Current & Upcoming Tours

Wednesday, August 19, 2015

Foreclosure by S.D. Thames (10/12 - 11/13)


S.D. Thames

on Tour October 12 - November 13, 2015


Foreclosure by S.D. Thames cover

When Florida's housing crash derails his shot at partnership, lawyer David Friedman rolls up his sleeves and lands the client of his dreams—Frank O'Reilly, a real estate developer embroiled in dozens of lawsuits and hell-bent on turning a profit during the recession. Little does David know that Frank's company is involved in a murderous conspiracy to cover up years of mortgage fraud in the Sunshine State.

As David prepares Frank’s case for a trial that will make or break his career, he discovers evidence that a secret investor in Frank’s company is responsible for murder and will continue killing to hide the truth. The only thing David can’t figure out is whether Frank is the conspiracy’s victim or its mastermind. To answer that question, David must risk far more than partnership as he unravels one dark secret after another about his client, his law firm, and, ultimately, himself.

Book Details:

Genre: Legal Suspense
Published by: Indy
Publication Date: September 1, 2015
Number of Pages: 360
Purchase Links: Coming Soon!

Tour Info:

Book Formats: ePub, Kindle, Print
Hosting Options: Review, Interview, Guest Post, Showcase
Giveaway: There will be a tour-wide PICT giveway & individual host giveaways.

Read an excerpt:

The elevator eased to a halt high above the beach. The door behind David glided open. He took a final glimpse at the beach, then turned to follow Robbie into a living room of sprawling cherry wood floors and walls that in the dark appeared dusted with ash. The kitchen was cold stainless steel and dark cabinets that matched the stained wood floors. David set his bag on the polished granite countertop. Then he followed Robbie through another living area, this one with open French doors that led to a balcony that wrapped around the beachside perimeter of the penthouse.

Outside, Frank shielded a joint from the flickering rain that was finding its way under the balcony’s awning. David could still hear swells beating the shore twenty-five stories below.

“One of the few sounds I never grow tired of.” Frank held another hit and stared over the balcony.

“I found him down in the sales office,” Robbie said.

Frank seemed like he could care less.

“I didn’t know you lived up here,” David said.

“This one I personally designed.” Frank seemed to be talking to himself. “My masterpiece.”

David almost forgot why he was here.

“What did Katherine say?” Frank asked Robbie.

“She’s not coming,” Robbie answered.

“I guess that’s good.”

“Frank,” David said, “you wanted to talk about—”

Frank raised his hand. “I know damn well why you’re here. I’m just not ready to go there yet.” He stared at Robbie. “Did you tell her I’m leaving?”

“She knows.”

Frank took the last hit from the stub between his fingers. Then he squashed it like an ant, popped it in his mouth, and swallowed. “So be it.”

Frank rose and leaned against the balcony wall overlooking the beach. “Come here.”

David presumed he was talking to him, so he took a few steps in his direction.

“Closer,” Frank said.

At least David knew to whom Frank was talking now. He joined Frank, side by side.

“You like the view?” Frank asked.

“It’s great.”

Frank’s breathing was heavy, nearly panting. David couldn’t tell if it was from the smoke or anger or both. “You want to work with me?” The breathing was growing guttural.

“Of course. I brought the engagement letter with me.”

Frank put his arm around David. David smelled the stench of marijuana and curry and a storm brewing in the Gulf. “You need to learn some rules then.”

“What’s the problem, Frank?”

Frank’s grip tightened, filling David with the realization of just how strong this guy was. Not just strong arms, but a strong torso, a primal strength genetically honed over centuries of labor.

“Here’s some rules,” Frank said. “One. Never make a concession without my approval.”

“What concession?” David asked.

“Don’t argue with me. Just listen. No concessions. And that concession concerns rule two. We don’t produce escrow records.”

“Cummings asked for that, Frank. You don’t have to sign it. It’s just a draft.”

“David, repeat after me: we don’t produce escrow records.”

“It’s not that simple, Frank.”

Frank squeezed him like a constrictor. “We don’t produce escrow records. Say it.”

“Okay, Frank. We don’t produce escrow records.”

“Good.” Frank loosened the grip a few notches, but kept David locked.

David didn’t want to push his luck. “As your counsel, I need to advise you that Florida statutes require you to keep those records for five years.”

Frank laughed. “Hear that, Robbie? We have to keep them for five years. We’re paying this guy the big bucks to tell us this.”

“I hear you, Frank,” Robbie said, but David had no idea where Robbie was standing right now.

“David, look down here with me.” He pulled David closer again and made sure he was looking over the balcony. “You like this feeling?”

David felt a surge of nausea. “It’s a great view.”

“You feel tied to me, David? I fall, you fall?”

“That’s how it feels, Frank.”

“Because if I fall, David, you fall. You willing to fall with me?” Frank jerked David, causing David to flinch. “Is that a ‘no’?”

“No, Frank. It’s not.”

“You’re not willing to?”

“I am, Frank. I’m your guy. I’m on your team.”

“What are the rules, David?” Frank jerked him again.

David closed his eyes. “No concessions without your approval.”

“And?” he screamed with another jerk.

“We don’t produce escrow records.”

“You afraid of dying, David?”


“You sure?”

“I’m sure,” David said. “I know, death, Frank. Too well.”

Frank pulled David away from the wall. “Give me a hug, young man.” He pulled him even tighter for a bear hug. “Welcome to the team.”

“Any other rules I need to know of?” David asked.

“That’s all I can think of for now.” Frank let him go and grinned. “You’re my attorney now, David, isn’t that right?”

“As soon as you sign that retainer agreement and give me my check.”

“Robbie will take care of that.”

Frank returned to his chair and reclined. A gust of wind blew debris in his face and knocked his ash can over, but Frank seemed oblivious to it all.

“There’s one more thing we need to discuss,” David said.

“That’s news to me,” Frank sighed.

“Meridian Bank.”

Frank rubbed his head like he had a migraine. “In due course.”

“It’s urgent, Frank.”

“In due course.”

Robbie stepped forward and pulled on David’s shoulder. “Let’s get that agreement taken care of.”

David followed Robbie back into the kitchen, and pulled the agreement from the bag he’d left on the countertop. “You can sign for the company?”

Robbie nodded. He scribbled his name on the signature line. Underneath, he printed a title, COO.

“I didn’t know you were an officer of the company,” David said.

“Now you do.” Robbie retrieved an envelope from a drawer and handed it to David. David opened it and found a check. The watermark glistened under the light of the kitchen. Payable to Hollis & Alderman, in the amount of $50,000.

David’s pride swelled as the elevator descended. Having the check and signed agreement in hand gave him the confidence to ask Robbie something that had long been on his mind. “So what’s the story with Frank and Katherine? They an item?”

Robbie grunted. “He’s old enough to be her father.”

“Well, this is Gaspar County.”

“Is incest common in Gaspar County?”

“I don’t follow,” David said.

The elevator stopped on a dime on the ground floor. David grabbed the rail.

“She is his daughter,” Robbie said. “Frank’s only child.”

“Are you serious?”

“He didn’t know her until five years ago. Now she’s his right hand.”

That made perfect sense to David. Almost perfect sense. “But I thought you were his right hand.”

Robbie grinned. “Frank’s left-handed.”


Author Bio:

S.D. Thames grew up in the Midwest but has lived in the Tampa Bay area since 1992. When he's not working as a litigation partner at a national law firm, he's writing mysteries and legal thrillers exploring the dark side of the Sunshine State. His first novel, an offbeat legal thriller set during Florida's housing crash of 2008, will be published through Kindle in September, 2015.

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Tour Participants:

Join In:

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Bone Box by Jay Amberg (Nov 1-30)

Bone Box

by Jay Amberg

on Tour November 1-30, 2015


Bone Box by Jay Amberg cover

On a hill overlooking the Aegean Sea in Turkey, an international team of archeologists discovers a stone box that first-century Jews used to rebury their dead. The box’s Aramaic inscription: Jesus of Nazareth, the Christ. Sophia Altay, the beautiful French-Turkish archeologist who heads the team, tries to keep the discovery secret until she can authenticate the ossuary. She knows that people will kill to obtain the relics—and to suppress the box’s other contents, documents that could alter Western history.

Joseph Travers, an American sent to Turkey to evaluate the archeological dig, soon finds himself pulled into the web of betrayal, reprisal, and violence. In his journey through Istanbul’s mosques and palaces, the archeological sites around ancient Ephesus, and, ultimately, the strange and mystical terrain of Cappadocia, he comes to understand the epochal meaning of the bone box.

Book Details:

Genre: Archaeological Thriller/Mystery
Published by: Amika Press
Publication Date: 14 March 2015
Number of Pages: 256
ISBN: 978-1937484279
Purchase Links: Amazon Barnes & Noble Goodreads

Tour Info:

Book Formats: ePub, mobi, Print (US & CA)
Hosting Options: Review, Interview, Guest Post (1-Host Must Provide the Topic), or Showcase
Giveaway: Tourwide Rafflecopter for paperbacks & Host Giveaways for eBooks


Award-Winning Finalist, Thriller, 2015 National Indie Excellence Awards

Award-Winning Finalist, Thriller/Adventure, 2015 International Book Awards

“Will mystify, entrance, enthrall and captivate readers.” —Fran Lewis, Just Reviews

“Politics, religion, sexuality, culture, deceit, greed, and prejudices turn this thriller into a page-turner.…The stories within the story demand attention and remind us that one event can be perceived rightly or wrongly from several perspectives.” —T.B. Markinson, Self-Publishing Review

“A reflective thriller that will leave you catching your breath while illuminating your own sense of connection with our shared past.” —Michele Fitzpatrick, Author, The Women’s Center

Read an excerpt:

Uncovering the Ossuary (from Chapter 2)

The sky is cobalt, but the sun is already low—and little light reaches the trench in which the two men work. The evening air is hot and still as though it has hung there for centuries. Sweat soaks the stout man’s sleeveless T-shirt and mats the gray and white hair on his arms and shoulders. His nose is bulbous above his mustache, the top of his head bald except for long strands of hair hanging limply over his left ear. He grunts as he pushes dirt aside with his trowel. The taller, younger man is more careful, but he, too, breathes hard as he whisks dirt with his brush. The discovery, far more than the exertion, is taking his breath. He is clean-shaven; his features are fine, his black hair thick. Neither man speaks until they have completely uncovered the ancient ossuary, the bone box.

When the stout man stands, his head is still well below the trench line. He stabs the trowel into a pile of dirt, wipes his grimy hands on his pants, pulls up the front of his shirt, and smears the sweat from his face. He picks up an empty plastic water bottle, glares at it, and tosses it next to the trowel. The younger man sets his hands on his hips, catches his breath, and stares at the ossuary. The bone box, a meter long and seventy centimeters wide, seems to glow even in the trench’s shadows. Although he can’t read the words etched into the stone, he recognizes them as Aramaic. The symbols—the equal-armed cross within the circle within the six-pointed star—are familiar, but their juxtaposition is not.

As the call to prayer begins, a cirrus horsetail swirls through the rectangle of sky. The voice barely carries into the trench, but the two men turn and stand still. The heavy man murmurs prayers, and the thin one bows his head in silence, his prayer of a different sort. A prayer of both gratitude and supplication. A prayer that this ossuary is what he yearns for it to be. The cloud’s wispy tail snaps clear.

When the echo of prayer ceases, the stout man squats and digs his fingers under the corners of the bone box.

“Wait!” the young man says in Turkish. “She should be here. We must wait for her.”

Glowering across the box, the stout man grabs the hand-pick he used earlier.

“No!” The young man stoops and presses his palms on the ossuary’s lid. “She must open it.” His face reddens, and his fingers burn as though the ossuary is too sacred, too hallowed, too inviolable, to be touched by humans.

The stout man swings the pick across the young man’s knuckles.

The young man leaps back, his eyes wide. His mouth opens, but words don’t form. Blood beads on the index and middle fingers of his right hand.

The stout man leans over and jams the pick’s tip under the rim of the ossuary’s lid. As he pushes the handle with both hands, getting his weight into it, the lid creaks open. Keeping the pick in place as a wedge, he kneels and runs his stubby fingers under the lid. Stale air rises as he lifts the lid, holds it to his sweating chest, and stares into the box.

Despite himself, despite his stinging fingers and welling tears, the young man steps forward and peers into the box. Making the sign of the cross repeatedly, he takes a series of deep breaths in an unsuccessful attempt to calm himself. Blood trickles down his hand and drops, bright splotches darkening into sandy soil. Blinding sacrosanct light rises from the ossuary, weaving around them and spiraling from the trench. He glances at the stout man who is unable to see the light, runs his hand through his hair, and gazes back into the box. He cannot draw his eyes from the contents, though his pupils might at any second be seared and his skin peel away. The moment is every bit as frightening as it is exhilarating. His blood boils—the Janissary blood, the blood of his lost ancestors, the wanderers and cave dwellers alike. There is much more to this even than he imagined, much more to it than she will at first believe.

Author Bio:

Jay Amberg

Jay Amberg is the author of eleven books. He received a BA from Georgetown University and a PhD from Northwestern University. He has taught high school and college students since 1972.

His latest book, Bone Box, is now available from Amika Press. Amberg has also published Cycle, America’s Fool, Whale Song, and compiled 52 Poems for Men.

Prior to Amika Press, Amberg published thriller novels Doubloon (Forge), Blackbird Singing (Forge) and Deep Gold (Warner Books).

Among his books on teaching are School Smarts and The Study Skills Handbook, published by Good Year. Amberg wrote The Creative Writing Handbook (Good Year) with Mark Henry Larson and Verbal Review and Workbook for the SAT (Harcourt Brace Jovanovich) with Robert S Boone.

Catch Up:
author's website author's twitter author's facebook

Tour Participants:

Join In:

To Sign up either complete the form below or email Wendy at Thank you for your interest in this tour.


Get More Great Reads at Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tours