Irene Hannon Presents New Series! Against All Odds: Heroes of Quantico - Suspense Thriller with a Touch of Christian Romance...With a Look at Today's Headlines

  “We’re with the Hostage Rescue Team.”

At an odd inflection in Mark’s voice, Coop’s antennas went up. “You sound worried.” “I am. You know how you said in the car you had bad feelings about this assignment? Well, they must be catching. In my opinion, the faster we can make Monica Callahan disappear, the better off everyone will be.” An ominous chill settled over Coop. Never in the three years he’d been paired with Mark on missions could he remember a single occasion when both of them had been unnerved by a job. Bottom line, they needed to get Ms. Callahan out of sight.

Once upon a time, all of this had seemed exotic. But the years had taught him that exotic was often interchangeable with impoverished. That was true here. The merchandise was the only bright spot in the otherwise bleak, dingy setting. As he’d been instructed, David strolled down the street in an unhurried manner—and with surprising calmness. So much for his worry that when the moment arrived, fear would paralyze him. Instead, the opposite had happened. After all, there were far less meaningful ways to leave this world. At least his death, if that was his fate on this cold February day, would be for a noble cause. Both the hostages and Monica would be— 

“... Disney World.” As the last two words of the sentence registered, he swung around. A young boy of seven or eight was regarding him with solemn, dark eyes. His face was dirty, his nondescript clothing a mismatch of drab, ill-fitting items—and he held a bamboo cage containing a pigeon. “Repeat.” David said the word in Pashto. The boy shifted from one foot to the other, darting a quick, nervous glance up and down the street, but he didn’t comply with the request. Instead, he pointed to the backpack. “Repeat.” David tried again, switching to Dari. He had to be sure this wasn’t some freak coincidence, simply a young boy who’d been attracted by his Mickey Mouse backpack and was looking for a handout. The boy spoke again in slow, deliberate English. “I would someday like to go to Disney World.” This was it. David’s heart began to pound as he eased the backpack off his shoulder and handed it to the youngster. The boy dropped the pigeon cage, grabbed the backpack with both hands, and wove his way down the street. In seconds he had disappeared. Slowly David backed away from the cage. There was little chance a bomb could be concealed in the delicate mesh of bamboo, but there were plenty of shadowy doorways and tiny lanes where a sniper could be hiding. Now that his package had been delivered, he was expendable—if the informer had used the lure of information as no more than a ruse to generate some easy cash...and eliminate the courier. Nevertheless, he followed the instructions and headed toward his waiting car, looking neither right nor left. It was the longest walk of his life. When he emerged from the market, the embassy car was parked fifty feet away. As he approached it, the driver started to get out, but he waved the man back into the vehicle and slid in, shutting the door behind him. “Let’s get out of here.” “Yes, sir.” The ride back to the embassy was tense and quiet. Not until they pulled into the compound and the gates swung shut behind them did he allow himself to believe his life had been spared. The informant had kept his bargain. So far. Now he could only hope the man would honor the rest of it and supply the information they desperately needed. 

* * * 

“Ladies and gentlemen, communication isn’t brain surgery, although the tools of the trade can be dangerous. Words, like scalpels, can cut. But so can silence.” Monica waited, giving the audience in the Jefferson Hotel’s ornate ballroom a few seconds to digest that thought. “You know, I must admit I’m not much of a country music fan.” Her gaze swept the audience and she smiled. “But there was a song a few years back that captured my key message today. It was called ‘I Thought You Knew.’ It’s a song about the danger of assumptions, and wishing for a chance to say all the things you thought the other person knew. “‘I Thought You Knew’ happens to be a love song. But the principle is true in all parts of our life. If you remember only one thing from my talk this morning, let it be this: don’t make the mistake of assuming someone knows how you feel—in your professional life or your personal life. Talk the walk. Thank you.”

Thunderous applause filled the room, and three hundred people rose to their feet as one. From his position to the right of the velvet-draped stage, facing the audience, Coop had an excellent view of the enthusiastic response to Monica’s speech. And the ovation was well deserved. For the past forty-five minutes, she’d made everyone in the room think, charmed them into laughter, and touched their hearts. Including his. No question about it. The lady knew her stuff. He exchanged a glance with Mark, who stood at the front of the room on the other side of the stage. His partner gave a subtle thumbs-up. As Monica launched into the Q&A session, fielding questions with consummate skill and a warmth that endeared her to the audience, Coop altered his position slightly to better observe the people approaching the mike positioned in the center aisle, beneath the huge crystal chandelier. They all looked like typical business types. No one exhibited any behavior that tripped a red alert. Everything seemed under control. A visual and audio check with the agents positioned at the exits and in the red-draped alcoves along the sides of the room confirmed that nothing was amiss. 

Still, it was a relief to be in the home stretch. Twenty minutes later, as the president of the organization joined Monica on the podium to end the Q&A, Coop and Mark slipped backstage to relieve the agents on duty there. “Wasn’t she great?” The man’s enthusiastic question was met with another round of applause as his voice boomed through the mike. “Talk the Walk will be available for sale in the expo area, so be sure to pick up a copy. Ms. Callahan, thank you again. I know we all learned a lot this morning. Ladies and gentlemen, lunch is now served in the Empire Room.” 

As the man shook her hand and she exited into the wings, Coop took the lead escort position while Mark fell in behind her. Once in the food service area, two more agents joined them. They formed a tight circle around Monica while they wove among stainless steel counters and racks of dirty dishes. As they approached the outside fire door where they’d entered, its alarm disengaged for Monica’s appearance, Coop spoke into the mike at his wrist. Listened to the response. Everything was quiet out there. Excellent. “We’re clear. Let’s make this fast.” He pushed through the door. Maintaining their tight circle, they hustled Monica into the waiting SUV, which was book-ended by two nondescript vehicles. He climbed in beside her, and Mark took the front passenger seat. 

Only after they were on the road and headed back to her house did he speak. “That was quite a performance.” A flush crept over her cheeks. “Thanks.” “I second that.” Mark angled toward her. “You had them eating out of your hand.” Her color deepened. “You two are good for my ego. You can come to my speaking engagements anytime. Except I hope you can sit in the audience and enjoy the next one.” “I enjoyed this one. Didn’t you, Coop?” “Yes.” “Learn anything?” Coop sent him a “knock it off” look. His partner ignored him. “In case you haven’t noticed, Monica, Coop’s not the most talkative guy. But I found him reading your book at two in the morning on Sunday, so maybe there’s hope for him yet.” “You were reading my book?” Monica’s eyebrows rose as she gave him her full attention. He shifted in his seat. “I was having a hard time staying awake that first night, and I like to read. I found it on your bookshelf. It sounded interesting.” She waited, as if she expected him to say more. When the silence lengthened, Mark rolled his eyes. “It might be nice to comment on the book.” Heat surged on Coop’s neck. “That’s okay.” Monica stepped in. “It’s not everybody’s cup of tea. What sort of books do you like to read?” “Biographies. But I was intrigued by your book. It kept me awake.” Mark snorted and turned back toward the front. “I give up.” The heat crept past his collar. If ever there was a backhanded compliment, that had been it. Before he could think of a way to mitigate his faux pas, Monica reached over and laid her slender fingers on his hand—as he’d done with her yesterday. “It’s okay. I’ll take intrigued. And trust me, considering that a lot of my students use my book to cure insomnia, the fact it kept you awake until the wee hours is a compliment.” He added graciousness to her growing list of attributes. “Don’t you get nervous in front of a big audience like that?” Mark tossed the query over his shoulder as he surveyed the area they were passing through. Monica removed her hand from his, leaving a chill on his skin where welcome warmth had been moments ago. “Not usually. You gain a comfort level with practice. I thought I might have a problem today, given all that’s going on, but I attribute my calmness to you guys. I trust you to keep me safe.” “No pressure there.” Mark’s tone was teasing. But as Coop well knew, he was more than half serious. Rightly so. 

Trust was helpful. It induced cooperation. But there was a downside too. When someone trusted you, it added to your burden. Increased your sense of responsibility. Failure became less of an option. Not that he’d needed Monica’s profession of trust to solidify his resolve to keep her safe. That was his job. But in the past three days this mission had become more than that. Because he was coming to care about her far more than the duties of this assignment dictated.

~~~~~~

Still, convincing the White House and the intelligence community that the risk was worth taking had required every nuance of skill he’d developed in his forty years of diplomacy and negotiating. But in the end, he’d succeeded. Tomorrow he would drive into Kabul and follow the informant’s instructions to the letter. And if all went well…if he wasn’t walking into a trap…if the informant followed through on his promise to provide the information…if they could find the hostages before the terrorists grew impatient and killed them…the end of the crisis might be in sight. He paused outside his office door. Took a steadying breath. That was a lot of ifs. But it was the only hope they had of locating the hostages, and he was willing to put his life on the line to rescue them. And to keep his daughter safe.

Since politics has entered our lives in such a strange and sad way, I find myself interested in books related to our government--as it should be! I routinely tape the FBI TV series and watch as it is convenient for me. I enjoy the diversity of characters that comes with an ongoing program that has not been disrupted by what is happening now in the U.S. I was pleased that this book also followed the normalcy that we have been used to for decades prior to 2016...

Against All Odds certainly is a winner for me... It takes readers into the inner lives of both agents and those who are caught in some type of criminal activity that forces action to help those citizens pulled in, often unknowingly. Of course, the characters are created; however, I found Hannon a writer who is well able to bring life to "real people" even if they aren't... Know what I mean? In Against All Odds, there are main characters who are both successful in their lives, while hiding a side of their lives that has long affected their own reality. Isn't that how most of us are? Yet, it takes a special writer to bring these dual-lives of one character or another, and merge their personal stories into something new and exciting... Kudos to Hannon for this special awareness in the stories she provides to all of us!

I found it ironic that I am turning more and more to fictional books so that good over evil is found... In my earlier days of dreaming about heaven, I pictured that stories were developed there for we who are living... NOW, I know that God would never write such hateful tales of the evil desires of, frankly, mostly, men... For He is Indeed a God of Love... And it is We, humans, who have the choice of who we shall be...

We find a father in Against All Odds, who we see within our governments as well. They are the ones that decide in their own minds that they are needed to help a country's people be saved from this or that... Yes, unfortunately, there is such a need. But it is questionable as to how it is to be accomplished...  David Callahan served in the government for more than 40 years known mostly for his great ability to negotiate with foreign leaders.  

(You know, like Kerry did in negotiating a peace treaty with Iran under President Obama... Yet was torn up by the present president who started a war for no reason...) 

Callahan's dedication to that life had resulted in an almost complete separation from his wife and daughter. He was needed he thought. Plus he enjoyed what he was doing so much! But now, right now, the enemy had honed in on that dedication...

“Sir? I think you need to hear this.” At his aide’s terse comment, David Callahan looked up from the security briefing in his hand. Flicked a gaze at the tape recorder and single sheet of paper Salam Farah held as he stood on the threshold of the small office deep inside the fortified U.S. Embassy compound in Kabul, Afghanistan. David lowered the briefing to his desk. “A new message from the terrorists?” “Yes. And another more personal threat.” “I’m not interested in threats directed at me.” David waved the comment aside. “Let our security people worry about them.” “This one is different, sir.” He studied Salam. After forty years in the diplomatic service, most of them spent dealing with volatile situations in the world’s hot spots, he’d learned to trust his instincts about people. And in the two months he’d been back in Afghanistan trying to help stabilize the local government, Salam had earned his respect. His aide wouldn’t raise a red flag unless there was a valid reason. “All right.” David resettled the thin frame of his wire-rimmed glasses and held out his hand. “Let’s see what they have to say.” In silence, Salam set the recorder on the desk, pressed the play button, and passed the sheet of paper to David. As the spoken message was relayed in the language favored by the Taliban, David tuned out the Pashto and scanned the English translation. The warning was similar to those that had come before—convince the country’s struggling fledgling government to release a dozen incarcerated terrorists and pay a twenty-million-dollar ransom, or the three U.S. hostages that had been kidnapped a week ago would die. But as he read the last line, Salam’s concern became clear. The nature of the personal threat had, indeed, changed. If you do not convince the government to meet our demands, your daughter will be our next target. David’s pulse stuttered. “When did this arrive?” “Half an hour ago. It’s been in translation.”

And only then did he realize just how much his daughter really meant to him... And knew that the government's stance was NOT to deal with terrorists who chose to kidnap and seek ransom as a means of gaining control over their perceived enemy, the United States.

But when the reputation of such a man as David Callahan is brought into a new, deadly situation, things can be looked at more logically and plans follow... Readers will watch as several different individuals or groups are involved with getting money out of the capture of American citizens... The complexity can be confusing, mainly because it is difficult to determine who is working for good. Perhaps that was intentional, in order to sustain a sense of suspense, but I confess the plot got away from me and was only able to be followed by keeping track of the two main FBI characters, the team that had been assigned to keep Callahan's daughter safe...

And because Monica Callahan was a fantastically independent woman who had gained her own reputation and stature and refused to immediately act to follow the rules being mandated for her safety. For instance, she made it quite clear that she would be staying in her own home and participating in her usual or already planned schedule of events... And the first one to come up was attending church that Sunday...

The organ swelled for the final song, and Monica reached for the hymnal in the rack on the pew in front of her. This service had been the one normal thing in her life since the FBI invasion yesterday morning. Except for the two tall men seated behind her in the last pew, on the aisle—who weren’t there to praise God, but to protect her. Nor were some of the unfamiliar faces in the congregation pious visitors seeking Sunday worship, either. They were on-duty federal agents. Carrying guns. In church. It was surreal. At a touch on her shoulder, Coop’s instruction as they’d entered the church echoed in her mind. Leave ahead of the crowd. It was time to go. Letting out a slow breath, she replaced the hymnal and angled toward him. He tipped his head toward the aisle as his partner exited the pew. After picking up her coat, she edged out and fell into step behind Mark, Coop close on her heels. As Mark pushed open the door to the vestibule, Coop’s lean fingers closed around her upper arm in a firm but gentle grip, stopping her progress. “Give him a chance to verify everything is secure.” His warm breath feathered across her cheek as he leaned close to speak, a mere whisper away as his body shielded hers from behind while his partner conferred with a couple of dark-suited men and a woman in a black skirt and royal-blue blazer. She started to shrug into her coat, but he took it from her and held it as she slipped her arms into the sleeves. A few seconds later, Mark rejoined them. “We’re clear. The car’s in the portico. Let’s make it quick.” Flanked by the two men, she crossed the marble floor, her heels clicking in rhythm to the soaring notes of “Amazing Grace.” The three people Mark had been talking with spread out in the vestibule as a few members of the congregation wandered out. One of the agents pretended to read the bulletin board. Another checked his watch. The woman riffled through her handbag, as if searching for her keys. Yet it was clear they were all keenly attuned to their surroundings, watching for any indication of trouble. Protecting her. As they approached the exterior door, Mark stepped ahead, lifted his left arm, and spoke softly into the inconspicuous mike at his wrist, his voice feeding into the unobtrusive earpieces all of the agents on duty wore. Or so she’d learned when she’d asked for a briefing on what to expect before they’d left the house this morning. Without slowing his pace, Mark pushed through the door. As he exchanged a few succinct comments with the agent standing on the other side, Coop maintained his grip on her arm. When the agent leaned over to open the door of the SUV parked a few feet away, she found herself being hustled forward and eased into the back seat. Coop slid in beside her and Mark claimed the front passenger seat while the agent took the wheel. Their exit was accomplished with such speed and smoothness that they were pulling out of the parking lot before the organ finished the first verse. “Wow. That was impressive.” Monica drew a deep breath. “I take it you two have been through this drill a few times.” “A few.” Coop glanced over his shoulder as he responded. “Checking for a tail?” Her question was only half in jest. The level of security for this little outing had demonstrated how seriously the threat against her was being taken. Suggesting the danger might be more real than she’d been willing to concede. Shifting his attention to the road ahead, Coop watched as a car pulled out from the curb and took up a position in front of them. “Did he just cut in front of us?” Monica leaned forward, gripping the edge of her seat as her heart tripped into a staccato beat. “Yes.” Coop settled back, his posture relaxed. “But he’s on our side. So is the car behind us. Buckle up.” Monica twisted toward the back window. There was, indeed, a car sticking close. “Did we have an...escort...on the way to church too?” “Yes.” And their return route was just as circuitous as the one they’d taken to church. As Coop had explained when she’d teased them earlier about their navigational skills, it was safer to operate “out of pattern,” as he’d put it. In other words, they were concerned that someone had been watching her long enough to know her habits. That was more than a little disturbing. Trying to stifle a sudden wave of panic, she groped for her seat belt and pulled it out. But as she tried to slide the buckle in, it slipped from her shaky grasp, retracting with a thump that had Mark reaching toward his belt. “Sorry.” Heat surged across her cheeks. “Let me.” Coop released his own belt and leaned across her. His broad shoulder pressed against her as he grasped the buckle and pulled it out, and his fingers brushed her hip when he engaged it. Which played havoc with her respiration. Almost like she was attracted to the tall, dark HRT operator beside her who reeked of masculinity and whose very presence evoked strength and competence. And in other circumstances, she might have been. But as appealing as he was, her response in these circumstances was more likely due to the sudden realization that her situation was a whole lot more perilous than she wanted to admit. Though her knowledge of law enforcement protocols was limited, it was doubtful that elaborate security measures like the ones being taken on her behalf were employed without very good reason. She moistened her lips. Cleared her throat. “I, uh, had no idea a simple visit to church was going to take this much coordination. The security was quite involved, wasn’t it?” Instead of responding, he touched his earpiece. And while he listened to whatever a colleague was saying, she settled back in her seat for the ride home—and tried to untangle the knots in her stomach.

I really enjoyed this story. Kudos to the author for taking on a topic which is right out of history--and the present time period as well. Books for me have become more important as writers create stories that both reflect the reality of life, as well as, ensuring that God, indeed, is right in the middle of all events we all face... I especially enjoyed Coop, who has his own history that had affected his life, and, yet, when he had first seen Monica,  he recognized that she was different than any other woman he'd ever met... Readers will enjoy watching their relationship develop and, yes, continue beyond the end of the book...

Highly recommended! I've ordered the next two books for this series...

GABixlerReviews

Random Road - Geneva Chase Crime Reporter Mysteries - A Suspenseful Thriller By Thomas Kies

“Is there a reason that things happen the way they do or is everything random?” 

Death was sitting there in one of those waiting room seats. You couldn’t see him, but he was always there. Life was in the ER, too, but she was in where the action was, working with the doctors and nurses. I suspect that when Death decides it’s time to take someone, he walks into one of the cubicles where the doctors are struggling to keep someone’s heart beating. Then, even though Life has put up a good fight, Death slides her off to one side. He smiles his skeletal grin, inexorably embraces the patient with his long cold arms, and bestows a final, icy kiss.

I don’t like emergency rooms because, in the end, you can’t negotiate, bribe, or trick Death into leaving you or a loved one alone. When it’s your time, it’s your time.

The emergency room waiting area had changed a lot since I was fourteen. It had become more “friendly.” The chairs were certainly more comfortable than I recalled. There was a flat-screen TV on one of the walls. There were toys for small children in a brightly colored plastic box on the floor. But the magazines were still out of date, which made me really nervous. 

When I got there, a half dozen people in twos and threes were sitting quietly around the room. Caroline was seated alone in a corner. She was staring out a window that overlooked a courtyard. “Hey, honey,” I said. “How’s your dad?” She turned and looked up at me. I could see the red rims around her eyes. Her face seemed even thinner and paler than before. Caroline looked absolutely haunted. “I don’t know.” Her voice turned high and squeaky. Then her lips quivered, her face reddened, and she hid her tears behind a crushed-up ball of over-used tissue. I leaned down and put my arms around her shoulders. She stood up and we hugged each other, much like what her father had done for me so many years before.

Just this morning, Kevin had told me that Caroline hadn’t cried since her mom died. He’d thought that maybe his daughter had been squeezed dry, that Joanna’s death had left the girl in a permanent state of shock. But here she was, sobbing uncontrollably in my arms. I knew what she was afraid of. She’d already lived through the tragedy of losing her mother. Being in an emergency room again for her dad was plain horrifying. Death wasn’t a stranger to this little girl. I dried her eyes with another ball of used tissue, but this one I found at the bottom of my bag. 

“What happened, honey?” She swallowed. “Right after you left this afternoon, Dad came into the house and fixed himself a drink. He and I talked a little bit about how you guys had gone out to Connor’s Landing to pick up a deposit check. He showed it to me; he was really proud. He said to keep an eye on the time because we were going to Poco Loco for dinner in a couple of hours. But all the while he was talking to me, I could see sweat was dripping off his forehead. “I asked him if he wanted me to turn up the air conditioner. But he shook his head, wiped his face with a paper towel, and then took his drink into the living room. I’d stayed in the kitchen to get some ice water from the refrigerator when I heard him fall.”

 I felt fear clutch at the hairs on the back of my neck. “He fell?” She slowly nodded. “I ran in and saw him struggling to get up off the floor. He couldn’t get to his feet. His face was really red and all scrunched up like he was in a lot of pain. He had one hand over his stomach like it was hurting really bad, so I took his other hand and tried to help him, but he couldn’t straighten up. He let go of me and just lay on the floor, groaning. 

I dialed 911. He kept trying to tell me not to call an ambulance, that he was okay. He just needed a few minutes and the pain in his stomach would go away.” “But it didn’t.” “It always has in the past, but not this time,” Caroline whispered. 

“This has happened before? Has he seen a doctor?” That was when I realized that Aunt Ruth was standing behind me. “Kevin hasn’t been to a doctor in years,” she stated flatly. I spun to see her staring at me with an expression of both disdain and fear. “Hi,” I offered, not knowing what else to say. “To answer your question,” Ruth said, “yes, this has happened before. But it’s never been this severe.”

~~~~

Geneva Chase is a woman who you will remember even after days or months... She is a strong woman, yet she has been an alcoholic in recent years... She has loved and lost through divorce. But most of all she's a Crime Reporter that has become the most important part of her life... Until...

This book is one of the best character-driven that I've read. Yet, intuitively I was able to pinpoint those who had performed one of the most horrendous crimes  ever. In fact, the ending of the book revealed exactly what had occurred. It was when I decided not to continue reading the series. Even though I ranked this book high and do recommend to some people... For me, it is purely based upon what is happening in America where people are being murdered right before our eyes and ignored by the government as if the victim is at fault...

On the other hand, reading this book was indeed one which required me to ponder and considr the way in which the author interwove the personal within the overall story...

Genie had been called to a murder scene by a detective with whom she had bonded. In turn, she would take his wishes as to how and when she actually reported what she had learned. But she had an exclusive on this murder which involved six people and she intended to keep it...

Genie was going to AA, although as you read, you may not believe that she has made any type of commitment to the process. But she had seen somebody there that she knew...

It was a good friend from her early life, a man now who had been with her through all the turmoil which occurred when her mother had died. Now she saw that he also was an alcoholic. Who also was not willing to give up drinking... But they did meet and become close. He had been married, but his wife had died from cancer--a terrible death that had been drawn out and his daughter had been right there seeing exactly what had happened. But Caroline had never cried. Her aunt had forced her to go into counseling. It was felt that she also watched how badly her Dad had been traumatized and had held back on her own loss to be there for her Dad.

Readers will learn of many different crimes that seem to occur around an actual "Random Road" location. Theft of homes of the rich section of town, a rumor of a sex club somewhere in an old home, and, even a hookup for Genie with a married man. Nothing that should surprise anybody these days, unfortunately.

But all of these crimes are all tied together, and little by little Genie is working with her detective friend to pull the facts together... While at the same time, Genie is falling in love with the friend she had reacquainted with who now was living nearby... Kevin had admitted that he'd been in love with her as a teen, but had never pushed it... He had also loved his wife dearly, but also realized that he'd continued to love Genie throughout those years... But every time they were together, they would decide to have a drink or two as they grew more involved... 

They had both agreed they wanted to be married and were moving in that direction... The only thing was that, Kevin had gone to the hospital. The doctors had explained that his liver was almost gone and his time for living was in...the...months...

It was quite natural, therefore, that the issues of death and dying came into the book... Genie and Kevin started to talk about their beliefs, their awareness of God--His existence... It is this that I found the author had achieved exactly what was required of the two characters to be thinking. Kudos to Kies for the personal lives of all characters seemed to be reveal at exactly the appropriate time... An amazing achievement in itself, in my opinion. This is Book 1 of a series. The writing is excellent! The overall plot was up-to-date for today's world, while at the same time, taking a deep dive into how each of us can or could or should react to the randomness of life events...

There was one thing that happened at the end that I felt was not random. Even then, I "think" I agreed with the author's closing, albeit a climax that was not a happy ending... or was it? As I sit writing, I find myself not sure that I might one day go out and see what Genie is doing in Book 2 of the series... Was the random events through this book leading to a life change for Genie? My curious mind, maybe, wants to know more... Do check it out!

GABixlerReviews

News!

Another shooting in Minnesota by Feds

Don't know anything more at this time

Governor Told Trump to GET OUT!

 

Erik Therme Presents Got You: A Suspense Thriller - Family Drama Straight from Headlines

 What bothered her the most was there was still no apology, even now. Would it have made a difference? Probably not, but it was just one more thing on top of everything else. Leah’s mom had been an avid apologizer—something she’d instilled in Leah as a child. I’m sorry shouldn’t be painful to leave the lips. It was a gift for the giver and receiver. Leah never understood that as a child, but she did as an adult. Maybe that was Damon’s problem: he was more kid than grownup.

What a whirlwind... Everything is spinning at one time! Characters add to the confusion by their actions and dialogue... And yet, there is absolutely no clues to the whodunit! A rare occurrence when an author is able to weave the action into a fully explained plot without revealing clues on the way. And yet, it worked! Kudos to the writer! 

Irene was unhinged, not homicidal. The two didn’t always go hand in hand. Or so Leah hoped. Either way, this had to stop. She took a shaky breath, exited the car, and started across the street. She was almost to the door when Irene lifted her head. The panic on her face was instant and unmistakable; so much so, that she almost knocked over her chair as she stood. It only bolstered Leah’s resolve. Leah stepped inside. They sized each other up. From across the street, Irene had looked put together with modest makeup and a nice blouse. Up close told another story. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her skin was ashen under the fluorescent lights. Her left sleeve was stained with coffee. Neither spoke. A radio played something jazzy from the corner, and even though Leah’s eyes never left Irene’s, she noted they were alone. “I saw you,” Leah said before she lost her nerve. “You were at my job earlier, watching me from your car.” She expected Irene to deny it. Irene didn’t. She only sat back at her desk. “And you were at my apartment last night,” Leah said. “My roommate, who was with me at the visitation, saw you in our parking lot. Did you go there to leave more hateful gifts at my door? Or maybe you were looking to spray-paint my car, like you did Damon’s house.” Irene’s jaw clicked. “What?” “Don’t lie to me. I know it was you—” “I haven’t done anything or talked to Damon in forever. He left me a message this morning, but he didn’t answer when I tried to call back. And why would I spray-paint your car or leave you hateful gifts, whatever that means?” “So you are going to deny it.” Irene dropped her eyes. Leah hadn’t been fully convinced it had been Irene in their parking lot last night, but after seeing her at Office Playground this morning, she now had no doubt. “It was me,” Irene said in a small voice. “I was at your apartment, and I went to your work today. But I haven’t done anything to you or your dad.” “I don’t believe you. You’re angry over Amanda, so you’re blaming me for her death, and blaming Damon for getting you pregnant.” Shock filled Irene’s face. “Amanda was the best thing that happened in my life. You think I blame Damon for giving her to me? I only blame you for taking her from me.” And there it was. Irene did blame Leah for the accident. Of course she did. Leah already knew this, but hearing the words spoken made it real. “Amanda called you for help,” Irene said. Her hands were trembling atop her desk. “You got angry and yelled at her. I read the report you gave to the police. I know everything.” Leah didn’t know what to say. She was here to stop Irene’s harassment; not be judged. Irene hadn’t been there that night. She hadn’t heard the things Amanda had said. How unreasonable she’d been. How cruel. But none of that mattered. Irene had lost her only child. Nothing Leah could say would change that. If Leah had simply given Amanda a ride, everything would have been fine. Until the next crisis. “What happened to Amanda was an accident,” Leah said for what felt like the umpteenth time. All the fight had gone out of her. “I didn’t know she was going to freak out and run away and get hit by a car. Blame me if you want. You think I don’t blame myself? I do. But I can’t change anything. All I can do is move on with my life . . . but I can’t do that with you stalking me. So what do you want? Just tell me.” Irene composed herself, if only a little. “I’m not stalking you,” she said evenly. “I’ve been trying to work up the courage to see you face to face so we can talk.” Leah crossed her arms. “And now we’ve talked and you’ve told me how you feel. So are we done with this? Or would you like to berate me more before I go? It won’t take much to make me feel worse than I already do.” Irene’s shoulders sagged. Apparently, all the fight had left her as well. “There’s a part of me that knows Amanda’s death was an accident,” she told Leah, “but every time I tell myself to accept that . . .” She dropped her clasped hands into her lap. “One minute, I think I’m okay, and then I think of you and that night, and I get angry again. I don’t want to be this way, but I can’t help it. I don’t know how to turn it off.” I know the feeling, Leah didn’t say, thinking of Damon. And she did. But that didn’t give Irene the right to harass Leah. If it was Irene doing it. Leah didn’t know what to think now. She was tired and wanted to be done. But there was still one question to be asked. “Someone has been messing with me and Damon,” Leah said. “If it isn’t you, then you could also be on their list. Has anything ‘bad’ happened to you recently?” Irene pursed her lips. “Other than the death of my daughter?” Not Leah’s best choice of words. “No,” Irene said. “I come to work, go home, and lie awake most of the night. Then I do it all over again the next day. Nothing changes.” “I’m sorry to hear that.” She leveled her gaze at Irene. “But if I see you outside my apartment or at my job again,” she said without malice, “I’m calling the police. Maybe they won’t do anything, but please . . . you have to figure out how to move on. You’re only making things worse for everyone.” Leah expected Irene to get defensive or angry, but Irene gave a submissive nod. There was nothing more to say. Leah moved to the door and heard Irene’s chair slide away from the desk. “Jake,” Irene said. Leah turned. Irene stood motionless with her palms on her shoulders, as if she were cold. “I’m sorry for being defensive,” Irene said. “You surprised me coming in here unexpectedly, and then tempers flared, and everything went downhill—” “What about Jake?” Leah asked cautiously. Irene shifted side to side as she spoke. “That’s what I wanted to talk with you about. I saw you with him at the cemetery. Jake’s a good man and a wonderful father. The world needs more people like him . . . and also like you, Leah. You’re decent and moral, just like your dad. Damon had a choice when he learned I was pregnant, and he owned up to what he’d done and asked me what I wanted. He didn’t run away.” Warning bells went off inside Leah’s head. She didn’t know where this was going or what it had to do with Jake, but the one thing Leah refused to do was listen to an explanation about their affair. “This isn’t about your dad,” Irene said, raising a hand. “All I’m saying is that people shouldn’t be alone. I’ve only ever had Amanda, and now that she’s gone, I’m lost without her. But that’s my cross to bear. I’m old and used to being by myself.” Her eyes took on a distant, glazed look. “Jake has his whole life ahead of him. Outside of Drew, Amanda was all he had. That boy needs a mother, and Jake needs companionship.” Leah’s skin tightened. “What are you saying?” “Amanda was your half-sister. If she’d married Jake, you and him would be family. In some ways, I already think of you as part of my family. We’re not related by blood or marriage, but we’re connected through Damon because of Amanda. Jake shouldn’t be alone. You’re young, like him, and single. If you and Jake hit it off . . . it’d almost be like him and Amanda being together. Don’t you see?” Leah couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She didn’t think Irene even knew what she was saying. “Just get to know him,” Irene said. “That’s all I’m asking. I can only comfort him so much. He needs someone his age to talk to. To commiserate with. He doesn’t have anyone else—” “I shouldn’t have come here,” Leah said, backing away. “You owe me,” Irene said sharply. “After what you did. You need to make it right. I’m not saying you have to fall in love—” “You’re as crazy as Amanda was,” Leah said without thinking. Now Irene was not only angry, but livid. Leah didn’t stick around for what came next. She bolted out the door and across the street to her car, never once looking back.

~~~~

Family Drama always reminds me of what they used to call "soap operas" where you could not watch the program for a year and then go back to find the same characters and easily pick up on the turmoil brewing with this character or the other. I'm not normally a fan, simply because it never concludes... So if you are a fan, this book is for you. I enjoyed it because there was something happening to the main character which actually became quite a mystery... And that is not solved until the very end. I missed it totally, so I was pleased...

As with a family drama, one just starts reading and will get to know the family as the book moves forward. Leah is the main character and is now in her 30s, having been estranged with her father for years, and especially after her mother died from a heart attack... Leah blamed the attack on her father having a one-night stand, which resulted in a child. Her mother said she forgave him, but was dead within three months, so Leah still held the pain of what her mother had gone through... Funny thing, though, the child, who had grown up with her mother had become an acquaintance, almost a friend to Leah. Admittedly Amanda had been thrilled to know she had a father who was also Leah's father...

Leah Chapman was going to die. But hopefully not tonight, she thought as she parked outside Murphy’s Bar. She’d never been inside, but she knew the place. Everyone did. It was your typical dive: no flashy lights or neon signs—just an old, windowless brick building with gravel parking out front and back. Rumor had it you could score everything from crack cocaine to hookers inside. Leah doubted that, as the town of Aurora was far from a bustling metropolis, but she had no interest in finding out. She assumed Amanda would be outside waiting for her, but no such luck. Amanda was lucky Leah had answered the incoming unknown call so late at night. Her reward? You have to come get me right now! Leah checked her phone. No new texts or calls. It’d been almost six months since she’d seen or talked to Amanda, but it wasn’t uncommon for her to resurface when in crisis. It also wasn’t uncommon for Leah to come to Amanda’s rescue, despite Emily’s insistence otherwise. Leah couldn’t count how many arguments with her roommate began with: Your thirty-year-old problematic half-sister isn’t your responsibility. With Amanda, you had two choices: get on board, or get out of the way. The good news was that once Amanda was inside the car, it usually only took a sympathetic ear to calm her down. Usually. Murphy’s front door banged open. Amanda, disheveled and looking as frantic as she sounded over the phone, clawed open the passenger door. “What took you so long?” Amanda fumed. “Drive!” Leah only stared. Amanda’s eyes were bloodshot, and her mascara had bled down her cheeks. She was barefoot—God only knew why—and her red dress clung so tightly to her curves that it was a wonder she could breathe. “Are you hurt?” Leah asked. “No. But we have to get to Deerfield.” “Is that a town?” Amanda ignored her as she tried to fasten her seatbelt. She couldn’t get it to latch, and when she looked up and saw Leah hadn’t started the car, her mouth dropped. “Didn’t you hear me? We have to go before they hurt Drew.” That statement might have been concerning from anyone but Amanda. “I can take you back to your apartment,” Leah said patiently, “but I’m not driving you to some random town for some new boyfriend who’s mixed up in something.” “Drew isn’t my boyfriend. He’s my son.” Leah took a calming breath. She didn’t know much about Amanda’s life before they’d met two and a half years ago, but she knew Amanda didn’t have kids. What Amanda did have was a recreational drug problem that usually involved hallucinogens. Sometimes a girl just needs to escape, was Amanda’s go-to answer when confronted. If Amanda stayed home while she was high, it might have been okay. But she never did, which meant friends and family always had to pick up the pieces. “Let me take you to Damon’s,” Leah said. It was the last place Leah wanted to go, but she wasn’t used to dealing with Amanda this far gone. “I don’t want to go to Dad’s; I need to go home.” “Right. I already told you I’d take you to your apartment. Are you still on Crandall Street—” “I don’t live there anymore. I haven’t for months . . . this is bullshit!” Amanda got out of the car, circled around the front, and made for the driver’s side door. Leah instinctively locked it and drew back. “Open up,” Amanda demanded. “If you won’t drive me, then move over.” “Get back in the passenger seat.” A pickup rolled into the lot and shuddered to a stop beside them. The guy behind the wheel wore an amused expression and a baseball cap that read: SHIT SHOW SUPERVISOR. Just in time, Leah mused. “Can you give me a ride?” Amanda asked the guy. He grinned. “What’s in it for me?” “Amanda,” Leah snapped, climbing out. To her relief, Amanda only swore at the guy before marching off. “Your loss,” he called after her. Leah caught up to Amanda, who was standing in the middle of the road, looking left to right. “What are you doing?” Leah asked. “I’ll find another ride.” “This is stupid. Let me take you to Damon’s.” “I already told you; I’m not going to Dad’s. I have to get to Deerfield.” “I don’t know where that is,” Leah said evenly, “and even if I did, that’s not a good idea. How about this? Let me take you back to my apartment. You can stay with me and Em for the night.” “I don’t need your pity. I need a ride. You think I wanted to call you? I had no choice. Jake didn’t answer, and then I tried Mom, then Dad... everyone ignored me like they always do.” “Who’s Jake?”

But one night Leah received a call from Amanda that she needed her to drive her to pick up her son--that he was in danger... Whoa... First of all, Leah did not know Amanda had a son, so was having trouble trying to piece what she'd said even after the call ended. But Amanda didn't look well and Lena didn't think she should take her... Later that night Amanda had been hit and killed in a car accident... Leah was left feeling that once again, a death had occurred and she didn't understand what had actually happened, so she began to investigate... by going to the funeral and looking to see if she could find a child...

She did see one, saw a man he was with and knew that he was the father. Later, as Leah was seeking answers, she got to know a little about him, discovered that he and Amanda had been living together, but that Drew was the son of his former wife, who had left them... Leah was feeling guilty, even though everybody with whom she talked said that it was an accident. Still, was the little boy really in danger. His father didn't seem to think so...

Adding to her confusion, Leah was soon to meet Parker, a guy that you couldn't help but like, except if he came out and told you that she was now his sister!

Yeah, her father had gotten married--they were on their honeymoon--and Parker called Leah because her father's house had been vandalized with spray paint. He asked if she could come over. He couldn't reach his mother or her father...They had said they would not be using phones... Leah could not believe that, though this was not really an emergency, that if there was they still could not reach them... They called the police and reported it, but, of course, if didn't look likely that whoever did it would be found...

But that was not the end of it, Soon a bouquet of flowers and a doll was left at the door of Leah's apartment... She lived with Em, her best friend, but had conflicting work schedules... There were a couple of guys who worked in their apartment house that maybe would know something... Soon lies were coming, confusing the issue... As Leah thought Irene, Amanda's mother could be involved since Leah had failed to respond to her daughter's call...

Lots of options and Leah was tracking each one down to question. Since Parker had already notified Leah of her father's remarriage, he began trying to reach her. He had cared for Amanda, calling them both his girls, even though Leah resented how it had all occurred...

Thing is, that the entire book was involved with trying to find out who did what to whom... It makes for a suspenseful hold on readers and indeed has a thrilling ending... Yeah, it all came out in the end, but somehow there was not a feeling of completion... a satisfaction that the story was effective. Sure, it was logical and understandable, but so many lies were occurring along the way that I realized that if people had no ulterior motives, then the plot would not have been possible... I felt it was more like today's world, where lies and "spinning" tales were so common that we no longer know what truth is... 

Leah and her father did agree to keep in touch, but the family dynamic was left hanging--not for the same reason, but still unsure--not back to normal... Is this what we face in today's world now? Where everybody seems to want to play the blame game and accuse somebody else who had little to do with a situation, just so the aggrieved individual can feel avenged? It's funny, I somehow felt cheated that lies told by various people were what makes it suspenseful and thrilling. A sad commentary, in my opinion, for today's world.

GABixlerReviews

Can The Planned Audience Affect Response of Readers? Thoughts on Reader Opinions--Genre, Characters, Timing

 

Even as I was reading this trilogy, I realized that my opinion had been tainted by outside the norm. The norm of reading a book in 2025 versus, say, 2015... Ten years... I have earlier claimed that books never get old, meaning that a book published in the 1900s, or even earlier, can be just as great for reading in any time period. Although, admittedly, I tend to prefer reading what comes to me in one way or another at the present time, rather than continuing to read favorite authors, who have continued a series year after year with the same set of characters. For a long time, my favorite author was J.D. Robb (Nora Roberts), but after following this series for years, I wanted new characters, new genres, different situations, and different writers... Sure, I would still enjoy a "Death" story, but I no longer ensure I buy them...

This particular set of books was recommended to me via email by another author who I respect. So I went out and purchased the trilogy, thinking I would have a "binge" read over a long weekend. Well, I did read them one right after the other, so I was fully familiar with the characters and action. By the end of my reading, however, I had formed an opinion about the trilogy which conflicted with the information on the books, at least for me... Days have passed and I cannot change how I "feel" about these books. Because, frankly, I read them in the year 2025, while chaos exists in my life, the nation, and the world. And, at least for me, my acceptance of going too far in relation to violence has changed... To give

an example that some of you might known more about, I had at least 5 years ago, turned away from watching Criminal Minds. Because of the move toward more and more extreme violence.

The genre of these books is said to be suspense thrillers. By the end of the first book I declared it of the dystopian genre and never changed my mind, because it did indeed get worse...

First, a definition: a very bad or unfair society in which there is a lot of suffering, especially an imaginary society in the future, after something terrible has happened; a description of such a society: The film is set in 2700 on an uninhabitable Earth, a dystopia covered in towers of garbage...

In these books, there is no other civilization other than 3 groups. Two of them are controlling mobs--one mob has been confined to Canada while the other one apparently owns America or Europe--maybe every place other than Canada. There is NO reference to anything out of the lives of those within the two mobs, except for one small group, which seems to be attempting to rid the world of a corruption. This small group is brought in over and over and over to fight the mob(s) members. Do you begin to understand why I considered it a dystopian world. With no reference of a world outside of these three groups, readers MUST assume that the world as we know it has been totally taken over by criminals. Frankly, just like we see that our government seems to be "mostly" taken over by criminals... working to destroy what exists and create a new world led by powerful moneyed people who seek only more power and money...

To complicate matters, each mob has people who are sent into the other mob to infiltrate, playing both sides, using false names... They appear to both be from the same country from which most of us automatically think of course when the word "mob" is used. So, moving into the 3 groups more deeply, we find that it is actually two families...

In this dystopian world, all trust is gone. Nobody trusts, except for a few who have become close... But even then, money can bring about a change of loyalty... Yes, loyalty becomes the primary controlling factor, even when there is no trust. Apparently anybody can pledge loyalty and get into one of the mobs (or both). Loyalty is clearly bought and family means nothing in this world. In fact...

The story begins by a couple who has received a computer drive. The husband is murdered, the wife has no idea what is on the drive. But everybody else seems to know and consider it a important acquisition. People quickly start to be killed as everybody begins to chase down what the information on the computer drive actually is...

That's essentially the storyline...And characters then proceed to form and reform loyalties, either through personal attachment, discovering that long-lost loves are not really dead, or paying big bucks to change sides. Criminality and death mean nothing to the men at the top of these groups...as long as control and money is retained, or increased for those who are already rich, but want more and more... And power is the source of all decisions--to murder or not to murder...

Three books full of merely changing characters, some getting killed, others replacing them, some changing loyalties for one reason or another, but no matter what, members of these two families are killed. There is no time for any reverence for the dead--for burial and mourning. Only time to ensure that whoever had changed loyalties had been discovered and...murdered... or disappeared...

Even in the third group, those in this group begin to wonder who can be trusted--for just cause... At one point there are about three individuals who feel they each are trustworthy--of each other only...

Ok, bottom line... Would I have had a different opinion of these three books if they were not so emblematic of what we see right now in America, where instability of everything, based on DEI, from education to financial institutions, to our government are being destroyed (or attempted) on a hourly/daily basis? Or a crushing, world-wide tariff madness that is affecting the working lives of thousands, if not millions?  No, I don't think so. Honing in on a small set of people which happens to be family allows us to recognize that something is seriously wrong in this storyline. There is little introduction of how exactly all of this hate and violence has been allowed to fester and grow, except from the standpoint of money and power... While the characters are highlighted differently in each book, there is no world outside of the mob members and/or those who are attempting to "help..." even while violence has taken those individuals out of the picture for a while... While the writer works harder than normal to ensure readers know who people are, given the duplicate names and different sides for which they may be fighting at any given time, I had to question, is this really worth the time to read, given that it is three books of, really, the same thing over and over? Fighting, Violence, Death, Demand for Loyalty, the realization that loyalty is bought not deserved... And...

Even the few spots of love cannot override the devastation and overkill of death and destruction as the primary activity... This was a downer from the word Go... When suspense is claimed, but is nothing but who is this individual loyal to...today... and thriller equals killing only to be killing those you hate... I have to say that the level of dystopia in a destroyed world reigns... And escape is the only answer if you've lived through the ongoing murders that constantly are occurring... Much like I'm doing right now in America, I'll fight to escape this madness...

When you recognize that you are afraid, fearful for either your life or loss of any kind to you or your family-- Worry that you are no longer in a safe and secure environment where you can have some semblance of trust with your fellowman-- Then you must realize that something is very wrong. If mobs or cults have formed and have become so powerful in the world, that nothing beyond the resultant immediate fear is known, and, as a human you feel as if nothing can help, we, as humans, naturally turn to someone to hold on to. We cannot live in isolation, afraid of our neighbors... Not knowing who we can trust... If you have any type of concern related to trust, forced loyalties, or actually seen these happening in real time, then these books will also confirm that living like this is just wrong... THIS is the value of reading these books. For shock value! We cannot allow our world to change to such an extent that there is no other place to turn--that there is nothing but hate for another group who hates you just as much. If you do not see what could happen... If you say to yourself or others within your family that something like this trilogy could never happen--and, yes, it has been said--then, just consider reading these books... Allow yourself to conceive of nothing but a few people, continuing to fight, while cultish people who have the same goals of money and power... or hatred for anything different from them... Or realize that many seek the money that goes with power most of all... You will realize that each one of us need to survive, have basic needs met--food, clothing shelter... Maslow's Hierarchy shows this "reality" best and illustrates my thoughts...

Unless our basic needs are met--specifically if you lose your job during the present crisis of administration destruction, you will move backward to the point where your basic needs cannot be met and fear sets in... Each individual or parent worries about food and housing... Many never go beyond those two levels... Yet, this theory has been accepted that if we help all individuals move upward, capitalism will automatically improve because of the individual's ability to find self-actualization... When we recognize that these first two even interfere with our need for love and companionship, we begin to see, perhaps, why divorce is so common... Consider:

We have a need for love, companionship and trust for somebody else so that we do not feel alone... Then, and only then, can you read these books as just fiction... 

Or has dystopia finally taken over because not enough people are fighting greed, power, even incompetence, while using power, greed, violence, and even religion to justify death or disappearing to all who are not loyal to the last man standing???

I'm a person who believes in timing--and the audience--What a book provides to each individual can and will affect where we see our lives in relation to our needs... Right now, many are concerned about having a job or being fired for no reason... Or being taken off the streets because you have tattoos or are not white... our basic needs are not being met. We are caught. We know we can't possibly go backward in our lives...But somebody with power and money, who wants more, has placed criminal actions above all else in deciding what is to happen... It is simply not sustainable  in any world... Fiction, Non-Fiction, Or a world created by violence and criminal actions leaving all within a dystopian world of chaos... Reading these books made it very clear what must be done...

GABixlerReviews

Peter Darley's New Trilogy! INVINCIBLE - Season 1 Never Previously Published!

Yes, I did have this written in draft form...I have NO idea why I didn't publish--My guess is that it was the beginning of my needed surgeries! But, as we all know, Books Never Are Outdated! Sorry, Peter...

A spotlight fell onto the stage at an angle that revealed a lithe, female figure in silhouette. She raised her arms over her head as the intro to a classic rock track began. Ryan recognized it immediately. The Hooters. And We Danced. The guitars began and the lights revealed Laura wearing a glitter-studded leotard. She lowered her arms and spun with dazzling speed. Ryan’s jaw dropped. He’d never seen her in such contour-hugging attire before, and her physical condition stunned him. Despite her months of tireless training, he’d never expected this. She’s so beautiful.

Prologue: Ryan Scott gazed at the floor of the subway train, too uncomfortable to make eye-contact with anyone. The general public was all around him, causing him to shudder in harmony with the low rumble of the train. It was a world in which he had no place. His experience of life had taught him that much. What are you doing? This isn’t who you are. He knew he was just trying to make something of his life. Everything he’d ever touched had been taken away. Why couldn’t he just be himself? Why did it have to be this way?

He felt perspiration on his brow as he gripped a black, leather briefcase with a sense of loathing. His designer gray suit and tie made him feel as though he was walking around in someone else’s skin. The train came to a halt at his stop. His heart raced as he waited for the last commuter to get off before exiting. Walking through the subway station, it felt like a force field was holding him back. Commuters brushed passed him as they went about their business. His fear wouldn’t go away, but he knew he had to fight it. He needed a vocation. He made it through the front entrance and stepped out onto a Chicago street.

This couldn’t really be happening. He had to be having a nightmare. He recalled the four years he’d studied at law school—a subject he hated. Going against his own heart, he’d invested himself in something he didn’t want to do in order to thwart the terrible curse that plagued him. He’d reached the top of his class within his first year, picking up several best student awards along the way. The other students looked up to him, and he wanted to connect with them. But he couldn’t bond with anyone. He just kept his distance...

~~~

Ryan Scott was cursed, or was he? Even as he was broodingly walking to his work site, it blew up...and he spent most of the time on top of a mother and child, to save them...When it was safe, he got up and walked away... The Influencer had spoken. No matter how he prepared and worked to try something meaningful in his life, he was stopped... Finally, he took  drugs, drank alcohol enough to kill and worked to commit suicide... Even at that, he failed... 

But the stories Ryan had told her were beginning to peak her fears like never before. She’d gone into it fearlessly in the beginning, trying not to show her concern. Gradually, the memories came back, and it was getting to her. She’d experienced it in the TV studio, and again with the death of her uncle. She knew Ryan wasn’t crazy. “OK, let’s do it,” he said. As they walked into the run-down establishment, she noticed the decor didn’t look like it had been attended to since the 1980s. The retro rock music coming from the radio in the background seemed to fit. A young couple waited at the counter. “I like it,” Ryan said. “What? This place?” “The song.” Don’t stop . . . believin’ . . . Ryan headed for the deli aisle and picked up a few sandwiches. “Are you OK with these?” She looked over what he was holding—ham and cheese, chicken salad, a pastrami on rye, and a tuna mayonnaise. It was all very basic, but she accepted this was the nature of life on the road. “They’ll keep us going,” she said.

Two years had gone by since the explosion that destroyed the law firm where Scott had been headed... Since then, he had discovered that, for whatever reason, he could not die... It was his latest drug and drinking celebration that had brought him to the hospital, as a suicide, and he had met Dr. Richard Logan... They were able to bond like no other and  Ryan Scott started on a new, almost unbelievable life that changed his future...

“For whatever reason, Mr. Scott wanted to leave this world.” “I don’t believe that. I have never believed that. What people call suicide, I call cultural homicide. This sick, diseased, bankrupt world makes them do it. They become convinced they have no place and are driven to despair. He didn’t take his own life. We killed him.” He was barely conscious of the outrage in his tone. “I understand,” she said. “I was with you all through what happened back then, remember?” He looked at her with an apologetic heart and tried to maintain his composure. “I know. It just never goes away. Every time it happens, I relive it again.” 

Would you be able to adjust to knowing that you cannot die? What would you do? Be like the main character and try to kill yourself over and over... Or would you get past that first reaction--stop, pause, and consider just what has happened and where to go from here? Do I try to do good for all of mankind? Do I begin robbing banks because I could always get away from anybody who tried to stop me? 

So what if another person comes into the picture? Would that make a difference in your decision-making? Ryan had moved into an isolated place away from the chaos and started looking around him, seeing the people suffering from one illness or another... And he saw that often poor people couldn't even afford to purchase the medicines that were already available! Could something good come out of all of this? But... What About The Influence?!

I'll tell you one thing, I'm anxious to see what happens in the next two parts of this extraordinary  suspense thriller trilogy! Do check it out!

GABixlerReviews

Have You Read Mary Lynn Plaisance, Writer Extraordinaire? And My Friend! Here's The Latest of Hers I just Finished! The Voice Behind the Small Attic Door

 

I have a stack of TBR Books for Mary Lynn Plaisance on my piano top... They await until I can figure out just how to get back to reading paperbacks with my new eye prescription inserts. So far, even adjusting to Kindle is not as easy as it once was... Soooo, when I got an email from Author's Den about one of Mary's books, I zoomed out to Amazon* and read it in a day...

Fortunately, the suspense starts right at the beginning, so that by the time I was reading into the night, I was fully aware...and had met...

Piddle Paddle Waddle.”

Marion and Walter brought their distraught daughter to their home from the church. Susan was clearly in shock. The doctor was on his way, a psychiatrist and neighbor, and a friend of the family for decades. She needed to be sedated. The tragic event after the wedding was a nightmare, and they wondered how Susan would make it through such a horrifying experience. When Dr. Jenkins arrived, he ordered the paramedic to give Susan a shot of valium to calm her shaking body. The paramedic unit stayed parked in front of the house well into the night. Susan had been crying since they left the church and no one could calm her down. Still in her wedding dress, Marion and Walter brought her upstairs to the room she had as a child. She would rest much better in her quiet room upstairs than in any one of the rooms downstairs filled with grieving family members. Marion and Walter needed time to think about what they would do for Susan. As they closed the door to her room, they saw that she fell asleep holding on to her big, white, stuffed bear that she named Titus. She had him since she was only five years old. Her stuffed white bear was the same size as her when she was five years old, and he was her special friend ever since then. When anything went wrong, she held Titus close to her heart. Standing in the upstairs hallway, Dr. Jenkins told Marion and Walter, “Today will stay in Susan’s mind for quite a long time. None of you will be able to console her. Just let her do what she wants, short of harming herself, and time will take its course in her recovery. There’s nothing more to do.” Marion and Walter were still in tears. “I don’t think she will ever be well again,” said Marion. “She wanted to get married since she was a child. She always played bride and groom, but there was never a groom. Her room was filled with toys, and she had so many little party dresses of all colors, but she loved the white dresses most. She was always the bride.” Marion’s tears could not stop flowing down her cheeks while she spoke.

“Like I said, this will take years for her to get over, if ever. She will need therapy.I’ll help you if you want. If not, I can leave you with the name of a good therapist who may be able to help her later. As this event sinks into her mind, it will take a while for her to accept what happened. She will be in denial, and then she will get angry. After the anger comes depression, before she can accept what happened. All of this is normal when anyone goes through grief.” 

Marion cried more than before. “Thank you Doctor Jenkins. Please help Susan. She knows you.”

“I’ll do all I can to help her. Give Susan these pills when she wakes up, as needed. Just give her time. Lots of time.”

“Thank you so much, Doc.” Walter grabbed the doctor in an embrace of sorrow. There were no words to say. Nothing like this had ever happened before, and this was surely unexpected.

Marion and Walter went downstairs to talk to the family and Susan’s friends. They ate what the caterers brought to their home from the wedding reception. Everyone shared stories of the morning and mingled to find some comfort. Both sides of the family were still in shock. After four o’clock, the caterers took their equipment, and friends and family cleaned up everything in the kitchen and living room. Dr. Jenkins stayed for a while longer to make sure Susan was okay. Harry, Velma, and Gladys stayed to help overnight.

The thought of such a bazaar accident was beyond comprehension. Nothing like this ever entered anyone’s mind.

Susan stayed asleep in her room. Susan’s room with the small attic door...

~~~

Susan had been looking forward to being married since a very early age. Part of that was because her parents owned a boutique where she was surrounded by beautiful, fanciful clothes. And she even had the opportunity to wear dresses in their commercials! Dozens of dresses she had worn for parties were now tucked away carefully in their attic.

In fact, Susan's parents doted on their only child and had given her anything she wanted, so that, as she grew older and had met the man of her dreams, they even bought a home to live in pending the marriage ceremony.

Author's Wedding Day!

And, indeed, the wedding was

beautiful with Susan in her $30,000 dream dress that was made to her exact specifications, even if she did have trouble getting into and out of her limousine... And everybody would enjoy those funny pictures and all the photographer was taking--as he had done for every moment of the event!

But once Mike had helped her push the tull to allow the door to close, he anxiously ran around to his side of the limo...

Nobody saw the car coming... And then it came into view, curving wildly, fast, and clearly out of control. And, actually, there was no driver... Susan saw the car push Mike away from the car and she swiftly turned trying to get out, while her mother rushed up, trying to keep her in the car... Trying to protect her child from seeing that her, now, husband...was...dead...

Nobody knew how to deal with such a tragedy. Emergency vehicles swiftly appeared to help in many ways, one of which was to help take the family to their home. Many later gathered at Susan's parents home and the food from the reception site was carried in... 

Titus and Susan

But Susan was asleep with Titus, her protector and friend since the age of 5 when he came to first visit and stayed. She had always hugged him tightly as she fell asleep each night. But, now, she clung to him day and night, sleeping mostly, and never leaving her room, ignoring food and anybody who wanted her to come out.

Her parents' bedroom was near Susan's and, as her father got up the next morning, he heard talking from Susan's room. He knocked, then looked in. Susan was hugging Titus and sleeping...

Hearing talking continued, but Susan, even if awake, said she wasn't talking to anybody.  When asked about calling any of her friends, she said she had lost her phone. Was she talking to herself?

Finally, one morning she woke up as if after a long sleep. She greeted her mother and told her she had to hurry this morning because she had a test...Susan, according to her doctor who came immediately, sadly indicated that she had apparently pushed out all recent memories and was back, safe, in school... But, even then, she began to talk back to her father with snide remarks. Soon both parents found her now abusive, after there never having been situations like these in the past. 

And the talking went on...

The intriguing part about this Louisiana Author is that you will never know what to expect when you open one of her books.  Readers will quickly pick up on the suspense as the book starts. We have already raised the question--well, who is the voice that lives in the attic? Perhaps Susan had an imaginary friend and in her loss of memory has begun to talk to that individual from her past... I love how the author pulls us along as, seemingly, events begin to not happen as planned. 

What we do know is that something happened to Susan after her husband was, essentially, run over by an empty car! Has she had a breakdown? Trauma that has affected her mind and reality?

Well, to know what happened to Susan, you'll have to meet Piddle Paddle Waddle... You'll find her in the video above if you look carefully... So, I just have one question for all of you? Are you a kind person, who does acts of kindness?

If not. Beware...

GABixlerReviews 

*A number of proofreading issues was found in the book format; however, they did not interfere with my enjoyment