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Showing posts with label amazon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label amazon. Show all posts

Wednesday, March 5, 2025

Review of Twist of Time by GY Waldron (#thriller, # Contests- $20 Amazon.com Gift Card)

TWIST OF TIME

by Gy Waldron

February 10 - March 7, 2025 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

Twist of Time by Gy Waldron

A fast-paced thriller by Emmy Award-nominated screenwriter, producer, and director Gy Waldron

Detective Sgt. Kate Flynn of the Santa Barbara Police Department is called in to investigate a gruesome decapitation and homicide. Her first clue comes from a most unlikely source: an Anglican monk and Celtic studies expert.

Brother Thomas has been expecting the hand-delivery of a priceless diary of a fourteenth-century Templar Knight, but instead he finds the messenger has been murdered.

Kate and Thomas are pulled deep into a centuries-old mystery with roots in medieval Europe and branches that lead to government intelligence, the Vatican, and a top-secret private lab where untold powers were being alchemized that could alter the face of humanity forever.

It's a race against evil to uncover a plot that could lead them to centuries-old treasure-or to their own demise at the hands of a deranged tech billionaire who has nothing to lose.

With parallel quests for the truth taking place centuries apart, and a touch of mysticism, readers will be taken on a suspenseful journey with one twist after another in Twist of Time, an electrifying novel of intrigue and history.

Readers of thrillers and novels of suspense by Dan Brown, Ken Follett, David Baldacci will savor every surprise in screenwriter Gy Waldron's fiction debut.

Book Details:

Genre: Thriller
Published by: First Fruits Publishing
Publication Date: August 20, 2024
Number of Pages: 336
ISBN: 9798869378163
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads

MY THOUGHTS: 


"Twist of Time" is thrilling and has two gripping and realistic timelines. The main characters, Brychan, a Templar Knight, and Kate Flynn, a Santa Barbara Detective, are strong characters in their timelines. The author smoothly connected the story lines with a historical backdrop, creating an exciting narrative. Additionally, different fonts distinguish between the two timelines, complementing the reading experience.
The characters worked well in each timeline, and many twists kept me engaged, so I finished the book rather quickly. The author did a great job researching the history surrounding the Templars, which added to the mystery.  

 

Author Bio:

Gy Waldron is an Emmy Award-nominated screenwriter, producer, and director who has written chart-topping television sitcoms, dramas, miniseries, and movies. He has created three network series, including The Dukes of Hazzard, and is known for the action-comedy film Moonrunners, which he wrote and directed.He started his writing career in Hollywood working as a staff writer for legendary producer Norman Lear on hit shows such as One Day at a Time. After an eight-year run with The Dukes of Hazzard, he segued into true crime limited series. He received an Emmy Award nomination for the six-hour limited series Billionaire Boys Club, and wrote other projects, including The Menendez Brothers, Brotherhood of the Rose, Innocent Victims, and The Unabomber.His creative work for theater received an American National Theater and Academy (ANTA) Award.In 2024, Gy Waldron received a Grady Fellowship from his alma mater, the Grady College of Journalism and Mass Communications at the University of Georgia. Whether writing for screen, for the stage, or for readers around the world, Waldron is widely known for his unique blend of action, comedy, and suspense, always leaving audiences highly entertained.With a background of serving in U.S. counterintelligence in Europe, Gy (a.k.a. Gyneth) has written about the fields of intelligence and crime. Stationed in Germany in the late 1950s, he was on the KGB desk working with captured Gestapo files and monitoring CIC (Counter Intelligence Corps) operations against various Communist intelligence services during the Cold War. Additionally, he worked with American operatives in executing orders from U.S. Command.He draws heavily on his experiences when writing fiction. Prior to his career in Hollywood, Gy worked in broadcast television at WSB-TV in Atlanta, Georgia. There, he was a director of specials, sports, and documentaries. Gy worked on many civil rights documentaries and directed feeds to NBC's Huntley-Brinkley Report that focused on Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and his associates.A native Southerner, he now lives in Malibu, California, in a canyon between the mountains and the ocean where he is writing his next novel, Fugue.

Catch Up With Gy Waldron:
www.gy-waldron.com
Amazon Author Profile
Goodreads

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Friday, February 28, 2025

Spotlight of You Will Know Me By My Deeds by Mike Cobb (#contests- Enter to win an Amazon Gift Card)

YOU WILL KNOW ME BY MY DEEDS

by Mike Cobb

February 24 - March 21, 2025 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

You Will Know Me by My Deeds by Mike Cobb

Billy Tarwater thought he had left the troubled past behind, until a series of ominous incidents threaten to destroy everything he and his wife hold dear.

Someone is out to get them, and he is determined to uncover the truth before it’s too late. But as he delves deeper into the mystery, he realizes that the dark forces at play may be connected to the events of seventeen years ago.

And to the Atlanta Child Murders.

Join him on a heart-pounding journey of suspense and intrigue as he navigates the dangerous waters of his past and fights to protect the ones he loves.

In a race against an unknown enemy, Billy must confront his darkest fears. Will he be able to uncover the truth before it’s too late, or will he and his wife become victims of the sinister forces at play?

Praise for You Will Know Me by My Deeds:

"Mike Cobb’s You Will Know Me by My Deeds is a taut, propulsive tale set against the harrowing backdrop of the 1980’s Atlanta Child Murders. Entertainingly addictive and menacing."
~ Robert Gwaltney, award-winning author of The Cicada Tree and Georgia Author of the Year

"Mike Cobb's Atlanta-based historical fiction easily holds its place on the bookshelf next to Caleb Carr’s Alienist novels."
~ Joey Madia, author of Sherlock Holmes and the Mystery of M and the Stanton Chronicles historical fiction series

"Mike Cobb’s enthralling and meticulously-researched mystery, You Will Know Me by My Deeds, sets a lofty standard for contemporary thrillers. Set in the heart of the ‘new’ south, Cobb’s vividly-wrought tale propels his readers through the tumult of an era and illuminates race relations at a difficult moment in Atlanta’s modern history. Grab this book for a satisfying and uplifting read."
~ Steve Klein, Civil Rights Activist

"I couldn’t put this book down and had to finish it in one sitting! Once again Mike Cobb has crafted a plausible story with strong characters, a sense of place, and rich historical detail regarding a tragic chapter of my beloved Atlanta’s history – the missing and murdered children from 1979 to 1981."
~ Lisa Land Cooper, Author and Historian

"Mike Cobb’s prose is powerful, and his plot is dark, complex and full of surprises. You will find a rich, earthy view of old Atlanta complete with all its beauty, weaknesses and the diverse attitudes of the Old South."
~ Jeff Shaw, author of Who I Am; The Man Behind the Badge and Lieutenant Trufant

"A bracing historical thriller that further enriches this top-notch series."
~ Kirkus Reviews

"This is an excellent book with an engaging mystery and an intriguing conclusion. It’s clear that research is paramount to Mike Cobb’s writing. I could really identify with how he wove true crimes into this fictional one. I look forward to reading more from him."
~ Ed Begley Jr., Award-winning actor, producer, environmental activist, and author of To the Temple of Tranquility…and Step On It!: A Memoir

You Will Know Me by My Deeds Trailer:

Book Details:

Genre: Historical Crime Fiction
Published by: Waterside Production
Publication Date: January 2025
Number of Pages: 444
ISBN: 978-1962984720
Series: Sequel to The Devil You Knew
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads

Read an excerpt:

Chapter One

Cynthia Tarwater

Monday, December 14th, 1981

Two blurred headlights, ragged halos in the rearview, broke the Stygian pitch.

Cynthia gripped the steering wheel so hard her knuckles blanched.

The rain cascaded down the windshield in gelid sheets. The wiper blades thwacked the edge of the Suburban’s cowl like a metronome.

For the past twenty-four hours, Atlanta had been beset by a heavy downfall and scant visibility.

She struggled to make out the road ahead.

For the first five minutes of the drive, Billy Jr. and Addie had jabbered away in the back seat like sugar-high Energizer Bunnies. Then they sank into oblivion. Just like that, she thought. Nothing like a weekend sleepover at Grandma Alice’s to wear the kids out.

She stopped at the intersection of Flat Shoals and Glenwood. The barbershop to her left was long gone, a victim of white flight, its plate glass windows boarded up with fly-posted plywood. She could almost hear the snip snip of Mr. Batson’s clippers beckoning from yore. The snap of Sam Jepperson’s shoeshine cloth beseeching a generous tip. The redolence of Bay Rum and Kiwi polish. Not that she ever got her hair cut—or her shoes shined—there. But her father Cecil dragged her along on more than one occasion with the promise that they’d go next door for a vanilla shake if only she’d sit like a “good girl” and watch him get trimmed. She had often wondered whether he did things like that just to piss her off. His way of controlling. Or did he really want her company?

The car that had been following her since she pulled out of Billy’s mother’s driveway lingered half a block behind. When the light changed, she turned left onto Glenwood. She looked in the mirror. The car turned left and kept its distance. Probably nothing.

At the Gresham Avenue intersection, she glanced over at what had been Harry’s Army Surplus. Now, like the barbershop, just another padlocked casualty.

A long-suppressed memory welled up. Saturday, September 28th, 1963. She was thirteen. So capricious and carefree, like most girls her age. She left the East Atlanta Pharmacy by the front door and headed west toward Moreland Avenue. Just past Harry’s, she looked back and saw a car following her. When she stopped, it stopped. When she went, it went.

That had been her last recollection from before the erasure—what she later came to know by its medical name. Localized psychogenic amnesia. For seventeen years, the next thing she had remembered was waking up at Grady Hospital with an officer standing guard outside her door. The nurse had said You’re not Cynthia now. You’re Patti. With an i. Or something to that effect. She would later learn that the police had contrived the alias to protect her from her abductor.

It wasn’t until October a year ago that everything began coming back to Cynthia in a torrent. What had been an eradication of five weeks of her past, leaving in its wake a deep, dark abyss, had begun to come back in a matter of days. This wouldn’t have happened without Billy’s help. And his dogged determination.

Did she welcome the recovered memory? There were times when she wondered whether knowing was better than incognizance. Closure would feel right. But knowledge alone doesn’t bring closure.

And could closure ever come for the families of the girls who didn’t survive? Why had she made it out alive, and the others hadn’t?

She inched her way down Glenwood past Moreland Avenue. At the Boulevard intersection, she glanced across the street at Fire Station No. 10. A half dozen firemen were huddled under the overhang in front of the station. For a moment, she thought she saw Billy’s brother Chester standing there smoking a cigarette and chatting up the others. But Chester hadn’t lasted a year as a fireman before bugging out for the merchant marines, thinking he could avoid the draft. He ended up on the SS Mayaguez ferrying supplies through combat zones in Vietnam. Came home intact but with a chip on his shoulder.

She turned right.

She drove up Boulevard past Memorial Drive, hugging the eastern edge of Oakland Cemetery before assuming a northwesterly course past the shuttered Fulton Cotton Mill and through the railroad underpass.

She looked back. The car continued to follow her. That’s when she realized that it wasn’t nothing.

Perhaps she should have taken the expressway. But she had chosen not to. Visibility was bad enough on the surface roads.

As she neared the intersection with Ponce de Leon, the light turned yellow. She accelerated and took a hard left, hoping the car would stop on red. It didn’t. When she turned right on Peachtree, then left on Fifth, the driver continued to dog her.

Cynthia eased into The Belmont courtyard. The other car stopped briefly at the turn-in then crept down Fifth. She craned her neck, trying to get a good look at it. At the driver. But she could see little through the relentless downpour and the fogged windshield.

She parked the Suburban at The Belmont entrance. She waited for the rain to abate enough for her to get the kids inside without a drenching. Then she hurried them into the lobby under her flimsy throwaway umbrella made for one.

She closed the umbrella and hooked it on her wrist. She held Billy Jr. and Addie’s hands tight, lest they slip on the marble floor.

They crossed the threshold into the elevator cab, leaving a trail of dripping water behind. She punched 4.

When the doors opened, Billy was standing in the fourth-floor vestibule. He was in his light beige mackintosh and floppy yellow rain hat.

“Clairvoyant, are we?” Cynthia said.

“I saw you out the window and was on my way down to help. But you beat me to it.” He placed his hand on her upper arm. “Cynthia, you’re trembling.”

“It’s just the biting cold. I’m fine. I need to get these rug rats out of their wet clothes and into their PJs. And then sit for a while. You can park the car if you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t mind. That’s the least I can do.”

She held out the umbrella. “Want this?”

“No thanks.” He knelt in front of Billy Jr. and Addie. “How’s Grandma?”

“Feisty as ever,” Cynthia answered. “She sure knows how to cut a look. But the kids adore her, and that’s what matters most. And compared to my mother…let’s just say you’re the lucky one and leave it at that.”

When Billy returned, Cynthia was already curled up in her favorite overstuffed chair with a glass of Merlot. Her socks and Clarks slip-ons lay pell-mell on the floor about her. The open umbrella stood atilt in the corner of the room.

“That was quick,” he said.

She took a sip. Notes of black cherry, of vanilla and sandalwood, teased her throat. “I’m sure the kids are deep into sugar-plum dreams by now. Grab a pour and join me. There’s something you need to know.”

Billy, glass in hand, plopped into the chair beside her. “What is it?”

“I need to tell you about a flashback I had. And about a car.”

He listened as Cynthia told him about the car that had followed her from his mother’s house. “Could you tell what kind it was?” he asked.

“I couldn’t tell a thing, Billy.” She ran her finger along the chair’s piping, tracing in her mind the path she had taken. “All I know is it looked big. Maybe a sedan.”

“I don’t think you should be out late at night by yourself, Cynthia. It seems like every day more shit happens. Carjackings. Murders.”

“At least Wayne Williams is locked up.” She searched her thoughts. “Those poor children. And their grieving families.”

Billy’s hesitation baffled her. He just sat there for a minute without saying a word. He finally spoke. “Tell me about the flashback.”

“The whole thing with the kidnapping came rushing back tonight. It hit me hard, just as I passed the old army surplus. I guess it was my being right there where my thirteen-year-old self had been lured away.” She held her glass in the air. “More, please.”

He refilled it and topped his off. He set the bottle on the side table, leaned over, and took her hand. “I’m so sorry, Cynthia.”

“It wasn’t what I expected. I thought I had finally put it all behind me, with Kilgallon…excuse me, the Reverend Kilgallon…dead and Sam Jepperson exonerated and freed. But now I’m not so certain. Maybe it’ll haunt me forever.”

“I hope not. I just wish there was something I could do to make things better.”

“I’ll be okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Life goes on, doesn’t it? And I don’t believe I have a choice in the matter.”

***

Excerpt from You Will Know Me by My Deeds by Mike Cobb. Copyright 2025 by Mike Cobb. Reproduced with permission from Mike Cobb. All rights reserved.

 

 

Author Bio:

Mike Cobb

Mike’s body of literary work includes both fiction and nonfiction, short-form and long-form, as well as articles and blogs. He is the author of three published novels, Dead Beckoning, The Devil You Knew, and its sequel You Will Know Me by My Deeds. His fourth novel, Muzzle the Black Dog, a novella, is scheduled for release in May 2025. He is also working on Kathleen, a fictionalized account of a cold case murder from 1970.

While he is comfortable playing across a broad range of topics, much of his focus is on true crime, crime fiction, and historical fiction. Rigorous research is foundational to his writing. He gets that honestly, having spent much of his professional career as a scientist.

A native of Atlanta, Mike splits his time between Midtown Atlanta and Blue Ridge, Georgia.

Catch Up With Mike Cobb:
www.MikeCobbWriter.com
Amazon Author Profile
Goodreads
BookBub - @cobbmg1
Instagram - @cobbmg
YouTube - @mikecobbwriter
X - @mgcobb
Facebook - @MGCobbWriter
LinkedIn - @mgcobb

 

 

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Visit these other great hosts on this tour for more great reviews, interviews, guest posts, and opportunities to WIN in the giveaway!

Click here to view the Tour Schedule

 

 

ENTER FOR A CHANCE TO WIN:

This is a giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Tours for Mike Cobb. See the widget for entry terms and conditions. Void where prohibited.

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Thursday, February 27, 2025

Book Blitz of Red Ultimatum by Ed Fuller And Gary Grossman (#Contests- Enter to win an amazon Gift Card)

Red Ultimatum
Edwin D. Fuller, Gary Grossman
(The Red Hotel, #4)
Publication date: February 25th 2025
Genres: Adult, Thriller

A former U.S. President’s plane is brought down in the Atlantic. Revolutionary forces attack Cairo. The U.S. Secretary of State is kidnapped in Panama. A North Korean ballistic missile submarine tracks toward America’s West Coast. A sleeper cell spy awakens in the halls of Congress. A woman assassin takes aim on the Washington Mall. Behind it all is Russian President Nicolai Gorshkov who has mastered the ability to walk between the raindrops and not get wet. Until… China determines that Gorshkov’s policies are endangering its global initiatives… until Beijing issues Gorshkov a defiant ultimatum… until Dan Reilly, hotel executive/CIA freelancer, and friend of the Secretary of State, reads the moves on the international political chessboard and picks up the pieces. The non-stop action plays out on Air, Land, and Sea. Yet, with so many geo-political threads being tugged simultaneously, will the Russian leader succeed getting another step closer to rebuilding the old Soviet Empire in his image? (https://redhotelseries.com/)

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Kobo

EXCERPT:

ATHENS, GREECE

“I saw you die!”

“You saw me fall off the building.”

“Yes, and you died! I saw it happen. The explosion from below. The fireball that swept up. Your last look. I’ve relived that moment every day since. Oh my God, Marnie, I was there. I saw it all.”

“And I’m here with you, Dan.” “You’re not. You can’t be.”

“I am and we can be together again.”

She reached out to him. Dan Reilly stepped back and stared. She was wearing the same dress, green blouse, and leather jacket she had worn that day in Stockholm; the day Marnie Babbitt returned to his hotel room seemingly regretful; wishing things were different; wanting to make them so.

“You loved me, Dan,” the brunette said softly. “You can love me again. Tonight. Here in Athens.”

Dan Reilly stopped retreating. Yes, he thought. Here. Athens.

He looked at the surroundings. Nighttime traffic was flowing along Adrianou Street. Horns honked. Couples walked arm-in-arm. Tourists window-shopped. Everything was normal until the woman he had desperately loved, the woman who had betrayed him stepped out of the shadows in front of him and into the light of a street lamp.

Dan Reilly had just concluded a successful business meeting at Kuzina, one of Athens ’most celebrated restaurants that boasted a magnificent view of The Temple of Hephaestus, the Agora, and the Acropolis. He had come to discuss the final terms for his company’s acquisition of a luxury hotel property currently owned by a Greek billionaire. It would take lawyers months to solidify the terms, but atop the restaurant’s Tarazza, with the golden glow of the Acropolis backlighting them, Reilly and the seller toasted to their relationship with a final glass of Ouzo.

It had been a good night for the International President of Kensington Royal Hotel Corporation. As he had walked along the cobblestones on Adrianou, Marnie Babbitt was not on his mind, but suddenly she was there alive and vibrant as ever. Her beauty took his breath away. Her voice was as soft and lilting as the last whispers in his ear.

Or the last lies, he thought.

“No lies, Dan,” she said as if reading his mind. “This time it will be different.”

At first, Reilly had felt immobile. Then he was drawn to her.

She reached out to him and stroked his cheek. Her touch was as present as ever. The light gave her an almost ethereal glow. She looked longingly into his eyes and proved she was alive with a lingering, deep kiss. Then she said, “Is that the kiss of a dead woman?”

Her tongue, her scent, and her breath were just as he remembered.

Just as he missed. So was the quickening of his heartbeat.

He withdrew and looked into her brown eyes. They were so bright and inviting.

“You missed me. I know you did.” She smiled and took a step back into the shadows. “Come with, Dan.”

The sounds of the city faded away. Gone were the car horns and sirens, people talking, dogs barking, car doors slamming, and footsteps on the sidewalk. Everything around him blurred. There was just Marnie and him. He felt his desire for her grow. Then he thought of Yibing Cheng, the woman now in his life.

“But—”

“It’s all right my darling. I know that there’s someone else. But I’m back. You want me.”

More thoughts from his head. How did she know? “You want us to be together again.”

“Marnie, I saw…

“You saw what we wanted you to see.”

She leaned forward and kissed him again. She felt him. He responded. “Now I’m here. To be with you.”

He withdrew.

“Don’t you want that, Dan? Don’t you want me?” “Marnie…”

“Yes.”

“Marnie,” he said again. “Yes, my love.”

“But you’re—”

She suddenly laughed. Her brown eyes went black.

Maybe it was the Ouzo, but all he initially felt was a prick in his stomach. Then he looked down. There was the hand that he had loved caressing. But now it held the black handle of a Russian Kizlyar Spetsnaz Special Forces knife.

He brought his eyes up to hers. She smiled cruelly, waited a moment, and then twisted the 6.5-inch blade and sliced upwards.

Reilly tried to speak. He couldn’t. He felt his legs crumble, but Marnie Babbitt’s grip on the knife kept him on his feet. She twisted again.

“Why?” Reilly silently gurgled.

“Because this is the way it should have ended.”

Marnie’s words confused him. He grabbed her hand with his. Blood soaked them both.

Should have ended?

Reilly tried to pull out the knife, but she was stronger. Life began to leave him.

With a sickly sweet laugh, she repeated, “This is the way it should have ended. You, not me.”

Should…have…ended. The words were familiar. He’d heard them before. Many times before.

“No!” Reilly shouted in full-throated defiance. “This is not how it should end! And…you…are… dead!”

“What?”

“You’re dead,” he shouted. “You’re dead!” “No, Dan. No! It’s all right.”

He was shaking violently. “Dan!”

Dan Reilly bolted upright. He automatically grabbed his stomach. It was wet, but from sweat, not blood. And the woman whose concerned voice was cutting through his dream belonged to Yibing Cheng.

“Dan, Dan, it’s okay. You’re here with me. Yibing.”

Reilly slowly collected his thoughts. Yibing turned on a night light and faced the man she’d been seeing for just a few months. They were in Athens, but he was not on the street bleeding. But he had had nights like this—in Paris, Washington, and where Reilly and Yibing had first met, Beijing.

“Your dream again?” she asked. He gathered his thoughts.

“Yes, except this time it was here. Outside our restaurant last night.

The street—”

“I’m so sorry,” Yibing said pulling him close to her naked body.

What did she do?”

“At least she didn’t throw me into a woodchipper this time,” Reilly replied lightly. “No plastic bag over my head. No fall from a cliff.” He rubbed his gut. “But she was pretty good with a knife, even for a dream.”

Reilly knew what was going on. Shrinks might call it PTSD. He saw it more as a combination of guilt over the fact that he failed to recognize Marnie Babbitt was a Russian plant and guilt that he couldn’t save her the moment he realized she wanted out. It was all manifesting itself in very vivid revenge dreams. But it was not paranoia.

There was more that wasn’t in his dream world. Dan Reilly had seen drones out his window after he and Yibing had returned from Beijing. He’d spotted people following them. And they were not his people. Not Yibing’s either.

For now, he viewed the tails and eavesdropping as intimidation. Russian or possibly Chinese. But it could get worse. It likely would get worse and not because he was an international hotel executive. It was his moonlighting. Dan Reilly had deep ties with officers at the CIA and even deeper ties with the United States Secretary of State.


Author Bio:

ED FULLER is CEO of Laguna Strategic Advisors, a global consortium providing business consulting services worldwide. He has served on business and charitable boards during his 40-year career with Marriott International where he was chief marketing officer followed by 22 years as president and managing director of Marriott International. Under his management, the international division grew from 16 to 550 hotels in 73 countries with 80,000 associates and sales of $8 billion. Upon retirement, Fuller has served on five university boards and taught as adjunct professor for MBA and undergraduate students. He blogged for Forbes and other tourism and lodging industry media. His book, You Can’t Lead with Your Feet on the Desk, has been printed in English, Japanese and Chinese. Fuller served as captain in the U.S. Army, stationed in Germany and Vietnam and received the Bronze Star and the Army Commendation medals. He and Gary Grossman are co-authors of the Red Hotel series, including the 2018 thriller Red Hotel and the 2021 release, Red Deception, soon to be followed by Red Chaos.

Gary Grossman is author of the bestselling political thrillers EXECUTIVE ACTIONS,EXECUTIVE TREASON, EXECUTIVE COMMAND, and EXECUTIVE FORCE; a geological thriller that spans 4 billions years, OLD EARTH; and with co-author Ed Fuller, RED HOTEL, RED CHAOS, and RED DECEPTION. Grossman has also written two acclaimed non-fiction books covering pop culture and television history: SUPERMAN: SERIAL TO CEREAL and SATURDAY MORNING TV.

He is an Emmy Award-winning network television producer, a print and television journalist, a novelist and a film and TV historian. His career has included stints producing for NBC News, CNN, ABC, CBS, NBC, Fox, PBS and 40 cable networks.

Grossman has produced more than 10,000 series episodes and specials through his TV production company Weller/Grossman Productions, and earned numerous awards including the prestigious Governor's Emmy Award for a USA Network production and an Emmy for Best Informational series with the production of "Wolfgang Puck" for Food Network. Their documentary "Beyond the Da Vinci Code" (History Channel) earned two national Emmy nominations. In all, Grossman has received 14 Emmy nominations.

Grossman earned a Bachelors Degree in Communications from Emerson College in Boston and a Master's Degree in Urban Affairs from Boston University.

He began his broadcasting career as a rock disc jockey at WHUC, in Hudson, New York. He worked at Boston television station, WBZ; joined The Boston Globe as a special contributor, and then became the television critic and media columnist at The Boston Herald American. His freelance articles have appeared in The New York Times and numerous magazines. He taught journalism and media at Emerson College, Boston University, USC and now Loyola Marymount University's Graduate School of Film and Television.

Grossman helped formulate, program and launch television cable networks including HGTV, National Geographic Channel, and The Africa Channel.

Grossman has served on the Emerson College Board of Trustees where he chaired the Academic Affairs Committee. He is also a member of the Boston University Metropolitan College Advisory Board. For four years he was chair of the Government Affairs Committee for the Caucus for Television Producers, Directors & Writers, a Hollywood-based media activist group. He is member of The International Thriller Writers Association.


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Friday, February 14, 2025

Interview of Ken Harris Author of The Ballad of The Great Value Boys(#contests- Enter to win AN AMAZON Gift Card)

The Ballad of the Great Value Boys by Ken Harris Banner

THE BALLAD OF THE GREAT VALUE BOYS

by Ken Harris

February 10 - March 7, 2025 Virtual Book Tour

Synopsis:

The Ballad of the Great Value Boys by Ken Harris

FROM THE CASE FILES OF STEVE ROCKFISH

 

Private Investigators Steve Rockfish and Jawnie McGee's loyalty is tested when they are called upon to rescue a friend whose plan to grift a local Militia goes awry. The ruse rebrands expiring MREs as Q-Rations, focuses on fear, and targets those with an anti-government mindset.

Rockfish and McGee arrive in the dilapidated steel town of Grindsville and are quick to realize the Penn Forest Patriots are more than weekend LARPers. The partner's investigation uncovers a devious plot to light the fuse on a series of domestic terrorism events and throw the country into chaos.

The lack of a timely response by Federal Law Enforcement swiftly constitutes an emergency on Rockfish and McGee’s part. The plot forces them to empty their analytical and investigative skill sets across two states in an attempt to mitigate the threat. Can they prevent the terror cell from igniting the next insurrection and running out the clock on America’s democracy?

Praise for The Ballad of the Great Value Boys:

"Steve Rockfish is back and kicking militia ass. In fact, the whole crew is back, busting balls as they solve crimes and track down the bad guys. The wisecracks fly fast and furious. So do the twists and turns. The bad guys are badder, the danger more dangerous, and every character as endearing as they are dysfunctional. I couldn't turn the pages fast enough."
~ Haris Orkin, award-winning author of The James Flynn Escapades

"Prepare for twists, turns, and more than a few laugh-out loud moments in this rollercoaster of a thriller that pits wise-cracking private investigator Steve Rockfish and his band of unlikely cohorts against a right-wing extremist militia group with a dangerous agenda."
~ Patti Liszkay, author of The Equal and Opposite Reactions Trilogy

"Great gobs of serious yet hilarious crime-solving by Steve and Jawnie, along with their cast of friends ranging from dependable to what-the-hell-now crazy. Absolutely a fun ride! But I warn you, you'll want to read the entire series tonight."
~ Val Conrad, author of The Julie Madigan Thriller Series

Book Details:

Genre: Crime Fiction
Published by: Black Rose Writing
Publication Date: February 6, 2025
Number of Pages: 350
ISBN: 9781685135539 (ISBN10: 1685135536)
Series: From the Case Files of Steve Rockfish series, Book 4
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | Black Rose Writing

INTERVIEW  

Can you tell us when you started writing?

 

In the early 2000s I was a member of a large message board with many creative-types and began writing short stories. I only posted those to my personal blog. In 2010, I began taking online classes at Chuck Palahniuk’s LitReactor.com. One course instructed how to self-publish. Over the course of the next three plus years I wrote two novellas and two novels which were self-published to amazon. Writer’s block hit between 2014 and 2017 before I broke through. I completed a novel; I swore to only traditionally publish. Shocker, I failed miserably. My mind went to a pretty dark place and didn’t write again until the summer of the Pandemic. While enjoying retirement, I came up with the premise of “From the Case Files of Steve Rockfish” crime fiction series. I again promised to only traditionally publish The Pine Barrens Stratagem and I was lucky to be accepted by Black Rose Writing. I’m proud to say I now have a four-book series under my belt with a fifth in draft. 

 

 

Can you tell me who or what the inspiration for the book was?

 

I enjoy including world and current events into my stories. I feel people relate more if they’re aware of a situation and it isn’t something totally fabricated. I began writing “The Ballad of the Great Value Boys” after reading a few news articles regarding local militias becoming popular in rural and suburban areas before and soon after January 6th. They seemed the perfect bad guys with a cause to clash against my protagonists, Steve Rockfish and Jawnie McGee. When I came up with the idea of a friend of Rockfish’s relabeling expired military MREs as Q-Rations in order to make a buck on conspiracy theorists, I had a premise I could work with. 

 

 

Can you tell us how you came up with your title?

 

The Ballad of the Great Value Boys. They are my antagonists. In my eyes, you could sum them up as Proud Boys Light. Local militias are mocked on the internet as the Gravy Seals or Meal Team Six due to the physiques of most members. I had already come up with an official name for this group, The Penn Forest Patriots, but needed a snide nickname Steve Rockfish could use. He’s good at that. I stream my daily writing sessions on Twitch and one day while lamenting my naming issue, a friend in chat suggested The Great Value Boys. He implied my group was the Walmart version of the Proud Boys.

 

 

Can you tell us a little about your main characters?

 

My protagonists, aside from being investigative partners, are complete polar opposites. Steve Rockfish is a mix of all the 1970s television gumshoes I watched. He’s old school when it comes to his actions. Rockfish is very sarcastic with a dry sense of humor and somewhat of a boozer. Jawnie McGee is a late-twentysomething African American gay woman with a knack for technology and a completely different look at problem solving than Rockfish. Their relationship and respect for the other grows throughout the series. One of the things I’m most proud of is when a reader reaches out and highlights their growth. 

 

Do you ever suffer from writer’s block? If so, what do you do about it?

 

I’ve suffered short bouts lasting a couple of months and longer periods stretching as far as between three and four years. I keep plugging and don’t force anything. When it comes, it will. Currently, I’m trying to complete up a short story, The Butterfly Stroke Effect, for the Mysteries to Die For Season 8 Anthology which is due on March 1st. When I hit the three-quarters mark I couldn’t come up with an ending. So, I set it aside and began a total re-write of my fifth Steve Rockfish novel. It is funny because previously, I had put the novel aside as I was struggling to write and began the short story. Now I’m in the complete opposite scenario. 

 

 

Where is this book set, and why did you choose that setting?

 

The book is set in the fictional rural town of Grindsville, Pennsylvania. It is a mix of two towns I lived near in in central Pennsylvania. Grindsville is a dying steel mill town with an aging population and not much to offer the younger generations. I chose the setting because I was familiar with the area and it wouldn’t be a stretch for a local militia to exist there with big extremist dreams. 

 

 

What’s next on your writing to-do list?

 

I’m currently double fisting. I need to finish my short story, The Butterfly Stroke Effect, and submit it by March 1st. As I type this answer, I am also 30,000 words into The Weight of Regret: From the Case Files of Steve Rockfish – 5. 

 

 

Can you tell me about your experiences finding a publisher for the book?


As mentioned earlier, in 2017 I had written, A Cold Case of Old Timers. I had it professionally edited and had help to help craft my query letter and summary. I pinpointed exactly who I wanted to query, agents and publishers who had recently represented or contracted with a book very much like mine. Out of all my queries, I received one positive response asking for the first fifty pages. I never heard back. Cue three years of writer’s block. 

 

In 2021 for The Pine Barrens Stratagem, my first Rockfish novel, I followed the same tact. But this time, my only response came from Black Rose Writing. A month after a full manuscript submission, I received a contract. I will say now, that had I struck out with that book, I’m not sure I would have picked up a pencil again. I probably would have sat back down on the couch and fully enjoyed retirement. But crossing off traditionally published author off my bucket list was a great moment. One I’d wanted to do for almost thirty-five years. 

 

 

If you were going to hang out with one of your characters, who would that be?

 

Steve Rockfish. We both have a penchant for Irish whiskey and with our jobs, would have stories to tell for days. 

 

  

What do you like to do for fun when you’re not writing?

 

I play Walkabout Mini Golf on my Oculus VR headset. My kids have moved out but it allows us to catch up as if we were in the same room while playing a fun golf game. I have recently gotten back into actual real-life golf and eagerly await warmer weather. Additionally, as I currently live on the water, I video my cold plunge off my dock each morning in an attempt to create a buzz around the series.


Read an excerpt:

You've reached Rockfish & McGee, Investigative Specialists. At the tone, leave your name and message. Someone will get back to you at our earliest convenience. [Beep]

"Steve, why don't you ever answer your cell? I'm in deep shit here and you are my one call. Grindsville. Somewhere in Pennsylvania, heading west. The locals have me locked up on a trumped-up charge. You gotta believe me, Steve. I didn't do a damn thing..."

The partners stood around Lynn's desk and listened to the voicemail, left the previous evening. Their administrative assistant had heard Raffi's plea for help first, and immediately reached out to Rockfish and Jawnie to advise of a friend of the office's predicament.

"I'm guessing you didn't pick up his call yesterday?" Jawnie said, with a perturbed look on her face.

"Would you want to talk to Raffi every time he calls?" Rockfish said, raising his own eyebrows. "Plus, I didn't know it was him. The notification came up, Unknown Caller, and I forwarded it to the office line. I assumed it was spam, figured we'd listen and handle it on Monday. And well, here we are. Plus, I didn't want to mute the television. It was that new Marvel movie, Hawkgirl Takes Topeka."

"DC Universe, but I totally get where you're coming from," Jawnie said with a grin. "Too bad it wasn't a scammer halfway around the world calling regarding our Medicare benefits."

"If I was his only call, then he's expecting me to come up there and bail him out. Where the hell is Grindsville, anyway?"

"Central Pennsylvania, Boss," Lynn said. She glanced up from her computer at Jawnie and Rockfish, standing on the other side. "Two hours east of Pittsburgh. What do you think he did?"

"You heard as much of that rambling message as I did. Lord knows what type of scheme he had in mind and was trying to run on the rural bumpkins," Rockfish said. He stepped back into the office's bullpen area before slumping into his favorite recliner. This is the last damn thing I need today. The Andrist case keeps raising its ugly head and I don't have the time to handle two problem children at once. Where is my morning coffee?

"Steve, you know as well as I do Raffi's voicemail changes with each money-making opportunity," Jawnie said. He hadn't noticed she followed him and had taken up her normal seat on the couch, laptop open and at the ready. "Might as well dial and listen. It might give you a leg up on what you're facing in Grindsville. Assuming you're going and someone powered down his phone. It's probably in an evidence storage locker. The call should go straight to voicemail. If you're considering following up on this."

"You know as well as I do, I can't leave him hanging," Rockfish said. "Google says it's anywhere between three and four hours to get there as the Lana flies. If I can get out of here before noon, I might have him sprung before dinner." He shifted his body in the chair and turned toward Lynn's desk. "Lynn, let's hear it."

"Speed dial four on speaker. Gimme a sec."

Rockfish and Jawnie got up and stood around Lynn's desk. They both leaned across and listened as the number rang once and rolled over to voicemail.

"Hello, you've reached the desk of Raphael PĂ©rez, President of Patriot Meals on American Made Wheels. Please visit our website, www.Q-Rations.biz for orders and to view our FAQ. Please leave a message and a true patriot will get back to you shortly. God Bless."

"He's catering to the insurrectionists, isn't he?" Jawnie said. The concern in her face was clear, and Rockfish wasn't sure how to answer. He chose his words carefully. Raffi was a friend.

What am I going to tell her she already doesn't know? The guy will do practically anything to make a buck, no matter the gray area involved. Social, political or moral issue be damned. That's Raffi.

"Jawnie, we've all got parts of us that aren't the most desirable. Hell, look at me. Who the fuck in their right mind would want to be associated with me?"

"Are you implying I'm not in my right mind?"

"Yeah, me too," Lynn said. "Shots fired, Steve."

Rockfish walked back to his chair and stood behind it, elbows resting on the back. "That's damn well not what I meant, and you both know it."

Both women cracked smiles, and Rockfish relaxed for a minute before continuing.

"We all know he straddles that line, but I've known him longer than either of you two. The man's in it for the money. Nothing more, nothing less. Let me go figure out what kind of mess he's gotten himself into and we can revisit adjusting his moral compass when I get back."

Rockfish poured himself a cup of coffee. I'll need more than this tonight after I sweet-talk his ass out of jail. Might as well stop at the liquor store before making the drive. Hotel bar drinks are on the expensive side. Shop for a happy ending and will it into existence.

"I'm headed back to my office. Try to figure out my next couple of moves and exactly what he was doing up in the middle of nowhere." He turned and walked down the short hallway to his private office.

Once out of the sight of prying eyes, Rockfish finished constructing his homemade Irish coffee and turned on his monitor. I need to figure this mess out. The sooner the better. Patriot Meals on American Wheels and something about rations. Since the Porbeagle case, Raffi usually focused his semi-legitimate business opportunities on the bumpkins he felt he could run circles around intelligence-wise. Especially should any part of his half-assed plans go sideways. Only makes sense he zeroed on those who continue to celebrate January 6th. Best to start researching with his website and gather what I can.

Rockfish picked up his desk phone and dialed Raffi's cell again. He jotted down the URL on a pink Post-it and stuck it to the bottom of his monitor. I need to talk to Lynn. We need good old-fashioned yellow ones. At least for me.

His fingers tapped out the web address and Rockfish paused as his pinky hovered over the return key. Do I really want to know? Can't I drive up there with a credit card and pay the fine or whatever percentage of his bail the bondsman requires? You should know this already. The less you know about the man's shenanigans, the better. No chance of being sucked into the Raffi vortex.

Curiosity won out and the Q-Rations.biz website filled the screen.

In the years since Jawnie had arrived on scene, Rockfish now had more experience with the Information Super Highway. While he wasn't on her level, even he had to question the design of Raffi's cracker-jack website. Looks like a site a middle school kid made in 1998. I can almost hear the dial-up modem noise.

The top of the page read Q-Rations against a black background, the letters alternating between red, white, and blue. The image flickered every couple of seconds. How many patriots had visited the site with full intentions to buy this shit but suffered a seizure before navigating to their shopping cart? Under the image was the slogan from the voicemail, Patriot Meals on American Made Wheels. What really caught Rockfish's attention was the picture directly to the right of the bit of jingoism. Raffi stood at attention, dressed in what Rockfish thought was George C. Scott's uniform from the opening scene in Patton. His right hand cocked and saluting.

The set of balls on this guy, but give him credit, he knows his audience. Pander to them until they open their wallets and then turn the grift up a few more notches.

The rest of the site's front page laid out a story full of fear mongering and catered to the benefits of hoarding Q-Rations. Each meal would be priceless once Hillary Clinton, the newly appointed Biden Gun-Czar, came a knocking on your door. Think the supply chain is fucked six ways to Sunday now? Wait until George Soros declares martial law. Repackaged MREs? How did he come up with this idea? Rockfish imagined the interest and rising demand. He wondered where Raffi would or had gotten his supply from. He ain't cooking and packaging this shit in the basement of his townhome.

The rest of the page detailed the different options of Q-Rations available for purchase, but Rockfish had seen and read enough. He moved his mouse over to the top of the browser and printed the page, before hollering down the hallway to where Lynn and Jawnie continued to talk.

"Lynn, can you use that webcrawly thing and download me a copy of Raffi's entire website?" Rockfish said. "Chuck it on a USB along with the prison voicemail, and I'll take it with me. I'm not sure what kind of internet I'll have out in the mountains of West Central Pennsylvania."

"Gotcha, Boss. I'm on it," Lynn said.

"You're a lifesaver." Rockfish smiled to himself and heard a light knock. He glanced up to see Jawnie standing in the open doorway.

"You're going this alone? There's something to be said about going lone wolf in that area of the country, if you know what I mean. Plus, I don't have the time to find a good-looking shot for when the milk container people call for your missing person picture."

"I get it, but he's my friend, and occasional support to this office," Rockfish said with a shrug. "Listen, I'll run up there, grab a hotel, pay his fine and come back with him riding shotgun in the morning. Worst case, it's bail money instead of a fine, but at least he'll be back on the street and owe me one."

Jawnie shifted her weight from one leg to the other and leaned against the door frame with her arms crossed. Rockfish understood his reasoning, hadn't fully sold his partner on the trip. In fact, Rockfish had lost count of exactly how many favors Raffi currently owed him.

"I can see you still don't think it's a grand plan. But if you come, who's going to stay here and handle Andrist? I mean, I love he keeps hiring us, but that man is a handful and I can't, in good faith, ask Lynn to deal with him on an almost daily basis." Rockfish saw this line of reasoning was an easier sell by Jawnie's nod and expression.

"He is our best client at the moment," Jawnie said. "Best paying, too."

"Coddle him. Hold his meetings at arm's length. Do whatever you need. I'll be back before noon tomorrow and be on my phone at all times," Rockfish said. He stood up and grabbed his messenger bag and laptop.

"You're leaving right this instant?"

"Yeah, I need to swing by Bass Pro Shops and pick up a few camo shirts, knit hat and a jacket. It'll be pretty cold up there and I'll blend in better. In small towns like this, the natives are restless. Just tryin' to prevent any kind of run-in."

"Better grab one of Mack's old trucker hats and by all means, don't shave," Jawnie said and stepped back out of the doorway.

Rockfish paused and held out his fist and Jawnie bumped it. He picked up the USB from Lynn on his way out the door and auto-started Lana before stepping out into the February cold.

***

Excerpt from The Ballad of the Great Value Boys by Ken Harris. Copyright 2025 by Ken Harris. Reproduced with permission from Ken Harris. All rights reserved.

 

Don't Miss The Other Case Files of Steve Rockfish

The Pine Barrens Stratagem by Ken Harris
See You Next Tuesday by Ken Harris
A Bad Bout of the Yips by Ken Harris
Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads
Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads
Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads

Author Bio:

Ken Harris

Ken Harris retired from the FBI, after thirty-two years, as a cybersecurity executive. With over three decades writing intelligence products for senior Government officials, Ken provides unique perspectives on the conventional fast-paced crime thriller. He is the author of the “From the Case Files of Steve Rockfish” series. He spends days with his wife Nicolita, and two Labradors, Shady and Chalupa Batman. Evenings are spent playing Walkabout Mini Golf and cheering on Philadelphia sports. Ken firmly believes Pink Floyd, Irish whiskey and a Montecristo cigar are the only muses necessary. He is a native of New Jersey and currently resides in Virginia’s Northern Neck.

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