Tag Archives: Suspense

Rising Wind: Ice and Bone Blitz

 

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Rising Wind Series, Book Two

 

Action / Suspense / Mystery Cross Genre

Date Published: May 2021

Paleontologist Dr. Secora James is still reeling from injuries sustained in the previous summer’s mountain top battle and the adoption of Monta, an Andean orphan. Her best friend, Gideon Yellow Thunder, has something important to discuss. Still, before she can listen, Secora receives a desperate call from a fellow paleontologist, Billy Riggins, who’s under attack at a mammoth site in Western Washington.

Secora travels from Montana with Monta to find out if Billy is dead. Will her growing knowledge of his taboo discovery and the accumulation of indisputable proof also threaten her life and that of her tiny daughter? Where is the skeleton? Gideon, shaken by the realization Secora will always be rushing away from him, leaves town to help a client solve a mystery in remote Western Montana. There he meets Kamal, the owner’s son, and caretaker Jake Lansing.

The three men are attacked by a dead-eyed assassin who wounds Kamal, then seals them inside a cold, wet mine. Jimmy Lizardeye, a Lakota Wichasha Wakan and Gideon’s close friend and mentor, asks Secora to meet him near West Glacier. Jimmy is worried; he is unable to reach Gideon by phone or in spirit. If he and Secora can track the victims down, can any of them rebound from the cave-in and hypothermia?

A few days later, Secora hears from the university’s Anthropology department; her sister, Iris, and good friend Jane have disappeared with their team of students into the Peruvian Yungas. She must leave for South America with Jimmy and a university-sponsored team, including two treacherous companions. What about little Monta?

Secora’s parents are away traveling teaching, the babysitter can’t handle an extra child for an entire week, and she can’t leave the baby with a stranger. They must embark on another dangerous journey together.

Can Secora survive?

Will her baby be safe? Her circle of family and friends is critically important to her, yet they’ve all seemingly disappeared in a matter of days. Will she survive personal tests, assassins, and terror birds? Can she manage the loss of those closest to her?

Thrilling events cause bonds to strengthen throughout her spiritually and culturally diverse extended family.

Other Book in the Rising Wind Series:

Rising Wind: The Thunder Beings cover

 

 

Rising Wind: The Thunder Beings

Rising Wind Series, Book One

Published: April 2021

When impassioned paleontologist Secora James is summoned to South America to confirm or dispel rumors of a creature long-thought extinct, she lands herself in more trouble than she had ever imagined.

Secora knows that the Mapinguari, a giant ground sloth that rivals King Kong for size, is probably just a local myth dreamed up by the indigenous tribes. Or is it? Gideon Yellow Thunder is Montana’s top real estate broker and is perfectly content with his modern life, choosing to leave behind his Lakota heritage in order to lead a life of wealth and success. But when he starts having visions of bison on the open prairie, he feels compelled to act… Now two separate lives are on a collision course as Gideon sets off for the jungles of Brazil to find a woman he’s never met and protect the sacred beings he’d long given up believing in— the Thunderbirds. Could they be real after all? Or are they just a myth? Gideon’s about to find out in the adventure of a lifetime, where everything he’d pushed aside is determined to leave its mark on his life. Hoka hey! It’s a good day to die.

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About the Author

Diane Olsen

Diane Olsen is the prolific writer and award-winning author of her debut book titled; “Ancient Ways: The Roots of Religion,” a Bronze Medal Winner awarded by Christian Illuminations Book Awards.”

Diane’s debut release of “Ancient Ways” is thought-provoking and an informative look at the development and evolution of religion throughout time and a well-considered concept – the idea of a connective thread of monotheistic faith throughout history from the birth of human creation. Now comes her new release and book series titled; Rising Wind: The Thunder Beings” and Book Two of Rising Wind: Ice and Bone (Books 1 & 2Series.)

Adapted from an original screenplay she had several years ago, she has now written it in book form for her readers to enjoy as an amazing Multicultural Fiction, Action-Adventure Mystery with the essence of ‘God’s Hope for all of Humanity’ woven throughout this series.

Born in Colorado Springs, Colorado, she now lives in the beautiful Pacific Northwest in Washington state. She was an undergrad at Colorado State University Ft. Collins: Pre-vet med, Anthropology, then attended and received her BA and MA at the University of Montana, Missoula: Anthropology, Archaeology, and Paleontology. She was a Graduate Teaching Assistant for two years.

Diane has raised two sons Andrew and Gavin, has four grandsons Dylan, Brayden, AJ, and Asher. She is an animal lover and enjoys living in Washington State with her two girls (doggies), “Ladybug and Charlie,” along with two ancient “retired” Zebra, finches, one African Black-footed Cat. She has raised sheep and goats and about 40 other species of critter over the decades.

Diane enjoys writing, reading good books, spending time with her grandkids, and cooking. A few of her favorite books are ‘The Book of Certitude (Kitab-i-Iqan), The Upanishads, and The Great Initiates.’

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The Disposables Blitz

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The Obscurité de Floride Trilogy, Book 2

 

Suspense

Date Published: Jun 1, 2021

Publisher: Épouvantail Books, LLC

 

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In the jungles of coastal Mexico, twelve-year-old Kazu Danser is on the run, his bloody past haunting and attempting to be his ruination. Hot on his heals is journalist Carson Staines, a deadly madman full of blood thirst and greed, determined to first chronicle Kazu’s criminal life – and then end it. Staines must nail him down, dead or alive; the boy being worth a huge payoff.

Making a perilous crossing of the border into the States, Kazu fights for his life, desperately heading east. Entering sunburnt Florida, he teams up with a gang of Floridian street urchins, known to the authorities as, “The disposables.”

With Staines not letting up on the chase, Kazu and the other youths go on the run, fighting for their lives.

Can the Disposables and Kazu survive?

What will they have to do to stop the murderous and resourceful monster mowing through them to get to his reward?

The second part of the book takes place in the shadows of Florida, where street urchins fights every day to survive, both bodily and in spirit. In contrast to the tropical beaches and teeming vacationers, the children will do anything necessary to keep their heads above the perilous deep waters.

About the Author

Greg Jolley

Greg Jolley earned a Master of Arts in Writing from the University of San Francisco and lives in the very small town of Ormond Beach, Florida. When not writing, he researches historical crime, primarily those of the 1800s. Or goes surfing.

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Parker’s Choice Blitz

 

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Suspense, Mystery

 

Published: March 2021

Publisher: Southern Fried Karma

Framed for murder and on-the-run an innocent man is forced to become an outlaw. Hiding from his troubled past in Atlanta, Parker can’t escape his enemies. His former business partner blackmails him and when she’s killed, Parker becomes the chief suspect, but he fears his wife did it. His boss coerces him to commit fraud, but he and his clever colleague, Sabrina, uncover evidence that his elusive birth father is involved in the scheme and Parker’s innate moral code is stressed to the limit. Parker must solve a riddle within a quandary within a puzzle within a mystery to save the lives of those he loves.

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Excerpt

 

Three Years Ago

Parker watched her on the doorbell camera on his phone. It shouldn’t have to end this way; his future shouldn’t depend on the risky odds that he was right about what would happen tonight. He weaved around over-sized furniture and peered through the small square window in his front door. She wore a red, V-neck sundress exposing two inches of cleavage, reminding Parker once again that this woman’s sexual magnetism radiated like heat waves off a blacktop road. Her body an eye-catching confluence of tanned, sweeping curves, her hair long and blonde, and her eyes sapphire blue, she was a woman in her prime who Parker knew enjoyed the attention of men of all ages. He wiped his sweaty palms on his shorts and opened the door. On-time and all smiles, Meredith walked into his arms as though she were his lover arriving for a romantic evening.

Awkwardly, Parker extricated himself from her embrace. He led her to the dining room in his cramped beach bungalow where the papers to dissolve their partnership in Advanced Fraud Analytics, LLC were laid out on the table.

You surprised me by agreeing to this,” he said.

She shook her head, and her long hair flew off one shoulder and onto the other. “Time to get off the investor-schmoozing merry-go-round and kill our ‘baby.’”

Sad it’s come to this, but it’s a good deal for you. You’re relieved of all company debts and obligations and indemnified against any lawsuits; in return, I retain full ownership of the fraud detection algorithms and computer programs. Okay?”

She tapped the stack of papers with her ruby nails but did not take a seat. “Let’s do this outside. It’s such a lovely evening.”

Outside, Parker knew he would lose a measure of control, but he had planned for this situation. He swept up the legal documents and carried them to the pebbled glass table in his lanai. Five feet beyond the wall of screens, a swimming pool filled the backyard that ended in a gentle slope to the Intracoastal Waterway. A wooden shed, in which his center-console boat sat in a lift sling, flanked his rickety dock and to the right of the pool a large, four-person hot tub squatted on a slab, shielded from his neighbor’s sight by thick hibiscus. The sun was a dying ember on the horizon, so Parker turned on the underwater pool lights. It wasn’t a romantic gesture; he wanted a little indirect lighting.

Do you have any wine, Parker? May as well make this pleasant.”

He hesitated; he had no weapons in the house. “White or red?”

White if you have it.”

He nodded. “You can read the documents while I’m pouring the wine.”

When he returned to the patio with a chilled glass of Chablis and a sweating bottle of Tecate, he found Meredith standing at the edge of the pool with her naked back to him. She stepped out of red thong panties and flipped them with her foot onto the Cool Crete surface surrounding the pool where her outer garments and lacy bra were strewn in disarray. Naked, she grinned at him over her shoulder. He returned her smile as he admired the perfect contours of her high ass and the smooth tapering of her legs.

Come on in,” she said. “You can’t have a free show.” Then she dove into the pool.

If he didn’t suspect that she wanted him in the water so he’d be less mobile, Parker would have been tempted to join her. He squatted at the edge of the pool and extended the glass of wine to her. He couldn’t resist watching her wade toward him, her breasts parting the rippled water like the prow of a ship plowing through ocean waves. She gave him permission with her eyes, but she couldn’t resist a quick glance over her shoulder at the bottom of his property where it met an inlet off the Intracoastal Waterway. He followed her gaze and saw it then, a white Boston Whaler silently drifting up to his dock. He had thought the odds would be in his favor, and now they weren’t. She noted the look of recognition on his face and made a grab for her purse at the edge of the pool, but Parker was quicker. He snatched the unusually heavy bag and tossed it into the deep end of the pool. Then he kicked her clothes into the water.

Shrieking, “Help! Rape!” Meredith climbed out of the pool and dashed into the house.

A rangy man in military fatigues, wielding a double-barrel shotgun as though it were a natural extension of his hand, leapt onto the dock and advanced toward Parker.

Get the fuck off my property,” Parker snarled.

The man raised the shotgun with one hand as Parker ducked to evade the blast that shattered the sliding glass doors at the back of the house. Bent at the waist, Parker hustled into the protective shadows at the side of his house. Cowering behind his hot tub, he watched the man slowly approach in a stealthy semi-crouch, like a big game hunter stalking his prey. The terror Parker felt was what an antelope feels when it is about to be eaten alive by a pride of hungry lions. Now would be good time to rescue me.

When the hunter reached the hot tub and crept around the far side, Parker shuffledclockwise to remain on the opposite side. He took shallow breaths through his nose to mask the sound of his breathing as he listened to the blood coursing through his carotid artery—whoosh, whoosh. Where is she?

When they had made half a turn around the hot tub, and the predator’s back was to the boathouse where she had been hiding, he saw her emerge in the crepuscular light, fifteen feet away on his dock, and assume the shooter’s stance she’d been taught at the gun range. She never said a word, gave the hunter no warning, just fired her compact Beretta once, and the man crumpled onto the Cool Crete surface with a thud and a rush of expelled air. That hadn’t been the plan. She was only supposed to balance the threat Parker suspected Meredith had posed. She wasn’t supposed to shoot anyone. But Meredith had out-schemed him. It’s so easy to get these things wrong.

A scan of the house’s back windows revealed no sign of Meredith. Parker motioned for the woman to hurry into the shadows and put a finger to his lips—don’t talk. The wounded man moaned softly, and Parker’s quick glance confirmed that he was semi-conscious and neither moving nor watching. Parker took the woman’s pistol and shoved her toward the neighbor’s property. The snowbirds who owned the place were away enjoying the Canadian summer during the Florida off-season.

Run,” he whispered.

She did as she was told. He counted to twenty—one Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi—then he dialed 9-1-1.

About the Author

Mike Nemeth


Mike Nemeth is an Army vet and former high tech executive who lives in suburban Atlanta with his wife, Angie and their rescue dig, Scout. He is the author of the Amazon bestselling and award-winning novels “Defiled” and “The Undiscovered Country.” Creative Loafing Atlanta named him Best Local Author for 2019.

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Concrete Clockwork Blitz

 

 

The Philanthropist, Book 1

 

Suspense

Published: March 2021

Ex-military operative Lottie Nightshade is enjoying civilian life helping her widowed sister raise three teenagers. When a last-minute job interview turns out to be blackmail, her peaceful days are over. Lottie is given two choices, and the least deplorable of them is doing wetwork for an eccentric millionaire.

Philanthropist Dane Harrington has no option but to blackmail Lottie Nightshade. Dane was contracted to terminate a bomber who threatened to level a new arena in St. Paul, Minnesota. The stakes are too high to trust the time-critical mission to anyone but a skilled operative, and Dane knows Ms. Nightshade will not do the job willingly.

When the bomber realizes he’s been targeted for extermination, the hired killer is already closing in on him. The only way he’ll live to trigger the arena’s destruction is by stopping Lottie Nightshade.

Lottie feels the bomber’s cold stare watching her every move as the timer ticks closer to detonation. When he sets off a series of explosions and people begin to die, Lottie realizes she may need to give up her own life to end the bomber’s.

Excerpt

Loud ringing jerked Lottie out of her dream. The papers on her chest slid onto the bed as she sat up and looked around for the source.

The sound came from her backpack. One of her burner phones? Lunging for the bag, she dumped the contents on her bed and picked up the live one.

Hello?”

Is this the woman who handed out pictures of the old man?” The female voice sounded jittery. “I have information for you, but you have to meet me right now.”

Lottie stood; the phone pressed to her ear. It had to be one of the hotel or restaurant staff she’d given Balfour’s photo to.

Can you just tell me…”

You promised money.” Was she crying? “Meet me at the RestRight motel downtown, room 528. I need the cash. Right now.”

Okay, I’ll meet you, but not there.” Lottie checked the time. 9:15 PM. She couldn’t risk losing the contact, but she wouldn’t walk into a trap. “No hotel, though. Meet me inside the train station on Kellogg. You know where that is?

The woman sucked in air three times “Um, yeah, okay, where?”

Inside the front door, to the left side there are bathrooms. The women’s room. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

Hurry. Please.” She ended the call.

Lottie jumped off the bed and used her phone to call the security team. “I need a car. Right now.” She grabbed the tactical bag with her phones and guns, the rucksack with her disguises, and the cash Harrington had given her, and stuffed it all into her backpack.

Got it.” A woman’s voice. “Head west down the alley to the fourth garage after yours, the one with the green lightbulb.”

I need a body cam and comms.”

Roger.”

She relayed the meeting place. “Get a team there now, the security crew. Low profile but armed.”

Already on their way.”

She ended the call. Harrington’s team knew exactly what was happening. Did they listen in on every call she made and received?

Why hadn’t Harrington told her? Why hadn’t she realized that earlier? She should have known he’d keep her under a microscope.

Lottie stopped and breathed for a minute, checking off everything she needed to bring, everything she needed to do. Walking toward the root cellar exit, she dialed Harrington’s number on one of the disposables. After their confirmation routine, he asked, “Yes?”

I got a tip off one of the photos. I’m going to meet her now.”

Details.”

Lottie gave him the info as she walked down the dark alley toward the green light.

Your body cam, they’ll feed it live to me. I have to jump.” Harrington ended the call.

Lottie stepped into the open side-door of the garage. Stone held a small device which he attached to Lottie’s waistband. “When you enter, turn full-circle to scan the room so we get the lay.” He tipped his head. “I didn’t need to tell you that, did I.”

Lottie held back a smirk.

A woman approached. “Earpiece.”

Lottie put the tiny speaker in her ear and held out her hand. “Car fob.”

Lottie slid into the driver’s seat of the pantyhose-colored car and rolled down the window. “What’s the team’s 20?”

Five minutes out.”

The garage door rolled upward.

Stone leaned close. “We’re right behind you.”

Lottie shifted and drove out of the garage. She needed to go. Fast. Before the caller had a chance to change her mind.

As she raced along side streets, she tucked a gun into her waistband and one in her boot. She put a disposable phone in her pants pocket.

She pulled into a Security Only parking spot in front of the station and walked up the steps to the huge front doors. Running through her prep, she cleared her mind, and pinpoint focused.

Stealthy at the front door.” Stone’s voice in her ear bud. “Caller already in the designated room.” The woman was here already.

By the time she stood outside the women’s room, she was a rock. She pushed the door open and put her foot out to stop the door from closing. She looked behind it. Nothing.

On the far side of the room, a short woman with dark, shoulder-length hair gestured Lottie into the room, her movements jerky, her eyes wild, red, like she’d been crying. She wore a baggy t-shirt and shorts, flip-flops on her feet.

Lottie went on full alert. “Pull up your shirt, turn in a circle. All the way up to your neck.” Lottie needed to check her for explosives and weapons.

She did as she was told, stumbling once, then froze and stared at something.

Around again, please. Slower.” She performed the turn again. Her shorts were too tight to conceal anything. “Pull up your hair now and turn again.” She was clean.

Turning her body, Lottie let the camera see what she was looking at. Two toilet stalls, empty. Further into the room, two sinks on one side and on the other wall a plastic baby changing table that held a small, propped-up tablet.

No window, drop ceiling, the flimsy kind.

Lottie stepped into the room and let the door close behind her.

You called me?”

The woman stood in front of the changing table looking at the tablet. She nodded, not looking at her.

Tell me what you know.” Lottie kept her voice soft to calm the woman.

He.” The woman pointed to the tablet, her hand shaking.

Shit. Was she saying the man in Lottie’s photo was someone online? This would be a waste of time. Lottie spoke slowly. “Where is the man?”

I’m here Lottie.” A deep male voice. From the tablet.

Chills ran down her spine.

Concrete Clockwork phone


About The Author

Laura Breck


I’ve written more than 40 books in my career, and I’m very excited to have a new pen name, and a new genre – Suspense! My hot new series, The Philanthropist, features books that bring you Gripping Suspense Outside the Law. I’m sure you’ll find them as unique and interesting as I do.

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Thieves Tour

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The Obscurité de Floride Trilogy

 

Suspense

Date Published: March 1, 2021

Publisher: Épouvantail Books

From Tropea, Italy to Michigan and Florida, the thieves Molly and April Danser are on the run, trying to escape from an enraged ex-US Marshal. He is hell bent on stopping them once and for all, his twisted black heart fired up for revenge and their total destruction. Will the sisters elude his blood-soaked hunt? They have their smarts and resource but have never faced a pursuit like this.

Can they somehow put an end to his blood lust?

What will they have to do to save themselves from his powerful and deadly claws?

The hunt is on…

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EXCERPT

Chapter Twenty-Nine

 

A Day to Do

  

April woke at first light, seeing she had slept on top of the bed instead of climbing in under the blankets. After putting the coffee percolator on the burner, she went and checked the boat’s position at the lower helm. Starting the engines, she steered southeast in the northward Gulf Stream and watched the blue swells until the boat was pretty much in the same location as the day before.

            “At least eat,” she instructed herself, it being twenty-four hours or more since her last meal. Opening a can of stew, she ate it cold with a spoon while sipping coffee. Looking at the closed laptop at her elbow, she hesitated to reach for it.

            “Only one way to deal with fear.” She opened the lid and started the computer.

Her fingers unsteady above the keys, the vision from the previous day’s nightmare came fully into view. The big dark doorway at Klave’s. Her imagination ran with and gave her the rolling door crashing down and up fast like steel teeth chomping, chewing.

“Back off.” Her shoulders shuddered, and she barked at the vignette.

Opening a secure internet browser, she launched the messaging application.

After addressing an email to Allison, she froze for a minute, her fingertips quivering. The three hardest words she ever typed displayed.

 

AprilDid she die?

 

Hitting send, she stared at those three words, waiting for the reply that she couldn’t will Allison to answer.

 

***

 

Sometime later, she opened a browser alongside the messaging application where her question to Allison still floated without an answer. The local television stations had previously recorded ‘on scene’ footage ripe with frightful images of Klave’s with the breathless voices of newscasters. There were no details of any worth.

            Opening the online Daytona Beach News-Journal, the story was in the banner.

 

Three Killed in a Possible Attempted Robbery

 

April read that David Klave was declared dead on the scene. She learned that Molly’s pal, Dennis, was also murdered, evidence suggesting that he was trying to cover and protect another victim. No other names were offered, pending notification of next to kin. One man had been shot twice and was expected to survive. He was being attended to in the ICU at Memorial Medical Hospital. There was nothing about the third victim. No mention of Molly or her status.

She saw her own name given as one of the ‘persons of interest.’

Klave’s employees were quoted as saying that the suspect had a long face that was injured. He had driven off in a late model red Corvette, heading north.

She read three more news reports in the Ormond Beach, Orlando, and St. Augustine newspapers, the body count making the story a headliner. There was no additional information, only a recap and worthless commentary.

She closed the browser and looked to the messaging application.

No reply from Allison.

She sent the text again and waited ten long and painful minutes.

Leaving the table for the flying bridge, she grabbed a bottle of water and a package of the saltines she had seen her sister snacking on. The light went out over the middle of the galley as she left, and she made a mental note to put in a fresh bulb.

Up top, the breeze was sweeping away the heat of the day. She checked her location, fired the engines, and spent the next hour staring at the ocean until she had the boat back in place.

Climbing down the ladder, she went inside and saw that Allison had not replied.

“My beautiful Molly…” she held her eyes closed, “… I’m still hoping.”

She spent the rest of that day at the lower helm, getting up every half hour to look for a message from Allison.

As the sun set at her back, she went inside to look again. The darkening galley reminded her to find a package of light bulbs and a step-ladder. She found both in the click-lock supply closet and had the dead bulb out and was poised to twist in the new one when it slipped from her fingers. It shattered, and she got a new one from the closet, along with the dustpan and broom. The second bulb went in easily, and she climbed down to sweep up the aluminum cone and shards.

The messaging application pinged.

Instead of hurrying to it, she stalled, fearful of the news. She finished up the sweeping and stepped to the table, the ball of her right foot landing on a stabbing missed piece of glass.

“Brilliant.” She felt the deep cut as she swung around on the bench and looked to the message screen.

 

AprilDid she die?

AliDon’t know.

AprilFind out.

AliI’m on it. It is a fuck storm here. Wasn’t here when it happened. Parts store.

AprilYou learn anything?

AliYes, of course.

 

About the Author

Greg Jolley


Greg Jolley earned a Master of Arts in Writing from the University of San Francisco and lives in the very small town of Ormond Beach, Florida. When not writing, he researches historical crime, primarily those of the 1800s. Or goes surfing.

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