Return to the streets and alleys of Victorian London, where the game is
afoot once again! The Great Detective, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, and his
steadfast companion Dr. Watson are back for ten new cases, spanning the
length of the quintessential detective’s illustrious career. Beginning while
Holmes was still a green investigator in Montague Street, this collection
encompasses the 1880s and the 1890s, up to the dawn of the new
century. Walk with Holmes as he puzzles over the problem of a drunken
teetotaler, celebrates an old English Christmas at the Red Lion, tracks down
the Camberwell poisoner, and experiences the horror in King Street. If
you’ve been pining for new traditional, canonical Sherlock Holmes tales, Ten
Steps from Baker Street is the collection you’ve been waiting for.
About the Author
Thomas A. Burns, Jr. is the author of the Natalie McMasters Mysteries. He
was born and grew up in New Jersey, attended Xavier High School in
Manhattan, earned B.S degrees in Zoology and Microbiology at Michigan State
University and a M.S. in Microbiology at North Carolina State University. He
currently resides in Wendell, North Carolina with his wife and son, four
cats and a Cardigan Welsh Corgi. As a kid, Tom started reading mysteries
with the Hardy Boys, Ken Holt and Rick Brant, and graduated to the classic
stories by authors such as A. Conan Doyle, Dorothy Sayers, John Dickson
Carr, Erle Stanley Gardner and Rex Stout, to name a few. Tom has written
fiction as a hobby all of his life, starting with Man from U.N.C.L.E.
stories in marble-backed copybooks in grade school. He built a career as
technical, science and medical writer and editor for nearly thirty years in
industry and government. Now that he’s retired to become a full-time a
novelist, he’s excited to publish his own mystery series, as well as to
contribute stories about his second-most favorite detective to the MX Book
of New Sherlock Holmes Stories.
Publisher: Boutique of Quality Books (BQB Publishing)
April 1979: Ken Verrier and his wife, Sam, return to Liberia to buy diamonds. They did not return to get caught up in a rice riot and a coup d’etat. But that’s what happens. Ken witnesses and unwittingly participates in a period of Liberia’s tumultuous yet poorly documented history—the overthrow of the Tolbert presidency and ultimately the end of the Americo-Liberian one hundred thirty-three years of political and social dominance.
THE DUNG BEETLES OF LIBERIA
2019 Grand Prize Winner – Red City Review
Based on the remarkable true account of a young American who landed in Liberia in 1961.
The blend of fictional action and nonfiction social inspection is simply exquisite, and are strengths that set this story apart from many other ficitonal pieces sporting African settings. – D. Donovan, Midwest Book Review
NOTHING COULD HAVE PREPARED HIM FOR THE EVENTS HE WAS ABOUT TO EXPERIENCE. Ken Verrier quickly realizes the moment he arrives in Liberia that he is in a place where he understand very little of what is considered normal, where the dignity of life has little meaning, and where he can trust no one.
It’s 1961 and young Ken Verrier is experiencing the turbulence of Ishmael and the guilt of his brother’s death. His sudden decision to drop out of college and deal with his demons shocks his family, his friends, and especially his girlfriend, soon to have been his fiancee. His destination: Liberia—the richest country in Africa both in monetary wealth and natural resources.
Author Daniel Meier describes Ken Verrier’s many escapades, spanning from horrifying to whimsical, with engaging and fast-moving narrative that ultimately describe a society upon which the wealthy are feeding and in which the poor are being buried.
It’s a novel that will stay with you long after the last word has been read.
A retired Aviation Safety Inspector for the FAA, Daniel V. Meier, Jr. has always had a passion for writing. During his college years, he studied History at the University of North Carolina, Wilmington (UNCW) and American Literature at The University of Maryland Graduate School. In 1980 he published an action/thriller with Leisure Books under the pen name of Vince Daniels.
Dan also worked briefly for the Washington Business Journal as a journalist and has been a contributing writer/editor for several aviation magazines. In addition to BLOOD BEFORE DAWN, he is the author of its prequel, the award-winning historical novel, THE DUNG BEETLES OF LIBERIA, as well as 2 other highly acclaimed novels published by Boutique of Quality Books (BQB Publishing).
Publisher: Boutique of Quality Books (BQB Publishing)
April 1979: Ken Verrier and his wife, Sam, return to Liberia to buy
diamonds. They did not return to get caught up in a rice riot and a coup
d’etat. But that’s what happens. Ken witnesses and unwittingly participates
in a period of Liberia’s tumultuous yet poorly documented history—the
overthrow of the Tolbert presidency and ultimately the end of the
Americo-Liberian one hundred thirty-three years of political and social
dominance.
2019 Grand Prize Winner – Red City Review
Based on the remarkable true account of a young American who landed in
Liberia in 1961.
The blend of fictional action and nonfiction social inspection is simply
exquisite, and are strengths that set this story apart from many other
ficitonal pieces sporting African settings. – D. Donovan, Midwest Book
Review
NOTHING COULD HAVE PREPARED HIM FOR THE EVENTS HE WAS ABOUT TO EXPERIENCE.
Ken Verrier quickly realizes the moment he arrives in Liberia that he is in
a place where he understand very little of what is considered normal, where
the dignity of life has little meaning, and where he can trust no one.
It’s 1961 and young Ken Verrier is experiencing the turbulence of Ishmael
and the guilt of his brother’s death. His sudden decision to drop out of
college and deal with his demons shocks his family, his friends, and
especially his girlfriend, soon to have been his fiancee. His destination:
Liberia—the richest country in Africa both in monetary wealth and natural
resources.
Author Daniel Meier describes Ken Verrier’s many escapades, spanning from
horrifying to whimsical, with engaging and fast-moving narrative that
ultimately describe a society upon which the wealthy are feeding and in
which the poor are being buried.
It’s a novel that will stay with you long after the last word has been
read.
I’d always known that one could get into trouble just standing on a street corner, but never like this. We had just finished a late breakfast at a new Lebanese restaurant on Gurley Street in center city Monrovia and were actually standing on the corner of Gurley and Benson when a crowd—more of a roaring mob—swept down the street like a tidal bore. Judging from the signs and posters coming toward us, the throng seemed to be heading in the direction of the Executive Mansion. We watched for a moment, fascinated, just as one might stare at a growing flood, then realized, too late, that we were caught up in this human deluge. We tried to run, but we were already submerged in the tumbling waters of human flesh and the roar of human voices.
Sam and I glanced at each other. “What the hell?” All we could do is lock arms and flow with the mob.
I had returned to Liberia because I needed to raise a lot of cash quickly, and the best way I could do that was to drop in on some of my old friends in the diamond business. It was the beginning of the wet season in West Africa—not the best time to arrive or, in fact, to do anything there. My wife, Sam, had insisted on coming with me. I told her I didn’t think it was a good idea—Sam is one of the toughest people I know. You just don’t say no to her, not even a maybe. Then, too, I knew she was better at this sort of thing than I was.
It had been twelve years since Sam and I were in Africa, but Sam appeared not to have aged a single day. She still had the same thick red hair that she had cut short for the trip. It would be easier to manage in the heat and humidity of Liberia. Her eyes were still clear and green with the same laugh wrinkles at the corners, and the attractive bridge of freckles across her nose and upper cheeks had not faded. I knew that with her intelligence and insight we had a much better chance of succeeding.
The flights to Liberia had been long and arduous despite Pan Am’s latest jet transport airplanes. Sam and I learned a new term on this trip: “jet lag.” We experienced it by first falling asleep during the taxi ride to the Ambassador Hotel. Then, after a surreal check-in at the hotel, we went up to our room in a dreamlike state and, without removing our clothes or taking a shower or any of the normal things people do before retiring for the night, collapsed onto the bed and immediately fell deeply asleep until early the next morning when our unexpected adventure began.
The noisy mob, brandishing posters reading, “Out with Tolbert!” “Stop Oppression Now!“ “We Want Rice!” swept us up into their superheated midst, and carried us along like two pieces of entwined flotsam. We tried but could not move against the flow. Sam and I and began to move laterally through the crowd like two small animals trying to swim across a rushing river.
The noise was deafening until I heard the gunshots in the distance, and the crowd grew silent for a very brief moment. Then screaming started, drowning out all other sounds except the staccato rhythm of automatic gunfire. Sam and I fell facedown onto the pavement, making ourselves as flat as possible. A man, an older man with gray hair, fell on his back in front of us, blood spurting from the front of his head like a small red fountain. As his blood pressure dropped, the gushing slowed to a trickle and the man lay dead. Blood covered his face, slowly filling his right ear. A woman tripped over us and fell, shrieking, still holding on to her protest sign.
Finally, the firing stopped. Soldiers ran toward us, rifles in hand. I couldn’t make out what they were saying. They stopped along the edge of the street and shouted at us. They seemed to want us to leave, and made aggressive waving motions with their free hands. Several people stood up, hesitated as though waiting for something to happen, then started to run. There was no more firing. I looked over at Sam. Her red hair was disheveled and her face was contorted into a snarl, and through gritted teeth she shouted, “I wish I had my goddamn Uzi!”
“I think they want us to go!” I hissed back to her. “I’m making a run for it. Are you ready?”
She nodded. We stood up slowly. The soldiers, now nearby, were motioning for us to move. I took Sam’s hand and we started running. By this time, most people had gotten to their feet; that is, those who were not dead or badly injured. We ran with the crowd, stopping only once to help someone who had fallen. After that, we didn’t stop running until we got to the Ambassador Hotel several blocks away. The front doors were locked, but people were inside, crouching behind chairs and flowerpots.
“Let’s try the back!” I shouted.
We ran around to the beach bar. The patio was deserted. The entrance to the interior bar was also locked—of course it would be. I picked up a barstool and raised it to smash the glass door. Just as I got the stool over my head, the back door opened slightly and Joe, the bartender, peeked out from inside.
“Mr. Ken,” he said quietly from the partially opened door, “please don’ do dat. Ya know, it be expensive to get glass.”
I pulled the door fully open with a jerk, nearly yanking Joe out onto the pavement. Sam and I rushed in and closed the door behind us. Joe stayed next to me the whole time and quickly locked it.
“Well, if it isn’t ‘Set-em-up Joe’!” I exclaimed. “I’ve never been happier to see anyone in my life! But you don’t think these locked doors will keep them out, do you?”
“Yah ah do. For dhey is notin’ fo’ dem here. Dhey after food. Dhey starving and dhey after Tolbert’s head on a stick. Dhey don’t wan notin’ else. So, why you hee, Mr. Ken. It be almos’ ten yee now. You come to fly again?”
“Long story, Joe. Long story.”
About the Author
A retired Aviation Safety Inspector for the FAA, Daniel V. Meier, Jr. has
always had a passion for writing. During his college years, he studied
History at the University of North Carolina, Wilmington (UNCW) and American
Literature at The University of Maryland Graduate School. In 1980 he
published an action/thriller with Leisure Books under the pen name of Vince
Daniels.
Dan also worked briefly for the Washington Business Journal as a journalist
and has been a contributing writer/editor for several aviation magazines. In
addition to BLOOD BEFORE DAWN, he is the author of its prequel, the
award-winning historical novel, THE DUNG BEETLES OF LIBERIA, as well as 2
other highly acclaimed novels published by Boutique of Quality Books (BQB
Publishing).
England, 1609. Matthew did not trust his friend, Richard’s stories of Paradise in the Jamestown settlement, but nothing could have equipped him for the privation and terror that awaited him in this savage land.
Once ashore in the fledgling settlement, Matthew experiences the unimaginable beauty of this pristine land and learns the meaning of hope, but it all turns into a nightmare as gold mania infests the community and Indians become an increasing threat. The nightmare only gets worse as the harsh winter brings on “the starving time” and all the grizzly horrors of a desperate and dying community that come with it.
Driven to the depths of despair by the guilt of his sins against Richard and his lust for that man’s wife, Matthew seeks death, but instead finds hope in the most unexpected of places, with the Powatan Indians.
In this compelling and extensively researched historical novel, the reader is transported into a little-known time in early America where he is asked to explore the real meanings of loyalty, faith, and freedom.
EXCERPT
Chapter 8, MONOCANS
P 113
The night slowly yielded, as it always does, to happy daylight. Never was I so happy to see it come. The dark, strange shapes slowly became bushes, or the trunks of trees covered with vines, or they disappeared altogether—mere night shadows. All manner of birds awoke and greeted the day with their particular songs. The sun warmed and dried the ground which yielded a sweet, wild scent.
The Lieutenant himself came to fetch us from our post, saying to me that we were less than a day’s march from the land of the Saponi, and there we might expect to bargain for fresh victuals and peaceful relations. So, after breakfasting on more dried beef, we continued our march along King James River, going further into the interior of this strange land.
The men had begun to grumble about the value of our undertaking and openly doubting that any of us would return alive. Lieutenant Webster did his best to appease them but, as the day wore on, their complaints grew stronger. The Lieutenant ordered a halt. He reckoned that we were well out of the land of the Monacans, and ordered camp to be made on a height next to the river. There were many hours of daylight left, and he ordered our best marksmen, of which I was not one, to go into the woods and kill the fattest deer they could find..
The Lieutenant himself went in search for whatever fruits the land would provide. He soon returned with his hat and shirt full of berries which looked similar to English strawberries but with a sweeter, juicer taste. We heard a musket report not too far off and, in less than half an hour the marksmen returned, bearing a large male deer strung on a carrying pole.
Every man in the camp, including myself, was most happy over the prospect of fresh meat. We set about dressing the deer and constructing several roasting pits. In a short while we had the best cuts of the venison sizzling over glowing wood coals. The unusable parts of the animal we buried away from our campsite. To clean ourselves of the blood and animal fat, we bathed and frolicked, like schoolboys, in the running cool waters of the river.
When the meat was done, we sat around the fire, naked as Indians except for a loincloth which the Lieutenant demanded that we wear. We feasted on well cooked meat until we could not force another mouthful down. We then lay by the fires, gorged as the most gluttonous of Romans, and instantly fell asleep. I hardly gave a thought to whatever Indians might be lurking about.
About The Author
A retired Aviation Safety Inspector for the FAA, Daniel V. Meier, Jr. has always had a passion for writing. During his college years, he studied History at the University of North Carolina, Wilmington (UNCW) and American Literature at The University of Maryland Graduate School. In 1980 he published an action/thriller with Leisure Books under the pen name of Vince Daniels.
He also worked briefly for the Washington Business Journal as a journalist and has been a contributing writer/editor for several aviation magazines. In addition to, Bloodroot, he is the author of the award-winning historical novel, The Dung Beetles of Liberia that was released in September 2019 and the highly acclaimed literary novel, No Birds Sing Here in April 2021.
England, 1609. Matthew did not trust his friend, Richard’s stories of Paradise in the Jamestown settlement, but nothing could have equipped him for the privation and terror that awaited him in this savage land.
Once ashore in the fledgling settlement, Matthew experiences the unimaginable beauty of this pristine land and learns the meaning of hope, but it all turns into a nightmare as gold mania infests the community and Indians become an increasing threat. The nightmare only gets worse as the harsh winter brings on “the starving time” and all the grizzly horrors of a desperate and dying community that come with it.
Driven to the depths of despair by the guilt of his sins against Richard and his lust for that man’s wife, Matthew seeks death, but instead finds hope in the most unexpected of places, with the Powatan Indians.
In this compelling and extensively researched historical novel, the reader is transported into a little-known time in early America where he is asked to explore the real meanings of loyalty, faith, and freedom.
About The Author
A retired Aviation Safety Inspector for the FAA, Daniel V. Meier, Jr. has always had a passion for writing. During his college years, he studied History at the University of North Carolina, Wilmington (UNCW) and American Literature at The University of Maryland Graduate School. In 1980 he published an action/thriller with Leisure Books under the pen name of Vince Daniels.
He also worked briefly for the Washington Business Journal as a journalist and has been a contributing writer/editor for several aviation magazines. In addition to, Bloodroot, he is the author of the award-winning historical novel, The Dung Beetles of Liberia that was released in September 2019 and the highly acclaimed literary novel, No Birds Sing Here in April 2021.
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