Little white lies can't kill you.
But these lies can.

The chance to visit their friends at their lake house is just what Susan thinks she and her husband, Grant, need to relax. Susan can't wait to spend time with her best friend and finally get the vacation she's been wanting for a while.

But the lake house isn't as restful as she imagined it would be.

Lies begin surfacing as soon as they get to the house. Truth that's been kept hidden comes to light.

Something's wrong with their hosts.
Everyone seems to have a secret.
When everyone finally knows the truth, it's going to be too late for someone to make it out alive.

When everyone is lying, who can you trust?

***A Top 30 Amazon Bestseller***
***#1 Bestseller in Psychological Fiction***

Palmer Lewis married a liar.
But just how deadly are his lies?

Shortly after marrying her soulmate and the birth of their son, the lies begin.

First, it's the phone calls, always held in secret, always deleted from his phone.
Then it's his odd disappearances and the little nagging voice in her head screaming: something is not right.

When Palmer follows her gut -- and her husband -- she catches him with an unfamiliar woman in the park and in his biggest lie thus far. Learning from her past, she hatches a plan to protect herself and their child. But when her husband and son disappear one afternoon and don't return, Palmer must retrace her steps and dig deep to discover the truth before it's too late.

Who is the mysterious woman her husband lied about meeting? Who knows what happened to her family? Who's lying? In this twisted psychological thriller, the better question is, who isn't?

A librarian with a mysterious past, a war hero with a secret, and the heist of a magic painting. The Librarian of Crooked Lane is an intriguing new fantasy from C.J. Archer, the USA Today bestselling author of the Glass and Steele series.

Librarian Sylvia Ashe knows nothing about her past, having grown up without a father and a mother who refused to discuss him. When she stumbles upon a diary that suggests she's descended from magicians, she's skeptical. After all, magicians are special, and she's just an ordinary woman who loves books. She seeks answers from a member of the most prominent family of magicians, but she quickly learns that finding the truth won't be easy, especially when he turns out to be as artless as her, and more compelling and dangerous than books.

War hero Gabe is gifted with wealth, a loving family, and an incredible amount of luck that saw him survive four harrowing years of a brutal war without injury. But not all injuries are visible. Burying himself in his work as a consultant for Scotland Yard, Gabe is going through the motions as he investigates the theft of a magician-made painting. But his life changes when he unwittingly gets Sylvia dismissed from her job and places her in danger.

After securing her new employment in a library housing the world's greatest collection of books about magic, Gabe and Sylvia's lives become intwined as they work together to find both the painting and the truth about Sylvia's past before powerful people can stop them.

But sometimes the past is better left buried...

Author Bio:

C.J. Archer is the USA Today bestselling author of historical fantasy and historical mystery novels. C.J. has loved history and books for as long as she can remember and feels fortunate that she found a way to combine the two. She has at various times worked as a librarian, IT support person and technical writer but in her heart has always been a fiction writer. She lives in Melbourne, Australia, with her husband, 2 children and Coco the black and white cat. 

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Ten years ago, the small town of Bates, South Carolina was changed forever with the appearance of a slip of paper.

Six names.
Six people set to die.
Six months later, they were gone. But the list maker was far from done with their town.

Like clockwork, new lists come out every six months. To keep their names off of them, the citizens go to extraordinary lengths and keep terrifying secrets.

Someone is controlling their town. But who? And, most importantly, why?

When Connor and Jordyn Atwood move to Bates, they see firsthand how far their new neighbors are willing to go to protect themselves. Will the Atwoods succumb to their newfound surroundings? Or will they fight to protect the town they now call their home? With everything at stake and no one to trust, the Atwoods quickly learn the list maker has one important rule: Do what you're told...or find your name on The List.

What secrets does the hidden box hold?

In a dark room, aboard a large cargo ship, a man sits shackled in place.
As time passes his situation grows far more desperate.

Unbeknownst to him, his partner Olivia Knight has traveled across the Atlantic to a small coastal town.
There in Newhaven, England all is seemingly idyllic. But with the arrival of agent Knight, that facade is shown to be simply a disguise.
When a man she recognizes turns up dead with a head-shot wound outside his home, Olivia finds herself amid the largest conspiracy of her career.
As she bridges the potential connection of Brock's shocking background to his kidnapping and the murder in the seaside town.
She soon realizes she must watch her back and trust no one.

A locked box can hold many secrets.
But the one under the floorboard may just put an end to everything once and for all...

Whatever you do, don't look back.

After learning the shocking truth behind the man she fell for, Blake feels lost at sea.
She feels adrift. And is punishing herself for not realizing who Mark was or his true motive by her side.

While trying to solve the secrets of her own personal life, FBI Agent Blake Wilder and her team are forced into action by Kathryn Hedlund, a woman who is the opposite of Blake in nearly every way.
Blake is appalled by the woman but is given no choice except to help find her daughter, who has gone missing.
Blake believes the spoiled rich girl is off on her own volition. But as the team starts digging into the disappearance, they start to uncover clues that suggest Hedlund's daughter did not leave on her own. The team begins to realize that something far more sinister is occurring.

Their case takes them on a twisted ride that seems intent on giving the team whiplash. Just when they think they have a handle on things, it changes again, leaving them grasping for straws as they try to make sense of it all.

In her own personal life, Blake is coming under serious attack, when she suddenly suffers a loss that rocks her entire world. But as she copes with her grief, she gets the biggest surprise of her life...

They're coming. Run. Run as fast as you can.
DON'T STOP RUNNING.

A portrait holds the key to recovering a cache of looted artwork, secreted away during World War II, in this captivating historical art thriller set in the 1940s and present-day Amsterdam.

When a Dutch art dealer hides the stock from his gallery - rather than turn it over to his Nazi blackmailer - he pays with his life, leaving a treasure trove of modern masterpieces buried somewhere in Amsterdam, presumably lost forever. That is, until American art history student Zelda Richardson sticks her nose in.

After studying for a year in the Netherlands, Zelda scores an internship at the prestigious Amsterdam Historical Museum, where she works on an exhibition of paintings and sculptures once stolen by the Nazis, lying unclaimed in Dutch museum depots almost seventy years later. When two women claim the same painting, the portrait of a young girl entitled Irises, Zelda is tasked with investigating the painting's history and soon finds evidence that one of the two women must be lying about her past. Before she can figure out which one it is and why, Zelda learns about the Dutch art dealer's concealed collection. And that Irises is the key to finding it all.

Her discoveries make her a target of someone willing to steal - and even kill - to find the missing paintings. As the list of suspects grows, Zelda realizes she has to track down the lost collection and unmask a killer if she wants to survive.

About the Author
Alderson, Jennifer S.: - Jennifer S. Alderson was born in San Francisco, raised in Seattle, and currently lives in Amsterdam. Before settling in the Netherlands, she traveled extensively around Asia, Oceania, Australia, and Central America. Her love of travel, art, and culture inspires her award-winning Zelda Richardson Mystery Series. Her background in journalism, multimedia development, and art history enriches her novels. When not writing, she can be found in a museum, biking around Amsterdam, or enjoying a coffee along the canal while planning her next research trip.

"...a memorable book that is easily one of my top recommendations of the year! I LOVED IT!" ―Aestas Book Blog

Life on his ranch could be their future. If they can overcome their past.

Felicity's life story reads like the script to a bad soap opera. Girl's high-school boyfriend becomes a drug addict. Girl falls for boyfriend's best friend. Girl leaves them both behind only to return home years later for murdered ex-boyfriend's funeral. Now she's back home in Montana, ready to start fresh. She's got a long list of amends to make and relationships to rebuild, including one with the man who has owned her heart for sixteen years.

Silas doesn't need much. He's got a great horse, close friends and the Lucky Heart ranch, but something has always been missing. He's not an idiot. He knows the missing piece is Felicity. And now that she's returned to Prescott, he's got a second chance to win her heart. This time, the only thing standing in his way is history. Drudging up the past is going to be about as painful as playing tug of war with barbed wire. But if they can heal old wounds, he'll get the girl he should have had all along.

More Reviews:

"This is one of those epic love stories that makes you smile every time you think about it, your heart growing a little warmer and happier from the mere memory of these characters...until you find yourself re-reading their story again and there's absolutely nothing you can do about it." ―Natasha is a Book Junkie

"This is my latest addiction. I feel like everyone should be reading it. It's SO GOOD. So sweet and sexy and addicting and just good!" ―Angie's Dreamy Reads​​

Author Bio:

Devney is a Wall Street Journal and USA Today bestselling author. Born and raised in Montana, she loves writing books set in her treasured home state. After working in the technology industry for nearly a decade, she abandoned conference calls and project schedules to enjoy a slower pace at home with her family. Writing one book, let alone many, was not something she ever expected to do. But now that she’s discovered her true passion for writing romance, she has no plans to ever stop.

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They were supposed to die.

Five years ago, the residents of the Gerbera subdivision in the small town of Fallen Oaks were brutally murdered in their beds. The only survivors, now called The Fallen Oaks Five, were children-practically strangers at the time, forever connected by the weight of all they witnessed.

Now grown, the anniversary of their families' deaths approaches and the Fallen Oaks Five receive letters of warning: the killers are still out there and they aren't finished with them.

In a race against time and murderers who remain both faceless and nameless, the Five must return to their old homes in order to piece together the events of a night they'd all rather forget.

Their old town is riddled with secrets, and every person they come into contact with is a suspect. With everything at stake, can the Five solve the mystery and finally learn the truth about the night that cost them everything? Or will they find themselves victims of a fate they should've succumbed to years ago?

USA TODAY BESTSELLER

India and Matt thought all their problems would come to an end once they found Chronos. But the watch magician brings with him as many questions as answers, and a load of trouble. To fix Matt's magic watch, they must find an old diary that once belonged to a doctor magician murdered decades ago. The hunt drags them into a sordid mystery involving two of London's craft guilds. With old and new enemies determined to stop them, and long-held secrets unearthed, Matt and India must work together better than ever.

But as the reason for India's strangely strong magic is revealed, she wants to draw other magicians into the open, while Matt wants to hide magic to keep her safe.

Her plan backfires. His plan shatters. And danger comes to their door.

About the Author
Archer, C. J.: - C.J. Archer is the USA Today bestselling author of historical fantasy novels including THE EMILY CHAMBERS SPIRIT MEDIUM TRILOGY, the FREAK HOUSE series, the MINISTRY OF CURIOSITIES series and the GLASS AND STEELE books. She has also written historical romances set in Elizabethan England. C.J. has loved history and books for as long as she can remember and feels fortunate that she found a way to combine the two. She has at various times worked as a librarian, IT support person and technical writer but in her heart has always been a fiction writer. She lives in Melbourne, Australia, with her husband, 2 children and Coco the black and white cat. Subscribe to C.J.'s newsletter through her website CJARCHER.COM to be notified when she releases a new book, as well as get access to exclusive content and subscriber-only giveaways.

"Masterfully written, intriguing, mystifying, and spooky...an entertaining work that will keep the reader hooked until the end." —Readers' Favorite

Perfect for fans of Liane Moriarty's The Husband's Secret and Linda Holmes's Evvie Drake Starts Over.

When Annie Parker discovers her husband’s infidelity, she doesn’t let it destroy her. She packs her bags and heads to Lake Arrowhead, California, the mountainside town where her family used to summer. Immersing herself in the restoration of seven 1920s-era cabins, Annie begins to put the pieces of her life back together. But starting over is never easy.

Alyce Murphy needs closure. When she discovers her father did not die from a heart attack, as she’s been led to believe for the last 30 years, but in a murder/suicide, she is determined to uncover the truth of his death. But when she visits the cabin where her father ended his life, Alyce has to accept she may never know the true story.

Annie is looking toward her future while Alyce needs to put the past to rest. In parallel stories, both women are drawn to the rustic mountainside cabins as they search for the missing pieces—but they soon discover that the cabins have their own stories to tell.

More Reviews:

"Chrysteen Braun creates a masterpiece with smooth storytelling that juxtaposes the serenity of the mountains with the eruptive chaos of dangerous secrets and ends with a bang. What a terrific story! What a talented writer!" —San Francisco Book Review

"A touching novel charting two women’s parallel lives, tied together by mysteries, transformation, and a cabin." —BookLife

"For those looking for a complex, engaging novel you won't be able to put down, this book is for you." —Book Excellence Awards

"...Engrossing, poignant.... An engaging drama with a strong cast and a final surprise." —Kirkus

"In an intriguing set of stories, each cabin on the mountain serves as the setting for a compelling tale of loss, betrayal—and love. Chrysteen Braun’s clever premise gives us a satisfying glimpse into the lives of others—both past and present." —Anne Cleeland, author of the Doyle & Acton Mystery Series

"Annie and Alyce are two women without much in common, but whose lives intersect in a place that has surprises for both of them. In telling their stories, Chrysteen Braun blends memoir and mystery in an entertaining page-turner." —Susan Denley, former Associate Features Editor, Los Angeles Times

Author Bio:

When it comes to California, mountain retreats, and home renovation, Chrysteen Braun doesn’t just write about it, she’s lived it. The California-native grew up in Long Beach where she recalls writing her first novel at the young age of 12. Moving to Hollywood, she worked at Capital Records where, at just 18, was tasked with ordering all the Beatles’s Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band album covers. Shortly thereafter, she joined her family’s home remodeling and design business, which she subsequently owned and operated with her husband, Larry. Fast forward almost fifty years and today that business has passed on to her daughter to continue the family tradition. Meanwhile, Chrysteen has returned to her roots of writing, finding adventure in her characters’ tangle of relationships, mystery and intrigue. The mountains, where she and her husband have a second home, are the inspiration for much of her writing, including The Guestbook Trilogy book series.

Today, Chrysteen lives in Coto de Caza, with her husband and two Siamese cats and divides her time between writing articles on home decor and design, writing fiction and operating a decor boutique in Lake Arrowhead, California, aptly named, At the Cabin.

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Can the man who never was catch the criminals who never get caught?

John Milton is used to operating in the shadows, weaving his way through dangerous places behind a fake identity. Now, to avenge the death of a close friend, he must wear his mask of deception once more.

Beau Baxter was brutally murdered by a drugs cartel but that doesn't stop Milton from blaming himself for his friend's death. With the help of a trusted team of undercover experts and Beau's son, Milton is determined to track down the killers. And he isn't just after the man who gave the order. He's heading right for the top.

Milton plans to follow the trail of cocaine from the nightclubs of Amsterdam all the way to its source in Colombia. Disguised as an ambitious buyer, he's prepared to work his way up the cartel hierarchy one rung at a time. But the ladder can be slippery and, as Milton travels deeper into a world of violence, ruthlessness and greed, he finds himself in a jungle that could prove impossible to escape.

USA TODAY BESTSELLER

When an apprentice from the Mapmakers' Guild goes missing, Matt and India are employed to find him. Going undercover as a married couple, they discover that not everyone at the guild is what they seem, and the lad's unearthly maps caused jealousy, suspicion and fear.

With one of the apprentice's magic maps in their possession, India and Matt must use their wits and India's fledgling, untried magic to find him. But the more they investigate, the more sinister plots they uncover, including a link between the Mapmakers' and Watchmakers' Guilds, and an ancient magical treasure buried beneath the streets of London.

As the net of suspicion widens and enemies draw closer, it's not just the apprentice's life that's in danger, but Matt's too. Someone will go to great lengths to prevent him discovering the name of the man who can fix the watch keeping him alive. Great lengths indeed.

About the Author
Archer, C. J.: - C.J. Archer is the USA Today bestselling author of historical fantasy novels including THE EMILY CHAMBERS SPIRIT MEDIUM TRILOGY, the FREAK HOUSE series, the MINISTRY OF CURIOSITIES series and the GLASS AND STEELE books. She has also written historical romances set in Elizabethan England. C.J. has loved history and books for as long as she can remember and feels fortunate that she found a way to combine the two. She has at various times worked as a librarian, IT support person and technical writer but in her heart has always been a fiction writer. She lives in Melbourne, Australia, with her husband, 2 children and Coco the black and white cat. Subscribe to C.J.'s newsletter on her website CJARCHER.COM to be notified when she releases a new book, as well as get access to exclusive content and subscriber-only giveaways.

Smart. Savvy. Retired. Bored.

The members of The Martini Club include a former CIA operative, a one-time Washington ad man, an ex-journalist, a retired brothel owner, an ex-airline pilot, and a non-practicing rabbi. This eclectic group assembles once a month to drink gin martinis, debate great issues and tell stories that may or may not be true. When an enigmatic financier offers them a chance to get “back in the game” and turn one-million dollars into untold riches, the retirees jump at the opportunity. But their plans are quickly stymied by the suspicious death of a local landowner, forcing The Martini Club to sober up and investigate potentially deadly hidden agendas. 

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Author Bio:
Alan Eysen wrote for many years about real-world financial and political corruption. At Newsday, he served as a prominent member of the investigative team that won the 1970 Pulitzer Prize for exposing misconduct involving Long Island public officials. After more than thirty years in journalism, he became a political consultant and experienced the other side of the story. Today, Eysen resides in the lowcountry of South Carolina, where he continues to write and be inspired by the colorful characters and harrowing situations he experienced firsthand as a reporter. He can often be found crafting his strong fictional characters with the help of an equally strong dry gin martini.

Book Excerpt:
Chapter 1: Flying
Jay Corrigan flew lazy circles over the Parrot’s Caw subdivision. The sky was azure blue; the golf course below a winding strip of brilliant green. This was the time the retired airline pilot had been waiting for—no schedules, no responsibilities, just the pure joy of making lazy circles in the sky.
The tiny two-seat Cessna 152 responded instantly to Corrigan’s touch. He was hands-on flying in this little high winged bird. He and the plane were one body linked by touch. Corrigan no longer was managing a computer-driven commercial plane, responsible for hundreds of passengers. He was just having fun.
Oops, he thought, remembering he did have one responsibility today. He had promised the Parrot’s Caw Property Owners Association that he would take photographs of the fifteen-hundred-acre development, with its thirty miles of roads and drains, its seventy-five drainage ponds, its twenty-plus miles of walking and biking trails, and many acres of carefully trimmed flowers, bushes and trees. The association board had requested the photos as part of its preparation for negotiations with the property’s developer.
Yet he hesitated.
Instead of shooting photos, he climbed to thirty-five hundred feet to get a more panoramic view of the area. There was Parrot’s Caw, a complex of more than two thousand homes, town homes and condominiums. Its residents were upper middle class, mostly a mixture of successful businessmen and professionals—doctors, lawyers, accountants and engineers. Of course, he had met some offbeat souls, retired college professors, an ex-CIA operative, even a former journalist. Good folks to drink with.
The neighborhood’s manicured lawns, landscaped gardens and rolling golf course painted a sharp contrast to what Corrigan saw when he looked to the southeast. There, he spotted a distinctly different neighborhood. It was made up mostly of rundown shanties and mobile homes sitting on concrete blocks. Poor blacks lived there. He could make out several of them riding bikes on the slender, two-lane roads—not for the exercise, he thought, but because they can’t afford cars.
To the south lay the city of Stuarton, known to many as The Miracle City because the colonial seaport town had survived a British siege and blockade during the Revolutionary War by trickery as much as grim de­termination. Its militiamen intermixed real and artificial cannons on their ramparts to give a more formidable appearance and poked numerous unmanned rifles out of windows and over parapets to further the impression of a greater number of defenders. Some of their dead were propped up behind these weapons to add authenticity. After weeks of bombardment, the British fleet withdrew rather than test Stuarton’s defenses further by landing troops.
Today, Stuarton residents were largely middle class, earning their living from small businesses that catered either to the tourist trade or the sale of farm products. A small section was filled with venerable mansions, some still occupied by the heirs of their original builders. Most of these architectural jewels, however, were now in the hands of successful entrepreneurs and celebrities who enjoyed a certain anonymity among Stuarton’s polite, look-the-other-way citizenry.
Flying in a slow turn to the north, Corrigan was able to peer out his window far to the west. There he saw miles of farms and small ranches. Damn, he thought, I think I see some cattle and real cowboys down there. Now it’s time to play. With that, he pushed the throttle in to full power and pulled the control wheel into his gut. The Cessna’s engine roared as its nose pointed straight up to the sky. For a tantalizing moment, the plane remained motionless, stalled, as if hung on an invisible string. Then, its left wing dropped precipitously, and the plane began to spin— slowly at first, then more rapidly. It looked to Corrigan as if the earth, not the plane, was spinning more and more rapidly as it rose up toward him. He laughed, shoved the control wheel forward, leveled the wings, pressed hard on the right rudder and reduced power. As the spin stopped, he eased off the right rudder and gently pulled back on the control wheel, putting the plane back in level flight. Fun’s over. The altimeter indicated he had lost 150 feet.
He turned back to the southeast toward Parrot’s Caw and began a slow descent. He reached for his camera, an old German Leica, banked the plane over to a for­ty-five-degree angle, and began shooting. By the time he tied down the little rental plane, he was ready for a drink. Where the hell are Brady, Smyth and Ginsberg when you need them?
Chapter 2: In the Beginning
Many of Brody Brady’s personal daily rituals were the result of his creative imagination. There was, for example, his Tuesday and Thursday walking schedule. On those two days, Brady wore a towel around his neck and a headband that said FEDERER. He would start his walks at precisely 10:00 a.m., which allowed him to reach his halfway point, the development’s tennis courts, a half hour later. This coincided with the conclusion of the regular women’s doubles tennis matches. Brady would offer his towel to any attractive lady who seemed in need of such assistance. Soon the players expected Brady to arrive, and some struck up an acquaintance with “that charming man.”
On Wednesdays, Brady would borrow his neighbor’s Yorkshire Terrier for a walk. He had learned that women were attracted to small, fluffy dogs. Though the Yorkie was a male named Brute, on their walks Brady called him Lover Girl. A heavy coat of hair concealed the distinguishing male member until the dog was picked up to be cuddled. This made for lengthy conversations with women concerning male and female anatomy. After each walk, Brady returned the dog promptly to its owner, borrowing it off schedule only if a Yorkie-loving woman decided to pay him a personal visit.
Mondays and Fridays were set aside for what Brady called “conversation walks,” strolls with a special group of men more or less his age. He was seventy-eight. All the men invited on these walks were bright, well educated, mostly retired, and above all interesting. They also shared a kindred taste for martinis.
The Brady walkers, as they began calling themselves, met at the entrance to the Parrot’s Caw Clubhouse, an English Tudor structure that fed and lubricated golfers, pinochle players and those interested in spending a day away from their spouses. It was after one such conversation walk that The Martini Club was born. To say it was formally created would be an overstatement. Best to say it simply evolved from a discussion between Brady and Nathan Ginsberg on the merits of drinking, and their inability to do so while walking.
Ginsberg was slightly younger than Brady, and could discuss anything from philosophy to baseball scores with wit and wisdom. He was tall, nearly as tall as Brady. Unlike Brady, though, Ginsberg was broad shouldered and muscular with a perpetual three days growth of beard. He could have passed for one of those mature male mod­els featured in erectile dysfunction commercials.
“What I admire about you, Nathan,” Brady said, “is that you can hold your liquor so well. In my ethnic persuasion, that would be considered a badge of honor. In yours, probably not so much.”
“True, especially since I am a rabbi.”
“A rabbi?” Brady responded in disbelief. “During my days in Washington, I ran into lots of Jews who could drink with the best, but none of them was a rabbi.”
“A heavy drinking Jew is the quintessential assim­ilationist. If he can drink like a goy, he can pass for a goy, so deep is the Jewish inferiority complex,” Ginsberg replied. “But passing for a goy doesn’t work well in the rabbi business. Congregations want rabbis not only to be Jewish, but to look Jewish and smell Jewish. That means, horseradish on your breath…yes; liquor on your breath… no. Fortunately, I am retired. I took up drinking after my working years. All that being said, there is precedence for having a drunken leader in the Bible.”
“Is this going to be a sermon on the virtues of drinking?” Brady asked in expectation of some witty Talmudic offering. “Being of Irish heritage and having labored in some of the best bars in D.C., I can say I need no conversion.”
“In your case, no conversion, just a little Jewish perspective,” Ginsberg responded. “I think you already understand the sins and virtues of alcohol. In Genesis, God decides he doesn’t like the life He has created on earth with Adam and Eve, so He tries again. He floods the world, and drowns everybody except for one righteous man, his family and a bunch of animals—there is some dispute as to their number—but in the end, all are saved, and life begins again on this lonely planet.”
“Touching. So what’s the point?”
“The point is this: the one righteous man He picks to lead the little band of start-overs is a vintner named Noah. Immediately after he finds dry land, what does Noah do?”
“I know.” Brady responded with a wink. “He lets all those creatures off the ark to go copulate.”
“My question was rhetorical, smart guy. The Bible says, ‘And Noah, the farmer, began and planted a vineyard. And he drank of the wine and was drunken.’ Things get a little sloppy after that, but Noah lived nine hundred and fifty years and started a whole line of descendants, including you and me. My point is that if it weren’t for a drunken pre-Jew, none of us would be here.”
“Hallelujah,” replied Brady. “And that explains why Jesus turned water into wine. He just wanted to keep the party going.”
Before Ginsberg could reply, Gerald Smyth joined them with a healthy clap on both their backs. “So boys, what are we going to argue about today?”
It was then that Brady had an epiphany. “The three of us love to drink martinis, tell wild stories and argue about everything from politics to women. Why don’t we meet at each other’s homes instead of on the street, so we can imbibe while we altercate? The host will supply the martinis and some food. We can call it The Martini Club. Each of us can bring in an additional member as long as he is a kindred spirit.”
“There must be only one rule,” Ginsberg responded, “that there are no rules, no passwords, no secret handshakes or special number cards with our faces on them, nothing that will bring order out of the chaos we are seeking.”
“Agreed,” Smyth said.
“Whoa,” Brady objected. “You have suggested a rule that cannot be put in place unless there are rules for voting a rule in or out of place. Without such formative rules, there can be no way to adopt primal rules for barring rules.”
“I would suggest that does not have to be the case,” Ginsberg countered. “The religious and scientific laws that govern us did not require an a priori mechanism to put them in place. These laws are givens. They are inherent to the universe, like gravity and magnetism. God made them all out of nothing, a void.”
“Are you, rabbi, suggesting that God created gravity and magnetism?” asked Brady.
“Yes, exactly. Science can’t explain what set this all in motion. I am suggesting that God is our convenient name for the universality that put all these laws in place without benefit of outside jurisdiction or requirement of a majority vote. When Moses stood before the burning bush and asked God his name, God answered, ‘I am what I am,’ or as the Greeks translated it ‘I will be what I will be.’ How much more universal can you get? How can that be challenged?”
Smyth raised a large, hard hand, silencing the de­baters. “Enough,” he cried. “It is clear we are standing atop Mount Sinai at this very moment—though there isn’t a hill in sight—and we have just received revealed truth. The Martini Club has been called forth as a revelation. The first meeting will be held at my place within the week.”
The Martini Club was born and grew to ten mem­bers, each bringing a special personality and branch of knowledge to the assemblage—the theater arts and fine arts, politics, business, aviation, journalism, espionage, sex and psychology.
Chapter 3: Brody Brady
Sam Grieger’s first encounter with the manipulations of Brody Brady came as he was unpacking boxes and placing items where his wife Sheila had dictated—dishes in the cabinets near the refrigerator, toaster oven on the counter near the coffee maker, automatic can opener to be screwed into the base of the cabinet overhanging the dishwasher. If I let my mind go blank, he thought, I won’t remember that I failed shop in high school and that my teacher called me tool disadvantaged. I have twisted myself like a circus contortionist into the twenty-two inches between the dishwasher and the overhanging cabinet and am trying to rotate screws into remarkably hard wood.
Someone began aggressively banging on the front door.
“Who is it?” Grieger called.
“Your neighbor, Brody Brady. It’s an emergency.”
“Hold on a minute.”
“I don’t have a minute. It’s an emergency.”
“What’s the emergency?”
“I’m bleeding.”
“Hold on.” Grieger untwisted himself carefully off the dishwasher, mindful that his skull could be penetrated at any moment by partially driven steel screws.
He opened the door to see Brody Brady looking like a gaunt parody of the Statue of Liberty, right hand held high, wrapped in a towel sodden with blood. As a retired newspaper reporter, Grieger had seen his fill of bloody bodies, but Brody Brady looked different. Probably because he’s still alive. “I’ll call 911.”
“No time for 911,” Brady replied. “Do you have some large bandages?”
“Yes, somewhere in one of these boxes,” Grieger answered, pointing at a hallway filled with half-opened boxes. “My wife would know where, but she isn’t home.”
“Then you will have to do. Start going through the boxes,” Brady commanded.
Grieger began rummaging through them without success. He looked up to see Brady dripping blood. “You are bleeding on my boxes and on my new parquet floor,” Grieger shouted.
“I don’t want to bleed on your boxes and floor, so get me some bandages quickly,” Brady snapped back.
In desperation, Grieger grabbed Brady by his blood tipped arm and rushed him to the kitchen sink. At least now he won’t bleed to death on my new floor. He pulled away the blood soaked towel revealing a gash that ran from Brady’s middle finger, across his palm nearly up to his wrist. “This needs stitches. A bandage won’t do it,” Grieger said, trying to feign compassion.
Grieger recalled the cops slipping on plastic gloves and booties before touching the victims of mob hits. What if this guy has AIDs or hepatitis? Am I going to die from a horrible disease I haven’t even derived in some perverse pleasure? Aloud, he said, “Why don’t you go to the emergency room? There’s a hospital nearby. I’ll drive you.”
“I can’t go,” Brady replied. “See the 18-wheeler down at the end of the block. It’s full of my stuff. They’re unloading it into my place right now. I have to tell them where to put things.”
“I still think you should go to the emergency room. Just let them dump the furniture wherever. My wife will be home soon, and I’ll tell her to tell the movers where to put things. She knows that sort of stuff. She puts things in all the right places. Her mother taught her.”
“She doesn’t know where I want to put my things, nor does her mother,” Brady responded, agitation creeping into his voice.
“Sheila has great instincts about that kind of stuff,” Grieger replied knowingly. “It’s in women’s genes. When we lived in caves, they put all the rocks in all the right places. That’s how we learned to sit down. By the time we come back from the emergency room everything will be right where it should be.”
“No,” Brady replied resolutely. “I will stay with my furniture to the end, even if I bleed to death and it’s your fault.”
Grieger realized his situation was hopeless. Brady was prepared to die just to make sure his furniture was properly placed, and would blame him with his dying breaths. He rushed to the closet and grabbed a large beach towel emblazoned with the image of a very large crab. He twisted it around Brady’s wound and secured it with several turns of packing tape. The flow of blood was slowed but not stopped.
“You are still bleeding,” Grieger said hopelessly.
“I take Coumadin. It’s a blood thinner. You see, I have a bad heart,” Brady explained like some patient teacher. “It’s very hard to stop the bleeding.”
“I think we should go to the emergency room,” Grieger answered.
“I’m already scheduled to go in tomorrow for some minor heart surgery. I’ll have them stitch up my hand at the same time, a kind of two for one,” Brady countered, smiling.
“Heart surgery tomorrow?” Grieger questioned, no longer surprised at his neighbor’s answers. “I don’t think they combine such things.”
“I’ll talk to them,” Brady said confidently. “I can be quite persuasive. Besides, I have Medicare. It’s all covered.”
Grieger knew Brady had won. It was time to soldier on. Grieger marched him to the door. “Keep your arm elevated. As soon as my wife gets back we’ll find some real bandages and bring them over to your place,” he said. “By the way, how’d you get this cut?”
“They were bringing in a case of my very good wine, and they dropped it. I reached inside the case to check the damage and was stabbed by a bottle of Argentine Malbec,” Brady replied with a grin.
“What a waste of good wine,” Grieger sympathized, smiling back.
“I knew I’d like you,” Brady answered as he left, towel and hand held high.
And thus their friendship began. 
Chapter 4: The Chant
 The next time Sam Grieger saw Brody Brady was at the get-to-know you meeting of the newly formed Parrot’s Caw Condominium Owners Association, or PCCOWA, as it came to be known. The event was held in an all-purpose ballroom at the development’s central building, quaintly called The Domain. The ballroom itself was named The Dunk since it also served as a basketball court. The backboards were pulled up on this occasion, serving as anchors for the strings attached to large red, white and blue balloons that caromed off the coffee-colored ceiling. Periodically, they would snag on the folded hoops and make gaseous sounds as they pulled free. Their flat­ulence was overwhelmed now by the powerful voice of Chris Bideau, the property manager and developer’s son.
“I personally want to thank each of you for being the first settlers in a row of unique condominium structures that RB&S Homes hopes to fill with comfortable retirees from the north, just like yourselves.” Recalling his reli­gious education at Goodness of God College, he added, “You are on the frontier of the Promised Land. Thanks to RB&S Homes, you have at long last escaped the cold, the shoveling of snow, the driving on ice, the wearing of heavy winter coats, the chill of icy winds and the huge heating bills…and you deserve it.” Mixing his biblical ge­ography, Bideau went on to proclaim, “You are no longer East of Eden. You are in Eden. Amen, brothers and sisters!”
His audience responded to his revival meeting oratory with polite applause, but not a single Hallelujah.
Unshaken, Chris Bideau switched to a more down-to-earth approach. “Each table has bottles of wine and delicious chocolate chip cookies. And there is more to come. We have chicken wings waiting in the kitchen oven and ice cream in the freezer.”
Warming more to his master of ceremonies role, he added, “But before we get to the eating and drinking, RB&S Homes is going to treat you to something really special. We have created a Parrot’s Caw chant,” he shouted. “Chant it with me. It goes this way: PEE-SEE-SEE-OH-WHO-WAWA. The P not only stands for Parrot. It stands for perfect,” he yelled into a crackling microphone. “Remember, accent on the first PEE and the WHO.” He began rocking and rhythmically shouting:

A scantily dressed female, clearly wearing little or no underwear, jumped on the stage next to Bideau and began wiggling her bottom and waving pom-poms. She was slender, bosomy and pretty, but clearly years beyond her high-school cheerleading days.
“PEE-SEE-SEE-OH-WHO-WA-WA,” she cheered. “C’mon, folks,” she cried out. “Let’s all join in.”
Her low-cut top and mini skirt had awakened interest among the male condo owners. “Not since my high-school basketball days have I seen a wiggle like that,” shouted a recently retired Wall Street lawyer sitting close to the stage. “But I left the cheering to the cheerleaders. I just tried to score—one way or the other.” His remarks drew a round of applause and whistles from the men in the audience. His wife whacked his arm with her handbag.
Nobody joined in the chant. The pom-pom girl stopped wiggling.
“Ah, c’mon folks,” a frustrated Chris Bideau pleaded into the microphone. “We’re all on the same team here. We should have a cheer. We’ve got to have a cheer.”
“We’d rather have the chicken wings,” someone yelled from the back of the room.
Then Brody Brady jumped up. “In the meantime, why don’t you let the young lady play some music and do some singing. I understand she’s a got a great voice.”
“Okay, okay,” Chris Bideau responded, getting Brady’s message. “RB&S Homes wants you to have a good time tonight.” He signaled for the waiters to start bringing out the chicken wings. Turning to the pom-pom girl, he announced, “Get your other equipment on the stage, honey. It’s time for you to entertain us.” The girl quickly put two turntables, an amplifier and two speakers on the stage.
Bideau was about to hand her the microphone when a big man with a heavy beard walked in and shouted, “Hold it! She don’t sing. She don’t play music. She don’t strip. And she don’t wiggle, unless I say so. And I ain’t said so, so I’m taking her home.”
“Who are you?” Bideau asked.
“I’m her manager, her boss and her pimp,” the big man said as he walked passed tables of gawking condo owners on his way to the stage.
“What the hell is going on, Brody?” Chris asked. “I thought you paid her.”
“I did,” Brady answered from his seat only a few feet away. Some heads turned toward him with curiosity, but most remained fixated on the big man in the T-shirt, leather vest and large tattooed arms as he headed toward the girl.
“Just a moment, sir,” Bideau said as he stepped between the two. “If this is about money, we can straighten this out.”
The big man stopped and looked at Chris, who at six feet four inches stood two inches taller than the big man and at two hundred and forty pounds was twenty pounds heavier.
“This ain’t about money. The broad tried to go into business on her own. She needs to be taught a lesson,” he said. He attempted to move around Bideau, but Bideau moved with him.
“Out of my way before I bust your skull,” the big man said, pulling out a sharpened steel rod from a side pocket in his leather pants. Within seconds, Bideau smashed his knee into the thug’s groin. As the big man doubled over, Bideau brought his right fist down on the back of his head, seized his right wrist in an iron grip and spun him around. The steel rod went flying. The bearded man screamed as his shoulder snapped, and he collapsed in a moaning heap on the floor. This would be the last thing the big man remembered before waking up in the Stuarton Hospital emergency room.
Bideau seized the microphone. “This is all some kind of misunderstanding, folks. Just stay seated and we’ll go on with the evening. We still have ice cream sundaes coming.” The image of sundaes didn’t change the mood. The condo owners were streaming toward the doors.
The pom-pom girl was packing her equipment hastily and crying. “He’ll kill me!”
“If he comes near you, tell him he’ll answer to me,” Bideau responded.
He saw Brody Brady leaving with the crowd. “Brady, we have to talk, now!”
Brady stopped and turned to face Bideau, who was stepping over the big man.
“You sold me on the chant. You sold me on the girl. You sold me on the night, Mr. Public Relations Man. And look what’s happened. The condo owners are fleeing; some pimp tried to kill me, and I have to explain all this not only to the cops but also to my dad. I’m also out the five hundred bucks I paid you for your ideas and another two hundred and fifty for the cheerleader.”
“They would have come around to chant after a few more glasses of wine and some dancing,” Brady replied in a reassuring voice. As for the girl, I met her at a strip club downtown. She was pole dancing, playing music and singing. Seemed very talented, so I set her up with you. I didn’t know we were supposed to go through her manager. You’d better call 911,” Brady added as he headed for the door before Bideau decided to put him next to the big man.

 

A Martini Club search begins, almost casually with a marital dispute between a beautiful woman and her wandering husband. The quarrel evolves into sweeping questions about stolen art, undercover agents, religious conundrums, Fibonacci sequences, politics, and-of course-billionaires with billions to spend. Colorful locations, energetic personalities, and a chimpanzee named Chappie. All play a part in discovering the real object of the search: a find that bids fair to change how we think about our history, or faith, and our lives.



“Another winner from Alan Eysen. If you like interesting characters, all with their own stories, this second novel in the Martini Club series is for you." —Beverly Lawn, Author, Poet and English Professor Emerita Adelphi University

There they go again—a couple of them getting shot at—this time while flying over a dead-beat farm they were conned into buying for a million dollars. Smart, savvy, retired and bored, the Martini Club guys go looking for a little adventure and a bunch of their money back. What possibly could be valuable enough down there for somebody to shoot at them? The answer will take The Martini Club on a wild ride through space and time. But will they solve the mystery before someone gets killed?

Author Bio:
Alan Eysen wrote for many years about real-world financial and political corruption. At Newsday, he served as a prominent member of the investigative team that won the 1970 Pulitzer Prize for exposing misconduct involving Long Island public officials. After more than thirty years in journalism, he became a political consultant and experienced the other side of the story. Today, Eysen resides in the lowcountry of South Carolina, where he continues to write and be inspired by the colorful characters and harrowing situations he experienced firsthand as a reporter. He can often be found crafting his strong fictional characters with the help of an equally strong dry gin martini.

 

"Comic and suspenseful, The Trouble with Truffles is the third novel in Alan Eysen's Martini Club Mystery series. This time the lure is 100 acres of perfect white truffles. Irresistible." —Beverly Lawn, Author, Poet and English Professor at Emerita Adelphi University

The Martini Clubbers are at it again, seeking adventure as well as money. This time, both come knocking in the form of a beautiful woman who says she represents a company that can make them a fortune in white truffle production, if it is allowed to experiment on a farm owned by the Club. After all, white truffles sell for $4,000 a pound. The members go for it. The notoriously difficult to cultivate white truffle is suddenly easily available, which brings an unexpected problem.

Author Bio:
Alan Eysen wrote for many years about real-world financial and political corruption. At Newsday, he served as a prominent member of the investigative team that won the 1970 Pulitzer Prize for exposing misconduct involving Long Island public officials. After more than thirty years in journalism, he became a political consultant and experienced the other side of the story. Today, Eysen resides in the lowcountry of South Carolina, where he continues to write and be inspired by the colorful characters and harrowing situations he experienced firsthand as a reporter. He can often be found crafting his strong fictional characters with the help of an equally strong dry gin martini.

 

One book can change your life.
 
Finding an old manuscript in the attic has always been a fantasy of Sylvia's. She just never expected the fantasy to come true, or for it to lead her to answers about her mysterious family.
 
The silver clasps binding the pages contain rare magic—the same magic that might run through Sylvia's veins. To discover a link to her ancestors means understanding the book itself, but it's written in a code that proves difficult to crack. The only thing she knows for certain is that it was once owned by the Medicis, the powerful family that controlled Renaissance Florence.
 
With the help of Gabe and his friends, Sylvia investigates the book's origins. But following the clues throws up more questions—questions they need help answering. Trusting others is not Sylvia's strong suit, but with Gabe at her side, she becomes capable and confident. Until their trust is shattered when the book is stolen.
 
Uncovering the thief proves dangerous, particularly when someone is also trying to kidnap Gabe. With his own mysteries to unravel, Gabe's private life becomes more complicated. Sylvia tries to keep her distance but staying away from someone as magnetic as Gabe is impossible.
 
With so many distractions, can they find the thief before the book is lost forever? Or will the secrets contained within its pages remain unsolved and will Sylvia's past continue to be a mystery?

Author Bio:

C.J. Archer is the USA Today bestselling author of historical fantasy and historical mystery novels. C.J. has loved history and books for as long as she can remember and feels fortunate that she found a way to combine the two. She has at various times worked as a librarian, IT support person and technical writer but in her heart has always been a fiction writer. She lives in Melbourne, Australia, with her husband, 2 children and Coco the black and white cat. 

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“The Milk Wagon is destined to be a classic...Highly recommend.” —Delta Magazine

The Milk Wagon is a coming-of-age thriller about friendship, redemption, and how the ties made during high school can last a lifetime.

Matt Frazier, Jason “Hop” Hopkins, and Mark Ragone have been close friends since elementary school. On the first day of their junior year of high school, a new kid named Nate Mayes arrives, and with him, a secret.

Nate appears to be polished, flush with cash, and a potential lady-killer. However, they soon discover that something terrible is going on at home with Nate’s father, Dr. Ford Mayes. 

FBI Special Agent Kathryn Cooper believes Dr. Mayes has personally had a hand in several deaths relating to  a money laundering scandal involving compounding pharmacies, dirty physicians, and the United States Government. Her attempts to arrest him, however, are foiled by an insider working both sides. With her career—and social life—in jeopardy, Agent Cooper turns to her new chief-of-police boyfriend for help, but is he truly the cure-all she needs?

When Nate stumbles upon a piece of evidence that ties his father not only to the money laundering investigation, but also to the death of his mother some fourteen years prior, he is devastated and filled with revenge. Enlisting Matt and his friends to help, Nate concocts a plan that will force them all to make unexpected and life-altering decisions. In the end, they will discover the shocking truth and finally understand the loyal bonds of family and friendship.

The trusty Milk Wagon was there through it all.

 

 

“Filled with FBI Investigations, scandal, and mysterious deaths, The Milk Wagon is a page-turning read.” —Mississippi Magazine

“It is hard to believe this book is fiction. I enjoyed it so much and will be recommending it to anyone and everyone I can.” —★★★★★ Reader Review

“When I started reading "The Milk Wagon" I was totally unprepared to be engaged in this FBI/coming of age thriller. I could not put it down, reading almost nonstop until the end. I thoroughly enjoyed this novel and would highly recommend it as a great entertaining read.” —NetGalley Reviewer

“If you love crime thrillers, if you loved the 80s, or if you just love a well written book, check this one out.” —NetGalley Reviewer

“The writing is exquisite; the storyline is awesome. Very relatable.” —★★★★★ Reader Review

A 1920s Murder Mystery in the depths of rural Yorkshire

A scoundrel lies dying, he makes his confession; his sins were despicable and he wants to atone for his wasted life. He bequeaths an invaluable gift to Monks Hood Abbey, an ancient monastery set in a lonely corner of the Yorkshire moors.

But sin throws a long shadow and corruption crawls in its shade. Strangers come forward and lay claim to the monks' inheritance.

The Abbot calls on Major Heathcliff Lennox and ex-Chief Inspector Swift to ask for their help. They must go to Yorkshire to unravel the mayhem - but then there's mystery, and murder, and another adventure begins.

Major Heathcliff Lennox, ex-WW1 war pilot, six feet 3 inches, unruly dark blond hair, age around 30 - named after the hero of Wuthering Heights by his romantically minded mother - much to his great annoyance.

The Monks Hood Murders is the fifth book in the Lennox series.

A gripping and emotional novel that will leave you wondering about the neighbors next door...

On a cold January night, Sharon Lemke heads outside to see a lunar eclipse when she notices something odd at the house behind her backyard. Through her neighbor's kitchen window, she sees what appears to be a little girl washing dishes late at night. But the Fleming family doesn't have a child that age, and even if they did, why would she be doing housework at this late hour?

It would be easy for Sharon to just let this go, but when eighteen-year-old Niki, a former foster child, comes to live with Sharon, she notices suspicious activity at the Flemings' house as well. Clearly a little girl lives there, even if Suzette Fleming denies it. When calling social services doesn't result in swift action, Sharon and Niki decide to investigate on their own.

There's something strange about Loren's new mother-in-law...

When Loren meets Jack, she's sure he's the man she's been waiting for-a perfect husband and a father for her young daughter. Shortly after their wedding, their plans to start a life together are put on hold when the couple receives word that Jack's father has died.

In an effort to appease her new husband, Loren invites her mother-in-law, Coralee, to stay with them while she grieves. When strange things begin to occur just after her arrival, Loren questions how much she knows about the woman she invited into her home.

One calculated move after the next, Coralee attempts to drive a wedge between Loren and her new husband. Jack believes his mother's strange behavior is just further proof she needs their help, but Loren isn't so sure. As Coralee's actions become increasingly sinister, Loren is pushed to her breaking point and she realizes she must do whatever it takes to get rid of her mother-in-law for good.

What she doesn't know about her new family could kill her...

When the top American diplomat in Tokyo, Bernard Mattson, is killed, he leaves more than a lifetime of successful Japan-American negotiations. He leaves a missing manuscript, boxes of research, a lost keynote speech and a tangled web of relations.

When his alluring daughter, Jamie, returns from America wanting answers, finding only threats, Detective Hiroshi Shimizu is dragged from the safe confines of his office into the street-level realities of Pacific Rim politics.

With help from ex-sumo wrestler Sakaguchi, Hiroshi searches for the killer from Tokyo's back alley bars to government offices, through anti-nuke protests to the gates of an American naval base. When two more bodies turn up, Hiroshi must choose between desire and duty, violence or procedure, before the killer silences his next victim.

About the Author
Pronko, Michael: - Michael Pronko is a Tokyo-based writer of murder, memoir and music. His writing about Tokyo life and his character-driven mysteries have won awards and five-star reviews. Kirkus Reviews selected his second novel, The Moving Blade for their Best Books of 2018. The Last Train won the Shelf Unbound Competition for Best Independently Published Book. Michael also runs the website, Jazz in Japan, which covers the vibrant jazz scene in Tokyo and Yokohama. During his 20 years in Japan, he has written about Japanese culture, art, society and politics for Newsweek Japan, The Japan Times, and Artscape Japan. He has read his essays on NHK TV and done programs for Nippon Television based on his writings.A philosophy major, Michael traveled for years, ducking in and out of graduate schools, before finishing his PhD on Charles Dickens and film. He finally settled in Tokyo as a professor of American Literature at Meiji Gakuin University. His seminars focus on contemporary novels, short stories and film adaptations. More at: http: //www.michaelpronko.com/ https: //www.facebook.com/pronkoauthor https: //twitter.com/pronkomichael

"Death is inescapable. I am your penance."

FBI agent Olivia Knight has seen her fair share of shocking and gruesome cases.
So much so that she trained herself to expect the unexpected.
But when she is called onto a case in a sleepy small-town of Beacon Hill.
A case involving a brutal stabbing with the words...
"Death is inescapable. I am your penance.", written in blood.
Olivia finds herself sleepless and unable to shake off the chilling words of a bloodthirsty killer.
After a second victim is found. The case takes another bizarre turn.

What are the connections between both victims?
What is the killer's true motive?
And most importantly who will be next?

When Olivia gets a personal threat from a cloaked man that calls himself "The Messenger", she realizes that she is being watched.
Lives are on the line. A deranged killer is on the loose.
Will Olivia be able to save herself and keep the body count from rising?

In the small town of Beacon Hill, death may be your only escape.

Bestselling author Patricia Rice offers the next book in her Regency historical mystery series...

Wycliffe Manor, a magnet for murder...

On a long-delayed errand to remote Wycliffe Manor, ex-Lieutenant Jack de Sackville stumbles across the murdered body of London dandy, Basil Culpepper, in the hedgerow, a long way from his usual haunts. To Jack's dismay, he discovers the earl's daughter Culpepper ruined hiding in Wycliffe's kitchen.

Disguised as a lowly cook, Lady Elspeth Villiers may have liked to shoot Culpepper for ruining her life, but she dropped out of sight for more immediate reasons than an old scandal-her wealth has become the focus of greedy men. The arrival of Jack, the man she's adored since childhood, along with Culpepper's corpse, mean her hiding place is no longer safe.

But once Lady Elsa reveals herself to the unconventional inhabitants of Wycliffe Manor, they become the protective family she has never known. Outraged to learn the beautiful woman he once loved and lost has become a target of greed, Jack joins the investigation into Culpepper's death.

With a murderer on the loose, the amateur sleuths must unravel a deadly tangle of kidnappers and counterfeiters or the Manor's eccentric inhabitants will be in as much danger as their cook.

Olivia Mendes has a secret.
With her new position as a nanny for the prestigious Locke family, she's learning just how powerful secrets can be.

Orrick and Iris Locke, owners of the billion-dollar security company known as Locke Industries, are beautiful, mysterious, and seemingly perfect. When she enters their home, Olivia quickly discovers everything is not what it seems. The Lockes' elusive empire is built on dark and terrifying truths and with Olivia now a part of their lives, she has no choice but to play her role.

As she finds herself digging deeper into the Lockes' web of lies, Olivia begins to question everything she's learned. When the family's insidious nature is revealed, her loyalties will be put to the ultimate test.

In this installment of the standalone LOCKE INDUSTRIES SERIES, The Nanny's Secret may be the one to destroy everything...

"Compelling characters and poignant philosophical questions drive The Narrows.... An excellent family drama with suspense and heart." —IndieReader

A harrowing extraction of members of a religious cult goes awry. Junior high teacher Larry Brown teams up with experienced extractor nicknamed Black Lightning to rescue his cousin from a cult. But the mission is complicated by Larry's unfaithful girlfriend and the drowning of another cult member in the Charles River. And then Larry's cousin isn't as willing as Larry hoped. These events work together on a day in a family vacation home on Cape Cod to turn Larry's world upside down.

Spanning a ten-day period, The Narrows chronicles the personal and social challenges that took place during the cultural transformation of the 1970s.

More Reviews:

"Its special blend of psychological inspection with components of thriller reading will delight literary seekers of quality fiction." —Midwest Book Review

"…the different path individuals take to find their niche in the world. With Larry it's about maintaining the status quo—a respectable job, a nice apartment and a girlfriend—while Bradley is more open to exploring other avenues to find his nirvana.” —Foreword Magazine

Author Bio:

Mark Zvonkovic is a novelist and recovering lawyer who lives in Baja, California with his wife Nancy and their two dogs, Finn and Cooper.

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