Spotlight: A Merciful Silence by Kendra Elliott

Message from Kendra Elliot: Mercy’s road to the FBI

Mercy Kilpatrick, the heroine from my newest release A Merciful Silence, was raised by anti-government preppers in Central Oregon. She grew up learning to live off the land, avoid law enforcement, and never trust the government. When she was eighteen, she and her father had a falling out that forced Mercy from the home.

She entered the regular world but could never leave her prepping roots behind. She eventually joined the FBI—thereby becoming the two things that her father hated most. Estranged from her family, Mercy keeps one foot in the regular world and another in her hidden past. She can’t help but prepare for the end of the world. No one at the FBI knows she escapes to her mountain hideaway every weekend where she stocks firewood, food, fuel, and medical supplies.

An FBI domestic terrorism case pulls her to back to her hometown where she must face her family for the first time in fifteen years. The case takes place in a survivalist world with which she is all too familiar, and suspects some of her family may be involved.

Release Date: June 19, 2018
Publisher: Montlake Romance

Summary

For FBI agent Mercy Kilpatrick, returning to rural Oregon has meant coming to terms with her roots. Raised as a prepper, Mercy is now relying on her survivalist instincts to defend her town from the people the law can’t reach. But this time, an investigation calling up a dark past for her and police chief Truman Daly may be hitting too close to home.

A rainstorm has uncovered the remains of five people—a reprise of the distinctive slaughter of two families twenty years ago. Except the convicted killer is in prison. Is this the case of a sick copycat, or is the wrong man behind bars? One person might have the answer. The lone survivor of the decades-old crimes has returned to town still claiming that she can’t remember a thing about the night she was left for dead. As the search for the truth becomes more dangerous, Mercy fears that the traumatized woman may not have buried her memories at all. She might be keeping them a secret. And there’s a price to be paid for revealing them.

Excerpt

Her GPS took her on a wet, winding trip thirty miles out of Bend. Mercy revered privacy, and it appeared Britta Vale did the same. The terrain was flat, with clumps of huge trees and fields of scattered volcanic rock. She took the final turn off the two-lane road and was pleasantly surprised to find a well-maintained gravel driveway. A wood fence lined one side of the drive, and Mercy idly wondered if Britta kept cows or sheep in the field. A wide creek rapidly flowed through the pasture, full of the recent rains. A few minutes later she stopped in front of an old white farmhouse. Fields flanked the house on two sides, and a small ancient grove of fruit trees was to the east. 

The paint flaked from the two-story building, and large pieces of railing were missing from the wraparound deck. Lace curtains appeared at most of the windows, and a newer Ford pickup was parked next to the home. As Mercy stepped out of her Tahoe, faint barking greeted her, and she spotted a black lab inside, watching through a tall window next to the front door, alerting the residents that company had arrived. Its wagging tail defied the belligerent barks. 

Overall, Mercy liked the home. It felt shy but friendly. Sequestered but welcoming. 

The door opened and a woman appeared. In one hand she gripped the lab’s collar. With the other she balanced a rifle against her shoulder. 

Not threatening, but making her stance clear. 

Mercy approved. And stopped moving forward. Mercy stood with her right shoulder and hip slightly farther back and casually held her hands out in front of her stomach, the palms up. A nonaggressive pose, but she was ready to move to the gun in her shoulder holster if needed. “Britta Vale?” 

“Who wants to know?” The woman’s tone was polite but direct. Her long hair was black. The flat-black, obviously dyed tone. Blunt-cut bangs just above Britta’s eyebrows gave her a no-nonsense look. 

“I’m Special Agent Mercy Kilpatrick from the Bend FBI office. You’re welcome to call them to verify me.” 

“Take three steps closer.” 

Mercy took three measured steps, her hands still exposed. She felt the weight of her weapon at her side and watched Britta for any warning movements. The woman stood perfectly still, the dog’s wagging tail a contrast. At this distance Mercy could meet Britta’s gaze. The woman had light-blue eyes and skin that looked as if it’d never seen the sun. She also had a huge tattoo that wrapped around the front of her neck. Mercy couldn’t read it but wondered how painful the process had been. She swallowed, imagining tiny sharp needles jabbing at the tender skin on her throat. 

The woman released the dog, who instantly sat, its dark eyes still locked on Mercy. 

“Are you here about Grady Baldwin?” 

“Yes,” Mercy answered. 

“Is he out? I’m supposed to be notified if he gets out. No one has said anything to me.” Britta’s voice shot up an octave as the words spilled out of her mouth, terror and anger flashing in her eyes. Her fingers tightened on the butt of the rifle, and Mercy tensed. 

“He’s not out and he’s not getting out.” 

The woman lowered her chin a notch, and her shoulders moved as she exhaled. “I have nightmares about police vehicles abruptly showing up at my home, trying to get me to safety. They’re always too late.” She nodded at Mercy’s Tahoe. “You’re clearly armed, and you have government plates, so you understand my reaction.” 

“I do. You are Britta, right?” The woman acted like a survivor, but Mercy wanted to be certain. 

“I am. Why are you here?” 

“Yesterday we uncovered five bodies. Possibly a family—we aren’t certain about that. But each one of them had been struck in the mouth. Their teeth and jaws shattered.” 

The pale woman went a shade whiter as she slapped a hand across her mouth, and the dog whined, leaning hard against her thigh.

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About the Author

Kendra Elliot has landed on the Wall Street Journal bestseller list multiple times and is the award-winning author of the Bone Secrets and Callahan & McLane series, as well as the Mercy Kilpatrick novels: A Merciful Death, A Merciful Truth, and A Merciful Secret. Kendra is a three-time winner of the Daphne du Maurier Award, an International Thriller Writers finalist, and an RT Award finalist. She has always been a voracious reader, cutting her teeth on classic female heroines such as Nancy Drew, Trixie Belden, and Laura Ingalls. She was born, raised, and still lives in the rainy Pacific Northwest with her husband and three daughters, but she looks forward to the day she can live in flip-flops. Visit her at www.kendraelliot.com

Spotlight: A Lot Like Home by Kat Cantrell

From USA Today bestseller Kat Cantrell, comes a small-town romance series with a touch of magic.

Welcome to Superstition Springs, town in progress.

After being kicked out of the Navy, ex-SEAL Caleb Hardy needs a new mission, and rebuilding an old Texas mining town into a tourist attraction is it. If he does it right, Superstition Springs will become a new home for his band of world-weary teammates... and maybe a place to atone for the horrific mistake they'd made in the line of duty.

Havana Nixon has other plans for the quirky dot on the map she never could quite call home. The town is falling apart. Struggling. Solution: convince the folks to sell out. Except she didn't count on the infuriating (and gorgeous, not that she'd ever tell him that) obstacle who plunks down in the middle of her land deal and acts like the careful barriers she's erected against the world don't exist. Thank goodness she's arrived armed with a fiancé in tow, never mind that it's all a sham designed to keep one of her aunt's famous love predictions from coming true.

But in a mystical place like Superstition Springs, nothing ever goes as expected, least of all a head-to-head between two people with opposing plans, who spark every time they get in each other's way. If they could just unbend long enough to compromise, they might figure out they both want the same thing--forever.

Excerpt

The moment Havana slid into the passenger seat, Caleb discovered that sin did indeed have a scent and she’d taken a bath in it. The punch took his breath, and his eyes crossed with the effort to keep her effect on him from being broadcast in a very graphic way. Never had he had such a physical reaction to the way a woman smelled. Maybe it was a simple matter of replacing Rowe in that seat, who had called shotgun for the entire drive from the base in Coronado. The lady constituted a class A upgrade over his brother, that was for sure.

“Where to?” he wheezed and cleared his throat as he started the engine.

“Just over the hill. Drive down Potter’s and take a left.” When he cocked a brow at her, she laughed. “You’re going to want to learn your way around if you aim to stay, city boy. All our roads are named after the family who owns the house built on it.”

“Let me know when we get to an actual road then, okay?” he said tongue in cheek as the Yukon bounced over three deep ruts in a row. Improvements to the thoroughfares wouldn’t be out of line before anyone did a thing to the town itself.

Caleb headed north, opposite how he’d driven into town, so this was new terrain. Though it looked pretty much the same. As he took the curve in the road and the SUV rolled over a hill, the land spread out beneath the road, shimmering in the sun. A ribbon of dark blue water snaked through a bed of earth, and as he got closer, the water got clearer.

Not the same. Not the same at all.

“That’s the Colorado,” Havana murmured. “Not the Grand Canyon one. The Texas one, but it has some pretty cool things about it too. Park over there and I’ll show you.”

The landscape grew greener and denser the closer to the water they got, popping with color against the blue sky that stretched in all directions for a million miles. A rock formation the color of sand jutted out of the ground, and without hesitation, she clambered up onto the smallest one, then the next until she’d almost scaled it. No fear in that one. Not to be outdone, he followed her easily, drawing up next to her where she had perched on the tallest rock.

A large, clear pool had formed where the river had cut away limestone, creating a perfect, well-hidden swimming hole. The water was a gorgeous color, almost the blue of the Caribbean or Thailand, and with sunlight glinting off the surface, it wasn’t hard to imagine you’d been transported to someplace else. As if you’d been cut off from the real world and sent to a… a fairy realm. Or something that sounded less dumb.

The light breeze caught a lock of Havana’s bright red hair and flung it over his arm, binding them together as they surveyed the outcropping from their high vantage point.

Something grabbed him by the throat, and it got hard to swallow.

Beyond the pool, the landscape sloped away to become slightly hilly but also stark in a way that made you think about your place in the world. Some areas in the Middle East were like that too, but Caleb had always felt like an outsider there. Here the land welcomed him, embracing him in a way he couldn’t quite put into words.

There was something… extra. Something he couldn’t deny.

That mystical element he hadn’t wanted to believe existed—this was it. He could feel it seeping from the stone through his soles and up into his bones. From the moment the teams had decided they were done with a few extraneous SEALs who’d become a liability, he’d needed a place to land where he could believe again. Havana had unwittingly given that to him.

“Welcome to Superstition Springs,” she said and spread her hands wide to encompass the entire pool.

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About the Author

USA Today Bestselling Author Kat Cantrell read her first Harlequin novel in third grade and has been scribbling in notebooks since she learned to spell. What else would she write but romance? When she’s not writing about characters on the journey to happily ever after, she can be found at a taekwondo tournament, watching Big Bang Theory or dancing with her kids to Duran Duran and Red Hot Chili Peppers. Kat, her husband and their two boys live in North Texas. She was a former Harlequin So You Think You Can Write winner and a former RWA® Golden Heart® finalist for best unpublished series contemporary manuscript.

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Spotlight: Dark Water by J.A. Armitage

Dark Water
J.A. Armitage
(Reverse Fairytales, #4)
Publication date: June 19th 2018
Genres: Fairy Tales, Young Adult

You think you know the story of The Little Mermaid…
A tragic accident on the eve of her eighteenth birthday leads Princess Erica to a chance encounter with a mysterious man on the beach. When he turns up at her birthday party and whisks her off her feet, she knows she has to find out everything about him, but why won’t he speak and where does he keep disappearing to?
Ari knows he’s crossed a line by mingling with the land humans, but how can he resist the beautiful princess whose life he saved? He must decide whether to stay on land and become like her, or continue to live without her in the depths of the ocean.
Trapped in a centuries long battle between his kind and hers, his decision will rock both their kingdoms.
With a sea witch that needs repaying and the small matter of Erica’s engagement to someone else, Ari knows the odds are stacked against him.
Dark Water is the fourth in the Reverse Fairytale series and the first Little Mermaid retelling by USA Today bestselling author J.A.Armitage. Take everything you think you know about fairytales and turn it on its head.

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EXCERPT:

CHAPTER ONE

“May God bless her and all who sail on her.”

I cleared my throat, hoping I’d said it correctly, and gripped the bottle of champagne, terrified of letting it go too early or, worse still, missing the ship entirely.

Beyond the ship, the ocean shimmered in the midday sun. Diamond-like sparkles of light bounced off the calm cerulean water—water that looked so inviting, I wanted nothing more than to jump in, to surrender to the balmy ripples. Of course, wanting it and doing it were two different things. First of all, I couldn’t swim, and secondly, my mother would pitch a fit if I took another step closer to the dock edge. She was already a bag of nerves from today’s event.

I looked behind me, needing reassurance from my parents. This was my first official royal engagement, and I was terrified of messing it up. My father beamed at me with pride while my mother gave me a thin smile. I could see the fear in her eyes although she was doing her best to hide it. I was amazed she’d come at all. The ocean positively terrified her. My father’s hand was almost white with how hard my mother was squeezing it. Next to them, my little brother, Anthony, was picking his nose and examining the treasure he found up there. Not for the first time I was reminded how fortunate it was that I was the first in line to the throne.

Beside me, my life-long best friend nudged me to let go of the bottle. Officially, his title was Sir Hayden Harrington-Blythe, but to me, he was just Hayden. He’d been my first crush since our first day in kindergarten when he’d pulled on my pigtails, and I’d stamped on his foot. Despite our unpromising start, over the years we’d turned into friends. My crush on him was long since over, and his pigtail pulling days were long gone, but somehow, our friendship had survived.

“You do know you are supposed to let go of the bottle right?” whispered Hayden in my ear. I gave him a look I only ever reserved for him and lifted the bottle. Letting go, I watched it swing on a length of string, arcing towards the majestic ship’s wooden hull. It made a tinkling sound as it smashed against the side of the ship, scattering glass all over the paved dock. I couldn’t help thinking it was a waste of good champagne and that it would be better served at the ball being held in honor of my birthday in a couple of days’ time. Still, I felt invigorated by the salty smell of the ocean, the atmosphere of a thousand happy people coming out to see the launch, and the fact that I now had a boat that bore my name. I was feeling as excited as I could hope to feel, second only to being allowed to actually go out on the damn thing.

The Erica Rose’s white sails flapped in the breeze below the official flag of Trifork as if she were eager to be off, out onto the ocean. I couldn’t blame her. To sail on the ocean was a lifelong dream of mine. Ever since I could remember, I’d looked out of my bedroom window toward the ocean and dreamed of the day that I’d be able to disappear beyond the rolling waves toward the horizon.

It was a dream that had never, and would never, be realized as long as my parents were in charge. For a kingdom so well-known for its naval and merchant vessels, my parents were ridiculously strict about letting me go near the ocean. This was the closest I’d gotten in the whole eighteen years of my life, and I had a full team of palace guards surrounding me, stopping me from taking one step closer to the water’s edge than I had to. It was all because of my mother, of course. My father might have been the one that ruled Trifork, but in the palace, my mother was the one that wore the pants, so to speak. If my mother said I couldn’t go near the ocean, then my father wasn’t going to argue with her. However, today was a special day, and not even my mother could come up with a good enough reason for us not to be here. She might have been absolutely petrified, but she was the queen, a duty she held above everything, even crippling panic.

Everybody clapped as the wooden ship began pulling up its anchor, its crew readying themselves to set sail.

I took a deep breath and inhaled the salty air. Above the excited chatter of the crowd, seagulls cawed to each other as they flew overhead looking for an easy snack. Oh, how I envied them and their freedom.

My father managed to extricate himself from my mother’s vice-like grip and joined me on the dock’s edge. My poor mother’s face turned even more ashen, and she had to grip a nearby railing instead to save herself from fainting. It was almost cruel, living so close to the ocean and being so frightened of it. I saw her eyes darting past my father and me to the ocean behind us as though it could somehow climb above the dock and swallow us whole. I don’t doubt it could on a stormy day, but today the skies were blue, and the sea was calm.

“We here in Trifork have a rich sailing heritage, one of which I am immensely proud,” began my father into the microphone that had been set up for the occasion. “Today is a big day for me, both as a king and a father. As you all know, my daughter, the princess Erica Rose, will turn eighteen in just two days’ time. Her first official engagement was supposed to be at the ball, but she begged me to be allowed to launch this ship. Being the dutiful father I am, I agreed.” He paused at this point waiting for a laugh. When he got it, he carried on. “This is my birthday gift to you, dear Erica. I know you’ve always had a fondness for the sea and so this ship not only bears your name but also belongs to you.”

I blinked a couple of times, unsure if what I was hearing was true. The ship was mine? I wasn’t allowed to dip my toes in the shallow waves at the beach, but I was allowed to own a ship?

I gazed up at the huge galleon. “She’s mine?” Hope rose in my chest that I might, for the first time in my life, be able to go out on the ocean. My parents had never so much as let me sail in a dinghy before now, let alone go on a ship.

“She’s all yours, sweetheart. As part of our fleet and a working ship, she will be taken out by her captain, Captain Jackson. But when she’s back in Trifork, you will be able to see her whenever you want.”

“See her?”

“Yes,” beamed my father, oblivious to the disappointment I was feeling. Only see her? I didn’t want a ship to look at. I’d spent my entire life watching the ships of Trifork sail in and out of the harbor. I wanted to sail to foreign lands, to feel the sea breeze upon my cheek. I wanted to know what it felt like to roll over the gentle waves with the vastness of the ocean the only thing in view.

My mother caught my disappointment though. She could read me like a book. An elegant woman with a sharp tongue and an even sharper sense of style, she swallowed her terror and took a few steps toward me, toward the ocean. She walked tall and calmly, but a slight tremor in her step gave her away.

“Aren’t you happy with your new ship?”

“Yes ma’am,” I lied. What was the point of having a ship if I wasn’t allowed on it?

She flicked her eyes past me, once again, toward the ocean. What was it she was looking for? Her eyes snapped back to me. “You know my feelings on you going near the sea, Erica. It’s a dangerous place. I nearly drowned when I was about your age.” She took my hand and pulled me a couple of steps toward her—away from the dock’s edge.

I’d heard the story a million times. Every time I even hinted at wanting to go near the sea, she’d dredge up the same story about how she nearly drowned when she was younger. I wasn’t in the mood to hear it again.

The ship was cast off, the gangplank raised. My ship was about to go on an adventure I could only dream of. The wind caught the sails and the majestic vessel began to move, her crew waving at us as she inched away from the dockside.

My father clapped me on the back, a beaming smile on his face. Even my mother, who usually had a face like a prune when it came to anything to do with water, had found her smile again. I glanced over at Hayden. He knew I was disappointed. I talked about nothing but the ocean with him. He loved the water as I did, but unlike me, he could go out onto it whenever he wanted. He even had his own boat. It was nowhere near as grand as the Erica Rose, but at least, he was allowed to sail in it.

He flicked his eyes almost imperceptibly towards the ship. I arched a brow.

“Do it,” he mouthed silently and cast his eyes towards the ship once again.

He wanted me to jump on the ship! He was actually daring me to do it. Thoughts of all the silly childhood pranks and adventures he’d led me into filled my mind. Hayden was the epitome of an irresistible bad idea. I followed his eye line to where the gangplank had been pulled up. The gate was still open, but it wouldn’t be for long. The ship was already a foot away from the dock and moving swiftly towards the open sea. I had seconds to make a decision.

My heart hammered, and adrenaline took over. Without thinking too hard, I ran from my parents, barged past the palace guards, and jumped as far as I could right off the dock. The ship had moved much faster than I’d anticipated, and I missed the gate by a long shot, and instead of landing on the ship, I plunged head first into the sea.

All I could hear were my mother’s screams as the water crowded in around me.

The water that had looked so warm and inviting when I’d been standing on the dock was actually a lot colder than I’d imagined, and as I scrambled for air, its icy grip took my breath away

Mouthfuls of briny water flowed into my mouth, causing me to choke as I tried desperately to keep above the water’s surface. In one terrifying instant, I realized what it was that my mother had been keeping me from for all these years. As I’d never been allowed in water deeper than a bath, I’d never learned how to swim. It occurred to me now that this wasn’t exactly my finest moment.

The dress I’d had picked out for me, a knee length cotton blue dress was perfect for looking smart and launching a ship. It was utterly useless as a floatation device. The heavy, waterlogged fabric weighed me down, making it even harder to try to keep my head above water.

Beside me, I heard a splash. I looked over to see a red and white life ring bobbing close by with a rope attached to it. On the other end of the rope, the Erica Rose’s crew shouted at me to grab hold. After I’d managed to pull myself through it, they heaved me up and pulled me over the side of the boat.

A group of worried faces peered down at me. One of the men reached a hand down to help me up. As I righted myself, my dress dripped ocean water all over the deck and tightened around me. I felt so uncomfortable in the soggy outfit, but when I saw how far from the dock we’d already moved, excitement flooded through me. The fear I’d felt just moments before dissolved, leaving me feeling exhilarated. I was on a ship for the first time in my life, and we were sailing away from the dock.

With giddy excitement, I gripped a railing. On the edge of the dock, my parents shouted and waved for us to come back. My heart fell as I caught the expression on my mother’s face. Her usual stern expression had contorted to one of absolute fear, and she wasn’t trying to hide it anymore. Her screams pierced the air, her usual stoic facade dropped completely as she tore at my father who was desperately trying to pull her back from the edge of the dock.

Her fear of falling into the ocean was obviously smaller than losing one of her children to it.

My stomach churned as I realized the severity of my actions. I’d only wanted to go out to sea. I didn’t want to hurt my mother in the process. I was going to be in the worst kind of trouble for this little stunt, and as we floated further and further out to sea, the more I realized that the adventure was not worth it.

Captain Jackson, a tall man with a perfectly groomed black mustache and oiled down hair greeted me with a salute. I’d never been saluted before. Bowed to and curtseyed aplenty, but a salute was new to me. I raised my hand and saluted back, unsure of the etiquette.

“I’m going to try to turn the ship back, your highness, but it may take a little time to adjust the sails. The wind is not optimal right now. There’s a squall coming, and I’d hoped to get far enough away to miss it.”

I glanced out to the horizon. The seamless blue sky was darkening, and the sea below it matched its threatening color. Where had that come from? Only seconds before, the weather had been as perfect as anyone could wish for.

“Yes, please turn around.” My heart dropped as I realized that my adventure was over before it had even started, and I’d gotten nothing out of it except to embarrass myself in front of thousands of onlookers and terrify my poor mother.

I looked back over to the shoreline. My parents and all the onlookers were barely dots on the horizon now. To my right, I could see the public beach to which people flocked in the summer months. Beyond that were magnificent white cliffs that I’d heard plenty about but never actually seen before as they were only visible from the sea. To my left, the coast was much rockier, and here was where the royal castle stood. Only a wide promenade separated the rocks from the castle. It looked so dark and imposing with its granite grey towers; I barely recognized it from this angle.

“Why don’t you go to my cabin and get changed out of those wet clothes. I’ll have one of my crew show you where it is.”

Captain Jackson swiveled on his toe and left me alone, feeling terrible. I’d not paused to consider the crew or the captain, and now they were going to have to abort their mission. I could chalk up a few more people to the list of those I’d disappointed. With a sigh, I walked to the other side of the deck to look out at the vast ocean. In the distance, the sea turned black and churned ominously almost as though that part of the ocean was alive and out to get us. It was a stark contrast to the crystal clear and calm water beneath the ship. Above me, the crew of the Erica Rose battled to maneuver the sails to turn us around.

“Your Royal Highness.”

I heard someone shouting at me above the wind that was now blustering fiercely. Lightning forked, splitting the sky in two, and the wind tugged my hair from the clip that had been keeping it in place. Strands of long red hair whipped around my face. I turned to see a young man heading toward me.

“I’m Joe, Your Highness, the second in command of the Erica Rose,” he said, giving me a quick bow. “The captain has asked me to escort you to his cabin.”

Joe was barely older than me, with short, dirty blond hair and a winning smile. I was surprised to see someone so young be the second in command of such a ship.

“It’s getting a little choppy,” Joe cautioned, his cheeks red as he took my hand. “They are going to struggle to get the ship back to shore. The forecast mentioned a little bit of turbulent water, but it looks to be shaping up to be a proper storm out there.”

I followed Joe to a big wooden doorway, which he opened for me and beckoned me inside. As I thanked him, a boom filled the darkening sky.

“Thunder,” Joe remarked, taking my hand and leading me down a corridor. I held on tightly to him as the ship listed violently to one side from the sharp turn of the wheel. He showed me to a large room with a writing desk on one side and a bed on the other.

“There will be some clothes in the wardrobe there,” he said, pointing to a small door. “I don’t expect the captain has any dresses, but I’m sure you’ll find something dry to wear.”

I watched the storm unfold through a small porthole as Joe left me to help the captain. It seemed no one was expecting the weather to be this bad and how could they? Only ten minutes earlier, there hadn’t been a cloud in the sky, and now there was barely any blue left, only the darkness of the sea and the sky. It was strange how quickly the storm had taken hold. I certainly had never seen anything like it before. Outside, the rain began to lash down, pitter-pattering on the round window. Thunder crashed as the waves became more intense with the roaring wind that whipped all around us. The storm had sneaked up on us quickly, and as far as I could see, we were getting further and further away from the coastline. Whatever Captain Jackson’s men were doing to turn the ship around, it wasn’t helping.

I hated admitting it to myself after dreaming of the day I could finally sail on the sea for so long, but I was beginning to get scared. My mother’s screams echoed in my head, although we had drifted too far to really hear her. The boat creaked with the strain, and from out of the window, I could see we were being pulled closer and closer toward the storm. A crash from behind me made me jump. I turned to find that some previously neatly stacked dishes had been flung from the cupboard and were now in hundreds of pieces on the floor. Holding on was almost impossible, the ship was lurching so much. I tried walking over to the wardrobe that Joe had pointed out, but the floor beneath me was rocking so much under the motion of the waves that I could barely stand at all. With a shock, I saw a stream of water pushing the remnants of the dishes across the floor. It was coming from the doorway. We were taking on water. I held on to the writing desk to keep myself upright, but the motion of the ship knocked me to the floor. Something sharp pierced my side, and when I looked down, I saw a sliver of broken plate had cut through my dress and into my flesh creating a bloom of fresh blood on the wet fabric.

I looked up to grab hold of the desk to pull myself back up and was shocked to see that the window was now partly submerged. We were sinking, and we were sinking fast. Pulling myself up, I ran to the door quickly. I had to get out, or I would drown. I yanked the door as hard as I could, and as it opened, a deluge of water rushed in knocking me over once again. The lights flickered out leaving me in complete darkness as the water engulfed me, sending me flying into something hard. Water filled my lungs as the blackness folded in around me, my mother’s warnings of the fierceness of the ocean echoing in my head.

Author Bio:

J.A lives in a total fantasy world (because reality is boring right?) When she’s not writing all the crazy fun in her head, she can be found eating cake, designing pretty pictures and hanging upside down from the tallest climbing frame in the local playground while her children look on in embarrassment. She’s travelled the world working as everything from a banana picker in Australia to a Pantomime clown, has climbed to the top of Mount Kilimanjaro and the bottom of the Grand Canyon and once gave birth to a surrogate baby for a friend of hers.
She spends way too much time gossiping on facebook and if you want to be part of her Reading Army, where you’ll get lots of freebies, exclusive sneak peeks and super secret sales, join up here
https://www.subscribepage.com/v7o8k4

Somehow she finds time to write.

Reviews for J.A.Armitage's work.
Endless Winter is a unique story that takes place in a beautiful world. J.A. Armitage's writing is lyrical and almost poetic. Janelle Fila for Readers' Favorite

I devoured this book like a rich box of chocolates. Sara C Roethle

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Read an excerpt from Stolen Obsession by Marlene M. Bell

People die, but legends live on.

New York antiquities appraiser Annalisse Drury recently lost her best friend to murder. The killer’s identity may be linked to her friend’s expensive missing bracelet—a 500-year-old artifact that carries an ancient curse, one that unleashes evil upon any who dare wear the jewelry created for the Persian royal family.

Weeks later, Annalisse sees a matching necklace at a Manhattan gallery opening. She begs the owner to destroy the cursed piece, but her pleas fall on deaf ears—despite the unnatural death that occurs during the opening. With two victims linked to the jewelry, Annalisse is certain she must act.

Desperate, Annalisse enlists the gallery owner’s son to help—even though she’s afraid he’ll break her heart. Wealthy and devastatingly handsome, with a string of bereft women in his wake, Greek playboy Alec Zavos dismisses Annalisse’s concerns—until his parents are ripped from the Zavos family yacht during their ocean voyage near Crete.

Annalisse and Alec race across two oceans to save his mother feared dead or kidnapped. When the killer changes tactics and goes after Alec, can Annalisse’s plan to save Alec’s mother save them all?

Excerpt

Chapter Ten

On the short drive past boutiques filled with weekend shoppers to her place on Bank Street, Alec’s behavior froze Annalisse to the leather upholstery. When he’d bothered to talk, curt and formal blasted her side of the car, making her uncomfortable the entire trip. She couldn’t blame him. He’d been very kind to her since the gallery party and Harry’s death, and she’d offered him ingratitude in return. A sheet of solid ice separated them rather than the beautiful wooden console at her left. In fact, the entire dashboard of Alec’s distinctive car was polished to a shiny gloss, not unlike the deck on a fancy boat. The convertible had to be worth more than her annual salary—ex-salary.

“How long should we stare at the dash?” Alec leaned over, squinting into the direct sun.

“Honestly, I’ve had some body language training, and yours is a doozie.”

Alec’s expression hardened and his eyes flashed. “What happened back there?”

“When?”

“You choose.”

“You heard everything I told Mooney. Do I have to regurgitate it again?”

He shook his head. “Help me out, here. I’m trying to understand what I’ve done.” Alec squeezed the steering wheel, his frustration evident. “I feel like you’re letting everyone in but me.”

“Chase is family. We’ve been a team for a long time.”

“If you’d been—”

“It’s hot, and I’m hungry. Come inside and help me eat all this pastrami before it turns.”

He huffed disappointment and looked away.

“I’m offering an olive branch. Let’s eat, then we’ll talk.” She batted her lashes flirtatiously. “Promise.”

She turned to open her door and he touched her arm.      

“Hold on.” Alec leapt out of the driver’s seat and bounded over the hood in one giant vault to the passenger side.

He opened her door and she slid around and made as gracious an exit she could from a car whose frame sat six inches from the asphalt.

“Give me your key.” He held out his hand in a way that suggested he wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.

She dug into her zipper compartment and gave him the fob, house key extended.

With a gentle nudge, Alec guided her up the steps.

She flinched from his touch but, at the same time, felt somewhat grateful for the caring gesture after what she’d been through with Peter.

He turned the knob before inserting the key.

The door gave way.

“Don’t you lock up before you leave?”

“I’m sure Chase did.”

“Ladies first.”

The door swung in but caught midway on an overturned chair.

“What happened?” Annalisse felt lightheaded. She caught her toe on the threshold, and unbalanced by the tote on her shoulder, fell against the jamb, her funny bone taking the brunt.

“Ouch.” She cupped her elbow while the pain dissipated. “Who’d do this in daylight?” She scanned the room. “All my stuff.”

“Stay outside while I check the house out, but if you won’t, stick close.”

If someone had taken a high velocity fan to the room it would’ve been an improvement. Following Alec, she picked her way over magazines and binders scattered over the hardwood. Nothing was in its rightful place.

He reached back for her, his vision still trained ahead. “Stay close.” Alec locked his fingers with hers.

“My cat! Boris! Here, kitty. Alec, what if something’s happened to him? Boris! Please be hiding somewhere.” She left Alec’s side to close the front door and swallowed back tears. Her faithful little roommate had been a rescued stray. He’d shown up at the farm as a few week-old kitten, thin and hungry. A pile of trembling orange fur who’d nestled into her palm, his golden eyes unsure of her. She forced back the fear of losing him, too.

Tiptoeing around books and papers, she surveyed the damage from kitchen to living area and went back to Alec. She took his warm hand and a shiver fluttered through her body. Home invasions happened to other people. She found no logic in the break in unless the act was a random burglary.

“I’d better check for anything stolen.”

“No.” He turned to her, his Adam’s apple working his throat. He stared at her as if he were trying to read her innermost thoughts.

Neither of them spoke.

Annalisse was certain Alec could hear the banging in her chest, or maybe it was his heart hammering her ears.

Most of her paintings were ripped from the walls, twisted in broken frames, lying helter-skelter. Chunks of white plaster at the missing nail heads and hangers marked their places. Every kitchen cupboard and drawer was slid to the stops or spilled on the tile. Pots, skillets, tableware, canned goods, junk drawer, and glassware—her favorite set of iced tea glasses were among the broken and injured. Not the work of a typical rob-and-run burglar, but the handiwork of a creature who preyed on destruction of the psyche.

“Why the demolition? What were they after?” Annalisse looked over at her pristine desk—empty. “My life was on that computer, dammit.”

Alec broke eye contact, then dropped her hand. “Yeah, but you were gone. Stuff can be replaced. I’d better check the rest of the house myself.” He moved deliberately toward the staircase.

Annalisse set her purse down into the flipped over cushions on the couch, repositioned them, and stepped through what used to be neat stacks, years of gallery research. A groan passed her lips when she walked to the desk marred with new scratches, bereft of her monitor and tower hard drive. She looked around the room for her laptop; it, too, was missing.

Cursing under her breath, she saw her prized possession, a two-foot bronze statue of a shepherdess with a pair of sheep grazing near her feet, lying on its side next to a toppled plant stand. An expensive work of art from Florence she’d had no business buying, but she couldn’t resist. When Generosa had called from Italy describing it, Annalisse had to have it. Everyone who knew her well understood her love for sheep. Even if she’d declined Generosa’s offer to bring it back for her, she’d felt certain the bronze would end up in her hands eventually.

Alec waited by the stairs and whispered, “Your bedroom up there?” He pointed upstairs.

She nodded, lifted the mahogany stand upright and, with both hands, replaced the hefty bronze to its rightful place next to the desk. Close enough to admire its detail while she worked. “Wait for me. I need to see what’s missing upstairs.”

Standing at the oak banister, he shook his head.

“No. You’ll be safer down there. I won’t be long, and I’ll look for your cat while I’m up there.”                                                                                                                                 

“Be careful.”

Boris had to be scared out of his mind. She hoped he’d escaped to his hiding place in the closet.

Whoever destroyed her home had acted with malice. They had her personal data and internet search history, where she shopped online, email correspondence as well as business contacts. A privacy breach she couldn’t afford. Compiling a list of possible suspects in her head, she felt so violated, even more so than by what had happened with Peter. Names and faces blurred together. With fingertips pressed at her temples, she willed the jackhammers in her head to stop.

Raising her arms, as if a make-believe thief told her to, she said, “I give up. I may as well set a match to this place, for all the good it’s going to do me now.”

Alec uttered a sentence upstairs she couldn’t make out.

“Alec, did you find Boris?”

The sound of shuffling filtered downstairs then a thump.

“Alec, what fell?” She looked up at an empty landing. The unnatural silence pricked the hairs straight out on her neck. “Answer me.”

A mechanical voice broke the silence. “Don’t move.”

She stopped breathing and froze, afraid to look up, but then looked anyway.

A figure in a brownish ski mask and desert camouflage occupied the top of the staircase. Holding Alec. He—or she—held him at gunpoint. One arm cradled Alec’s waist and a black pistol so close to Alec’s right ear, his curls hid part of the barrel.

She’d expected Alec’s expression to be as wild as hers must have been, but he appeared strangely calm.

“I’m all right, Annalisse.”

“Shut up.” The voice was distorted with some kind of voice altering mechanism. Deep tones, similar to a bumblebee in distress.

The masked person let go of Alec long enough to backhand him across the mouth.

The intruder sure smacked like a man.

Annalisse covered her mouth in horror. Her blood boiled as she watched the two men descending the stairs side by side. She was several feet from her pistol at the bottom of her purse, and the man who held Alec had to be the same man who’d turned over everything in her home. Where were her computers? Did he have a partner? Soon, he’d find what he wanted. She suspected that since the opening, or earlier, either she or Alec had been surveilled.

The buzzing voice came again, and an evil glint shone through the eyeholes in the mask. “You run, he dies. Get into kitchen. Let’s have a little zakuski, malysh.”

A breath caught in her lungs. They were Russian terms she understood.

She’d nearly become a main course earlier in the day. Damned if she would stand back and play appetizer to another creep.

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About the Author

Marlene M. Bell is an acclaimed artist and photographer as well as a writer. Her previous book, a memoir entitled Among the Sheep, offers a look into her life history, along with a selection of written works on the subject of care and breeding of sheep. She and her husband, Gregg, have raised breeding stock of nationally renowned, purebred Horned Dorset sheep for over thirty-five years. Marlene is considered one of the foremost experts in this field of livestock and writes on the subject often. Marlene’s art photographs of sheep landscapes grace the covers of publications such as, Sheep!, The Shepherd, Ranch & Rural Living and Sheep Industry News. Ewephoric, her mail order venture, began in 1985 out of a desire for realistic sheep stationery.

Marlene and her husband reside on a wooded ranch in East Texas with their Dorsets, a lovable Maremma guard dog named Tia, and 3 spoiled cats who rule the household.

Visit Marlene Bell’s website at www.marlenembell.com

Spotlight: Once Upon a Summer: A Contemporary Romance Anthology


Once Upon A Summer
A Contemporary Romance Anthology
With Stories By:
Brooke Moss, Liz Ashlee, Clara Winter, Tammy Mannersly, Sarah Vance Tompkins, Kitsy Clare, Mark Love, Melissa Kay Clarke

Beaches, boyfriends and danger…summer is certainly hot! Grab a hold tight as these eight authors wow you with stories from sweet to sizzling! After all, every day can have some summer fun!

Breaking Girl Code by Brooke Moss
Aubrey is having the perfect evening out, with the perfect guy, on a perfect summer night. The problem is… Preston’s not her date. His real date is her B.F.F., and she’s passed out in the backseat.

Wishing on Water by Liz Ashlee
After watching everyone’s else’s lives hit huge milestones, all Hope wants is to escape to her boring, unchanging, single life. So, where’s the one logical place to escape to? A retirement home.

Art with a Pulse by Clara Winter
Artist Alice finds herself rescuing a seal on the sands of Laguna Beach with screenwriter Elijah. Can Alice put her past behind her and give Elijah the chance he deserves? 

A Natural Passion by Tammy Mannersly
How will marine biologist, Dylan O'Day, solve the illegal poaching problem threatening the ecosystem he loves and protects when the gorgeous, new intern, Kyra Shine, is occupying his every thought?

You Had Me at Aloha by Sarah Vance Tompkins
Social media guru Vivienne Parker's dream trip to Hawaii turns into a nightmare when her roommate in the luxurious surf shack is the hot Olympic athlete who just got her fired.

More Than Puppy Love by Kitsy Clare
Fireworks spark when Arianna, a city girl with an elite pet portrait business is in a wreck and asks Dave a country auto mechanic for help, but can these two beagle owners from different worlds see eye to eye?

Stealing Haven by Mark Love
Sand, sun, romance and a mystery to solve. Sounds like a perfect vacation for Jamie.

Harmony in the Key of Murder by Melissa Kay Clarke
Summer in the South can mean a different type of heat when a newly appointed investigator and a mechanical genius cross paths leading to murder and love.







"I write because if I don't...my head will explode, and ruin the drapes." ♥

Brooke Moss writes complex, character-driven stories about kismet, reunited lovers, first love, and the kind of romance that we should all have the chance at finding. She prefers her stories laced with some humor just for fun, and enough drama to keep her readers flipping the pages, and begging for more!

When Brooke isn't spinning tales, she spends her time drawing/cartooning, reading, watching movies then comparing them to books, and, of course, wrangling five kids, mugging on her hubby she lovingly refers to as her "nerd", and attempting to conquer the Mount Everest of laundry that is the bane of her existence.







Liz Ashlee is a romance novelist who recently graduated from Northern Kentucky University her B.A. in English and B.S. in Library Informatics. She has been published in Loch Norse Magazine and The Pentangle, and has won the Miller Award for Outstanding Fiction Writing. She currently lives in Independence, Kentucky, with her family and dog-daughter, Hero






Clara Winter is the writing name of Amy Rugg.
Amy Rugg grew up reading Anne of Green Gables, The Secret Garden, and Alice in Wonderland, while watching Buck Rogers, Star Trek, and Doctor Who. Writing her own stories naturally ensued. She is a wife, mother, and former school counselor, with a Master’s Degree in Counseling. Amy is from Colorado Springs, Co and currently resides in Mission Viejo, Ca.









Tammy Mannersly is an Australian author based in Brisbane, Queensland. She loves writing romance, has a fondness for animals, is crazy about movies and enjoys a great Happily Ever After. Her passion for writing started from a very young age and led her to complete a Bachelor Degree in Creative Industries majoring in Creative Writing at Queensland University of Technology.










Sarah Vance-Tompkins was born in a small town in northern Michigan. She spent every summer exploring the sugar sand beaches near Sleeping Bear National Park. She left her heart behind when she moved to Los Angeles to attend the University of Southern California. She received an MFA in Film Production and went on to work in feature film development in Hollywood. She has worked as a reporter for a weekly entertainment trade publication, and been paid to write obituaries, press releases, the directions for use on personal lubricant bottles, and breathless descriptions of engagement rings for an online jewelry store. She lives in a small town north of Los Angeles with her husband and three cats.








Kitsy Clare hails from Philadelphia and lives in New York. A romantic at heart, she loves to write about the sexy intrigue of the city, and particularly of the art world. She knows it well, having shown her paintings here before turning to writing. Model Position, her new adult novella is about artist Sienna and her friends. Living in a Bookworld says: “Beautifully written! We get to learn things about art & painting, which is refreshing. A colorful story from a promising new adult author.” The next in her Art of Love series, Private Internship launches in September with Inkspell.

Kitsy loves to travel, draw, read romance, speculative fiction and teach writing workshops. She also writes YA as Catherine Stine. Her futuristic thriller, Ruby’s Fire was a YA finalist in the Next Generation Indie book awards. Fireseed One, its companion novel, was a finalist in YA and Sci-Fi in the USA News International Book Awards, and an Indie Reader notable. Her YA horror, Dorianna, launches fall 2014 with Evernight Teen. She’s a member of SFWA, RWA and SCBWI.






                                                                      Mark Love
I am a Michigan native, who up until recently lived in the Metro Detroit area, where crime and corruption always seem to be at the top of everyone's news. So there's always the chance to find something that can trigger a story idea and enough interesting characters to jump start your imagination.

While I have worked in many industries and career paths over the years, one of my passions has always been writing. I was even able to parlay that passion for a while, working as a freelance reporter for a couple of newspapers in the Detroit area. Writing features and hard news helped me hone my talents. But while newspaper work was interesting and paid a few bills, it was a far cry from the fiction writing that I enjoy the most.

I've always been drawn to mysteries and thrillers, the kind of stories that have a fast pace, that keep you moving and keep you guessing as to what's going to take place next. Mix those in with some elements of crime, perhaps a glimpse of the seedier side and you've got me. So it's always been one of my goals to write stories like that. 




Melissa Kay Clarke was born in Tupelo, Mississippi and raised in Houlka, a small rural town forty-five minutes southwest down the famous Natchez Trace. She found a love of reading very early and quickly devoured everything she could. Told repeatedly that she had a wonderful imagination, she turned to scribbling her musings and wrote her first novel while in college. It was never published and has since vanished. The death of a close friend who aspired to become an author reawakened her own desire resulting in penning her first book, Shattered Dreams, published in 2013.

Melissa now resides in Meridian, Mississippi with her supportive family – husband, Robert and daughter Rebecca, two cats, and two dogs. When she isn't writing, she spends way too much time with her online friends and feeding her ravenous appetite for the written word.





Follow the tour HERE for exclusive excerpts and a giveaway!










Read an excerpt from Crude Blessings: The Amazing Life Story of Glenn Patterson American Oilman

Crude Blessings: The Amazing Life Story of Glenn Patterson American Oilman is the rags-to-riches story of Glenn Patterson’s road to survival and success in the volatile and unpredictable “modern age of petroleum.” Born on the family ranch in Blackwell, Texas, Glenn became one of America’s energy industry pioneers. His core values, work ethic and dedication to his family and employees are a valuable example for the American spirit of perseverance, hard work, and fair play.

Much more than one son's homage to his dad, Crude Blessings is a compelling narrative about a family patriarch who embodied the best qualities of the Greatest Generation, which inspired and powered the success of America. Timely because of the increasing polarization in our country, Glenn Patterson's story and values were examples of the Christian ethos of decency, integrity, faith, and trust throughout his life in his business and family. 

Building his business on a foundation of “always doing the right thing,” Glenn was revered by colleagues, customers and competitors alike. During the most disruptive period any industry had ever faced, his company, Patterson Drilling became one of the largest oil and gas-drilling companies in the country. The legacy of embedding strong family values in a small business is described in this new book through a first–hand account of the sector’s fierce challenges during the last two decades of the 20th century. Glenn’s journey became spiritual as well, when he was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s Disease at too early an age, which led to struggles with his own mortality and his relationship with God.

Excerpt

It’s a day I’ll never forget.

Saturday morning, early spring. 1986. I was almost 12. Dad shook me awake around 6 a.m.—nothing strange about that. Saturday was a workday; so was Sunday sometimes. He’d been putting us to work on various weekends since elementary school. I worked in the yard, tore down motors, cut up pipe, scrap iron. Hoed weeds, painted. Sandblasted and painted drilling rigs in 100-degree heat or hotter. I did almost everything. My older brother, Robert, had it worse. He actually had to roughneck on the drilling rigs, like a full-grown man. I was still too young for that.

It wasn’t easy being the son of a boss—the kid of the legendary founder of Patterson Drilling, Glenn Patterson, who stood 6’4”, like LBJ or Abraham Lincoln. He showed no favoritism when it came to work. Quite the opposite, in fact. If there was some rookie job, some shit detail, it was sure to land in your lap. Glenn Patterson had no intention of raising a pair of spoiled brats.

So we piled into the truck without complaining. My dad’s best friend from high school, Donnie Newman, was in the truck behind us. It was a long drive through pitch black, leaving the asphalt onto a series of unpaved caliche roads. Dad used the time to think. He was worried. I didn’t know all the ins and outs at age 12, but times were bad.

The bottom had fallen out of the oil market. No one was drilling anymore, and Patterson Drilling, the company my father had built from scratch with his brother-in-law, Cloyce Talbott, was flirting with going belly up; they were nearing default on a bank loan. Dad had one last crazy idea to save himself and, thereby, the company—a last-ditch way of drumming up some cash to make an interest-only payment to the bank that he and Cloyce had both resorted to. They had to come up with a few thousand bucks every month. That was our mission that morning as we drove past acres and acres of aban- doned oil fields. The price of crude was just too low to keep ’em running—nothing but scrap metal now, which most men would call worthless. But not Glenn Patterson. He saw acres and acres of scrap metal, abandoned flow lines of pipe that no one wanted, and he thought, even scrap metal has a value. It’s something he had learned from his dad. You could cut up metal pipe and repurpose it for fencing and other construction needs. Every oil field has miles and miles of metal pipe used to pump water and oil in and out of the well and transport it throughout the fields. So Dad bought the scrap metal rights from an oil company that had abandoned its lines, and we parked, still in darkness, at one such field. My dad figured that if we could cut a bunch of 2 3/8” pipe into 30-foot lengths and pile it onto the trucks, we might get 50 cents a foot for it. And if eight biceps worked that pipe from dawn to dusk, we could drag away quite a haul. The key was efficiency. Fastest way to cut that pipe was using an acetylene torch, and that was Donnie’s job. I had learned how to use a cutting torch, and so had Robert, but Donnie was way faster at it. He would slice through those joints in nine seconds flat.

Only problem was that the pipe was red-hot when Donnie dropped it to the ground and moved to the next joint; any nearby brush or grass would instantly catch fire. My job was to rotate the pipe with wrenches as Donnie cut it and to put out these mini fires before they got out of control. I had a shovel and a bucket of sand. So I was running one step behind Donnie as he was slicing through the pipe. Robert and my dad were behind me, grabbing the cut pipe after it cooled and hauling it to the trailers we were towing. The system was working pretty well, but the pipe was not cooling down fast enough. Nearby shrubs kept sprouting up in flame, and I’d have to run back and deal with them. It had been a very dry year, and there was a breeze that morning; the fires started to multiply. I couldn’t keep up with them. Pretty soon, one area was out of control and getting worse. I turned to call my dad, but he was already there, assaying the situation—realizing there was little choice. Flames were spreading fast across the dry grass. Glenn ran to the truck and grabbed the radio to report the emergency to the authorities. Then we picked up our gear and parked the trucks upwind. It took a long time for the fire trucks to locate us. We were in the middle of nowhere. Seemed like hours in my panicked 12-year-old mind. The area that was now aflame looked a thousand times larger than the few acres it probably was. It felt like we had torched the whole state of Texas. The day was a bust. I had nightmares about it.

Buy on Amazon

About the Author

T.M. “Roe” Patterson is a 23-year industry veteran in the oil and gas services business. Moving to his dad’s family business Basic Energy in 2006, he was named Top Public Company CEO by the Fort Worth Business Press in 2014. Holding a Bachelor of Science degree from Texas Tech University, he and his wife Tonya have two children and live in Fort Worth. He is active supporter of The American Heart Association, North Texas Alzheimer’s Association and speaks frequently across the country on the practical approach to leadership that his father embraced. Crude Blessings is his first book.