Tag Archives: Action & Adventure

by Jennifer Reed/ bookjunkiez | July 3, 2023 · 5:00 am

Taken by the Siren Teaser

Paranormal Women’s Fiction, Urban Fantasy, Action Adventure

Date Published: July 7, 2023

photo add-to-goodreads-button_zpsc7b3c634.png

Michael Blessing thought he had everything he ever wanted when he met his
wife. Then he found out the truth, and his world was shattered by a car
accident. Coming home to Eerie was supposed to be his time to heal his
broken heart.

The siren had other ideas.

Lia Darling never forgot the shy, handsome young man she’d known when they
were children. Seeing Michael again awakens a need within her she can’t
explain or deny, but she’s been hurt before. She doesn’t want another dead
end, and when she looks into his eyes, she sees forever.

Maybe this second chance is just what they need to heal, move forward and
find love… together.

EXCERPT

“Home,” Michael Blessing murmured as he drove past the city limit line into
Eerie. He hadn’t been back in so long. Seemed like the day he left was the
last day he thought about his hometown. Silly, really. Eerie wasn’t a bad
place. It was quaint. Like a storybook town. The buildings were whimsical,
full of gingerbread and swirls, plus glitter and bright paint. The streets
were clean and the sidewalks wide. The flowers blossomed brighter, and the
people seemed to welcome everyone back.

There wasn’t a stranger in Eerie — except humans. They were all strangers,
but he wasn’t a human. His Fae father had married a woman who knew
witchcraft. They’d been a good pairing, and Michael had the best childhood.
Everyone thought his mother was human, but he hadn’t cared. He was
loved.

His parents were still alive and still cared about him. He was their son,
and they’d always love him, but they had no idea the depths of loneliness he
felt. They didn’t understand the grief he dealt with on a daily basis.

The woman he loved was dead. The moment he’d seen Chloe, he knew he wanted
her for the rest of his life. She’d be the best partner and eventually would
make him a father.

Then she had, but she died.

He hadn’t been able to manage the grief, not even a year and a half later.
He needed somewhere to hide. Eerie wasn’t the place to hide. Most everyone
in town stood out. Witches, Elves, Faeries, gargoyles, shifters and every
other kind of paranormal creature was there.

But he had a cabin in the woods on the other side of town, with a pier on
the lake and plenty of space to be quiet, to hide and regroup. No one would
bother him. He could write and be alone with no one bugging him, making him
come out of himself or pleading with him to be social.

He didn’t have any social in him.

Not today. Not this week. Maybe not ever.

His magic had dried up, too.

Did he care? A little, but not as much as he should. He drove through town,
then onto the side road leading to the woods. The beauty of Eerie was that
everyone had a space. The lake, the village, the little cottages, the woods…
If a paranormal creature wanted a space, there was one. If he wanted to hide
at his cabin and write, then practice his magic, then he could.

No one would annoy him.

He pulled into the dirt path that led to his cabin. The second he wound
through the trees to his little house, he felt better. Like he
belonged.

But that was always the way he felt when he came here. His heart was in the
woods, among the trees and peace. Maybe he was always meant to be alone.
Chloe had seen the most in him — more than anyone — but she was gone, and
he had to pick up the pieces.

He pulled into the dirt patch next to the cabin and parked. As the engine
cooled, he debated what to do. He needed to put up the carport to protect
the Jeep — not from the falling branches, but the leaves, rain and debris.
He supposed he could use his magic to protect the vehicle, too. Probably
should do that. It’d be a reason to practice his magic and prevent too much
damage to his Jeep.

Despite needing to put the carport together, he left his vehicle and headed
into the cabin. The place would need a lot of cleaning up, but he could use
those tasks to procrastinate instead of writing.

He carried his bag into the cabin, then set about to put the tarp, PVC and
canvas carport up. If nothing else, the carport would hide his vehicle, and
maybe if anyone saw the lights on, they’d leave him alone.

He hated being so despondent and crabby, but he’d been hurt and had no idea
how to get over his loss.

An hour later, he managed to secure the Jeep in the carport and even
cleaned up the living room enough for living. He added a bit of magic to the
carport, adding extra strength to the canvas to protect his vehicle. He’d
murmured the words and checked to ensure the spell had gone correctly. Sure
enough, it had, and he grinned.

At least one thing had gone his way.

He headed back into the house, and his stomach grumbled. He should eat, but
there wasn’t anything in the fridge. Hell, the fridge hadn’t even been
turned on. He needed to make a run to the store, but also should set up the
Internet, too.

He cleaned the dust from the living room, then set about getting the
kitchen in order. He removed the sheets around the house to reveal the
furniture and, as he worked, he swore he heard music.

A familiar song. Sweet, too.

He paused, and his thoughts turned to a song he remembered from his
childhood. A girl he’d known had sung the song, but probably never where she
thought anyone could hear her.

He chuckled to himself. He hadn’t thought about that girl or the song in
ages. What was her name? She’d been a sweet young woman, with flame-red hair
and fiery eyes. She rarely spoke, but she’d filled out quickly and wore
revealing clothes. She grabbed attention wherever she went, but no one
really got to know her.

He knew her name. He’d lusted after her the entire time they were in
school.

Lia.

About the Author

Megan Slayer, aka Wendi Zwaduk, is a multi-published, award-winning author
of more than one-hundred short stories and novels. She’s been writing since
2008 and published since 2009. Her stories range from the contemporary and
paranormal to LGBTQ and white hot themes. No matter what the length, her
works are always hot, but with a lot of heart. She enjoys giving her
characters a second chance at love, no matter what the form. She’s been
nominated at the LRC for Best Author, Best Contemporary, Best Ménage, Best
BDSM and Best Anthology. Her books have made it to the bestseller lists on
various e-tailer sites.

When she’s not writing, Megan spends time with her husband and son as well
as three dogs and three cats. She enjoys art, music and racing, but football
is her sport of choice. She’s an active member of the Friends of the
Keystone-LaGrange Public library.

Author Contact Links

Author on Facebook

Author on Twitter

Author on Instagram

Publisher on Facebook, Twitter & Instagram: @changelingpress

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by Jennifer Reed/ bookjunkiez | June 13, 2023 · 5:00 am

Giant’s Garden Teaser Tuesday

(Celtic Magic, Book 4)

Action Adventure, Dark Fantasy, Paranormal Women’s Fiction, Romance,
Suspense, Urban Fantasy

Date Published: June 16, 2023

A grant to do doctorate work in a bleak corner of Northern Ireland is Penny
Gallagher’s last chance to find her wings and break free of her
oppressive industrialist boyfriend.

When she finds her time there has been engineered for her boyfriend’s
profit, it takes a voiceless giant of a man to help her discover her own
magic.

Excerpt

Penny

The Giant’s Causeway

Sean Feeney took another long drag from his pocket flask. Heavy gold chains
around his wrist grated against the flask’s metal rim. Penny Gallagher
watched him sway unsteadily in his skinny designer jeans and black Converse
high tops.

He reached out and draped his bony arm around her shoulders. She
couldn’t tell whether it was to keep himself from falling over or an
awkward maneuver meant to be making a pass at her.

She hoped it was the latter. First off, they were standing at the top of a
cliff. Not just any cliff, but a bare, windswept cliff tumbled with black
hexagonal stone columns jutting out into the North Channel of the Irish Sea
between the north coast of Ireland and the west coast of Scotland. If Sean
dropped onto those lichen-pocked rocks it would mean a fatal mess involving
a lot of paperwork and long, dim conversations with uniformed authorities.
And if I fell… no, she told herself firmly, we’re not going
down that line of thinking right now.

Secondly, she hadn’t gotten laid since James Carbill threw her over
six months ago for some new interior designer he had fallen for. And to tell
the truth, she had not been laid decently for months before that.
James’s steel-blue eyes had started wandering elsewhere long before
that ugly day when he’d told her that she needed to move out of the
Beacon Hill apartment he had been keeping her in, and that both of her
positions — as his personal assistant, and as his sexual partner and dinner
party arm candy — were terminated effective immediately.

James had softened the blow a bit by pulling some strings to secure this
grant so she could finish her doctorate degree in psychology from
Boston’s Fauntel University, and that’s how she wound up
standing on top of a windy cliff, watching Sean’s long, shaggy blond
hair blow into his eyes, which were fixed vacantly on the horizon.

She reached up to her shoulder and twined the fingers of her right hand
with Sean’s, hoping to lower the odds that they’d both go off
the cliff. The smell of salt spray on stone mingled with alcohol fumes. She
reached for his flask with her left.

“Give me a hit of that,” she said, raising her voice over the
wind. “You can’t have all the fun yourself.”

He handed her the flask absent-mindedly, its cap dangling from a little
silver chain. She took a swig. Smoky, peaty whiskey seeped into her tongue
and the flesh of her throat, straight into her bloodstream. She would swear
it never even hit her stomach.

“All this,” Sean said, gesturing broadly with a wobbling sweep
of his arm. Penny braced her feet, but they did not topple over. “When
you write your… your… thing.”

“My thesis.”

“Your thee, your thing. On all this. You’ll make millions of
dollars. We’ll all make millions of dollars. Because everyone will
want it.”

Penny took another hit of the whiskey. It felt mellower this time, as if
she and the whiskey were getting acquainted. “No one ever made
millions of dollars on their psychology doctorate thesis,” she
said.

“Oh, but you will.” Sean turned around, his face close to hers,
and poked her hard in the chest with the point of his index finger.
“You will. I will. Everyone will. Because this,” he swept his
arm out again along the horizon, “this is the Giant’s Causeway.
You’ll write about why it makes people feel so good — you feel good,
right?”

Penny nodded skeptically. He didn’t wait for her response before
rambling on.

“Because it makes people feel so good that they will all want to live
here, and I’m selling my land to the American developer who will give
them all a place to live. And everyone else will too. Just as soon as you
are done.”

Penny smirked and shook her head. It’s true that her doctorate
proposal had talked about the intersection of landscape and psychology, and
the grant that James had helped her secure had sent her to this bleak,
forsaken, vertical drop-off to write about it. But in point of fact, she had
not yet started writing, and now that she was here, she could not for her
life figure out what to write about.

“Sean, you handsome devil,” she said. “It’s a pile
of rocks.” Basalt, she noted to herself, recalling one of the
guidebooks she’d read on the plane. Lava from a volcanic episode,
cooled slowly, formed hexagonal columns. Why do people find the myths more
interesting than the science?

About the Author

Siondalin O’Craig writes romance with the slow burn of a peat fire on
an autumn night deep in the woodland hills. Sip a glass of Irish whiskey,
turn the page, and let the magic overtake you. Siondalin lives in the
mountains of New England where she walks under the trees celebrating the
wheel of the year, grows a luscious garden full of magical herbs, and plays
a wicked Irish fiddle. Follow her on Facebook and email her at
siondalinocraig@gmail.com to sign up for her newsletter.

Publisher on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram: @changelingpress

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by Jennifer Reed/ bookjunkiez | March 7, 2023 · 5:00 am

Emelia’s Soldiers Teaser Tuesday

SciFi Romance, Action Adventure, Multiple Partners

Date Published: March 10 2023

Tired of being taken for granted, Emelia Drake decides to confront her
latest loser boyfriend. Instead of the satisfaction she hoped for, she finds
herself caught in an elaborate and dangerous web.

Nick Cormac and Chase Turner seek to protect an innocent woman from the web
of darkness that’s shattered their lives. The survivors of dark
experiments and torture at the hands of a mercenary who wanted to create a
legion of superior soldiers, Nick and Chase are part of an elite,
highly-skilled group intending to stop the mercenary once and for all.

They know Emelia is too good for them and their world, but that
doesn’t change the fact that they want her. Will they be able to keep
her safe? How can they ever let her go?

EXCERPT

Emelia Drake’s heart dropped as she spotted Scott’s car parked
at a seedy-looking bar on the outskirts of the city. Amy, her coworker who
lived nearby, had mentioned seeing Scott’s very distinctive Camaro at
the bar several times lately. Emelia wouldn’t have been curious except
that over the last several days, she hadn’t had a lot of luck reaching
him. Once he explained his phone’s battery had died. Another time he
was out of range, working with some new client.

It had been a month now and she’d barely seen him. Emelia tried hard
to give him the benefit of the doubt, she really did. Scott was an
architect, and a good one. It was one of the reasons she liked having him as
a boyfriend, shallow as it was to admit. But who was she kidding? Scott had
cheated on her before. A couple of times. And the chants of “if he
does it once” from well meaning friends were really starting to get
old.

So, Emelia had gotten home from work, downed a couple of small glasses of
bourbon for courage, and decided to go for a ride. In her gut, she knew
she’d find him. She always did.

This time, though. This time she wouldn’t sit out in the parking lot
staring at his car in tears. She had no intention of driving away in shame
and waiting until he got tired of the other woman and came back to her. No.
Not this time.

Climbing out of the car, Emelia braced herself. She was going to look so
out of place in there. Here she was in her pencil skirt and blouse, kitten
heels and her hair up in a neat twist. Why hadn’t her dumb ass changed
clothes?

But she just had to do this. She had to face him down. Just once.

Because this was over.

Yanking open the door, she walked into a classic smoky barroom, filled with
rougher people than she normally kept company with. Emelia mentally shook
her head. What was Scott doing here? It usually pained him to converse with
anyone making less than a hundred grand a year and he was here?

Some old rock tune with a heavy bass blared above the din of conversation
around her. She tried to see if she could spot him there. She was
half-praying that she wouldn’t, that it was an incredible coincidence,
that someone had a Camaro just like his. She could go home, crawl into her
bed, and just hide there for a day or two.

When her heel caught on a rough board, Emelia almost went flying, but
strong hands steadied her as she regained her balance. Turning, she glanced
up at her rescuer and just stared. Steel blue eyes met hers set in a truly
handsome face, all strong-jaw and nice lines with a scruffy beard and thick,
wavy dark hair that just touched his shoulders.

Damn. Why had she never come here before?

“Thank you,” she told him, truly grateful that he saved her
from making a spectacle of her self earlier than she intended.

“You okay?” he asked, his gaze raking her over.

Emelia nodded, looking him over, too. He was all muscles covered in denim
and leather and…

She needed to focus. Find Scott. You’re not here for the hot biker
dude.

“Yeah, thank you,” she told him with a smile. She left him
there, watching as he took a seat across from a blond who was even bigger
than he was and just as gorgeous. The blond’s eyes lit up with
amusement. When he caught her gaze, he winked at her.

Jesus.

When she reached the very back of the bar, she spotted Scott in a booth,
wearing a leather jacket she’d never seen before, with a T-shirt and
jeans. That was new. Snuggled up against his side was a very attractive
woman with a head full of flame-red ringlets, big green eyes, and
ruby-painted lips. She laughed at something Scott said, and he answered by
pressing a kiss just under her ear, nuzzling under her hair.

Emelia’s heart sank. Well, okay then.

Across from them sat a huge guy with a military haircut and his back to
her, so she couldn’t get a good look at him. Now what are you going to
do, genius?

It had been a mistake to walk in. Especially when she knew what she’d
find. Just as she knew she’d let him come crawling back to her when he
was done with the Julia Roberts wannabe.

And it was at that moment Scott spotted her.

His dark eyes widened. Shocked, he abruptly jumped up from the seat,
throwing the redhead off in a way Emelia would have found comical if
circumstances were different. “Emelia, what are you doing here?”
Scott asked in a not-so-steady voice. His eyes were glassy and red, and he
wasn’t entirely stable on his feet. He’d been drinking. A
lot.

Emelia smiled, wanting to come across as sassy and empowered but not quite
hitting that note. “I saw your car outside.” She jerked her
thumb in the direction of the bar’s entrance. “I thought
I’d stop by and say hi.”

“Is this your girlfriend?” The redhead was beaming at her from
the seat, her chin propped in one hand. “She’s so… sweet.
Don’t you think she’s sweet, Alex?”

The military guy glanced over his shoulder at her, his dark gaze roaming
over her in a way that made her cringe. Then he smirked at her.
“Yeah.”

Scott’s gaze shifted from Alex to Emelia and back again. Licking his
lips, he returned his attention to her. He looked nervous. Somehow, she
didn’t think it was because he’d been caught by his girlfriend
snuggling up to a redhead.

“I’m going to be out for a while tonight,” Scott told
Emelia. “Why don’t you go on home and I’ll call you
tomorrow? Yeah?”

Something was wrong. Usually when she confronted Scott about any of his
little side bitches, he’d be furious. That has been part of the reason
confronting him in a public place had seemed like a good idea. As pissy mad
as he usually got, in public he wouldn’t be able to throw things at
her or swing at her as he normally did. Not without risking someone would
get the police involved.

Now Scott just seemed… worried. What had he gotten himself
into?

Emelia nodded, uneasy. “I’m going to take off. Don’t
worry about calling me,” she said in a shaky voice. “I’m
good.”

The line was meant to mark her exit. Just as she turned around, a hand
caught her elbow. She looked up in fear as Alex rose from his side of the
booth, his grip on her firm. He was a big guy, towering over her. The smirk
he wore just made it worse. “So, does that mean you’re available
now, sweet thing?” Alex drawled, his grip tightening around her
bicep.

Emelia yanked on her arm to pull free. His fingers flexed. Now it hurt.
“Let me go, please.” Emelia forced herself to meet his gaze.
“Please?”

“Hey, man,” Scott jumped in at that point. “Hey,
she’s—”

Alex held up his other hand to cut him off. “I’m just going to
walk her out to her car. It’s a rough neighborhood. I just want to
make sure she’s taken care of.”

The redhead’s grin widened, and Emelia’s stomach dropped.
“I’ll be fine,” Emelia told him as forcefully as she could
manage.

Alex lowered his face, his dark, mean eyes glaring into hers. “I
insist.” Alex walked around her and then proceeded to pretty much drag
her away from the booth. A quick look back showed Scott just watching, with
his mouth hanging open.

Emelia struggled, trying to pull free. When the front entrance came into
sight, she decided she’d just start screaming. No way she was going to
let the man drag her out of the bar and do who-knew-what with her.

Abruptly, the man came to a halt in front of her, causing her to run into
his back. Something had surprised him enough to loosen his grip and Emelia
yanked back the moment she felt it, pulling free of him. As she made it
around him, she realized it was the blond man who’d been sitting with
her rescuer who’d stopped them. And while Alex whoever-he-was was a
big guy, he had nothing on the blond blocking his exit. The hot guy with
long, dark hair stepped in front of her, shielding her from Alex.

“You’re in our way,” Alex growled at the taller
man.

The man had sky-blue eyes, a strong jaw, and blond hair cut short. His
shoulders were as wide as church doors and his muscles had muscles under a
heavy, worn leather coat, shirt and jeans. He cut an intimidating figure as
his glare locked with that of the guy who’d been trying to drag her
out of the bar.

“I’m not blocking your way,” the blond corrected him,
tipping his head in Emelia’s direction.

She felt much safer tucked behind the broad back of the dark-haired man.
Her palms were pressed to his back and he felt muscly, too. Damn.

“She’s with me,” Alex told him, his voice low.

“You with him, sweetheart?” the blond asked her.

Emelia shook her head. “No, I’m not.”

“Guess that means she’s with us,” the brunet said,
grinning over his shoulder at her. “You with us?”

Emelia didn’t know these two anymore than she did Alex, but the vibes
she got from them felt much safer. She was willing to chance it.
“Yes,” Emelia said loud enough for Alex to hear.

Alex’s glare had her heart lurching in her chest. After a meaningful
moment, that intense gaze shifted back to the blond. “My
mistake,” he said, his lips pressed into a thin line. When he headed
back in the direction of Scott’s table, she released the breath she
hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

The two men waited until he was out of earshot before herding her back to
the booth where they’d been sitting. The dark-haired man seated her
between himself and the wall.

“How you fellas doing?” A tall waitress with curly hair smiled
at them as she stopped at their booth.

“A couple more,” the blond motioned to the mostly empty glasses
on the table before them. “What about you, sweetheart?”

Drinking was the last thing she should be contemplating but she was going
to need to calm down, to get her mind around what just happened. “A
Whiskey Sour, please.”

The waitress nodded. “Be right back.”

“You okay?” the blond asked, the concern in those bright blue
eyes seeming genuine.

Emelia nodded. “I will be. I think.”

“What are you doing here?” the brunet asked meaningfully.

She blew out a sharp breath. “Confronting a cheating
boyfriend?”

The two of them exchanged a look. “That was your boyfriend?”
The brunet jerked his thumb in the direction of Scott’s table.

Emelia shook her head. “I don’t know the big guy. Scott’s
my boyfriend. Was my boyfriend. He’s the one back there all over the
redhead.”

“Do you know the woman?” the blond wanted to know.

Emelia shook her head again.

“Well, sorry about that,” the brunet said slowly. “But
you might have bigger problems now.”

“Why?” Then she stopped, remembered how uneasy Scott had seemed
at her arrival. “He’s gotten into something he shouldn’t
have, huh?”

Again, the two men exchanged a look.

“You can tell me.” Her relationship was definitely over now.
Whatever was going on between him and redhead and Alex? She wanted no part
of that.

“Yeah, he’s gotten himself into something he shouldn’t
have,” the brunet went on. “Problem is, they’ve seen you
now.”

“So?” Emelia thanked the waitress who came back with the round
of drinks. “I don’t have anything to do with it.”

The blond held up a hand to halt their conversation until the waitress
left.

“You do if they think they can use you against him,” the blond
explained.

“Excuse me?” Emelia stared at him as she worked on her drink,
enjoying the way it burned into her stomach. “I don’t think they
missed the part where I showed up and found him cuddled up to another woman.
I told him not to call me. It’s over. Done. Whatever is going on there
doesn’t involve me.”

“It does if they think they can use you to motivate him to do
something they want,” the brunet continued. “Do you know
anything about them? Why he’s with them?”

“Are you undercover cops or something?” Emelia wanted to know,
fear creeping into her head. “Why all the questions?”

“We’re the ones who are going to get your ass safely out of
here, so don’t worry about it,” the blond snapped. “Do you
know anything about them?”

The impatient tone got her attention. “No, I don’t.”
Emelia forced herself to meet his gaze. “Scott’s an architect.
He’d been telling me that he was putting in a lot of hours with a new
client, a woman. He’s designing some sort of special building for her.
That’s what he told me. I really haven’t heard anything from him
for weeks, so I found him here and decided to confront him. Guess it
wasn’t my best idea.”

“You’re in the wrong place at the wrong time,” the brunet
told her. “I’ll give you that. What’s your
name?”

She looked from him to the blond and back, ultimately deciding that it was
in her best interest to be nice. “Emelia,” she told him.
“Who are you?”

“He’s Nick,” the brunet offered. “I’m
Chase.”

Emelia worked on downing her drink, trying to calm the riot of thoughts in
her head. She’d shown up to confront her loser boyfriend. His cheating
ways had apparently led him to get involved with some people he should have
avoided. What happened now? All she really wanted to do now was go home,
call in sick for the rest of the week and feel sorry for herself with more
bourbon and ice cream.

Something told her she wasn’t going to get her wish.

“Thank you,” she said after a moment. “Whatever’s
going on, you didn’t have to keep him from dragging me out of here,
but you did.”

Something like admiration lit Nick’s eyes and he nodded.

The brunet, Chase, sat back on the booth seat, wrapping an arm around her
shoulders. Emelia stiffened but she didn’t protest. “Can I go
home now?” Emelia hated the pitiful note in her own voice.

“Do you live close by?” Nick asked, scrubbing a hand over his
jaw.

Emelia shrugged. “I’m about three miles away. I’ll be
okay to drive.”

Nick shook his head. “I’m sure you are, but if he decides to
look for you, it won’t take him long at all to find you.”

Emelia’s heart ached in her chest. “Why would he? Apparently, I
don’t matter to Scott.” Oh, that hurt to admit. And come find
her? How insane was what they were telling her? They couldn’t be
right, could they?

Chase’s gaze locked with hers. “Doesn’t matter to them.
And Alex seems like the type of guy who’d make the most of his
mistake.”

Emelia didn’t mistake his meaning. What if he did come looking for
her? What could she do? Both men watched her reaction while her mind
reeled.

“Hey,” Nick got her attention, pulled her out of her mind.
“Sorry. Not trying to scare the shit out of you. Just trying to be
realistic. I’m sorry you stumbled into this, but you did.”

Whatever it was, it was real. She’d felt so uncomfortable at
Scott’s table when she’d gone back there to face him. Something
had been off about the entire situation. What if they were right? What if
she was in danger?

“We’ll keep you safe,” Nick told her…

About the Author

Isabella Jordan is the alter ego of an otherwise stressed out web designer,
programmer, and internet junkie. When she’s not trying to perfect her own
personal caffeine IV drip, she enjoys spending time with her family, doing
volunteer work, and writing. She loves creating new stories of all kinds and
chatting with readers and friends.

Isabella would love to hear from her readers!

Follow the Publisher on Instagram/Facebook/Twitter: @changelingpress

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by Jennifer Reed/ bookjunkiez | December 26, 2022 · 5:00 am

The Canadian Beaver Lodge Assassins Association Virtual Book Tour

Action/Adventure

Date Published: November 30, 2022

Publisher: Acorn Publishing

On a routine delivery, courier Jaxy Thrie must ferry a priceless
item—a Fabergé guardian angel once worn by the Empress Maria
Feodorovna—to a Russian heiress in British Columbia. Things get out of
hand when Jaxy loses the valuable medallion. He finds himself in fast
trouble with the Romanov Guild, who accuses him of theft. It falls on Jaxy
to restore the national treasure to the Royal Museum while dodging bullets
from a greedy band of robbers, the Mounties, and the Canadian Beaver Lodge
Assassins Association.

EXCERPT

“Where did those donut-eatin’ cops come from?” asked Jaxy, shifting into overdrive and spraying a rooster-tail of mud and gravel at the gawkers who’d come out of the pub to watch him blow through the traffic light. In the mirror, he saw a flashing cherrytop turn in while two others bore down on his tail. Coming upon a construction site for a winery expansion with earthmovers parked for the night, Jaxy downshifted, killed the headlights, cranked the wheel, and emergency braked into the graded area.

The van skated over a film of black ice, clipped a skip loader, and caromed into a row of seedlings planted at the back of the lot. Through the hedge of sage and softwoods the van chomped its way to slam sideways against the winery’s aging barn. The muffled crash of magnum bottles prefaced the structural creaking, until a louder rumbling started, and a season’s worth of snow slid off the roof to bury the van under rotten ice from tires to bubbletop.

With his heart pumping triple-time, Jaxy set out his driver’s license and registration with fumbling fingers, and then meekly waited for the nightsticks, stun guns, and other state-sanctioned thuggery. For openers, they would book him for running a red with a stolen plate and an open container, followed by reckless driving and evasion, destruction of property, and instigating a bar fight under the influence of cheap rye. From there, they would move on to the more fascinating charges of drug trafficking and terrorism in cahoots with a Wild West Cowgirl, and the abduction and homicide of a Saskatonian Mountie.

Blurry, bright searchlights streaked about. They seemed to be waiting for back-up before accosting a stewed fugitive, armed and dangerous in a van full of guns, drugs and dynamite. Jaxy hardly dared to breath lest, misreading his intention, they open fire. After twenty minutes, the deputies crossed the highway to beat about a bed and breakfast, then cut the spotlights, stopped shouting, and exited the scene. Dumbfounded, Jaxy held his breath for another five minutes, all the time thanking his lucky stars that a K-9 unit didn’t show, or they would have had him in their jaws before their paws hit the ground.

Panting for fresh air, Jaxy kicked out through the side door into a night of mixed blessings. The Dodge had taken out none but the smallest of shrubs, while the limber saplings and leafy shoots had rebounded, obscuring him from his pursuers. The avalanche of snow off the barn roof concealed the rest. With the rear dug out, he reorganized things. The Glenlivet bottle had rolled forward. In need of a nip to calm his jitters, Jaxy closed the back, came around to the side, and reached for the scotch.

“Jillian!” he recoiled, hitting his head, and breaking off the mirror. With a stomach still churning from the putrid stench and teacup ride, it took all Jaxy had to keep his dinner of oysters and ice cream down. A butchered body sat buckled behind in a scissor-cut miniskirt and poofy, polka-dot top. Blackened and mud-caked strands of hair held down by a watch cap plastered the once fine face. Tacked to the bloated torso a tagboard read, “Your Turn Jack”.

In tortured agony, Jaxy brushed the clotted bangs aside and stared, not into Jillian’s eyes, but at the missing Mounted Policeman Pierre de Chavoie.

“Eee-yuck! Rory, you depraved animal!” shrilled Jaxy through alternating waves of revulsion and relief. After a refreshing jog around the winery and a hand scrub of snow, he backed up the van, forming a makeshift igloo where he dragged the Mountie’s decaying remains, burying it under the snow and ice. Then, up the vintner’s drive, Jaxy stealthily drove with lights off. A new parade of black and whites went screaming by. In the shelter of a pumphouse, he stopped to throw open the van doors to let the rancid odor fade while tuning in the radio.

It did not take long to find a station buzzing of the near capture of Jackson Thrie in Totum, Washington, who, after a thrilling, high-speed chase in and out of side streets evaded law enforcers to inexplicably disappear on the edge of town. Evidence left at the pub sent the Klickitat Sheriff to a nearby monastery in search of the desperado.

“Side streets?” Jaxy looked up and down the empty roadway. “What side streets?”

About the Author

A lifetime resident of California, Jerry moved to Santa Barbara after
graduating from USC to work in the aerospace industry. Today, he designs
night-vision cameras for everyday use. In his free time, Jerry likes to
write and use his musical talent to compose original scores for piano and
guitar. After his first loves—song and storytelling—Jerry enjoys
hiking, spending time in the garden, and baking sourdough bread.

Contact Link

Website

Instagram: @jerrycripewriter

Purchase Links

Amazon

Barnes and Noble

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Tagged as Action & Adventure, Jerry Cripe, The Canadian Beaver Lodge Assassins Association

by Jennifer Reed/ bookjunkiez | November 30, 2022 · 5:00 am