Excerpt: Third Rail by Rory Flynn
Third Rail
By: Rory Flynn
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt
Published: June10, 2014
Genre: Mystery
At crime scenes, Eddy Harkness is a human Ouija board, a brilliant young detective with a knack for finding the hidden something—cash, drugs, guns, bodies. But Eddy’s swift rise in an elite narcotics unit is derailed by the death of a Red Sox fan in the chaos of a World Series win, a death some camera-phone-wielding witnesses believe he could have prevented. Scapegoated, Eddy is exiled to his hometown just outside Boston, where he empties parking meters and struggles to redeem his disgraced family name.
Then one night Harkness’s police-issue Glock disappears. Unable to report the theft, Harkness starts a secret search—just as a string of fatal accidents lead him to uncover a new, dangerous smart drug, Third Rail. With only a plastic disc gun to protect him, Harkness begins a high-stakes investigation that leads him into the darkest corners of the city, where politicians and criminals intertwine to deadly effect.

Harkness runs west toward the car. No dodging. Stay on the line. These are the rules of engagement tonight.
The BMW hurtles closer and the driver hits the horn. Breath steaming in the cool night air, Harkness runs down the yellow line. The horn screams and the car swerves so close that Harkness could reach out and touch the doors as it flies past, its slipstream spinning Harkness to the ground. The driver lays on the horn, the note bending lower as the car speeds away.
“One down,” Harkness whispers. His palms scrape in the grit as he stumbles to his feet and turns to watch the red taillights smearing toward South Station.
When Pauley Fitzgerald stood here exactly a year ago, the highway was crowded with Sox fans driving home. In the blurry security video, he leaps across the lanes, pivots sideways, ricochets from one lane to the next, and somersaults over moving cars. More than three million people had watched Turnpike Toreador the last time Harkness checked YouTube, staring in sick fascination as Pauley Fitz dropped, danced, and died. After it was all over, the Staties couldn’t even find his teeth.
Harkness runs down the empty highway as the white eyes of new headlights race toward him.


Rory Flynn is a Boston-based mystery writer whose novels include Third Rail, the debut of the Eddy Harkness series (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, June 2014). Author Jess Walter (Beautiful Ruins) calls Flynn “a suspense writer to watch.” And readers compare his work to Robert B. Parker, Richard Price, Dennis Lehane, and George V. Higgins.
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Excerpt: Thimble Down by Pete Prown
Thimble Down
By: Pete Prown
Publisher: Self-Published
Published: Aug. 1, 2013
Genre: YA Mystery
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THIMBLE DOWN is a country village where death and malice lurk the quiet lanes. When the vile, drunken Bing Rumple acquires a gem-laden treasure, violence begins to follow him everywhere. Where did Bing find such a precious jewel, and worse, is someone willing to kill to possess it? In this fast-paced adventure, the village bookmaster, Mr. Dorro, and his young companions Wyll Underfoot and Cheeryup Tunbridge are in a desperate race to find the answer—before death comes to Thimble Down.

The next morning, Bing Rumple was in full stride. He’d been walking in and out of shops, a chop house, pony stables, and many of the other burrows and houses that composed the center of Thimble Down, bragging about his exploits in the east. With his brother Farroot and Bill Thistle following him like a pair of leering weasels, Bing was enjoying his moment in the sun.
“How do you kill a ferocious goblin?” A youngling had just asked him this very question, and now he was preparing a grandly entertaining response. “Why, you can do it many ways, my boy-o,” he said in a tough voice, but trying to stifle a grin. “You can stick him in the throat with an arrow at fifty paces, or sneak up from behind and garrote the bugger with a sturdy piece of rope. Me, I generally just cut ‘em to pieces with this elvish saber. Look!” he said, drawing the glimmering blade out of his scabbard, “you can even see bits of dried, black goblin blood, and burnt flesh in the crevices.” At this, the Halfling children screamed with a mix of fright and glee and ran off to tell their horrified mothers. Bing and his pals roared with laughter.
As he expected, most people in Thimble Down had never even seen a goblin or troll up close. “What do they look like? Do they have bloody fangs?” asked young Tom Talbo, quivering with delight. Bing seemed to think for a moment before replying, “Oh course they do, young sir. And they have large bulbous eyes, thick grey-green or black skin covered with festering sores, long muscled arms, and meaty hands with claws on the end. They are fearsome to be sure, and if you get too close, they can shred yer intestines in a mere flash.” Bing embellished his tale each time someone asked. He’d never been a celebrity before, and he rather liked it.
“The worst of it was when me ‘n’ the lads were trapped with an elfin hunting party, pinned down by about a hundred and fifty goblins that outnumbered us mightily,” he rambled on. “We were on the top of a small bluff with goblins and trolls all around us. The elves fought valiantly, but we saved the day. Let me tell you the whole story.”
“Ya see, goblins hate fire, and by a stroke of fortune, the top of the bluff was covered with dry, dead brambles and bushes. So I braved a rain of goblin arrows and ran over to the elf chieftain. I said, ‘Toldir’—that was his name—‘go ask yer men to gather all the brush and big rocks possible, and arrange them on rim,’ I says. Of course, Toldir got pretty steamed at me for calling his warriors Men, because of course, elves ain’t Men and Men ain’t elves, if you reckon my meaning. But in the heat o’ battle, these things happen. Anyway, the elves did as I asked, and soon the entire edge of our bluff was ringed with brush and big boulders. I’ll hand it to them elves—they are strong and can move quick-like, especially in a pinch.”
“As a further stroke of luck, the elfin hunters had leatherskin bags filled with deer and musk oil from their recent kills, which we used to drench the brush. At Toldir’s command, the oil was lit afire, creating a massive inferno around the perimeter. I gave a shout of ‘Heave-ho!’ and we used sticks and logs to push the big rocks and flaming brush over the lip and down onto the enemy, who were stricken with terror. Those goblins that weren’t killed outright by the boulders and stones were hit with the flaming brambles and verily burst into flames. And any demons that escaped this hell were soundly stuck with deadly elvish arrows or, might I modestly say, by the edge of my sword as we charged down the hill to destroy the enemy. With the goblins either dead or in complete disarray, our troop was able to escape and rejoin the larger elf forces to fight another day.”
“Huzzah! Hurrah for Bing!” applauded his audience. Bing, Farroot, and Bill tossed handfuls of pennies into the crowd to curry their favor even more, driving the children mad with joy. Still, some of the older Halflings at the edge of the crowd couldn’t put the image of the sniveling Bing Rumple of yester-year out of their minds. “How could that miserable excuse for a Halfling be such a hero?” they thought. But in general, the village folk were greatly entertained, and this was a great boon to local merchants who hadn’t seen crowds this big since the harvest festival of the previous year. Up and down the hard-packed dirt lanes in Thimble Down, sellers were bringing their wares into the open air, especially pies, cakes, and any variety of dried, candied meats on a stick, which only cost a penny or two and were gobbled down rapturously.
Many in the crowd were also ogling the gem-encrusted brooch pinned on Bing’s left breast. Indeed, more than a few secretly began to covet it. Among them was one Halfling who decided—at that very moment—to steal it.
Even if it meant someone had to die.
 


Pete Prown is a noted American writer of Young Adult fantasy books, as well as a magazine and book editor, and journalist. He’s written both fiction and non-fiction books, including Thimble Down, the soon-to-be-published Devils & Demons, and a series of instructional titles about guitars. Also a talented musician and recording artist, his Guitar Garden music is available on CDBaby.com and iTunes.
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Excerpt: Trust Me by Natasha Blackthorne
Trust Me
(Regency Risks, #2)
By: Natasha Blackthorne
Publisher: Self-Published
Genre: Erotic Historical Romance
Anne and Jon’s story continues.
Is she insane?
All of Mayfair is whispering the question.
Anne Lloyd, the new Countess of Ruel, thought she’d finally begun to heal from having witnessed the terrible death of her first husband. But, from her new husband’s grandmother to his ex-mistresses, it is all that is on everyone’s lips. What scares her more than the potential social ruin is that even she isn’t sure they aren’t right.
Jonathon Lloyd, the Earl of Ruel, has commanded men on the battlefield and women in the ballrooms and bedchambers with his dominant personality. It tears him apart that he can’t command his wife’s terrors to go away. To top it off, he has to battle his grandmother, for Anne’s acceptance as the new Countess. There are times when it seems to him that the bloody battlefields of Europe were easier to navigate than the so-called civilized graces of Society.
There are those who will stop at nothing to tear apart the fragile bond between thenewlyweds. Can Lady and Lord Ruel learn to trust each enough to keep their love, andher sanity, intact?
Reader Advisory: Trust Me is an erotic historical romance. It features frequent, graphic descriptions of sexual acts and frank sexual slang from the time period. As a work of historical fiction, it is not meant to be an accurate portrayal of modern BDSM lifestyles or practices. It is also not meant to be an accurate portrayal of modern treatment or recovery from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

Jon released his tension in quiet whistle, and then tapped his fingers upon the desktop again.
There was no help for it. They must face this. No one could be allowed to believe that either of them was hiding in shame.
The bed creaked and drew his attention.
Anne had sat up, her black-as-midnight hair tumbled over her shoulders and her dark blue eyes were huge in a face that seemed a bit strained. A catch in his chest caused him to hold his breath.
He glanced back at the letter.
You stupid boy, did you forget yourself and stash your brains in your breeches?
Lady S. tells me that this Lady C. threw herself at your head and made such a spectacle of herself that you will be forced to marry her. Lady W. B. and the Countess of C. both say they believe you are already gone away on your wedding trip. Is that it then? I demand to know! Have you married Lady C.? Please tell me you haven’t wed this hoyden!!!
“It is unfair to be judged solely on such a moment.” Anne’s voice was very soft.
“I don’t like it, either. But it is the way our world is arranged. You are a lady and now you are my lady.”
Her shoulders rose and fell with her deep inhalation and then they slumped. “She makes me seem so dreadful.”
He ran a caressing hand over her upper back. “Anne, don’t be distressed. You must trust me to think on what to do. And you mustn’t worry.” He squeezed her hand. “We’ll give lie to the rumours.” He put all the confidence he possessed into his tone. However, he knew Cherry and Maria could be very vindictive. As could his grandmother.
A slight pounding began at Jon’s temples. Was Anne strong enough to face the fire?
 

I am married to my own hero and we share our life with a very quirky calico cat. I have a BA in History and I love to read, both romance and scholarly history and I listen to a variety of music from classical to reggae. But mostly I am hard at work researching and writing my next story.
Cover Reveal & Excerpt: Collide by Melissa West
Collide
(The Taking, #3)
By: Melissa West
Publisher: Entangled Teen
Release Date: Dec. 2, 2014
Genre: Sci-Fi Young Adult
Military legacy Ari Alexander has survived alien spies, WWIV, and a changing world order. But when the new leader of Earth uses Jackson—the only boy she’s ever let herself care about—to get to her, Ari has no choice but to surrender. To free Jackson, she agrees to travel to the national bases to train others to fight.
What she discovers is a land riddled with dying people. Ari has the power to heal by turning the fighters into aliens—half-breeds like her. If she succeeds, together, they have a chance at overthrowing the alien leader, Zeus. But if she fails, everyone she holds dear will be wiped away forever.
Once again, everything Ari’s come to believe is thrown into question. In a world of uncertainty, loyalties are tested, lies are uncovered, and no one can be trusted. If Ari and Jackson have any hope at survival and at preserving a life for the future, they must fight the final war with their eyes wide open.
“Wake up!”
I feel as though someone has pinched my mind, shaken my brain around,
and asked it to work again. I try to open my eyes, but they’re heavy and clouded
and I begin to worry that maybe they are open. I just can’t see.
“Wake up!”
I flinch at the sound, so close to my ear, yet far away. Or maybe it’s my understanding that’s far.
“Ari. We’re out of time. Wake up!”
My mind flashes into focus, but I don’t open my eyes. I can feel, sense, everything around me. The beeping sounds that alternate in succession. The breathing in and out of the person beside me, yet I can’t make out who the person is. Even if it’s a he or she. But what I can sense is danger, danger so intense that the hairs on my arms are at full attention and the xylem in my body has sparked, causing me to instantly want the person beside me dead. If he or she—it—is dead then I am free to escape, even if I have no idea what or who I am escaping from.
“Fine. Just call this payback.”
I have one second to realize that the person is Cybil, before a gut wrenching pain slices through my left arm. My eyes snap open and she’s in front of me, so pale and rattled that she looks like a ghost of herself. I glance down at my arm to see that Cybil ripped out my IV and is now holding it in her hand like a
“I warned you. Look. This likely triggered an alarm. We have to get out of here. Right now.”
I try to nod, but my body is sluggish and I’m not sure that I’ve moved at all. Cybil loops her arm under my back to help me sit up, and instantly the room begins to move in and out of focus. “What happened to me?”
“They happened. Now move.”
I start to climb off the table I’m on, when Cybil’s eyes round out and her body begins to quake. “Cybil? What is it?” I reach out for her, just as her body collapses to the ground and a metal door behind her slides open. Two men dressed in thick white suits rush in, followed by a shorter man. A man I recognize.
“Hello, Ari. Nice to see you awake,” Kelvin says. Kelvin Lancaster. I remember him from the talks with Earth, how he seemed to be in control, how everyone around him acted uneasy in his presence. Like he was more enemy than friend. I start to respond to him, when I feel a sharp pinch in my arm. I look up to see another white-suited person behind me, syringe in hand. I try to push the person away. I try to open my mouth to scream. But suddenly my lips feel tingly, my arms limp. I focus back on Kelvin, on the grin on his face, and then the world around me disappears, and I’m once again alone in the darkness.
 
Melissa lives in a tiny suburb of Atlanta, GA with her husband and daughters. She pretends to like yoga, actually likes shoes, and could not live without coffee. Her writing heroes include greats like Jane Austen and Madeleine L’Engle.
She holds a B.A. in Communication Studies and an M.S. in Graphic Communication, both from Clemson University. Yeah, her blood runs orange.GRAVITY is her first novel.
Excerpt: Letting Go by Maya Banks
Letting Go
(Surrender Trilogy, #1)
By: Maya Banks
Publisher: Berkley Trade
Published: Feb. 4, 2013
Genre: Erotica
Josslyn found perfection once, and she knows she’ll never find it again. Now widowed, she seeks the one thing her beloved husband couldn’t give her. Dominance. Lonely and searching for an outlet for her grief and wanting only a brief taste of the perfection she once enjoyed, she seeks what she’s looking for at an exclusive club that caters to people indulging in their most hedonistic fantasies. She never imagined that what she’d find is the one man who’s long been a source of comfort—and secret longing. Her husband’s best friend.
Dash has lived in an untenable position for years. In love with his best friend’s wife and unwilling to act on that attraction. He’d never betray his best friend. And so he’s waited in the wings, offering Joss unconditional support and comfort as she works past her grief, hoping for the day when he can offer her more.
When he finds her in a club devoted to the darker edges of desire, he’s furious because he thinks she has no idea what she’s getting herself into. Until she explains in detail what it is she wants. What she needs. As realization sets in, he is gripped by fierce, unwavering determination. If she wants dominance, he is the only man who will introduce her to that world. He is the only man who will touch her, cherish her…love her. And the only man she’ll ever submit to.
 
 
 

Dash’s brow furrowed, and he made no effort to hide his concern. He reached for her hand as they stopped at a light.
“What’s going on with you, honey?”
His tone was worried and his eyes were boring intently into hers.
She gave him a half smile. “I’m having lunch with Kylie and Chessy. It’s time I stop with the grieving widow act every year on the same day. It’s been three years, Dash. He’s gone and he’s not coming back.”
She halted a moment, the pain of her statement momentarily stealing her breath. But it had to be said. To be acknowledged. And perhaps saying it aloud made it that much more real.
She could swear she saw relief flash in his deep brown eyes, but it was gone so quickly she was sure she imagined it.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to come over after you have lunch with the girls?”
She shook her head. “No. It’s not necessary, Dash. You’ve babysat me for long enough. It’s time for me to stand on my own two feet. I’m sure it has to come as a relief to you that you don’t have to hover over me for fear I’ll lose it. I’m just sorry I’ve been such a burden to you for so long.”
This time a glint of anger flashed in those dark eyes. “You’re not a burden, damn it. Carson was my best friend, Joss. He—and you—mean a hell of a lot to me.”
She squeezed his hand as he accelerated after a car behind them honked angrily when Dash didn’t immediately go when the light turned green.
“And I appreciate that. I appreciate all you’ve done for me. But it’s time, Dash. I have to do this. He’s gone. I have to accept that.”
Dash didn’t respond. He directed his gaze forward, tension thick in the interior of the car. Had she angered him? She’d only been honest, and she’d sincerely thought he would be glad that he no longer had to treat her like a fragile piece of glass. That he could resume his own life without making her a priority in his.
When they arrived back at her house, she got out, as did Dash. He walked her to the door and she went in, turning back to tell him thank you and goodbye.
“This isn’t goodbye,” he said tightly. “Just because you think you no longer need me doesn’t mean I’m going to just disappear. Prepare yourself for that, Joss.”
With that, he spun on his heel and strode back down the sidewalk, leaving her staring open-mouthed as he drove away.
 


My name is Maya Banks and I live in Texas with my husband and three children and our assortment of pets. I’m more of a cat person, but my daughter became convinced she NEEDED a dog. So convinced in fact that it became her mission to convince her father and me. She prepared a two page handwritten proposal that detailed WHY she needed a dog, and well, after I sent her to her father (I knew he wouldn’t tell her no) we embarked on the search for the perfect dog. The journey that was two hours away and that I got pulled over for speeding while I was on the phone with my agent who had an offer from a publisher for one of my books… The officer wasn’t impressed. He wrote me a ticket anyway. Thus, I now tell my daughter that her dog turned into one very expensive concession! But isn’t he cute?
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