshelf and pulled forward an old book with her forefinger. She skimmed the pages as she walked back to him. About halfway through the book she retrieved a fragile-looking, folded paper with timeworn brown edges.  

She sat next to him. “Show me your palm.” 

Ben held out his hand. “Why? Are you going to read it?”

“Do I look like a fortune teller?”

“You did predict the cab accident,” Ben replied. 

She rolled her eyes and gently unfolded the paper. Carefully, she dropped three brown, shriveled ovals into his palm.

Ben’s brow furrowed. “What are these?”

“Beans.”

“I can see that.” He looked up. “Is this when I ask you why they were hidden in the book?”

“No, you’re supposed to guess.”

Ben lifted an eyebrow. “Do you really want to play games, Siene?”

She crossed her arms in front of her. “Actually, yes. You’re the hot-shot genius. I’m curious to see if that big brain of yours can think outside the . . .” She felt a wicked smile form on her lips “. . . outside the spit glands.”

He shot her an annoyed look and used his forefinger to move the beans around on his palm. They were shrunken but all the same size and shape. Kidney beans, he guessed. Very old kidney beans. He glanced at Siene. “Beans hidden in a book. Did you get them from a prom date instead of flowers and this is your way of telling me that you’re still thinking of the prom king?”  

She saw amusement replace the annoyance on his face. Okay, maybe inside all the gray matter the man had a sense of humor. She’d try sparring with him later. Right now, she had to make a seemingly very obtuse point. “Did your mother ever read you fairy tales when you were a child?”  

“Yes,” Ben replied, still holding the beans in his outstretched hand.

“Which ones?”

“The usual. Hansel and Gretel, Little Red Riding Hood, the Shoemaker and the Elves.”

“What about Jack and the Beanstalk?” 

Ben glanced down at the beans in his hand and then back at Siene. “Of course, and I suppose you’re going to tell me these are magic beans.”

Skepticism lit his eyes and Siene knew he wasn’t quite there yet. “I know I’m asking a lot, but for a minute, just send all the Einstein stuff to the back of your gray matter and go with it.” His expression told her he thought she was nuts and she suspected ninety-nine percent of the world’s population would probably agree with him. “I guess laymen might say they are magic.”

“Laymen.” Ben paused before shooting her a probing stare. “People off their meds like you, you mean.”

She held up her finger. “You agreed to go with it.”

“No, I did not.”

“Let’s pretend you did. These beans are the last ones left.  It drives my brother, Reed, crazy that I keep them in a book.  He thinks it’s the first place a Taltoian would look.” She held the book up so he could see the title.

“Taltioan?”

“I’ll get there in a minute.” She lifted her chin. “Look at the book.”

White paper showed through the frayed corners of the cover and the embossed lettering worn low by the passing years made the words hard to read. He leaned closer and squinted. Tales by the Brothers Grimm. His head snapped up. “Is this an original edition?” He turned the book over and then back. “It looks very old.”

Siene nodded. “They are my great-great--maybe another great, maybe not, it really doesn’t matter at this point--Uncles Jacob and Wilhelm. The book has been passed down through the generations.”   

Ben’s wide-eyed gaze flared. “You are crazy. You expect me to believe these are the magic beans they wrote about? That if you plant them, a stalk will grow as high as the clouds and if we climb it, we will meet a giant who has a goose that lays golden eggs?”

“Yes, and other things. A golden harp…”

Ben stood. “This has been an adventure to say the least, and I will admit you might have a very valuable book that could command millions, but you being related to the Brothers Grimm, “ he looked down at his hand, “And these are magic beans, I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

He handed her back the book and held up fingers in a vee. “Two reasons. One, I suspect if there actually was a goose that laid golden eggs, some billionaire would own it and two, a giant, by sheer atomic weight and mass, cannot stand or live on a cloud.”

Siene shrugged. “Whether you believe me or not, it’s still true.”  

“Which part?”

“All of it.” She slipped her hand under his. “I better take those back now.” She carefully placed the beans inside the paper and back into the book.  

Ben remained still for several minutes as though processing the information he just heard. “It appears your uncles, if they truly are,  are not the only ones who can tell tall tales.”

She put the book back on the shelf. “They wrote the stories to protect the artifacts.”

“Artifacts. Like those in a museum?”

She looked at him and smiled. “No, the ones in my uncles’ stories.”

“Which stories?”
“All of them.”

– Excerpted from The Mirror by P.K. Eden, The Wild Rose Press, 2024. Reprinted with permission.

 

 

P.K. Eden is the alter ego of multi-published and award winning authors Patt Milhailff and Kathye Quick whose debut novel FIREBRAND was lauded as comparable to the Harry Potter series, garnered 5-Star reviews, and won numerous  Reviewer’s Choice Awards.

Born long, long ago in a place not so far away, Shenandoah, Pennsylvania, Kathryn Quick has been writing since the Sisters in St. Casmir’s Grammar School gave her the ruled yellow paper and a number two pencil.  She writes contemporary and career romances, romantic comedies, historical romances as well as urban fantasy. 

Kathye has twenty fiction books in print with various publishing houses and one non-fiction compilation of her town’s history at the behest of the Manville Library Bord.  She was honored to have been named an Amazon top 100 Romance Author for Ineligible Bachelor published by Montlake Romance. Other works include a three book  Grandmother’s Rings Series – Amethyst, Sapphire and Citrine, a rom-com series that follows three siblings as they use their Grandmother’s Rings given to them by their mother to find their soulmates. 

Because she has been fascinated by King Arthur and his knights for almost forever, her series Beyond Camelot, Brother Knights, is her vision of how the majestic kingdom may have survived after Arthur. Two books are written in this series with the third and final still in concept.

She is a founding member of Liberty State Fiction Writers and has been a part of Romance Writers of America and New Jersey Romance Writers.

She is married to her real-life hero, Donald, and has three grown sons, each having romantic adventures of their own. Her two grandkids, Savannah and Dax, happily cut into her writing time but she still manages to get a few pages done each day.

Website & Social Media:

Website www.Kathrynquick.com  

Twitter ➜ https://x.com/KQuickAuthor

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

Instagram ➜ https://www.instagram.com/kathrynquickauthor/

Goodreads https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/217228581-the-mirror

***

Thanks to novelist and editor, Dr. Nathasha Brooks-Harris who invited Patt Milhailff to write for several TRUE CONFESSION lines of magazines where she learned tight and entertaining writing and resulted in the publication of more than two hundred short stories and articles.

One of Patt’s most gratifying experiences was when she moderated a standing room only workshop at the African American Romance Slam Jam in 2004 and has since enjoyed speaking engagements at libraries, book clubs and other forums. 

She was awarded 2009 Author of the year and 2010 Mentor of the year by Romance writers of America, New York City Chapter, a terrific organization that helped her to obtain valuable lessons and insight while on her writing journey. 

Patt is also featured in A Dream Deferred, A Joy Achieved, a non-fiction novella by Charise Nesbit a co-producer at Tyler Perry Studios, about foster care, as well as being included in two of Times Bestselling Author Zane’s anthologies. 

Patt is one half of the writing duo P.K. Eden along with Kathye Quick, authors of Firebrand,  that received a five star Affaire de Couer Reviewer’s Choice Award. 

She is also a member of Liberty States Fiction Writers the home of a magnitude of talented writers and fellow authors and is the author of nine novels.  

Patt was raised, and educated in New York City, residing in  New Jersey, and has since relocated to Delaware.

Social Networks for P.K. Eden:

Follow on Twitter: https://x.com/PKEdenAuthor 

Follow on Facebook:https://www.facebook.com/P.K.EdenAuthor

Follow on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/p.k.edenauthor/

 
 






This birthday greeting is brought to you by the kind folks at Pump Up Your Book. May we send our heartfelt congratulations to P.K. Eden and their new release!




🎈Happy Book Birthday to 🧁THE MERRY MATCHMAKER by Sheila Roberts🎈 #bookbirthday

 


We're thrilled to announce the release of Sheila Roberts' new women's fiction/romance novel, THE MERRY MATCHMAKER today! To help celebrate, we are asking our readers if you can please pretty please pick up a copy at Amazon and come back and tell us how you liked it? Or, leave a review at Amazon! 
 

Congratulations, Sheila, on your new release, The Merry Matchmaker!




Is Now Available in Hardcover, Paperback, Kindle & Audiobook)!
 





 

Title: The Merry Matchmaker
Author: Sheila Roberts
Publisher: MIRA
Pages: 336
Genre: Women's Fiction/Romance

Inspired by Jane Austen’s Emma, this joyful Christmas romp tells the story of a woman who can’t stop trying to help everyone around her find their happily-ever-after—even when her help leads to disaster.

Frankie Lane knows what’s best for just about everyone but herself. Her divorced sister, Stef, who is too young to give up on love; her shy employee, Elinor; and her daughter, Natalie, who works in Frankie’s shop, Holiday Happiness, and really needs to start her own business selling the delectable chocolates she makes at home; even her best friend, Viola, who is trying to renovate her old Victorian. Frankie knows she could help all of them, if they’d just let her—and if all of her help didn’t end in utter disaster.

Then there’s Mitch Howard, the owner of the local hardware store. They’ve been friends ever since Frankie opened her store, nine years earlier. He got her through the nightmare when she lost her husband in a freak accident, and he’s her favorite shoulder to cry on. He’s been divorced for years, and it’s such a waste of man! Mitch is the fittest, finest man Frankie knows. He’s easygoing, wise and kindhearted. Mitch needs someone. And she’s determined to help him find that someone—whether he likes it or not.



 


WHO KNEW THAT THE WORD HELP COULD TURN INTO A whole other four-letter word? Not Frankie Lane, that was for sure.

Although it wasn’t help that her friend Viola muttered when the two women stood looking at the pile of wallpaper that had slid down the wall and onto the floor in the dining room of Viola’s fixer-upper Victorian. The section Frankie had put up, not Viola’s.

“I don’t understand what happened,” Frankie said, gaping at it.

Viola heaved a sigh.

Everything had looked fine before they’d stepped into the kitchen in search of wine to celebrate the completed job. By the time they were back in the dining room to toast, the wall-

paper was toast. Soggy toast. Frankie had to get back to her shop, and here was…this. Obviously, she couldn’t leave her friend with such a mess.

“I’ll just put this back up again,” Frankie said, hurrying over to the sodden pile.

Viola rushed after her. “No! Don’t touch anything. I know you want to help.”

“I do!”

“But please don’t.”

Ouch. That hurt.

This had all been Frankie’s great idea. “You have to have wallpaper in an old Victorian,” she’d said. “It will look so cute with the wainscoting,” she’d said as she showed her friend

what she’d found online.

“I don’t think wallpapering is your forte,” Viola said in an attempt to remove the sting. “Anyway, you should get back to the shop. We can drink our wine this evening. Terrill won’t

be home until the wee hours.”

“Are you sure? I can get it right this time, and I hate to leave you with this mess. It won’t work for your blog.”

“Sure, it will. Every home improvement project has set-backs. This will make my finished project look more impressive. Anyway, your mom’s probably ready to throttle you by

now for leaving her in charge for so long.”

“Are you kidding? Mom loves being in charge, and I haven’t been gone that long. But you’re right. I should get back. How about I make this up to you by picking up a pizza for us?”

“Excellent idea,” Viola approved. “And ask Adele not to hate me for stealing you on Small Business Saturday. I forgot about that when Terrill deserted me to go to work.”

“It’s okay. We weren’t that busy. Yesterday was our big day.”

But Viola was right. Frankie had a business to run, and she needed to get back to it.

She got into her Prius and headed off to beautiful downtown Carol, where she had her shop, Holiday Happiness.

Thanksgiving was over, and the shop, which featured all manner of Christmas decor, had done a whopping business the day before with customers crowding in to take advantage of

the Black Friday sale, check out the latest Christopher Radko ornament or pick up an Advent calendar. Or simply chat.

Downtown was now decorated for Christmas, thanks to all the shop owners and the chamber of commerce getting busy Friday morning. The lampposts were ringed with red plastic ribbon tied in bows. Swags of greenery and fat old-fashioned lights hung over shop windows, and the big banner strung across Main Street announced A Carol Christmas—Santa Walk December 21.

The Santa Walk had been Frankie’s brainchild, and this would be its third year. All the downtown shops would be offering coupons and special discounts and passing out treats.

Santa would come to town and set up in the town square gazebo. Mrs. Claus would be on hand to accompany him during the Santa parade and to help greet the children who were

excited to see him as well as their parents.

Frankie had been Mrs. Claus both previous years and was looking forward to a repeat performance. After all, she was Mrs. Holiday Happiness.

She didn’t go right into her shop. Instead, she walked next door to Handy’s Hardware, which would be the perfect place to get an apology prezzie for Viola. With all the work she and

her policeman husband, Terrill, were doing on their house, the hardware store had become their home away from home.

Terrill happened to be cruising by in his patrol car. He stopped and let down his window and called, “How’d it go?

Am I still Mr. DooDoo?”

Frankie snickered. “Maybe. She wound up calling me to help her finish.”

“Did you?”

“Sort of but not really. I’m on pizza patrol.”

“All the works?” he asked.

“Of course,” she replied. “If you’re lucky, we’ll save you some.”

He gave her a thumbs-up and cruised on down the street. Pizza would go a long way in making up for the wallpaper mess she’d left her friend with. Hopefully a Handy’s Hardware gift card would do the rest.

The hardware store was ready for Christmas. Someone had made fresh popcorn in the circus popcorn cart, and the aroma made her mouth water. No popcorn for her today, though.

She was on a mission.

She moved past the display of artificial trees and the shelves of Christmas lights and garlands and went straight to the checkout, where she selected a card with a hammer on it and Handy Holidays written above it in red. She spotted her pal Mitch Howard in the paint section and, after purchasing the card, went over to say a quick hi.

A hefty fifty something man in Carhartts ogled her as she walked past. She wasn’t dressed to inspire ogles in her jeans and boots and the old letterman jacket that had belonged to her husband, Ike, but she was still good-looking enough to attract attention. And she appreciated an occasional ogle (as long as it didn’t turn into a leer).

Fifty had been a hard birthday. Even though she was fit and her hair was still a rich auburn thanks to her hairdresser, she felt the passing of time like an insult with those tiny wrinkles

digging into her face and the gray hairs that were constantly multiplying and kept her going to the salon. When it came to aging, Mother Nature was not very nice to her daughters.

But oh well. What did it matter, really? Frankie wasn’t in the market for anyone to replace Ike. He was irreplaceable, and it had broken her heart and shredded her world when she

lost him four years earlier. The kid who’d taken him out had been texting and driving and had felt terrible, but feeling terrible after you’ve killed someone wasn’t enough to bring the

person back.

The community had come alongside her, offering sympathy, hugs, meals and cards, and her family and friends had checked in on her often. She’d felt their love, but nothing could replace the love she’d lost. She soldiered on, keeping the shop going, keeping her life going, reminding herself to be thankful for the people she still had left—her mother, her sister, her

daughter, Natalie, and Natalie’s little family.

And Mitch Howard, who owned Handy’s. He had been there for her both when she first started her business and again during that awful time after Ike died.

“You’ve got this,” he’d said seven years earlier after she’d signed the lease for her shop and then instantly experienced a confidence crisis. He’d said it again when he stopped by Holiday Happiness a month after Ike’s memorial and she’d confessed that she didn’t think she could go on.

“Yes, you can,” he’d assured her. “You’re a strong woman.”

He kept stopping in, often with a latte from The Coffee Stop just a couple doors down from their businesses. Next thing she knew, she was returning the favor.

It was only natural they would become close. They already were friends. She and Ike had known Mitch before she’d opened her shop and become business neighbors with him.

Of course, everyone with a house knew Mitch.

He’d taken over the hardware store after his father retired and his parents moved to Arizona. Mitch himself had moved away for a while, but he returned and settled right back in,

working again in the same store that had employed him as a teenager. Eventually he became the owner.

He was Frankie’s favorite pal, always up for helping her test out a new cop show or watching a Seahawks game together.

Like her, he was single; unlike her, he was divorced with an ex- wife who was ancient history. He was a great guy—fun-loving and kind and easygoing. And handsome—slim but broad-shouldered, with a perfect square jaw and dark hair turning to salt and pepper at the temples. Then there was that lopsided smile that her mother once said made her think of Harrison Ford. When he was young…oh, baby!

(Mom had been in touch with her inner cougar for years.)

Mitch was probably the fittest fifty-eight-year-old man in town. Him being single was a waste of man, if you asked Frankie. Not that he had.

“Leave the poor man alone,” Ike had said whenever she’d talked about finding someone for Mitch. “He’s smart enough to figure out what he wants and go for it.”

Still, she’d persisted in trying to set Mitch up because Frankie was convinced that, when it came to love, very few men were smart.

“You’re a fine one to talk,” her mother had said. This was after Frankie had shared her profound observation a few months earlier, after her latest attempt to help Mitch had failed.

“It’s different for me,” Frankie said.

Unlike Mitch and his ex, there had been no parting by mutual consent. Frankie didn’t need to try again and do better. She’d had a great marriage only to have her man snatched violently from her. One minute Ike had been off to go for a run and the next he was gone. His death had left a hole in her heart that refused to completely close. She doubted it ever

would, and even if it did, she had no desire to put herself in a position of facing such a loss again.

“Hey there,” Mitch greeted her as she joined him. “How’s the wallpapering going?”

“Hers or mine?”

He cocked his head, studied her. “Let me guess. Something went wrong.”

“Only on my side of the wall. Doing penance.” She held up the gift card, and he chuckled. “And I’m taking pizza over after I close up.”

“Can’t screw that up,” he said.

She frowned. “I hope not. I suck.”

“Nah, you don’t. It’s not easy to hang wallpaper. Anyway, you have other talents.”

“Like?”

“Helping people.”

The way she’d helped Viola. Frankie gave a snort.

“You’re good at making things happen.” He pointed out the window to where the banner hung. “The Santa Walk’s been a big success. People love you, Frankie. Not everyone

can say that.”

“It’s nice of you to say it.”

“Just speakin’ the truth.”

“Thanks for making me feel better.”

“Call it an early Christmas present. We still on for Cop Stop tomorrow night?”

“Absolutely,” she said. “I’ve already got the chips and salsa.”

“Good,” he said with a nod. “I’ll bring the beer.”

A blonde in black leggings, thigh-high boots and a pink wool coat strolled over. “Hi, Mitch,” she purred. “Can you help me pick out some paint for my bedroom?”

Gack, thought Frankie in disgust.

“Be right with you,” Mitch said with a smile.

“You can do better than that,” Frankie said as the woman sashayed away.

“Yeah? How?”

She could tell by that lopsided grin that he was teasing her.

She pointed a finger at him. “You need help.”

“There’s a lot of things I need, Frankie, but you helping my love life isn’t one of them. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d better go help my customer,” he added with a wink. “Try not to be jealous.”

“You should be so lucky,” she said to his retreating back.

“Stubborn man,” she muttered, and left to go next door to her shop.

Honestly, Mitch could have his pick of women. He shouldn’t be living alone, eating takeout and tuna fish sandwiches. Getting hounded by predators in pink coats. What if one of them

succeeded? Mitch needed someone special, someone with some depth to her, someone who would see him as more than a big slice of beefcake. He really needed a guiding hand. Hers.

Of course, whoever he wound up with would have to share because Frankie had no intention of giving up her best buddy.

All the more reason to help him find his perfect Mrs. Claus.


 
 


 
 





This birthday greeting is brought to you by the kind folks at Pump Up Your Book. May we send our heartfelt congratulations to Sheila and her new release!




🎈Happy Book Birthday to 🧁THE DEATH OF THE KREMLIN CZAR by Joerg H. Trauboth🎈 #bookbirthday

 

We're thrilled to announce the release of Joerg H. Trauboth's new thriller, THE DEATH OF THE KREMLIN CZAR today! To help celebrate, we are asking our readers if you can please pretty please pick up a copy at Amazon U.S. or Amazon Germany and come back and tell us how you liked it? Or, leave a review at Amazon! 
 

Congratulations, Joerg, on your new release, THE DEATH OF THE KREMLIN CZAR!





Is Now Available in Kindle (U.S. edition) and Paperback, Hard Cover, Kindle (German edition)!
 



 

Title: The Death of the Kremlin Czar
Author: Joerg H. Trauboth
Publisher: Gedankenkunst-Verlag
Pages: 468
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).



“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.


 
 


 
 





This birthday greeting is brought to you by the kind folks at Pump Up Your Book. May we send our heartfelt congratulations to Joerg and his new release!

Now let's all hold hands and sing happy birthday to The Death of the Kremlin Czar!