Blog Tour – Camouflage by Ivy Keating and Scott Spotson

A missing man, a new police chief and an unexpected New England town mystery.

When Sean Dermott, the newly appointed police chief, sees the report that a popular local high school coach is missing, his growing fascination with the alluring Vanessa Strauss, who reported the disappearance, makes him determined to solve the case.

The investigation leads him and his team deep into Quarry Head Park, a local scenic preserve with nature trails and expansive views. There is no sign of the missing man, but what he does find terrifies him to the core.

From the depths of the park, a deadly prehistoric looking creature emerges, attacks swiftly and silently, leaving devastation in its wake. In the chaos which follows, it is up to Chief Dermott and a team of scientists to fight for balance by ensuring the safety of his town and preserving this remarkable discovery.

He will risk his career, his reputation and even his own life to stand by what he believes to be right. The question is, will he succeed, or will all be lost?

Grab your copy now!!       Amazon     Champagne Books     Goodreads

Watch the trailer here


22 Oct – Introspective Press
22 Oct – 4 Covert 2 Overt
22 Oct – Maria Catalina Egan
24 Oct – Celtic Lady’s Reviews
26 Oct – CA Milson Author
26 Oct – Girl With Pen
26 Oct – Romance Reviews Today
29 Oct – Ash Stone Author
30 Oct – Indie Book Fairy
31 Oct – Room With Books
01 Nov – Dawn’s Reading Nook
02 Nov – Writing Dreams
06 Nov – Romance Junkies

About Ivy Keating…

Motivated by nature’s mysteries and the complexity of human behaviour, Ivy Keating writes science fiction and fantasy novels exploring the relationship between mankind and the natural world.

A master’s degree in social work helps her explore the nature of her characters and give them added depth as they grapple with the repercussions of their actions. This novel was inspired by the landscape and natural beauty of New England.

An area that inspired the question… what if?

Social Media Links:

www.ivykeating.com     Instagram     Twitter

The following week on Monday, when Sean returned to work, he found new information on the homicide in Lakeside Park in his inbox.

The fingerprints lifted from the evidence belong to Marcus Branca. He is now the number one suspect. He’s also the prime suspect in a robbery caught on tape in Litchfield. The security video from the drugstore robbery and a mug shot are attached.

The next paragraph got him thinking.

A current address for the suspect is not confirmed. His mother, Evelyn Branca lives at 201 Daleview Circle in Norwalk, Connecticut. A transcript of her statement is attached. She stated the last time she saw her son was two years ago in October when he asked her for money.

He’s robbing close to home. He has no confirmed address, and he last called his mother two years ago.

Sean’s gut told him—she’s lying.

He closed the email to focus on the open cases within his department.

The results of the forensic tests from the soil samples should be in.

He placed the call to the lab. The receptionist told him the tests were completed and transferred him to a technician who gave him the results. “The soil samples you sent over came up negative for synthetic and natural rubber. No trace metals either. We found nothing man-made in it.”

Sean thanked the woman. Nothing then.

He glanced at the time on his computer screen. In one hour, he needed to attend a seminar on emergency protocols as outlined by the Department of Emergency Services and Public Protection, given at the University of Connecticut. He turned off his computer, preparing to leave when he saw Ryan standing in the doorway.

Sean waved him in. “What’s up?”

“I have the report I promised on Jason Kenner last week.”

“Including what happened to the car and the credit card statements?”

“Yes. And some information from recent bank records,” Ryan said, handing Sean a hard copy.

“Have a seat.”

“Remember the name on the account, Marsha Philips?”

Sean nodded.

“She’s an old girlfriend who lives in Albany, New York, about two hours away. I was able to speak with her.”

“What did she say?”

“They lived together, and she was crushed he’s missing. It sounded like Marsha cared very deeply about him, so I asked what the nature of their relationship was today. She said they’re just friends. They broke up because he has a gambling problem.”

“Is that why he has so many credit cards?”

“Yeah. He uses cash advances to get money. Marsha said he’s been doing that for years. He wanted her to open a card in her name and take out an advance for him. She refused and gave him an ultimatum. Get help for his addiction, or it’s over. He never got help.”

“Does she know there’s a credit card statement in her name going to his house?”

“She does. She knows he opened a card in her name illegally, but she doesn’t want to press charges. Two months ago, Jason told her that he owed someone money and they’re after him. He asked Marsha if she could loan him two thousand dollars, but she refused. He opened the card without her permission but then called her to confess what he’d done and closed the account. She feels terrible for him. She said he’s a good man; he just has a problem.”

“That’s very forgiving considering what he did,” Sean said.

“Yup, but the story checks out. I followed up with the credit card carrier, and they did receive a request to close the account. And there’s more. Marsha said when they first started dating Jason owed someone $11,000 for betting on football games. He was so scared they would come after him, he told her if he didn’t get the money he’d have to leave town. She gave him a small loan, and he took a second job to cover the rest. Marsha said he would tell her he stopped gambling, but she knows he never did. He was always short of money the entire time they were together.”

“I’m a little surprised none of his friends said anything. There’s nothing in the file about it,” Sean said, wondering if Vanessa knew about Jason’s addiction.

“From the way Marsha spoke—he was good at hiding it. He held a steady job, and for the most part they had a good relationship.”

“I can see that. Jason’s very popular around here. He was working with kids coaching the winning basketball team. Looks like a model citizen. Any idea who he owes money to?”

“Not yet, but his landlady said he hasn’t paid his rent in two months. I did some checking, and he’s behind on all his other bills. There are some illegal gambling operations in neighboring towns that local law enforcement is building cases against. I could contact them.”

“Yes. Do that.”

He nodded. “Right away.”

“Oh, did you find out what happened to his car?” Sean asked, standing and gathering his things.

“As a matter of fact, yes.” Ryan followed Sean to the door. “The car was repossessed for non-payment. He hadn’t paid in almost six months. It was pure coincidence it was taken away now.”

“See what else you can find and keep me updated.”

Ryan returned to his office, and Sean left the station. On the way to his police car, he detoured into the building next door which housed the Animal Control Department.

After exchanging greetings with Officer Benjamin Gibson, the head of Animal Control, Sean asked if anyone claimed the dog he found.

“No such luck. No one’s called, and the poor creature’s been staying at the animal hospital since you had him brought in,” Ben said.

“How come?”

“He tested positive for Lyme disease. He’ll be okay, but they wanted to start him on antibiotics so they kept him there.”

Sean rubbed his chin. The dog’s been through enough. “If no one calls you today, I’m going to pick him up and take him home.”

“Good for you,” Ben said with a smile. “Hey. Since you’re here, a video just came in of a mutilated animal in Quarry Head Park. Want to take a look?”

“Someone filmed it?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t have much time. Is it long?”

“Not at all. Just shy of two minutes.”

“Sure. Let me see.”

“I just want you to be prepared. It’s pretty gross.”

“I appreciate the warning,” Sean said, even more interested.

Ben pulled the file up on the computer and turned the screen toward Sean.

The camera caught every angle of the gruesome sight. Sean flinched. What the hell?

The body in the footage looked like a deer. The features on its face were squashed; the eyes no longer clearly defined. The neck of the animal was bent in the middle—the head lay flat on the ground twisted to one side. Two stumps, which were once the deer’s front legs, jutted out just past its ears. Its back legs were crushed and wedged into position under its belly. Even more bizarre, the lifeless mass had a gelatinous looking coating over its entire body.

“Do we know what happened to it?”

“No. The footage was taken by a fifteen-year-old boy on his cellphone. He was riding his bike with a friend in Quarry Head Park. They went off the path, and his friend fell from the bike when he hit this dead animal.”

“Who gave you the video?”

“His mother sent it in by email. She wanted to make sure someone cleaned it up before anyone else got hurt. She said her son’s friend developed an itchy rash from the slime covering the animal’s body.”

Sean pointed to a marker on a tree in the video. “This is next to the yellow path,” he said. “Hold off on removing the animal for just a few hours. I have to go to a seminar at the University of Connecticut, but when I come back I want to take a look at it myself.”

“Sure. Hey, when you get to the school you should talk to Dr. Greg Mitchell. You can show him the video.”

“Why? Who is he?”

“Greg’s a professor at the University and the head of the Biology Department. He knows a lot about animals and specializes in herpetology.”

“Herpetology? The study of reptiles?” Sean asked.

“That’s right. Actually it’s reptiles and amphibians, so he covers both land and water. Greg lives right here in town. Last year he helped us relocate a Bog Turtle found in someone’s yard. They’re endangered, you know.”

“But even I can see this looks like a deer.”

“I know, but he’s very knowledgeable. He might be able to help. Anyway, it’s just a suggestion, and you’ll be there anyway.”

“Okay, can you send me the video?”

“Not a problem. I’ll email it to you now.”

Sean thanked Ben and left for the University. Once in his cruiser he scrunched his nose, mulling over the grisly video. Natural causes or foul play?

 

 

 

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Blog Tour – Love Is Never Past Tense by Janna Yeshanova

Originally from the former Soviet Union, Janna Yeshanova escaped in 1989 when persecution became violent during the crumbling of the Soviet state. This required getting permission to emigrate and a long dangerous train trip across central Europe with her elderly mother, her young daughter, and the $126 she was permitted to take out of the country. She did this by overcoming gridlock in Russia, animosity and graft at the border, and neglect in the west. Safely out of Soviet control, Janna and her family spent months as refugees waiting for permission to come to the United States.

Arriving in the United States knowing not a soul, Janna settled in Ohio and began to rebuild her life. She earned a second masters Degree and was invited as a speaker at the Bosnia and Herzegovina International Peace Conference in 1996. While building her business as a Leadership Trainer and consultant, she has become a Professional Certified Coach (PCC) through the International Coach Federation. She offers life coaching services to individuals, conflict resolution to couples and groups, and soft skills training to organizations of all sizes.

Her book, Love Is Never Past Tense, offers a message of hope and inspiration, showing that nothing is impossible if you believe in yourself.

Her Blog     Facebook     Twitter

A couple’s quick romance and hasty marriage is torn apart by family and fate, leaving them to face the collapse of the Soviet Union separately. Years later, old memories are stirred to give their love a second chance.

Serge and Janna’s chance meeting at a Black Sea beach sparks a passionate romance and a quick marriage. Serge’s parents, suspicious of Janna’s motives and heritage, force him to break up with her. As the Soviet Union collapses, revealing ethnic and social pressures, each faces danger separately. Serge drowns in self-doubt, his life spiraling down and in. Janna plots a dangerous exodus to America with her mother and daughter. Years pass, stirring old emotions.Then, changing circumstances give their love a second chance. Janna Yeshanova tells a story, providing a very personal view of political and social change.

Love is Never Past Tense is part romantic drama and part a look at real people responding to life-changing events, but mostly a suspense adventure about living through one of the biggest changes in living memory.

Love Is Never Past Tense is available on Amazon in hardcover, paperback and Kindle eBook formats. The newly released audiobook is available on Audible, Amazon and iTunes. The audible and Kindle versions are enabled with WhisperSync.

The audio is narrated by Daniela Acitelli, a narrator with dozens of audiobooks to her credit. Even those familiar with the story found new meaning in her presentation. It took me two years to find her.

http://www.loveisneverpasttense.com

Audiobook sample https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6nBbMxrEb1g

 

Buy Links:

Audio Book at audible.com https://adbl.co/2FrEWAs

Audio Book at Amazon https://amzn.to/2Bt9s8W

Audio Book at iTunes https://apple.co/2Kvh8KX

Amazon Author Page https://amzn.to/2AhhY9j

Amazon Kindle https://amzn.to/2Ku6h3S

 

 


21 Dec – Celtic Lady’s Reviews
22 Dec – CA Milson Author
22 Dec – Stormy Nights
23 Oct – Girl With Pen
23 Dec – Dawn’s Reading Nook
24 Dec – Stephanie’s Book Reviews
24 Dec – eBooks Addict UK
26 Dec – Writing Dreams
27 Dec – Romance Reviews Today
28 Dec – Room With Books
29 Dec – Erzabet’s Enchantments
30 Dec – Indie Book Fairy
07 Dec – Ash Stone Author

 

 

Serge didn’t try to catch up to the shuffling, thin, leather skirt. He hadn’t a clue what he would do if he actually caught up with her. So he continued following her along the high embankment for a fairly long time, until they crossed the whole of Lanzheron Park. But, reaching the beach, the girl quickly descended to the sea. Serge even began to jog a bit to keep her in sight. His head was clear this morning, and soon he would try out his cunning for the first but not the last time this day. The spy set up camp at the upper solarium and watched over her. Maybe she was waiting for some company, or a young man, or a girlfriend (which would undoubtedly seem to be better), but to our spy, all were equally bad possibilities. This guessing game carried on in his head, but it seemed she wasn’t looking for anyone. She ducked into the changing room, and her leather skirt momentarily hung over the edge of the stall. After a minute, she exited, and Serge, pulling his long hair away from his head with both hands in anguish, groaned something unintelligible. Her breasts exited the little room first. The spot from where Serge looked down provided such visibility that his knees began to tremble. Her face was impossible to discern through her long hair and sunglasses, but something told him it would also be in order. She laid before her a light beach towel, and laying down she took a book from her bag and began to read. Burning her “landing site” into his mind, Serge took off like a shot to the nearest cabana rental. Fast as lightning, he exchanged his clothes for a key, crammed two metal rubles in the pocket of his swimming trunks, and became Don Juan. He feared, though, that there were already a bunch of admirers slinking ever closer to the sacred beach towel, and that he would simply be too late. He’d have to crawl to his place in line, and like the others, would have a poor chance of success.

He flew down the stairs and quickly found the beach towel, but … its owner was nowhere to be found. There was a book, a beach bag, and sunglasses, but their owner had disappeared. Oh, yes! This would be the second time that a smart thought visited Serge’s head today. People come to the sea to swim, after all! This interpretation of her disappearance comforted and delighted Serge. He became bolder and impudently tossed his glasses onto the same towel and cheerfully marched to the water. With his half-blind eyes, he surely could not see her. And where, among dozens of bathers? He dove into a wave, and swam away from the shore. First, he couldn’t stand to watch bathers jumping around like frogs in the shallow water. Secondly, at this moment, his exceptionally quick-witted head told him he couldn’t be the first to return to her beach towel. Then he’d have to take his glasses and fiddle around a bit in front of the beach towel to buy time as he came up with a new plan. Perhaps he’d cover himself with the towel, or maybe … no, he needed to work on his initial scenario.

He even came up with a sophisticated opening: “Excuse me, young lady, but I left my glasses here on your towel. I simply didn’t have anywhere to put them, or myself for that matter.” With this, his stockpile of ideas was depleted …

At last he climbed out of the water and headed along the well-trodden route to her beach towel. The towel was in place, and on this towel lay the magnificent body of its hostess, but Serge’s glasses were lying a little bit farther on the edge of the towel. Serge squatted down and mumbled his introduction. He was counting on her to respond with typical beach chit-chat: “Where are you from? How long ago did you arrive in Odessa?” or other such nonsense.

“Your glasses are fine,” she responded. “I figured someone just confused their beach towel with mine, but have a seat anyway.”

She scooted over, freeing up half the beach towel. He got scared. If he lay down, then he wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to nuzzle up to her. Then he’d certainly look like a pervert, a youth brought up with no manners, or a pest—in a word, he would give the exact opposite impression than he wanted. He mumbled something like a “thank you” and lay down beside her on the sand. She motioned towards him with a little bag of sunflower seeds, “Help yourself.”

” Oh God, what’s this?” resounded in Serge’s mind. “Are you kidding me … sunflower seeds?” And his hand with a subsequent “thank you” reached in the bag.

“Do you like Ilf and Petrov?”2

” Lord, who is she talking about? I’ve only heard of them in passing, but I don’t know the slightest thing about them …” Serge thought to himself.

“My name’s Janna,” she came to his rescue.

“Sergey,” he stammered in reply, “but at the institute everyone actually calls me Serge, or Seriy …”3

She chuckled.

“Grey. You’re actually black as tar. Where did you get such a tan?” she asked, spitting out sunflower seed shells. Not even awaiting a response, she exclaimed: “Here is an interesting moment”—and she began to read her book aloud, something about Ptiburdukov and his Varvara, who was leaving her first husband for him but couldn’t make up her mind. Janna read for a while, probably about five pages, and then thrust the book towards Serge and said, “You read from here,” marking the place with her fingernail. Serge began to read, but he didn’t understand a word. He was too busy worrying about his diction, trying not to miss any letters or words. He fought through two pages, but his audience was clearly not impressed.

“Would you like a cigarette?”

“If he has a smoke, then he’ll stop reading.” Serge could almost hear her thinking. He pulled a cigarette from a mashed-up pack of Javas, the best tobacco the Soviet Union could offer at that time. She handed him the matches. He brought the flame close to her face. She took a drag and rolled over on her back. Serge absolutely didn’t know what to do: read, blow sand from her, ask her about something. But she was not waiting for any questions and didn’t ask any questions. It was as if he simply was present. And that was that. The only thing that remained was for Serge to stare dumbfounded into the sand and observe the ants. Having smoked half the cigarette, she jammed the other half into the sand and turned back over on her stomach, brushing her leg up against Serge’s. But she did not hasten to remove it. Silent Serge, who really didn’t look the part of a reasonable person, turned into an animal. His uncontrollable desire sprang to life, pulling his swimming trunks down into the sand with such force that it became painful. Serge secretly burrowed a hole in the sand, easing the pressure. He became obsessed with a craving to climb on top of her. But this was out of the question, which made his desire even stronger …

“It’s hot. Let’s go for a swim,” she said, lifting herself up on her elbows. For the first time he could see her breasts up close, causing his heart to leap through his ribs like a bird in a cage. He muttered he’d catch up to her, and when she left, his desire ever so slowly began to hide itself away, until he was finally able to get up and head towards the sea.

She splashed around in the waves, which towards midday became quite sizable. He flopped about next to her, often brushing up against her body. Then he suggested tossing her in the waves. He cradled her head and shoulders, gathered her hands into his, and finally lifted her up and tossed her into the waves. Janna liked it, and so did he, but for a different reason: every time she hit the waves, her bathing suit slid down slightly, and when her breasts finally became exposed, he was ready to splash to his very death. Suddenly, she ended up cradled in his arms. With one arm, she grasped his neck, and he now understood that everything will happen, he just needed to patiently wait.

Once something starts, eventually, it ends. The delightful swim as well: they returned from the water and again lay down on the beach towel.

“I want to get tanned like you.” (She had already switched to the informal you4 in the water. He liked this, as it made him feel less uneasy around her). She placed her arm next to his for comparison, and her brown skin seemed much paler than his almost blackened arm. Guiltily, he informed her that he just returned yesterday from his apprenticeship in Baku, and so it was not surprising that he was so dark.

“You have beautiful hands,” she pensively remarked. Then, determined, she added, “No, you just wait. I’ll catch up with you in two days. Just wait and see.” These words poured over his body like oil. For Serge, this meant that he would spend at least two more days with her.

“Get some ice cream. Do you need some money?”

“I have it,” answered Serge, but before he could get up and leave, he had to turn and crawl to hide his “desire” …

***

During their first three days together, Serge (as they called our hero at the time) was the quieter of the two, once in a while muttering some insignificant phrases. The first time he saw her, he silently followed her for a long time. She walked along easily, shifting her long, rather well-proportioned legs. Her thin leather skirt swung from side to side, barely hiding her shapely hips. A green blouse tightly covered her beautifully straight back. All the while, Serge followed her like she was a vision, lacking the courage to come closer or to back away. He knew that making her acquaintance was a long shot; she was simply out of his league. How could he possibly know that she, a complete stranger, would inexplicably impact his life and be with him forever, whether she was at his side or not?

We Host – Rasputin’s Legacy by Lee Jackson

We are so excited to bring you a preview of Rasputin’s Legacy set to be released on the 28th of July!
But don’t wait for the release? Pre-order and get FOUR Bonus Prizes!

 

The Cold War. A backdrop for betrayal. A playground for power. A rogue Soviet general mobilizes to overthrow the Soviet regime and gain control of the USSR’s military arsenal. The world is on the brink of war. To stop him, the US president sends covert operator Atcho deep inside Siberia. Failure could spell annihilation – and a relentless investigative reporter pursues him, certain that Atcho is the shooter in an assassination attempt. Worse yet, Atcho’s beautiful fiancée, a former CIA operative, goes rogue to save him.

Don’t miss this nail biter that Carmine Zozzora, producer of Die Hard with a Vengeance calls “pure gold.”.
BOOKS ON FIRE TOURS REVIEW:
They don’t write books like this anymore, and though it took an agonizing wait of 3 years for me, it all paid off! I savored every word, as Lee Jackson’s meticulous research, well developed plot, realistic characters, exact locations and plausible events took hold of me. Though this work of art is pure Historical fiction, Lee Jackson executed his story so well, it was hard to distinguish fiction from fact. Far from being just Histfic, the plot lines flowed effortlessly from one action packed scene into another, with ample twists, nerve wrecking suspense, intrigue and rich dialogue. One of the few books in my opinion that not only served as entertainment, but it was thought provoking and educational too. When the last page is turned you are left with a jaw-dropping ending and yet Lee Jackson left room for book three in the series too. The best part is that you don’t have to read Book 1 in the Cold War Series to enjoy this book, but you wouldn’t want to miss out on a beautiful father/ daughter story, now would you?
<span style=”font-size: 12pt;”So go on and splurge on an electrifying action packed emotional journey about a man who has to save the very country that betrayed him, all whilst staying one step ahead of his stubborn girlfriend and a relentless reporter.
WHAT SOME LEGENDS HAD TO SAY ABOUT THE BOOK:
Carmine Zozzora, Producer of Die Hard with a Vengeance and Color of Night. “Pure Gold! Atcho grabs you at the beginning, and won’t let go.”
Bill Thompson, Editor of Stephen King’s Carrie and John Grisham’s The Firm. “With this page-turning thriller, Lee connects the brooding mystic Rasputin to the Cold War, traces his dark influence into the present, and makes it relevant to today’s churning world events. Stunning!”
Lieutenant-General Rick Lynch (Retired), former Commanding General, 3rd Infantry Division during the Surge in Iraq.“Clearly one of the best books of historical fiction I have ever read. Extremely entertaining and educational at the same time.”
Joe Galloway, NYT Bestselling Author of We Were Soldiers Once…and Young (adapted to a Mel Gibson movie) and We Are Soldiers Still“Wow! The story is gripping and plausible, the warning real. A must read.”
Kris “Tanto” Paronto, Hero of Benghazi, Bestselling Author of The Ranger Way.“Riveting! Lee Jackson takes you on a thrilling ride through the intrigue of the Soviet Union as it races toward its final days. Feel the fight of those reaching for freedom against the chaos brought on by Rasputin. Couldn’t put it down.”
D. Donovan, Midwest Book Review.“It takes a deft hand and clear mind to weave past and present events together in such a manner that several possible future paths become crystal clear, but the main strength of Rasputin’s Legacy lies in its ability to introduce a cast of characters that swirl around Presidential politics and dangers without becoming confusing or overly complicated. Thriller readers who enjoy stories of espionage, subterfuge … will find high-octane action throughout Rasputin’s Legacy, with the special note that its exceptionally swift pace does not translate to an iota of confusion, and its conclusion is absolutely stunning…. (It) will keep readers guessing and on edge … from start to finish.”
EXCERPT
Burly thrust his hands deep into his pockets. “That’s right. You never spoke to either of them. They will both disavow you.” He studied Atcho’s face as if to discern whether he fully understood.
Atcho’s eyes narrowed.
“Got it. Has Yermolov made contactinside the Soviet Union?”
“Don’t know. A good bet is that he has. He’ll move cautiously. The CIA guy in Paris was monitoring a group with a lot of money. They might provide Yermolov safe haven until he’s built a base of
support inside the Soviet Union, and then finance his return.”
“What’s their skin in the game?”
Burly seemed reluctant to go into depth. “C’mon,” Atcho urged.
“I need to know this stuff.”
The big man spoke deliberately. “Elections are coming up in the Soviet Union in four months. They’re the first that resemble free elections since the Russian Revolution. Any disruption of voting
could set up a return to a Stalin-like dictatorship, and you know what that could mean for US-Soviet relations.”
“None of that explains why a group in Paris would help Yermolov.”
Burly arched his eyebrows. He sat back as if reluctant to proceed.
“We’ve known each other a long time, buddy. Stay with me. What I’m going to tell you is way out there.”
“Get on with it.”
Burly leaned toward Atcho. “Do you know anything about the fall of the tsar, or a Russian mystic called Rasputin?”
“I’ve heard of that Rasputin guy; and I know that the tsar’s family was executed. What does that have to do with now?”
Burly told him, in detail. Atcho listened, stunned. “Yermolov,” he whispered. “I suppose they want me to make sure he stays dead.”
As he spoke, visions swirled in his head, of unspeakably small torture boxes in dank, dark dungeons; of an impossible escape attempt under the unforgiving glare of an accursed full moon; of coerced training in a non-existent camp outside of Moscow; of years lost while separated from his beloved daughter. Would I risk that again?
Burly exhaled slowly. “I’m your friend. Believe that, even if I’m the guy sending you into harm’s way.” His reluctance to say more was palpable. “Reagan wants him alive.”
Atcho’s disbelief showed. “You can’t be serious. Reagan wants me to bring Yermolov back to Washington?”
Burly shrugged. “We need to know the damage he’s done, and we can’t allow him to pass more military secrets to the Soviets. But if you can’t catch him, kill him. Your call.”
Atcho closed his eyes and leaned his head back. “Does Gorbachev know about that part of the mission?”
“No.”
Atcho sat back in his chair, deep in thought. After some moments, he lifted his head and looked at Burly. “Anything on the burglary at my house?”
“Yeah.” Burly was somber. He reached into his pocket, pulled out several small objects, and held them in his open palm. “The cops think it was a burglary, but my guys did a sweep of your apartment.
Whoever it was planted these bugs there.”
Atcho stared at the listening devices. “So, someone is already on to this mission,” he said slowly.
“Maybe. The cops don’t know about the bugs. I’ll get them to downplay the burglary. Maybe that’ll keep Collins from going down that rabbit hole.”
Atcho stood. He felt fatigue seeping into his bones. “We can talk about this again tomorrow. I’ll give you my answer then.”
THAT”S RIGHT!!! Pre-Order purchasers will receive these 4 BONUSES FREE!
  • Bonus 1: The True
    Story Behind Atcho
  • Bonus 2: SMACKDOWN
    An Excerpt From a Work in Progress
  • Bonus 3: Aleksey’s
    Account of Rasputin’s Murder
  • Bonus 4: A
    Complimentary eBook of CURSE THE MOON*
* To receive your CURSE THE MOON eBook, email a copy of your
purchase receipt to GetDigitalCurseTheMoon@gmail.com.
For those who purchase Paperbacks during the Pre-Order period,
email a copy of your purchase receipt to GetDigitalCurseTheMoon@gmail.com.
You’ll receive back all the bonuses in eBook form.
If you would like your book autographed, tell us that in your email. We’ll provide back an address to which to send your copy. When sending, be sure to include pre-paid shipment materials to send the autographed book back to you.




Lee Jackson is a bestselling, award-winning thriller author. He was an Infantry officer with a front row seat on world affairs, and spent 38 months in Iraq and Afghanistan. Book 1 of his Cold War Series, Curse The Moon was published in 5 countries. Book 2, Rasputin’s Legacy, is due to go on pre-order on June 28, and will be fully released by July 28. Curse The Moon follows Atcho, a counter-revolutionary leader in Cuba turned unwilling spy in the U.S. The odds he faces seem overwhelming as he must choose between saving the world from nuclear holocaust – or his daughter. In Rasputin’s Legacy, he faces a surreal challenge: he must save the country that enslaved his own, or deliver control his personal desire for revenge? Lee Jackson lives and works with his wife in Texas.

 

Connect with him on the following sites:

 

The Cold War. A backdrop to betrayal. A playground to power. When his daughter is kidnapped, Cuban-born, West Point Graduate Atcho must be a sleeper agent to men he’d rather kill. Atcho’s rise opens doors into US National Defense even as a seemingly omniscient KGB officer holds unflinching sway over his actions. His public life clashes with secrets that only he and his tormentor share, isolating him in a world of intrigue among people whom he is determined not to betray. His choice: save his daughter, or save he world from nuclear holocaust.When the darkness of night is your only camouflage, you learn to Curse the Moon. Get your copy here now. Curse The Moon is the first book in Lee Jackson’s Cold War Series. The sequel, Rasputin’s Legacy, will be released in late-April 2017.In the tradition of Robert Ludlum’s page-turner, The Bourne Identity, Atcho fights against overwhelming odds, bleeds when hurt, and won’t back down. Think: Jason Bourne meets Dr. Zhivago.

To experience the violent intrigue of Cold War Cuba and Russia vs. the United States, get Curse The Moon today.

 

 

Book & Press Guild Reviewer: Natasha Johnstone

Curse The Moon: Cold War Rising

ISBN: 978-0-9898025-0-5

Author: Lee Jackson

Stonewall Publishers, LLC
RATED 4 GUILD STARS
Atcho is known by many names but his only goal is to find his daughter who was kidnapped by a Russian General called Govorov. All he wants to do is find her and flee to the US where he was a former student at West Point when he was younger. His friend Juan convinces him to go to a secret meeting with members of the CIA who wanted their help to rise up against Castro and might help him find her.
In a cruel twist of fate, just as he hears of her release, he is thrown into the middle of the Cuban Revolution where actual events are true and based on fact. He leads the revolutionaries through the battle of the Bay of Pigs, but things don’t go as planned and he gets caught where he spends fourteen years in the Boniato prison. He is sent to the Isle of Pines prison for another five years. He goes from planning and training men for revolution to planning and training men to escape out of prison. Though, he did not escape it was not in vain as years later one of the prisoners he helped escape is responsible for his release. Just when he reunites with his daughter, who’s own story is gripping, he finds himself working for the very same General Govorov and the Soviet Union to once again keep his daughter save.

Curse The Moon is an action packed, deeply moving story about a man’s desperate struggle to reunite with his daughter amid political, social and personal change. It grips the reader from the starts as depicted in this excerpt from the first paragraph: ‘Atcho slouched against a wall, alone in a small plaza illuminated by the dim yellow light of a single streetlamp. His eyes probed the surrounding darkness. His fine, aristocratic features were hidden behind a week’s growth of unkempt beard, while his normally well-groomed hair fell in shaggy brown locks below his ears. Since state Security Police, commonly referred to as G-2, had never seen Atcho, at least not as himself, they knew him only by reputation. Tonight, they would be looking for his messenger. Atcho’s ears strained for the sounds of approach. His powerful frame ached to be released from its tense stance. “For Isabel,” he muttered.
“From there, the mystery and intrigue incorporated into this action packed book by the ever present General Govorov in Atcho’s life ensures that the pages turn themselves!

But, there is more to this book than a thrilling personal story with a political backdrop. This remarkable book with very deep rooted plot lines portrays a very emotional story, which had a huge impact on me. The book integrates both the history of a country and a man, in an intelligent and gripping manner as well. In this beautifully written book, and in the ever changing landscape that is Atcho’s life, the only constant remains the moon as taken from this excerpt, “You’re always there,” Atcho murmured to the moon. “It seems you are the only benign constant in my life.” His mind drifted. (sic) The book is available at the following online stores:

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Blog Tour – At Winter’s Demand by Kirsten S. Blacketer

Stick her in the middle of a chaotic home with two children, a hyperactive dog, and a camouflage-wearing husband, and she can cook and clean with the best of them.  But when the sun goes down and the children are nestled in bed fast asleep, she tucks away her pots and broom and like Cinderella she transforms.

Her characters creep forth from the dark recesses of her mind taking their places in the castles and forests built from her words. No simpering heroines linger there with forlorn gazes turned to the horizon, waiting for their Prince Charming. They straighten their spine, arming themselves with blade and bow, prepared to do their part in defense of their honor and destiny. She breathes life into the women she believes our ancestors to be, showing how they lived and loved with passion and grace.

Never bored by the tales still left to tell, she battles the ever-sarcastic muse in her quest for romance.

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Blurb Skinny
A spirited country girl at the mercy of a silent thief harboring a dangerous secret.At Winters Demand Cover

Working at the inn Judith fears a constant state of boredom. One snowy night, three strange gentlemen appear and topple her quiet haven into chaos. The leader kidnaps her sister, leaving her under the stern eye of his silent compatriot. Her sister had warned her one day she’d cross the line. With him, that doesn’t take more than a frying pan to the head.

Simon detests disorder. Edmund charged him with one mission: find the jewels. But he never counted on a feisty, curvaceous hellcat standing in his way. She demands to be reunited with her sister in London, and Simon is more than willing to leave her on his friend’s doorstep. When she’s kidnapped at King’s Cross Station, he must summon all his unsavory resources to find the woman who unwittingly stole his heart.

Grab your copy now:    Kindle     Nook     iTunes     Smashwords

Swirl
At Winters Demand Blog Tour
22 Feb – Erzabet’s Enchantments
23 Feb – Indy Book Fairy
25 Feb – Foreplay & Fangs
25 Feb – Books on Fire
26 Feb – Night Owl Reviews
26 Feb – Torie James
27 Feb – Room with Books
27 Feb – Books & More
27 Feb – Life, Books & More
28 Feb – Cynthia Bloggs
28 Feb – Shelli Rosewarne

 

Excerpt skinny

As she washed the handful of dishes, Judith lost herself in thought. When the door to the kitchen swung open, she jumped and spun around, nearly dropping the bowl in her hand. She pressed a soapy hand to her chest to still her fluttering heart and glanced up.

The silent stranger stood in the center of the room, his gaze slowly moving along the walls. It slid past her without hesitation. Judith frowned.

“You’re about to drive me bloody insane,” she said through gritted teeth before turning back to her task. She finished the rest of the dishes, dried them, and put them away.

He never wavered from his task. When she passed him to put the pot on the shelf, his gaze fell on her for a brief moment. Before she could even discern the color of his eyes, he turned his back to her.

“Bloody knob,” Judith swore as she passed him again. His scent of leather mingling with notes of tobacco and vanilla blended with the familiar aroma of baked bread. Stopping behind him, she suppressed the urge to bury her face in his coat. Her eyes drifted closed, and she inhaled, drawing the scents deep, letting them linger.

When she opened her eyes, a pair of smoky hazel eyes stared at her. The faint shadow of a beard highlighted his jaw. His sharp features accentuated by the way his black hair slicked back into a queue.

“Fetch me some of that stew.”

Judith blinked twice, unsure if she heard him correctly or not.

“You can talk. Saints above, would it hurt you to polish your manners?” She pushed past him and reached for the ladle. Her hand hovered over the spoon, and then she dropped it to her side to hide the tremor. Her heart hammered in her chest as she turned back to him and met his cool expression with a scowl.

Judith propped her hands on her hips. “Tell me where my sister is first. You can at least do that much. I deserve to know where she is and if she’s even safe…” The words died on her lips as he reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a dangerous looking silver pistol.

“The stew, and bread too.” He leveled the barrel at her and cocked the hammer.

Judith swallowed the scream clawing at the back of her throat. With a nod, she ladled the stew into a large bowl and cut a loaf of bread in half. The knife nearly slipped from her grip. She pinched her eyes closed for a moment, refusing to look up and see the hollow barrel pointed at her head. Once she set the meal on the counter before her, she backed away without a word and wiped her hands on her apron in an attempt to hide their trembling.

He uncocked the revolver and slid it back beneath his coat. Without another word, he picked up the food and retreated into the parlor.

When the door swung shut, Judith dropped boneless to the floor. Her heart hammered in her chest as her hands shook.

A gun! He pointed a gun at me. She buried her face in her hands and felt the hot tears against her palms.

“Jess, what the hell have you done to me?”

New Newsletter News: Kirsten Blacketer

I have to say that I love getting newsletters from my favourite authors and just this week I discovered that one of my best Historical Fiction authors is launching her newsletter and I cannot wait!! Her books are always a great read and I am a huge fan of her Facebook page too, but the idea of getting behind the scenes info and advance access to news via her newsletter is exactly the kind of excitement that an author newsletter should create in the reader!

Author Kirsten Blacketer

More about Kirsten Blacketer… Stick her in the middle of a chaotic home with two children, a hyperactive dog, and a camouflage wearing husband, and she can cook and clean with the best of them.  But when the sun goes down and the children are nestled in bed fast asleep, she tucks away her pots and broom and like Cinderella she transforms.

Her characters creep forth from the dark recesses of her mind taking their places in the castles and forests built from her words. No simpering heroines linger there with forlorn gazes turned to the horizon, waiting for their Prince Charming. They straighten their spine, arming themselves with blade and bow, prepared to do their part in defense of their honor and destiny. She breathes life into the women she believes our ancestors to be, showing how they lived and loved with passion and grace.

Never bored by the tales still left to tell, she battles the ever sarcastic muse in her quest for romance.

http://kirstensblacketer.com/

After you check out her great website, please do yourself a favour and sign up to her brand new newsletter… I promise you won’t be sorry!!

Kirsten Blacketer Newsletter Subscription

Are there any authors you would like to recommend to me?  I would love to hear from you.

Until next time…

BM xx