tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35783716661347022142024-03-28T16:10:15.819+05:30Bookish IndulgencesHome to Books, Authors and Fandoms!Debdatta Dasgupta http://www.blogger.com/profile/12575979550597861075noreply@blogger.comBlogger2980125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3578371666134702214.post-72587278649499403392024-03-28T00:00:00.012+05:302024-03-28T00:00:00.291+05:30Read an Excerpt from The Machine Murders by CJ Abazis<p> </p><div style="text-align: center;">
<h2><a href="https://www.ddsreviews.in/2024/03/the-machine-murders-by-cj-abazis.html" target="_blank" title="The Machine Murders by CJ Abazis"><img alt="The Machine Murders by CJ Abazis Banner" class="aligncenter size-full" height="338" src="https://partnersincrimetours.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/02/the-machine-murders-by-cj-abazis-banner-.png" width="600" /></a></h2>
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<h2><i>The Machine Murders</i></h2>
<h3>by CJ Abazis</h3>
<h4>March 25-April 5, 2024 Virtual Book Tour</h4>
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<h2>Synopsis:</h2>
<div style="float: left; margin-right: 15px; width: 225px;"><img alt="The Machine Murders by CJ Abazis" border="0" height="306" src="https://partnersincrimetours.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/01/the-machine-murders-by-cj-abazis-cover-1200.png" style="float: left; margin-bottom: 5px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 15px; margin-top: 5px; margin: 5px 15px 5px 0px;" width="200" /></div>
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<h4>Desert Balloons</h4>
<p><strong>A Dubai balloon festival is attacked by the most lethal social engineering exploit the world has ever seen. Pilots die. Local politics crumble. Is AI to blame?</strong></p>
<p>A prime moment to be working for Interpol.</p>
<p>Manos Manu, Interpol data scientist, arrives in the United Arab Emirates to solve a series of murders that have shaken the Middle East.</p>
<p>Interpol’s Singapore back office has proven world-class, with a machine learning team of the best engineers from around the globe - including Manos’ girlfriend Mei. Tested under pressure in the field, his custom system is nothing short of brilliant.</p>
<p>But this time, his arch-nemesis is not simply a killer. Not even a web of determined developers, scattered across the world.</p>
<p>His enemy is his very own nature.</p>
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<blockquote class="details" style="margin: 20px; padding: 20px;">
<h3>Book Details:</h3>
<p><b>Genre:</b> Suspense <br />
<b>Published by:</b> Publisto <br />
<b>Publication Date:</b> January 2024<br />
<b>Number of Pages:</b> 284 <br />
<b>ISBN:</b> 979-8871582299<br />
<b>Series:</b> The Machine Murders, 2 (stand alone novels)<br />
<b>Book Links:</b> <a href="https://pictbooks.tours/dtlp0" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Amazon</a> | <a href="https://pictbooks.tours/0ytHz" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Goodreads</a></p>
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<h3>Read an excerpt:</h3>
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<h4>1.</h4>
<p>Manos Manu was running his fingertip along the spines of books, as if automatically scanning their contents. He knew his data would be crystal-clear seen below the Singapore sun which grew hotter every day, but for the moment it was as though he could hear it, the data echoing like the descending scales of a piano, every note feeding a neural network. From one shelf to the next, his query never wavered: <em>What is the soul?</em></p>
<p>“Bye, Baby! Planning on wasting much time there?” Blowing a kiss over her lovely shoulder, Mei was gone.</p>
<p>Leaving what? Artificial intelligence has consciousness, even ingenuity. So what sets machines apart from humans besides the soul?</p>
<p>He turned back to the books. There weren’t that many: Barber’s Bayesian Reasoning, works of Bishop and Hinton, Sutton’s <em>Reinforcement Learning: An Introduction</em>, and a few titles about neural nets. There was also an untouched Michael Crichton mystery, though not <em>Jurassic Park</em>. But such was Mei. <em>If you want history</em>, she’d say, <em>read papers. If you want to learn, read code. If you need to know what people are saying about a piece of code, jump on X.</em> Books were about as useful to AI as military theory was on the battlefield. What you need in the trenches is ammunition. In AI, just code. Just GitHub, the goings-on of which were too big for any conceivable library.</p>
<p>He also couldn’t stop thinking of Lena Sideris. In the two months since his return from Greece he kept remembering her body, cut open on a marble table like a broken porcelain doll being sent back to the factory. Her eyes glassy orbs. Did they hold consciousness? Emotion? They didn’t. <em>A soul?</em> He didn’t trace the spines of books now, but grabbed one of Barber’s works, opened to a random page and ripped it out. He returned it to the shelf, moving on to Sutton and all the others, tearing out a page from each one till he had about fifty. Incomplete, these books would now confront anyone reading them with inconsistency. Making sure the books were replaced perfectly so that Mei would never notice, he shredded the pages in his hands till they looked like ticker-tape confetti and went back out onto the balcony.</p>
<p>Different weather awaited him. Broad heavy clouds skittered across the sun’s rays, leaving traces as if from speeding aircraft. He threw some of the shreds over the glass railing, where the wind swept them past the ceiling, high overhead. He hurled the rest into the air and stared, mesmerized by their flight.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Was this a gesture Artificial General Intelligence would choose to make?</p>
<p>It wasn’t. An AGI would have carefully selected which pages to discard. He’d barely thought to read them.</p>
<p>This was futile, illogical, diabolical. He’d destroyed books from his beloved’s library.</p>
<p>And he felt wonderful.</p>
<p><em>Was this having a soul?</em> He’d committed a decidedly wicked act. <em>This is what separates us from machines. Evil.</em></p>
<p>Then he remembered what he’d been trying to forget: <em>And murder.</em> </p>
<p></p>
<h4>2.</h4>
<p> </p>
<p>It was Sunday morning and the first time she’d left him alone at her place. Before long, he received a message to meet up for brunch at Marina Bay. Mei would also swing by the office for the latest build of Mei-Nu, which was the name of their custom-made dating platform. They’d sifted through the crawled data correlating user profiles from sites like Tinder, Bubble, Coffee Meets Bagel, and Lovoo, elaborating a few of their own layers beyond basic personality tests. But both knew Myers-Briggs would only get them so far.</p>
<p>They needed more and better data: time to start seeing other people.</p>
<p>He arrived at Jypsy, late as usual. Mei was already seated with a couple at a table overlooking the Marina.</p>
<p>“And here’s Manos!” Mei called, with a cheerful smile.</p>
<p>“Sorry. Traffic,” he mumbled, his eyes fixed on his new date.</p>
<p>Her name was Daria, a pretty twenty-seven year old maritime attorney. She was of average build with big Anime eyes. Her psychometrics had indicated she was the enfp type, matching well with Manos’ intj. Creative, funny, a communicator. A handful, like him. He glanced over at Mei’s match, who was clearly regretting he’d come at all.</p>
<p>Mei launched their routine: “Thanks so much for meeting like this. I just wouldn’t feel comfortable by myself. Manos is a faithful friend.”</p>
<p>“Of course!” gushed Daria. “I’m chicken too - on dates, I mean . . .”</p>
<p><em>Bullshit. She’s fearless.</em></p>
<p>“It’s a bit strange,” said the young man. “A blind double date. It’s a good idea, but . . .”</p>
<p>His name was Marc, a banker from France. Type infp: diplomatic, introverted, yet apparently open-minded. Manos sensed he was very attracted to Mei and felt a pang of jealousy. <em>Who wouldn’t be crazy about her?</em> He would have to get used to it. Mei read his thoughts with a breezy smile before focusing on her date. They had work to do. For the next half hour, Manos and Mei worked through their mental checklist item by item to examine the people caught for them by the neural network they’d cast. This tête-à-tête had parameters culled from a somewhat small set of their respective right-swipes. Hidden biases lurked. For all. For example, if, as he claimed, Manos preferred the Chinese type to the Mediterranean - say, the actress Sun Li versus a Lena Sideris - then what the hell was Daria doing here, with her cascading black curls, fresh as lemon groves on the Amalfi coast?</p>
<p><em>With well-preprocessed data, even half an algorithm nails you!</em></p>
<p>Half an hour of small talk revealed where they were from, where they worked, their favorite movies, where they would love to travel, <em>Like, if you could just leave tomorrow . . . .</em></p>
<p>It also revealed to Manos they’d made a mistake. Sex was a mistake. Which made Daria a mistake.</p>
<p>They had pulled profiles without timestamp-based clustering. This allowed data from hastily created profiles, like those made by married travelers looking for a quick hookup, which they hadn’t had time to isolate from the training datasets. Classic case of overfitting[1]. The algorithms worked, but with so much noisy data, spontaneity was redefined as fear. <em>Fear’s not attractive.</em> Fear degenerated into aggression and haste. <em>Since we’re here, let’s do it right on the seafood bar, by the open oysters . . .</em></p>
<p>Another possible issue was voiced by Marc, who was saying:</p>
<p>“I’m not convinced double blind dates work.”</p>
<p>But Mei knew the problem was Manos himself. <em>Always botching things!</em> Attempting to "eliminate system biases” he’d added a stupid line of code actually designed to test the weights of their own Asian-American romance: sorted_data = sorted(data, key=lambda x: x['Asian']). Sweet of him, really.</p>
<p>Daria and Marc, each suspicious of these two nutjobs giving each other flirtatious looks and running the conversation along some shared secret formula, suddenly got up to use the restrooms. </p>
<p>Mei opened her laptop, steam practically coming out of her ears.</p>
<p>“I saw it this morning! I can’t believe you!”</p>
<p>“I don’t think it’s the command,” he murmured.</p>
<p>“The data –”</p>
<p>“Mei, it’s psychology, it’ not smooth world[2]. Anyway,” he smiled, cooling the tension. “I think Marc likes you.”</p>
<p>“You know he’s not my type.”</p>
<p>“Oh, but trust your <em>data</em>.”</p>
<p>“Manos Manu, are you trying to get rid of me?”</p>
<p>“No,” he said. “You’re my ground truth.”</p>
<p><em>Ground truth.</em> A tech term they’d appropriated, meaning she mattered more to Manos than anything. Mei flushed with a thrill as he pulled her close, kissing her. They were swept up in vertigo, their kisses wet in all the right places. The world disappeared, as if their neurons were drunk and brimming over. </p>
<p>Until Daria reappeared. With Marc.</p>
<p>Neither took their seats. Instead they stood staring.</p>
<p>“I guess blind dates work out after all,” Marc teased.</p>
<p>Daria gave a crooked smile, a few locks of her glossy hair spiraling out wildly. Something had apparently happened in the bathroom. </p>
<p>“Noise!” cried Manos, triumphant.</p>
<p>Mei’s smile was as funny as Daria’s as she tumbled back into Manos’ arms. In the confusion, Daria’s much-needed enfp leadership came to the rescue.</p>
<p>“Ok, this started off wrong, but let’s make it right,” she said. “Marc and I want to hit a beach club in Sentosa.”</p>
<p>They all looked at each other, and Daria added, “You guys are super-nerds, but . . . do you want to come?”</p>
<p></p>
<p> </p>
<p></p>
<p>________________________________________</p>
<p>[1] Machine learning term. Manos means the models they used were overly complex, resulting in incorporating irrelevant data in order to achieve the desired outcome ("noise"), such as the profiles of married individuals, for example.</p>
<p>[2] “Law of the smooth world” in machine learning refers to real-world data,e.g.audio/speech/images/video</p>
<p></p>
<p>
</p><p>***</p>
<p>Excerpt from <i>The Machine Murders</i> by CJ Abazis. Copyright 2024 by CJ Abazis. Reproduced with permission from CJ Abazis. All rights reserved.</p>
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<h2>Author Bio:</h2>
<div style="float: right; margin-left: 15px; width: 230px;"><img align="left" alt="CJ Abazis" border="0" height="250" src="https://partnersincrimetours.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/01/the-machine-murders-by-cj-abazis-author.png" style="float: right; margin-bottom: 5px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 15px; margin-top: 5px; margin: 5px 15px 5px 0px;" width="200" /></div>
<p>CJ Abazis manages a software company in Athens, Greece.</p>
<h3>Catch Up With CJ Abazis:<br />
<a href="https://pictbooks.tours/uuvXb" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">www.TheMachineMurders.com</a><br />
<a href="https://pictbooks.tours/rb4kL" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Goodreads</a><br />
<a href="https://pictbooks.tours/oqR7R" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">BookBub - @abazis</a><br />
<a href="https://pictbooks.tours/koimq" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Instagram - @themachinemurders</a><br />
<a href="https://pictbooks.tours/ilcaA" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Twitter/X - @CJAbazis</a><br />
<a href="https://pictbooks.tours/ksncY" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Facebook - @manosmanuseries</a></h3>
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Debdatta Dasgupta http://www.blogger.com/profile/12575979550597861075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3578371666134702214.post-48670851287492682852024-03-25T00:00:00.006+05:302024-03-25T00:00:00.125+05:30Read an Excerpt from Listen, Do You Want to Know a Secret by Teresa Trent<div style="text-align: center;">
<h2><a href="https://www.ddsreviews.in/2024/03/Listen-Do-You-Want-To-Know-Secret.html" target="_blank" title="Listen, Do You Want to Know a Secret by Teresa Trent"><img alt="Listen, Do You Want to Know a Secret by Teresa Trent Banner" class="aligncenter size-full" height="338" src="https://partnersincrimetours.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/01/listen-do-you-want-to-know-a-secret-by-teresa-trent-banner-.png" width="600" /></a></h2>
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<h2><i>Listen, Do You Want to Know a Secret</i></h2>
<h3>by Teresa Trent</h3>
<h4>March 18 - 29, 2024 Virtual Book Tour</h4>
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<h2>Synopsis:</h2>
<div style="float: left; margin-right: 15px; width: 225px;"><img alt="Listen, Do You Want to Know a Secret by Teresa Trent" border="0" height="300" src="https://partnersincrimetours.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/01/listen-do-you-want-to-know-a-secret-by-teresa-trent-cover.jpg" style="float: left; margin-bottom: 5px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 15px; margin-top: 5px; margin: 5px 15px 5px 0px;" width="200" /></div>
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<h4>A Swinging Sixties Mystery</h4>
<h3> </h3>
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<p>Everyone has a secret, and in 1964, Dot Morgan’s new job at KDUD Radio is filled with them. Her boss, Holden Ramsey, is a terrible flirt, but he’s also engaged to a beautiful socialite. When Dot finds out he’s hiding involvements with other women, these secrets lead to a grisly murder. Can Dot figure out who is murdering the women in Holden’s life before she finds herself next on the hit parade?</p>
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<blockquote class="details" style="margin: 20px; padding: 20px;">
<h3>Book Details:</h3>
<p><b>Genre:</b> Historical Fiction, Historical Mystery<br />
<b>Published by:</b> Level Best Books<br />
<b>Publication Date:</b> January 2, 2024<br />
<b>Number of Pages:</b> 230 <br />
<b>Series:</b> A Swinging Sixties Mystery, Book 3<br />
<b>Book Links:</b> <a href="https://pictbooks.tours/be70c" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Amazon</a> | <a href="https://pictbooks.tours/ganCu" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Goodreads</a> </p>
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<h3>Read an excerpt:</h3>
<div class="excerpt" style="border-color: 800000; border-style: groove; border-width: 3px; height: 250px; overflow: auto;">
<p><em>I've known a secret for a week or two.<br />Nobody knows,<br />Just we two<br /></em>~The Beatles</p>
<h6>February 9, 1964</h6>
<p>"Hurry, Ellie. It's about to start," Al called out.</p>
<p>"I'm just putting the popcorn in the bowl, Al. Keep your shirt on," Ellie yelled back. The jaunty theme song to "My Favorite Martian" played in the background as it capped off the adventures of everyone's favorite Uncle Martin.</p>
<p>"You're not even married yet," Ben said, "and you already sound like an old married couple."</p>
<p>"Yeah, well," Al said as Ellie squeezed in next to him, reaching for a handful of popcorn. "I don't have to report to prison until June." He gave us a smile, cheeks bulging with popcorn. "Isn't that right, sweetie?" He looked like a mischievous squirrel.</p>
<p>Ellie gave him a sour grin and then playfully hit his shoulder. "You're the luckiest man in the world." She lowered her nose slightly, giving Al a piercing, no-nonsense gaze. "Go on and admit it."</p>
<p>"Yes, dear," Al responded automatically. I loved the way they bantered back and forth. You could tell they loved each other dearly.</p>
<p>Ben reached out and took my hand on the crowded couch, and I lay my head on his shoulder. What we had was different, but that was because we hadn't been dating as long as Al and Ellie had. I tried to keep that in mind. Meanwhile, Ed Sullivan appeared in front of the gray-toned curtains. When they panned the audience, it was filled with women. Young women, and they all looked like they were about to witness the second coming. There were so many expectant looks to the stage. One girl had her fists clenched and held to her chin. I had seen the Ed Sullivan show for years, but never had I witnessed such awe-filled excitement.</p>
<p>"Just look at them all." Ellie squinted at the television. "Do you see any men?"</p>
<p>Instead of answering her question, Al added, "Do you see anyone over thirty?"</p>
<p>Ed Sullivan looked somewhere between excited and terrified. "Ladies and gentlemen, the Beatles," Ed Sullivan yelled, and the screams rose to a feverish pitch.</p>
<p>I had never witnessed mass hysteria, but was sure I was seeing it on Ellie's new Phillips television set. "This is unbelievable. Those girls are going insane." The camera went from the audience to John, Paul, and George. Ringo was set up on a raised platform with his drums. They knocked out "I Want to Hold Your Hand," and with each measure the crowd screamed even more.</p>
<p>"I can barely hear the song for the caterwauling going on in the background," Al said.</p>
<p>"I wonder if they can hear each other." Ellie popped a handful of popcorn into her mouth.</p>
<p>"I told you the Beatles were big news." Ben was the room's professional reporter.</p>
<p>I couldn't get over how excited the fans were. I considered myself a bit of an expert in popular music since I landed my job at KDUD, The Smile on Your Dial. I wasn't spinning records, but I was answering the request line. We were getting more and more requests for the Beatles. Unfortunately, my boss chose Perry Como over John Lennon and Montavoni over Paul McCartney. Sometimes it felt like I was spending my days in a department store, listening to never-ending soulless melodies. Sales were down, and our listenership was too. If my boss would only switch to the popular music of the day, we'd be playing in everyone's kitchen.</p>
<p>It was more than these girls' crazy behavior in the presence of the Beatles. They bought the records. This was a big industry, and these four kids from England were taking America by storm. The rival station across town, KOOL, was playing them nonstop, and that's who people were listening to on their radios. Ellie told me they even made jokes about our station. We were oldies for the oldies. As Charlie Brown would say, "Good grief".</p>
<p>I needed to count my blessings. I had a job I enjoyed. I just hated to see how they were missing an opportunity with their choice of music.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Excerpt from <i>Listen, Do You Want to Know a Secret</i> by Teresa Trent. Copyright 2024 by Teresa Trent. Reproduced with permission from Teresa Trent. All rights reserved.</p>
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<h2>Author Bio:</h2>
<div style="float: right; margin-left: 15px; width: 230px;"><img align="left" alt="Teresa Trent" border="0" height="256" src="https://partnersincrimetours.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/03/TTrent_AuthorPhoto_3-scaled.jpg" style="float: right; margin-bottom: 5px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 15px; margin-top: 5px; margin: 5px 15px 5px 0px;" width="204" /></div>
<p>Teresa Trent is the author of the Swinging Sixties Mystery Series published by Level Best Books featuring <em>The Twist and Shout Murder</em> (2022), <em>If I Had a Hammer</em> (2023), and <em>Listen, Do You Want to Know a Secret</em> (2024). She has been writing and publishing mysteries since 2011 starting with the Pecan Bayou Mystery Series and followed by the Piney Woods Mystery Series. When Teresa isn't writing novels and short stories, she spends her time creating narrated excerpts on her podcast, Books to the Ceiling, where she gets to use all that community theater experience from her teens and twenties along with a little audio editing she learned from her daughter. Teresa is a former English teacher, but also spent many years teaching music to preschoolers working with children of all abilities. Teresa makes her home in Texas with her husband and son.</p>
<h3>Catch Up With Teresa Trent:<br />
<a href="https://pictbooks.tours/VlGNp" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">TeresaTrent.com</a><br />
<a href="https://pictbooks.tours/PV1vU" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Goodreads</a><br />
<a href="https://pictbooks.tours/clKUD" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">BookBub - @TeresaTrent</a><br />
<a href="https://pictbooks.tours/OgHxI" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Instagram - @teresatrent_cozymys</a><br />
<a href="https://pictbooks.tours/kLVHc" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Twitter/X - @ttrent_cozymys</a><br />
<a href="https://pictbooks.tours/hGzaH" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Facebook - @TeresaTrentMysteryWriter</a></h3>
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Debdatta Dasgupta http://www.blogger.com/profile/12575979550597861075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3578371666134702214.post-55413672839893378612024-03-23T00:00:00.009+05:302024-03-23T00:00:00.148+05:30Angelbound Tales (Angelbound Tales #1) by Christina Bauer <p> </p><div style="margin: 0px auto 15px; text-align: center;">
<p>
<a href="https://www.ddsreviews.in/2024/03/angelbound-tales.html" target="_blank">
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<p><strong>Angelbound Tales Volume 1</strong><br /><strong>Christina Bauer</strong><br />(Angelbound Tales, #1)<br />Published by: Monster House Books<br />Publication date: March 19th 2024<br />Genres: Fantasy, Young Adult</p><blockquote><p>Love Myla Lewis? Don’t miss <em>Angelbound Tales Volume One</em>, a collection of five bonus stories from Myla’s world, including:</p>
<p>· <em>Walker’s Love Connection</em>, where Myla uncovers a secret about her honorary older brother<br />
· <em>Sharkie and Snickerdoodles</em>, in which our heroine faces down an uber-evil ghoul in order to get her hands on (what else?) some damned fine cookies.<br />
· <em>Wedding Bells</em>, aka the story of a certain happy couple getting married. Havoc ensues in more ways than one!<br />
· <em>Herbie and Baby Hotdogs</em>, the tale of a quasi-demon whose ‘mortal sin power’ is gluttony. Consider yourself warned.<br />
· <em>Saving Mrs. Pomplemousse</em>, a mini-romance that explores the true meaning of ‘soul mates.’ Say it with me now: awwww!</p>
<p>Originally released in special editions, these many tales now unite in one master collection that spans print, ebook and audio formats! 42,000 words.</p>
<p>***Warning*** If you don’t like quirky indie authors, then you’ll hate the following disclaimer from my inner pirate: <em>Shiver me tinders, if ye haven’t read Angelbound books one through three, then these tales’ll frustrate ye more’n a drunk goat on astroturf. Argh!</em></p>
<p>Now back to my regular pirate-free self: I hope these stories provide a little escape from reality because, let’s face it, we all need one these days </p>
</blockquote>
<p style="font-size: 130%; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/204686798-angelbound-tales-volume-1" target="_blank">Goodreads</a> / <a href="https://amzn.to/4abLsF1" target="_blank">Amazon</a> / <a href="https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/angelbound-tales-volume-one-christina-bauer/1144547854%20" target="_blank">Barnes & Noble</a> / <a href="https://books.apple.com/us/book/angelbound-tales-volume-one/id6475273045" target="_blank">iBooks</a> / <a href="https://www.kobo.com/ca/en/ebook/angelbound-tales-volume-one" target="_blank">Kobo</a></p>
<p style="text-align: center;">—</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><strong>EXCERPT:</strong></p>
<p style="text-align: center;">Walker’s Love Connection<br />
Myla</p>
<p>My tail and I <em>always</em> get along.</p>
<p>Until we don’t.</p>
<p>Take now, for instance. I drive my ancient station wagon, Betsy, through the many strip malls and weedy lots that make up Purgatory. My ride is an un-pimped junker whose radio stays eternally stuck on a polka station. As ‘Roll out the Barrel’ blares from Betsy’s tinny speakers, my tail jabs my shoulder in time to the music. This is its way of saying,<em> I’m not happy with our destination.</em></p>
<p>My tail loathes trips to the Ghoul-E-Mart.</p>
<p>“Come on,” I plead. “I promised Mom that I’d pick up milk from the Ghoul-E.” Technically, our overlords sell us something called <em>white liquid product</em>.</p>
<p>Saying that I’m only getting milk makes zero difference to my tail. Right now, it’s the star of its own little play called, Poke Myla’s Shoulder.</p>
<p><em>Jab, jab.</em></p>
<p>“We aren’t going to the Ghoul-E right away,” I explain. “We’ll hit the arena first.”</p>
<p>There’s only one arena in Purgatory—it’s where warriors like me fight evil souls and demons to the death. Is this an appropriate extra-curricular activity for a high school junior? Ah, no. But, that’s ghouls for you. Our overlords see their minions—meaning quasi demons like me—as the equivalent of pond scum.</p>
<p>My tail pauses for a moment as it considers a potential arena visit. Then, it acts in a way that says,<em> what a load of B-S.</em></p>
<p><em>Jab, jab, jab. </em></p>
<p>Clearly, my tail has trust issues. It doesn’t believe we’re going anywhere near the arena. And there are two reasons why I shouldn’t approach the gladiator games right now. First, it’s not my day to fight. Second, even when I <em>am</em> scheduled to go, I should only show up with my honorary older brother, a ghoul named Walker.</p>
<p>But I have plans, people.</p>
<p><br class="blank" /></p>
<img alt="" src="https://www.xpressobooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/sites/3/2017/03/AB-Christina-Bauer-pic.jpg" style="display: inline-block; float: left; margin: 0px 15px 15px 0px;" />
<blockquote style="margin-bottom: 15px; margin-top: 15px;">
<p>Author Bio:</p>
<p>Christina Bauer thinks that fantasy books are like bacon: they just make life better. All of which is why she writes romance novels that feature demons, dragons, wizards, witches, elves, elementals, and a bunch of random stuff that she brainstorms while riding the Boston T. Oh, and she includes lots of humor and kick-ass chicks, too.<br />
Christina graduated from Syracuse University’s Newhouse School with BA’s in English along with Television, Radio, and Film Production. She lives in Newton, MA with her husband, son, and semi-insane golden retriever, Ruby.</p>
<p>Be the first to know about new releases from Christina by signing up for her newsletter: http://tinyurl.com/CBupdates</p>
<p style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://monsterhousebooks.com/authors/cbauer" target="_blank">Website</a> / <a href="https://www.facebook.com/authorBauer/" target="_blank">Facebook</a> / <a href="https://twitter.com/CB_Bauer" target="_blank">Twitter</a> / <a href="https://www.instagram.com/christina_cb_bauer/" target="_blank">Instagram</a> / <a href="http://monsterhousebooks.com/blog/category/christina" target="_blank">Blog</a> / <a href="https://www.linkedin.com/in/christina-bauer-481b12139/" target="_blank">LinkedIn</a></p>
</blockquote>
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<p style="text-align: center;"></p>Debdatta Dasgupta http://www.blogger.com/profile/12575979550597861075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3578371666134702214.post-26730436763374526312024-03-20T00:00:00.004+05:302024-03-21T15:50:10.390+05:30These Family Ties: An Extreme Taboo Anthology<p> </p><div style="margin: 0px auto 15px; text-align: center;">
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<p><strong>These Family Ties: An Extreme Taboo Anthology</strong><br />Publication date: September 10th 2024<br />Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance</p><blockquote><p>Weave your way through the Complex Taboo love that’s Thicker Than Blood. Lose yourself in the Wrath and Ruin of The Loveless, and always remember that Daddy Knows Best how to pull you out of The Chaos Between illicit emotions as you Double Down on everything you feel.</p>
<p>These Family Ties is an extremely taboo anthology that is not for the close-minded. Due to the nature of these stories, it’s best to leave your morals at the door.</p>
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<p style="text-align: center;"></p>Debdatta Dasgupta http://www.blogger.com/profile/12575979550597861075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3578371666134702214.post-86225888833897208152024-03-18T00:00:00.003+05:302024-03-18T00:00:00.140+05:30Read an Excerpt from Wet, Warm and Noisy by David A. Willson<p> </p><div style="text-align: center;">
<h2><a href="https://www.ddsreviews.in/2024/02/read-excerpt-from-wet-warm-and-noisy.html" title="Wet, Warm and Noisy by David A. Willson"><img alt="Wet, Warm and Noisy by David A. Willson Banner" class="aligncenter size-full" height="338" src="https://partnersincrimetours.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/01/wet-warm-and-noisy-by-david-a-willson-banner-r2.png" width="600" /></a></h2>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<h2><i>Wet, Warm and Noisy</i></h2>
<h3>by David A. Willson</h3>
<h4>March 4-29, 2024 Virtual Book Tour</h4>
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<h2>Synopsis:</h2>
<div style="float: left; margin-right: 15px; width: 225px;"><img alt="Wet, Warm and Noisy by David A. Willson" border="0" height="300" src="https://partnersincrimetours.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/01/Wet-Warm-and-Noisy-Generic.jpg" style="float: left; margin-bottom: 5px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 15px; margin-top: 5px; margin: 5px 15px 5px 0px;" width="200" /></div>
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<h4>A supernatural crime thriller set in Alaska, the Last Frontier...</h4>
<p>Surrounded by the unforgiving climate of the frozen north, Jake Ward, a tenacious Alaska State Trooper Investigator and cancer survivor, is on a relentless quest to regain his health and return to full-duty status.</p>
<p>But Ward's world takes a bone-chilling turn during a routine polygraph examination when a woman escapes custody, leaving an officer critically injured. What started as an ordinary investigation transforms into a complex web of intrigue, where medical experimentation and consciousness collide.</p>
<p>In "<i>Wet, Warm, and Noisy</i>," Willson masterfully blurs the boundaries between law enforcement and the supernatural, leading readers on a heart-pounding journey through a realm where the tangible and the mysterious intersect. With time slipping away, can Ward decipher the enigmas that defy reason, or will forces that transcend human experience overwhelm him?</p>
<p>Author David A. Willson, with over two decades of experience as an Alaska State Trooper, brings a rare authenticity to crime fiction that will both enlighten and captivate you. Prepare yourself for an electrifying thriller that challenges the very foundations of our reality.</p>
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<blockquote class="details" style="margin: 20px; padding: 20px;">
<h3>Book Details:</h3>
<p><b>Genre:</b> Speculative Crime Thriller<br />
<b>Published by:</b> Seeker Press<br />
<b>Publication Date:</b> March 2024<br />
<b>Number of Pages:</b> 236<br />
<b>ASIN:</b> B0CR4BV1XP <br />
<b>Series:</b> A Jake Ward Novel, 1<br />
<b>Book Links:</b> <a href="https://pictbooks.tours/1Fj00" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Amazon</a> | <a href="https://pictbooks.tours/RByfy" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Goodreads</a> </p>
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<h3>Read an excerpt:</h3>
<div class="excerpt" style="border-color: 800000; border-style: groove; border-width: 3px; height: 250px; overflow: auto;">
<h6>Palmer, Alaska - Today</h6>
<p>Cool springtime winds kicked up across the shooting range just outside the Palmer city limits. Behind the long mound of dirty ice and gravel that served as a backstop, the majestic Chugach mountains, half-covered in snow, stood proudly in the distance as two men faced a target stand. The target was cardboard, the outline of a human torso stapled to two upright posts. The men were real, however. One was an Alaska State Trooper firearms instructor serving as range master. The other was Trooper Investigator Jacob Ward.</p>
<p>The shot timer sounded and Ward’s right hand went to his hip. In a fluid motion, his thumb defeated the retention mechanism and his fingers clasped the handgrip to free the .40 caliber Glock pistol from his belt, then pointed it toward the target. At least he hadn’t gotten hung up on the holster this time.</p>
<p>Grip. Clear. Rock-and-lock. </p>
<p>Almost a second had already passed when his left hand moved from its place on his solar plexus to the pistol, completing his grip on the gun. The smack step.</p>
<p>He pushed it forward to the target, closing one eye as he focused on the front sight. The look step.</p>
<p>He imagined his index finger pulling the slack off the trigger as he prepared to deliver two shots, center mass, but couldn’t be sure, because he couldn’t feel it. Not even a bit.</p>
<p>Pop. Pop.</p>
<p>Two shots. One had gone early, and hit wide of the target because his presentation was terrible. It’d been too long since he’d been to the range and the results were showing. Then, of course, there was the other issue.</p>
<p>He aimed the gun higher, focusing on the head of the paper target. </p>
<p>Focus.</p>
<p>His finger started to pull back again when the shot timer beeped again.</p>
<p>Pop.</p>
<p>Too late.</p>
<p>“Overtime,” the range master said, as if Jake didn’t know. It was his third penalty in as many rounds. “First shot went off early, which wouldn’t be a problem if you had a better presentation, but it’s wide. And slow.”</p>
<p>“Yeah.”</p>
<p>“Fingers still numb?”</p>
<p>“Nah,” Ward lied, then turned back and forth, doing his safety scans before inserting a full magazine and replacing the pistol into the holster at his hip. Frustrated and nervous, he needlessly adjusted his hearing protection. A breeze swept across the range, startling him as it brought a chill to his shaved head. Maybe he should have worn something warmer than his State Trooper ball cap, but the blue BDUs and cap were as close to a uniform as he could get until he got approval for full duty. He wanted to feel like a Trooper today. In a bad way.</p>
<p>“Are you pushing this too soon? The Captain is happy to keep you on light duty for a while yet.”</p>
<p>“If I don’t get out here and just do it, I’ll never qualify. Neuropathy or not.”</p>
<p>“True. But with three overtimes already, I’m not sure you’re gonna make any progress with a qual course today.” The burly range master took a step closer, a concerned look on his face. Ward had rarely seen the man show any feeling - he was all business. “Everyone knows you shoot well, but you’ve had a rough go lately. You’ll get there, but not all at once. Let’s ditch the course and do some slow presentations. Dry practice, maybe. Fundamentals.”</p>
<p>But Ward didn’t move, instead squaring up to the target. It wasn’t just the neuropathy and numb fingers. He had weak toes and shaky hands. And shaky confidence. But he wouldn’t get his mojo back by sitting at a desk. And pity didn't help one bit.</p>
<p>“Suit yourself,” the range master said, then let out a huff and took a step back. He paused a moment, then raised his voice back to range levels. “Again, fail to stop drill at seven yards. Five seconds from the holster.”</p>
<p>Ward focused, his eyes drilling a hole in the target where he wanted the shots to hit.</p>
<p>“Shooter ready!”</p>
<p>The timer sounded.</p>
<p>* * *</p>
<p>The drive to work along the Glenn Highway was uneventful, other than a speeder that insisted on doing eighty-five, tailgating everyone who dared occupy their lane. If he’d been driving his assigned vehicle, Ward would have activated his emergency lights and pulled the punk over for a friendly conversation. But light duty status means no Trooper rig unless you have special permission, not even an unmarked one. And no gun, at least until he could qualify.</p>
<p>The occasional wind gust caused Ward’s blue Chevy pickup to sway within the lanes, distracting him from the sound of the political commentary streaming through the truck’s speakers. The talk radio host paused for a news report announcing a shooting at a gas station in Anchorage last night, municipal budget cuts, and something about a missing college kid. There would always be crime, and therefore, plenty of job security.</p>
<p>The traffic got thicker as Ward traveled through Eagle River, Anchorage’s closest suburb, then even worse as he exited off the highway onto Muldoon Road. Muldoon became Tudor Road, and he turned into the parking lot of the Alaska Bureau of Investigation.</p>
<p>He parked the truck and came through the side entrance, stopping at the break room to see if the coffee was rolling yet, hoping that a fellow caffeine addict had beaten him to work today. The empty pot announced no such luck. A few minutes later, he welcomed a steady stream of black goodness into the pot and he was on his way down the hall to the office.</p>
<p>The Alaska Bureau of Investigation’s Technical Crimes Unit was a modest space in a boring, rectangular building in east Anchorage. What happened between those walls, however, was anything but boring. One sergeant, two civilian techs and three investigators were involved in some of the biggest criminal investigations in Alaska. Even when they didn’t have primary case responsibility, they provided critical support to other officers. It was the variety that had attracted Ward to this kind of work. Sure, he had a talent for technology, which helped get the job, but that wasn’t why he was here. What attracted him was the fact that no two days were ever the same. He could write a search warrant for a child exploitation case in the morning, then do a forensic computer exam for a homicide case before lunch. He might kick a door on a building search, only to be called away to sit shotgun in a helicopter, acting as a spotter for a search and rescue. The variety of work duties assigned to an Alaska State Trooper Investigator was unparalleled.</p>
<p>Unless you were on light duty.</p>
<p>“Ward!”</p>
<p>It was Sergeant Ballack down the hall, shouting from his office. Ward got to his feet, snagging his notebook and a pen on the way out of his cubicle. That shout always came with some ‘other duty as assigned,’ or so the trooper saying goes.</p>
<p>As always, the sergeant’s office smelled old, musty maybe. He didn't know if it was Ballack’s bad cologne or his shampoo, but then his sense of smell kinda sucked. Chemotherapy will do that to ya.</p>
<p>The Sergeant turned to face Ward as he entered, grabbing a few papers off his desk as he did so. The man had quite the glorious head of hair and it probably took some pretty fancy conditioner to keep its form, adding a good three inches to his already impressive height.</p>
<p>“Whatcha got for me, boss?”</p>
<p>“Have a seat,” Ballack said. He was impeccably dressed, as always, with a sharp red tie and blue tailored suit. “How ya feeling?”</p>
<p>“I’m fine.”</p>
<p>“Ward, you’re not fine. Cut the crap. Nobody who’s battling pancreatic cancer is fine. Serious. How are you?”</p>
<p>“Surgery went well enough. Chemo is over and my oncologist thinks I’ve got a shot. Neuropathy is getting better every day. I’m ready for full duty, sir.”</p>
<p>“My wife has a friend that works at a cancer clinic. She said you’re not out of the woods till you hit five years. Is that right?”</p>
<p>Heck, I’d love to make it five years. A few months ago, I thought I was toast.</p>
<p>“With pancreatic, it comes back fast, or it doesn’t come back at all. If I make it two years, I’m probably ok.” He didn’t tell him about the other problems, though. Digestive issues causing low energy, the numb fingers and toes, memory lapses, concentration, yada yada. Ya can’t kill cancer cells without killing a lot of other stuff, apparently.</p>
<p>“Don’t rush it, ok?” Ballack put down the papers. “I can keep you busy on light duty for a long time.”</p>
<p>Not the words he wanted to hear, and standing in the Sarge’s office discussing death and light duty, which was almost as bad, tested Ward’s patience.</p>
<p>“What do you have there, Sarge?”</p>
<p>“Polygraph. You game?”</p>
<p>“Absolutely. What’s the case?”</p>
<p>“Palmer patrol picked up some crazy chick on grave shift. Ahem. I mean, ‘a person in crisis.’ She tried to break into a warehouse a couple of nights ago. Then she babbled about being kidnapped, something about a kid, all kinds of nutty stuff.” Ballack rolled his eyes. “I’m thinking poly her, see if she’s cracked. If her claims are legit, we’ll follow up. What do you think?”</p>
<p>“I’ve been looking for some actual police work to do.” He reached for the paper.</p>
<p>“Find out about the kidnapping. If it happened at all. If you get admissions about why she was trying to get into the warehouse, well, that’s really the target.”</p>
<p>“We rarely run polygraphs on victims.”</p>
<p>“She’s full of crap. She’s a doper who tried to rob a building and we want to know why. Poly is a pretext for interrogation on the burg.”</p>
<p>“That’s fine. I haven’t run a poly in months and I’m going blind on all those public information requests you keep handing me. It’ll give me something real to do.”</p>
<p>Ward moved to walk out of the office.</p>
<p>“Ward.”</p>
<p>He turned back.</p>
<p>“Take it easy, son.”</p>
<p>“It’s a polygraph, boss.” Ward furrowed his brow. “I’ll survive.”</p>
<p>“Sergeant Vance told me about the range.”</p>
<p>Crap.</p>
<p>“Don’t push it, Ward. I’m not talking about the polygraph, or the range. Just in general. Bodies take time to heal and you’ve been through hell.”</p>
<p>He has no idea. “Got it, boss.”</p>
<p>“I mean it. We’ll wait for you to be strong.”</p>
<p>Ward bit his lip, trying to hold back, but the pity was too much for his pride. “I got it, ok? Got it. You care. Everyone cares. Don’t rush it. Loud and clear. I’m good.”</p>
<p>Then he walked out of the room.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Excerpt from <i>Wet, Warm and Noisy</i> by David A. Willson. Copyright 2024 by David A. Willson. Reproduced with permission from David A. Willson. All rights reserved.</p>
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<p> </p>
<h2>Author Bio:</h2>
<div style="float: right; margin-left: 15px; width: 230px;"><img align="left" alt="David A. Willson" border="0" height="200" src="https://partnersincrimetours.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/01/wet-warm-and-noisy-by-david-willson-author.png" style="float: right; margin-bottom: 5px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 15px; margin-top: 5px; margin: 5px 15px 5px 0px;" width="200" /></div>
<p>David A. Willson, a retired Alaska State Trooper with more than two decades of service, brings unmatched authenticity to his crime fiction. During his career, he served as a certified police instructor, polygraph program coordinator, court-certified computer forensics expert and supervisor of both Major Crimes and Technical Crimes units. With over a decade in an investigative capacity, he supervised thousands of felony cases, chasing Alaska’s most dangerous criminals.</p>
<h3>Catch Up With Our Author:<br />
<a href="https://pictbooks.tours/EOvIt" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">www.DavidAWillson.com</a><br />
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<a href="https://pictbooks.tours/9Aen0" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">BookBub - @DavidAWillson</a><br />
<a href="https://pictbooks.tours/asGdN" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Facebook - @DWillsonAuthor</a></h3>
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Debdatta Dasgupta http://www.blogger.com/profile/12575979550597861075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3578371666134702214.post-60711357080194014372024-03-15T23:30:00.005+05:302024-03-15T23:30:00.140+05:30Sparktopia by JA Huss<p> </p><div style="margin: 0px auto 15px; text-align: center;">
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<p><strong>Sparktopia</strong><br /><strong>JA Huss</strong><br />Publication date: September, 19th 2024<br />Genres: Adult, Fantasy, Romance</p><blockquote><p>Spark is light, Spark is magic, Spark is power.</p>
<p>Spark is everything and it blooms inside the bodies of Tau City’s young women. Once a decade, in exchange for enough power to keep the city modern and comfortable, a Spark Maiden must be sacrificed to their mysterious tower god in a ritual called The Extraction.</p>
<p>Ten Maidens are Chosen, but only one enters the tower as a sacrifice, never to be seen again. The nine leftovers are elevated to celebrity status and spend the next decade living in the luxurious Maiden Tower, wearing couture gala gowns, and partying with the city’s most interesting and beautiful people. Every young woman in Tau City wants to be a Spark Maiden because the odds have always been in their favor.</p>
<p>Until now.</p>
<p>One by one, the greedy god has summoned the leftover Spark Maidens into sacrifice. When Clara Birch, Spark Maiden number nine, gets the call, she fully expects her fiancé, Finn Scott, the Extraction Master’s son, to save her.</p>
<p>Spoiler alert: He’s not going to.</p>
<p>At the same time, a rebellion is brewing. The forgotten underclass is plotting the end of the god and his tower with strategically-placed Rebel spies that will bring it all down. Jasina Bell is a young woman on a mission to make history and she will stop at nothing to get the fame she deserves.</p>
<p>When Clara is forced into the tower against her will, she makes an unexpected discovery. There is no god—just a man, one willing to do what Finn Scott wouldn’t: Save Clara Birch.</p>
<p>Even if it means destroying the entire world to do so.</p>
<p>Sparktopia is a multiple first-person fantasy romance packed with spice and morally-gray characters with extraordinary powers. It includes the themes of duty and honor, false gods, ultimate betrayal, and redemptive hero.</p>
<p>Tropes:<br />
Morally Grey<br />
Found Family<br />
Duty and Honor<br />
False Gods<br />
Ultimate Betrayal</p>
</blockquote>
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<blockquote style="margin-bottom: 15px; margin-top: 15px;">
<p>Author Bio:</p>
<p>JA Huss is a New York Times Bestselling author and has been on the USA Today Bestseller's list 21 times. She writes characters with heart, plots with twists, and perfect endings. Her books have sold millions of copies all over the world. Her book, Eighteen, was nominated for a Voice Arts Award and an Audie Award in 2016 and 2017 respectively. Her audiobook, Mr. Perfect, was nominated for a Voice Arts Award in 2017. Her audiobook, Taking Turns, was nominated for an Audie Award in 2018. Her book, Total Exposure, was nominated for a RITA Award in 2019. She lives on a ranch with her family, dogs, cats, birds, chickens, horse, donkeys, and goats in Colorado.</p>
<p style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.jahuss.com" target="_blank">Website</a> / <a href="http://on.fb.me/PPpkr3" target="_blank">Facebook Page</a> / <a href="http://bit.ly/3697FlW" target="_blank">Facebook Fan Group</a> / <a href="http://bit.ly/350gUF5" target="_blank">Instagram</a> / <a href="https://twitter.com/JAHuss" target="_blank">Twitter</a> / <a href="http://bit.ly/1SW2AB0" target="_blank">Bookbub</a> / <a href="https://amzn.to/2uO4NgR" target="_blank">Amazon</a> / <a href="https://smarturl.it/p994eo" target="_blank">Audible</a></p>
</blockquote>
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<p style="text-align: center;"></p>Debdatta Dasgupta http://www.blogger.com/profile/12575979550597861075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3578371666134702214.post-55717745271689417662024-03-15T00:00:00.002+05:302024-03-15T00:00:00.140+05:30Top Three Tips for Writing Horror by J. L. Willow<p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.ddsreviews.in/2024/03/top-3-tips-for-writing-horror-by-jl-willow.html" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="1024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZWJ1InsWJ0koQV0TA0eOHdZNMN7z_xBtf2q1ix6TkwJmqYIlyWHv8RlDxv4y5IuogOjCvrMFJxW_0VQgJgPc2xx0eUeRKySn279-zCfdfGtcjHh9yb8Sk_68l1yDhiIznMY55OpLVednBPEexPejaefFhSwYJE0yw3SlRMBu3WH7Ni2ywK-s7E9nk9Lg/s16000/The%20Ainsworth%20Killings%20of%201879%20Banner.jpg" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><br /></span><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.ddsreviews.in/" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2047" data-original-width="1984" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ4dBBJsjXiafPsYM3Uk0mVwPLumNcvn6GNWgeqeApmAfeWN6KxiloDthp1bDtv8d2kBUx0Z8hA604ZXOm4GF2HXn11mb7zSwonMGGG2c8QkieXjMwYE5Lboj3ce0UAsJXDPhy0-isD2bes7YETegBrgrtuICHhX37O1ZoNOOeNFZY3ey0zrnTyKI11YQ/w194-h200/jl-willow-author%20pic.webp" width="194" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: inherit;">J. L. Willow is the author of several works including the Amazon bestselling novel Missing Her. She graduated from Stevens Institute of Technology with a Bachelor of Engineering in mechanical engineering and a minor in engineering management. While she spends her days working in her field of study, her nights are spent dreaming up new thrilling (and often horrifying) tales.<br /><br /></span><h4 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://jlwillow.com/" target="_blank">Website</a> | <a href="https://www.instagram.com/jlwillowbooks/?hl=en" target="_blank">Instagram</a> | <a href="https://www.facebook.com/jlwillowbooks" target="_blank">Facebook</a> I <a href="https://twitter.com/jlwillowbooks?lang=en" target="_blank">Twitter</a> | <a href="https://www.youtube.com/jlwillow" target="_blank">Youtube</a> I <a href="https://amzn.to/48ScOPe" target="_blank">Amazon</a> I <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17311767.J_L_Willow" target="_blank">Goodreads</a></span></h4><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><span id="docs-internal-guid-2bbfea28-7fff-df66-7704-c71aa7f8413f"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><h1 style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><u>Top Three Tips for Writing Horror</u></span></h1><div><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span id="docs-internal-guid-01de27e2-7fff-169e-61d5-9ffe0aecc41f"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">
When people think of horror, a few things often come to mind: gore, jumpscares, and ghosts to name a few. It’s easy in film to make the viewer jump with a loud noise and a sudden scary image, but with reading, it’s much harder. How do you instill a sense of dread and unease into someone without the help of any visuals, who’s likely curled up someplace snug in the comfort of their own home? I’d argue it’s much more of a challenge to accomplish fear with a book than with a movie, but over the years I’ve come up with quite a few tactics that help boost tension and get the reader on the edge of their seats. With each tip I’ll give, I’ll include an example from one of my own books to better expand on the idea – so minor spoilers ahead.</span></p><br /><ol style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-inline-start: 48px; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><li aria-level="1" dir="ltr" style="font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; list-style-type: decimal; text-wrap: nowrap; vertical-align: baseline;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; text-wrap: wrap; vertical-align: baseline;">Give the audience more information than the MC (Main Character)</span></p></li></ol><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">This is one of my favorite things to include in horror or even thriller novels. There are several ways to accomplish it, but it’s a great tactic for putting the reader on edge. If the audience knows something that puts a character in danger and they’re helpless to communicate it, that can easily invoke stress.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">See the example below from my newest novel. Two brothers are peering into a forest, curious and fearful of what may be lurking just beyond their view:</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline;">“It looks like it’s only a few steps in,” said Austin, oblivious to his brother’s unease. “I can reach it.” </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline;">Levi grabbed Austin’s arm. “I don’t like it here. We gotta–”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline;">Off to their left, a twig snapped. Levi’s head twisted in the direction of the sound, his eyes wide.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline;">He didn’t feel Austin slip through his grasp.</span></p><ul style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-inline-start: 48px; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><li aria-level="1" dir="ltr" style="font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; list-style-type: disc; text-wrap: nowrap; vertical-align: baseline;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: right;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; text-wrap: wrap; vertical-align: baseline;">The Ainsworth Killings of 1879</span></p></li></ul><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">If Levi had realized immediately he wasn’t holding onto his brother any longer, there would be no tension on the reader’s part. By making him preoccupied, it puts the audience at an advantage and puts the MC at a disadvantage. It also introduces the question of “how long will it take the MC to realize what happened?” This creates more unease, which is a key component of the horror genre. </span></p><br /><ol start="2" style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-inline-start: 48px; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><li aria-level="1" dir="ltr" style="font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; list-style-type: decimal; text-wrap: nowrap; vertical-align: baseline;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; text-wrap: wrap; vertical-align: baseline;">The art of the slow reveal</span></p></li></ol><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">This tactic is, in my opinion, the most powerful of the three. As a writer, you have control over what gets explained to the reader in what order. It’s not like a movie or a television show where the viewer is taking in an entire scene at once. The reading audience is forced to only absorb one sentence of information at a time, as provided by the author. That means the writer has control over how much is given the audience, in what order, and how quickly. This can create a great slow reveal, like in the excerpt below. This story takes place in an abandoned school with portraits of children painted on the walls:</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline;">Liam glanced around the room. “Well, I don’t hear any whispers now. And the kids in this room don’t seem to be moving. They’re just standing there.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline;">“I don’t —” I broke off, my mind catching up a second later as the words processed. “What do you mean, standing? They were lying down before.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline;">Liam froze. The four of us turned as one to face the walls. I felt my knees go weak beneath me when I saw them. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline;">Every single child painted on the walls was standing, their blank faces staring straight at the center of the room.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline;">They were looking directly at us.</span></p><ul style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-inline-start: 48px; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><li aria-level="1" dir="ltr" style="font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; list-style-type: disc; text-wrap: nowrap; vertical-align: baseline;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: right;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; text-wrap: wrap; vertical-align: baseline;">A Weighted Soul and Other Dark and Twisted Tales</span></p></li></ul><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Just like the example from </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Ainsworth</span><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">, if the MC had immediately realized what was wrong with what Liam said, there would be no build and release of tension. But even more importantly, there would be no sense of discovery or reveal on the part of the reader. Having the MC piece together their thoughts until they reach a scary conclusion is much more satisfying than the characters knowing everything at once. It’s also more realistic, as the characters are experiencing all of these strange events for the first time and may backtrack or rethink things as the story continues. </span></p><br /><ol start="3" style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-inline-start: 48px; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><li aria-level="1" dir="ltr" style="font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; list-style-type: decimal; text-wrap: nowrap; vertical-align: baseline;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; text-wrap: wrap; vertical-align: baseline;">Show the reader, don’t tell</span></p></li></ol><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">This last tactic might seem basic in terms of writing skills, but it is even more critical for authors writing suspense or horror. In a movie, if someone gets injured or is scared, they wouldn’t say, “I’m hurt,” or “I’m scared.” Not only because a normal person probably wouldn’t say those things, but also because it’s more interesting for the audience to read the characters’ emotions based on their facial expressions and actions. See the excerpt below for a similar example, but with a twist. This scene takes place when the MC, James, is in a runaway car:</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline;">James saw the side of the brick building from afar. But the car turned to speed toward it without a second of hesitation. He barely had time to scream before impact.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-indent: 36pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline;">There was a terrible crunching sound, the tinkling of glass — and then silence. A tendril of scarlet slowly crept down the side of James’ face, trickling into his half-open eye.</span></p><ul style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-inline-start: 48px; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><li aria-level="1" dir="ltr" style="font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; list-style-type: disc; text-wrap: nowrap; vertical-align: baseline;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: right;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; text-wrap: wrap; vertical-align: baseline;">A Weighted Soul and Dark and Twisted Tales</span></p></li></ul><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">In case it wasn’t clear, James is dead (</span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">spoiler!). </span><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">While I could’ve simply written “the car crash was fatal,” it’s much more interesting and disturbing for the reader to have it shown and focusing on small details. The trail of blood tells the reader that James is injured – the half-open eye tells the reader James is dead. Little moments like that where you take your time to show the reader the scene without flat-out telling them anything makes it not only more interesting for the audience, but also more compelling and engaging. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="text-wrap: nowrap;"> </span></span><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">I hope these tips have provided a bit more insight into how I structure and focus my storytelling. If the excerpts from my work intrigued you, </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">A Weighted Soul </span><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">is available on Amazon now and </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">The Ainsworth Killings of 1879</span><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline;"> launches on March 13, 2024. Good luck with your spooky stories and happy writing!</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span></p><div style="white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><a href="https://www.ddsreviews.in/2024/03/top-3-tips-for-writing-horror-by-jl-willow.html" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="4096" data-original-width="2975" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGQnIdIQrwYcGPQXFXoEu3m4mN32TH7I32shPSeNN__fFXHJ9SHHJGbyo-7D583fZInKGkQIMeNiXCId8vB4-xjjt3Oe7wlXE6MdcWnn3ruiuZCKGQXg6brJjfBaerLn2p_Gg14jyFc7dKrui6W3DUz5NBEkQdNhbnlu7b7lKI7qNh4nGeK6TUWxbUgq4/s320/The%20Ainsworth%20Killings%20of%201879%20Cover.jpg" width="232" /></a></div><span style="white-space-collapse: preserve;">Missouri, 1879. Levi Oakley and his younger brother live on their father’s farm in the small town of Ainsworth. Their simple lives are suddenly uprooted when one of their classmates is brutally killed – and Levi finds himself under suspicion. To convince the town of his innocence, the boy must hunt down the real culprit and uncover what truly happened that fateful night. He soon realizes, however, that whoever he’s searching for is far more dangerous than he initially believed. And with his father’s continued insistence that he stay away from the ominous woods bordering the farm, Levi begins to wonder whether a murderer on the loose is the only thing he should be scared of.</span><span style="white-space-collapse: preserve;">
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</span><h4 style="text-align: left;"><span style="white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/201904529-the-ainsworth-killings-of-1879" target="_blank">Goodreads</a> | <a href="https://amzn.to/49PiKdn" target="_blank">Amazon IN</a> | <a href="https://amzn.to/4caJHtv" target="_blank">Amazon US</a></span></span></h4></div></span></span></div></span></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Debdatta Dasgupta http://www.blogger.com/profile/12575979550597861075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3578371666134702214.post-68848842133339431052024-03-11T23:30:00.002+05:302024-03-13T06:40:15.452+05:30If You Loved Me by Brianna Remus<p> </p><div style="margin: 0px auto 15px; text-align: center;">
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<p><strong>If You Loved Me</strong><br /><strong>Brianna Remus</strong><br />Publication date: April 26th 2024<br />Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance</p><blockquote><div><b>My parents would lose their minds if they found out their precious daughter lost her virginity to the town’s notorious bad boy and ex-convict.<span class="gmail-Apple-converted-space"> </span></b></div>
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<div><b>Ranger Adams might have been a dangerous pariah after he was released from prison, but he was the only man I wanted. And after I convinced him to take me on a date, I got exactly what my body…and heart desired.<span class="gmail-Apple-converted-space"> </span></b></div>
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<div>I spent my entire life trying to get away from my parents’ overbearing grasp. They’ve tried to control every part of my life, even down to the man I was supposed to marry. That was the price of being born into one of the South’s richest families.<span class="gmail-Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
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<div>The second I had a chance to get away, I did. Ten years of pissing them off and making my dreams come true was worth the sacrifice. No fun. No relationships. And no sex.<span class="gmail-Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
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<div>My life had been all work until Ranger came back into town. Everyone whispered about what he’d done to land in prison. But I didn’t care.<span class="gmail-Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
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<div>He was rough around the edges, wild, and free.<span class="gmail-Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
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<div>And I wanted every bit of what he was willing to give me.<span class="gmail-Apple-converted-space"> </span></div>
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<p>Author Bio:</p>
<p>Brianna Remus is a Florida-based author who lives with her husband, three pups, and terrorizing cat. She started her writing journey in 2016 to ward off the woes of graduate school. The light-hearted hobby quickly turned into a passion filled dream that consistently distracts her from the real world.</p>
<p>When Brianna isn't working as a psychology resident or writing books, you can find her getting lost in the worlds created by others (through writing and movies), spending a day at the ocean, or taking a walk in the forest. She loves to spend her days outdoors surrounded by the beauties of nature.</p>
<p>A true Tolkien nerd, she also spends a lot of her time immersed in Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit, as well as praying that Amazon doesn't completely fuck up the new LOTR series.</p>
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<a href="https://www.briannaremus.com/" target="_blank">Website</a> / <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/19147144.Brianna_Remus" target="_blank">Goodreads</a> / <a href="https://www.bookbub.com/profile/brianna-remus?list=about" target="_blank">Bookbub</a> / <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@authorbriannaremus?is_from_webapp=1&sender_device=pc" target="_blank">TikTok</a> / <a href="https://www.instagram.com/authorbriannaremus/" target="_blank">Instagram</a></p>
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<p style="text-align: center;">—<br />
<a href="https://www.ddsreviews.in/" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank"><img src="https://www.xpressobooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/sites/3/2022/10/Xpresso.png" style="height: auto; margin-bottom: 15px; max-width: 65%;" /></a></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"></p>Debdatta Dasgupta http://www.blogger.com/profile/12575979550597861075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3578371666134702214.post-54336242348846743612024-03-11T00:00:00.005+05:302024-03-11T00:00:00.242+05:30Read an Excerpt from Never Fall Again by Lynn H Blackburn<p> </p><div style="text-align: center;">
<h2><i>Never Fall Again</i></h2>
<h3>by Lynn H Blackburn</h3>
<h4>March 4-29, 2024 Virtual Book Tour</h4>
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<h2>Synopsis:</h2>
<div style="float: left; margin-right: 15px; width: 225px;"><img alt="Never Fall Again by Lynn H Blackburn" border="0" height="300" src="https://partnersincrimetours.com/wp-content/uploads/forminator/13997_115b15d08b2c7bb7da2712949e71a2f7/uploads/9UxKIvPqe343-Never-Fall-Again.png" style="float: left; margin-bottom: 5px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 15px; margin-top: 5px; margin: 5px 15px 5px 0px;" width="200" /></div>
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<p>Landry Hutton has spent three years rebuilding her life behind the secure gates of The Haven, an exclusive resort on the outskirts of Gossamer Falls, North Carolina. As the artist-in-residence, and with her pottery prized by The Haven's guests, Landry is finally ready to settle in permanently. She wants to give her daughter, Eliza, a safe home to grow up in and hires former Marine Callum Shaw to handle the construction.</p>
<p>Cal grew up in Gossamer Falls and always knew he would someday join his family's business. He longs for a family of his own but has almost given up on that ever happening. Landry is funny, gifted, and everything Cal could ever want in a partner, but he vows to keep his distance. Landry has a daughter and a past. Cal has been down that road before and barely survived when the woman he loved left, taking her two sons with her. He can't bear to lose like that again.</p>
<p>Before construction on the house can begin, Landry's pottery is destroyed in a suspicious fire. It soon becomes clear that Landry and Eliza are in grave danger--but because of whom? But, after losing one relationship, he is hesitant to try again.</p>
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<h3>Praise for <i>Never Fall Again</i>:</h3>
<p>"What a fabulous story with characters who will live in your head--and heart--long after the last word." <br /><span style="color: #c3ba2a; margin-left: 40px;">~ Lynette Eason, award-winning, bestselling author of the Lake City Heroes series</span></p>
<p>"Lynn Blackburn's voice is unrivaled! A must-read." <br /><span style="color: #c3ba2a; margin-left: 40px;">~ Elizabeth Goddard, bestselling author of <em><a href="https://partnersincrimetours.com/cold-light-of-day-by-elizabeth-goddard/" rel="noopener" target="_blank">Cold Light of Day</a></em></span></p>
<p>"This book had it all--a delicious romance, obsession, found family, redemption and reconciliation, edge-of-your-seat suspense, and the kind of ending we all root for!" <br /><span style="color: #c3ba2a; margin-left: 40px;">~ Susan May Warren, USA Today bestselling and RITA Award-winning author</span></p>
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<h3>Book Details:</h3>
<p><b>Genre:</b> Romantic Suspense <br />
<b>Published by:</b> Revell<br />
<b>Publication Date:</b> March 12, 2024 <br />
<b>Number of Pages:</b> 352<br />
<b>ISBN:</b> 9780800745363 (ISBN10: 0800745361)<br />
<b>Series:</b> Gossamer Falls, Book 1 <br />
<b>Book Links:</b> <a href="https://pictbooks.tours/gO2ZH" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Amazon</a> | <a href="https://pictbooks.tours/gAmk9" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Barnes & Noble</a> | <a href="https://pictbooks.tours/eItIx" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">BookShop.org</a> | <a href="https://pictbooks.tours/2WFci" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Goodreads</a> | <a href="https://pictbooks.tours/Bz2j2" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Baker Book House</a></p>
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<h3>Read an excerpt:</h3>
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<p>They passed several offices before they reached an open door. </p>
<p>“Maisy. Stay.” That same deep voice from the intercom floated to the hallway. </p>
<p>“Oooh! A dog!” Eliza dashed into the room. </p>
<p>Her little sprite was fast and already halfway across the office before Landry realized what was happening. “Eliza, wait!” Fortunately, she stopped at Landry’s words. </p>
<p>“I know, Mommy. Never touch a dog without permission. I just want to see.” </p>
<p>Eliza turned her big brown eyes toward the man who had come around his desk and knelt beside a dog now quivering with excitement. </p>
<p>The man—Callum Shaw, she assumed—met her daughter’s eyes and said, “Your mom’s right. You can’t ever rush at a dog, even dogs as gentle as this big baby. But if it’s okay with your mom . . .” </p>
<p>His eyes, which were as blue as the Carolina sky, now met hers. There was humor and gentleness. And shadows. Something dark flitted across his gaze. But then he blinked and it was gone. </p>
<p>Landry nodded her permission, and he turned all his attention back to her daughter. “This is Maisy. She’s a golden retriever. She’s three years old. She loves long walks in the woods, sunbathing, peanut butter, and belly rubs.” He demonstrated the belly rub. Maisy melted under his touch, and Eliza crept closer. “You can pet her. Maisy doesn’t bite my friends.” </p>
<p>Eliza dropped to her knees beside Callum and held out her hand toward Maisy’s nose. </p>
<p>Maisy took a quick sniff and rewarded Eliza’s good behavior with a lick. Callum stayed where he was until it was clear to everyone that Eliza and Maisy were set, then he rose to his feet and extended a hand. “Ms. Hutton.” </p>
<p>“Landry. Please.” </p>
<p>“Landry. A pleasure.”</p>
<p>Landry kept the contact brief. “Sorry, my hands are rough.” She turned them palms up. “Hazards of the job.” </p>
<p>Why had she said that? What did it matter if her hands were a bit on the crispy side? She didn’t have to prove anything to this man. Embarrassment crept across her and burst through her pores, heating her neck and face, and now she had no idea what to do with her hands. Should she put them down? Tuck them behind her back?</p>
<p>Callum glanced at her hands and turned his own up. “Same here.” He heaved a dramatic sigh. “It’s to my eternal despair that I’ll never land that hand modeling contract I’ve always hoped for.” </p>
<p>His easy humor made it automatic to tease him back. “Well, there’s always ditch digging.” </p>
<p>“Good point. If this construction gig doesn’t work out, I’ll have something to fall back on.” Callum turned his attention to Eliza. “And I gather your name is Eliza?” </p>
<p>She giggled with the abandon unique to happy children. “That’s right, but sometimes Mommy calls me Liza or ZaZa, but never Lizzy because that’s too close to Landry, and it gets confusing.” </p>
<p>Landry tried to keep a straight face as Eliza parroted what she’d heard Landry say too many times to count. </p>
<p>“It’s a pleasure, Ms. Eliza.” Callum pressed a hand to his chest. “I’m Cal Shaw. I’ll answer to Callum, but not LumLum because”— he dropped his voice to a stage whisper—“that’s just not dignified.”</p>
<p>Eliza’s laughter filled the room. Bronwyn hadn’t been wrong about Cal Shaw. He was very good with children. Even now, he kept his attention on Eliza. “Are you good here with Maisy while your mom and I talk?” </p>
<p>“Yes, sir.” </p>
<p>Cal grabbed a legal pad and pen from his desk and took the chair opposite the one he directed Landry to sit in. From their seats, they could both see Eliza and Maisy. </p>
<p>She waited for him to start the conversation, but maybe she was supposed to go first? </p>
<p>“She’s a beau—” </p>
<p>“Land—” </p>
<p>They both stopped talking, and his smile seemed genuine as he nodded to her. “Please. Go ahead.”</p>
<p>“I was going to say your dog is beautiful.” She willed her body to stop flushing scarlet, but it refused to cooperate. She didn’t have to see herself to know that her face, neck, chest, and even her feet were on fire. This was why she did best behind the walls of The Haven. She could interact with the patrons there with minimal difficulty. But put her out in public, and she became a tongue-tied, socially inept disaster. </p>
<p>Cal’s grin held mischief, and he leaned toward her. “If all goes as planned, she’ll be pregnant soon. I bet Eliza would love a puppy for Christmas.” His voice was cajoling and teasing, but at least he had the good sense to keep it too low for Eliza to hear. </p>
<p>He winked in a way that was friendly and not flirtatious, and Landry understood why Bronwyn liked him so much. He leaned back and in a normal voice said, “I gathered from your conversation with Carla that you’re going to build nearby.” </p>
<p>“Yes. I have three acres on the edge of Pierce land.” She watched him carefully as she spoke and was unsurprised when his grip tightened on the pen at her words. </p>
<p>“How long have you lived in Gossamer Falls?” </p>
<p>“Long enough to know the Pierce and Quinn families don’t get along.”</p>
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</p><p>***</p>
<p>Excerpt from <i>Never Fall Again</i> by Lynn H Blackburn. Copyright 2024 by Lynn H Blackburn. Reproduced with permission from Lynn H Blackburn. All rights reserved.</p>
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<h2>Author Bio:</h2>
<div style="float: right; margin-left: 15px; width: 230px;"><img align="left" alt="Lynn H Blackburn" border="0" height="250" src="https://partnersincrimetours.com/wp-content/uploads/forminator/13997_115b15d08b2c7bb7da2712949e71a2f7/uploads/UbprwAL7EctK-Lynn-H-Blackburn-scaled.jpg" style="float: right; margin-bottom: 5px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 15px; margin-top: 5px; margin: 5px 15px 5px 0px;" width="200" /></div>
<p>Lynn H. Blackburn is the award-winning author of <em>Unknown Threat</em>, <em>Malicious Intent</em>, and <em>Under Fire</em>, as well as the Dive Team Investigations series. She loves writing swoon-worthy Southern suspense because her childhood fantasy was to become a spy, but her grown-up reality is that she's a huge chicken and would have been caught on her first mission. She prefers to live vicariously through her characters by putting them into terrifying situations while she sits at home in her pajamas. She lives in Simpsonville, South Carolina, with her true love, Brian, and their three children.</p>
<h3>Catch Up With Our Author:<br />
<a href="https://pictbooks.tours/3iccr" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">www.LynnHBlackburn.com</a><br />
<a href="https://pictbooks.tours/Yewm7" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Goodreads</a><br />
<a href="https://pictbooks.tours/u2iux" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">BookBub - @LynnHBlackburn</a><br />
<a href="https://pictbooks.tours/9KDN0" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Instagram - @lynnhblackburn</a><br />
<a href="https://pictbooks.tours/3rxze" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Twitter/X - @LynnHBlackburn</a><br />
<a href="https://pictbooks.tours/cRmhp" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Facebook - @LynnHBlackburn</a></h3>
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<h2>Tour Participants:</h2>Visit these other great hosts on this tour for more great reviews, interviews, guest posts, and opportunities to WIN in the giveaway!<br /><script src="https://www.linkytools.com/basic_linky_include.aspx?id=313006" type="text/javascript"></script>
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<h2>JOIN IN ON THE GIVEAWAY!</h2>
<h5>This is a giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Tours for Revell & Lynn H Blackburn. See the widget for entry terms and conditions. Void where prohibited.</h5><div data-url="https://kingsumo.com/g/h2ihtj/never-fall-again-by-lynn-h-blackburn" id="kingsumo-embed"></div>
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<h2><a href="https://partnersincrimetours.com/">Get More Great Reads at Partners In Crime Tours</a></h2>
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Debdatta Dasgupta http://www.blogger.com/profile/12575979550597861075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3578371666134702214.post-88599124676579491472024-03-04T00:00:00.003+05:302024-03-04T00:00:00.238+05:30Read an Excerpt from Struck Dead by Andrea Kane<p> </p><div style="text-align: center;">
<h2><a href="https://www.ddsreviews.in/2024/02/struck-dead-by-andrea-kane.htm" title="Struck Dead by Andrea Kane"><img alt="Struck Dead by Andrea Kane Banner" class="aligncenter size-full" height="338" src="https://partnersincrimetours.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/01/struck-dead-by-andrea-kane-banner-r.png" width="600" /></a></h2>
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<h2><i>Struck Dead</i></h2>
<h3>by Andrea Kane</h3>
<h4>March 4 - 29, 2024 Virtual Book Tour</h4>
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<h2>Synopsis:</h2>
<div style="float: left; margin-right: 15px; width: 225px;"><img alt="Struck Dead by Andrea Kane" border="0" height="300" src="https://partnersincrimetours.com/wp-content/uploads/forminator/13997_115b15d08b2c7bb7da2712949e71a2f7/uploads/weZ0HTEU1H6n-9781682320631-scaled.jpg" style="float: left; margin-bottom: 5px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 15px; margin-top: 5px; margin: 5px 15px 5px 0px;" width="200" /></div>
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<h4>The fragile line between life and death… Families that will never be the same…</h4>
<p>When a tragic hit-and-run takes the life of a hardworking family man, multi-millionaire Christopher Hillington becomes the prime suspect, and the whole city of New York alights with speculation as to what happened.</p>
<p>But before the NYPD can establish Hillington’s guilt, he himself is brutally murdered in his own home. As he lays dying, he scrawls the name Casey Woods with his own blood, and the Forensic Instincts team is drawn into a complex mystery that has placed its president in the sights of a desperate killer.</p>
<p>A millionaire’s life is full of secrets and suspects. So as the baffled NYPD investigates Casey for the murder, and the body-count ratchets up, Casey herself becomes another potential victim. The FI team’s hardcore investigation has them twisting and turning through suspects and secrets, where the stakes intensify―and so does the collateral damage. As Casey and the team get closer to finding the killer, the unthinkable happens, and the life of one of FI’s own hangs in the blood-stained balance.</p>
<p>They say dead men tell no tales, but blood doesn’t lie. Peeling back layer after layer of deception, the team will cross whatever lines are necessary to solve the case, get justice for the families, and make their team whole again…unless the relentless killer gets to them first.</p>
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<h3>Book Details:</h3>
<p><b>Genre:</b> Suspense Thriller<br />
<b>Published by:</b> Bonnie Meadow Publishing<br />
<b>Publication Date:</b> March 2024<br />
<b>Number of Pages:</b> 384 <br />
<b>ISBN:</b> 9781682320631 (ISBN10: 1682320634) <br />
<b>Series:</b> Forensic Instincts (#10)<br />
<b>Book Links:</b> <a href="https://pictbooks.tours/xeD7Z" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Amazon</a> | <a href="https://pictbooks.tours/IirNy" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Barnes & Noble</a> | <a href="https://pictbooks.tours/7Cjk6" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">BookShop.org</a> | <a href="https://pictbooks.tours/lJRXY" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Goodreads</a> </p>
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<h3>Read an excerpt:</h3>
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<h4>1</h4>
<h6>Offices of Forensic Instincts<br />
Tribeca, New York<br />
Main conference room<br />
Monday, 9:40 a.m.</h6>
<p>Casey Woods, the president of Forensic Instincts, stood at the head of the oval table, her jaw having dropped. She pressed her iPhone closer to her ear, and tried to reconcile herself, both to who the caller was, and the reason for her call.</p>
<p>She certainly didn’t sound like the Angela King that Casey knew. And why in the name of heaven was she reaching out to Casey, of all people?</p>
<p>Angela repeated her original demand: “I need you to meet me now—as in drop everything and get over here.” This time her voice was commanding but shaken.</p>
<p>Shaken? Angela King?</p>
<p>Casey’s mind raced.</p>
<p>Angela was a high-powered and aggressive criminal defense attorney at Harris, Porter, & Donnelly. A virtual barracuda. Rumor had it that she was next up to make partner. No surprise. She successfully defended the richest of the rich, from corporate executives, to wealthy entrepreneurs, to “businessmen” with rumored links to Organized Crime—a fact she chose to overlook since they were affluent enough to pay her fees. She and Forensic Instincts were on opposite sides of law enforcement. They’d battled it out more than once the criminals that FI had helped catch becoming the very criminals Angela would defend.</p>
<p>Needless to say, the FI team and Angela weren’t friends.</p>
<p>And yet, here she was, calling Casey on an urgent, time-is-of-the-essence matter—one she seemed incredibly high-strung about.</p>
<p>“Casey?” Angela repeated. “Did you hear me?”</p>
<p>Casey lowered herself into a chair. “I heard you. What is this about? And why me, of all people?”</p>
<p>“You’ll see for yourself,” Angela replied. She rattled off the address of a luxury skyscraper on Manhattan’s Upper East Side. “Hurry. I’m jeopardizing my career by waiting to call 9-1-1. I can’t wait much longer. But you have to view the scene first and later provide me with some answers. No more questions. Just come. I have a key to the building’s back door. I’ll let you in. We’ll use the freight elevator.”</p>
<p>Casey’s common sense was urging her to refuse. 9-1-1 meant a crime scene, and questions meant involving her. Both those things were screaming for her to stay away. She pushed aside that inner voice. She was too intrigued to refuse. “I’m on my way.”</p>
<p>She shrugged into her wool winter coat as she called John Nickels, Forensic Instincts’ number one on their security team. Then, she blew out the front door, not waiting to fill the FI team in on where she was going. There was no time. Plus, they’d only try to talk her out of it.</p>
<p>Holiday decorations were glistening everywhere, and tiny snowflakes danced in the air.</p>
<p>Casey didn’t notice any of it.</p>
<p>John pulled around a few minutes later, and Casey hopped into the car, gave him the address, and urged him to hurry.</p>
<p>With a brief nod, John was on his way, navigating the FDR Drive in record time. He got Casey to her destination in thirteen minutes. He dropped her off around back, far from the doorman’s view. Then, he waited to return her to the brownstone once her meeting was over, as per her instructions.</p>
<p>Angela was pacing inside the building, and opened the door to let Casey in the moment she saw her. No matter how dire the occasion, Angela always looked stunning. An Armani cobalt blue pants suit that set off her dark skin, matching four-inch Louboutin heels, and long wavy black hair styled at the highest end salon. She carried herself like a queen. In short, she was a knock-out.</p>
<p>Now she looked more rattled than Casey had ever seen her.</p>
<p>“Let’s go,” she said. She led the way to the freight elevator, where she and Casey rode up.</p>
<p>“Tell me what’s going on,” Casey stated flatly.</p>
<p>Angela didn’t answer. She glanced at her Apple Watch, her gaze snapping up as the elevator stopped on the twenty-first floor.</p>
<p>The doors slid open.</p>
<p>Angela paused only long enough to ensure that Casey was right behind her. Then, she strode down the hall, made a turn, and halted in front of Apartment Twenty-One B. She unlocked the door, pulled Casey inside, and faced her to offer the first few words of an explanation.</p>
<p>“This is the home of my client, Christopher Hillington. We had a nine-thirty AM meeting scheduled to be held here.”</p>
<p>Casey’s brows rose. Christopher Hillington was a renowned and phenomenally wealthy managing director of the private equity firm YNE. He was also a major suspect in a vehicular homicide, and Casey knew through various news sources that he’d been questioned several times by the NYPD and was on the verge of arrest.</p>
<p>“I see you know of him,” Angela said. “Given the circumstances, I’m not surprised.” She gestured toward a breathtaking sunken living room. “In here.”</p>
<p>Casey bit back her question about what Angela had just said. She sensed she was about to get her answers. So she remained silent.</p>
<p>The two women stepped down and Angela stood to a side and waited.</p>
<p>Casey got the full view immediately.</p>
<p>Christopher Hillington’s body was crumpled on the Oriental carpet beside his desk, blood pooling out around him. His head was bashed in, clearly having been struck multiple times by a heavy object. The bloodied sledge hammer lying next to the body was obviously the murder weapon. Judging from the damage done, the killer had been, not only determined, but brutal.</p>
<p>Casey eyeballed the scene, feeling sickened as well as confused. She was about to ask Angela what this horrific scene had to do with her when she spotted the letters, written in blood, on the lower edge of the desk, right beside Hillington’s outstretched arm.</p>
<p>She walked over, careful not to touch anything, squatted down, and squinted. The two words were completely legible, and they made Casey’s blood run cold.</p>
<p>Casey Woods.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Excerpt from <i>Struck Dead</i> by Andrea Kane. Copyright 2024 by Andrea Kane. Reproduced with permission from Andrea Kane. All rights reserved.</p>
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<h2>Author Bio:</h2>
<div style="float: right; margin-left: 15px; width: 230px;"><img align="left" alt="Andrea Kane" border="0" height="279" src="https://partnersincrimetours.com/wp-content/uploads/forminator/13997_115b15d08b2c7bb7da2712949e71a2f7/uploads/O4cAq55VIryL-20040907_Kane_199-purple-sofa.jpg" style="float: right; margin-bottom: 5px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 15px; margin-top: 5px; margin: 5px 15px 5px 0px;" width="200" /></div>
<p>Andrea Kane is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of thirty-two novels, including eighteen psychological thrillers and fourteen historical romantic suspense titles. With her signature style, Kane creates unforgettable characters and confronts them with life-threatening danger. As a master of suspense, she weaves them into exciting, carefully-researched stories, pushing them to the edge—and keeping her readers up all night.<br />
Kane’s first contemporary suspense thriller, <em>Run for Your Life</em>, became an instant New York Times bestseller. <br />
She followed with a string of bestselling psychological thrillers including <em>No Way Out</em>, <em>Twisted</em> and <em>Drawn in Blood</em>.<br />
Her latest in the highly successful Forensic Instincts series, <em>Struck Dead</em>, showcases the dynamic, eclectic team of investigators as they hunt down a desperate killer who’s threatened one of their own. The first showcase of Forensic Instincts’ talents came with the New York Times bestseller, <em>The Girl Who Disappeared Twice</em>, followed by <em>The Line Between Here and Gone</em>, <em>The Stranger You Know</em>, <em>The Silence That Speaks</em>, <a href="https://partnersincrimetours.com/the-murder-that-never-was-by-andrea-kane/"><em>The Murder That Never Was</em></a>, <a href="https://partnersincrimetours.com/face-die-andrea-kane/"><em>A Face To Die For</em></a>, <a href="https://partnersincrimetours.com/dead-in-a-week-by-andrea-kane/"><em>Dead In A Week</em></a>, <a href="https://partnersincrimetours.com/no-stone-unturned-by-andrea-kane/"><em>No Stone Unturned</em></a>, <a href="https://partnersincrimetours.com/at-any-cost-by-andrea-kane/"><em>At Any Cost</em></a>, and <a href="https://partnersincrimetours.com/struck-dead-by-andrea-kane/"><em>Struck Dead</em></a>.<br />
Kane’s beloved historical romantic suspense novels include <em>My Heart’s Desire</em>, <em>Samantha</em>, <em>Echoes in the Mist</em>, and <em>Wishes in the Wind</em>.<br />
With a worldwide following of passionate readers, her books have been published in more than twenty languages. <br />
Kane lives in New Jersey with her family. She’s an avid crossword puzzle solver and a diehard Yankees fan.<br />
Author Hometown – Warren, New Jersey</p>
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Debdatta Dasgupta http://www.blogger.com/profile/12575979550597861075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3578371666134702214.post-74808776232653950392024-02-26T23:00:00.001+05:302024-03-06T12:43:32.155+05:30Take Any Chance by Brenna Aubrey<p> </p><div style="margin: 0px auto 15px; text-align: center;">
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<p><strong>Take Any Chance</strong><br /><strong>Brenna Aubrey</strong><br />(Gaming the System, #10)<br />Publication date: April 30th 2024<br />Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance</p><blockquote><p>In the game of life, Mia Drake has leveled up like a pro. Just out of medical school, she’s landed her dream job—a medical residency at a prestigious hospital. She has a beautiful home and an amazing husband. But there’s one more achievement she’s determined to unlock: becoming a mother.</p>
<p>In the business world, Adam Drake is a beast. He can face any threat. Conquer any boardroom. But when Mia issues the challenge to start a family, Adam will have to take up a sword to fight the ultimate boss—<i>his own fear</i>.</p>
<p>The path forward is clear, but are Adam and Mia truly ready to embark on this epic quest?</p>
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/209072107-take-any-chance" target="_blank">Add to Goodreads</a> / <a href="https://amzn.to/3IhJruQ" target="_blank">Pre-order</a></p>
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<p>Author Bio:</p>
<p>Brenna Aubrey is a USA TODAY Bestselling Author of contemporary romance stories that center on geek culture. Her debut novel, At Any Price, is currently free on all platforms. Her books are on over a million e-readers worldwide, have been translated into German, French, Italian and Dutch. They've also been adapted as an interactive app game. Look for the brand new POINT OF NO RETURN series and her extremely popular GAMING THE SYSTEM series.</p>
<p>She has always sought comfort in good books and the long, involved stories she weaves in her head. Brenna is a city girl with a nature-lover’s heart. She therefore finds herself out in green open spaces any chance she can get. She currently resides on the west coast of the US with her husband and children (both human and furry).</p>
<p style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://brennaaubrey.net/" target="_blank">Website</a> / <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5824327.Brenna_Aubrey" target="_blank">Goodreads</a> / <a href="https://www.facebook.com/BrennaAubreyAuthor" target="_blank">Facebook</a> / <a href="https://twitter.com/BrennaAubrey" target="_blank">Twitter</a> / <a href="https://www.instagram.com/brennaaubreyauthor/" target="_blank">Instagram</a> / <a href="https://brennaaubrey.net/newsletter-signup/" target="_blank">Newsletter</a></p>
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<p style="text-align: center;"></p>Debdatta Dasgupta http://www.blogger.com/profile/12575979550597861075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3578371666134702214.post-7651178920940546852024-02-25T00:00:00.001+05:302024-02-25T00:00:00.135+05:30Interview with Frank Spinelli, Author of Angelo Perrotta Mysteries<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.ddsreviews.in/2024/02/frank-spinelli-angela-perrotta-mysteries.html" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="1024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU3r5jeZ6DiOPjmDKIsuQhwhjYw9sbNujdu0MULvUu3WXtGnFFve-pGJoezRF37x2NytSZQSH-MnkI6KRUbD0T8n53pJsM3pKNF5zZ5-_Sjd4umRUCtPGh7r66hyiIJJ7YidWN3y_tRILEW7tBk4WKKv8fBa3BRtSLrl_XPaJaDI9Rws3N_RgggwKjqTA/s16000/Interview%20with%20Frank%20Spinelli.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.ddsreviews.in/2024/02/frank-spinelli-angela-perrotta-mysteries.html" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="933" data-original-width="637" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcTRXlNf0-wnOPjfN59ZU9mSmGd5HfliyTGfho9SzkK3YuqifHVvWTg5WpBk1eSZokearCI5qome-YFq5-ly1zXej7Y1c4Hg4WqCzVOlfDz9G70mNaEc9l6WCGCp1sUMiZ1cIqKFjkmL8Cc0vxQj1mRDwytfXQ9xPZxTiigPYMQeA3OvJ_IVmMwNzW5a8/w136-h200/Frank%20Spinelli.jpg" width="136" /></a></div><h4 style="text-align: left;"><br />Frank Spinelli is an American born physician.</h4><p></p><p>Writing credits include: The Advocate Guide to Gay Men’s Health and Wellness, Pee-Shy: A Memoir, Perfect Flaw: Angelo Perrotta Mysteries Book One and contributing author – Our Naked Lives and Understanding the Sexual Betrayal of Boys and Men.</p><p>Frank lives in New York with his incredibly patient husband and their two dogs. <br /><br /></p><h4 style="text-align: left;">For further information about Frank Spinelli, visit his <b><i><a href="http://www.frankspinelli.com" target="_blank">Website</a> | <a href="http://www.twitter.com/spinellimd" target="_blank">X</a> | <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1116649.Frank_Spinelli" target="_blank">Goodreads</a></i></b></h4><p><br /><br /></p><h1 style="text-align: center;"><u><span style="font-size: x-large;">Interview with Frank Spinelli</span></u></h1><p></p><h3 style="text-align: left;">When did you first realize that you wanted to be a writer/ a storyteller?</h3>I’m not sure if there was a specific moment in my life that made me think I could be a storyteller. In college I made short films. Writing stories for film was probably the first time I realized I wanted to write books. <br /><br /><h3 style="text-align: left;">What inspires you to write?</h3>Since I’m a physician, I’m most inspired by the people I meet every day. Most of all, I’m inspired by science and true crime stories. <br /><br /><h3 style="text-align: left;">How did you come up with the idea for your current story?</h3>I was inspired after reading an article in the New York Times about a behavioral scientist working with veterans suffering from PTSD. His revolutionary approach got me wondering what could happen if used for nefarious purposes. <br /><br /><h3 style="text-align: left;">Are there some stories tucked away in some drawer that was written before and never saw the light of the day?</h3>Yes, absolutely. I have several stories saved on my computer that haven’t seen the light of day. But they will one day.<br /><br /><h3 style="text-align: left;">Tell us about your writing process.</h3>I write every day for at least an hour. For me, writing is like working out. Somedays I hate the idea, but I push myself. Other days, I can’t wait to get right back into it.<br /><br /><h3 style="text-align: left;">Do you read? Who are your favourite authors and how have they influenced your writing style?</h3>I read a lot, but I go through spurts of reading followed by periods of not reading. My favorite authors are Stephen King, Anthony Horowitz, Donna Tartt and Jennifer Egan. The writer that has influenced me the most is Patricia Highsmith. Without a doubt her stories encompass everything I strive for in my own writing. Her books are often about relationships, betrayal and murder. <br /><br /><h3 style="text-align: left;">What is the best piece of advice you have received, as a writer, till date?</h3>The best piece of advice I received is read while you write and read in the genre which you are writing.<br /><br /><h3 style="text-align: left;">What is the best piece of advice you would give to someone that wants to get into writing?</h3>Write only what interests you. Several publishers suggested I write in a genre that didn’t appeal to me. I even forced myself. In the end, I hated what I wrote. So now I only write stories I would want to read.<br /><br /><h3 style="text-align: left;">How do you spend your free time? Do you have a favorite place to go and unwind?</h3>I enjoy taking long walks with my two dogs especially when I’m in the process of writing. It helps me think. The only problem is that I often talk to myself. Fortunately, I’m with my dogs so folks think I’m talking to them. <br /><br /><h3 style="text-align: left;">What do you have in store next for your readers?</h3>Since No Angels Wept is the second book of a three-part series called Angelo Perrotta Mysteries, I’m excited to share the third installment tentatively titled, Precious Friends late next year.<br /><br /><h3 style="text-align: left;">Is there anything else you’d like to share with your readers?</h3>If you read any of my books, please write a review or email me. I love hearing from readers, and trust me, all writers read their reviews. In fact, I find the most critical reviews are the most important.<br /><br /><br /><p></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>About the Book</u></b></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.ddsreviews.in/" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: left;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="522" data-original-width="348" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcLPs01rhYU3VCYUW5mSkX3sD3xQEpXjFmoSwxmmAlRSZCoFPiFH8ccsq8Sc_s9237WUvsQj1weEqSj3kXrlU-9sAnrqSieKdFToIgJ6S-bmSmeJ9I0_xQyYon-weGztDyaxPmaFvEbbyrZpBVvUS8PCiR1P-N9lb4YMez70eDdyNAWQnRaLQaUUAoAJ4/s320/No%20Angels%20Wept.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br />In this arresting second installment of Angelo Perrotta Mysteries, Angelo agrees to appear on the widely controversial satellite radio crime show, A Thorny Mess, to recount his tragic first year in private practice. Shortly after arriving in Los Angeles, he becomes entangled in a string of murders at the hands of the No Angels Wept Killer. An investigation leads him to Doctor Reverend James Jarrett, the spiritual leader of the Seven Spirits Church. A man the LA Times called "effusively charming" and a "psychiatric chameleon." When Angelo's boyfriend, Jason Murphy, joins him in LA, they decide to confront the reverend after learning his congregation is luring unhoused gay youth to their shelter under false pretenses. Then, a shocking discovery uncovers a conspiracy more depraved that either could have imagined.<p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><u>Book Links:</u></b></span><br /></p><h2 style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/199820548-no-angels-wept" target="_blank">Goodreads</a> | <a href="https://amzn.to/3uO6eeI" target="_blank">Amazon IN</a> | <a href="https://amzn.to/49DDAvy" target="_blank">Amazon US</a></h2><p></p><p><br />Angelo Perrotta Mysteries are a series of three MM mystery novels. Perfect Flaw introduces Angelo Perrotta. A young physician who lands a dream job at a posh Park Avenue practice in Manhattan. There he meets Demetre Kostas and becomes entangled in a world of lies, betrayal and murder. The second novel, No Angels Wept, Angelo travels to Los Angeles to appear on a widely popular satellite radio show to recount his tragic first year in private practice only to become part of an investigation into a series of murders perpetrated against gay sex workers by the No Angels Wept Killer.<br /><br /><br /></p>Debdatta Dasgupta http://www.blogger.com/profile/12575979550597861075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3578371666134702214.post-69582057536308612572024-02-23T00:00:00.004+05:302024-02-23T00:00:00.259+05:30A Burden of Ice and Bone by Kyra Whitton<p> </p><div style="margin: 0px auto 15px; text-align: center;">
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<p><strong>A Burden of Ice and Bone</strong><br /><strong>Kyra Whitton</strong><br />Publication date: April 16th 2024<br />Genres: Adult, Fantasy</p><blockquote><p>A tale of courage, love, and self-discovery in a frozen kingdom, perfect for fans of Spinning Silver by Naomi Novik.</p>
<p>Everything Dira Cloon loves, and all she has ever learned in her village of ice and darkness, depends upon her pulling the trigger. But something about the white bear shakes her aim. It’s stronger than her love for her family who believe the only safe polar bear is a dead one. It’s deeper than the village legends of a lost world, a vanished civilization, and the whispered magic of an ursine king. It’s more broken, more alone, than Dira’s own heart. If she pulls the trigger, the life she knows will take her back, the cost a piece of herself and her dreams. But if she puts down the gun and follows the bear into a vast, frozen kingdom of snow, she may change her people and their lust for blood. And for herself, find a cursed life more beautiful than the one she leaves behind.</p>
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<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/63346759-a-burden-of-ice-and-bone" target="_blank">Add to Goodreads</a> / <a href="https://amzn.to/49EbsbR" target="_blank">Pre-order</a></p>
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<p>Author Bio:</p>
<p>Kyra's been a hopeless romantic since she was three years old and obsessed with Disney's Sleeping Beauty. She read her first romance novel at eleven and was determined to write one of her own as soon as she put it down. It took another ten years for her to actually finish one, and another ten to see the first, INTO THE OTHERWORLD (2018, The Wild Rose Press), published. </p>
<p>A native of Atlanta, GA, Kyra graduated with her Bachelor of Science degree in History, Technology, and Society from the Georgia Institute of Technology before taking up a position as a university administrator and completing a master's degree in American Studies with a minor concentration in Creative Writing. But then the real fun began as she joined her husband, a US Army officer, on a journey across the country. Together, they found themselves living in Washington state, Kansas, Virginia, and Kentucky, as well as apart when duty called. She currently resides on Fort Stewart with her husband, their 4 kids, and 2 basset hounds, Eugene Fitzherbert and Flynnigan Ryder. </p>
<p>When she isn't writing, Kyra loves to bake, watch Ga Tech football, travel, visit Walt Disney World, and research duty stations. But most of all, Kyra loves nothing more than an adventure and is always looking forward to the next one, whether in person or on paper.</p>
<p style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.kyrawhitton.com/" target="_blank">Website</a> / <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/18250948.Kyra_Whitton" target="_blank">Goodreads</a> / <a href="https://www.facebook.com/knwhittonbooks" target="_blank">Facebook</a> / <a href="https://twitter.com/knwhitton" target="_blank">Twitter</a> / <a href="https://www.instagram.com/knwhittonbooks" target="_blank">Instagram</a></p>
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<p style="text-align: center;"></p>Debdatta Dasgupta http://www.blogger.com/profile/12575979550597861075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3578371666134702214.post-51196742704478884502024-02-22T00:00:00.010+05:302024-02-22T11:14:46.540+05:30Read an #Excerpt from The Secret of Sweet Treats Kingdom by Kim Davis<p> </p><div style="margin: 0px auto 15px; text-align: center;">
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<p><strong>The Secret of Sweet Treats Kingdom</strong><br /><strong>Kim Davis</strong><br />(The Board Game Chronicles, #1)<br />Publication date: January 30th 2024<br />Genres: Adventure, Fantasy, Middle-Grade</p><blockquote><p><strong>Book includes a fun recipe for kids!</strong></p>
<p>Amber Addison is fed up with her kindergartener sister. It’s Ava’s fault she’s missing her best friend’s birthday party, the most anticipated event in their sixth-grade class. To make matters worse, Ava has coerced her into playing Sweet Treats board game and she keeps losing to a five-year-old. When Amber’s irritation gets the best of her, she throws the game, destroying it.</p>
<p>As the board disintegrates, the two girls are swept into a swirling vortex and they find themselves in the middle of Sweet Treats kingdom. Ava is kidnapped by an evil queen, and Amber finds herself relying on a mint-green rabbit to help her find her way to Bonbon Castle with the hope of finding her sister. Along the way, she encounters more sweets than she could ever eat along with fantastical beings. Some will become her friend and others create danger that she must survive in order to save her sister and find their way home.</p>
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<p style="font-size: 130%; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/205573804-the-secret-of-sweet-treats-kingdom" target="_blank">Goodreads</a> / <a href="https://amzn.to/3uNJzPE" target="_blank">Amazon</a> / <a href="https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-secret-of-the-sweet-treats-kingdom-kim-davis/1144754807" target="_blank">Barnes & Noble</a> / <a href="https://books.apple.com/hu/book/the-secret-of-sweet-treats-kingdom/id6476235634" target="_blank">iBooks</a> / <a href="https://www.kobo.com/ca/en/ebook/the-secret-of-sweet-treats-kingdom" target="_blank">Kobo</a></p>
<p style="text-align: center;">—</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><strong>EXCERPT:</strong></p>
<p>A rumbling sound filled my ears and the ground started tilting and rolling. The light hanging over the dining room table began swaying and the wood mini-blinds rubbing against the windows sounded like fingernails on a chalkboard.</p>
<p>“Amber?” Ava grabbed my hand and held on tight.</p>
<p>“Don’t worry. It’s just an earthquake.” Growing up in Southern California you got used to this kind of thing. “Remember what they taught you at school? Drop, cover, and hold on?”</p>
<p>I pulled her toward the dining room table to hide beneath it, although I was positive by the time we got into position the quake would be over.</p>
<p>We were ten steps away from the table when Ava stopped walking. She yanked my arm and started pulling me backward, toward the family room. I heard the crash of glass breaking on the kitchen tile and was glad I had flip-flops on. Our family portrait fell from the dining room wall, the glass splintering from the black frame sent shards of glass flying across the room. A small piece caught my ankle, sending a sting up my leg.</p>
<p>“Knock it off, shrimp. We need to get under the table right now!” While I had been in several earthquakes, this felt different. It wasn’t slowing or stopping, like I thought it would. I didn’t want to admit it, but I was scared. Could this be the “big one” grownups talked about?</p>
<p>Instead of letting me lead her toward the dining table, Ava began pulling me harder toward the family room. With my feet sliding on the slick tile, I couldn’t stop.</p>
<p>“What’s that?” I had never heard my sister screech like that before, so I turned around to see what she was talking about.</p>
<p>The small fragments of the Sweet Treats board game were hovering in midair, swirling in a circle, going faster and faster. The floor tilted us toward the flying pieces, and we were slipping toward the growing whirlwind. The edge of the vortex was expanding outward at a rapid rate, while the center was a dark, black hole. It looked like a giant vacuum hose, and it was sucking us toward it.</p>
<p>My terrified sister started screaming, clinging to my legs. “Do something, Amber!”</p>
<p>I started shrieking as I tripped over Ava, and we were pulled head first into the middle of the vortex.</p>
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<p>Author Bio:</p>
<p>Kim Davis lives in Southern California with her husband and mini Goldendoodle puppy, Missy. When she's not spending time with her granddaughters or chasing the puppy around, she can be found either writing on her next book, or working on her blog, Cinnamon, Sugar, and a Little Bit of Murder, or in the kitchen baking up yummy treats to share.</p>
<p>She also writes the Cupcake Catering cozy mystery series, the Aromatherapy Apothecary Mystery series, The Board Game Chronicles middle grade series, and a suspense novel, A Game of Deceit, written under K. A. Davis, along with several children’s nature articles in a variety of magazines.</p>
<p>Kim Davis is a member of Sisters in Crime, Mystery Writers of America, and Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators.</p>
<p style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://kimdavisauthor.com/" target="_blank">Website</a> / <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/20202599.Kim_Davis" target="_blank">Goodreads</a> / <a href="https://www.facebook.com/KimDavisAuthor" target="_blank">Facebook</a> / <a href="https://twitter.com/Kookiesandbooks" target="_blank">Twitter</a> / <a href="https://www.instagram.com/kimdavishb/" target="_blank">Instagram</a> / <a href="https://www.bookbub.com/profile/kim-davis-899e51b0-5661-401c-98b1-ec4c2973d58a" target="_blank">Bookbub</a></p>
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<p style="text-align: center;"></p>Debdatta Dasgupta http://www.blogger.com/profile/12575979550597861075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3578371666134702214.post-48674425434772624902024-02-19T00:00:00.006+05:302024-02-19T00:00:00.125+05:30Read an Excerpt from Black & White by Justin M. Kiska<p> </p><div style="text-align: center;">
<h2><i>Black & White</i></h2>
<h3>by Justin M. Kiska</h3>
<h4>February 19 - March 15, 2024 Virtual Book Tour</h4>
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<h2>Synopsis:</h2>
<div style="float: left;width:225px;margin-right: 15px;"><img src="https://partnersincrimetours.com/wp-content/uploads/forminator/13997_115b15d08b2c7bb7da2712949e71a2f7/uploads/GRZdprSnqSuD-BW-Cover.jpg" alt="Black & White by Justin M. Kiska" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 15px; margin-top: 5px; margin-bottom: 5px; float: left;" width="200" height="300" border="0"></div>
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<p><strong>Parker City, 1985 . . .</strong></p>
<p>A picturesque spring morning takes a disturbing turn when the frozen body of a young woman is discovered in a field on the outskirts of the city. As Detectives Ben Winters and Tommy Mason arrive on the scene, they have no idea upon what type of an investigation they are about to embark. With no identification, no breadcrumbs to lead them to the girl’s origins, or even a cause of death, they face a daunting task ahead as they take on their latest case.</p>
<p>As the investigation lingers in limbo, a surprise revelation connects it to a mysterious chapter from Parker City’s past. One that Tommy's own uncle was a part of four decades early as a debonair private investigator working for the venerable Stride Detective Agency, tenaciously searching for the missing daughter of a former diplomat. It's a connection that binds two generations of detectives in an intricate web of intrigue.</p><h5>In this captivating new installment of Parker City Mysteries, both investigations unravel simultaneously, forging an unbreakable link between the past and the present. As Ben and Tommy navigate their way through the case, they must confront the truth to a secret that has remained concealed for far too long.</h5>
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<h3>Book Details:</h3>
<p><b>Genre:</b> Police Procedural<br />
<b>Published by:</b> Level Best Books<br />
<b>Publication Date:</b> February 2024<br />
<b>Number of Pages:</b> 300<br />
<b>ISBN:</b> Coming Soon!<br />
<b>Series:</b> <a href="https://pictbooks.tours/MMlBh" rel="noopener" target="_blank">Parker City Mysteries</a>, Book 4<br />
<b>Book Links:</b> <a href="https://pictbooks.tours/8YHc7" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Amazon</a> | <a href="https://pictbooks.tours/zmZyj" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Goodreads</a></p>
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<h3>Read an excerpt:</h3>
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<p>Stepping out of the car, the weather was so nice, Ben left his suit jacket laying on the backseat where he’d tossed it before leaving the station. But, as he always did when he was about to enter a new crime scene, he placed his hand on the Smith & Wesson on his hip. The weight of the cool metal helped to center him so he could focus on whatever he was about to be confronted by. It reminded him how important his work was and the duty he believed so much in. It was thinking like that that earned Ben a reputation of being a Boy Scout. An idealist who truly wanted to protect and defend the people of Parker City. He always wondered how some people could make that sound like a bad thing. </p>
<p>Some of the older members of the department liked to live in a gray area of the law, while Ben tried his very best to always do what was right. It’s when what was right fell into those gray areas that Ben needed to rely on his partner to help make sense of what needed to be done.</p>
<p>Trying to imagine what they’d been called out for he knew no two crime scenes were ever the same. Sure, elements could be similar. There was always a tragedy overshadowing them, but each was unique. Which is why Ben walked into each with a completely open mind and a keen pair of eyes trying to take in every single detail. It was always the details that cracked a case. Which meant one never knew how important the smallest piece of evidence could really be. If something was out of place, it was important until it wasn’t. That’s how he thought. And sometimes-and this was often the more confusing part-the absence of something was just as important. If not more. </p>
<p>“Not putting your jacket on?” The voice of Ben’s partner, Tommy Mason, came from the other side of the car. “I didn’t realize this was a casual crime scene.” </p>
<p>Ben raised an eyebrow and shook his head.</p>
<p>The two were always picking on one another. It’s what they did. It’s what made their friendship so strong. When it came to what to wear as police detectives, there was a continuing debate between the two. Ben felt a suit and tie was most appropriate. Not only did it look more professional and attract a certain level of respect but, with his clean-cut babyface, it helped him look a little older than his thirty years. Though not much. Tommy, on the other hand, saw nothing wrong with wearing jeans and a T-shirt under a leather jacket. While he looked like a cop on one of the popular crime shows on television, Ben always pointed out that that was Hollywood’s version of a police detective. Since Ben technically was his supervisor and commanding officer, Tommy begrudgingly put a tie on every morning. Most days though, he usually left it loose with his collar wide open. Ben still took it as a victory.</p>
<p>Blowing a cloud of smoke into the air, Tommy dropped what little remained of his cigarette on the ground and stamped it out before taking his corduroy jacket off and tossing it back into the car. If Ben didn’t have to wear his jacket at the crime scene, he sure as hell wasn’t going to wear one.</p>
<p>“Doesn’t this feel much less constricting,” he asked with a grin. “And it’s so much easier to get to our guns in the event we’re in danger.”</p>
<p>“Shut up,” Ben said as he started toward the cluster of men in the field.</p>
<p>“I’m just saying. If your life was in danger, it would be so much easier for me to shoot someone to save you–which you know I would do–if I didn’t have to worry about my jacket getting in the way. Those few precious seconds could save your life one day. Natalie would agree.”</p>
<p>Stopping and turning to look at his partner a few steps behind him, Ben asked, “Why exactly do you think it would have to be <em>you</em> saving <em>me</em> and not the other way around?” </p>
<p>“Because that’s just the way it is,” Tommy answered very matter-of-factly. “Think about how many times I’ve saved your life?”</p>
<p>Ben’s forehead wrinkled, a puzzled expression appearing on his face. “What the hell are you talking about? I’m the one that saved <em>you</em> at least two times that I can think of in the last year alone.”</p>
<p>“Clearly we remember things very differently.”</p>
<p>“You’re a pain in my ass. You know that, right?”</p>
<p>Smiling the thousand watt smile for which he was known, Tommy answered, “I like to think that I keep you grounded.”</p>
<p>So was the way of Detectives Ben Winters and Tommy Mason. More often than not, they sounded like an old married couple bickering about one thing or another. Completely devoted to one another, they were closer than brothers. They’d grown up together, gone to school together, joined the academy together, and when the order was given for a new Detective Squad to be created within the Parker City Police Department, they were tapped for the job. </p>
<p>As it was, for the last four years, they were the <em>only</em> two members of the department’s official criminal investigation team. Though Parker City was by no means a hotbed of criminal activity, they’d been involved in several major investigations which rocked the city. Two of which even attracted the national spotlight, making the pair famous for a few minutes. Most police officers could go their entire careers without being involved in the types of cases which had kept them up at night, but the two young men had earned their detective shields through trial by fire.</p>
<p>Catching his foot in a clump of thick weeds, Ben knew if he tripped and landed in the dirt, Tommy would never let him hear the end of it. Thankfully, he was able to quickly regain his balance and keep himself upright.</p>
<p>His hope that Tommy didn’t see the awkward contortion the lower half of his body performed to avoid hitting the ground was dashed when from behind him he heard the sarcasm-laced comment, “As graceful as a gazelle.” Which was then followed almost immediately by the unmistakable sound of something hitting the dirt. Hard.</p>
<p>“Sonofa…”</p>
<p>Ben turned in just enough time to see Tommy jumping to his feet and dusting off his pants.</p>
<p>“Not a single word,” Tommy admonished, vigorously shaking his head. “I’m well aware Karma’s a bitch.”</p>
<p>Deciding to take the highroad, Ben valiantly stifled the laugh fighting to burst free.</p>
<p>“You’ve got a little bit of something there on your…” Ben started, pointing to his partner’s pant leg.</p>
<p>“Shut it!” Tommy said. At which point Ben couldn’t contain himself. The laughter won and overpowered him. </p>
<p>As the two detectives reached the other men standing in the field, they recognized one of the patrolmen as a new officer who’d just recently joined the department and the other was one of Tommy’s least favorite people on the planet, Buck LuCoco. An overweight, lazy throw-back to the days when the police in the city did as little as they needed to. Neither Ben nor Tommy understood how he was still on the force. Or why he wanted to be with his attitude.</p>
<p>“LuCoco, Brown,” Ben said giving the uniformed officers each a quick nod of his head.</p>
<p>“How is it, Buck,” Tommy began, “whenever a body drops in this town, you’re the first man on the scene?”</p>
<p>“Just lucky, I guess,” LuCoco said, mopping his sweaty brow with a wrinkled handkerchief from his pocket. “It could also be that the scumbags in this city do their dirty work at night and since I’m the first one outta the door in the morning, I get the call. Either way, it’s crap. I tell ya!”</p>
<p>“Being that it’s after lunchtime already–,” Tommy began to say before Ben placed a hand on his arm, giving him the signal to let it go.</p>
<p>Then, turning to the younger officer who appeared quite eager to give his report to the department’s chief detective, Ben asked, “What have we got?” </p>
<p>“This is Sam Ruppert,” Brown introduced the man, referring to his notebook. “He’s one of the city’s engineers. He was doing some routine work out here this morning when he found the body of a young female. D.O.A.”</p>
<p>Turning to Ruppert, a tall, beefy guy in a flannel shirt, jeans, and work boots, Ben took his own notebook from his shirt pocket. “Morning, Mr. Ruppert. I’m Detective Ben Winters. You’re with the city?”</p>
<p>“Public Works Department,” he said in a gravelly voice. “Almost fifteen years now.”</p>
<p>“What brought you out here today?”</p>
<p>“The city’s getting ready to do some work in this field and I needed to take a few quick measurements. We’ve been out here every day for the last week. I thought I’d be here and gone in a few minutes. Then I found…” His voice trailed off as he looked away toward something another twenty or so feet away.</p>
<p>“What did you find?”</p>
<p>“A body. She wasn’t there yesterday. I know that for a fact because I was here all day with a couple other guys. We were all over this place. We’d have seen her for sure.”</p>
<p>Pointing at the mound the engineer was staring at, Tommy asked, “Is that the body?”</p>
<p>“Uh-huh.”</p>
<p>“Did one of you cover her up or did you find her like that?” Ben asked, referring to the tattered, green checked blanket.</p>
<p>“She was like that,” Ruppert said taking a deep breath. “At first, I thought it was someone in a sleeping bag or something. Thought maybe they’d slept out here last night. Sky was clear. They could see the stars. But when I got close and hollered, there was no… She didn’t move. When I got up close I saw... Geez. I’ve never seen anything like it. This isn’t how I thought my day was gonna go.”</p>
<p>Other than the occasional funeral, it was true, the average person didn’t have much exposure to dead bodies. But there was something in the way the man was acting that made Ben think there was more to the story. He was too shaken up. If one could be too shaken up after finding a dead body on the job. </p>
<p>“What is it you’ve never seen before?” Ben inquired, interested to hear the conclusion to Ruppert’s story. </p>
<p>“Oh, I think you should just see for yourself, Detective” LuCoco said interrupting, a twisted smirk on his fat face.</p>
<p>“What is it, LuCoco? Just tell us.” Tommy had no patience for the man. There was a time he used to hide his contempt, now he didn’t even try. Not that LuCoco was very observant. Or he just didn’t give a damn.</p>
<p>“Sirs,” Officer Brown interrupted, “let me show you.”</p>
<p>Walking the group over to the covered body, Brown knelt down and, using a handkerchief he’d had in his pocket, pulled the blanket back revealing the naked body of a beautiful young woman with dark wavey hair. But something wasn’t right. Not that the naked body of a woman in the middle of a field was right. But in this instance, it was her skin.</p>
<p>“What the hell?” Tommy’s reaction matched what Ben was thinking. “She’s blue.”</p>
<p>Blue wasn’t entirely accurate, but it was pretty close. The skin was a pale hue, almost white. And there was a frosty sheen to it, with small ice crystals visible around her eyes and mouth. Little droplets glistened on her eyelashes.</p>
<p>“She’s frozen,” Brown said, looking up at the detectives. </p>
<p>“It was cool last night,” Tommy said, kneeling down himself to get a better look, “but not cold enough to freeze to death.”</p>
<p>“No. I mean, she’s frozen like a block of ice.”</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Excerpt from <i>Black & White</i> by Justin M. Kiska. Copyright 2024 by Justin M. Kiska. Reproduced with permission from Justin M. Kiska. All rights reserved.</p>
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<h2>Author Bio:</h2>
<div style="float: right;width:230px;margin-left: 15px;"><img src="https://partnersincrimetours.com/wp-content/uploads/forminator/13997_115b15d08b2c7bb7da2712949e71a2f7/uploads/jnYpEcjWh8sx-KiskaJustin.jpg" alt="Justin M. Kiska" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 15px; margin-top: 5px; margin-bottom: 5px; float: right;" width="200" height="280" border="0" align="left"></div>
<p>When not sitting in his library devising new and clever ways to kill people (for his mysteries), Justin can usually be found at The Way Off Broadway Dinner Theatre, outside of Washington, DC, where he is one of the owners and producers. In addition to writing the Parker City Mysteries Series, which includes <strong><em>Now & Then</em></strong> (Finalist for the 2022 Silver Falchion Award for Best Investigator), <a href="https://partnersincrimetours.com/vice-virtue-by-justin-m-kiska/"><strong><em>Vice & Virtue</em></strong></a>, and <a href="https://partnersincrimetours.com/fact-fiction-by-justin-m-kiska/"><strong><em>Fact & Fiction</em></strong></a>, he is also the mastermind behind <strong><em>Marquee Mysteries</em></strong>, a series of interactive mystery events he has been writing and producing for over fifteen years. Justin and his wife, Jessica, live along Lake Linganore outside of Frederick, Maryland.</p>
<h3>Catch Up With Justin M. Kiska:<br />
<a href="https://bit.ly/46OTkKJ" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">JustinKiska.com</a><br />
<a href="https://bit.ly/46E8XnY" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Goodreads</a><br />
<a href="https://bit.ly/3SVg1tf" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">BookBub - @JMKiska</a><br />
<a href="https://bit.ly/40XHAUC" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Instagram - @JMKiska</a><br />
<a href="https://bit.ly/3GoqPZa" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Twitter/X - @JustinKiska</a><br />
<a href="https://bit.ly/30ZpvuY" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Facebook - @JMKiska</a></h3>
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Debdatta Dasgupta http://www.blogger.com/profile/12575979550597861075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3578371666134702214.post-87976741913072498032024-02-15T00:00:00.011+05:302024-02-19T13:36:20.636+05:30Read an Excerpt from False Haven by Rebecca Rook<p> </p><div style="margin: 0px auto 15px; text-align: center;">
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<p><strong>False Haven</strong><br /><strong>Rebecca Rook</strong><br />Publication date: February 13th 2024<br />Genres: Horror, Young Adult</p><blockquote><p><strong><em>False Haven</em> is a young adult horror novel for fans of <em>Anna Dressed in Blood</em> by Kendare Blake, <em>Asylum</em> by Madeleine Roux, and <em>Fiendish</em> by Brenna Yovanoff.</strong></p>
<p>Seventeen-year-old Vivienne Barston’s life has fallen apart.</p>
<p>With her mother recently dead, her father disappears into his grief – leaving Viv to deal with her sadness and anger alone. Viv turns to destructive behaviors like petty vandalism, but after a disturbing stint in a juvenile detention center frightens her, Viv agrees to a court mandated service opportunity designed to expunge her record. The deal: work for six weeks with a trail conservation crew in the rural woods of southern Oregon, and she’ll be free with a clean slate.</p>
<p>She knows it’s her last chance to fix her life.</p>
<p>When Viv arrives at the small town of Hard Luck, Oregon, she meets her motley crewmates, all with troubles of their own. The unusual group travels to Grafton Stake, a remote and derelict former asylum with a haunted history–and now Viv must face the ghosts of the past while fighting for her future.</p>
<p><strong>Don’t miss this inventive horror novel where <em>Holes</em> meets <em>The Haunting of Hill House</em>!</strong></p>
</blockquote>
<p style="font-size: 130%; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/202341235-false-haven" target="_blank">Goodreads</a> / <a href="https://amzn.to/3SRI0JI" target="_blank">Amazon</a></p>
<p style="text-align: center;">—</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><strong>EXCERPT:</strong></p>
<p class="styledelementstyleddiv-sc-2e063k-0"><br /></p><p class="styledelementstyleddiv-sc-2e063k-0">“Morgan! She’s here, oh my god, she’s here.” Cat tried to push past Viv.</p><p class="styledelementstyleddiv-sc-2e063k-0">Viv flung up an arm to bar Cat’s movement. “Stop,” Viv hissed through gritted teeth. “Look.” Cat stopped. She saw. And fell back, almost behind Viv.</p><p class="styledelementstyleddiv-sc-2e063k-0">“Oh my god,” Viv heard the other girl whimper from behind her.</p><p class="styledelementstyleddiv-sc-2e063k-0">But she couldn’t take her eyes off the scene before her.</p><p class="styledelementstyleddiv-sc-2e063k-0">Morgan stood several feet away, near the center of the graveyard. Dressed in a white gown that gleamed like bone in the twilight, Viv saw that the garment was old-fashioned, with flounces at the hem and on the chest. The hem trailed in the wet grass at Morgan’s feet. Long sleeves covered her arms, and Morgan’s long hair draped down her gown and around her body like ropes, the ends of her hair coated in a sticky fluid. Viv’s eyes trailed over the gown. Red stains, etched in symbols that resembled keys, were traced across the fabric. Morgan’s hands were coated in red, and Viv realized, in a distant corner of her mind, that the red was blood.</p><p class="styledelementstyleddiv-sc-2e063k-0">More blood dripped from her scalp, a gory crown that haloed her white face and wide eyes. Her lips were stained red, and more fluid dribbled from her mouth as Morgan’s face stretched into the familiar too wide, grotesque grin. Feathers, blue and black and red, rested on the ground at Morgan’s feet, also stained with blood.</p><p class="styledelementstyleddiv-sc-2e063k-0">Morgan turned from the sky and focused on Viv. The grin grew wider. “Hello.” The high, thin, childish voice was back.</p><p class="styledelementstyleddiv-sc-2e063k-0">“Have you come to join us?”</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.ddsreviews.in/"><img alt="" src="https://www.xpressobooktours.com/wp-content/uploads/sites/3/2024/02/False-Haven-Tropes-and-Themes.png" style="height: auto; max-width: 100%;" /></a></p>
<p><br class="blank" /></p>
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<p>Author Bio:</p>
<p>Rebecca Rook designs tabletop games, manages a little free library dedicated to sequential art and comics, and lives in the Pacific Northwest with two wonderful dogs. She writes young adult fiction in the fantasy, thriller, and horror genres.</p>
<p>A 2021-2022 Hugo House Fellow in<br />
Seattle, WA, she also attended the 2021 Tin House YA Fiction Workshop in<br />
Portland, OR. Rebecca was selected as one of the 100 invited writers to participate in the Write Team Mentorship Program’s curated Pitch-a-Thon event before being chosen as a Mentee for the 2021 Program. Prior to this, she completed the wonderful Yearlong Workshop for Young Adult and Middle Grade Fiction at Hugo House.</p>
<p style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.byrebeccarook.com/" target="_blank">Website</a> / <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/45848659.Rebecca_Rook" target="_blank">Goodreads</a> / <a href="https://www.instagram.com/byrebeccarook" target="_blank">Instagram</a> / <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@byrebeccarook" target="_blank">TikTok</a></p>
</blockquote>
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<p style="text-align: center;"></p>Debdatta Dasgupta http://www.blogger.com/profile/12575979550597861075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3578371666134702214.post-87833741919549553322024-02-12T00:00:00.010+05:302024-02-12T00:00:00.135+05:30Read an Excerpt from The Mark of the Salamander by Justin Newland<p> </p><div style="text-align: center;">
<h2><i>The Mark of the Salamander</i></h2>
<h3>by Justin Newland</h3>
<h4>February 12-23, 2024 Virtual Book Tour</h4>
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<h2>Synopsis:</h2>
<div style="float: left; margin-right: 15px; width: 225px;"><img alt="The Mark of the Salamander by Justin Newland" border="0" height="314" src="https://partnersincrimetours.com/wp-content/uploads/forminator/13997_115b15d08b2c7bb7da2712949e71a2f7/uploads/MQSWOQWiuA8L-The-Mark-of-the-Salamander-by-Justin-Newland-Front-Cover-scaled.jpg" style="float: left; margin-bottom: 5px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 15px; margin-top: 5px; margin: 5px 15px 5px 0px;" width="200" /></div>
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<p>1575.</p>
<p>Nelan Michaels is a young Flemish man fleeing religious persecution in the Spanish Netherlands. Settling in Mortlake outside London, he studies under Queen Elizabeth’s court astrologer, conjuring a bright future – until he’s wrongly accused of murder. </p>
<p>Forced into the life of a fugitive, Nelan hides in London, before he is dramatically pressed into the crew of the Golden Hind.</p>
<p>Thrust into a strange new world on board Francis Drake’s vessel, Nelan sails the seas on a voyage to discover discovery itself. Encountering mutiny, ancient tribes and hordes of treasure, Nelan must explore and master his own mystical powers – including the Mark of the Salamander, the mysterious spirit of fire. </p>
<h4><i>THE MARK OF THE SALAMANDER</i> is the first in The Island of Angels series: a two-book saga that tells the epic story and secret history of England’s coming of age during the Elizabethan era.</h4>
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<h3>Book Details:</h3>
<p><b>Genre:</b> Historical Fiction / Magical Realism<br />
<b>Published by:</b> Book Guild<br />
<b>Publication Date:</b> September 28, 2023 <br />
<b>Number of Pages:</b> 256 <br />
<b>ISBN:</b> 9781915853271 (ISBN10: 1915853273)<br />
<b>Series:</b> The Island of Angels, 1 of 2 <br />
<b>Book Links:</b> <a href="https://pictbooks.tours/8iu1b" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Amazon</a> | <a href="https://pictbooks.tours/c8hBK" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Barnes & Noble</a> | <a href="https://pictbooks.tours/rLqM8" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Kobo</a> | <a href="https://pictbooks.tours/12ali" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Goodreads</a> </p>
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<h3>Read an excerpt:</h3>
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<h4>Chapter 19</h4><h3>Home at Last</h3>
<h6>26th September 1580</h6>
<p>It was midway through the afternoon watch. On a Monday. It wasn’t any old Monday. It was a special Monday. Not because of an extra beer ration; nor because of the smell of fish emanating from the galley. No – it was because, on that autumn day, nearly all fifty-eight surviving crew members hung over the gunwale, their eyes dripping with expectation and glued to the horizon. On occasion, they glanced up at the topmast and the barrel man as if waiting for a message from the heavens. None came, even after they’d passed the Isles of Scilly. Nor did it come after they passed Wolf Rock. It surely wouldn’t be long in coming.</p>
<p>As the creaking of the sails ceased, the <em>Golden Hind</em> glided serenely through the waters as if drawn forward by a divine wind. Even the gulls stopped squawking. A light rain shower washed the decks. The men gazed at the white flecks on the waves.</p>
<p>Amidst the quiet, a cry went out, and travelled down the mizzenmast, across the poop deck and into the soul of each crew member. “Land ho!”</p>
<p>Nelan stood next to Fletcher, who raised his hands like an Old Testament prophet and cried out, “Oh, my God!” Then he knelt on the deck, hands clasped in a prayer of thanksgiving.</p>
<p>The other hands – all long-haired, heavily bearded, and stinking of piss, ale and perspiration – planted their knees on the deck. To Nelan, that moment felt portentous. It was one of collective bliss in which men of all ranks, natures and ages shared a sublime experience and encountered, perhaps for a few seconds only, the most concentrated religious feeling in the world: that of belonging to each other and to a land. Perhaps they didn’t know it fully, then. Maybe they had an inkling of it, as Nelan did. But at that moment, each of them knew that, through their voyage, their endeavours and their courage, they had unchained the shackles of the past, cut most of the remaining threads of the Gordian Knot of papal suppression, summoned the fresh, clean winds of the future, and set the people of England on a course towards the discovery of themselves and towards an exploration of the world and its peoples.</p>
<p>As the familiar jagged promontory of the Lizard hove into view, the hardy souls who’d survived unimaginable hardships together were stunned to silence. For once, their tongues stopped wagging. Where before they had been vocal in their japes and musical in their jaunts, now they were mute, stilled by the awe and wonder of seeing the distant contours of their land, their England, appear on the horizon. Their journey neared its end. They knew that another would begin as surely as God gave them the grace of another breath. They had not seen this land’s green pastures and gentle slopes for over a thousand days; 1,018, the pilot told them. England. Home at last. They would greet friends they had not seen for two years and ten months. See children who’d grown from suckling babe to infant. Meet mothers who’d given birth in the interim. Comfort wives grown old from the worry, and embrace daughters who’d married during their long absence. They’d clasp hands with their brothers, fathers and sons, and hold them close. Such were the anticipated joys of homecoming. Since they’d set out twice from old Plymouth – once when storms had forced them to return to safe harbour, and later when they’d finally embarked on that fateful day in December 1577 – this was a second coming.</p>
<p>Nelan swallowed hard. He licked his parched lips. While he didn’t expect anyone to meet him on the quay, he remained as excited as the native-born mariners to see old England. She was his home now. She had been a haven for Protestants from all over Europe fleeing the cruel persecution of the Inquisition. He couldn’t go back to Sangatte or Leiden. The angels of the island coursed through his blood and enriched his soul. He belonged to them, and they belonged in him.</p>
<p>From within him there arose a poem of persuasion, a song of softness, a dance of deliberation.</p>
<p>One question hovered on the lips of the crew. But none dared speak it aloud. Not Nelan, and, for once, not even Tom. But it demanded to be asked. The answer would decide their fate; particularly that of the officers and gentlemen and, most of all, of the admiral. He had to be the one to ask it.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Excerpt from <i>The Mark of the Salamander</i> by Justin Newland. Copyright 2023 by Justin Newland. Reproduced with permission from Justin Newland. All rights reserved.</p>
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<h2>Author Bio:</h2>
<div style="float: right; margin-left: 15px; width: 230px;"><img align="left" alt="Justin Newland" border="0" height="237" src="https://partnersincrimetours.com/wp-content/uploads/forminator/13997_115b15d08b2c7bb7da2712949e71a2f7/uploads/TVQsgjycXYYz-J21A8882-scaled.jpg" style="float: right; margin-bottom: 5px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 15px; margin-top: 5px; margin: 5px 15px 5px 0px;" width="200" /></div>
<p>JUSTIN NEWLAND’s novels represent an innovative blend of genres from historical adventure to supernatural thriller and magical realism. His stories explore the themes of war and religion, and speculate on the human’s spiritual place in the universe.
Undeterred by the award of a Doctorate in Mathematics from Imperial College, London, he conceived his debut novel, <em>The Genes of Isis</em> (Matador, 2018), an epic fantasy set under Ancient Egyptian skies.
</p><li>The historical thriller, <em>The Old Dragon’s Head</em> (Matador, 2018), is set in Ming Dynasty China in the shadows of the Great Wall. </li>
<li><em>The Coronation</em> (Matador, 2019) was another historical adventure and speculates on the genesis of the most important event in the modern world – the Industrial Revolution.</li>
<li><em>The Abdication</em> (Matador, 2021) is a mystery thriller in which a young woman confronts her faith in a higher purpose and what it means to abdicate that faith.</li>
<li><em>The Mark of the Salamander</em> (Book Guild, 2023) is the first in a two-book series, The Island of Angels. Set in the Elizabethan era, it’s an epic tale of England’s coming of age.</li>
His work in progress is the second in the series, <em>The Midnight of Eights</em>, the charting of the uncanny coincidences that led to the repulse of the Spanish Armada.
Author, speaker and broadcaster, Justin appears on LitFest panels, gives talks to historical associations and libraries and enjoys giving radio interviews and making podcasts.
Born three days before the end of 1953, he lives with his partner in plain sight of the Mendip Hills in Somerset, England.<p></p>
<h3>Catch Up With Our Author:<br />
<a href="https://pictbooks.review/gRD8Birf" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">www.JustinNewland.com</a><br />
<a href="https://pictbooks.tours/GbOGm" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Goodreads</a><br />
<a href="https://pictbooks.tours/DYtsT" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">BookBub - @justinnewland</a><br />
<a href="https://pictbooks.tours/SiUze" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Instagram - @drjustinnewland</a><br />
<a href="https://pictbooks.tours/8WV7m" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Twitter/X - @JustinNewland53</a><br />
<a href="https://pictbooks.tours/nqnCr" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Facebook - @justin.newland.author</a><br />
<a href="https://pictbooks.tours/nesgg" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Pinterest - @jnewland0711</a></h3>
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<h2>Tour Participants:</h2>
Visit these other great hosts on this tour for more great reviews and opportunities to WIN in the giveaway! <script src="https://www.linkytools.com/basic_linky_include.aspx?id=312990" type="text/javascript"></script>
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<h2>Enter Now for Your Chance to Win!</h2>
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Debdatta Dasgupta http://www.blogger.com/profile/12575979550597861075noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3578371666134702214.post-45362590777186846062024-02-08T00:00:00.005+05:302024-02-08T00:00:00.239+05:30Read an Excerpt from One Wrong Move by Dani Pettrey<p> </p><div style="text-align: center;">
<h2><i>One Wrong Move</i></h2>
<h3>by Dani Pettrey</h3>
<h4>February 2 - March 1, 2024 Virtual Book Tour</h4>
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<h2>Synopsis:</h2>
<div style="float: left; margin-right: 15px; width: 225px;"><img alt="One Wrong Move by Dani Pettrey" border="0" height="309" src="https://partnersincrimetours.com/wp-content/uploads/forminator/13997_115b15d08b2c7bb7da2712949e71a2f7/uploads/RksNkMhSeqnL-9780764238482.jpg" style="float: left; margin-bottom: 5px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 15px; margin-top: 5px; margin: 5px 15px 5px 0px;" width="200" /></div>
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<h4>Taunting riddles.<br />
A deadly string of heists.<br />
Two broken hearts trapped in a killer's game.</h4>
<p>Christian O'Brady was pulled into a life of crime at a young age by his con artist parents. Now making amends for his corrupt past, he has become one of the country's foremost security experts. When a string of Southwestern art heists targets one of the galleries Christian secured, he is paired up with a gifted insurance investigator who has her own checkered past.</p>
<p>Andi Forester was a brilliant FBI forensic analyst until one of her colleagues destroyed her career, blaming her for mishandling evidence. She now puts those skills to work investigating insurance fraud, and this latest high-stakes case will test her gift to the limit. Drawn deep into a dangerous game with an opponent bent on revenge, Christian and Andi are in a race against the clock to catch him, but the perpetrator's game is far from finished, and one wrong move could be the death of them both.</p>
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<h3>Dani Pettrey captivates with...</h3>
<p>"An intense blend of suspense, love, and faith." <br /><span style="color: #c3ba2a; margin-left: 40px;">~ <em>Booklist</em></span></p>
<p>"Wicked pace, snappy dialogue, and likeable characters." <br /><span style="color: #c3ba2a; margin-left: 40px;">~ <em>Publishers Weekly</em></span></p>
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<blockquote class="details" style="margin: 20px; padding: 20px;">
<h3>Book Details:</h3>
<p><b>Genre:</b> Romantic Suspense <br />
<b>Published by:</b> Bethany House Publishers<br />
<b>Publication Date:</b> February 6, 2024<br />
<b>Number of Pages:</b> 400<br />
<b>ISBN:</b> 9780764238482 (ISBN10: 0764238485)<br />
<b>Series:</b> Jeopardy Falls, Book 1<br />
<b>Book Links:</b> <a href="https://amzn.to/3QS9sFj" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Amazon</a> | <a href="https://bit.ly/47KsHXU" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Barnes & Noble</a> | <a href="https://bit.ly/47Dogih" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">BookShop.org</a> | <a href="https://bit.ly/47K4Fw6" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Goodreads</a> | <a href="https://bit.ly/3GaLSP2" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Baker Book House</a></p>
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<h3>Read an excerpt:</h3>
<div class="excerpt" style="border-color: 800000; border-style: groove; border-width: 3px; height: 250px; overflow: auto;">
<h4>PROLOGUE</h4>
<p>He inhaled the stiff resolution of her death. She’d seen Cyrus. Remembered him. Now he’d need to silence her before she could mention Cyrus to anyone at the gallery. The imbecile should have been more careful, but that’s why he was in play. To assure things went according to plan, to remove anyone who stood in their way, and when it was done, to take out Cyrus and Casey. That he would delight in. Cyrus had been a pain in his rear as far back as he could recall. Casey. He was just a lamb to the slaughter, unfortunate fool.</p>
<p>Enrique released a smooth exhale, then inhaled the spicy scent of the girl’s perfume wafting on the stiff October breeze—whistling through the wind tunnel the long row of downtown businesses made.</p>
<p>Killing her would alert Cyrus to his presence in the States, but, perhaps it would keep him on his toes. Someone needed to.</p>
<p>Maintaining a good distance from his prey, Enrique followed as she meandered through the shops, wearing one of those recyclable grocery bags slung over her shoulder. A baguette and fresh flowers peeked out of the top. She made another stop, this time popping into a coffee shop. He kept walking, stopping a handful of stores down on the opposite side of the street, and waited, letting the other shoppers meld him into the crowd.</p>
<p>A cup of coffee in hand, the girl emerged.</p>
<p>He turned back to look in the storefront before him, waiting until she was far enough ahead for him to resume following. Nearly a fifteen-minute walk out of town, in an isolated patch of wind-stirred mesa, sat a two-story adobe building. Four exterior doors, each with a letter on it. Apartments.</p>
<p>Watching from behind a copse of trees, he waited while she retrieved her keys from her pocket, opened the bottom exterior door on the right, and disappeared inside. He held back, awaiting nightfall. He glanced at his watch. Not long. He surveyed the building, using binoculars to peer through the sheer curtains of her unit. A light in the bedroom shone, and slips of it spilled from what he could only assume was the adjacent bathroom.</p>
<p>He smiled.</p>
<p>The sun dipped below the horizon, and soon darkness shrouded the land. Time to move. Heading around to the back of the building, he found a sliding door to her unit. Easy enough. He jimmied the lock and eased inside.</p>
<p>Water ran in the bathroom, but a voice carried in song from the other side of the apartment. “Carry on Wayward Son.” Interesting choice.</p>
<p>He moved with stealth, approaching what he discerned was the kitchen. A teakettle whistled as steam from the open bathroom door filled the space. The girl turned the corner, dressed in a robe, a teacup in her hand. Her eyes locked on his, and panic flashed across her face as the teacup fell and shattered on the floor.</p>
<p>He smiled. Time to have some fun.</p>
<h4>ONE</h4>
<p>“Wait here,” Cyrus ordered.</p>
<p>“Why?” Casey asked—though pawn suited him better. As much as it galled him, Cyrus needed the insipid man. Needed his skills. For now. But when they were done, so was he. “Why?” he asked again.</p>
<p>Cyrus gritted his teeth. So incessant. He shook out his fists. Only a handful of locations to go and the questions would cease. <i>He</i> would cease. “It doesn’t take two of us to get what we came for,” he said, hoping Casey would accept the answer and let it drop, but he doubted it. “I’ve got this. Two of us will only draw more attention.”</p>
<p>“Fine.” Casey slumped back against the van’s passenger seat.</p>
<p>The imbecile was pouting like a girl. And, that knee. Cyrus wanted to break it. Always bouncing in that annoying, jittery way. The seat squeaked with the rapid, persistent motion. He shook his head on a grunted exhale. If Casey didn’t settle . . . if he blew their plans. Cyrus squeezed his fists tight, blood throbbing through his fingers. Too much was at stake. His own neck was on the line.</p>
<p>He turned his attention to the task at hand. “I won’t be long,” he said, surveying the space one last time before opening the van door. The lot behind them was dead, the building still. He climbed out, his breath a vapor in the cold night air. He glanced back at their van, barely visible in the pitch-black alley.</p>
<p>Shockingly, Casey remained in the passenger seat, his knee still bouncing high.</p>
<p>He shut the van door as eagerness coursed through him. The thrill and rush of the score mere minutes away. Just one quick job and then it was finally time.</p>
<p>He slipped his gloved hands into his pockets. A deeper rush nestled hot inside him, adrenaline searing his limbs. His fervency was for the kill.</p>
<p>He moved toward the rear of the restaurant, where the rental rooms’ entrance sat. His gloved fingers brushed the garrote in his right pocket, and he shifted his other hand to rest on the hilt of his gun. Which way would it go? Garrote or gun? Anticipation shot through him. Rounding the back of the building, he hung in the shadows and then stepped to the door and picked the lock—so simple a child could have done it. But what had he expected of a rent-by-the-hour-or-day establishment?</p>
<p>Opening the door, he stepped inside the minuscule foyer and studied the two doors on the ground level. Nothing but silence. He found the light switch and flipped off the ceiling bulb illuminating the stairwell, then crept up the stairs, pausing as one creaked. He held still, his back flush with the wall, once again shadowed in darkness. Nothing stirred.</p>
<p>Reaching her room, he picked the lock, stepped inside, and shut the door, locking it behind him.</p>
<p>She was asleep on the shoddy sofa, a ratty blanket draped across her. Getting rid of her now might be easier, but what fun was it killing someone while they slept? And he needed to make sure she had the items.</p>
<p>He stood a moment, watching her chest rise and fall with what would be her final breaths, then he knocked her feet with his elbow.</p>
<p>Her eyes flashed open as she lurched to a seated position. She rubbed her eyes. “You’re late.”</p>
<p><i>Less chance of witnesses.</i></p>
<p>“You have the items?”</p>
<p>She nodded.</p>
<p>“Get them. We’re in a hurry.”</p>
<p>She got to her feet and headed for the bedroom.</p>
<p>He followed.</p>
<p>To his surprise, she climbed up on the dresser and reached for the heating vent.</p>
<p><i>Huh.</i> She was smarter than he’d expected, yet not bright enough to know what was coming.</p>
<p>Pulling the dingy grate back, she retrieved a black velvet pouch and a bundle of letters held in place by a thick rubber band.</p>
<p>“Hand them over,” he said.</p>
<p>She hopped down and hesitated. “I get my cut, right?” She clutched the items to her pale chest.</p>
<p>“You’ll get your cut,” he said, wrapping his hands around the garrote.</p>
<p>She released her hold. Taking the bag first, he slid it into his upper jacket pocket, then slipped the letters into his pant pocket. “Good job.”</p>
<p>She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, revealing her creamy neck. “Thanks.”</p>
<p>Restless energy pulsed through him.</p>
<p>“Are we done here?” she asked, shifting her stance, her arms wrapped around her slender waist.</p>
<p>“Just about.”</p>
<p>“What’s left to do?” she asked, her head cocked, and then she stilled. She took a step back. So she’d finally figured it out.</p>
<p>“No.” She shook her head, backing into the paneled wall. In one movement, left hand to right shoulder, he spun her around and slipped the garrote over her head.</p>
<p>He’d intended to give her the option—the easy way with a gunshot to the head or the hard way with the garrote. But the hard way was far more pleasurable, giving him the best elated high.</p>
<p>It really was a shame. She was a pretty thing.</p>
<p>Five minutes later, he was back in the van, leaving the body behind.</p>
<p>“You got everything?” Casey asked as they pulled onto the street, their headlights off.</p>
<p>Cyrus smiled and handed both items to him. They were a go. The appetite for what was to come gnawed at Cyrus’s gut, but in a good way. It was time to feed the anticipation that had been growing in him for nigh on a year. It was time to scratch that itch.</p>
<h4>TWO</h4>
<p>Christian’s hands gripped the rock face. Granules abraded the tender flesh beneath his nails, leaving them raw. Pushing up on the ball of his foot, he strained, his fingers searching for the crag. Finally, his hand landed on the cold surface—only three inches deep. On a sharp inhale and slow exhale, he lunged upward—only the slightest hold kept him from the hundred-foot drop to the forest below. His foot landed on the next hold, and he settled, his muscles hot in the brisk dawn air. Blood throbbing through his fingers, he shifted the weight onto the balls of his feet.</p>
<p>Mapping the next route in his head, he leaped for the next hold. Air replaced the solid rock for the breath of a second, and searing adrenaline crashed through him as the hold slipped away. His pulse whooshing in his ears, he slid down, finally grabbing hold of a crag on his rapid descent. His fingers gripped hard—the only thing holding his body weight and keeping him from the ground far below.</p>
<p>He examined the cliff, looking for a foothold. Something. Anything. Adrenaline raked through him, quivering his arms. <i>Not good.</i> Time held motionless until he anchored his foot on a narrow ledge, small rocks shifting under the soles of his climbing shoes. He kept his weight on the ball of his foot while scanning for a new route up. He exhaled as he found it, but it was going to require another leap of faith.</p>
<p>Releasing his hold, he lunged for a more solid handhold. Gripping it, he worked his way up to another ledge—this one deep enough to settle comfortably onto.</p>
<p>His breathing quickened by the climb, he turned and pressed his back against the volcanic rock—cool against his heated and perspiring skin—and exhaled in a whoosh. Talk about a close one. He smiled. One more adventure down.</p>
<p>He held for a moment, taking in the morning light spreading across what seemed an endless sky. Man, he loved this view. Narrow shafts of sunlight streamed down through the early morning fog, lighting the yellow-and-orange foliage ablaze. Everyone talked about the beautiful fall colors in New England, but for him nothing beat fall in New Mexico, and it was peak season.</p>
<p>He sank into the silence. Only the occasional chirping of birds in the trees below rushed by his ears on the stiff, mounting breeze.</p>
<p>The brilliant orange sun rose higher above the horizon, its rays glinting off the rushing water of the swift creek at the bottom of the valley—chasing away the fading chill of night and replacing it with renewed warmth of the coming day.</p>
<p>“Ain’t Worried About It” broke the silence with its melody. Who on earth was calling so early? He prayed nothing was wrong. It was the only reason he kept his cell on him while climbing—in case there was an emergency and his family needed him.</p>
<p>He shimmied the phone from the Velcro pocket on his right thigh and maneuvered it to his ear without bothering to look at who was calling. “O’Brady.”</p>
<p>“I need you here now!” Tad Gaiman’s voice shook with rage.</p>
<p>Why on earth was Tad calling him so early? Why was he calling him, period?</p>
<p>Tad’s heated words tumbled out. “My gallery’s been robbed!”</p>
<p>“What?” Christian blinked. There was no way. The security system upgrades he’d installed made it impenetrable, or so he’d thought.</p>
<p>“Do you hear me? My gallery has been robbed!”</p>
<p>“I do.” He kept his voice level. Tad was frantic enough for the both of them. “Which gallery?” The man owned three.</p>
<p>“Jeopardy Falls.”</p>
<p>The one in their hometown? Crime was nearly nonexistent in their small ranching, lately turned tourist, town of five hundred. “Take a deep breath and calm down so you can focus.”</p>
<p>“Calm down?” Tad shrieked, and Christian held the phone away from his ear. Even his sister Riley couldn’t hit that high of a pitch. “Did you not hear me? My gallery’s been robbed.”</p>
<p>“I hear you. Let me call you back.”</p>
<p>“Call me back? You cannot be serious!”</p>
<p>“I’m balanced on a ledge on Manzano.”</p>
<p>“Of course you are.” Tad scoffed.</p>
<p>“I’ll call you when I’m on the road.”</p>
<p>“And how long will it take you to get here? This is a DEFCON 5 situation.”</p>
<p>Christian shook his head. Clearly, Tad had no idea what he was talking about. DEFCON 5 meant peacetime.</p>
<p>“Christian! How soon?”</p>
<p>“I need to climb down and make the drive back to town. I’ll see you in an hour.”</p>
<p>“An hour!”</p>
<p>“We’ll talk through it on my way in.”</p>
<p>Scaling down the rock face as fast as he could, Christian reached his vintage Bronco.</p>
<p>Climbing inside, he clicked on the Bluetooth he’d installed. It’d cost a lot, but in his line of work, he needed to be able to talk while on the road chasing down a case. He shook his head, still baffled that anyone had beat the security system.</p>
<p>He dialed Tad.</p>
<p>Normally his drive along the winding dirt roads through the mountains was calming, but not today.</p>
<p>Tad picked up on the third ring.</p>
<p>“Okay,” Christian said, swiping the chalk from his hands onto his pants—the climbing towel too far to reach. “Walk me through it. Did the alarm go off?”</p>
<p>“The one on the security system you said couldn’t be beat? No!”</p>
<p>Christian took a stiff inhale. How on earth had someone gotten through the door without the key fob? The fob . . . “Tad, do you have your key fob?”</p>
<p>Silence hung thick in the air as Christian’s Bronco bumped over the ruts in the dirt road, the drop-off only inches from his tires. He rounded the bend, and the road—if it could be deemed one—widened. “Tad?” he pressed.</p>
<p>“Okay, fine. I don’t have it.”</p>
<p>“Where is it?” Christian asked as he headed for the main road that led back to Jeopardy Falls.</p>
<p>Tad swallowed, the slippery, gulping sound echoing over the line. “I think the woman I spent last night with after the gala took it.”</p>
<p>“Riley mentioned she might attend the gala, but she couldn’t make it.”</p>
<p>“It was well attended.”</p>
<p>“And the woman you mentioned?”</p>
<p>“I met her at the gala.”</p>
<p>“She’s not local?”</p>
<p>“I’ve never seen her before last night.”</p>
<p>“So she just strolled into the gala?”</p>
<p>“Yes. It was a semiprivate affair. I sent out invites but welcomed anyone, given it was Friday Night on the Town.”</p>
<p>Their small town had instituted the night on the town for one Friday a month about a year ago, and it had really drummed up business for the eclectic downtown shops.</p>
<p>“Let’s shift back to the gallery,” Christian said. “I’m assuming you used Alex’s fob to get into the building?”</p>
<p>“No. I can’t get in.”</p>
<p>“Why not?” Christian pulled out onto the paved road.</p>
<p>“I can’t reach Alex, despite the fact she’s supposed to open this morning.”</p>
<p>“Okay . . . so walk me through what happened with the fob.”</p>
<p>“I woke up and that . . . woman was gone, and the fob wasn’t where I’d left it. I searched my place, but it’s not there, so I rushed to the gallery. I stopped at Alex’s place on the way, but no answer. She is so—”</p>
<p>“Settle down, Tad. Let’s think this through. Do you think Martha would let you into Alex’s place if you explained the situation?” Maybe the landlady would understand. Jeopardy Falls was a small enough town where everyone knew everyone, which was still taking time for him to get used to. To be known. Well, known at what he was willing to show, which wasn’t much.</p>
<p>“I’m not leaving my gallery. Not until I get inside and see what damage is done. You get the fob from Martha.”</p>
<p>Christian furrowed his brows. “If you can’t get in the gallery and the alarm didn’t go off, how do you know it’s been robbed?”</p>
<p>“Because I can see the three front cases through the porthole windows in the door. They’re open and empty.” A sob escaped Tad’s throat, though he tried to cover it with a cough.</p>
<p>Christian exhaled. “All right. I’ll call Martha, but she might not feel comfortable letting us in.” It was a lot to ask. “Actually, I think in this case, it’s best to have Sheriff Brunswick to reach out to Martha.”</p>
<p>“That’s a good idea,” Tad said. “Give him a call.”</p>
<p>“Wait?” Christian tapped the wheel. “He’s not there yet?”</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>“Did he give you an ETA?” Maybe Joel was on another call. Their county was large, and with only him and one undersheriff, they had a lot of ground to cover.</p>
<p>“I haven’t called him yet.”</p>
<p>Christian’s brows hiked. “You called me before the sheriff?” Where was the sense in that?</p>
<p>“You put the supposedly impenetrable system in. I want to know what went wrong. And I need you to get me inside if we can’t get Alex’s fob.”</p>
<p>“Me?” Christian tapped the wheel.</p>
<p>“You installed the system, so surely you know how to beat it. And, regardless, you’re the one the sheriff calls when they need a locksmith or safecracker on a case. Though you’re quite more than a simple locksmith, aren’t you?”</p>
<p>Christian stiffened. “Meaning?”</p>
<p>“Whoever did this obviously had knowledge of the system.”</p>
<p>“And . . . ?” Christian tightened his grip on the wheel, his knuckles turning white.</p>
<p>“As far as I’m concerned, you’re to blame.”</p>
<p>Christian swallowed the sharp retort ready to fly and took a settling breath instead. “I’ll be there in twenty.”</p>
<p>He disconnected the call before Tad could throw another barb in his direction. He knew all too well how those stinging barbs felt, but this time he was innocent.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Excerpt from <i>One Wrong Move</i> by Dani Pettrey. Copyright 2024 by Dani Pettrey. Reproduced with permission from Bethany House Publishers. All rights reserved.</p>
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<h2>Author Bio:</h2>
<div style="float: right; margin-left: 15px; width: 330px;"><img align="left" alt="Dani Pettrey" border="0" height="200" src="https://partnersincrimetours.com/wp-content/uploads/forminator/13997_115b15d08b2c7bb7da2712949e71a2f7/uploads/cedhJe9poOGh-Pettrey_Dani.jpg" style="float: right; margin-bottom: 5px; margin-left: 15px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 5px; margin: 5px 0px 5px 15px;" width="300" /></div>
<p>Dani Pettrey is the bestselling author of the Coastal Guardians, Chesapeake Valor, and Alaskan Courage series. A two-time Christy Award finalist, Dani has won the National Readers' Choice Award, Daphne du Maurier Award, HOLT Medallion, and Christian Retailing's Best Award for Suspense. She plots murder and mayhem from her home in the Washington, DC, metro area.</p>
<h3>Catch Up With Dani Pettrey:<br />
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Debdatta Dasgupta http://www.blogger.com/profile/12575979550597861075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3578371666134702214.post-6421927627880761122024-02-07T00:00:00.001+05:302024-02-13T13:50:33.608+05:30The Closer by Rowan Rossler<p> </p><div style="margin: 0px auto 15px; text-align: center;">
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<p><strong>The Closer</strong><br /><strong>Rowan Rossler</strong><br />Publication date: March 14th 2024<br />Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance</p><blockquote><p>Ten years ago, I met the man of my dreams. A stupidly gorgeous and wildly talented venture capitalist named Dallas Evener. I was the fiery yin to his dominant yang. He set my entrepreneurial heart aflame. Our destiny was clear as day … and then he had to go and ruin it.</p>
<p>I swore never to do business with him.</p>
<p>A decade later, I’m eating my words.</p>
<p>A scandal rocks my startup passion project and I’m left in a lurch when the lead investor backs out. My only hope for money? Dallas. But that means I play by his rules. And the whispers around town imply he funds his projects with dirty money.</p>
<p>Is that why we fly to Argentina to close the deal with a mysterious financier? Dallas promises this is a no-brainer, although nothing comes risk-free. I’ll take a chance with my company. The question is, do I put my heart on the line again when our simmering chemistry reignites? Because there is more to this transaction than meets the eye. And everything I thought I knew about Dallas and love tangles into a compromising position neither of us expects.</p>
<p><b>The epic finale to the Hustlers Series is a full-length enemies-to-lovers dark romance, buzzing with spicy friction, tangled fates, and steamy second chances. In this happily ever after, matters of the heart are the hardest deals to close. For readers 18+</b></p>
</blockquote>
<p style="font-size: 130%; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/197968113-the-closer" target="_blank">Add to Goodreads</a> / <a href="https://amzn.to/3HJ2JJD" target="_blank">Pre-order</a></p>
<p><br class="blank" /></p>
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<blockquote style="margin-bottom: 15px; margin-top: 15px;">
<p>Author Bio:</p>
<p>My goals are simple. To make the world a better place one love story at a time.</p>
<p>Q: What can you expect from my books?</p>
<p>A: Where heat meets heart!</p>
<p>Every writer sprinkles their brand of DNA magic into stories and my ingredients are glamorous destinations, brilliant, sexy minds, and juicy plots with just the right amount of spice stirred in to kick things up a notch.</p>
<p>I also love messy characters. Ones who struggle, but never give up. My women are strong-willed and successful, but never infallible when it comes to matters of the heart. My men are maddeningly imperfect and sexy AF.</p>
<p>If you like all of the above, it might be love at first page read!</p>
<p>The Hustlers is my first series, an interconnected trilogy that can be read as stand-alone. You’ll meet three alluring BFF’s navigating dreams, desires, and all the beautiful complications of falling in love.</p>
<p>Set against the backdrop of sultry jet-set lifestyles, if you crave vivid characters, adventurous plots and sensual moments, these mid-steam romps are the perfect escape.</p>
<p style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://rowanrossler.com/" target="_blank">Website</a> / <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/21989467.Rowan_Rossler" target="_blank">Goodreads</a> / <a href="https://www.facebook.com/rowanrossler/" target="_blank">Facebook</a> / <a href="https://twitter.com/RosslerRowan" target="_blank">Twitter</a> / <a href="https://www.instagram.com/rowan.rossler.romance/" target="_blank">Instagram</a> / <a href="https://www.bookbub.com/authors/rowan-rossler" target="_blank">Bookbub</a> / <a href="https://www.youtube.com/channel/UClmr0aSII_IOdjJsWQSIq2A" target="_blank">Youtube</a> / <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@rowanrossler" target="_blank">TikTok</a> / <a href="https://amzn.to/3YTDM4y" target="_blank">Amazon</a></p>
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<p style="text-align: center;">—<br />
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<p style="text-align: center;"></p>Debdatta Dasgupta http://www.blogger.com/profile/12575979550597861075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3578371666134702214.post-25236748853623472802024-02-06T00:00:00.008+05:302024-02-06T00:00:00.234+05:30Read an Excerpt from Renewed Hope by Carmen Peone<p> </p><div style="margin: 0px auto 15px; text-align: center;">
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<p><strong>Renewed Hope</strong><br /><strong>Carmen Peone</strong><br />Publication date: February 6th 2024<br />Genres: Contemporary, Romance, Western</p><blockquote><p><strong>Can they find her son in time?</strong></p>
<p>Sophie Cayes is on the road to success as an artist. Until her ex-husband threatens to sue for full custody of their son. Upon learning of a guest ranch in Eastern Washington that keeps a room open for women in need, she grabs her son and bolts.</p>
<p>Although Chad Davis loves starting colts on the Seven Tine Guest Ranch, his goal is to have his own spread. Everything’s on course until a woman and her preschool son show up. He’s not thrilled about helping out. Until the boy comes up missing. On his watch.</p>
<p>Along with a tribal cop, they head back to Montana in search of the boy, knowing his dad was the one who kidnapped him. Sophie prays they find him before her ex-husband and his new wife go on the run. Taking her son with them.</p>
</blockquote>
<p style="font-size: 130%; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/123277909-renewed-hope" target="_blank">Goodreads</a> / <a href="https://amzn.to/3SGyZDs" target="_blank">Amazon</a> / <a href="https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/renewed-hope-carmen-peone/1143235972" target="_blank">Barnes & Noble</a></p>
<p style="text-align: center;">—</p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><strong>EXCERPT:</strong></p>
<p>“What’s wrong?” Chad took her shoulders and moved her aside. “Oh, crap. That’s not good.”</p>
<p>Her paintings were strewn over her worktable. Every single one—the meadows, deer, rivers, wolves and coyotes, mountains, birds—had been marked up with a black, permanent marker. And each of her nine-by-twelve-inch canvases appeared to have been sliced with something the<br />
size of a Buck knife, like the one Matt packed around. Oh, and there was the buffalo she’d been working on, a gash across his face. Tears pooled in her eyes. “How could he be so evil?”</p>
<p>With quaking fingers, she made a call. “No way.” Her face and ears turned red.</p>
<p>“What’s the matter?”</p>
<p>She shook her head and made another call. “I can’t believe this.”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“Both Matt and Olivia’s phones are no longer in service.” She shoved the cell into her back pocket. “What are we going to do? How am I going to find my son?”</p>
<p>“Chuck will find him.” He had to. Chad strode to the table and began stacking the paintings.</p>
<p>“Don’t bother. Matt’s behind this mess. Besides, we’ll figure out where he has Basin before his fingerprints are processed.”</p>
<p>Sophie ambled over to one of her wooden easels that lay splintered on the brown carpet. “When I left, this canvas . . . was on the . . .” She pointed to the easel. “It was yellow with<br />
brilliant blues and purples . . .” She hiccupped a sob.</p>
<p>The owl painting now lay crumpled on the floor, a dirty footprint across the top. She picked up the piece and traced the rough gash puncturing its heart.</p>
<p>“How will we find Basin? How will I provide for him? I need money to pay rent. It’s due tomorrow.” Sophie squeezed her eyes shut. “Oh, God, why? Why Basin? Why<br />
my paintings? Just when my life had come together. Why?”</p>
<p>Chad brought her to his chest and let her cry. Releasing an animal-like howl, she collapsed into his embrace. “He’ll pay for this.”<br />
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<blockquote style="margin-bottom: 15px; margin-top: 15px;">
<p>Author Bio:</p>
<p>Carmen Peone is an award-winning author who loves to write inspirational stories of hope, healing, & horses that lead to happily ever after.</p>
<p>She is one of the few authors who has not always dreamed of writing. It found her. Spupaleena, Carmen’s character in the True to Heart Trilogy hounded her until she told her story. Carmen soon learned how much she loved writing and creating stories with strong female characters.</p>
<p>Besides Carmen’s infinite love for her Dingo Daisy Mae, may she now rest in peace, she loves horses. They brighten dark days, get creative juices flowing when in a slump, and put smiles on the faces of those who visit with them. You can see Buck and Cash on the covers of the True to Heart Trilogy. </p>
<p>You are invited to subscribe to Carmen’s blog and learn about various cultural traditions and life on the reservation as well as Incredible Western Women and fellow author’s new releases. When you sign up for Connect with Carmen, you can receive 3 free gifts as a thank you: Gentling the Cowboy, a contemporary western romance novella; A Horse Lover’s Manifesto; and a contemporary western romance short story, Arami’s Hope.</p>
<p>Carmen is represented by Linda S. Glaz Literary Agency.</p>
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<a href="https://carmenpeone.com/" target="_blank">Website</a> / <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4862063.Carmen_Peone" target="_blank">Goodreads</a> / <a href="https://www.facebook.com/CarmenEPeone/" target="_blank">Facebook</a> / <a href="https://www.instagram.com/jcpeone/" target="_blank">Instagram</a> / <a href="https://twitter.com/carmenpeone" target="_blank">Twitter</a></p>
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<p style="text-align: center;"></p>Debdatta Dasgupta http://www.blogger.com/profile/12575979550597861075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3578371666134702214.post-9071869389432649112024-02-05T00:00:00.007+05:302024-02-05T09:30:31.795+05:30Their Shattered Hearts by Angie Cole<p> </p><div style="margin: 0px auto 15px; text-align: center;">
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<p><strong>Their Shattered Hearts</strong><br /><strong>Angie Cole</strong><br />Publication date: March 1st 2024<br />Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance</p><blockquote><p>A story of love, loss, and redemption unfolds in the rustic charm of Cardinal Creek, Texas. Will Deluca, a stoic firefighter and ranch owner, bears the weight of his wife’s untimely demise. His world once filled with warmth, now echoes with the silent grief of his two children and the unyielding Texas plains.</p>
<p>Enter Anna Samuels, a heart that’s seen its share of sorrow. Leaving Missouri’s memories behind, she hopes to find solace and new beginnings in the small Texas town. As a dedicated palliative care nurse, she embarks on a mission to bring comfort to families grappling with illness. Destiny leads her to Rockin’ D Ranch, where her path crosses with Will, a man whose rugged charm and piercing blue eyes hide a world of pain.</p>
<p>Amidst the rolling hills of Cardinal Creek, Will and Anna find their lives intricately entwined, linked by a forgotten encounter from their youth. Anna’s arrival sparks a glimmer of hope in Will’s heart, inspiring him to fulfill a promise to his late wife: to create a sanctuary for children with autism. Together, they begin to weave dreams of a brighter future.</p>
<p>But shadows linger in the corners of their newfound happiness. Anna grapples with a dark secret that threatens to destroy the life she has built in Cardinal Creek. As Will confronts his own fears, he risks losing the one person who could help him heal. In the face of adversity, will they find the strength to conquer their demons and embrace a second chance at love?</p>
<p>In Their Shattered Hearts fate, passion, and dark secrets collide. Join Will and Anna as they journey through the complexities of the heart, learning that sometimes, the path to happiness is paved with the courage to face the ghosts of the past.</p>
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<p style="text-align: center;"></p>Debdatta Dasgupta http://www.blogger.com/profile/12575979550597861075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3578371666134702214.post-77323709769912704022024-02-03T22:30:00.007+05:302024-02-05T09:45:23.908+05:30Day 3 at the Samsung Galaxy Tab S9 Series Jaipur Literature Festival full of substance and grit with many sessions, awards, book launches<p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="text-align: justify;">The third day of the Samsung Galaxy Tab S9 Series Jaipur Literature Festival began with a lyrical performance from the renowned Trio One World, presented by the Embassy of Switzerland. They are a classical crossover project that combines western classical piano and Indian classical sitar and tabla. With Rohan Dasgupta on the sitar, and Pandit Udhai Mazumdar on the tabla, they were able to transport the audience to another realm.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="text-align: justify;"> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://www.ddsreviews.in/2024/02/day-3-at-jlf.html" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="357" data-original-width="250" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTsXNmYA8dsr9cWDhUpykeBETBlciBNCM-ML4WKPy_kHTi1US_NLy3IcQJgrHYLEaXjWdDgOlq6E5Ce165zh5vLNLSVT_wNYnk2H18j4_X8pUhH2MqfO8LGtVdzCigkio-yFgRdB6mriyIyaFwyJfsrlAyht-Z-KyvHkGuGS4_MyGtsphix_oQ9SfKRBs/s320/jlf-logo.png" width="224" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></span><p></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Acclaimed poet Arundhathi Subramaniam has been awarded the prestigious Kanhaiyalal Sethia Award 2024. Mahakavi Kanhaiyalal Sethia, a celebrated poet, educator, social reformer, environmentalist, and freedom fighter, is remembered through the annual award, presented by the Festival in collaboration with the Mahakavi Kanhaiyalal Sethia Foundation. The esteemed jury consisted of Namita Gokhale, Sanjoy K. Roy, Sukrita Paul Kumar, Ranjit Hoskote, and Siddharth Sethia.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The morning commenced with a focus on the larger canvas of the our place in the universe and our forays in outer space with a session titled <b>The Pale Blue Dot: Cherishing Our Planet </b>with<b> Founder of Myntra </b>and <b>CureFit </b>Mukesh Bansal, G20 Sherpa to the Prime Minister Amitabh Kant and Chief Economist of Axis Bank Neelkanth Mishra in conversation with NDTV Group Executive Editor Vishnu Som (Presented by Samsung Galaxy Tab S9 Series). Speaking of the growing industry of space exploration and India’s place in it, Kant said, “We should not be in the space business for space tourism, but to improve the lives of our citizens”. The panel highlighted the role that the private sector and, most importantly, the youth of India must play in the research of space exploration. Bansal, who has also funded India’s first private space company, Skyroot, added, “A lot of young entrepreneurs are understanding that sky's the limit, literally.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">One of today’s marquee sessions was <b>Oppenheimer: The American Prometheus </b>in which the co-writer of <span class="s1" style="background-color: white;"><i>American Prometheus: The Triumph and Tragedy of J. Robert Oppenheimer</i></span><span class="s2" style="background-color: white; color: #3c4044;"><i>,</i></span> Kai Bird, was<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>in conversation with British journalist Jonathan Freedland, (presented by Rajasthan Patrika).</span></p><p class="p2" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; min-height: 13px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Bird’s book was the inspiration behind the 2024 Academy award-nominated film Oppenheimer. He opened the session by expressing his great approval of the movie’s portrayal of Robert J. Oppenheimer’s life. He spoke about the importance of Oppenheimer, “Oppenheimer gave us the nuclear age, the atomic age that we are still with that we will always be living with in this very dangerous world balanced on the precipice of Armageddon.” Bird also shared that Oppenheimer was a very complicated and hard man to understand; he had justified the existence of the bomb to himself as he truly believed that the bomb was needed to end all wars.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In <b>The Power of Myth, </b>Anand Neelkanthan in conversation with Satyarth Nayak (Presented by The Week), explored the plurality of the Hindu texts and the various interpretations across regions and periods. Neelkanthan, author of the blockbuster Bahubali trilogy, explained his idea of ‘<i>Ishwar’</i> and how it vastly differs from the concept of ‘One god, one Hindu’ that was developed by the British during the colonial era. At the end of the session, Neelkanthan mentioned his new release, <i>Asura: Tale of the Vanquished,</i> and how it explores the narratives of Raavan in different Puranic texts.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.ddsreviews.in/2024/02/day-3-at-jlf.html" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="3265" data-original-width="4898" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj19SNg31_2xZSLOYxeJE71jaaZbpv3WTDwMNO93eUBxprabWEI1p9FeLpb3Saj9v3VZHKrC5Zba5-GaUiGJ3cCpFCw5jESuwy0IvFGyTCQ6xjRDzxWPaFmjyR1umXzZonO_Xcxs2njdmgFX1uhwISAuVWBk-eIPigd155XNtjcuztFWMDLD4ZDGyaqBA/w640-h426/Namita%20Gokhale,%20Pragya%20Tiwari,%20Eric%20Chopra%20and%20Hemali%20Sodhi%20in%20conversation.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The much-awaited session, <b>Paro Turns 40</b>, celebrated 40 years of writer and Festival Co-Director and Co-Founder<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Namita Gokhale’s trailblazing 80s novel <i>Paro: Dreams of Passion</i>.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The session featured Gokhale, journalist Pragya Tiwari, podcaster Eric Chopra, and literary agent Hemali Sodhi in conversation (presented by Sakal Media). Gokhale reminisced about her debut novel <i>Paro</i>, first published in 1984, which has remained a cult classic over the years. She remarked, “I think people got offended because it was funny about sex, I don't think it was the sexual bit that offended people. Women were not allowed to laugh at things sexual…” <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In the session, <b>The Name is Fleming, Ian Fleming, </b>award-winning biographer, Nicholas Shakespeare discussed his book <i>Ian Fleming: The Complete Man</i> with Matthew Parker, renowned historian and writer. Shakespeare shared intimate details about the trajectory of Fleming’s life, from his childhood when he lost his father at eight years old to eventually landing a job in Geneva, Austria at the League of Nations. While talking about Fleming, Shakespeare described, “He [Fleming] was the son of privilege but the grandson of poverty….” Letting the audience into a secret, Shakespeare said that it was Fleming’s access to naval intelligence that inspired him to record his operations into the now world-renowned <i>James Bond.</i></span></p><p class="p2" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; min-height: 13px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In a session<b> </b>with <b>Booker Prize awardee </b>Damon Galgut in conversation with Anish Gawande (presented by: TV9), Galgut talked about his book <i>The Promise</i>, which conveys the play of power in relationships - with self, society, state - against the backdrop of post-apartheid South Africa. Galgut said that it was structured around four funerals that had taken place in his friend’s family during the most tumultuous decades in South Africa which witnessed transformational changes. When asked about how he is as a writer, Galgut admitted, “I am the messiest, most chaotic of writers, I start from complete obscurity and incoherence, not really knowing what it is I want to express, how I want to express it.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In another session which focused on the current global climate crisis and its impact on India's primary energy needs, Founder, Chairman and CEO of ReNew, Sumant Sinha, said, “I think a lot has changed..15 years ago, climate change was something that we were just beginning to imagine and start thinking about, today I think it is front and centre..”.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Some of the sessions which made up the large canvas of day 3 are listed below:</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.ddsreviews.in/2024/02/day-3-at-jlf.html" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3265" data-original-width="4898" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSAcWzYYDduT1Jj_DtUji_K8a1l30-EmtPS-LCXQPtPuz4jI0xNxTgwuhmRsL9WK2i14ha11xdRX94vZ8nLH4sd-KM1SlyF66ncXKcNBPdOrUCperroKytUIsK3YgZIKsgI5QBmzQ16bfYQvh7xbX217x6oqbDqmiS6p5CfWSf2O_Wei6dd5Hi96y9Qko/w640-h426/Mridula%20Garg,%20Kalpana%20Raina,%20Merve%20Emre%20and%20Navdeep%20Suri%20in%20conversation%20with%20Nilanjana%20S.%20Roy2.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="p3" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Banned, Burned and Censored</span></b></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Speakers</b>: Mridula Garg, Kalpana Raina, Merve Emre and Navdeep Suri in conversation with Nilanjana S. Roy</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Presented by TV9</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">An illustrious panel spoke about the currently relevant issue of book bans and censorship that has been on the rise globally. The session was interspersed with the speakers’ experiences of “rehabilitating” work that had been banned years ago by different institutions in power. While talking about her grandfather Harikrishna Kaul, Kalpana Raina said “He was an author without an audience and I want to focus on rehabilitating a writer and giving him his rightful place in history.” While talking about her work that received considerable criticism, Mridula Garg said, “When I was arrested, I was fine, I was released. No harm was done to me. But it did harm for the literature community”. Merve Emre highlighted, “We need to think of book banning, burnings and censorship in the context of expansion of all other types of freedom of expression.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> <br /><br /></span></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://www.ddsreviews.in/2024/02/day-3-at-jlf.html" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3266" data-original-width="4897" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmXSsgHveDhgYOszIPkXjAzTv99jrLh4Obhgz5Jn1Nr-0UvQAGQ-1bN1SMpjVynLHO-9hAU6XnV-m1N1tVipwTQasuT1WdrFdefQ2AUpm0kltABfwMbrqHE7ImVa5oGm4zcDSGau93Tu10Q4IG9ncJSt9kh7fPWSJb6a39dD-Kc_zC7wtC4g4QS9FJ2Zk/w640-h426/Justice%20Madan%20B.%20Lokur,%20Justice%20S.%20Muralidhar,%20Sital%20Kalantry%20and%20Aparna%20Chandra%20in%20conversation%20with%20Chief%20Justice%20Raghavendra%20Chauhan.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"><br /></span></span><p></p><p class="p3" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Justice: The Voice of the Voiceless</span></b></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Speakers:</b> Justice Madan B. Lokur, Justice S. Muralidhar, Sital Kalantry, and Aparna Chandra in conversation with Chief Justice Raghavendra Chauhan</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Presented by The Quint</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The session began with Aparna Chandra, author and Associate Professor of Law, speaking about the enormous changes in the role and the structure of the Supreme Court over the 75 years of its existence. Justice Muralidhar remarked, “Today we don’t have a judiciary that is completely insulated from executive interference.” Chandra took the conversation further by discussing the themes in her co-authored book<i> Court on Trial: A Data-Driven Account of the Supreme Court of India</i>, the everyday working of the court and the broader pattern of the court’s functioning and the gaps between the intent and the outcome. The session progressed with Sital Kalantry commenting on the Supreme Court’s access to people and how if more time was spent hearing PILs then the reach of the court would be wider. Justice Madan B. Lokur added, “The Constitution of India itself provides sufficient guidelines for coming to the Supreme Court; so all that the Supreme Court needs to do is follow what the Constitution says.” The session ended appropriately with the panellists discussing the lack of women judges in the collegium and whether the Supreme Court was suffering from a patriarchal syndrome.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p><p class="p3" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: inherit;">The Palestine Laboratory</span></b></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Speakers</b>: Antony Loewenstein, Navtej Sarna, Charles Glass and Kai Bird in conversation with Suhasini Haidar</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">As the world reels under the current conflict between Israel and Palestine, an informed panel discussed the complicated history of the conflict, the present developments and their likely impact on the region. Diplomatic Editor of <i>The Hindu</i>, Suhasini Haidar added, “…death toll that is already crossing 25,000 and closer to 30,000 at the time we speak…as a journalist you're used to seeing a lot…but … (what’s) new is to hear is the UN Secretary General speak up about an area as a graveyard for children because of the daily bombardment…” Jewish journalist Antony Loewenstein, empathised with Palestinians and felt that the Western world’s support for Israel, which was gradually diminishing, was a wake-up call, and that he believed that one democratic state was a solution. Author Charles Glass expressed his concern on the plight of Palestinians in Gaza, lack of essentials, due to ongoing Israeli attacks. Kai Bird believed that events of 7th October have changed fundamental Jewish sensibilities of security and America's influence on the on-going conflict.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p><p class="p2" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; min-height: 13px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Tomorrow, the Festival is looking forward to host author and Padma Shri awardee Sudha Murty; winner of the Baillie Gifford Prize for 2021, writer and journalist Patrick Radden Keefe; the UN Resident Coordinator for India Shombi Sharp; 2023 International Booker Prize-winning author Georgi Gospodinov; third-time member of the Parliament and best-selling author Shashi Tharoor; US Ambassador to India Eric Garcetti, amongst a long list of speakers.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p>Debdatta Dasgupta http://www.blogger.com/profile/12575979550597861075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3578371666134702214.post-49990434785767642982024-02-02T21:00:00.008+05:302024-02-03T10:45:03.764+05:30Day 2 of Samsung Galaxy Tab S9 Series Jaipur Literature Festival 2024 featured path-breaking ideas & phenomenal speakers<p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="text-align: justify;">The second day of the Samsung Galaxy Tab S9 Series Jaipur Literature Festival 2024 featured diverse themes from fiction to memoir and fashion and travel to politics and India’s economic future to espionage and the Second World War. The day began on a soul-stirring note with Morning Music by Phil Scarff, master jazz saxophonist who performed a series of traditional music </span><i style="text-align: justify;">ragas</i><span style="text-align: justify;">. He was accompanied by Priyank Krishna, a classical saxophonist and Pandit Anoop Banerjee, tabla player.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="text-align: justify;"> <br /><br /><br /></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://www.ddsreviews.in/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="357" data-original-width="250" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsOu1qyGYZhiuatZ55sne6C2PdGzr9lsi2vMYkYQgAVse7PKky_P1p8QBHzMoYmbP8mQI1uXnFa9DAE8tzcyAHJ27OL7ZMULy_5GxwoN9t20Fuur2roDw3SsQJKY4yH6pNOFmht948BJlS8UZRbd3oPxohY4IM7CB6ixVDcUnqLd5-VibeaGS5yxSuC1g/s320/jlf-logo.png" width="224" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The day was full of interesting, inspirational and reflective sessions covering a gamut of ideas and multiple genres in books by acclaimed and award-winning writers and speakers. Some of the key sessions of the day are listed below:</span></p><p class="p2" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Trust</span></b></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Speakers:</b> Hernan Diaz in conversation with Katie Kitamura</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Pulitzer Prize-winning author Hernan Diaz, introduced the theme of solitude, trust and the mythological touch in his novel. While talking about how he approached writing, Diaz remarked, “I'm not a testimonial writer, my personal experiences do not constitute the primordial material out which I draw my books…because I'm fatally and irreversibly me…so it's inevitable that I will be on the page, but…I happen to be the kind of writer who thinks that literature is made out of more literature, and I write facing tradition, not to the back to it…most of my work engages with these hardened tropes and then tries, inspires, to make some sort of archaeological intervention into them…”.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p><p class="p2" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Yashodhara and the women of Sangha<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></b></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Speakers:</b> Shyam Selvadurai and Vanessa R. Sasson in conversation with Arundhati Subramaniam, introduced by the Deputy High Commissioner of Canada to India, Stewart Wheeler<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Presented by: Dainik Bhaskar<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Writer and academic Vanessa Sasson spoke about her inspiration for writing her book on <span class="s1" style="background-color: white; color: #1a1a1a;">the shadowy figure of Yashodhara, the young wife Siddhartha left behind in the palace before he became the Buddha. </span>She spoke about how Yashodhara’s character has never been given the attention she deserved. Sasson also talked about her privilege of being able to research and study religious literature and how the women of the past needed their stories to be retold. Echoing Sasson’ sentiments about Yashodhara, Arundhati Subramaniam said, “What struck me about both these novels is that there are similarities, in both Yashodhara is a proud, spirited, woman with questions that would perhaps always remain unanswered. In both cases, there is a very deep and very genuine love between her and Siddhartha, in both there is a very deep preoccupation with women’s relationships and female bonding and yet they are vastly dissimilar.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> <br /><br /></span></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://www.ddsreviews.in/2024/02/jlf-2024-day-2.html" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3265" data-original-width="4898" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTffYGC8el6QdujpDtiZzyo4BIXf4PybBFCffDH-0rpCDQhIj1eGBVLOl8zSxCN86ZxLbOKYs0XTe9DXL6LnDhHp04BPCYCGEyr4iASJSZHRAJ9f3N_5PI7WMkspdnHqx_VDNfTlMOe7TRpA48cKyisNrvm2yD3Cm1trvgBJLn-ZYCWS2rED2zIB8qkSY/w640-h426/Gurcharan%20Das,%20Mandira%20Nayar,%20Mani%20Shankar%20Aiyar.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><p></p><p class="p2" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: inherit;">The Memoirists</span></b></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Speakers:</b> Mani Shankar Aiyar and Gurcharan Das in conversation with Mandira Nayar</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Presented by Rajasthan Patrika</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">A fascinating session, The Memoirists, sprinkled with anecdotes from the speakers’ childhoods and professional lives, took the audience through the processes of how Mani Shankar Aiyar and Gurcharan Das, respectively wrote their memoirs. Das let us into a secret of his writing, “The reason why I am able to write so clearly about my childhood is because of my mother’s diaries.” Aiyar reminisced moments that he truly enjoyed while writing, “I’ve always enjoyed writing. I have never known how to stop.”</span></p><p class="p2" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: inherit;">The Elephant Moves: India’s new Place in the World</span></b></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Speakers:</b> Arun Kumar, Amitabh Kant, Amit Kapoor, Ajai Chowdhry in conversation with Nidhi Razdan</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Presented by Dainik Bhaskar</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Another session began with the unveiling of Amitabh Kant and Amit Kapoor’s new book <i>The Elephant Moves</i>. Kant is presently the G20 Sherpa to the Prime Minister of India and Kapoor is the <span class="s2" style="color: #151515;">Honorary Chairman at Institute for Competitiveness, India, and Lecturer at USATMC, Stanford University. </span>The session also featured Arun Kumar, Ajai Chowdhry, and Nidhi Razdan. It highlighted the great advancements that India has made over the years including its technological infrastructure and better governance structures, however it also acknowledged that India has ways to go when it comes to social development and employment. In his aspirations for the country, Kant said, “India needs to be a very integral part of the global value chain.”</span></p><p class="p2" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: inherit;">The Escape Artist: The Man Who Broke Out of Auschwitz to Warn The Worldz</span></b></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Speakers:</b> Jonathan Freedland in conversation with Roger Cohen</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Orwell prize-winning journalist and author Jonathan Freedland spoke about his book <i>The Escape Artist</i>. At the age of 19, he had watched a documentary film of people who had witnessed the attempt to murder all the jews in Nazi Germany. The film mentioned in passing the story of Rudolph Vrba — the subject of Freedland’s book — a man who had managed to escape Auschwitz. In response to Roger Cohen’s question about why people refused to believe Jewish stories Jonathan responded “We sometimes know the truth, we know the facts …but something in us stops us being able to believe them.”</span></p><p class="p2" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Twelve Caesars: Images of Power from the ancient world to the modern</span></b></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Speakers:</b> Mary Beard in conversation with Peter Frankopan <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In another session, much-loved classicist Mary Beard spoke about the Roman Empire and how the discourse around it has been resurging in recent times with TikTok trends such as ‘What’s Your Roman Empire?’ Beard spoke about her fascinating book <i>Twelve Caesars</i>. When describing the process she undertook to portray the historical figures, she said, “That’s the point of portraiture… It’s the creation of a way of seeing the ruler, it isn’t necessarily wholly dependent on what the ruler looks like”. She was in conversation with historian Peter Frankopan.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"><br /></span></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://www.ddsreviews.in/2024/02/jlf-2024-day-2.html" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4897" data-original-width="3266" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh79nKtH7y5kCtlvReGsDmZbjYiFFUlnwxxseRChMxImDjESNUMtix7V5Fn0yLs5XULZ7do-lK8PrqE1tf4sb5Tw9X1jKUV09-EB5BdWHNsFBq8B6o9wwqMvunK30iTCw6wWG_tD9hRZcqQrTMq3lFQ2mr4HhbaTaFDtDWEp2HJkC_25uP_u_gUAld2gM/w266-h400/Gulzar.JPG" width="266" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"><br /></span></span><p></p><p class="p2" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Gulzaar Sa’ab<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></b></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Speakers:</b> Gulzar and Yatindra Mishra in conversation with Sathya Saran</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Presented by Rajasthan Patrika</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The session discussed Yatindra Mishra's new book, <i>Gulzar Sa’ab</i>, which takes us on a journey through his life and times.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The book is based on meticulously recorded conversations, recorded over two decades, translated into English by Sathya Saran, Mishra's book is a tribute to the genius of Gulzaar Sa’ab, whose presence at the session lifted the audience’s spirits. The session was brimming over with people, all hanging at every word being uttered by Gulzaar.</span></p><p class="p2" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: inherit;">The Identity Trap</span></b></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Speakers: </b>Yascha Mounk, Badri Narayan and Sreenivasan Jain in conversation with Pragya Tiwari<b> </b></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Authors Yascha Mounk, Badri Narayan, and journalist Sreenivasan Jain discussed the intertwined nature of identity, ideas, and individualism in today’s political sphere, while in conversation with journalist<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Pragya Tiwari. While Yascha Mounk shared his insight on childhood in Germany, the white privilege, race difference, and race encouragement in the West, he also proposed alternatives to these challenges and the need for constructed politics. Journalist Sreenivasan Jain talked about his experience as a writer, and his recently released and co-written book <i>Love Jihad and Other Fictions</i> - the book is a detailed account of India’s evolving rifts arising from misinformation, and conspiracy theories against minorities, which he and his co-authors have investigated and debunked them after fact-checking. He said, “…democracies function and thrive when they are built on the bedrock of certain shared facts and shared truths.” Badri Narayan, poet and academic, spoke about the need to tap into the unexplored potential of Dalits, and the challenges he feels as a writer belonging to the upper caste working on the social dichotomies in India.</span></p><p class="p2" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Colditz: Prisoners of Castle</span></b></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Speakers:</b> Ben Macintyre in conversation with Narayani Basu</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Presented by OneIndia</span></p><p class="p3" style="background-color: white; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Bestselling historian Ben Macintyre’s latest nonfiction book, <i>Colditz: Prisoners of the Castle, </i>is a true story of the most infamous prison in history. Colditz gained international infamy as a prison of war camp during World War 2 for Allied officers who had repeatedly attempted to escape from other camps. Set in the time of World War 2, Macintyre presents a biography of the prison itself, the world detainees built within it and their thrilling escape. Ben Macintyre began the session by saying, “The real story of Colditz is a story about class, race, sexuality, mental health, about many other things that interest us today”. Throughout the session, Macintyre highlighted the theme of honour that was displayed in the story as even the German Officers at Colditz honoured the rules of the Geneva Convention, acknowledging that prisoners had certain rights. Macintyre, who writes mostly about the role of espionage in war, ended the session by saying, “I think I prefer rogues to great men of history or men and women of history.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I just like the underside of history.”</span></p><p class="p2" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Style and Substance</span></b></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Speakers</b>: Tarun Tahiliani in conversation with Shivani Sibal</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Fashion designer Tarun Tahiliani’s book <i>Journey to</i> <i>India Modern</i>, co-written with investigative journalist Alia Allana, navigates the legacy of Indian fashion as a vibrant tapestry, seamlessly weaving together elements of the past and present, tradition and modernity. Tahiliani revealed the paths he took for his craft, and the significance of his luxury design studio in today's world. He remarked that in his experience if three women in a room wear the western outfit, it may lead to a “crisis”, but if three women wear the same saree, because of how the saree drapes on differing body contours, it can look completely different. In conversation with writer Shivani Sibal, Tahiliani shared insights into his explorations in fashion around the globe, his efforts to merge stories across time and space, and the questions he seeks to pose through his designs. Shivani remarked, “I think Indian women have supported the growth of the Indian fashion industry in that they have not adopted an entirely Western approach ever.”<br /><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://bhttps://www.ddsreviews.in/2024/02/jlf-2024-day-2.htmllogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOmRJJuF-7Tw0GyoTEyLu4JZ75141uurkNA7b6ic1s4efAT3QHoTtBHPLHpH00c_UqAzBd30JfAgSg3k_h_pdzU8o9ohoObLALP_6ipjpXnwDW3cT1rbHvoVKeQoLs2yEgtzI3D5kFzyq2wyja5dYh6xboYFPNMXoGE-72ue_0y_2vTsPCws2AgvJrOdo/s4897/Hernan%20Diaz.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4897" data-original-width="3266" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOmRJJuF-7Tw0GyoTEyLu4JZ75141uurkNA7b6ic1s4efAT3QHoTtBHPLHpH00c_UqAzBd30JfAgSg3k_h_pdzU8o9ohoObLALP_6ipjpXnwDW3cT1rbHvoVKeQoLs2yEgtzI3D5kFzyq2wyja5dYh6xboYFPNMXoGE-72ue_0y_2vTsPCws2AgvJrOdo/w266-h400/Hernan%20Diaz.JPG" width="266" /></a></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="p2" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Inspiration to Creation</span></b></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Speakers:</b> Marcus du Sautoy, Hernan Diaz, Vidya Shah, William Dalrymple, Mukesh Bansal, Kanan Gill and Albert Read in conversation with Sanjoy K Roy</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">What serves as the inspiration for the most brilliant thinkers to create? What propels their creative endeavours? How do their dreams transform into reality? The Freedom to Dream is the most precious of all freedoms. Samsung explores the power of innovation and digital artistry to enable new levels of joy through the intuitive skills of its very latest model of the Samsung Galaxy Tab S9 Series. An inspiring panel of artists, writers, musicians, historians, mathematicians and entrepreneurs discussed the many ways in which one can educate, create and conceptualise thought in a constantly transforming world.</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Tomorrow, the Festival is looking forward to start the day off with a magical performance by the Trio One World, a classical crossover project that combines western classical Piano and Indian classical Sitar and Tabla. The third day will feature Pulitzer prize-winning author Kai Bird, whose book <i>American Prometheus </i>was the inspiration behind the 2024 Academy award-nominated film, <i>Oppenheimer</i>; award-winning biographer Nicholas Shakespeare, Sahitya Akademi prize-winner and prolific Hindi writer Mridula Garg, and Festival co-director and renowned author Namita Gokhale, among others.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"><br /></span></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"><br /></span></span></p>Debdatta Dasgupta http://www.blogger.com/profile/12575979550597861075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3578371666134702214.post-34748122992720714622024-02-01T00:00:00.007+05:302024-02-01T00:00:00.245+05:30Read an Excerpt from The Committee Will Kill You Now by JL Lycette<p> </p><div style="text-align: center;">
<h2><a href="https://www.ddsreviews.in/2024/02/committee-will-kill-you-now.html" title="The Committee Will Kill You Now by JL Lycette"><img alt="The Committee Will Kill You Now by JL Lycette Banner" class="aligncenter size-full" height="338" src="https://partnersincrimetours.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/12/committee-will-kill-you-now-jl-lycette-banner-.png" width="600" /></a></h2>
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><h2><i>The Committee Will Kill You Now</i></h2>
<h3>by JL Lycette</h3>
<h4>January 22 - February 16, 2024 Virtual Book Tour</h4>
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<h2>Synopsis:</h2>
<div style="float: left; margin-right: 15px; width: 225px;"><img alt="The Committee Will Kill You Now by JL Lycette" border="0" height="304" src="https://partnersincrimetours.com/wp-content/uploads/forminator/13997_115b15d08b2c7bb7da2712949e71a2f7/uploads/mq4DxbncvsEs-The-Committee-Will-Kill-You-Now-eimage.jpg" style="float: left; margin-bottom: 5px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 15px; margin-top: 5px; margin: 5px 15px 5px 0px;" width="200" /></div>
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<h4>The gripping new book from the author of <i>The Algorithm Will See You Now</i>. Based on the true-life rationing of kidney dialysis in 1960s America, a medical intern in 1992 Seattle tries to leave his painful past behind, only to uncover a shocking truth of thirty years prior and the lasting, generational harm of hidden secrets…</h4>
<p>After a co-intern dies by suicide, a grieving Noah Meier commits an accidental error. In a desperate move to save his patient's life, he covertly seeks help from audacious surgical resident Marah Maddox, igniting a bond between them.</p>
<p>When the hospital is suspiciously quick to sweep everything under the rug, Noah turns to his late father's journal for guidance and makes a chilling discovery, all while trying to stay out of the crosshairs of abusive Dr. Rankel, keen to make an example of Noah. Worse, Rankel clearly has it out for Marah as the only woman in her program.</p>
<p>As the hospital's patriarchal power structures, and the truth about his father's past, threaten Noah and Marah's burgeoning relationship, Noah will have to choose: shoulder his father's devastating legacy or create his own daring future.</p>
<p>The latest sensational page-turner from physician-author JL Lycette, <i>The Committee Will Kill You Now</i> is a riveting historical suspense about the inner workings of the medical world and the personal struggles of those within it.</p>
<p>A thrilling near-historical drama that exposes the dark side of the medical establishment and a must-read for anyone interested in medicine, ethics, and the human struggle for justice.</p>
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<h3>Praise for <i>The Committee Will Kill You Now</i>:</h3>
<p>"A page-turner with heart, <i>The Committee Will Kill You Now</i> will appeal to both doctors and non-doctors alike, and to anyone who’s ever needed to find the courage to stand up for what’s right." <br /><span style="color: #c3ba2a; margin-left: 40px;">~ Hadley Leggett, MD, author of <em>All They Ask Is Everything</em></span></p>
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<h3><i>The Committee Will Kill You Now</i> Trailer:</h3>
<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/yZ-Bi7nkomo?si=cTE1PJA2EMZiCOcp" title="YouTube video player" width="560"></iframe></div>
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<blockquote class="details" style="margin: 20px; padding: 20px;">
<h3>Book Details:</h3>
<p><b>Genre:</b> Medical Fiction, Medical Suspense<br />
<b>Published by:</b> Black Rose Writing Press<br />
<b>Publication Date:</b> November 2023<br />
<b>Number of Pages:</b> 300<br />
<b>ISBN:</b> 9781685133122 (ISBN10: 1685133126)<br />
<b>Book Links:</b> <a href="https://amzn.to/47yy38v" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Amazon</a> | <a href="https://bit.ly/3SFHnDx" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Barnes & Noble</a> | <a href="https://bit.ly/3MGU6Ci" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">BookShop.org</a> | <a href="https://bit.ly/46cC7u3" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Goodreads</a> | <a href="https://bit.ly/3SHaExA" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Black Rose Writing Press</a></p>
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<h3>Read an excerpt:</h3>
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<h4>CHAPTER ONE</h4>
<h6>April 27, 1992<br />Seattle, WA</h6>
<p>The hospital had a saying—you came to work unless you were dead. </p>
<p>Apparently, being dead on the inside didn’t count.</p>
<p>The latter, which Noah had quipped months ago at intern orientation, hadn’t earned him any points with Dr. Artie Andrews, the Program Director. Although his peers had laughed, and he supposed that mattered most.</p>
<p>Humor, his stalwart companion, was nowhere to be found these days. His pre-med-school self, who’d studied literature and philosophy and naively believed medicine a noble art, had become a distant memory. For interns, the drudgery of <i>bodies</i> had become their entire existence—how much their patients pissed, shit, vomited, or bled. Plato could wax all he liked about the separation of body and soul, but most days, Noah had to struggle to even remember his patients <i>had</i> souls, let alone find time to doctor them. Hell, most days, he was pretty sure his own soul had shriveled up and died a few months ago. It had been somewhere around the halfway point of his internship year, when a patient had died and he’d felt <i>nothing</i> when he’d crossed their name off his list. Only another body.</p>
<p>But he had no time for such thoughts this morning. Noah mentally shoved the memory back into its compartment, physically shoved his notes into the pocket of his short white coat, and headed off the Gen Med ward to make his way to Monday morning Resident Report. It didn’t matter he’d been up all night, mandatory was mandatory.</p>
<p>Before he got two steps from the nurses’ station, the sharp voice of Kathy, the ward secretary, rang out from behind her desk. “Dr. Meier, wait. Sign this before you go.”</p>
<p>Noah suppressed the urge to glance over his shoulder, where he instinctively expected to see Dr. <i>Thomas</i> Meier, gifted surgeon, renowned academic—and his late father. Accepting the chart Kathy shoved under his nose, he signed off on the orders he’d missed on his 6:00 A.M. admission. That’s what sleep deprivation did to you. </p>
<p>Behind him, the never-ending rain of the Seattle winter clattered on the windows, fraying his already heightened nerves. He scribbled his name and the time and date—7:50 A.M., 4/27/92.</p>
<p>He handed the chart back, his body already angling away, but Kathy’s voice stopped him in his tracks. “Any update on when Dr. Doherty will be back?”</p>
<p>Noah’s sleep-fogged brain was slow to process her words. “Jasmine Doherty?”</p>
<p>Kathy bobbed her head, the chain attached to her reading glasses glinting as it looped around her neck beneath her permed hair. </p>
<p>Noah squinted at her. A part of his overtaxed brain urged him to catch up with his team or risk being late, something heavily frowned upon, but his curiosity won. “Jasmine’s out?”</p>
<p>Interns didn’t take sick days.</p>
<p>Kathy finished transcribing Noah’s signed orders from the chart and deftly shelved the heavy plastic binder back on the rack before answering with a shrug.</p>
<p>Did this have something to do with the free HIV testing for the homeless project that Noah, Jasmine, and a few of the other interns had been trying to start? The project Dr. Andrews had warned would risk distracting them from their required hospital duties? Had Jasmine gone down to the homeless camp and been delayed? Noah dismissed the uneasy feeling in his gut and said something to appease Kathy. “Maybe she had a family emergency.”</p>
<p>The ward secretary gave him a skeptical glance. </p>
<p>Noah countered with a conspiratorial grin, wielding his familiar shield, humor. “If you don’t already know what’s going on, Kathy, I’m sure you will by noon.”</p>
<p>She rolled her eyes and made a shooing motion with her hands, but he didn’t miss the pleased expression that flashed across her face.</p>
<p>His grin, a shallow thing that didn’t penetrate his hollow core, lingered as he grabbed his coffee and jogged off toward the elevators to catch up with his team, comprising his senior resident, Harper Li, and his co-intern, Colleen Peterson. </p>
<p>Noah found them both outside the University hospital’s east-wing elevators. The early morning light filtered through the stained-glass windows beneath the lobby atrium’s vaulted ceiling, bestowing a halo around them. The sight of his colleagues buoyed his spirits. All he had to do was get through these last few months of internship. Then he’d be able to start practicing more of the medicine he wanted to practice, like bringing free HIV testing to the homeless population. Once they got through internship, they’d become people again instead of indentured servants of the hospital. </p>
<p>From her rumpled scrubs and frizzier-than-usual red hair, Colleen’s call night had been no better than his. They’d been so swamped with admissions he’d hardly seen his co-intern all night. She mumbled to herself, shuffling her index cards. Her freckles stood out on her paler-than-usual face, making her appear even younger than her age, which was somewhere in her mid-twenties. Internship had given the opposite gift to Noah—premature aging. At twenty-eight, gray hairs already sprouted at his temples. Perhaps the only thing he’d inherited from his father, according to his mom, at least.</p>
<p>He closed his eyes and pressed his fingers to them. His father had been too much on his mind of late. The staff calling him “doctor” only spiked his lifelong anxiety about not measuring up. After all, Noah hadn’t yet earned the long white coat of a second-year resident.</p>
<p>It was those damn boxes his mom had asked him to help move last weekend out of the attic of her historic, steep-gabled home on Queen Anne hill. The boxes where he’d discovered his father’s old journal. The journal he’d never known existed and had spontaneously grabbed, tossing it in his car even though he told himself he’d never read it. It would be a waste of time —</p>
<p>“You ready?” </p>
<p>Noah dropped his hand from his eyes.</p>
<p>Harper didn’t wait for an answer before pressing the elevator button. By unspoken agreement, they only allowed themselves the luxury of passive motion in the depths of post-call morning exhaustion—when they’d been on duty over twenty-four hours straight and still had twelve hours to go. </p>
<p>While they waited, Noah had to stop himself from attempting to smooth down some of Colleen’s wild hair. Instead, he held up his coffee, and they touched their paper cups together in a silent toast that acknowledged their mutual suffering. The last time he’d tried to touch Colleen’s hair had earned him the outrage of both the women on his team. He’d meant nothing by it, only he’d come to think of Colleen as the younger sister he’d never had and always wanted. He imagined the close bonds he and his co-interns had formed in the pressure-cooker of residency to be similar to siblings.</p>
<p>This past month on Harper’s service had been one of Noah’s most rewarding of the year. He’d found a mentor, instructor, big sister, and friend in her, all wrapped up in one. He didn’t want the month to end, as it would mean moving on to be assigned to a different R3.</p>
<p>Harper leaned close to speak in his ear in a low voice. “The announcements should come any day.”</p>
<p>Noah shot a glance toward Colleen, but she was fretting over her notes and didn’t appear to have heard. His heart rate sped up. Did everyone know how much he wanted an invitation to the prestigious Osler Society? Or only Harper, the first female member and arguably the most brilliant. Did her words mean he had a shot?</p>
<p>There was the national medical honor society, Alpha Omega Alpha, and then there was Dr. Artie Andrews’ Osler Society, or as it was known around the hospital, “the Society.” </p>
<p>Andrews had started it two decades ago, and it had attained near-mythical status at their university teaching hospital. Any intern or junior resident inducted into the Society would get their top fellowship or faculty placement choice. It had been no surprise to anyone when they’d inducted Harper as an intern.</p>
<p>But no one on the outside knew what actually transpired at their meetings. Noah had asked Harper once, but she’d only muttered, “Primum non nocere.”</p>
<p>“First do no harm?” Noah had asked. “But isn’t that what all of Medicine is about?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, but with Artie, it’s… different,” she had said and shrugged. “It’s hard to explain.”</p>
<p>Noah envisioned them all sitting around Andrews’ office, pontificating about the art of medicine and quoting Latin to each other. Pretentious academics. He’d rather let an E.R. nurse shove a 14-gauge I.V. in the back of his hand. But he wasn’t fooling himself. He wanted to be a part of it, more than anything. To belong. To prove it to the one person he never could. His father.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Excerpt from <i>The Committee Will Kill You Now</i> by JL Lycette. Copyright 2023 by JL Lycette. Reproduced with permission from JL Lycette. All rights reserved.</p>
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<h2>Author Bio:</h2>
<div style="float: right; margin-left: 15px; width: 230px;"><img align="left" alt="JL Lycette" border="0" height="200" src="https://partnersincrimetours.com/wp-content/uploads/forminator/13997_115b15d08b2c7bb7da2712949e71a2f7/uploads/tMY7brWeSYla-author-photo-JL-Lycette-scaled.jpg" style="float: right; margin-bottom: 5px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 15px; margin-top: 5px; margin: 5px 15px 5px 0px;" width="200" /></div>
<p>Jennifer / JL Lycette is a novelist, award-winning essayist, rural physician, wife, and mom. Mid-career, she discovered narrative medicine on her path back from physician burnout and has been writing ever since. She is an alumna of the 2019 Pitch Wars Novel Mentoring program. Her first novel, <a href="https://partnersincrimetours.com/the-algorithm-will-see-you-now-by-jl-lycette/" rel="noopener" target="_blank"><i>The Algorithm Will See You Now</i></a>, was a 2023 SCREENCRAFT CINEMATIC BOOK COMPETITION FINALIST, 2023 READER'S FAVORITE BRONZE MEDAL WINNER in the Medical Thriller category, 2023 MAXY AWARD'S FINALIST - Thriller category, and 2023 PAGE TURNER AWARD'S FINALIST - Best Debut Novel category. <i>The Committee Will Kill You Now</i> is her second novel.</p>
<h3>Catch Up With Jennifer:<br />
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<a href="https://bit.ly/3QKjLv4" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">BookBub - @JL_Lycette</a><br />
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<a href="https://bit.ly/478JKmL" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">facebook.com/Author.JL.Lycette</a></h3>
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Debdatta Dasgupta http://www.blogger.com/profile/12575979550597861075noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3578371666134702214.post-23583142112642296772024-01-29T00:00:00.005+05:302024-01-29T16:57:18.459+05:30Read an Excerpt from Hunted By Proxy by Manning Wolfe<p> </p><div style="text-align: center;">
<h2><i>Hunted By Proxy</i></h2>
<h3>by Manning Wolfe</h3>
<h4>January 15-February 2, 2024 Virtual Book Tour</h4>
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<h2>Synopsis:</h2>
<div style="float: left; margin-right: 15px; width: 225px;"><img alt="Hunted By Proxy by Manning Wolfe" border="0" height="300" src="https://partnersincrimetours.com/wp-content/uploads/forminator/13997_115b15d08b2c7bb7da2712949e71a2f7/uploads/hHhuHwxI5TG7-HuntedbyProxy_eBook_NEW-scaled.jpg" style="float: left; margin-bottom: 5px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 15px; margin-top: 5px; margin: 5px 15px 5px 0px;" width="200" /></div>
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<h4>In this lawyer on the run action suspense, can attorney Quinton Bell hang on to his new life as he hides in plain sight?</h4>
<p><i>Hunted By Proxy</i> takes you on a heart-pounding journey through the life of a criminal defense attorney, whose world, as he knew it, was wiped out by the very client he tried to save.</p>
<p>Quinton establishes a new life and law practice in Houston and thinks he’s outrun the dangerous adversaries who chased him there. Just as he begins to relax, he receives a mysterious note that proves to him that he’s still in danger and running from a powerful and relentless adversary. But who?</p>
<p>With each passing moment, the noose tightens, and he must draw on every ounce of wit to outsmart those who still want him exposed, or worse, dead.</p>
<p>Will Quinton Bell find a way out, or will he forever be a target in a deadly game of cat and mouse?</p>
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<blockquote class="details" style="margin: 20px; padding: 20px;">
<h3>Book Details:</h3>
<p><b>Genre:</b> Legal Thriller <br />
<b>Published by:</b> Starpath Books, LLC<br />
<b>Publication Date:</b> January 2024 <br />
<b>Number of Pages:</b> 300<br />
<b>ISBN:</b> B0CFWWCX7F<br />
<b>Series:</b> <a href="https://amzn.to/450n46x" rel="noopener" target="_blank">Proxy Legal Thriller Series</a>, Book 2<br />
<b>Book Links:</b> <a href="https://amzn.to/3Nzl52N" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Amazon</a> | <a href="https://bit.ly/4716bJG" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Goodreads</a> </p>
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<h3>Read an excerpt:</h3>
<div class="excerpt" style="border-color: 800000; border-style: groove; border-width: 3px; height: 250px; overflow: auto;">
<p>Quinton heaved a box of thick books onto the conference room table in the new Law Office of Quinton Lamar Bell in Houston, Texas. He’d recently moved to The Galleria area around Westheimer and Post Oak and opened a solo practice. Quinton was now what they called a loop lawyer, one who offices around and outside the 610 Loop. It circled the city from Interstate 10 to Highway 45 to Highway 59 surrounding the downtown high-rises poking out of the ground in the middle of the ring. He had been working downtown for the last year but, seeking distance and maybe a little safety from the legal community, found his perfect new office and began to make it his own.</p>
<p>Clients were not hard to come by as Quinton had created a reputation on his last big case, a murder involving the defense of his friend and lover, Joanne Wyatt. That seemed a lifetime ago, and he had become a loop lawyer in part to get a fresh start, but also to protect his former firm, Jamail, Powers & Kent, from his past life in New York City. That’s another story, for another day, but it involved Quinton’s pseudocide off the Staten Island Ferry.</p>
<p>Quinton Lamar Bell was not his real name, it was Byron Douglas, but only he knew that and one other person. A potentially dangerous person. When Quinton had opened his new office, he thought he was the only one on earth who knew he had faked his own death in New York and come to Houston to hide in plain sight. He looked different with a little plastic surgery, and had assumed not only the face, name, and demeanor, but the entire life of a childhood friend. He did so, not because he hated his prior life but because it was too dangerous to live it anymore. Besides, Q, as he’d dubbed his friend and benefactor, no longer needed his name or his face as he had been cremated and sprinkled in the Gulf of Mexico. So, in essence, Quinton had been killed twice, and he wasn’t even dead.</p>
<p>The new Quinton had worked for a downtown Houston firm at the insistence of his faux father, Judge Sirus Bell, who was also now deceased, in order to establish himself as Quinton. When he’d left the downtown firm, on good terms, he’d agreed to split any profits fifty-fifty on the files that were open prior to his departure. Any new cases were all his, even if they were referred by the old firm. It was generous to Quinton. He’d been supported a great deal by the three women partners in his prior office and would not forget their kindness. It was one of the reasons for the separation and move, to protect them, and to get out of their hair. </p>
<p>The women’s firm didn’t really want criminal cases running through their office and Quinton didn’t want the firm to get caught in the crossfire, in the event that his past came back to haunt him. And his past did haunt him. He could never go back. He’d broken the law, lied, cheated, stole, and taken Quinton’s legacy as his own. Now, he went through each day hiding in plain sight and living the life of a dead man.</p>
<p>After Judge Bell’s death, he’d found that he, as Quinton, was the sole heir of the Bell estate. He’d put most of the inheritance into a charitable trust, but had kept one asset, and only one asset. He loved the Bell house in Galveston, a beautiful Victorian home near the beach, that he could not bear to part with. It was the source of many childhood memories with both his friend, Q, and mentor, Judge Bell. </p>
<p>Giving the bulk of the estate to charity was the right thing to do, but if the authorities found out about his true identity, his altruism would not stop them from charging him with crimes from fraud to murder. Yes, murder. That’s the aforementioned part of the long story for another day.</p>
<p>With the help of Judge Bell, Byron had stolen Quinton Bell’s persona, deliberately adapted to his new life in Houston, and felt that he had truly escaped the danger he’d left behind. After a while, it felt to the new Quinton like he’d learned another language and was now immersed in it. He actually became the new Quinton Bell, a fusion of his former self and new persona speaking the acquired language as if he’d been born to it. Still, he’d walked on proverbial eggshells every day for months, finally settling in, to what he thought was a fairly safe place.</p>
<p>That is, until a strange card arrived in the mail at his new office. It revealed his former name, Byron Douglas, shook him to the core, and left him wondering who knew about his past and what they wanted from him. It had been several weeks since the card had been delivered. One side was adorned with a photo of the New York skyline and the Staten Island Ferry. The other side had a cryptic note: “Hello, Byron. I know who you are, and I know what you’ve done. Be seeing you.” </p>
<p>No demands, no further contact, and no requests of any nature. It was like waiting for the proverbial ‘other shoe’ to drop. Was he going to be blackmailed? If so, why send the card? The sender wanted something, but what? Would Quinton one day be arrested without further notice? Law enforcement wouldn’t send a warning. Who was the sender, and what did they have planned for him? </p>
<p>“Be seeing you.” It gave him a chill. Waiting to find out was worse than the many scenarios he imagined would flow from his discovery.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Excerpt from <i>Hunted By Proxy</i> by Manning Wolfe. Copyright 2024 by Manning Wolfe. Reproduced with permission from Manning Wolfe. All rights reserved.</p>
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<h2>Author Bio:</h2>
<div style="float: right; margin-left: 15px; width: 230px;"><img align="left" alt="Manning Wolfe" border="0" height="200" src="https://partnersincrimetours.com/wp-content/uploads/forminator/13997_115b15d08b2c7bb7da2712949e71a2f7/uploads/fPlWGU4IvRuW-Collar-headshot-cropped-copy.jpeg" style="float: right; margin-bottom: 5px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 15px; margin-top: 5px; margin: 5px 15px 5px 0px;" width="200" /></div>
<p>MANNING WOLFE, an award-winning author and attorney residing in Austin, Texas, writes cinematic-style, smart, fast-paced thrillers and crime fiction. Manning was recently featured on Oxygen TV’s: Accident, Suicide, or Murder.<br />
* Manning's legal thriller series features Austin attorney Merit Bridges, including <em>Dollar Signs</em>, <em>Music Notes</em>, <em>Green Fees</em>, and <em>Chinese Wall</em>.<br />
* Manning's new Proxy Legal Thriller Series features Houston attorney Quinton Bell and includes: <em>Dead By Proxy</em>, <em>Hunted By Proxy</em>, and <em>Alive By Proxy</em>.<br />
* Manning is co-author of <em>Killer Set: Drop the Mic</em>, and twelve additional Bullet Book Speed Reads.<br />
As a graduate of Rice University and the University of Texas School of Law, Manning’s experience has given her a voyeur’s peek into some shady characters’ lives and a front-row seat to watch the good people who stand against them.</p>
<h3>Catch Up With Manning Wolfe:<br />
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<a href="https://bit.ly/3GR3gsw" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">BookBub - @ManningWolfe</a><br />
<a href="https://bit.ly/3v7yvga" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Instagram - @manningwolfe</a><br />
<a href="https://bit.ly/41CeLxy" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Twitter/X - @ManningWolfe</a><br />
<a href="https://bit.ly/3GQPypj" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">Facebook - @manning.wolfe</a></h3>
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Debdatta Dasgupta http://www.blogger.com/profile/12575979550597861075noreply@blogger.com0