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Fade Out & Dead Air – Blitz

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Fade Out
Mystery / Crime
Date Published: Fade Out: March 2016
Publisher: Short on Time Books (www.ShortOnTimeBooks.com)
 
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Young radio reporter Lisa Powers has a lot to learn, but in her zeal to cover the big city crime beat, finds herself facing down criminals in addition to reporting on them.
From the dark streets of the metro Phoenix area to the peaceful red rocks of Sedona, Lisa dodges bullets investigating the cold case of a kidnapped bank executive found murdered, and discovers horrors she never imagined while tracking down a missing father.
She’s first on the scene of a massive fire that destroys the opulent mansion of a reclusive pharmaceutical heir, but her career is jeopardized when the story gets way too hot.

Dead Air
Mystery / Crime
Date Published: Dead Air: March 2017
Publisher: Short on Time Books (www.ShortOnTimeBooks.com)
 
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Young radio reporter Lisa Powers follows her hunches to help solve criminal cases, but at the risk of denying her own emotional health.
She comes face to face with a suspected cop shooter, but refuses to admit how the harrowing experience continues to haunt her.
She’s resolute in the search for a violent rapist in a 15-year-old cold case, unwavering in her mission to bring closure to the tormented young woman who was sexually abused when she was four.
Lisa introduces “L.N. Pane, P. I,” the lead podcast character in a 1940s film noir saga of a gritty female gumshoe gunning to finger someone trying to bump off a gent.
Excerpt
Chapter 1
MONDAY, APRIL 8
“ … with mostly sunny skies and an expected high of about 87 today. More news from KWLF News Radio right after this.”
It’s still dark outside KWLF-FM, a small radio station in Chandler, Arizona, and I’m the only one at work at the ridiculous hour of 4:45 a.m. Most 20-somethings I know would’ve been out partying last night and would be sleeping in or at least going to work at the normal time of 8 or 9. I’m sitting here in this tiny anchor booth, all by myself, these headsets smashing my long hair, talking into a mic, probably to no one. I mean, who is up listening to the radio except for insomniacs and maybe the few surviving farmers in this mostly urban area?
Time for a commercial. I touch a button and music starts, followed by a male announcer’s voice hawking cars for a used auto lot.
I gingerly push an antiquated square audio cart into the machine. One of these days we’ll get real digital equipment. Of course, I think that every time I handle a piece of this older KWLF equipment, afraid it will crumble in my hand and we’ll go off the air and…
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Grant Pope, our news director, enter from the back of the station. He takes off his hat and sticks it on a coatrack near the door. I wave, he waves back, but he looks tired as he heads to his desk. He’s a short, thin man, with graying hair and a lot of lines on his face. These days his step isn’t as springy as it used to be, and is he actually having trouble sitting down onto his chair?
He’s been an institution here for more than 20 years, and one who has a “nose for news.” I hear he came up through the ranks in the early days of radio as a reporter, anchor and then news director. He still writes frequent news stories, but several of my co-workers and I wonder when he’s going to retire. He looks up, but I pretend I wasn’t staring at him.
Another 30 seconds. I thumb through the news stories, change the order. The music and announcer’s voice ends, and I turn my attention back to the microphone.
“This is KWLF news. I’m Lisa Powers, filling in for Pat Henderson. In this exclusive KWLF story, an East Valley woman says her father is missing, and she suspects foul play,” I read from my script. “Joan Rogers-Hartley says her dad, 67-year-old Mark Rogers, took off early Sunday morning to drive to Northern Arizona for a bird watching trip—but never arrived. According to her, she thinks something is very wrong.”
I tap a red button on the cart machine marked ROGERS-HARTLEY SOT, which starts Joan’s voice.
“He was supposed to meet some friends of his in Clarkdale, where they were going to look for northern cardinals and red-winged hawks for a couple of days,” Hartley says, sniffling. “But they said he never made it.”
I continue. “Rogers-Hartley says Chandler police are quote ‘dragging their feet,’ unquote. KWLF Radio will follow this story and bring updates throughout the day. Anyone with any knowledge of the whereabouts of Mark Rogers is asked to call police.
“In other local news, the Chandler City Council meets in study session tonight to discuss rezoning of a large parcel of land initially slated for commercial development to be changed to residential. Grant Pope has details.”
I hit a button and Grant’s voice is heard. I lean back and listen.
Grant opens the door to the booth and pokes his head in.
“Was that missing man story on the wire?”
Uh-oh, I knew he’d ask that.
“Nope, the daughter called last night while I was here working on another story.” I could tell by Grant’s frown he wasn’t pleased. “I know, I know, we don’t usually do missing person stories until the police are called in, but that woman was really spooked. She seriously thinks he’s in trouble. And we did get the exclusive…”
“All right, stay on it.”
Yes! “Of course, I’ll follow up as soon as Pat gets here. He is going to be in today, right?”
“As far as I—”
I hold up a finger to indicate silence, as the tagline “Grant Pope for KWLF Radio” is heard. As Grant slips out the door, I turn back to the mic and continue to read more news.
About the Author

Laurie Fagen is a long-time “writer by habit” who has written for radio and television news; corporate video, films and documentaries; and magazines and newspapers.
An honorable mention in Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine’s Mysterious Photograph short story contest and a life-long love of reading whodunits led to three published short stories in Sisters in Crime Desert Sleuths Chapter anthologies. She’s published two crime fiction mystery novels, “Fade Out” and “Dead Air,” and has book #3, “Bleeder,” in her “Behind the Mic” mysteries out in Spring 2018, along with a “Tawnee Mountain Mysteries” multi-author series novella called “Deadly Misfire,” also due in Spring 2018.
Former publisher of a Chandler, AZ community newspaper with her late husband, Geoff Hancock, she is also a jazz singer and artist.
A member of Sisters in Crime (SinC), Fagen lives in the Phoenix metro area.
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Asleep From Day – Blitz

 

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Contemporary/General Fiction
Date Published: January 10th, 2018
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Astrid can’t remember the best day of her life: yesterday.
A traumatic car accident erases Astrid’s memories of September 9th, the day she spent with an oddly charming stranger named Theo. Ever since, she’s been haunted by surreal dreams and an urgent sense that she’s forgotten something important. One night, she gets a mysterious call from Oliver, who knows more about her than he should and claims he can help her remember. She accepts his help, even as she questions his motives and fights a strange attraction to him.
In order to find Theo and piece together that lost day in September, Astrid must navigate a maze of eccentric Boston nightlife, from the seedy corners of Chinatown to a drug-fueled Alice-in-Wonderland-themed party to a club where everyone dresses like the dead. In between headaches and nightmares, she struggles to differentiate between memory, fantasy, and reality, and starts to wonder if Theo really exists. Eventually, she’ll need to choose between continuing her search for him or following her growing feelings for Oliver. Astrid might go to extreme lengths to find what she’s lost . . . or might lose even more in her pursuit to remember (like her sanity).
 “A compelling and original take on the classic amnesia tale . . . The narrative bursts with detailed, vivid characters . . . The dialogue is expertly crafted.” – The BookLife Prize
“Simply riveting from start to finish… a captivating, literary piece that winds a path somewhere between mystery, romance, and psychological thriller.” – D. Donovan, Senior Reviewer, Midwest Book Review
Excerpt
What’s the last thing you remember?
A rumble, a static rush, the world on a dimmer switch.
Outside, everything was gray.
But inside, a galaxy of color and light. Fireflies behind my eyes, neon in my bones. A nerve net of bioluminescence.
Radiant with hope. Glorious.
Do you know where you are?
In the heart of a storm. Give me lightning. Give me the flood. I’ve bled the sky of pigment, devoured its clouds. They remain like honey on my tongue, crystalized with promise. Nothing was ever sweeter.
What happened?
Something incredible.
Something terrible.
No more color. Fade to grey.
I’ve been robbed of this elation.
Stay with me.
I have the weirdest taste in my mouth. Metallic, like I’ve been sucking on pennies, and spicy—no, not spicy. Stinging. Blood. What the—? I move my tongue and feel tiny pebbles. They’re sharp, cutting my gums and the insides of my cheeks. Not pebbles. Teeth? No. Glass.
I turn to spit out pieces of broken glass, but there’s something around my neck and I can’t move it. Okay, don’t panic. I push the glass out of my mouth with the tip of my tongue and pieces roll down my chin on a trail of saliva and blood. Now let’s turn on a light in here.
I open my eyes. Huh.
What is this place? There are shelves of equipment, strange monitors, dials, wires. Some kind of . . . storage room? The image blurs and wobbles. If my head is a handheld camera, whoever’s operating it has a serious case of the shakes. I can’t get a steady picture and I have no idea what this place is.
Have I been kidnapped?
That thought should trigger some modicum of fear. But it’s like I’m trapped in a block of ice and fear is on the other side of it. I can barely muster any curiosity to figure out where I am. The rest of it—how I got here, if I’m safe, hurt, etc.—will have to wait.
So let’s see. The room is tiny, and moving, and noisy. There are beeps, the hiss and tinny chatter of a walkie-talkie, the looped bellow of a siren.
Seriously, where am I?
Nowhere good, a black whisper warns, and a fog in my mind parts, clearing a path for fear, the belated guest.
The image finally snaps into focus and it registers: an ambulance.
Why the fuck am I in an ambulance?
I sit up with a—nope, I can only lift my head maybe an inch.
Why aren’t you panicking more?
Because it’s getting foggy inside my head again and blurry outside of it. I could really use a nap. It’s so chilly in here. And bright. Might as well close my eyes and deal with this in the morning. Ah, the dark is much better.
Hang on. Let’s get some questions answered first, maybe make sure I’m not missing any limbs. I try to sit up again and a hand on my shoulder prevents me from rising any further. No, it’s not just the hand. I’m strapped in.
“Nice to see you coming around, but don’t try to sit up. My name is Leo and I’m a paramedic. Do you know today’s date?”
I squint but can’t make out the face above me.
“September ninth, 1999,” I mumble.
“It’s actually September tenth,” he corrects me. Close enough.
“What happened? Am I hurt?” Of course you’re hurt, genius. I doubt you’re tied to a gurney, with a mouthful of glass, just joyriding in an ambulance.
“It’s going to be okay, Astrid, we’re almost at the hospital.”
How does this guy know my name? Why am I going to the hospital? Because that’s usually the drop-off destination of ambulances. Try to keep up here. What happened to me?
My head is so damn heavy. Back down it goes, more blood, more spit trickling out of the corners of my mouth. I form words but can’t speak them. I manage a garbled whisper, but it’s drowned out by sirens, rattling noises, and the tapping of heavy rain on the ambulance roof.
I need to take stock. I’m mostly immobile, but am I paralyzed? I try to wiggle the toes. Okay, those work fine. Fingers? The ones on the left hand move then seize up in pain. Blinded? Obviously not, but my vision is still fuzzy at the edges. Obviously, I can’t move my head much, but I shouldn’t anyway, in case I have a concussion. Or worse. Go away, black whisper, I don’t need you scaring the shit out of me right now.
Back to my self-assessment. Do I feel pain anywhere else in my body? Now that I mention it, hell yes. Where? Everywhere, especially my left side.
Why can’t I remember how this happened? I keep asking the paramedic, but he won’t tell me. Why won’t he answer me?
Oh yeah, because he can’t actually hear me. Because my lips are barely moving and no sound is coming out.
It’s an effort to form any more words or keep my eyes open. Is there a cold, heavy blanket over me? Uh-oh, those blurry edges are going dark. It’s like someone pushed me into a deep well and I’m falling in slow motion.
“Try to stay awake, Astrid.”
Fingers snap in front of my face.
Cut it out, ambulance man. You’re messing up my nap. It’s so much nicer with my eyes closed. All you do is boss me around with “Don’t sit up” this and “Stay awake” that. The darkness is quiet and doesn’t make annoying demands.
“Astrid. Astrid!”
His voice is like a megaphone in my ear. Where is your mute button, ambulance man?
I think I found it. It’s here, further down in the dark.
I hear two voices, growing fainter as they speak.
“She’s out again, but vitals are stable.”
I’m not out, yet, ambulance man. Give a girl a break, would ya? It’s not my fault I have anvils on my eyelids. Besides, the light in here is too bright. And you are too loud. But I can still hear you fine . . . Mostly . . . Kind of . . .
“You’d think people would know not to drive like assholes in this kind of rain.”
“What is this, third one today?”
“Fourth. You hear about the wreck by the BQE? Five cars and a motorcycle. Two fatalities.”
“This one got lucky.”
“So to speak.”
“So to speak.”
“Want to get breakfast after this?”
“It’s lunchtime.”
“So? I want breakfast. Couldn’t you go for some French toast or pancakes?”
“Maybe eggs. Some strong coffee, bacon . . .”
“Extra bacon.”
How about taking my order, ambulance man? I’ll have—
Darkness.
About the Author

Margarita Montimore received a BFA in Creative Writing from Emerson College. She worked for over a decade in publishing and social media before deciding to focus on the writing dream full-time. She has blogged for Marvel, Google, Quirk Books, and XOJane.com. When not writing, she freelances as a book coach and editor. She grew up in Brooklyn but currently lives in a different part of the Northeast with her husband and dog.
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The Ripper – Blitz

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FICTION / Mystery & Detective / Police Procedural
Published Date: November 19th 2017
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One hundred twenty-five years to the day after Jack the Ripper committed his first gruesome murder, a young woman is killed in a picturesque Spanish town. As if the eerie timing isn’t enough to unnerve Commissioner Carrillo, the murderer has mimicked the Ripper’s grisly method almost exactly.
 
Soon more women are murdered and their bodies horrifically mutilated. Tips and accusations fly wildly, sending the commissioner and his fellow officers chasing after suspects who might be innocent. Adding to the confusion, the killer is creating his own trail, carving mysterious signs on the bodies of his victims and texting the commissioner puzzling messages.
 
When the murderer reveals who his fifth victim will be, Commissioner Carrillo’s blood runs cold—he now has a personal stake in solving the atrocious mystery. Who is this villainous fiend posing as Jack the Ripper? Can he be caught before he commits his final murder?

 

About the Author

Carmelo Anaya has published ten novels, including three previous books starring Commissioner Carrillo: The Yellow Earth, The Guardian of My Brother, and Baria City Blues. He lives in Almeria, Spain, where he works as a lawyer and a criminalist.
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Love of Finished Years – Blitz

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Historical Fiction
Date Published: January 2, 2018
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An immigrant’s powerful journey of aspiration and love in early Twentieth Century New York.
Pre World War One, Elsa came to America with her eyes wide open, realizing it was up to her to make a life for herself. Surviving a sweat shop in lower Manhattan, a chance job with a Long Island elite family opens up her world. Invited in up to a point, she unwittingly, albeit precariously, crosses the social divide with her now open heart, which puts all she had worked for in jeopardy.
An immigrant’s powerful journey of aspiration and love in early Twentieth Century New York.
This moving debut novel by Gregory Erich Phillips won the grand prize in the Chanticleer Reviews international writing competition.
 
Praise for Love of Finished Years:
“What a truly wonderful story! I’ve read it three times, and with each reading I find myself caring about the fabulous characters and their lives even more.” — P. J. Alderman, New York Times Bestselling Author
 
 
“From the riveting opening . . . until its gripping conclusion, this enthralling novel vividly portrays the desperate times of German immigrants landing at Ellis Island in 1905. A timely read . . . it illuminates the issues that we are experiencing a century later. . .Phillips reminds us that love, light, and perseverance can help us find a way to overcome almost any obstacle.” — Chanticleer Reviews
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About the Author


For a prolific literary family, Gregory Erich Phillips tells aspirational stories through strong, relatable characters that transcend time and place. Living in Seattle, Washington, he is also an accomplished tango dancer and musician.
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Caressed by the Edge of Darkness – Blitz

 

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Paranormal Romance
Date Published: 10/10/17
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Hardened by centuries of torture, former blood slave, Gabriel Erhard, is driven by an insatiable need to destroy his enemies. Violence darkens his battered soul, leaving no place for mercy in his world. Gabriel’s only desire is vengeance—until he finds her.
Seized by vampires, bound as a slave, and placed on the auction block, Jordan Culver is instantly entranced by the dangerous male who claims her. Jordan’s new captor vows to set her free, but his haunted gaze burns with savage desire and his wicked kiss makes her crave his touch and…complete surrender.
While Gabriel battles his enemies, he will break every sacred law to achieve his ultimate goal—uniting the Outcast Society and creating a new vampire Clan. But the distracting human with mesmerizing violet eyes jeopardizes his plans. With very soft whisper she evokes his tormented memories, testing his sanity and challenging his every boundary. Can Jordan help him overcome the miseries of his past and find a future with her?
About the Author


Amanda J. Greene creates paranormal romance for ravenous readers. She lives in Southern California, where she enjoys escaping the rewarding but hectic world of writing by spending time in the sun and sand with her military husband and their two dogs.
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