Tag Archives: Suspense

Roman Teaser Tuesday

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(Iron Tzars MC)

Contemporary Romance, Suspense, Motorcycle Club, Age Gap

Date Published: February 10, 2023

 

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Winter — My life hasn’t been easy. For so long, my sister has been
the only one I could rely on. When we were teenagers our father sold us to
sexual predators who hurt us. We both have the scars to prove it. But we
were rescued, and I got revenge for both of us. That was over a decade ago.
I love the home we found with Black Reign, but now it’s time to move
on. To live outside the cocoon the club wrapped us in. Another club
who’s found a girl in a situation similar to the hell we left behind
all those years ago may be our answer. One man in particular calls to me on
a primitive level. His name is Roman. And I want him for my own.

Roman — I’m the enforcer for Iron Tzars. Violence is in the job
description. Never thought I’d find myself attracted to a woman as
fragile as Winter. She and her sister have been through a lot, but
there’s a core of iron in her. She’s stronger than she looks,
and the fight in her stirs the primitive Alpha male inside me. It’s
time I show her she’s more than the sum of her scars. She’s a
friggin’ goddess.

 

Roman tablet

EXCERPT

 

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2023 Marteeka Karland

 

Roman

I’d never been so glad to leave a place behind as I cheerfully rolled
out of Lake Worth, Florida. I did my part as enforcer for Iron Tzars, but
the entire time we’d been there I felt like we were outgunned. Black
Reign MC might not be a rival club, but they were by no means safe. As
evidenced by the way they took care of business with the fucking men
we’d caught taking orphans from the group home in the city.

Violence didn’t bother me. If a motherfucker deserved it, there was
no limit. My balls were twitching because of the casual ease with which that
bastard, Chief, had taken the skin off the men he tortured. Yeah, Brick had
participated, but our VP was emotionless on the best of days. Chief and El
Diablo were different. I wouldn’t say they enjoyed the act, but I
wouldn’t say they didn’t, either. It hadn’t bothered them
in the least.

But what really had me glad to see this place in my rear view were the twin
women who haunted the place like ghosts. Eerily lovely, they always seemed
to be where I was. Neither said anything, but they stared at me constantly.
More than one of Black Reign’s members gave me the stink-eye over it,
too though no one would tell me why. Only that I should stay away from them.
I didn’t even know the pair’s names, for fuck’s sake!
Didn’t want to know!

I drove the Bronco we’d taken as a chase vehicle down to Lake Worth.
Normally I’d ride my bike with the other brothers, but someone had to
drive the big thing back to Evansville. As Road Captain, the task would
normally fall to Clutch, but he’d had a family emergency and had
headed back early. After that, I’d drawn the short straw. My bike was
stowed in the trailer, and here I was. Behind the wheel of a fucking
cage.

Lost in thought, my eyes on the road as my brothers surrounded the cage in
front and behind, I reached over and switched on the radio. I had no desire
to dwell on another club. Not even one our former president — and my
long-time friend — now belonged to. I was an enforcer in Iron Tzars. Not
Sergeant at Arms. I didn’t need to find trouble, only punish it.
Besides, if Sting — our current president and son to the former president
— had decided Warlock had to be killed for his infractions against the
club, I would be responsible for carrying out the sentence. I didn’t
want to do that. It looked like El Diablo had forestalled anything in that
regard, though I had no idea why. It was rare for anyone to leave the Iron
Tzars. When they did, the situation was permanent. Warlock was only the
second man I knew of not to die when he left or was asked to leave. Oh,
well. Above my paygrade. I was just thankful I didn’t have to kill my
brother.

A tap on my shoulder had my head whipping around. When I saw that same
eerily lovely face I’d been trying not to think about right next to
mine, I was so startled I jerked the wheel. The girl squealed and
disappeared from my immediate vision.

“What the fuck?” The Bronco hit the rumble strips on the
shoulder. My tires must have squealed, because several of the riders in
front of us either glanced over their shoulder or turned their head slightly
to look in their mirrors. They moved to the center lane in case I was out of
control. When I slowed and pulled fully onto the shoulder, they
followed.

I got as far over as I could but didn’t turn on my flashers. Though
we weren’t hauling any contraband, I’d rather not enlist the
help of a good Samaritan or, God forbid, the state police.

Once stopped, I put the thing in park and turned around. “What the
everlasting, God forsaken fuck are you doing in my fuckin’
vehicle?” I growled at the girl but tried not to yell. I got the
feeling she was fragile and, though I was angry, I didn’t want to
scare her. As I spoke, the other one poked her head from behind the backseat
in the cargo area. “Shoulda guessed. You two ain’t ever far
apart.” There was a knock at my window, saving the girls from a
lecture.

Instead of rolling down the window, I opened the door and stepped out. The
two girls ducked back behind the seat, the first one having returned to what
had probably been their hiding place in my fucking Bronco.

“You good?” Brick peered inside the vehicle, looking for a
threat. His hand was on the gun at his hip, but he didn’t draw.

“Yeah. Just realized I had a couple of stowaways.”

Brick raised an eyebrow. Instead of explaining, I walked him around to the
back and opened the tail door for him to see for himself. They were hiding
behind cargo, but both of them poked their heads up when I opened the door
so I could see their eyes and the top of their heads over their hiding
place.

“Fuck.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “You two in
trouble?”

One of them shook her head. The other girl shrank back.

“You know you can’t stay with us. We’ll have to take you
back.”

“No.” The braver of the two shook her head. “We want to
stay with you.”

“You afraid to go back?” Brick crossed big arms over his brawny
chest. “They hurt you?”

Black Reign didn’t seem like the type of club to hurt women. They
were protective as all get out of any of the women under their care,
especially these two. The idea that any woman might be running from that
club didn’t sit well with me, but the thought that either of these
women had an issue with them made me want to drive back and beat the fuck
out of someone.

“No,” she said in a soft voice. “It was time to
leave.”

I looked at Brick. “We’re only an hour from home. We could let
Black Reign know once we get back to the clubhouse.”

“Let me check with Sting. He may know something we don’t. If
not, he’ll decide what to do.”

“Can we please stop at a gas station or something?” The braver
one raised her head farther as she spoke. “It’s why I bothered
you. We need a bathroom break.”

“You shoulda said something before now,” I groused.
“We’ve been on the fuckin’ road for twelve fuckin’
hours! Stopped twice! Why didn’t you get out then?”

“We were afraid we wouldn’t be quick enough, and we’d get
left behind.” Her voice was almost musical but soft. And it affected
me like a gentle stroke down my chest headed straight to my cock. I needed
to squash that feeling hard. This girl wasn’t up to taking me on, even
if she’d wanted to.

I scrubbed a hand over my face. “I can’t fuckin’ believe
this. Get your asses in the back seat and buckle up.” I thought
they’d get out the back, but both of them climbed over the back seat
and did as instructed.

“Jesus, Roman, could you sound any more like a fuckin’ old
man?”

“Shut the fuck up, Brick.” Then I muttered under my breath.
“Motherfucker.”

A couple miles down the road, Brick pulled the group over at a
Buc-ee’s and everyone in the club surrounded the Bronco as the women
got out. And they were women, not older girls like I’d first thought.
The shy one shrank behind her sister when the men crowded around them both.
We didn’t get into their personal space, but it was something that
would have probably freaked any woman out.

“Jesus, guys, back off ‘em!” Iris, Sting’s
ol’ lady, was going to be a great match for our president. “Are
you trying to frighten them to death?”

Sting chuckled, watching as his woman went to my stowaways. “Better
do what she says, boys. She’s a force of nature when she wants to
be.”

Naturally, we didn’t need Sting’s OK to back off. The girls
looked terrified. The braver one had a determined look on her face as she
lifted her chin. “We’re not fragile. There’re a lot of
you. And you’re all big.”

“Of course, you’re not fragile.” Iris took her hand and
reached for the other one. “Everyone, this is Winter. Her sister here
is Serelda.”

“You know them well, baby?” Sting stood close to his woman, but
not close enough to spook the other two.

“No. But I’m looking forward to getting to know
them.”

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Climate of Monsters: Friulian Son Blitz

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Climate of Monsters Series, Book One

Suspense, Dark Fantasy, Supernatural Thriller, Horror

 Published: June 28, 2022

 

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Climate of Monster is a book of two incredible but unlikely heroes that
intertwine to fight legendary mythical monsters and new creations that are
rampant due to climate change. Our heroes include a young Italian master
swordsman, and a dangerous Swedish woman who is both a special forces expert
and medical doctor. Book 1: Friulian Son features incredible monsters that
are larger than life: from biker werewolves, sea monsters, anthropomorphic
squirrels, and a human hybrid cuttlefish (among many others).

Book Two Climate of Monsters: Breath of Fire is due out later in
2023.

 

About the Author

Mitchell Sanders

Mitchell Sanders is just another ordinary individual. As a scientist and
serial entrepreneur, in his spare time he enjoys reading and writing horror
books. His inspirations come from his lovely wife and best friend,
Elisabeth, and three children and three grandchildren, who encouraged him to
write and finish his first book. Mitch spent a good portion of his life
studying biomedical sciences and advanced wound care. He has a BA in biology
from Boston University with a minor in Latin language and literature, and an
MS in molecular biology and a PhD in biomedical sciences, both from
Worcester Polytechnic Institute (WPI). Mitch did two postdocs at the
Whitehead Institute / MIT, a world-renowned nonprofit research institution
dedicated to improving human health through basic biomedical research. Mitch
is a worldwide expert in wound repair and regeneration. Mitch was formerly
founder and chief executive officer (CEO) of a diagnostic company for
sixteen years and is currently the chief scientifi

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Izzy Virtual Book Tour

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 Book Four of the Maison de Danse Quartet

 

Suspense

Date Published: 12-01-2022

Publisher: Épouvantail Books

 

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What do you do when the legal system refuses to deliver justice?

Izzy knows.

Conducting her own investigations and trials, she’s out on the hunt,
righting wrongs in honor of the victims and their surviving families.

Outlaw revenge has its perils and she’s soon in the fight of her
life.

Sometimes a killer’s own survivors also go on the hunt.

Having kicked their hornet’s nest, Izzy is desperate to take them
out.

Does she have what it takes to battle off her own demons?

Can she stop those who want her dead? 

Izzy tablet

EXCERPT

 

“Good morning, Mr. Bosa,” Judge Lloyd greeted him. “What happened to your face?” He turned to the defense attorney, expecting him to explain. Bosa spoke up instead, his voice soft and nasally, sounding like a mumble-mouthed kid.

“Allergies, not sure.” Bosa looked to his attorney for support.

Your Honor, my client has an infection from the injections he administered.”

“You mean the incident with the plumbing caulking?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“I trust this will not hamper his ability to be present in his hearing.”
“No, Your Honor.”
“Then, let’s move on.”

The hearing began with the formal reading of the planned proceedings for the day. When Judge Lloyd concluded, it was time for the first testimony by a forensic psychologist. There would be three—one for the state, another for the defense, and the third court-appointed.

Over the next hour and a half, one after another discussed their interviews with the defendant and their findings. When you query three forensic psychologists, you get what’s expected. Bosa’s mental illnesses were described as rigid ideation, emotionally restricted, schizophrenic, and a psychotic disorder.

It took Judge Lloyd’s wise and patient mind to reel them in at the end of each of their testimonies, pressing each.

“Bottom line, is he competent to proceed? Does he have the capacity to understand the severity of the charges?”

The answer was yes, all three times.

During all this, I studied Bosa, that deadly twenty-seven-year-old toilet snake. He liked to play with his chair, swiveling it, rocking it back and forth, like a kid with a newfound toy.

Ignoring the proceedings, he was whispering to his lawyer, becoming agitated at times. Owen Mosby was trying to settle him down, eyes to the proceedings, whispering behind his hand.

“Is there a problem with the defendant?” the judge asked, pausing the state attorney’s opening remarks.

“Yes, Your Honor,” Bosa complained.

His attorney stood.

Your Honor, my client is insisting on a change of counsel…”

“He’s not asking the right questions, Your Honor. I want to fire him,” Bosa remained seated, rocking forward, resting his chin on his hand.

“So, we’re clear,” the judge addressed the lawyer, ignoring the defendant. “He’s requesting a Nelson Hearing?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“Mr. Bosa, I think this is unwise at best,” the judge finally looked at him. “Can you tell me why you’re making this request?”

“Yes, he refused to ask them a question.”

“Which one is that?”

“We need a fourth doctor hired,” Bosa avoided the question. “When all this happened, I was nuts. I hadn’t slept in seven years, and the voice was telling me what to do.”

“I need to remind you that this is a competency hearing, not a trial. We’re here today to determine if you’re fit to stand trial.”

“See, the thing is, Your Honor, my lawyer refuses to get them to admit I’m crazy. That’s why I want to fire him.”

To his credit, Judge Lloyd listened to this respectfully. 

“Mr. Mosby, have you counseled your client as to the serious risk to his case?” he asked.

“Yes, Your Honor. I have repeatedly explained to Mr. Bosa that there’s no ethical way to get experts to testify to what they know isn’t true.”

“But, Your Honor, there’s a doctor in Jacksonville,” Bosa went on. “And if she’s brought in, she can—”
“Mr. Bosa, did you not approve the doctor your counsel hired?” the judge asked.

During all this, the state attorney watched on patiently, letting the absurdity play out.

“Yes, Your Honor, but that was before he didn’t tell the truth.”

“So I’m clear, Mr. Bosa, you want to fire your counsel. Do you have new counsel in mind?”

“I want to represent myself.”

About the Author

Greg Jolley

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

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Marissa Unbound Teaser Tuesday

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Unbound, Book 5

Paranormal Romance, Suspense, Dark Fantasy

Release Date: January 20, 2023

Publisher: Changeling Press, LLC

 

When Marissa learns her abusive husband, Arfon Hanson, plans to murder her
so he can take another wife, Marissa flees. She hopes to find sanctuary at
the convent where she was educated, but fate intervenes when Steffan Gwinett
rescues her from the henchmen Arfon sent to bring her back.

Years ago, Marissa and Steffan had been in love, but her father broke off
their relationship, sending her away. Their chance meeting rekindles all
their old feelings for each other. After they make love, Steffan vows to
expose Arfon for a would-be murderer.

Marissa won’t let Steffan take on the dangerous job alone. She
disguises herself as a boy, and they begin an investigation of Arfon. They
get more than they bargained for when they discover her husband is the
leader of a demon-worshiping cult — and is making plans to offer a local
boy as a sacrifice. Can they rescue the victim and find a happy ever after
for themselves?

Marissa Unbound tablet

EXCERPT

Copyright ©2023 Rebecca York

 

Steffan Gwinett rode past the darkened house and dismounted in the pasture
where Darias, his horse, could graze as he would. The moon was almost full,
and the sky danced with stars, the heavens giving him enough light to guide
his steps. He stood for a moment looking toward the spot where the bee boxes
had stood. He could see no sign of them now.

“I’ll be back soon,” he said to his steed, before turning
toward the cottage.

It was not an imposing dwelling. The main room had a packed dirt floor.
When he’d lived there, the only furnishings had been a large fireplace
for warmth and cooking and a table and chairs for sitting and eating. Up
above, on the opposite side from the fireplace, was a narrow loft where he
had slept. Beyond the main room lay another, barely large enough for a
mattress, where his parents had slept until his mother had died. Then it was
only Steffan and his grizzled old father — until his father, too, had
succumbed to years of hard labor.

Steffan’s father had been a farmer whose fortunes rose and fell with
the vagaries of the weather. When the crops were good they ate well, with
extra coin for buying necessities they could not make themselves. Sometimes
they could even afford a few luxuries, like sturdy fabric for his mother to
sew into clothing.

Steffan had known that hardscrabble life was not for him. He’d
dreamed of running off with the girl he loved, though that had only been a
foolish fancy.

After reality had crashed over him, he had gone off to join King
Norwen’s troops. That had not worked out either. Three years of
enforcing the king’s draconian edicts had been enough for him.
He’d declined his next enlistment and taken the coin he’d
managed to save during his time of service.

Now here he was, having another look at this land, wondering if he could
make it work for him in a way his father had never considered.

He was almost to the front door when he stopped short. Since childhood
he’d enjoyed a talent other people did not possess. He had no name for
it, yet somehow he always knew when he was not alone.

That sixth sense had saved his life more than once when he’d been a
member of the royal troops — like the time they’d been ordered to
clear a town of troublemakers. One of the ruffians had been waiting with a
heavy club at the intersection of two streets. Sensing him, Steffan had
stopped in his tracks and turned the tables on the would-be assailant.

That same ability slowed his steps now as he approached the cottage.
Stopping short of the entrance, he drew his knife and reached for the knob,
easing the door inward a few inches. At the same time, he stepped to the
side so that he would not be an immediate target. With the door cracked, he
stood in the cool night air — listening. He could hear nothing. The house
looked as though it was abandoned, yet his instincts told him that was not
true. Pushing the door open a bit farther, he peered into the darkness,
waiting for his eyes to adjust to the shadowy interior. When he could take
in details, he scanned the room. The table and chairs were gone, as was all
the cooking equipment near the fireplace.

He tipped his head up, directing his attention to the loft. Someone could
be up there in the shadows, waiting to leap down on anyone who entered. A
quick glance told him the access ladder was also missing. Unless an intruder
had pulled it up after himself, there was no way to reach the sleeping
platform.

Who would be in here? From the squalid looks of the interior, obviously not
someone who had made a home in this empty cottage. Perhaps it was a ruffian
using it as a temporary hideout.

With the main room cleared, his next target was the bedroom. Quietly he
crossed the packed dirt and listened at the ripped curtain that still hung
there.

Steffan detected nothing — until the curtain flew open and a dark figure
leaped out at him, the only thing clearly visible the glint of moonlight on
steel.

Only Steffan’s instincts and his hours in the practice yard saved him
from a serious knife wound. He twisted away from the assailant and thrust
out his foot, sending the knave sprawling and their blade skittering
away.

The man was hardly an experienced fighter, Steffan noted as he followed the
attacker down, trapping him against the packed earth floor.

The man? No, it must be a youth. In their frantic struggle he detected
little meat on the assailant’s arms, and little muscle mass. This boy
had no idea how to fight off a warrior — luckily for Steffan. “Stop
struggling before you get hurt,” he growled.

Probably realizing that further combat was dangerous, the assailant took
his advice — which gave Steffan time to evaluate the body that lay beneath
his. He had expected a shallow chest to go with the spindly arms. The
reality was quite different. Instead of a boy’s upper trunk, he felt
the swell of nicely rounded breasts. Confusion grabbed him as he stared down
into glaring green eyes. Familiar eyes — eyes that took him back to another
time and place.

He gasped, feeling as though he had taken a hard blow to the gut in a
jousting match. For heartbeats he was frozen in place — as was the girl who
glared up at him.

Finally he was able to choke out, “Marissa Dumfries.”

About the Author

New York Times and USA Today Best-Selling Author Rebecca York began her
career as a journalist writing articles for newspapers and magazines, but
after several years decided to try writing fiction. She’s a highly
successful author of over 50 romantic suspense and paranormal novels and is
the head of the Columbia Writers Workshop. Her many awards include two Rita
finalist books. She has two Career Achievement awards from Romantic Times:
for Series Romantic Suspense and for Series Romantic Mystery. Her Peregrine
Connection series won a Lifetime Achievement Award for Romantic Suspense
Series. She collects rocks, and enjoys cooking, walking, reading, gardening,
travel, and Mozart operas.

 

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Here There and Everywhere Blitz

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Mystery

Date Published: December 15, 2022

 

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SUSPENSE, MYSTERY, WINE, and FAMILY DRAMA in this cozy mystery set in
France, number 18 in the series.

Stretched thin between her sisters in the US and her new life in France,
Merle Bennett is feeling the strain of obligations. That is even before
Pascal’s grape harvest goes sideways, her father falls ill, and her older
sister shows up in France unexpectedly. Her son Tristan and sister Stasia
then inexplicably disappear.

Asking questions like ‘how do you make everyone happy’ and ‘do they even
want to be helped,’ Merle muddles through, trying to keep her head above
water and panic at bay. Can she keep hope alive and her seemingly idyllic
life in a French vineyard at least a little bit charming? Is that too much
to ask for?

Join Pascal and Merle for another adventure in France, roaming the
vineyards of the Bordeaux wine region, struggling with things they do not
yet understand. Will the neighbors stop harassing them? Who sabotaged the
harvester? Where are Tristan and Stasia? Can they harvest the grapes before
they spoil on the vines?

This installment of the Bennett Sisters Mysteries follows closely on the
events of Château des Corbeaux, recommended but not required reading
beforehand!

About the Author

Lise McClendon

Lise McClendon writes fiction in Montana and California. She is the author
of numerous novels, short stories, and articles since her start in 1994. She
has served on the national boards of directors for Mystery Writers of
America and International Association of Crime Writers/North America.
Published by Walker & Co. and St. Martin’s Press, she now runs Thalia
Press. Her bestselling Bennett Sisters Mystery series is now 18 books
strong.

 

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