The McAllister Justice Series Book 1
by Reily Garrett
The McAllister Justice Series Book 1
by Reily Garrett
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THE MOMMY DETECTIVES AND THE BINGO HALL MYSTERY
The Mommy Detectives series, book 1
by Alathia Paris Morgan
“I suppose not. Never mind. Thank you.” He dismissed the girl.
Sarah Brown sets out on a journey to sensual self-discovery and falls face first into danger. In Barcelona, Anthony de Luca, a renowned travel author and photographer, unleashes the full force of his charm that threatens to steal her heart, a prize he openly admits he doesn’t want. Still, she can’t resist him, and finds herself experiencing the heights of ecstasy and the lows of heartbreak as her lover leaves without a word. In Berlin, Paul Christiansen, a handsome Dutch Lothario with a sordid past, works his wiles to seduce her body while in the shadows, a predator stalks a young boy close to Sarah determined to get what he wants or kill anyone who gets in his way. One of her two lovers has led a dangerous criminal straight to her door, but which one, and who can she trust?
A Dark Prequel to Digital Velocity (The McAllister Justice Series Book 1)
by Reily Garrett
Theft of spirit is no one’s birthright.
A quirk of her X chromosome furnished Alexis with an edge few others enjoyed. After fate plunged her into orphan status and an intolerable foster home forced her to the streets, a group of prostitutes sheltered her from their vicious pimp. Seeing something special within, they nurtured and shielded her from their harsh reality until she could forge her own path in life.
Destiny frequently takes us back to our roots. Lexi’s return journey begins when a serial killer attacks one of her adopted sisters. Relying on courage and wit, she must stay a step ahead and secure evidence to free her family from a psychopathic murderer.
“Jesus, Charlie. Hold on. I’ll get you to a hospital.” Lexi swallowed hard against the rising tide of acid degrading her throat’s lining as the unfolding scene corrupted her sanity. Pressure against the makeshift bandage on Charlie’s belly wound yielded a deeper crimson soaking her jacket, the provisional dressing secured by fingers encased in a thickening, sticky glove. So much blood.
This could’ve been Lexi’s fate—stabbed, slashed, disfigured for all time, blood forming rivulets pooling in the alley’s filth. Maroon puddles mingled with body fluids common to alleys sheltering the homeless as if destined to couple in a macabre, virulent concoction.
“R-run, Lexi. D-don’t let him make you a w-whore. I wasn’t—strong enough. Y-you were never p-part of the street life.” Trash and other filth from the narrow passageway cushioned Charlie’s bruised and battered head. One front tooth was missing, probably swallowed, while blood seeped from jagged slashes on her cheeks and brow, both career enders in the event she survived. “You shouldn’t be here. It was a mistake to text you, but the cops wouldn’t believe us girls.”
“Did your pimp do this, Charlie? What’s his real name?” Tell me so I can help you.
Remnants of a cardboard box, a vagabond’s homemade privy, retained odors of the dispossessed, rivaled only by the excrement saturating every molecule of thickened air drawn into her lungs. This was no place and no way to die.
“Yeah—said I stole from a customer. But I didn’t. The b-bastard just wanted a freebie.” Otherworldly pain glazed eyes forecasting a nonexistent future while icy wind leached color from a once-beautiful face now smeared with crimson streaks and pain. “Won’t tell you his name. I didn’t want to die alone. You’re f-free. You made it.”
“No, Charlie. I’ll get help. Lie still while I secure a pressure dressing.” This late at night, there’d be few cars to flag down and no foot traffic from which to enlist help. She was forced to rely on emergency personnel who’d classify the incident as NHI, no human involved.
Terror-induced flashbacks spewed forth of a stranger offering refuge to a teenager standing on a precipice, a choice. She’d first thought him relatively handsome, not understanding the slimy base of his character. She’d had no experience with pimps. Still, something inside steered her away from his pleasant façade. Perhaps she’d sensed his underlying character. Instinct had directed her to the unknown, where a small group of prostitutes offered shelter and nurtured her mind.
With one hand, Lexi freed her belt and maneuvered it under the fallen girl’s tiny waist amid groans and mewling cries. Youth and a livelihood from flatbacking necessitated a svelte figure, which facilitated her efforts to cinch the leather strap tight. Lexi reached for the cell clutched in Charlie’s hand, knowing the late hour meant a longer wait for help. Her fingers, covered in sticky crimson ropes of blood, tangled briefly with Charlie’s, a squishy squeeze to lend encouragement. Another bolus of acid rose in her throat.
“No.” One word spoken from the disembodied voice behind her could flash freeze Hell and instigate the formation of ice crystals in any world, under any circumstance.
COMING APRIL 24!
Keyboard prodigy, Lexi Donovan has risen from teenage orphan of the streets to complete independence with little help along the way. When a friend is threatened, Lexi’s anonymous message sends police into a firefight, leading to a wounded cop.
Detective Ethan McAllister’s well-ordered life turned upside down the day an obscure text message led to a sexual predator’s identity. Since then, Callouston PD’s finest can’t trace the elusive hacker. The latest tip leads him to a brutal mutilation and a riddle indicating the identity of the next murder victim.
The dark net houses a playground for the morally depleted and criminally insane. When Lexi discovers the killer’s digital betting arena, she finds herself centered in a cyber stalker’s crosshairs bearing equal talent.
Street life strengthened Lexi while toughening her protective shell, but nothing could shield her from the shrewd detective forging a path to her heart.
Reily’s employment as an ICU nurse, private investigator, and work in the military police has given her countless experiences in a host of different environments to add a real world feel to her fiction.
Though her kids are her life, writing is Reily’s life after. The one enjoyed…after the kids are in bed or after they’re in school and the house is quiet. This is the time she kicks back with laptop and lapdog to give her imagination free rein.
In life, hobbies can come and go according to our physical abilities, but you can always enjoy a good book. Life isn’t perfect, but our imaginations can be. Relax, whether it’s in front of a fire or in your own personal dungeon. Take pleasure in a mental pause as you root for your favorite hero/heroine and bask in their accomplishments, then share your opinions of them over a coffee with your best friend (even if he’s four legged). Life is short. Cherish your time.
MURDER IN VAIL
Sally Braddock’s serene lifestyle atop a mountain in Vail, Colorado, changes drastically each year when her three spoiled children and their spouses visit her – and her money – for Christmas. They live off their trust funds, which are disappearing quickly, and spend most of the holidays bickering and hitting up their mother for money.
This year, Sally makes an announcement that sends her children into a tizzy, an announcement so extreme that it pushes someone in the house to murder. The storm inside the house is matched by a raging blizzard outside, and the family finds themselves snowbound with a killer.
Thunder cracked and lightning lit up the room. She pulled the covers up to her neck, clutching the sheets. She lay still as a statue, paralyzed by the storm. Even with her entire family in the house, Sally felt afraid. The storm made the house feel so unnatural, so eerie.
Lying in bed, dreading the next bolt of lightning, Sally’s mind went immediately to the disaster of a dinner. I wish I hadn’t lost my temper, she thought regretfully. I wanted to break the news gently, not scream it at them. She remembered the shock and hurt in their faces and felt guilty. She needed to find some way of making peace, of calming everything down.
Another crack of lightning pierced the winter night, this one very close, and illuminated the room. Suddenly, she thought she saw the doorknob begin to turn. Then it stopped. Then it started again. Probably one of the kids, she decided, but the way it started, stopped, and then started again disturbed her.
“Is someone there?” she called out. The doorknob stopped turning, and she thought she heard footsteps scurrying away.
In January Jen Selinsky sat down with Judy to interview her, her books and everything author related. Visit Jen’s website to find out more about Judy.
Judy Moore writes primarily mysteries and thrillers, as well as lighter family fiction. A longtime news writer, editor, and magazine feature writer, her fiction and nonfiction work has been published in numerous national publications. Her novels are published by BTGN publishers. A lifelong Florida resident, she is a former tennis pro and sports writer, so her stories sometimes have a sports backdrop. Her novel “Somebody Killed the Cart Girl” is a golf mystery, and her “Murder in Vail” is set on the ski slopes of Colorado. Her Christmas anthology “Christmas Interrupted,” contains three popular novellas: “Airport Christmas,” “The Holiday House Sitter,” and “The Hitchhiker on Christmas Eve.” An earlier novella, “Birds of Prey,” and her new novelette “Football Blues,” are also available on Amazon.
HER BROTHER’S KEEPER
Jane Barnaby has planned the perfect Christmas vacation. Her father and his fiancé are joining her in Spain at her archaeological dig. They’ll see her work, meet her mentor, and they’ll all enjoy a few days of sunny Mediterranean beaches in the dead of winter.
But it all falls apart when Jane’s annoying (younger?) brother tags along and lands in jail for a crime he didn’t commit.
To clear her brother’s name, all Jane has to do is chase a wily female con-artist across Europe, catch her, and confront the woman and her accomplices. Oh, and outwit an ex-KGB agent and his personal goon squad along the way.
God, I wish you were here. Not just because I miss you, although obviously I do. And not just because this is yet another Christmas we’re not spending together, which is kind of ridiculous when you think about it. We’ve been dating for three years now, and we still haven’t spent a major holiday together. That’s just not right.
The biggest reason I wish you were here is that, if you were, I wouldn’t be where I am right now. Which is on a plane headed to Vienna.
I’m sure you’re asking yourself right now, “Why, Barnaby? What are you doing flying to Austria?”
Well, I’m flying there to try and find a Russian woman possibly named Natasha who seduced my brother, drugged his drink and left him behind as a patsy for the police to find while she stole jewelry from a princess. Aren’t you glad you asked?
If you were here, you would have been with us at the hotel, and you would have warned my brother away from Natasha. By the way, I refuse to believe that’s her actual name. Does she have a partner named Boris, too?
Does she fight a moose and a squirrel every week?
FINDERS KEEPERS – 99 cents
It should have been a simple job. All archaeology student Jane Barnaby had to do was pick up a box her professor needed and deliver it to him at his dig site, along with his new car. Yes, his office was in Oxfordshire, and his dig site was in Spain, a trip of 1,400 miles across three countries and two bodies of water. Still, it should have been simple.
And it was, until Jane discovered she picked up the wrong box by mistake. Not the one with boring pottery samples, but instead the one with priceless ancient Egyptian artifacts. The one that a team of international art thieves is after.
Now she’s chasing – and being chased by – the thieves. And she’s picked up a pair of passengers who claim they can help her outwit them, get her professor’s pottery back and return the artifacts to their rightful owner. If only she could figure out which one of them is working with the thieves and which one she can trust in this high-stakes game of finders keepers.
LOSERS WEEPERS – 99 cents
Jane Barnaby had everything going her way: a prestigious internship at the Museum of Natural History, a fantastic Upper West Side sublet apartment, and helping plan her newly-engaged college friend’s wedding.
Until a casual lunch with her friend’s fiancé set off alarm bells, and sent her digging into the rabbit hole that is his past.
When that rabbit hole leads Jane and her on-again, off-again boyfriend to the English countryside, uncovering secrets dating back to World War 2, searching for priceless art treasures looted by the Nazis, and fighting off the thieves who will kill to get those treasures for themselves, will they discover the truth, or lose their lives?
His popular Dream Series continues to delight readers with each and every exciting installment.
Born in Yonkers, New York, he currently resides in Arlington Virginia with his beautiful wife and a cat he is sure has taken full advantage of its nine lives. When it comes to the cat, he often wonders, but then again it might just be his imagination.
Rebecca, a brilliant cancer researcher, disappears after a one-night stand with a neurotic man with a questionable past.
Her sudden disappearance in the midst of a high-stakes quest to cure cancer between two rival billionaires sets into motion an inexplicable chain of events as the bodies start to pile up.
No one knows why she disappeared. The race to find answers ensnares everyone around her, one of whom is a deeply disturbed psychopath lurking in the shadows.
Is Rebecca still alive? What happened to her? Who did it? And why? Questions about her vex everyone looking for answers. No one can be trusted and no one is above suspicion…
Day 1, Thursday
The King & Duke Bar, New York City
She was wearing a gorgeous black dress.
The first things he noticed about her were her slender legs and her delicate wrist. She wore a thin diamond bracelet that sparkled in the low light of the hotel bar as she drank her martini, almost unaware of her surroundings. She was a gorgeous golden blonde with features that were tough to look away from, or ever forget.
She pulled out her purse and started to go through it when something fell out of it. She bent over to pick up the fallen object, half sitting on the bar stool when he walked over to help her pick it up.
He didn’t know what got over him, but he had to walk over to help her, to get noticed by her, to be an infinitesimally small part of her life, even if for just a few moments. He reached out for the object, just a few moments quicker than her, their hands almost colliding mid-air when, to his horror, he noticed the object was a tampon. Rather than recoil he swallowed his fear and embarrassment and cupped the tampon and handed it gently and discretely back to her. She skillfully grabbed it from his hand and before he knew it, the tampon was back in her purse and she looked up and gave him a wide smile.
“Hi, I’m Rebecca. It’s nice to meet you.”
“I’m uh, I’m uh…..I’m so sorry. I just didn’t know it was a, a, a, you know, a..”
She burst out laughing and he took the bar stool next to hers, still red in the face, but feeling better knowing she found the whole episode amusing, probably more so given his reaction. Before long, he introduced himself, this time, actually telling her his name, trying not to think about the tampon incident.
“I’m Ragnar, Ragnar Johnson.”
“Yes and no. I’m American, but the name is Scandinavian. Norwegian actually. Believe it or not, my parents named me after a character from an Ayn Rand novel.”
“Atlas Shrugged, I know. The capitalist pirate.” She was suppressing a chuckle and smiling.
“Well, here’s the whole story. My parents adored Ayn Rand, her ideas and her books. They decided to name the children after key characters from Atlas Shrugged.”
“So you have a sibling named John Galt?”
“Close enough. Two brothers, John Johnson and Francisco Johnson. Thankfully we all got to keep our family last name. Can you imagine me as a Ragnar Danneskjöld?”
They chatted about what brought her to New York City. She told him that she was a medical executive and was traveling to the city for a large cancer conference that was well-attended every year by executives of large pharmaceutical and biotech companies, academic researchers, oncologists, as well as sales and marketing executives from across the spectrum of companies. Her company was presenting results for and launching their latest cancer drug, a highly publicized next-generation miracle drug.
Before she joined her company, she was an assistant cancer researcher in the laboratory of Dr. Steven Gupta, the country’s leading cancer researcher, whose groundbreaking discoveries in the field of cancer fueled the laboratories of several large and small pharmaceutical and biotech companies.
“So Dr. Gupta is probably one of the richest doctors on planet, I presume?” he asked.
“On the contrary, he’s been so immersed in his quest to cure cancer, academic glory and possibly a Nobel Prize in medicine that he never really benefitted financially from his discoveries. In an effort to continue to push his research through the labs of the giant pharmaceutical companies at the fastest possible pace, he licensed out all his research without any real benefit to himself.” He sensed a tinge of sadness in her face and in a fleeting moment it was replaced by the same warm smile and she turned to sip her martini.
He thought that not only was she the striking beauty that one could not take their eyes off, or ever forget, she was also a smart, highly intelligent and a compassionate person who cared about the work she did for the broader good of humanity.
“And what brings you here today, Mr. Knight in Shining Armor, rescuing ladies who’ve dropped their tampons?”
No lie he could’ve made up would match up to what she was in reality. After all, he did get more than he bargained for since he first set eyes on her sitting alone at the bar. No lies, just the truth. The plain and simple truth. It did not matter to him anymore what she would think of him.
“I’m an unemployed trader. Nothing is more clichéd than a jobless failed trader in New York, I guess.” She put her hand on his saying, without any spoken words, that she was sorry and sympathetic. “I lost my job at one of the large investment banks in the city a few months ago. I worked on a trading desk, tracking complicated securities and setting up even more complicated trades. I was good at numbers growing up. I thrived as a quantitative analyst at the bank. A quantitative analyst analyzes reams and reams of trading information to identify trends and signals in the data that could help in predicting the direction of securities prices and hopefully make money in the process. I worked on setting up trades in arcane securities and made money day in and day out for the first few years, till one day the house of cards came tumbling down.”
He glanced at her to see her reaction. “Following a quick turn of events those trades lost hundreds of millions of dollars for the bank within days and I was thrown out of there before I could catch my breath or understand what happened. It turns out we were picking up pennies in front of a steamroller. We lost multiples of what we made in the last few years. I had a lot of my personal money invested in the same trades too. Not sure if I’m ever going to find another job again after that disaster.”
She was probably stunned by the admission, but did not show it.
“Anyways, I was at the Bowery Ballroom earlier tonight to watch my favorite indie rock band. They’re from New Zealand and they’re in the city for a couple of shows. Thought I’d stop for a drink after the show before calling it a night. My place is close by from here.”
She smiled. “You know this happened to my father too when I was young. He lost his job in security at the local Wal-Mart after an employee was caught for theft. She was skimming cash and shoplifting with the help of some other employees before they finally caught her. My father lost his job in the cleanup that followed. It took him over a couple of years before he found his next job. He was a changed person after that but he always said that those two years were the happiest days of his life.”
“I kind of miss the excitement and the thrill of the trading desk. I trade on and off with my own money but it’s not much to begin with. New York’s an expensive place.” He pensively stared at the beer he had ordered but not sipped yet.
“You know, I was a huge fan of 80s hair bands.” she said steering the conversation in a different direction.
“Why am I not surprised? So what’s your favorite 80s band?”
“Guns N’ Roses. You?”
“Def Leppard. Favorite GN’R song?” he asked, trying to imagine her head banging to Welcome to the Jungle.
“Rocket Queen. What about your favorite Leppard song?” She was clearly waiting for his reaction to her answer.
“Uh, Rocket Queen, huh. Mine’s uhh, it’s probably Bringin’ On the Heartbreak. You know the moaning in Rocket Queen is really Axl Rose getting nasty with..”
She nodded. “Umm hmm, that’s what I like about the song.” she said with an evil grin on her face, like she just got caught with a guilty secret. “Never would’ve counted you as a mushy type, though.”
They spent the next few hours talking about the 80s bands, must-go places in New York City, curing cancer, his former job, her days as a researcher and her father. The chemistry was undeniable and he was intoxicated by her beauty and intelligence and yet down-to-earth manner. He knew she felt their chemistry too.
“This is going to sound a bit strange, but do you mind if I crash at your place tonight? There’s construction that starts at night just outside my hotel window. Kept me up most of the night yesterday. I know it sounds strange, but..”
“No, no, no problem. You’re welcome to spend the night. It’s a small place, but I’m happy to spend the night on the sofa tonight. It’s quite cozy, honestly. You can take my bed.” He tried to be the nice guy and not too direct.
He sensed a hint of disappointment in her voice for a moment and then she was herself again. “Let me pick up a few things from my room and I’ll be right back. I’ll see you in the lobby in a few. Thanks Ragnar, I really appreciate it”
“Don’t mention it. I’ll wait for you in the lobby.”
Nicholas Nash is the exciting new author of The Girl At The Bar, a psychological thriller about the mysterious disappearance of a brilliant cancer researcher and the quest to find her. Nicholas resides in the concrete jungle of Manhattan in New York City with his wife and three children. An accomplished finance professional, he has a passion for reading fiction and non-fiction books which inspired him to write an intriguing thriller. Nicholas hopes you enjoy his work. For news and updates, email us at firstname.lastname@example.org.
Felicity Brown craves singing the blues, and wants to ditch the showgirl image forced on her as a child.
After being discovered by a talent agent, she suddenly finds herself in danger, but has no idea why.
Derek St James has been searching for a star, and knows he has finally found her. He spends many months nurturing Felicity, and falls head over heels in love with her.
He didn’t sign up for the danger that surrounds her, but needs to get to the bottom of it if he has any chance of spending the rest of his life with the woman he loves.