Book Review: Then Came the Thunder by Rachael Huszar @AnAudiobookworm

 

Author: Rachael Huszar

Narrator: Jenn Lee

Length: 5 hours and 31 minutes

Producer: Audiobook Empire

Publisher: Rachael Huszar

Released: January 20, 2022

Genre: Historical Thriller

 

Book Review: One Will Too Many by PJ Peterson @partnersincr1me

One Will Too Many

by PJ Peterson

March 1-31, 2022 Virtual Book Tour

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One Will Too Many
A Julia Fairchild Mystery #4
PJ Peterson
Finngirl, LLC, December 2021
ISBN 978-1-7335675-8-9
Trade Paperback

From the author—

                  A wealthy banker with a long list of secrets dies.

The bizarre crime scene stumps the local police…

… but a young doctor could be the key to solving the case.

Internist Julia Fairchild encounters banker Jay moments too late – the poor man is near death in his own dining room. At first no one can figure out what killed him, but the coroner soon confirms that it was homicide: Jay died of methanol poisoning, and now a murderer is on the loose. Julia knows how to catch a killer and she can cut through the noise like a scalpel through skin. She agrees to help the understaffed police force solve the case, but each clue only complicates her investigation further.

Can Julia dissect the deadly riddle and nail the perp, or will this be the first time a monster succeeds in giving her the slip?

If you love Louise Penny, Kelly Oliver, and PC James, you need this medical mystery! Find out why fans say, “I love the character Julia Fairchild!”

To my way of thinking, it’s not easy to write a medical-focused mystery without a sense of it being a thriller or suspense and I don’t really agree with the “cozy” label on One Will Too Many. It’s also not especially thriller-ish but I think it fits nicely into the “traditional” category; the amateur sleuth is not just accidentally part of the plot and has some validity to her investigating as well as being welcomed by law enforcement.

Having said that, labels don’t really matter all that much when the difference is so thin and the whodunit here is nicely offered with characters who are particularly well-fleshed out. Julia is, of course, quite good at sussing out potential clues as you might expect in a doctor and she works well with her nephew on the police force. Learning that the wealthy victim, Jay, had a lot of secrets and that his will is likely to be a hefty motive, Julia soon leads the reader down a variety of paths and I admit to being diverted more than once. In a side storyarc, Julia has a new-ish romantic interest, maybe even more than one, but that doesn’t intrude too much on the core investigation.

Ms. Peterson does a fine job of creating tension and her pacing is quite good, always leaving me wanting to keep going to the next page and the next. This was my introduction to the Julia Fairchild series and, while I didn’t feel a lack in not having read the first three books, I’m eager to catch up now.

Reviewed by Lelia Taylor, March 2022.

Purchase Links:
Amazon | Barnes & Noble

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Read an excerpt:

Julia arrived at the Hotel Montpelier just as Drake drove up. She took advantage of his simultaneous presence to make a proper entrance to the celebration in the Hotel’s Grand Ballroom. It had recently been refurbished to its original grandeur from the early 1920’s. She admired the beauty of the ceilings with their Art Deco design, recently uncovered by the removal of a false ceiling from a previous “upgrade.” The beautiful wood floor with exquisite inlaid mosaics shone from a recent floor polishing. The cherry and mahogany woodwork glistened in the light from the elegant crystal chandeliers which had also been hidden until now.

Julia and Drake were greeted by some of the other members of the restoration committee. Drake was the designated master of ceremonies while Julia’s primary duty was to personally welcome as many of the potential donors as possible and say a few words in support of the project. He certainly looked the part tonight in a well-cut black velvet tuxedo. His dark hair was touched with silver—just enough to give him a classy look. He stood tall and proud as he walked through the crowd, nodding to some and saying a word or two to other attendees.

Julia searched the assembled festival attendees for familiar faces as Drake gently guided her to an older man and woman. He placed his hand at the small of her back as he addressed the wealthy couple. “Julia, I’d like to introduce Mr. And Mrs. George Oglethorpe. They have been long-time supporters of the theatre.”

Julia stepped forward a half-step and extended her hand. “I’m Julia Fairchild. I’m honored to meet you. I love our theatre, too.” The woman’s face brightened as she recognized the name. “Of course! Dr. Fairchild. Call me Anna. I’ve heard a lot of good things about you.” She took Julia’s hand in both of hers. “You’re so young and pretty for a doctor.” Julia reddened. She actually felt a little mousey most days, but conceded to herself that she did ‘clean up’ nicely for such events. “Thank you. I was blessed with good genes. How long have you and your husband lived in Parkview?” “My goodness. Forever. Right out of college anyway. George heard about the paper mill here looking for mechanical engineers and applied right away.” She smiled proudly at him. “We love the town and were never inclined to leave once we settled in. Isn’t that right, dear?” Her husband nodded between sips of his drink. “Are you from here?” “Not from Parkview. I grew up down the highway on a small farm. My grandma persuaded me to come home and here I am.” Julia felt her eyes well up as she recalled warm memories of time spent with her grandparents. “Thank you for your support of our lovely theatre. The restoration committee will be sharing the plans for the renovation during the program.” Julia felt Drake’s arm around her waist as he interceded. “Thank you for coming this evening. Please excuse us. I see someone who is clamoring to talk with Dr. Fairchild before the dinner starts.” Drake took Julia’s arm and as they turned around, they found Gregory Lantz and his wife Sandy who had been standing right behind them. “Greg! So good to see you here tonight. Thanks for coming.” They exchanged nods and handshakes. “Julia is standing in for Karen tonight. She’s also supporting the project.” Julia smiled and nodded. Aside from the perfunctory smiles, Julia sensed a tension between the men, and she moved a step away from Drake to better observe them both. Greg stirred his gin and tonic vigorously. “I’ve talked with some of the members of the board at the bank, but I don’t have a definite commitment yet for a donation. I think we can come through for $50,000. But nothing close to the million dollars that everyone seems to think the bank can donate.” “Greg, any amount would be great. I understand it’s been a little tough with the new bank still getting started.” Drake Ashford was the president of the older, long-established Parkview National Bank. He was aware that despite heavy advertising and promotions, the new River City Community Bank was not yet meeting expectations. He was also acutely sensitive to the loss of some of his own banking clients to the new bank, where Greg was Vice President. Greg bristled. “Actually, we’re meeting our numbers and seeing new business every day. I would think you would have noticed already.” He smirked. “We’ve noticed a little change, but we’re prepared to handle it.” Drake took a large swallow of his scotch. “Please excuse us. I have some other people to greet. Talk to you later, Greg.” Drake and Julia moved away. “That man really annoys me,” Drake said under his breath. “He’s so naive. He doesn’t see how Jay is using him. He’s just a ‘yes’ man. But I guess it makes him feel important.” “What do you mean?” Julia asked, nodding and smiling at some of the faces she recognized. She knew he referred to Jay Morrison, recently divorced and head of the new bank. She felt Drake’s hand shaking as he maneuvered her through the crowd. “I’ll tell you later. Too many ears here.” He surveyed the guests nearby. “Let’s see…there’s Warren Pontell and his lovely wife Sarah. He’s talked about making a major contribution. His wife was a theatre actress in her younger days. And they have money to burn.” He turned to Julia and wiggled his eyebrows, à la Groucho Marx. Drake and Julia chatted with the Pontells for a few minutes, using the time to emphasize the benefits of the smaller venue of the “little theatre.” It was designed to be an intimate stage setting with seating for about one hundred fifty people. Until recently, the area had been used for storage and was marginally functional for stage events in its current state. Julia had found herself daydreaming but tuned back in when she heard Mr. Pontell say, “We’d like to donate $50,000 for the little theatre. Perhaps you can find a way to let us have something to say about naming it.” He grinned broadly as his wife beamed. “Warren, that’s wonderful!” said Drake. “I’ll talk with the board of directors about naming opportunities. Let me get back to you on details for your donation. Thank you.” Now grinning, Drake gently guided Julia toward Adam Johns, an influential man in the local union hierarchy, and his wife. He had started working at ESCO Paper Company right out of high school and had worked his way up from the labor pool to an electrician apprenticeship and then to a journeyman electrician. His constituents considered him to be fair and honest. He had an unofficial status in the union as a leader, although he didn’t have an elected or paid position as such. Adam tugged at the neck of his dress shirt and pulled at the bottom of his dark blue waistcoat. The jacket gaped over his generous girth. He looked uncomfortable in his tuxedo. Julia was sure her mother would have said something like “putting perfume on a goat,” but most likely his wife had insisted he dress up for this occasion. He certainly looked impressive at his height of six foot three inches. “Mr. and Mrs. Johns, good evening,” said Drake as he offered his hand. “Do you know Dr. Julia Fairchild? She’s helping to support the Theatre Restoration project as we all are.” “We sure do,” said Adam, returning the handshake. “Dr. Fairchild, you took care of my mom several years back. She was real sick but you got her well and she’s fine now. Thanks to you. In fact, she’s going on a cruise through the Panama Canal with her church group this coming week. She’s always wanted to go on that trip.” “You’re welcome, Mr. Johns. I do remember your mom—Violette, I believe? She’s a lovely lady with a lot of spunk.” Julia shook his hand before turning to his wife. “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Johns.” Mr. Johns turned back to Drake. “Mr. Ashford, some of the guys at the mill want to know if you had talked with our union officials yet about the stock trading going on with our pension funds. And if you know anything, they hope you can tell them. And call me Adam. My wife is Linda.” “Yes, Adam. I talked with a Scott Sowders in Portland. He’s looking into whether those trading fees can be traced back to any individuals. May I call you when I know something more?” “Sure. You can call me at ESCO. The operator knows how to reach me. Thanks a lot, Mr. Ashford.” “You can call me Drake, please. I’ll call you soon and we’ll go from there. Thanks again for being here tonight.” “Hey. It’s an alright party. My wife is always trying to get me to gussy up. It’s more fun than I thought it would be.” He grinned and saluted with his cocktail. Julia saw the auctioneer heading their way and alerted Drake. “I’ll check my lipstick while you talk with him. Where are we sitting?” “Main table,” he said, pointing to the center of the long side of the room. He scowled. “Unfortunately, it appears we’re seated next to Jay Morrison, of all people.” *** Excerpt from One Will Too Many by PJ Peterson. Copyright 2022 by PJ Peterson. Reproduced with permission from PJ Peterson. All rights reserved.

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Author Bio:

 

PJ is a retired internist who enjoyed the diagnostic part of practicing medicine as well as creating long-lasting relationships with her patients. As a child she wanted to be a doctor so she could “help people.” She now volunteers at the local Free Medical Clinic to satisfy that need to help. She loved to read from a young age and read all the Trixie Belden and Nancy Drew books she could find. It wasn’t until she was an adult that she wrote anything longer than short stories for English classes and term papers in others. Writing mysteries only makes sense given her early exposure to that genre. Sprinkling in a little medical mystique makes it all the more fun.

Catch Up With PJ Peterson: www.PJPetersonAuthor.com Goodreads BookBub – @mizdrpj1 Facebook – PJ Peterson

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Book Review: Gambling with Murder by Lida Sideris @LidaSideris @levelbestbooks @partnersincr1me

Gambling With Murder

by Lida Sideris

February 28 – March 11, 2022 Virtual Book Tour

Purchase Link:
Amazon
Coming soon to other retailers

 

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Gambling with Murder
A Southern California Mystery #5
Lida Sideris
Level Best Books, March 2022
ISBN 978-1-68512-086-3
Trade Paperback

A late-night call is all it takes for rookie lawyer Corrie Locke to kiss her day job at the movie studio goodbye, and do what she does best: flex her sweet P.I. skills and go undercover to find a senior who’s missing from a posh retirement community. One small stumbling block: skirting past security to gain inside access to the exclusive Villa Sunset. Time to call in the heavy artillery. Besides former security guard turned legal assistant—now wannabe P.I. –Veera, Corrie relies on a secret weapon: her mother, a surprisingly eager addition to Corrie’s team. Armed with enough attitude and pepper spray to take down a band of Navy Seals, Mom impersonates a senior to infiltrate the Villa, Corrie and Veera in tow. Turns out the job’s not as easy as they’d thought. These seniors have tricks tucked up their sleeves and aren’t afraid of using them.

The action gets dicey as the missing senior case turns into attempted murder by a criminal mind who’s always one step ahead. Corrie’s hot on the trail, but finds more than she bargained for…especially when her mother becomes a target.

When I first started reading this book, something kept niggling at me, sounding familiar. After rummaging around a bit, I discovered that I wasn’t imagining things and had actually read and reviewed the first book in the series back in 2015. I had really enjoyed it so why haven’t I kept up with the series in the past few days years? The only excuse I can come up with is that I just lost track of it.

At any rate, here I am with book #5 and I’m so glad to be back in the fold with Corrie’s small posse of wannabe private eyes. Mom is a new addition because of her ability to con their way into the retirement village and she brings her own wacky determination and zeal to the task at hand. Along with Corrie and Veera, Corrie’s very noticeable assistant and best friend, this is a formidable trio who will dig up the truth and have a high old time doing it.

 

Throw in the shenanigans of a bunch of entitled retirees bent on making the most of their golden years and you have the recipe for a rollicking good time as well as a good puzzle to be solved. I loved the story here just as much as the highly entertaining characters and am only sorry I finished it so quickly. I guess I’ll have to feed my desire for more by catching up with the books I’ve missed—oh, woe us me, more fun books to read!

 

Reviewed by Lelia Taylor, March 2022.

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An Excerpt from Gambling with Murder

Chapter One

Luck be a Lady

I maneuvered around shattered glass, splintered picture frames, and fragments of bubble wrap strewn along the cracked cement floor. Something crunched or crackled beneath my every step. Empty spaces joined hands to form a footpath meandering through the old warehouse. The beam of my flashlight circled around stacks of crates, blankets, old tires— “Ninja One, see anything yet?” Veera Bankhead’s voice sputtered through the walkie-talkie cinched onto my belt. Dressing up like ninjas had been Veera’s idea. To help us blend into the night. We wore matching black tunics over black slacks. The hood hid my long hair. A facemask rendered me incognito. Only the slit across my eyes kept me from tripping. Veera was posted in the parking lot outside to discourage unwelcome visitors. “Looks like a hoarder’s paradise.” I stepped over a pile of well-used sneakers. “Any idea of what we’re looking for?” she asked. “Oh, the usual hidden-in-a-warehouse items. A barrel labeled ‘TNT’. A nondescript briefcase filled with rolls of cash. Dorothy’s ruby slippers would be nice.” By day, Veera and I worked in the legal department of Ameripictures Film Studios. Tonight’s side gig was connected to our day job…by a nearly invisible thread. Props had gone missing from a high-budget movie currently in production. A police investigation was underway, but Veera suspected an inside job. She’d convinced studio security into letting us take a look. An anonymous tip led to a Los Angeles warehouse hidden beneath the 405- freeway. I stepped gingerly over dented soda cans to stay on the path. “We gotta find something,” Veera said. “Our reputation’s at stake.” She didn’t mean our reputation in the legal department. She meant our reputation as quasi-professional, unlicensed private investigators. I had my father to thank for showing me the P.I. ropes. Investigating suspicious deaths was what I did best, with help from Veera. It had earned us a level of respect from the studio security crew. That’s how we got the nosing around for missing props gig. “I still say that new intern is behind the thefts,” Veera said. “He’s been hangin’ out at the prop house every day.” “Isn’t he inventorying the props?” I asked. “So he says,” Veera replied. I had low hopes of finding anything tonight but I had to admit, this was the perfect location to hide stolen goods. A baby elephant could get lost in here. “Did you find out who owns this place?” I asked. “Working on it,” she replied. It didn’t hurt matters that Veera had handled parking lot security before becoming my legal assistant. She had connections far and wide in the Southern California security guard world. I pinned the beam of my light into a dark corner. “That’s strange.” Four large pieces of luggage lay side-by-side, atop a long folding table. Everything surrounding me was in stacks and piles. I quick-stepped closer. The luggage exteriors, aluminum handles, and zippers looked new. Why store unused luggage in a place with worn-out, broken-down stuff? “Oh-oh,” Veera said. “Hold on.” I grabbed a suitcase and slid it closer to me. I shone my light on a combination lock. Next to it sat a small keyhole. Pulling out a paperclip from my pants pocket, I shoved it into the keyhole and jiggled it around. “Two unmarked vehicles drove up,” Veera whispered. We’d parked my car behind the warehouse. I’d left Veera hiding behind a bottle brush shrub near the entry. I popped open the lid of the suitcase. Folded bedsheets lay on top. Easing them aside, I gaped at the blood-red cape with a stylized golden “S” on the back. “It’s Superman.” “The cars parked next to each other,” Veera said. To the side of the cape lay a pillowcase. I ran my fingers over something odd-shaped and bulky inside. I unwrapped it to find a one-of-a-kind, golden gun. “No way.” A cigarette case formed the handle. The trigger was a cufflink and a fountain pen served as the barrel. It was a prop gun from a James Bond film. “Two muscular guys came out of a van,” Veera said. “There’s a third-person taking his sweet time exiting a Prius. Looks to be someone smaller, older by the way he moves. And he’s wearing a dress, which means he could be a female. Headed your way. If there’s a backdoor, I’d use it.” “Can’t. I hit the jackpot.” I spun around. Where to hide? # *** Excerpt from Gambling With Murder by Lida Sideris. Copyright 2022 by Lida Sideris. Reproduced with permission from Lida Sideris. All rights reserved.

 

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About the Author

Lida Sideris’ first stint after law school was a newbie lawyer’s dream: working as an entertainment attorney for a movie studio…kind of like her heroine, Corrie Locke, except without the homicides. Lida was one of two national winners of the Helen McCloy Mystery Writers of America Scholarship Award and a Silver Falchion Award Finalist. She lives in the northern tip of Southern California with her family, rescue dogs and a flock of uppity chickens.

To learn more about Lida, please visit:

www.LidaSideris.com  // Goodreads  // BookBub – @LidaSideris  
 Instagram – @lida_sideris  // Twitter – @LidaSideris  //
Facebook – @lidasideris

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Book Review: Blue Fire by John Gilstrap @JohnGilstrap201 @KensingtonBooks @SDSXXTours

Blue Fire

A Victoria Emerson Thriller Book 2

by John Gilstrap

Genre: Thriller, Suspense

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Blue Fire
A Victoria Emerson Thriller Book 2
John Gilstrap
Kensington, February 2022
ISBN 978-1-4967-2857-9
Hardcover

From the publisher—

John Gilstrap, the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Jonathan Grave novels, continues his acclaimed Victoria Emerson thriller series with Blue Fire. In the wake of a global conflict that has devastated America, one woman must lead—and protect—a community of survivors determined to rebuild all they have lost . . .

They call it Hell Day—a world war that lasted less than twenty-four hours. Nations unleashed weapons that destroyed more than a century’s worth of technology. Electrical grids cannot generate power. Communications and computers cannot run. And the remnants of the U. S. government cannot be depended upon. Those who survived must live as their ancestors did, off a land ruled by the whims of nature.

One-time congressional representative Victoria Emerson has become the new leader of the small town of Ortho, West Virginia. She has been struggling to provide food and shelter for the town’s inhabitants, while coping with desperate refugees. An autumn morning’s calm is shattered when her teenage son sounds the alarm with the cry “Blue Fire”—the code phrase for imminent danger.

A band of National Guardsmen intends to take Ortho and its resources for themselves. They have enough soldiers and firepower to eliminate anyone who dares to stop them. But Victoria swore an oath to defend and protect her people, and she isn’t about to surrender. It’s time to tap into the traditional American values of courage, ingenuity, and determination – and fight fire with fire.

I had the pleasure of meeting John Gilstrap some years ago and had my introduction to his work. (Now, I can’t swear I’m remembering this correctly but I think I am!) At the time, my daughter and I had a bookstore in Richmond, VA, and when John participated in the Crime Wave part of the Virginia Festival of the Book, we were the bookstore handling on-site sales for all the crime fiction authors. And, if memory serves me, he later came to visit our store—but I could be imagining that. All of which is to say that, yes, I might be a little biased because I liked the guy and the first book of his that I read, Nathan’s Run :-).

*

It’s a good thing then that I really got wrapped up in Blue Fire, bias or no. I hadn’t read the first book in the series but that didn’t inhibit my enjoyment in any way. Victoria Emerson is the kind of leader we wish all politicians would be and her strengths become ever more needed and important now that the country has been devastated by global war.

*

What I really appreciate about this story is that it’s a combination of two subgenres I love, post-apocalyptic and crime fiction, the latter focused on how one’s idea of what’s criminal might change in a new world order and on the attack planned by a group of rogue guardsmen on the small town of survivors led by Victoria.

*

I’m endlessly fascinated with what would happen in the event of any kind of apocalypse, especially an EMP, and current tensions in Europe make nuclear hell even more plausible. None of us have lived through such an upheaval of losing all technology and the resultant damage including critical infrastructure, medications, communication—the list goes on and on. Vicky is a survivor determined to protect and provide for her own children as well as others who have banded together and, as a leader she has to make decisions and choices that don’t always sit well.

*

This book kept me up till all hours and, although I’m very accustomed to reading out of order, I think it’s a mistake in this case if only because the story needs to be fully fleshed. I’ve already bought the audiobook of Crimson Phoenix and plan to rectify the situation ASAP.

*

Reviewed by Lelia Taylor, March 2022.

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Add to Goodreads

Purchase Links:

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Crimson Phoenix

A Victoria Emerson Thriller Book 1

Brad Taylor meets The Stand in a riveting novel of suspense kicking off a brand new series perfect for fans of the page-turning novels of A.G. Riddle, Mark Greaney, and Matthew Mather.

“One of the most singular and compelling heroines to come along in years.”—Jeffery Deaver, New York Times bestselling author

“Snaps with action from the very first page.”—Marc Cameron, New York Times bestselling author of Stone Cross and of Tom Clancy’s Code of Honor

From John Gilstrap, the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Jonathan Grave novels, comes Crimson Phoenix—first in the new Victoria Emerson Thriller series. With America brought to the brink of destruction, one woman becomes the last hope of a nation and its people . . .

Victoria Emerson is a congressional member of the U. S. House of Representatives for the state of West Virginia. Her aspirations have always been to help her community and to avoid the ambitious power plays of her peers in Washington D. C. Then Major Joseph McCrea appears on her doorstep and uses the code phrase Crimson Phoenix, meaning this is not a drill. The United States is on the verge of nuclear war. Victoria must accompany McCrea to a secure bunker. She cannot bring her family.

A single mother, Victoria refuses to abandon her three teenage sons. Denied entry to the bunker, they nonetheless survive the nuclear onslaught that devastates the country. The land is nearly uninhabitable. Electronics have been rendered useless. Food is scarce. Millions of scared and ailing people await aid from a government that is unable to regroup, much less organize a rescue from the chaos.

Victoria devotes herself to reestablishing order—only to encounter the harsh realities required of a leader dealing with desperate people . . .

“Just the thing for readers who feel oppressed by the pandemic lockdown.”
—KirkusReviews

“A gripping page-turner.”
—Taylor Stevens, New York Times bestselling author

“An explosive story that keeps your mind churning and pulse racing . . .
Don’t miss this powerful new series from a master thriller writer.”
—Jamie Freveletti, international bestselling and award-winning author

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About the Author

John Gilstrap is the New York Times bestselling author of award-winning action novels including the Jonathan Grave Thrillers and the Victoria Emerson Thrillers. A master of action-driven suspense, his books have been translated into more than 20 languages. He is the recipient of an International Thriller Writers’ Award for Against All Enemies, the ALA Alex Award for Nathan’s Run, and a two-time ITW Award finalist. A nationally recognized weaponry and explosives safety expert as well as a National Shooting Sports Foundation member, John Gilstrap frequently speaks at conferences, events, clubs, youth programs, and military bases. He is a former firefighter and EMT with a master’s degree in safety from the University of Southern California and a bachelor’s degree in history from the College of William and Mary in Virginia. John lives in Fairfax, Virginia.

Website * Facebook * Twitter * Instagram * Bookbub * Amazon * Goodreads

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Book Review: Murder Is Not a Girl’s Best Friend by Rob Bates @robbatesauthor @CamelPressBooks @partnersincr1me

Murder is Not a Girl’s Best Friend

by Rob Bates

February 28 – March 11, 2022 Virtual Book Tour

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Murder Is Not a Girl’s Best Friend
The Diamond District Mystery Series, #2
Rob Bates
Camel Press, February 2022
ISBN 978-1-94207-818-0
Trade Paperback

From the publisher—

Journalist-turned-amateur-sleuth Mimi Rosen is back with her father Max for another action-packed tale of murder and intrigue in New York City’s Diamond District.

A Reverend from Africa has found a sparkling $20 million diamond that he hopes will free his continent from the scourge of blood diamonds. But this attempt to do good soon turns very bad. After the diamond is stolen and leads to a series of murders, Mimi discovers both the diamond and the Reverend have a less-than-sparkling history.

Soon, Mimi is investigating a web of secrets involving a shady billionaire, a corrupt politician, Africa’s diamond fields, offshore companies, as well as an activist, filmmaker, computer genius, and police detective who may or may not be as noble as they appear. Is the prized gem actually a blood diamond?

The diamond found by the Reverend really is a blood diamond and his intentions to use it to combat the dark side of the diamond trade in Africa seems to be doomed. This becomes particularly obvious when murders follow the theft of the jewel and then journalist Mimi Rosen begins to unearth an unholy collection of bad guys engaged in corruption worse than many understand.

 

Mimi is already frustrated by having to work for her diamond seller father rather than pursuing her journalistic career but working in the Diamond District at least gives her some investigative advantages regarding the Hope for Humanity diamond that does indeed embody hope but also deep distress. It soon becomes plain that there’s a lot of dark history in the diamond trade and Mimi, along with the film-maker, Anita, that Mimi is working with discover that trust is difficult to find.

 

Murder Is Not a Girl’s Best Friend is an entertaining read complete with an intriguing plot and interesting characters both good and bad. Although it’s the second book in the series, it stands well on its own and I recommend it.

 

Reviewed by Lelia Taylor, March 2022.

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An Excerpt from Murder Is Not a Girl’s Best Friend

CHAPTER ONE

Mimi Rosen felt terrible. She felt like crap. She was overcome by guilt—the kind that gets lodged in your throat and stays there. Her day at the “Social Responsibility and the Diamond Industry” conference had been draining and dispiriting, as one speaker after another grimly recited the industry’s ills. They acknowledged that conflict diamonds—which fueled civil wars in countries like the African Democratic Republic, or the ADR—were far less of a problem, and many diamond mines benefited local economies. Then came the “but.” As Mimi’s father said, “in life, there’s always a but.” “Beautiful gems shouldn’t have ugly histories,” thundered Brandon Walters, a human rights activist known for his scorching exposés of the ADR’s diamond industry. “This—” he aimed his finger at the screen behind him, “is how ten percent of the world’s diamonds are found.” Up popped a photo of an African boy, who couldn’t have been older than sixteen. He was standing in a river the color of rust, wearing nothing but cut-off jeans, bending over with a strainer. Mimi could see his vertebrae under his skin, feel the sun beating down on him, sense the stress and strain on his back. “That kid is paid two dollars a day for his labor,” Walters declared. “If you sell diamonds, this may not be your fault.” He paused for emphasis. “But it is your responsibility.” Walters had sandy-blonde hair, high cheekbones, a perfectly trimmed goatee, a ponytail that flopped as he talked, and a South African accent was so plummy it sounded affected. He looked to be in his mid-twenties but had the bearing and confidence of someone ten years older. Unlike the other activists, who delivered their speeches in whispery monotones with their eyes glued to the podium, Walters planted his feet firmly at the center of the stage and stood on it like he owned it. He peppered his talk with splashes of theater, dropping his voice to signal despair, or cranking it up to roar disapproval. Mimi didn’t want to close her eyes to his message, but knew she might have to, to preserve her sanity. Diamonds were now how she made her living. She had been working at her father’s company for over a year—a fact she sometimes found hard to believe. She occasionally dreamed of again working as a reporter—the only thing in life she had ever wanted to be. But journalism had become an industry that people escaped from, rather than to. She had hoped the conference would inspire her. She had even convinced her father, Max, to come. Instead, the sessions made her feel depressed and sorry for herself—which didn’t feel right, as she was hearing about extreme poverty in a plush New York City auditorium with the air conditioning cranked, while the summer sun broiled the streets outside. She also knew the industry’s problems weren’t so easy to fix. When Mimi started working at her dad’s company, Max seemed intrigued by her idea of a socially-responsible diamond brand. She was excited to help change the industry. Then the project ran into roadblocks. She never quite determined what a “good” diamond was. What if it was unearthed by one of the diggers Brandon Walters talked about, who earned two dollars a day? Human rights activists condemned that as exploitive. Yet, they also admitted those workers had few other sources of income and would be far worse off if the industry vanished. They didn’t want to kill the business; they wanted to reform it. Mimi wasn’t an expert on any of this—and even those who were didn’t always agree. Mimi spent many nights and weekends researching these issues, and ended up frustrated, as the answers she sought just weren’t there. When her project began losing money, her father started losing patience. Mimi hoped that dragging her father to this conference would reignite his interest. Nope. “These people act like everything is our fault. All minerals have issues.” Like many in the diamond business, Max believed his industry was unfairly picked on. He fixed his yarmulke on his bald head, so it stayed bobby pinned to one of his side-tufts of hair. “I haven’t done anything wrong. I’m only trying to pay my rent.” Max spent most of the conference with his arms crossed, his face toggling between bored and annoyed. If he had a phone, he’d probably spend the day staring at it. But he didn’t, which was another issue. Following Walters’ talk, he leaned over to Mimi. “I should call Channah for my messages.” Mimi gave him her mobile and a dirty look. He had already borrowed her phone six times that day. She considered lecturing her father to get over his stupid aversion to buying a cell phone, so he didn’t constantly pester the receptionist to see who called. But she’d also done that six times that day. Besides, she was intrigued by the day’s final speaker. Abraham Boasberg grabbed the crowd’s attention the moment he stepped on stage. “I believe there is a reason that God put diamonds in the poor countries and made rich countries desire them,” he bellowed, puffing out his barrel chest. “And I’m going to prove it.” Mimi sat up and thought, who was this guy? She soon found out. Boasberg was six feet tall, stocky, bearded, with a bright red yarmulke capping a salt-and-pepper mop of curly hair. He worked in the diamond business, and his words came fast and forceful. Like Brandon Walters, he seemed to savor being the center of attention. He had a mike clipped to his suit and prowled the stage like a panther. His presence filled the auditorium. “This whole conference, we have heard about the problems of our trade. They are real. The people who dig diamonds are part of our industry. They deserve to be treated fairly. “But we must do more than just complain,” he declared, holding up his index finger. “We need solutions! “What if diamonds, which once helped rip the African Democratic Republic apart, could put it back together? What if they built new roads, schools, and hospitals?” He stopped and took a breath, his chest heaving. “What if diamonds became symbols of hope?” Max returned to his seat and handed Mimi back her phone. She was so entranced with Boasberg, she barely noticed. “A few months ago,” Boasberg proclaimed, “a local Reverend in the African Democratic Republic found a one-hundred-and-seventeen-carat piece of rough on his property. It has since been cut into a sixty- six-carat piece of polished, about the size of a marble. It has been graded D Flawless, the highest grade a diamond can get. It’s the most valuable diamond ever found in the ADR. It’s worth twenty million. Easy.” A giant triangular gem appeared on the screen behind him, gleaming like a sparkly pyramid. Max’s eyebrows shot up. This guy was talking diamond talk, a language he understood. “But that is more than a beautiful diamond.” Boasberg declared, sweat beading on his forehead. “That is the future.” “Here’s what usually happens with diamonds in the ADR. In most cases, miners hand them over to their supporter, who’s basically their boss who pays their bupkis. Or, if they’re freelance, they’ll sell them to a local dealer, who pays them far below market value. The miners don’t know how much the diamonds are worth, and they’re usually hungry and just want a quick buck. “And since the ADR has no money to police its borders, most dealers smuggle diamonds out of the country to avoid taxes. As a result, the ADR gains little from what comes out of its soil. Its resources are being systematically looted. “When I met Reverend Kamora, I told him, consumers are turning away from diamonds because they believe they don’t help countries like yours. That further hurts your people. Now, instead of working for two dollars a day, they’ll do the same work for even less. “But what if we can flip the script? What if this diamond helps your country? And what if we let people know that? That will increase its value. It’s documented that people will pay extra for products that do good, like Fair Trade Coffee. It’s the same reason kosher food is more expensive. It’s held to a higher standard. “If we get more money for this diamond, soon every gem from the ADR will be sold this way. We’ll do an end run around the dealers who have robbed the country blind. We’ll turn ADR diamonds into a force for good.” He pivoted to the screen. “Let’s talk about this gorgeous gemstone. We wanted to call it the Hope Diamond. That name was taken.” A few members of the audience tittered. “We’re calling it the Hope for Humanity Diamond. Four weeks from now, we’ll auction it from my office, live on the Internet. We want the whole world to watch. We’ll even sell it in a beautiful box produced with locally mined gold.” On screen, a glittering yellow box appeared. The diamond sat inside it, perched like a king on a throne. “What celebrity wouldn’t want to wear a diamond called the Hope for Humanity?” Boasberg asked. “It will make them look glamorous and morally superior.” The audience laughed. “This diamond—” he exclaimed as spit flew out of his mouth, “will transform a continent.” He stretched out his arms, revealing pit stains the size of pancakes. “So many conferences talk about Africa, but you never hear from people who actually live there. And so, I’ve flown in the Reverend who found the diamond, to talk about what it can do for his country. Reverend Kamora, can you come here, please?” The auditorium grew quiet as small middle-aged Reverend Kamora shuffled to the front. He walked slowly, gripping the guardrail as he climbed the stairs to the stage. When he finally arrived at the microphone, Mimi could barely hear him; his voice was low and delicate, with the soft cadence of a bell. “For years,” he began, “blood diamonds were a curse on my country. Things happened that were hard to describe. They haunt us still.” He paused, as he momentarily got choked up. “The African Democratic Republic has known two decades of peace, but not one minute of prosperity. Like many people in my country, I dig for diamonds for extra money. It’s hard work. I don’t make much from it. But I have no choice. “Many people who work in my country’s diamond fields don’t understand why people in the rich countries buy diamonds. Some believe they are magic. And when I found this gem in a riverbed, sparkling in the sun, I thought God had blessed me with a bit of magic. “But God’s real gift came when I met Mr. Boasberg. He told me that we could hold an auction for this diamond, receive a better price for it, and ensure the proceeds benefit the people of my country. “I hope you tune into the auction of the Hope for Humanity Diamond four weeks from today. Together, we can change my country’s diamonds from a curse to a blessing. That will really be magic.” After a tough day, Mimi felt a smidgen of optimism. When Reverend Kamora finished speaking, her eyes were filled with tears. She peered at her father. He was asleep. After Reverend Kamora toddled from the stage, Boasberg bounded back to answer questions. A man approached the microphone in the middle of the audience. “Mr. Boasberg,” he asked, “what are you getting out of this?” “Nothing,” Boasberg smiled. “I’m not even taking a commission. I see this as the way forward for the business that I love, and a country I care about.” “Mr. Boasberg,” a second person asked, “how do we know the money will go where you say it will?” “Our accounts will be posted online and completely transparent. We’ll account for every penny.” On it went, Boasberg swatting back every question with the grace of a tennis pro. Maybe it was the journalist in her, but Mimi was growing skeptical. Boasberg’s almost-Messianic tone struck her as too good to be true. Just then, she heard a familiar voice at the microphone. It was Brandon Walters, the activist who spoke earlier. “Mr. Boasberg, I’m intrigued by your new initiative,” he said. Mimi braced herself for the “but.” “But when you talk about dealers who’ve robbed the country blind, you didn’t mention you were once partners with the worst offender.” Boasberg’s nostrils flared. He looked down at Walters like he wanted to kill him. The young activist plucked the mic from its stand and spun around to address the audience. “For those unaware, Mr. Boasberg used to own a company with Morris Novak. During the civil war in the African Democratic Republic, Morris Novak was one of the biggest dealers in blood diamonds. He remains a significant player in the industry, though his main business today is money laundering. Diamonds are kind of a sideline. “For years, I’ve sought to expose Morris Novak’s corruption. In response, he has repeatedly threatened to sue me. Our friend Mr. Boasberg could help by supplying information about Novak’s business dealings. He won’t.” He circled back to Boasberg. “So, while it’s admirable you want to play a role in the ADR’s future, maybe first, you should come clean about your past.” There was a smattering of applause. Throughout Walters’ speech, Boasberg appeared ready to erupt, and when it ended, that’s what he did. “First of all,” he boomed, “you are correct, Morris Novak is my former partner. Let me emphasize former. I haven’t worked with him in six years. Is that long enough for you? “Second, who the hell cares? This is old news. The problem with you non-government organizations, you NGOs, is you’re always pointing fingers. Maybe if you stop the holier-than-thou B.S., you could help do something good.” Walters seemed to relish this reaction. “I’m just saying,” he shot back, “that given your history, and that of certain of your, shall we say, ‘associates,’ you’re an unlikely savior for the ADR.” This sent Boasberg into a fury. The bickering grew so loud, even Max woke up. The moderator—a middle-aged woman with silvering hair wrapped in a bun—hurried to the stage and declared question time was over. “Thank you, Mr. Boasberg for that inspiring presentation,” she said, with a jittery squeak. “The conference organizers would like to present you this humanitarian award for your efforts.” The award was likely pre-arranged and came off as awkward with Walters’ question hanging in the air. The moderator rushed through her praise of Boasberg, while he impatiently fingered the marble statue. When she finished, he stormed off the stage. The moderator gamely tried to end the meeting on an upbeat note, saying it had many “impactful takeaways” and “urgent calls to action,” and reminding everyone to attend the post-conference cocktails in the next room. No one listened. They were digesting that final spectacle. So was Mimi. Walters’ question had transformed Boasberg from a passionate plain speaker to another defensive diamond dealer, like her dad. Maybe he was too good to be true. *** Excerpt from Murder is Not a Girl’s Best Friend by Rob Bates. Copyright 2022 by Rob Bates. Reproduced with permission from Rob Bates. All rights reserved.

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About the Author

Rob Bates has written about the diamond industry for close to 30 years. He is currently the news director of JCK, the leading publication in the jewelry industry, which just celebrated its 150th anniversary. He has won 12 editorial awards, and been quoted as an industry authority in The New York Times, The Wall Street Journal, and on National Public Radio. He is also a comedy writer and performer, whose work has appeared on Saturday Night Live’s Weekend Update segment, comedycentral.com, and Mcsweeneys He has also written for Time Out New York, New York Newsday, and Fastcompany.com. He lives in Manhattan with his wife and son.

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Book Review: Margaret Truman’s Murder at the CDC by Jon Land @JonDLand @ForgeReads @partnersincr1me

Murder at the CDC

by Jon Land

February 14 – March 11, 2022 Virtual Book Tour

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Purchase Links:
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Margaret Truman’s Murder at the CDC
Margaret Truman’s Capital Crimes, #32
Jon Land
Forge Books, February 2022
ISBN 978-1-250-23889-4
Hardcover

From the publisher—

 

2017: A military transport on a secret run to dispose of its deadly contents vanishes without a trace.

The present: A mass shooting on the steps of the Capitol nearly claims the life of Robert Brixton’s grandson.

No stranger to high-stakes investigations, Brixton embarks on a trail to uncover the motive behind the shooting. On the way he finds himself probing the attempted murder of the daughter of his best friend, who works at the Washington offices of the CDC. The connection between the mass shooting and Alexandra’s poisoning lies in that long-lost military transport that has been recovered by forces determined to change America forever. Those forces are led by radical separatist leader Deacon Frank Wilhyte, whose goal is nothing short of bringing on a second Civil War. Brixton joins forces with Kelly Lofton, a former Baltimore homicide detective. She has her own reasons for wanting to find the truth behind the shooting on the Capitol steps, and is the only person with the direct knowledge Brixton needs. But chasing the truth places them in the cross-hairs of both Wilhyte’s legions and his Washington enablers.

Years ago, I read quite a few of the mysteries written by Margaret Truman, initially because I was curious about whether this president’s daughter could actually write. As it turned out, she was a decent writer and, more importantly, could craft a mystery and I also thought she had a leg up on other political crime fiction authors, having a very intimate knowledge of that unique environment. I eventually drifted away because the books started to feel formulaic and there were too many other authors I wanted to explore.

Today, I don’t really get why an established author wants to write in someone else’s name but so be it. Jon Land knows what he’s doing and his ability to create a very good story, ripped from the headlines, as it were, shines through.

 

This is a book full of the things that trigger us all today; surely there’s no one left on the planet who doesn’t know what the CDC is and have an opinion about them and many Americans have a love/hate relationship with our politicians. Mr. Land kept the tension high with plenty of surprises and lots of political intrigue, not to mention vivid characters. 

 

I really liked the interplay between Robert Brixton and Kelly Lofton , especially because they both bring a lot of expertise and drive to the table. I wonder if we’ll see this duo again and hope that we will.

 

Reviewed by Lelia Taylor, February 2022.

“A wonderful mystery novel, riveting until the last page.”–Strand Magazine

“A terrific tale that never lets up.”–Sandra Brown

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An Excerpt from
Margaret Truman’s Murder at the CDC

PROLOGUE

December, 2016 The tanker lumbered through the night, headlights cutting a thin swath out of the storm raging around it. “I can’t raise them, sir,” said Corporal Larry Kleinhurst, walkie-talkie still pressed tight against his ear. “Try again,” Captain Frank Hall said from the wheel. “Red Dog Two, this is Red Dog One, do you read me? Repeat, do you read me?” No voice greeted him in response. Kleinhurst pressed the walkie-talkie tighter. “Red Dog Three, this is Red Dog One, do you read me? Repeat, do you read me?” Nothing again. Kleinhurst lowered the walkie-talkie, as if to inspect it. “What’s the range on these things?” “Couple miles, maybe a little less in this slop.” “How’d we lose both our lead and follow teams?” Hall remained silent in the driver’s seat, squeezing the steering wheel tighter. Procedure dictated that they rotate the driving duties in two-hour shifts, this one being the last before they reached their destination. “We must be off the route, must have followed the wrong turn-off,” Kleinhurst said, squinting into the black void around them. Hall snapped a look the corporal’s way. “Or the security teams did,” he said defensively. “Both of them?” And when Hall failed to respond, he continued, “Unless somebody took them out.” “Give it a rest, Corporal.” “We could be headed straight for an ambush.” “Or I fucked up and took the wrong turn-off. That’s what you’re saying.” “I’m saying we could be lost, sir,” Kleinhurst told him, leaving it there. He strained to see through the big truck’s windshield. They had left the Tooele Army Depot in Tooele County, Utah right on schedule at four o’clock pm for the twelve-hour journey to Umatilla, Oregon which housed the Umatilla Chemical Depot, destination of whatever they were hauling in the tanker. The actual final resting place of those contents, Kleinhurst knew, was actually the Umatilla Chemical Agent Disposal Facility located on the depot’s grounds, about which rumors ran rampant. He’d never spoken to anyone who’d actually seen its inner workings, but the tales of what had already been disposed of there was enough to make his skin crawl, weapons that could wipe out the world’s population several times over. Which told Kleinhurst all he needed to know about whatever it was they were hauling, now without any security escort. “We’re following the map, Corporal,” Hall said from behind the wheel, as if needing to explain himself further, a nervous edge creeping into his voice. He kept playing with the lights in search of a beam level that could better reveal what lay ahead. But the storm gave little back, continuing to intensify the further they drew into the night. Mapping out a route the old-fashioned way might have been primitive by today’s standards, but procedure dictated they avoid the likes of Waze and Google Maps out of fear anything web-based could be hacked to the point where they might be rerouted to where potential hijackers were lying in wait. Another thump atop the ragged, unpaved road shook Hall and Kleinhurst in their seats. They had barely settled back down when a heftier jolt jarred the rig mightily to the left. Hall managed to right it with a hard twist of the wheel that squeezed the blood from his hands. “Captain . . .” “This is the route they gave us, Corporal.” Kleinhurst laid the map between them. “Not if I’m reading this right. With all due respect, sir, I believe we should turn back.” Hall cast him a condescending stare. “This your first Red Dog run, son?” “Yes, sir, it is.” “When you’re hauling a shipment like what we got, you don’t turn back, no matter what. When they call us, it’s because they never want to see whatever we’re carrying again.” With good reason, Kleinhurst thought. Among the initial chemicals stored at Umatilla, and the first to be destroyed at the chemical agent disposal facility housed there, were containers of GB and VX nerve agents, along with HD blister agent. The Tooele Army Depot, where their drive had originated, meanwhile, served as a storage site for war reserve and training munitions, supposedly devoted to conventional ordnance. In point of fact, the military also stored nonconventional munitions there in secret, a kind of way station for chemical weapons deemed too dangerous to store anywhere else. The normal route from Tooele to Umatilla would have taken just over ten hours via I-84 west. But a Red Dog run required a different route entirely off the main roads in order to avoid population centers. The point was to steer clear of anywhere people resided to avoid the kind of attention an accident or spill would have otherwise caused, necessitating a much more winding route Hall and Kleinhurst hadn’t been given until moments prior to their departure. A helicopter had accompanied them through the first stages of the drive, chased away when a mountain storm the forecasts had made no mention of whipped up out of nowhere and caught the convoy in its grasp. Now two-thirds of that convoy had dropped off the map, leaving the tanker alone, unsecured, and exposed, deadly contents and all. Kleinhurst’s mouth was so dry, he could barely swallow. “What exactly are we carrying, sir?” Hall smirked. “If I knew the answer to that, I wouldn’t be driving this rig.” Kleinhurst’s eyes darted to the radio. “What about calling in?” “We’re past the point of no return. That means radio silence, soldier. They don’t hear a peep from us until we get where we’re going.” Kleinhurst watched the rig’s wipers slap at the pelting rain collecting on the windshield, only to have a fresh layer form the instant they had completed their sweep. “Even in an emergency? Even if we lost our escorts miles back in this slop?” “Let me give it to you straight,” Hall snapped, a sharper edge entering his voice. “The stuff we’re hauling in this tanker doesn’t exist. That means we don’t exist. That means we talk to nobody. Got it?” “Yes, sir,” Kleinhurst sighed. “Good,” said Hall. “We get where we’re supposed to go and figure things out from there. But right now . . .” His voice drifted, as he stole a glance at the map. Suddenly Kleinhurst lurched forward, straining the bonds of his shoulder harness to peer through the windshield. “Jesus Christ, up there straight ahead!” “What?” “Look!” “At what?” “Can’t you see it?” “I can’t see shit through this muck, Corporal.” “Slow down.” Hall stubbornly held to his speed. “Slow down, for God’s sake. Can’t you see it?” “I can’t see a thing!” “That’s it, like the world before us is gone. You need to stop!” Hall hit the brakes and the rig’s tires locked up, sending the tanker into a vicious skid across the road. He tried to work the steering wheel, but it fought him every inch of the way, turning the skid into a spin through an empty wave of darkness. “There!” Kleinhurst screamed. “What in God’s name,” Hall rasped, still fighting to steer when a mouth opened out of the storm like a vast maw. He desperately worked the brake and the clutch, trying to regain control. He’d been out in hurricanes, tornados, even earthquakes. None of those, though, compared to the sense of airlessness both he and Kleinhurst felt around them, almost as if they were floating over a massive vacuum that was sucking them downward. He’d done his share of parachute jumps for his airborne training and the sensation was eerily akin to those first few moments in freefall before the chute deployed. He remembered the sense of not so much being unable to breathe, as being trapped between breaths for an absurdly long moment. The rig’s nose pitched downward, everything in the cab sent rattling. The dashboard lights flickered and died, the world beyond lost to darkness as the tanker dropped into oblivion. And then there was nothing.

CHAPTER 1

“The hand of God is upon You! He is my shepherd and I shall not want!” Those were the last words high school sophomore Ben McDonald heard before the shooting started. He and the other students clustered around him from the Gilman School in Maryland were on a school field trip to the Capitol Building from their Baltimore prep school, the first such trip taken since academic life returned to a degree of normalcy following the endless coronavirus nightmare. Everyone had shown up in their school uniforms, the buses had left on schedule, and the students felt like pioneers, explorers blazing a trail back into the world beyond shutdowns and social distancing. The reduction in Capitol tour group size was still in force and had necessitated the two bus-loads of students to be divided into five groups of fifteen, give or take, three chaperones allotted to each. Ben and his twin brother Robbie’s group had gone first and they had found themselves lingering on the Capitol steps, taking pictures and chatting away with their local congressman and senator who’d come out to greet and mingle with the students on the steps at the building’s east front. “Why are you still wearing a mask?” one of them had asked the congressman, but Ben had already forgotten the answer. He remembered checking the time on his phone just before he heard the first shots. Ben thought they were firecrackers at first, realizing the truth a breath later when the screams began and bodies started flying. “I am doing the Lord’s work! I am a sacrifice to his word!” Somehow Ben gleaned those words through the screams and incessant hail of fire. The shots were coming so fast he wasn’t sure if the shooter was firing on semi or full auto. The boy never actually saw him as more than a shape amid the blur before him, enveloping his vision like a dull haze. The thin sheer curtain drawn over his eyes didn’t keep him from recording bodies crumpling, keeling over, tumbling down the steps. The force of a bullet’s momentum slammed a classmate into him, sparing Ben the ensuing fusillade that turned the other boy’s back into a pin cushion. My brother! The panic and shock of those initial seconds had stolen thought of Robbie from him. He wheeled about, covered in the blood of boy who had dropped off the scene. “Robbie!” Did he cry out his name or only think it? The steps around him looked blanketed in khaki and blue, pants and blazers that made up his Gilman uniform. The sound of gunfire continued to resound in his ears, but he wasn’t sure the shooter was still firing because no more bodies seemed to be falling. People were running in all directions, crying and screaming, Ben remaining frozen out of fear for his brother. “Robbie!” He saw his brother’s sandy blond hair draped down from one of the marble steps onto another. Nothing else at first, just the hair. Maybe he had dove atop a friend who’d been wounded to spare that kid more fire—that was Robbie. But there was no one beneath Him, and . . . And . . . He wasn’t moving, his arms stretched to the sides on angles that looked all wrong. Ben dropped to his knees next to Robbie, his pants sinking into pooling patches of blood which merged and thickened beneath him. He felt something pinching him along right side of his ribcage and saw his blue shirt darkening with a spreading wave of red in the last moment before he collapsed next to his brother. *** Excerpt from MURDER AT THE CDC by Jon Land. Copyright 2022 by Jon Land. Reproduced with permission from Jon Land. All rights reserved.

 

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About the Author

 

JON LAND is the USA Today bestselling author of fifty-eight books, including eleven in the critically acclaimed Texas Ranger Caitlin Strong series, the most recent of which, STRONG FROM THE HEART, won the 2020 American Fiction Award for Best Thriller and the 2020 American Book Fest Award for Best Mystery/Suspense Novel. Additionally, he has teamed up with Heather Graham for a science fiction series that began with THE RISING (winner of the 2017 International Book Award for best Sci-fi Novel) and continues with BLOOD MOON, to be published in November of 2022. He has also written six books in the Murder, She Wrote series of mysteries and has more recently taken over Margaret Truman’s Capital Crimes series, with his second effort, MURDER AT THE CDC, to be published in February of 2022. Jon is known as well for writing the film DIRTY DEEDS, a teen comedy starring Milo Ventimiglia and Zoe Saldana, which was released in 2005. A graduate of Brown University, he received the 2019 Rhode Island Authors Legacy Award for his lifetime of literary achievements.

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Book Review: The Union by T.H. Hernandez @TheresaHernandz @AnAudiobookworm

Title: The Union
Author: T.H. Hernandez
Series: The Union Series, Book 1
Narrator: Alexa Elmy
Publisher: Theresa Hernandez
Released: Nov. 19, 2021
Genre: Fiction; Young Adult

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The Union
The Union Series #1
T.H. Hernandez
Narrated by Alexa Elmy
Theresa Hernandez, November 2021
Downloaded Unabridged Audiobook

 

After global warming and a second civil war devastated the former United States, two different societies rose from the ashes – the Union, a towering high-tech utopia, hugging the perimeter of the continent, and the devastated, untamed midsection known as the Ruins.

Seventeen-year-old Evan Taylor has an easy, privileged life in the Union. What she doesn’t have is any idea what to do with the rest of her life. She only knows she wants to do something meaningful, to make a difference in the lives of others.

When she’s kidnapped and taken into the Ruins as a pawn in a dispute involving her boyfriend, Bryce, her ideal world is turned upside down. What she learns while in the Ruins shakes her faith in everything she’s ever known, from Bryce to her family and even the Union itself.

Now Evan must choose whether to stay with Cyrus, the sexy, resourceful survivor who believes she’s in the Ruins for a reason, or return to the only life she’s ever known. But when she stumbles upon a dangerous plot that threatens both worlds, her decision could tear her apart.

It’s been a while since I’ve read any post-apocalyptic and/or dystopian books, mainly because I guess you could say I got obsessive. Okay, I greatly overindulged to the point of being saturated 😄. Anyway, this one piqued my interest, especially since I was being offered the audiobook, and I’m SO glad I decided to join the tour.

Evan’s story is downright enthralling, aided by the author’s vivid worldbuilding so that I understood from nearly the beginning what her young life is like and the restrictions placed upon the populace by the powers that be…and some of the consequences of flouting those restrictions. If there was anything I still don’t quite get it’s why the teens go on this sort of walkabout in the first place but that doesn’t really matter.

Shortly after Evan goes on her trip with her best friends Lisa and Colin, later meeting up with her crush, Bryce, Evan is kidnapped by a pair of very unsavory characters and her real adventure begins. Eventually, a new dude, Cyrus, enters the scene along with his family and she begins to learn the truth, the REAL truth, about the Ruins, the supposedly barren area outside of the Union where only the dregs of America’s former society live. This is when Ms. Hernandez’s story truly takes off and I was listening to my audiobook as often and long as I could. And then comes a whopper of a twist, not entirely believable but exciting nonetheless.

Speaking of the audiobook, narrator Alexa Elmy was an excellent choice. Her voice is young enough that she can easily carry off teen girl voices but mature enough that she does a more than decent job with males. I couldn’t always differentiate between characters but, no matter, the prose always let me know who was speaking.

So, thanks to an intriguing story and very engaging characters, I thoroughly enjoyed my return to this subgenre and, while there are occasional flaws, I’m hooked again. Can’t wait to listen to the next book!

Reviewed by Lelia Taylor, February 2022.

I received this audiobook as part of my participation in a blog tour with Audiobookworm Promotions. The tour is being sponsored by T.H. Hernandez. The gifting of this audiobook did not affect my opinion of it.

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T.H. Hernandez is a published author of young adult novels. THE UNION, a post-climate change dystopian adventure, was a finalist in the 2015 San Diego book awards in the Young Adult Fiction category. SUPERHERO HIGH, an urban scifi teenage romance, set in San Diego, about the offspring of the world’s superheroes. Her first young adult contemporary, co-written with Jennifer DiGiovanni, PROM-WRECKED, is published through Entangled Teen.

She thrives on coffee, peanut butter-flavored anything, Doctor Who marathons, Bad Lip Reading videos, and all things young adult, especially the three young adults who share her home.

When not visiting the imaginary worlds inside her head, you can find her in usually sunny San Diego with her husband, three teenage spawns, a bearded dragon, a couple of cats, and Artemis, a neurotic rescue mutt.

Alexa is a NYC based actor and voice over artist. Born in Connecticut, Alexa has been creating art in all its forms since childhood. She graduated from Fordham University with a BA in Theatre and a concentration in Performance. Alexa previously trained at the London Dramatic Academy (UK), the Stella Adler Studio of Acting (NYC), the New York Film Academy, and the Greenwich Performing Arts Studio.

She is pursuing performance opportunities on the stage, screen, and in audio. Her recent acting credits include the tv show Shattered (Investigation Discovery), Innards (Troma Ent.), Ray Gun Say0nara (New Ohio Theatre) and a voiceover for Google. Alexa’s other talents include playwriting, painting, playing piano, and singing. Her favorite play is Oil by Ella Hickson and her favorite genre is comedy.

She is represented by Innovative Artists and Stefanie Talent & Entertainment.

Q&A with Author T.H. Hernandez

• Tell us about the process of turning your book into an audiobook.
  • I’ve been wanting to turn this series into audiobooks for awhile now, but with the pandemic and my ever-increasing time spent at home instead of out and about, I figured now was the right time. But I had no idea where to begin.
    Queue online writing conferences in 2020. I attended one where two narrators broke down the process into easy steps I knew I could complete. They also explained the pros and cons of the various ways to bring my audiobook to life.
    Finally, in 2021, I was ready to begin the process. I signed up on ACX and put my book up for audition, but I just wasn’t connecting with any of the samples. Frustrated, I did my own search, putting in search parameters for what I was looking for. I stumbled upon two amazing narrators and asked them if they’d be interested in auditioning. Luckily they did, but the moment I heard Alexa Elmy read in Evan’s voice, I knew I had my narrator!
    Alexa has been amazing. She’s an experienced narrator and really held my hand through everything. I firmly believe without her by my side, The Union would still not be an audiobook.
• Was a possible audiobook recording something you were conscious of while writing?
  • Actually, no, believe it or not. When I was drafting, I didn’t really think much beyond the eBook and paperback formats. Even though I’m a devoted audiobook listener, this didn’t occur to me, because it seemed so far beyond what I was capable of doing. I’m a writer. I write. Both for my day job and my hobby. I put words on the screen, not in the air. But now that I’ve been through the process, you can be sure, this will be in the back of my mind with every future book I write.
• How closely did you work with your narrator before and during the recording process? Did you give them any pronunciation tips or special insight into the characters?
  • It’s more like Alexa guided me than the other way around, but I’d say we worked closely together. I had no idea how quickly she’d turn the recordings around. She was always waiting for me to listen and approve the chapters. I had a few things that came up during the process that interfered with me getting things done faster. As a seasoned professional, I only had a handful of pronunciation tips to ask of her. And because this wasn’t her first rodeo, she asked me for some background on my characters. As an avid plotter, I had details ready for her. I think she perfectly captured the essence of all my characters in her narration.
• Were there any real life inspirations behind your writing?
  • I conceived of the idea behind The Union series back in 2008, when weather changes were getting to the point that we couldn’t ignore them. But it was some of the driest weather in San Diego history in 2010 that made me take the idea of climate change to extremes, and what would happen if people went to war over their disagreements of whether climate change was natural or influenced by man-made causes.
• How do you manage to avoid burn-out? What do you do to maintain your enthusiasm for writing?
  • I haven’t had much of a problem with this yet. I write for my day job, but it’s not particularly fascinating stuff. Marketing content, proposals, web content, etc. So it’s fun to roll up my sleeves in the evenings and weekends and write really fast-paced action instead of product differentiators.
• Are you an audiobook listener? What about the audiobook format appeals to you?
  • Very much so. I started back in the early days when books were on tape, then CD, and the early days of MP3 books. I used to drive over 30 miles to and from work every day. I loved being able to listen to a book during my commute. Made the drive a lot less frustrating. Now I listen when I’m knitting, walking, or doing mundane chores. It’s a great way to get more “reading” in and entertain myself when I’m doing boring tasks.
• Is there a particular part of this story that you feel is more resonating in the audiobook performance than in the book format?
  • I think some of the more dramatic, emotional scenes come to life in a way in the audiobook that they may not on the printed page. There’s an immediacy in the spoken word that can’t be ignored. You can slow down when you’re reading, but the narration draws you into the tense nature of the scene and won’t let you go.
• If you had the power to time travel, would you use it? If yes, when and where would you go?
  • Oh, absolutely!!! I’m intrigued by time travel more than just about any other scifi concept. Doctor Who is one of my favorite shows. If I could only go to one time and place, and not go to lots of places, I’d love to go back and relive my daughter’s birth. That was the most magical day of my life.
• If this title were being made into a TV series or movie, who would you cast to play the primary roles?
  • This is hard, because the actors I envisioned when I wrote the book a long time ago, are far too old to play teens now. I don’t really have new actors in mind.
• What do you say to those who view listening to audiobooks as “cheating” or as inferior to “real reading”?
  • I’d say they’re incorrect. As someone who does both, there are books I’ve read and books I’ve listened to, and I have to really think long and hard to remember which ones I listened to and which ones I read. A good story is a good story. The words are sucked into your brain, it’s just the pathways to get them there – either your eyes or your ears – that differ. I don’t think it matters beyond that. Plus, there are people who have difficulty reading due to poor eyesight or dyslexia, and audiobooks are everything to them. I can’t imagine why anyone would try to make one type of book inferior to another.

 

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