Showing posts with label suspense. Show all posts
Showing posts with label suspense. Show all posts

Monday, October 15, 2018

"Malevolent" by S. Peters-Davis

GUEST POST and GIVEAWAY
Malevolent
(A Kendra Spark Novel Book 2)
by S. Peters-Davis

Malevolent (A Kendra Spark Novel Book 2) by S. Peters-Davis

Malevolent is the second Kendra Spark Novel by S. Peters-Davis. Also available: Unorthodox (read my blog post).

Unorthodox by S. Peters-Davis

Malevolent is currently on tour with Bewitching Book Tours. The tour stops here today for a guest post by the author, an excerpt and a giveaway. Please be sure to visit the other tour stops as well.


Description
Kendra Spark, suspense-mystery writer and communicator with the dead, signs on to the next FBI Special Task Force case, trafficked girls that are marked to lose their souls.
Jenna Powers, ghostified criminal analyst, sticks close to the case as she and Kendra are also marked by the same malevolent supernatural force.
Derek Knight, lead FBI Agent on this case, learns of the malevolent entity and the deeper paranormal realm of danger.
Kendra’s unfiltered feelings for Derek struggle to take a backseat, and as the menacing threat grows more intense, so does her passion for Derek.
Derek faces uncertainties he’s never dealt with in his past, like malicious entities and the loss of his heart to love. How can he protect Kendra against forces he can’t see?
As boundless supernatural danger intertwines with the future reality of the trafficked teens, Kendra and Jenna realize only they can shoulder the rescue by calling in a voodoo priestess …

Excerpt
I expected Derek to grab the suitcase. Instead, his arms wrapped around my waist. His spicy-wood scent filled the air around me as he drew my body into his. I rose on my toes to meet his gaze, and his lips gently touched mine, turning into a crush of passion that sent sparks of pleasure to every part of me. His moan slipped between my lips followed by the tip of his tongue. A tremor quaked downward, to the bottom of my belly, his lips trembled as our breaths meshed.
Vanilla sweetened the air, indicating Jenna was back. “Good grief, Sparky. You’re steaming up the windows.”
I opened my eyes. Jenna stood beside us. With a regretful groan and shaken with emotions, I pressed my palms to Derek’s chest to gain some distance. A distance I should have been compelled to follow for a working relationship. Our kiss hinted at something greater, and I wasn’t ready to dive that deep. At least, not yet. “Jenna thinks we’re steaming up the windows.”
Derek sighed. “Jenna, your timing is impeccable. Or, rather it stinks.” He looked around the room as if attempting to hone in on where she might be standing. Our communication improved ten-fold with Derek’s knowledge and acceptance of Jenna’s spirit still being earthbound.
I pointed. “She’s beside you.”
He shook his head, face flushed, as he took a deep man-breath. “I’ll get this loaded in the car while you finish packing your carry-on.” He lifted the suitcase off the bed and instead of allowing it to roll on its wheels, he carried it outside.
I looked at Jenna. “We’re headed back to D.C. Two dead Hispanic girls were found on a North Carolina beach, one washed up two weeks ago and another this morning. FBI task force called in to investigate. They believe it’s related to the container truck of girls found on Friday…or was that Saturday?” 
“I know Merretti has something to do with this.  Let’s go prove it.” Jenna sashayed to the bedroom window facing the roadside of the house, where Derek loaded the suitcase. “Told you he’d get animated if you kissed him. You two are sexy together, you know that?” Her belly laugh echoed in the room, even after she shimmered out of sight. Hearing her after she’d disappeared was a new ability, something to ask her about.
I shuffled through my carry-on, discarded a few things I didn’t need and added new items I might want. Not knowing the length of time I’d be staying in D.C. made packing a bit difficult, plus the fact I needed to include my laptop and notebooks for novel writing. I committed to a new series of books and the first one was due the end of August, but the publicist wanted the cover and blurb at least a month earlier. Not an easy feat when I hadn’t even started character sketches or plotting.
“Is this it then?” Derek slung the strap of the laptop storage bag over his shoulder, along with my carry-on. “Is Jenna still here?”
“No, she’s gone.” I looked around, thinking of anything I might have missed, but my mind kept skittering between Derek, the new case, Jenna, and my writing commitments.
Derek’s brows drew inward as he eyed my face. “You haven’t caught up on your sleep, have you?” He grabbed my upper arm to lead me along.
“Not really. Have you?” I clicked off lights and locked the lakeside door as we made our way out the driveway entry. His fingers remained around my arm as he guided me to the SUV, reminding me of all the times we were together in D.C. and North Carolina.
He opened the passenger door. “I’ve slept, but probably not enough. Climb in while I set this in the back.”
I settled in the seat and sent a quick text off to Denise and Lexi, telling them I was leaving and not sure when I’d be back. I asked if they would mind doing what they did last week for me. I sent another one off to Sharon, my writing accountability partner. I’d sent her the details of my contract with Knixton, so she had a good idea of how pinched for time I would be if this case took too long.
Derek started the vehicle and headed toward the main road. “We’re booked on a flight to D.C. There may be a few other agents on the plane, not more than ten people, so you should be able to catch a couple hours of sleep.”
Like I would get any sleep with Derek sitting next to me. Being near him seemed more of a challenge, deflecting his magnetic draw. I wondered if being away from him had something to do with it like absence makes the heart grow fonder.
[Want more? Click below to read a longer excerpt.]


Praise for the Book
“Love the spunky, psychic novelist! Murder, spiritual intuition, and romance bound this captivating, little tale. This was definitely an interesting case of a soul-stealing, malevolent force trafficking children.” ~ Sandra’s Book Reviews
“S. Peters Davis shows her writing talent by keeping her reader engaged and even though this is the second in the series you could read it first and not feel lost. You will want to follow this author and read everything she has to offer.” ~ Sharon

Guest Post (a Halloween short story by S. Peters-Davis)
All Hallows’ Eve Silent Night
“I gotta make a quick trip to the restroom. Can I use the flashlight?” I asked, glancing at Rory as he tilted his head. “Oops.” We’d made a pact not to talk, experience the night of stargazing with each other in silence.
Rory handed me the flashlight. “Remember, no talking when you come out. Sasha?”
“Got it.” I nodded, grabbed the flashlight, and then rushed into the dimly lit park restroom. Rory and I had come to the Haggerset Lake Park for the last four years to stargaze on Halloween night, ever since we’d graduated high school. We loved our creep-night, the one night we dropped whatever we were doing and wherever we were to come back to each other on this one night.
A rustle outside, like something heavy falling on the ground, startled me. I hurried with my business and ran out to check on Rory. He stood waiting for me. I slid the light beam his way, and he smiled, pointing toward the ground.
I didn’t say a word at the blanket and cooler strewn over the dewy grass, assuming he’d tripped over something. We both picked up the stuff and headed down the hill away from the tree line to the beach by the lake. The perfect place to lay for an open view of the star-ridden sky.
We spread the blanket and sat. I dropped the flashlight on the blanket, and then pulled the wine and glasses from the cooler. Rory grabbed my hand so I looked at him. He shook his head. I set the bottle next to me, thinking we’d open it later.
He stretched out on the blanket and patted the spot next to him. The moon cast enough light to see his shadowed face and body. I bent down, knees on the blanket, and then flipped to my backside, sliding close to him. His hand found mine and our fingers intertwined.
A spike of electricity charged through me, like what always happened when Rory touched me. I missed him during the long months we’d attended separate colleges, and this would be our last semester apart.
His breath sucked in as he pointed upward. A falling star streaked across the sky.
I gasped, but remained silent as per our pact. An owl hooted in a tree on top of the hill. Crickets set a rhythm, adding to the croaking bull frogs all around us. I adored the sounds and smells of the night, just like Rory had admitted the first time we’d done this.
He squeezed my fingers, raised my hand to his warm moist lips, and kissed my palm. His tongue slithered up and down my wrist, making me giggle. Then his lips attached to my skin and he sucked. My whole insides melted and fluttered at the same time. I panted, wanting more.
His body flipped over mine, his moist lips kissing, nipping, and sucking over my neck. Every cell in my body responded, zinging sparks spiked through my veins. His tongue slathered my skin. My eyelids closed on automatic.
“Sasha!” Rory? His voice came from on top of the hill.
I opened my eyes wide and pushed against the body on top of me. He sat on top of me and covered my mouth with his hand, his other hand held both of mine above my head. The skin on his face shimmered and blurred. He leaned over me, close to my face. A thin forked tongue slithered from his mouth, licking my face.
“Sasha, are you there?” Rory shouted again from a distance.
I bucked, but to no avail. The thing’s skin turned to scales, his eyes…glowed amber, their pupils narrowed into slits like a snake. Fins grew along his forearms.
I fought, hard, struggling to free a hand and bucking to throw him off. My hand came free and I reached for the wine bottle.
Footfalls pounded down the hill, the monster glanced up. I wrapped my fingers around the neck of the wine bottle and swung. The monster’s head snapped sideways and his body fell from on top of me.
Rory stood over us. “My gods, what the hell is that thing? It attacked me and I woke up in the middle of the woods, afraid of what that thing had done to you.” He gave me a hand up. 
A rancid odor burst through the air and the creature’s body sizzled, like brats on a grill.
We stepped back as it turned into bright embers and then dust. Rory pulled me into his arms as the night breeze carried the smoky particles over the water.
“That thing looked just like you. It licked me.” I yanked the bottom of my T-shirt up to wipe my face and neck.
“You couldn’t tell that thing wasn’t me?”
“It never kissed me on the lips.” And I couldn’t help but wonder what it had planned on doing with me. “What do you think its end game was with me?”
Rory took a knee and extracted a small box from his shirt pocket. “Not this.” He turned so the moonlight shone on the box and then flipped it open. A diamond sparkled. His gaze melded into mine as he asked, “Sasha, monster-slayer of All Hallow’s Eve, will you marry me?” He grinned, and then added, “Before some scary creature sweeps you off your feet?”

About the Author
S. Peters-Davis
S. Peters-Davis writes multi-genre stories but loves penning a good page-turning suspense-thriller, especially when it’s a ghost story and a romance. When she’s not writing, editing, or reading, she’s hiking, RVing, fishing, playing with grandchildren, or enjoying time with her favorite muse (her husband) in Southwest Michigan.
She also writes YA paranormal, supernatural novels as DK Davis.





Giveaway
Enter the Bewitching Book Tour’s Haunted Halloween Spooktacular for a chance to win some amazing prizes.


Links

Wednesday, October 10, 2018

"Casino Girl" by Leslie Wolfe

EXCERPT and GIVEAWAY
Casino Girl
(Baxter and Holt Book 2)
by Leslie Wolfe

Casino Girl (Baxter and Holt Book 2) by Leslie Wolfe

Casino Girl is the second book in the Baxter and Holt series by Leslie Wolfe. Get your copy today for only $0.99. Also available: Las Vegas Girl and Las Vegas Crime (pre-order now, releases 16 November).

Las Vegas Girl by Leslie WolfeLas Vegas Crime by Leslie Wolfe


Casino Girl is currently on tour with Silver Dagger Book Tours. The tour stops here today for an excerpt and a giveaway. Please be sure to visit the other tour stops as well.


Description
In Las Vegas, secrets are deadly.
Detectives Laura Baxter and Jack Holt are members of the elite: Las Vegas Metro PD, one of the toughest and most respected law enforcement agencies in the United States. In the middle of a city with two million residents and 43 million annual visitors, they’re hunting for a killer.
The girl
When a beautiful, young girl is killed in the high-roller Pleasure Pit of the exclusive Scala Casino, the news reverberates for hours among the ritzy clientele. Before taking the stage where she found her death, Crystal was last seen boarding an unmarked helicopter for a late-night flight to an unknown destination.
The money
The stakes are high at the roulette table, and the players are hot-blooded. Among them, a stone-cold killer watches, waits, and kills without leaving a single trace of evidence. Rien ne va plus but death.
The game
The name of the game is murder, and it doesn’t stop with Crystal’s demise. Anyone who threatens to expose the killer’s identity will soon find they’re being targeted.
In Las Vegas, secrets can kill.
Two mavericks make an intriguing team. Baxter and Holt trust each other with their lives, only not with their darkest secrets.


Excerpt
1
Odds
They’re called quasi-strippers.
They don’t really bare it all, like real strippers do behind the darkened glass doors of specialty adult clubs, but they aren’t exactly fully dressed either while they perform.
Crystal preferred the term exotic dancer. Five nights a week she took the small stage at the center of the high-limit blackjack tables, in the glamorous Scala Casino. Five nights a week she danced and smiled and undulated her perfect body to the rhythm of sultry songs, carefully chosen to lure the gamblers’ attention away from the cards and the ever-diminishing stacks of their chips. In the background, nothing is more Vegas than the Scala Casino floor, filled with a million noises, dazzling lights, and excess adrenaline. Nothing is more alive.
That’s where she belonged, among the glitter and the gold, the glitzy and the rich.
She wore strappy lingerie with black and gold lace accents on beige silk, designed to trick the mind’s eye into believing she was naked. Black, knee-high stiletto boots completed her attire, her black, garter-belt straps attached to them, sexy and kinky and fun. The appreciative looks she basked in that night told her she’d chosen her ensemble well. It was going to be a profitable evening.
The familiar music seemed a bit too loud, making her wince, a little dizzy. She grabbed the pole tighter, aware she was dancing out of rhythm, but knowing the customers were too far gone to notice. It was almost four in the morning, and by that time, most of them were pleasantly inebriated, high on their own excitement and maybe more, living the Vegas dream.
The only danger was that asshole, Farley, a fat, lewd pig who liked to scream at the girls, giving them a hard time for everything they did, right or wrong regardless. Two minutes of being late or changing clothes mid-shift and she’d get pulled inside the pit manager’s office for another scolding session.
But she held her head up during those moments, aware they were going to pass and even more aware they were meant to intimidate her into offering sexual favors in return for a privileged work atmosphere.
Oh, hell, no.
Not ever. Not even if the prick turned blue in the face from too much screaming, or his waiting-to-happen stroke knocked him dead right before her eyes.
But even Stan Farley was looking away that moment, focused on a newly arrived high roller who’d taken a seat at one of the blackjack tables with a view of the stage. She didn’t know that one, but judging by the way Farley fawned over him, he must’ve been someone important.
Someone rich.
Someone who didn’t care that the odds at his blackjack table were stacked higher against him, just because the table came with a view of full inviting cleavage and tight little buns.
Hers.
She felt beads of sweat bursting at the roots of her hair and forced some stale air into her lungs. Maybe the air conditioning was off, or something. The cigar smoke made it almost unbreathable, but it was an acceptable tradeoff for being allowed to work the high roller pit, not some fifty-cents-minimum roulette floor, where the tips were always Washingtons, never a Franklin and rarely a Lincoln, and not a whole lot of them to count at the end of a shift anyway.
No, she’d been lucky, and her luck had started to play in her favor about a month after she’d been hired. For that she probably had Devine to thank.
Her sweaty palms made it difficult for her to get a good grip on the shiny, chrome pole, but she managed a back hook spin and landed facing Devine. Her best friend danced some 30 feet away, on a small, elevated stage set among four, high-limit, roulette tables.
She waited until she could make eye contact with Devine and waved discreetly at her best friend. Just seeing her smile back made her feel less lonely, less vulnerable. Maybe she was going to be okay. Maybe things would work out after all.
Without realizing, she put her palm on her belly in a soft, caressing gesture, aimed to comfort the tiny sparkle of life growing inside her. She wasn’t showing a baby bump yet, but soon that would change, and with it, her entire life as she knew it.
She skipped out of rhythm again, but soon snapped out of her trance, motivated by Farley’s mean glare. She focused on her customers for a while and, within a few minutes of smiling provocatively and wiggling her rear, a crisp fifty-dollar bill landed under the thin strap of her thong, delivered by long, hairy fingers that reached lower and lingered longer than was necessary.
Sometimes she was happy the payout was 6:5 instead of 3:2 on a blackjack at the tables facing her; those jerks deserved to pay.
But she smiled at the man who’d delivered the tip and mocked a reverence without letting go of the pole. Then she let herself fall into a back bend and frowned when she saw Farley was approaching.
“What the hell is wrong with you, huh?” he snapped, after grabbing her arm and pulling her close. The music was loud, and no one could hear his words; not that anyone would care if they did. “Could you be bothered to do your job tonight? A deaf penguin has more rhythm than you.”
“I’m working it, Stan, what the hell? I haven’t taken a break in two hours.”
“The hell you are, bitch. You see those bozos? If they’re looking at their cards instead of your ass, you ain’t earning your keep.”
He let go of her arm and disappeared before she could say anything. He was a two-faced creep; with her and the other girls he showed his real charm. For all the patrons and the rest of the Scala staff, he was a perfect gentleman, always dressed in an impeccable suit and starched, white shirts, pleasantly smiling and accommodating.
She knew better than to let him get under her skin.
But her head was spinning, and she held on tight to the pole, not as part of her routine, but for much-needed balance. The music changed, and she welcomed the new beat, one of her favorites. She knew the playlist by heart; the casino had a limited supply of premixed tracks, but the customers didn’t seem to care.
Cheers erupted at the table in front of her, and one of the players lifted his arms in the air, beaming. The croupier pushed an impressive pile of chips in front of the man, and she quickly flashed her megawatt smile and made lingering eye contact. He didn’t disappoint; he picked one of the chips and sent it flying her way. She caught it gracefully, then placed it on the floor, next to the pole. Her barely-there panties weren’t made to hold casino chips.
When she looked up, she startled.
It was him. It was Paul, and he was furious, by the angle of his eyebrows, by the deep ridges flanking his mouth.
He stood right there, next to her stage, glaring at her with a loaded gaze filled with such hatred that her breath caught. He beckoned her to come closer without making a single gesture. She approached him hesitantly and crouched to bring their eyes on the same level, aware not even Farley would dare say a word. She shot a quick glance toward Devine’s stage, but she was gone, nowhere in sight.
His eyes drilled into hers, close enough she could see his dilated pupils. Without a word, he shoved a purple and white chip deep inside her bra, then grabbed the thin strap, pulling her closer to him. He said something, keeping his voice low and menacing. She couldn’t make out his words but didn’t dare to ask. She wanted to explain herself, wanted him to understand her motives, but she couldn’t find her words.
She didn’t want his money, and she didn’t deserve his anger.
When he finally let go of her strap and pushed her away, she almost fell. Her knees were shaking, and she felt the urge to sit for a moment, to catch her breath. She grabbed the pole tightly and did a clumsy back slide against the shiny surface, landing hard on her butt, then folded her legs to the side. She let her head hang low, and her long, wavy hair covered her face, hiding the fear in her eyes until it subsided a little.
Then she wrapped her hands around the pole again, planning to stand and do a pirouette, but her arms and legs felt numb, listless. She tried to breathe, but air refused to enter her lungs. Frantic, she looked around, searching for someone, anyone, who could help. Only one man was looking at her, but her desperate and silent plea was misunderstood.
The man licked his lips, arranged his crotch with a quick gesture, then looked away at another dancer.
She gasped for air a couple of times, then the bright lights of the casino seemed to dim, inviting darkness to engulf her view of the lively floor. Silence came, heavy, palpable. Against it, not even her own heart beats could be heard.
Defeated, she let go. Her body landed on the stage floor with a loud thump that no one heard. Unnoticed, a white and purple casino chip fell out of her top and rolled onto the floor, stopping under a table.
For a long moment, Farley thought the immobile pose was part of Crystal’s routine, some new dance move that she was trying. Customers really enjoyed seeing girls crawling on the stage; it made the viewers feel powerful, superior, in control. By the time Farley realized he’d been wrong, she was already gone. His chubby fingers felt for a pulse and found nothing.
Now he’d have to call the cops and close the pit. His worst nightmare.
[Want more? Click below to read a longer excerpt.]


Praise for the Book
“This was well thought out and really a good mystery. The story unfolds little by little, making you want more. It has murder, powerful people who believe they can do anything they want, greed, revenge and self preservation. The characters are all interesting with their own set of secrets each, that Baxter and Holt have to pick through layer after layer to find the killer. There are several twists that keep you guessing. There are no misspelled words or grammar mistakes, or filler pages, which makes this a pleasure to read. I sincerely hope we see more of Baxter and Holt in the future. Another well thought out and well written story by Leslie Wolfe.” ~ PWA
“This story will take your breathe away! Leslie Wolfe has become one of my Must Read authors. […] I would highly recommend this book if you like thrillers.” ~ Cheryl Pompilii
“This book has it all: murder, mystery and intrigue! Not only is there a great plot, there are several good subplots masterfully woven in. There is no shortage of suspects - everyone from another dancer to billionaires. This thriller moves along at a decent pace from the beginning and will keep your attention until the end.” ~ Gabi Rosetti
“Satisfying murder mystery with continuous twists and turns. My kind of book. A really good sequel to Las Vegas Girl. Best to read it first for more info on the relationship between Baxter and Holt. Good editing, which is greatly appreciated. No fillers, long paragraphs. I read it in one day. Looking forward to the next sequel. Love this duo!” ~ Astrida M.
“Bestselling author Leslie Wolfe weaves another great mystery, thriller and suspense, with intriguing twists and turns that will easily captivate the reader’s attention from the beginning. The author paints a gripping and mesmerizing detective story in a very vivid and convincing way. In addition, the characters are drawn with great credibility and conviction. It’s a fast-paced novel that will keep you engaged from the first page to the last.” ~ Piaras

About the Author
Leslie Wolfe
Leslie Wolfe is a bestselling author whose novels break the mold of traditional thrillers. She creates unforgettable, brilliant, strong women heroes who deliver fast-paced, satisfying suspense, backed up by extensive background research in technology and psychology.
Leslie released the first novel, Executive, in October 2011. It was very well received, including inquiries from Hollywood. Since then, Leslie published numerous novels and enjoyed growing success and recognition in the marketplace. Among Leslie’s most notable works, The Watson Girl (2017) was recognized for offering a unique insight into the mind of a serial killer and a rarely seen first person account of his actions, in a dramatic and intense procedural thriller.
Leslie enjoys engaging with readers every day and would love to hear from you.

Giveaway
Enter the tour-wide giveaway for a chance to win $1000 cash in the gift card of your choice.


Links

Monday, September 17, 2018

"Nice Try, Afton" by Brent Jones

REVIEW and EXCERPT
Nice Try, Afton
(Afton Morrison Book 3)
by Brent Jones

Nice Try, Afton (Afton Morrison Book 3) by Brent Jones

Author Brent Jones stops by today to share an excerpt from his latest book, Nice Try, Afton. You can also read my review. This is the thirdd book in his Afton Morrison serial thriller. Also available: Go Home, Afton (read my blog post) and See You Soon, Afton (read my blog post). Available for pre-order: Time’s Up, Afton and The Afton Morrison Series (Books 1-4).


For more books by this author, please check out my blog post on The Fifteenth of June and my blog post on Fender.

Description
Is evil a matter of choice, or are we born that way?
After a string of brazen arsons overwhelms Wakefield’s first responders, the town is placed on lockdown, rendering Afton and her companions vulnerable to attack.
In a last-ditch effort to protect her inner circle, Afton attempts to establish an improbable truce with her archnemesis, leading her into a deadly trap more than a decade in the making. Survival will mean choosing to embrace her dark side, once and for all.
Nice Try, Afton is the third of four parts in a new serial thriller by author Brent Jones. Packed with grit and action, the Afton Morrison series delves into a world of moral ambiguity, delivering audiences an unlikely heroine in the form of a disturbed vigilante murderess.

Excerpt
Drizzle pelted my face, aided by whipping winds, the tail end of a massive downpour. The rain had helped to steal some of the mugginess from the hot summer eve. But it had drenched my glasses, too, hampering my vision, and had soaked me to the bone, making stealth a challenge.
Dressed in dark athletic attire—a half-zip pullover in charcoal and navy leggings—I kept my pace slow and even, with knees bent and hips close to the ground. Puddles made it difficult to move without generating noise, as I maneuvered between houses and trees. From farther up the street came a familiar rumble. A military Humvee, headed in my direction. I pressed my back to the side of the nearest bungalow, taking cover behind wet cedar shrubs, submerging my sneakers in mud up to the ankles.
A Humvee the color of sand rolled past, occupied by two uniformed men in the front. I stuck my head out from the side of the house and scanned in all directions, not that I expected to see much. Somewhere not far from me, however, sirens pierced the night. There was shouting, too. Several men, loud but indistinct, and fast interrupted by a popping sound. No, taking the main road beneath all its ample streetlight would be far too risky. The cops would come through soon, and their reds and blues would dissolve all the places I had left to hide.
I raced through the nearest backyard, leaping over the shabby picket fence, and scrambled up a hill just behind Wakefield Public Library. My mud-caked feet slipped and struggled on the slick grass, causing me to topple, and I broke the fall with my damaged hand. Waves of pain, originating from two fractured fingers, traveled up my arm, and exited my mouth in a high-pitched expletive.
[Want more? Click below to read a longer excerpt.]


Praise for the Book
“This is fast-paced, action packed, and full of surprises. Less than 200 pages, it's a fast read.. one you won't want to put down. Suspense builds from the first page and just doesn't let up.” ~ Linda Strong
“Wow! Afton takes us on a wild ride in this installment. […] Like the first two installments in this series, Nice Try, Afton is an easy 5 stars and I can’t recommend this series enough.” ~ Reads & Reels
“Jones delivers his unlikely protagonist in intense and raw dialogue, adult situations, and language. It is a novella of nail-biting hard-core suspense and you won't get to breathe until Book 4 is done and won. These characters pit each other in good vs evil and we've yet to see their true colors.” ~ Stanley McShane
“Oh my stars, Afton!! I’m still buzzing after reading this third book in the series!! This one was the most anxiety provoking, nail biting, I didn’t know if my kindle and I were going to get through it!! […] Once again I’m not at all let down by this series. It only gets better and better. I can’t wait to get into book four and find out how Afton gets out of this next jam she’s in!! I’m rooting for you Afton!!!” ~ Donna

My Review
I received this book in return for an honest review.


By Lynda Dickson
In this installment, we jump straight into the action, continuing from where the previous book left off. The town is in lockdown and Afton is sought by the police. She and her new friends are caught in a game of cat and mouse with her new enemies, and Afton learns what she is capable of.
The action is non-stop, and you never know what is going to happen next. One this is sure, no one is safe.
Edge-of-your-seat stuff.
Be warned, this is a serial novel, and you will have to read the rest of the series to get the complete story. I can’t wait to find out how everything is resolved.
Warnings: coarse language, graphic violence, sexual references, sex scenes.

About the Author
Brent Jones
From bad checks to bathroom graffiti, Brent Jones has always been drawn to writing. He won a national creative writing competition at the age of fourteen, although he can’t recall what the story was about. Seventeen years later, he gave up his career to pursue creative writing full-time.
Jones writes from his home in Fort Erie, Canada. He’s happily married, a bearded cyclist, a mediocre guitarist, and the proud owner of two dogs with a God complex.


Links