Thursday, October 29, 2015

PROMO: Broken Flowers

Psychological Suspense / Thriller
Date Published: September 2015

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A dramatic psychological suspense/thriller about the devastating consequences of drug addiction, Broken Flowers is a powerful story about brokenness, healing, and hope.

Dr. Mary Crawford is a fifty-year-old psychotherapist operating a successful practice in Los Angeles. Noted for her addiction assistance and suicide prevention techniques, she leads group therapy sessions with addicts in the throes of recovery.

During one particular session, she is called upon for a case involving an extremely depressed fifteen-year-old girl who was the victim of a violent rape and has survived a suicide attempt. The daughter of a noted brain surgeon, the troubled teen becomes the doctor’s private patient.

But on a day when the young girl spirals into a suicidal depression, she is unable to reach the doctor and successfully ends her own life. When the girl’s father discovers the circumstances of his da
ughter’s suicide—as well as the real truth behind the doctor’s mysterious absence—he vows to destroy the doctor at all costs. Now Dr. Crawford’s life hangs in the balance, and her only hope for survival is the broken people around her.


Then Valarie handed the pipe and torch to Stu, who turned off the torch and put them down. The boys were watching Valarie, and were tripping out on the hit she had taken. Valarie held her breath for as long as she could. When she could not hold back anymore, she let the smoke out in a huge exhale. Jeff’s voice was filled with admiration as he told her, “That was one hell of a blast.” Suddenly, Valarie’s eyes went wide, and her body went absolutely stiff. A horrible sound was coming from her throat, like a constricted scream as she fell backwards. Even though this was happening in front of the two men, her fall was like she was thrown backward. They could not catch her, and she hit the floor hard.

 Jeff dropped to one knee beside her as he was starting to panic. “My God, Stu she’s overdosed. What do we do?”

Stu was on the floor next to Jeff. “Don’t panic man, don’t panic.”

 Jeff grabbed Valarie’s shoulders and shook her. Valarie’s legs were convulsing. There was drool coming from her mouth.

 Stu was screaming in her ear. “Valarie, Valarie! Do you hear me; do you hear me dam it? Stu, go get some ice water. A lot of it. Hurry man!”

As Jeff ran out the door Stu continued to shake the girl.  Her legs stopped shaking and her eyes were starting to close.

“Hurry, Jeff we’re losing her.”

 Stu slapped Valarie sharply across the face. There was a slight reaction. Her legs started to twitch as Jeff came running into the room with two buckets of ice water.
 “Quick, throw a bucket on her face.” Jeffery did so. The water drenched Valarie’s hair and shoulders. Her legs started to convulse again.

 Jeffery was crying, “Valarie don’t die. Please don’t die.”

About the Author

Howard Finkelstein is 77 years old, who lives with his wife and dog in South Pasadena. He is a master dog trainer, and ASCAP lyrist. He is a former drug addict who has not used drugs in 27 years. Broken Flowers is his first novel.

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Wednesday, October 28, 2015

PROMO: Bringing Boomer Home

Young Adult - Family Saga - Sports Fiction
Date Published: August 2015

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Cody’s worst day, was the day his brother – his best friend, left to join the Army. Boomer’s worst day was yet to come.

In high school, Cody followed his big brother’s blocks on the football field. Now, it is his time to lead. Cody and his girlfriend, Kim, embark on a journey to reveal the hero beneath the scars and bring Boomer home.


Cody couldn’t breathe. After the vicious hit, the defensive end pinned him to the turf. He tried to push off the overpowering weight, but he didn’t have the strength. Suddenly, a huge hand grabbed the linesman’s shoulder pads and tossed him like a rag doll to the field.

“You OK, Little Bro?” Boomer asked.

Cody’s chest expanded as he sucked in a deep breath of air. Boomer leaned over him with his face partially concealed by his football helmet and hidden by the shadows cast by the overhead stadium lights. Cody could see his brother’s eyes filled with worry.

He didn’t answer. He extended his hand. Boomer pulled him to his feet. Jogging back to the huddle, Cody stole a quick glance at the scoreboard. He wasn’t worried about the points. They were down by five. A touchdown would still win the game, but they only had time for one more play. One more play against their archrival Panthers. Their season wasn’t built on how many games they won, the only thing that mattered was if they beat the Panthers. That, and the fact that this was the last high school football game he would play with his brother, made Cody want to take a time-out and make it last a lifetime.

The tight end ran the play in from the Coach. Cody called the play in the huddle, but he knew it didn’t matter. The real play would depend on how the defense set up. The goalposts seemed like miniature toothpicks across the field. He wiped his sweaty hands on his pants. His heart was pounding so hard that it hurt. He slid his hands under the center and surveyed the defense. He knew it was going to be a blitz. He stepped away from the center and motioned his running back to stay in and block. Back under the center, his voice broke as he tried to bark out the count. He gripped the football and started to back away. Rising up for the block, the center’s heel stepped on top of Cody’s foot. He stumbled. Falling, he managed to pivot and get his hand down to keep his knees from touching the turf. The running back blocked one of the blitzing linemen.

Cody scrambled. Time slowed down. He felt like he could see every player on the field. The wide receiver streaked down the sideline. Cody rolled with him.

He could hear the defensive end coming up on his blind side. Instinctively every muscle in his body tightened for the impact. Boomer charged in front of him. He heard the deafening collision of two mammoth bodies.

The wide receiver pulled away from the Panthers safety. Cody planted his back foot and threw the ball as hard as he could. He lost it in the stadium lights, then watched it spiral back to earth. The wide receiver and the Panthers safety together looked back over their shoulders. The Panthers safety slowed and the under thrown football drifted into his hands.

Cody collapsed to one knee. He wanted to scream to drown out the cheers from the Panthers bleachers that echoed in his football helmet.

Boomer grabbed his brother’s shoulder pads and yanked him to his feet.

“Come on, Little Bro.”

Cody tugged off his helmet. He couldn’t meet Boomer’s eyes. He felt like someone pulled a pin and all the air had left his body. He struggled to put one foot in front of the other. When he reached the sideline the flash from the camera blinded him. When his vision returned he saw Kim, the girl with the camera.

In the locker room shower, the steam was thick as fog. Cody let the cascading water mask his face and feelings. The disappointed and frustrated crash and smash of his teammates’ fists and helmets against lockers had stopped. What voices that were left were subdued and then finally silent. He dried off, then wrapped the towel around his waist. The locker room was empty except for boy-man giant sitting on the bench. Cody walked down the aisle and collapsed next to his brother.

“You’re only a sophomore,” said Boomer. “Next year you’re going to be so frigging tough.”

“You won’t be here next year.” Cody rubbed his bruised ribs. “I wanted this game so bad. I wanted us to win.” Pain and frustration coated his words, “I screwed up. If only I let the ball go a second sooner.”

Boomer’s massive hand massaged the back of Cody’s neck.

“Whoa. Where’s this coming from? How many times have I told you, you never get down on yourself?” Boomer squeezed the back of Cody’s neck and gently shook his head. “You played a great game. That’s what I’ll remember.” Boomer groaned as he pushed up from the bench. “Get dressed. Let’s get out of here.”

They walked together across the deserted high school parking lot. The fire-engine-red Ford F-150 truck gleamed under the stadium lights. Cody tossed his bag in the back of the truck then sat in the passenger seat. Boomer pulled his towel from his bag. He wiped off gravel dust that settled on the truck, his face mirrored in the shiny hood.

Boomer got in and started the truck, then pulled out of the lot. His head was round like a pumpkin, his hair cropped short, his ears seemed too small for such a large head and his nose was slightly bent from being broken more than once. When at ease, his natural expression was a slightly tilted up smile with a boyish inquisitiveness reflected in his brown eyes. He wasn’t really a giant, but at 6 foot 5 and 260 pounds, he seemed that way when he walked the high school halls.

Cody powered down the window. The cool autumn breeze couldn’t blow away his feeling of despondency, nor could the tires humming on the two-lane asphalt country road as the high school lights retreated into the background. He could still see the football falling short into the Panthers safety’s hands and hear the cheers that weren’t for him and Boomer.

Cody shook his head and mumbled, “Shit.”

“Let it go.”

Cody stuck his head out the window. The wind blew tears from his eyes.

The truck’s headlights illuminated the stop sign. Instead of turning left for home, Boomer turned right.

“Where’re you going?” asked Cody.

“You need to chill.”

The country road followed the bends of the river that led to the small town of Grand Rapids. Most of the stores lining Main Street were closed, and tonight the town seemed as subdued as Cody’s feelings. A few cars were parked in front of O’Malley’s bar, and at the Dairy Queen at the end of the block. Boomer stopped at the flashing stoplight, then drove into the darkness at the edge of town.

Boomer slowed, then turned onto the gravel road leading down to the rapids. He turned off the headlights and drove by feel, pebbles crunching under the tires.

The harvest moon bathed the rapids with ashen hues. Boomer turned off the engine. “Come on.” He didn’t wait for Cody to follow.

Cody slipped going down the steep embankment. He dug the sides of his shoes into dirt, then jumped the final few feet to the riverbank.

Boomer was already in the river jumping from one rock to the next. A large granite outcropping rose up from the water a third of the way across the river. Boomer jumped and grabbed the edge, then hauled himself up to the flat surface. He sat on the edge, then looked back at his brother.

Cody strained to see the rocks beneath the surface of the rapidly flowing water. The first time he saw Boomer go out to Buffalo Rock, he really thought his brother could walk on water. In spring, when Walleyes run, the rocks are completely submerged by melting winter snow. But in summer and fall, when the water level falls, if you knew where to look, you could see the stepping stones. He jumped to the first rock and felt cold water seep into his gym shoe. He skipped to the next one. Now both shoes were wet. A cloud passed beneath the moon and suddenly it was like he was wearing dark sunglasses. He stood still waiting for moonlight to return while listening to the river.

Boomer reached out his hand. Cody locked his hand around his brother’s forearm and Boomer lifted him up to the boulder. They sat side by side with their legs dangling over the edge. Cody fell under the spell of rippling water. The riverbanks were lined with tall trees that stood like dark silent sentinels. Beyond the rapids were islands in the stream and the distant glow of a city where the river merged with the lake. A breeze stirred and trees rustled. Cody inhaled the river’s primeval scent of mud and decaying leaves. He rested back on the boulder, cupped his hands under his head and tried to see stars through moonlight.

About the Author

Terence O'Leary was born in Chicago, Illinois, but has spent his teenage and adult life in Northwest Ohio where the varied seasons and sports provide the background for his three 'sports as therapy' young adult novels. A graduate of the University of Toledo with a degree in Journalism, English and Psychology, O'Leary's critically acclaimed realistic coming-of-age stories focus on teenagers facing a family crisis. He is the author of Penalty Kick and More Than A Game.
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Tuesday, October 27, 2015

Blog Tour: Blood Diamond

Paranormal Suspense / Urban Fantasy / Supernatural Thriller / Light Paranormal Romance
Date Published: June 25, 2015

The world is full of corpses, and Jackson knows them by name. When a group strives to destroy the Inquisition, his powers may be all standing between the supernaturals and extinction.
However, when he learns the truth behind the deaths of his wife and unborn daughter, Jackson may prove to be the greatest threat of all to the survival of mankind...


The world was full of corpses, and I, Dante Jackson Emmett Anderson, knew them by name. Unfortunately for me, my brother knew my secret.

When my brother asked for help, it usually involved unidentified bodies or paperwork. When he had showed up at my door, I hadn’t expected an invitation to join an Inquisition field operation, one dangerous enough to warrant the use of my brother’s armored truck. He had me dead to rights when he told me I’d be driving, and judging by the way he had smirked while spinning the keys around his finger, he had known it.

I doubted the red-painted, tempting seductress of a monstrosity could be eliminated by anything other than a missile or a tank; even if someone wanted to blast their way in, they’d need a ladder to reach the door. I wasn’t small, not at six foot three, and I needed the help of the step rail and roll bar to climb in. The rest of the team needed me to give them a hand.

I drew a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. I should have refused my twin and ignored the lure of driving his absurd, stupid truck. I should have told him I would do a stint at the Inquisition headquarters shuffling papers and naming dead people instead of pretending I was trained for field operations.

Drumming my hands against the leather wheel, probably the only normal thing in the truck, I waited. The manila envelope on the dashboard mocked me, reflecting in the windshield as I watched the darkening forest for any signs of the team’s return. Once I opened it, I’d know more about the operation and its Inquisitors than I wanted. I’d know the names and faces of the dead, and if my bad luck held, I’d get a glimpse of their final moments.

The dead were vindictive like that.

I leaned forward, resting my forehead on my hands. My brother had been in enough of a hurry to get me into his truck and on the road I hadn’t had time to change out of my suit. Combat boots, fatigues, and Kevlar protected the Inquisitors. I wore a silk dress shirt and an equally thin jacket a bullet would ignore before tearing a hole through me.

Clenching my teeth, I bumped my forehead against the wheel as I cursed my idiocy.
A smart man would’ve put the idling engine into gear and left. If I did that, I’d be the target of my very own Inquisition operation. I doubted even the Red Beast could withstand a pack of angry Fenerec armed with more firepower than the military. They had missiles, and I had supplied all six warheads to them. If they launched one at the truck, they’d blow it—and me—into scrap metal and unidentifiable bits.

RJ Blain suffers from a Moleskine journal obsession, a pen fixation, and a terrible tendency to pun without warning.
When she isn't playing pretend, she likes to think she's a cartographer and a sumi-e painter. In reality, she herds cats and a husband, and obeys the commands of Tsu Dhi, the great warrior fish.
In her spare time, she daydreams about being a spy. Should that fail, her contingency plan involves tying her best of enemies to spinning wheels and quoting James Bond villains until she is satisfied.

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Wednesday, October 21, 2015

Cover Reveal: Waking Up To Love

Contemporary Romance
Date Published: October 21, 2015

Kyle Pennington broke Lyssa’s heart when he let her go, rather than interfere with her budding career. An ocean away now, Lyssa has fallen under the spell of golden-tongued Rand Cunningham who’s in a hurry to marry her. But Kyle is miserable without her and is willing to risk everything to get her back. Will Lyssa wake up in time to ask who she really loves?


“So you didn’t bring along a mate of some kind—husband, wife, lover?”

“Just me and my broken heart.” Lyssa was secretly pleased that her heart didn’t clench with pain at the words. Just a mild ache.

“Ah, you’re on the rebound?” Rand sidled closer.

“I am that.”

“It’s dangerous territory, they say.”

“Reboundville?” She brought her fingernails to her mouth and chattered her teeth in mock terror.

“And I’m a pretty dangerous guy.” He reached a hand down to her. “You might be in trouble.” He pulled her up from the floor and looked hungrily at her lips.

With a knowing grin, she pushed him away. “Let’s go out for food. My tummy’s rumbling.”

“That’s the second time you’ve been close to kissing me and pushed me away. A guy could get a complex.”

“I?” She laughed. “Was close to kissing you? Admit it, Randall, you initiated both those close contacts, on the terrace before my interview and right here in my bedroom.” She tsked.

“Wrong. It’s Bertrand, not Randall. My father goes by Bert.” He moved closer and, before she could push him away, grabbed her wrists. “And I’m a very good kisser,” he told her, his voice husky.

She could have broken his hold, might have, if she hadn’t been so curious about what kissing him would be like. Rand’s devilish smile made her laugh. It had been two years since she’d kissed anyone on the lips.

He let go of one wrist and pulled her against him. When she stroked the back of his neck with her free hand, he teased her lips with his, then kissed her—lightly, insistently—and nipped her lower lip. She pressed closer, enjoying the feel of his toned, sexy body against hers. His kisses grew firmer, more arousing. When he released her, she swayed and stepped back with one foot to steady herself.

“Very good kisser.” She touched her hot cheeks with trembling fingers.

“I think you needed a good kissing, didn’t you?” He wore a self-satisfied smile.

“I guess I did.” Damn, I wish it had been Kyle.

About the Author

Born in the upstate-New York village known as the Birthplace of Women’s Rights, Katie O’Boyle loves the Finger Lakes in every season. She enjoys lunch with friends at quaint inns, and she cherishes the lakeside porch as a place for intimate sharing, laughter, and inspiration. To the outside world, she’s a tech-savvy college professor. In her soul, she’s a passionate author of warm-hearted romance.

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Monday, October 19, 2015

Release Blitz: Keeping Score

Contemporary Romance
Date Published: October 19, 2015

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Cleveland Clash center Jade Wren takes her mother and grandmother’s Korean family values to heart, and living up to their expectations is a big part of that plan. But there’s another side of Jade that longs for something more than teaching elementary school and marrying a nice Korean guy. That’s the side that decides to kiss a sexy American stranger, simply to prove that she can stray from the straight and narrow every once in a while without anything bad happening. Except, the guy isn’t exactly a stranger. He’s sports radio shock jock Rome Rizzelli, and as far as the Cleveland Clash is concerned, he’s Public Enemy No. 1.

Rome isn’t the kind of guy to argue when a beautiful woman kisses him in a bar during a break at a remote broadcast, but the same beautiful woman ends up singled out by his new, feminist producer and invited on air to talk about women’s tackle football. It’s a battle of the sexes—a battle he needs to win to save his job and continue to support his disabled mother and younger sister. But Jade is no pushover, and Rome can’t decide whether that’s a turn-on or reason to fight back even harder.

When Jade’s cameo appearance on the Riled up with Rome show turns into a regular gig, the gloves—among other things—come off, leaving Jade and Rome bare. But can two strong personalities, who have found security in keeping up appearances, let down their guards long enough to fall in love?


Jade left the restroom on determined strides, the blood whooshing in her ears. And even though the stairs to the bar were narrow and someone was heading down, she charged up anyway. You’re just going to have to move, buddy.

Glancing up—way up the steep incline—she saw the guy, all blue jeans and James Dean swagger, slow his pace. She slowed hers too as they met in the middle with two free steps in between.

There was a hint of a smile on his face. A little sexy. A little cocky.

This was exactly the kind of man who hung out in bars, exactly the kind of man she shouldn’t trust. Broad shoulders, rugged face, and a look in his eyes that said, “Hold on, baby. You’re going to enjoy the ride.”

Trusting a guy like that was the last thing on her mind.

She smiled, too, until her mother’s words of warning echoed in her head. Don’t trust your judgment.

But they were wrong. She could trust her judgment. She’d been on her own for six months now, and nothing terrible had happened. Just because she strayed from the straight and narrow every once in a while didn’t mean she was doomed. And to prove it ...

She raised up on her toes, closed the distance between them, and laid one on him. The kiss was sharp and short, like a bold period at the end of a hard-hitting sentence. But before she could pull away, she took a breath, filling her nose with the soft scents of denim, soap, and beer. Her mouth watered. Her brain told her to be still. Just a little bit longer.

When, bam! He came alive, brushing his lips back and forth across hers in a simple but sensual motion. He skimmed his hand up her hip, raising chill bumps on her skin. And then, he sucked her upper lip between his before he pulled back and whispered, “Hello, there” in a low, dreamy voice that somehow seemed familiar.

“Hi,” she whispered back, only to be drowned out by the group of women from the restroom.

They barreled up the stairs behind her amid laughter and a ruckus that made her think about her friends, who were waiting upstairs. Holy crap! Talk about getting sidetracked.

The sexy stranger didn’t say another word. He just stepped aside to let her pass, but not before he unleashed a killer smile that seemed to be saying, “Come find me later.”

But she wouldn’t. It was hard to get into any real and lasting emotional trouble when you didn’t take your interactions with the opposite sex seriously. That’s why she didn’t do relationships. Too risky. Her analytical mind preferred calculated risks. Like kissing some guy you would probably never see again—no numbers exchanged, no names.

As the women pushed at her back, she stepped up and up again, and for a split second, Jade and the mystery man finally stood on the same step. He was short! What a shame! A little bit of his sexy shine wore off, which was probably a good thing. All the more reason not to take it beyond one random kiss.

Caught up in the wave of women, Jade climbed the rest of the stairs, still feeling the rush of kissing a perfect stranger in the stairwell. Her mother and grandmother would call that bad judgment. Definitely.

But at the top of the steps, she looked up at the suspended ceiling and smiled. The sky hadn’t fallen. She’d kissed a sexy—albeit short—stranger, and absolutely, positively nothing bad had come of it.

Take that, bad judgment.

“Where the hell have you been?” Jillian ran toward her. “And why aren’t you answering your texts? You’re never going to believe who is here tonight!”


“Rome Freaking Rizzelli! And rumor has it, he’s hot! I don’t know, though. We haven’t seen him yet. He’s on a break.”

Jade’s steps faltered. A bathroom break? She swallowed hard. No. It couldn’t be. But there had been something familiar about that voice.

“Come on!” Jillian pulled on her arm. “You’re not going to want to miss this.”

Then why did she feel like she absolutely, positively did?

About the Author

Elley Arden is a born and bred Pennsylvanian who has lived as far west as Utah and as far north as Wisconsin. She drinks wine like it’s water (a slight exaggeration), prefers a night at the ballpark to a night on the town, and believes almond English toffee is the key to happiness. Elley writes books with charming characters, emotional stories, and sexy romance. For a complete list of Elley’s books and social media links, visit

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Friday, October 16, 2015

PROMO Blitz: Into the Mist

Paranormal Romance
Date Published: July 2015

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Into the Mist (Moonseed Book 3) brings to a conclusion the story begun in Bridge to the Past (Book 1) and further developed in Borrowed Promises (Book 2). Two young women, each desperate for a different life, suddenly awaken in each other’s bodies. Gentle Victoria has become Katherine Kamarov, a brash young widow living in rural California circa 1890 and accused of murdering her husband. Meanwhile, the sensuous Katherine has come forward in time to assume Victoria’s identity as a beautiful and wealthy heiress in modern-day San Francisco. Told in parallel narratives, the story follows the two women as they grapple with their unexpected lives and discover new and stronger selves emerging. Assuming they have only one year before they are snatched back to their own times, each woman tries to resist investing her heart in her borrowed life but ends up falling hopelessly in love. As the story accelerates toward the magical night of the new spring moon, Victoria and Katherine both question whether they must remain victims of fate or can find some way to keep the lives they have come to cherish.


Ryan Ashton pulled the Jaguar into his reserved parking space and shut off the engine. In the sudden silence he slumped forward and laid his head on the steering wheel. Just for a moment he allowed his mind to drift in an unfocused haze, temporarily cushioning him from the unpleasant task awaiting him.

He faced it every night—that rush of heat and ice in his veins as he rode the elevator to his apartment and unlocked the door, anticipating his first glimpse of her. He longed to see her graceful body sway toward him with that light in her eyes that set his heart hammering. Because he loved her. But he always met her gaze with hard eyes and kept his hands fisted at his sides so he couldn’t pull her into his arms and savor the sweetness of coming home to her. Because he hated her.

Day after day, the memory of her betrayal made him taste the bitterness of his shame. His only defense was to steel his heart against her. He couldn’t help loving her, but she would never make a fool of him again.

Silence met him as he stepped into their foyer, but Ryan knew his wife was home. Intriguing aromas wafted from the kitchen, and the table was set for two. He’d called to let her know he’d be home for dinner, mostly because he couldn’t think of a good enough reason to stay away. He wanted to see her even though he knew he would suffer.

It drove him crazy, this desire to feed his love for her while fanning the flames of his resentment. He watched her when she wasn’t looking, inhaled her scent like oxygen to keep himself alive, but he wouldn’t let himself touch her. He knew if he crossed that line, he’d be helpless to resist her. So he nursed his resentment to keep that boundary firm.

He located Vicki in their bedroom. She lay curled on the bed, asleep in the soft light of the bedside lamp. Ryan stood over her and allowed himself to feel the slow ache of loving her. She looked young and soft, like an angel child, her hand fisted close to her mouth, her blond hair tousled against the pillow.

She stirred and opened her eyes, blinking in the light. Seeing him beside the bed, she looked up quickly into his face before he could tuck away his tenderness. A corresponding warmth flickered in her eyes. Then wariness dropped a veil, and she looked away.

“I must have fallen asleep.” She yawned and stretched herself in a way that was unintentionally sensual. “I just lay down for a minute. I think the pregnancy is making me tired.”

“How did it go at the doctor’s?” Ryan heard husky tenderness in his voice and winced. Careful, Ashton. He turned quickly away and shrugged off his jacket.

“Healthy baby, healthy mama.” The guard was back in her voice. Good.

“When’s dinner ready?” He crossed the room to get away from her, away from the soft glow of lamplight on her hair and the pronounced curve of her breasts under the silk robe she was wearing. A stunning wave of heat and need slammed through him and left his ears ringing.

“It should be ready now.” She slid off the bed and padded into the bathroom.

Ryan blew out a tremulous sigh and flexed his hands. Don’t fall for it, Ashton, he reminded himself. She’s not what she seems.

He’d be a fool to go down that same road twice.

 About the Author

Judith Ingram lives with her husband in the San Francisco East Bay and makes frequent visits to lovely Sonoma County, where most of her fiction characters reside. She in addition to time-travel fiction, she writes inspirational nonfiction. Into the Mist is the third and final book in her award-winning Moonseed trilogy.

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Thursday, October 15, 2015

PROMO Blitz: Heavy Hour

Crime Thriller / Mystery / Suspense
Date Published: September 16, 2015

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From the author of the suspense thriller, VARIED TRAITS, comes the sequel, HEAVY HOUR!

Four teenagers form a bond during a hot Atlanta summer. Ten years later, a tragic event takes place during a swanky Midtown wedding reception. When the police come up empty in the search for a vicious killer, Salem Reid is summoned to investigate by a stripper whom he has recently saved from a murderous group of thugs. Reid can’t say no to a friend in need, so he puts his business on hold while he plunges into the case.

As Reid looks into the victim’s past, the motivation for the brutal murder and the identity of the predator are slowly revealed. But the killer remains elusive. As the story unfolds, a cast of characters emerges—from a beautiful young widow to a bevy of streetwalkers, from young professionals to a mentally challenged boy—all who assist Salem Reid in his search for the killer.

HEAVY HOUR leads us on a journey into an urban underworld of prostitution, pornography, and sexual deviance that author Patrick Brown describes in graphic detail. Following up from the prequel, VARIED TRAITS, we are rocketed into a world where we might be afraid to venture outside…or stay in, as the case may be.


Chapter One


THE YOUNGER BOY MET THE OLDER BOY in the woods along a gravel road behind Murphy Candler Pool. The former was fourteen, and a year younger than the older boy. The latter had a 1.5L bottle of unopened Cella Lambrusco wine that he had stolen.

The younger boy didn’t concern himself with where the wine had come from; he was just pleased that the older boy had brought it. They had done this before. It was a Tuesday afternoon in late July. The pair would share about half of the wine, and then they would go to the pool, both a little drunk. They had been friends since they were eight and nine years old, which was a long time for teenagers. The younger boy had a dark complexion year-round, and even more so in the middle of the summer. He had black, wavy hair, straight white teeth, dark brown eyes, and a medium athletic build. He was handsome. The older boy was pale. He was tall and lanky with thin, sandy hair, and blue eyes. He had a wiry build and was surprisingly strong. He was neither attractive nor unattractive. He was nondescript. They were both very good on the diving board at the pool; they could both perform the gainer flip and they could also do a double front flip. It didn’t matter if they were drunk, stoned, or sober. They could do it well any old way. They were excellent on their skateboards too, and used them frequently to wheel around the northeast Atlanta neighborhood where they lived. Among other skater tricks, they both were proficient with the 360 Ollie. They would fly off a ledge or a concrete stairway and twist all the way around, landing smoothly and evenly every time. It didn’t matter if they were drunk, stoned, or sober. They could do it well any old way.

The older boy twisted the top off the bottle and took a long pull.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and he passed the
bottle to the younger boy. He chugged a healthy portion, and wiped
his mouth on his bare upper arm. They rarely wore shirts outside
of school from May to September. It was the best time of year.

“Look, dude, I hear Jimmy’s grandpa keeps cash in a file cabinet in his bedroom. I bet we can get our hands on it,” the older boy said, as he took the bottle back from his friend.

“How much money?” asked the younger boy.

“Don’t know. I say we find out,” the older boy said, and then he took another big pull from the jug of wine.

“Who told you this?” asked the younger boy.

“Jimmy. He’s a dipshit,” the older boy said, and passed the wine to his pal.

The younger boy drank some more wine, shivered slightly, and then took another gulp. “So is Jimmy just gonna let us in the house?” he asked.

“Nah. The little pansy has piano lessons on Wednesdays at two o’clock. His grandpa, Morrie, takes him. His mom will be at work.

I left a window unlocked in the back of his house. We can climb in and check it out. It won’t take long,” he said.

“I could use some cash. I’d hate to have to mow a lawn or something,” the younger boy said, and they both laughed.

The older boy said, “Okay. Let’s meet here about one o’clock tomorrow and plan it out. Johnny Krimmer has a pound of weed he just bought. We can get some primo pot and party the rest of the week.

I bet we can sell some of it too, and maybe break even.”

Johnny Krimmer was an eighteen-year-old high school dropout who dealt drugs all over Chamblee, Sandy Springs, and Dunwoody.

“Johnny freaks me out a bit. Dude has a twitchy eye and a droopy mouth. He sucks his teeth all the time too,” the younger boy said.

“He’s pretty creepy, bro, but he’s got the goods. We can handle him together,” said the older boy.

Johnny Krimmer was rumored to be short tempered and mean spirited. He was sometimes quick to use his fists when things didn’t exactly go his way.

“That’s for sure,” said the younger boy, the alcohol giving him courage.

“Okay then. Let’s drink some more wine and head to the pool,” the older boy said. So that’s what they did.

The two friends hid the bottle for later in a ditch by the lake. They threw some leaves and branches over it. It would be easy to locate later that evening when they would be ready to drink some more. They swam and dove off the diving board for the remainder of the afternoon.

During the last adult swim, they struck up a conversation with a couple of fifteen-year-old girls from school. They invited them to join them later in the woods for some wine. The girls seemed interested, but were a little nervous about being caught or getting into trouble. The boys were persuasive, though, and the girls acquiesced. They were both pretty girls. One was tall and leggy, with well-developed hips, but smaller breasts than her friend. The other girl was tanned, medium height, and busty. The two girls, having grown up in the neighborhood together, had been friends since they were toddlers. They did everything together.

When the pool closed for the day, the four teenagers strolled into the woods as dusk was approaching. The tall Georgia Pines filtered the setting sun that was glimmering off the lake as the kids approached the ditch where the wine was hidden. The younger boy pulled the branches and leaves from the ditch, and the older boy reached down and plucked the bottle from its hiding place. There was a little over half a bottle remaining. The older boy unscrewed the cap and handed the bottle to the tall, leggy girl. She took a swig and scrunched up her face, as the boys laughed good-naturedly. She passed the bottle to her shorter friend, and she took an even bigger pull. The boys both took a couple of big drinks, and then they passed the bottle around until it was empty. They had a good buzz going, and the girls were a little past just buzzed.

The younger boy picked up a flat rock, and skimmed it over the lake’s surface. It skipped six times. The shorter, tanned girl was impressed.

“That’s pretty good,” she said.

“Here, let me show you how it’s done,” he replied, and took her by the hand and led her closer to the lake. He moved another thirty yards along the shore, deftly isolating the girl and himself from the other two.

He picked up another flat rock and threw it side-armed into the lake. It was a righteous toss. It skimmed eleven times, and reached past the middle of the lake before it faded into the water’s surface.

“Here, you give it a try,” he said to the giggling girl with the large breasts.

She giggled some more and tossed it into the lake with a three-quarter-arm angle. When she threw the stone, she stepped with her right leg as she threw with her right arm. The rock sank immediately.

“You throw like a girl,” the younger boy said.

She gave him a stern look, but then started giggling again. “I am a girl,” she slurred, and fell into him. Her breasts pushed into his chest, and he quickly pulled her close to keep her from falling.

He felt himself stir. “Yes, you are a girl—a very pretty one,” he said, as he moved in for a kiss.

She let him, but soon giggled again. He pulled her back and kissed her harder, this time exploring her mouth with his tongue. She reciprocated. She tasted like wine and the Fritos he had seen her eating at the pool. He pulled her down to the ground and they continued kissing. His erection was straining against his shorts. He moved to touch her boobs, and she allowed him to do so. He played with her breasts through her bathing suit top, and he thought she liked it. He reached behind her quickly and pulled her bathing suit string, and her top fell to her lap.

The younger boy gasped. He had seen breasts before, and even touched a girl’s boobs in the seventh grade, but nothing like these.

She reached up and covered herself with her hands, but she resisted only a little when he gently pushed them away. He bent to kiss one. Her nipple was hard in his mouth. He sucked on it, and she moaned. He tried the other one and found it equally fascinating.

He alternated between kissing her breasts and her lips, and he thought she liked it. Then he got bold. He moved his hand inside her shorts and touched the top of her pubic hair before she pushed his hand away.

“No,” she said.

The moment was gone. She re-tied her top, and sat facing the lake.

He placed his arm around her and she let him. He had almost gotten to third base with her, and his hard-on was raging. He took a few deep breaths, and contented himself with just sitting there with her.

He was pleased when she placed her head on his shoulder. He would try again on another day.

The pair turned when they heard the crunching of gravel and leaves as the older boy and tall girl approached. The tall girl had a slightly strained look on her face, and the younger boy couldn’t be sure if it was because of the wine or something the older boy had done. The newcomers sat next to their friends and said nothing. The older boy was smirking.

After a few moments the taller girl said, “We should be going home now. I don’t want to get into trouble.”

Her friend said, “Okay.” She turned to the younger boy, and said, “I had fun skipping stones with you.” She blushed, but now it was too dark to notice.

The group walked up the hill to the pool, where they headed north on Candler Lake West. The two boys peeled off on Navajo Trail and the two girls continued down the road towards their homes on Ashwoody Court. Darkness had arrived completely, closing the curtain on the day with finality.

About the Author

Patrick Brown is the author of Varied Traits. He resides in Northeast Atlanta with his wife and two teenage children. Heavy Hour is the second book in the Salem Reid series. He is currently writing his third novel, Spare Change.

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