Peg Cochran brings 1930's New York City to life in this enthralling historical mystery featuring a wealthy young socialite turned tabloid-photographer who lands in the spotlight when a debutante ball turns deadly.It's 1938, the country is pulling out of the Great Depression and women are going to work. Armed with a Wellesley education and a determination to be different, Elizabeth "Biz" Adams takes a job at the reputable paper The Daily Trumpet—though some would call a cheap gossip rag. There she quickly learns that New York City is a much different place outside the gilded cage of her family's Madison Avenue apartment. Tasked to cover debutante balls wasn't what she had in mind, but when things go wrong and someone is murdered, it's Elizabeth's photograph that might implicate the season's "It girl". In an effort to clear the girl's name, Elizabeth takes it upon herself to uncover the truth in an investigation that leads her into the darkest corners of New... Views: 13
Previously published under the title *COLT*
“This is a character I’m eager to follow through many adventures to come.”
—Tess Gerritsen, New York Times bestselling creator of the Rizzoli and Isles series
October 21: just an ordinary day, unless you’re a former rock star…
The sole survivor of a plane crash…
A private investigator working out of a camper…
For Nicholas Colt, October 21 is an unlucky day. A day for nightmares. It always has been, and this year is no exception.
Someone is brutally murdering the offspring of an anonymous sperm donor, and Colt’s missing client is next on the list. With less than four days to find the young man—and, with a pair of drug-addicted study partners, a violent motorcycle gang, a stalker ex-girlfriend, and a host of other obstacles standing in his way—Colt faces the most challenging and deadly case of his life.
This edition includes the first three chapters of LADY 52.
Suggested reading order for the series:
AMERICAN P.I.
LADY 52
POCKET-47
CROSSCUT
SNUFF TAG 9
RATTLED (Short story)
KEY DEATH
BLOOD TATTOO
SYCAMORE BLUFF
THE REACHER FILES: FUGITIVE
THE REACHER FILES: VELOCITY (Short story)
THE BLOOD NOTEBOOKS
Note: Although published at a later date, the events in AMERICAN P.I. and LADY 52 precede those in Jude Hardin's debut thriller POCKET-47. All of the books listed work as stand-alone thrillers, depending on reader preference. Nicholas Colt also appears in several short stories, including the one titled RATTLED and the one titled RACKED.
**About the Author
Jude Hardin is the author of the Nicholas Colt thriller series. You can learn more about Jude and his books at http://judehardinbooks.com/ For periodic updates and special offers, please sign up for Jude's newsletter at http://eepurl.com/zn1XD Views: 13
From CWA Diamond Dagger Award winner Ann Cleeves comes The Glass Room, the fifth book in the Vera Stanhope series. Published for the first time in the US."I do love Vera!" —Val McDermid"Ann Cleeves is one of my favorite mystery writers! I relish learning more about Vera with each book."—Louise Penney, New York Times Bestselling author of the Inspector Gamache seriesDI Vera Stanhope is not one to make friends easily, but her hippy neighbors keep her well-supplied in homebrew and conversation, and somehow bonds have formed. When one of them goes missing, Vera tracks the young woman down to the Writer's House, a country retreat where aspiring authors work on their stories. Things get complicated when a body is discovered, and Vera's neighbor is found with a knife in her hand.Calling in the team, Vera knows that she should hand the case over. She's too close to the main suspect. But the investigation is too... Views: 12
Tauria dragons possess short tempers, and their ability to hold a grudge is legendary. Tauria witches are as stubborn as they are proud. Their decades-long feud has angered the king who decrees that one witch must marry one dragon and live with him on Zodiac Mountain. Together, they must repair the broken relationship between coven and clan.Unlike the other witches, Marley has always been able to see the dragons’ side as well as the witches’. She volunteers to be the dragon’s bride believing she can bring peace by persuading everyone to meet in the middle.Donovan is a typical dragon – arrogant, short of temper, and gorgeous as hell. He is fiercely loyal to his clan, and his idea of peace is for the witches to admit they are totally in the wrong.Marriage becomes a tense battleground. Neither witch nor dragon is willing to give an inch. Their weapon of choice – fiery passion that threatens to engulf them body and soul. Views: 12
For starlet Elizabeth Sutton, it’s difficult to tell which has more
momentum: her burgeoning film career, or the growing intimacy in her
forbidden romance with notorious Hollywood outsider, Aidan Evans.When
the opportunity to costar in a feature film arrives, Beth and Aidan
fight to keep their relationship out of Hollywood’s rumor mill and away
from the ever-watchful eyes of Starlight Studios head Luther Mertz, who
condemns a union between them and threatens the future of Beth’s acting
career.The pressure mounts as the cameras roll. Beth and
Aidan navigate the precarious heights of superstardom while exploring
their physical desires in secret. Beth grapples between the debilitating
nervousness over her sexual inexperience and her unbridled need for
Aidan. Meanwhile, the demons from Aidan’s past he thought forever
vanquished linger on the fringes of a fragile inner peace . . . The Starlight Trilogy is a story of love and redemption set against the backdrop of the final years of Hollywood's Golden Age. Views: 12
From New York Times bestselling master storyteller Robin Hobb comes four thrilling fantasies set in the world of the Rain Wilds. Get all four novels in Robin Hobb's The Rain Wilds Chronicles in one e-book, including Dragon Keeper, Dragon Haven, City of Dragons, and Blood of Dragons. This thrilling series tells the story of the resurgence of dragons in a world that both needs and fears them. Views: 12
On her first day off in months, Trudie Eyre, personal assistant to the famous and indulged, is called to rescue her client from a potentially career destroying booty call. Finding Hollywood���s Sexiest Man Alive slumped dead in the shower after a night with America���s Sweetheart means Trudie is drawn further into a world where the glamor is only on the surface. Views: 12
The #1 New York Times bestselling author Jonathan Kellerman’s “psychology skills and dark imagination are a potent literary mix” (Los Angeles Times), and this intensely thrilling blend has never been so powerful as in the acclaimed author’s new novel of murder and madness among the beautiful dreamers, seductive predators, and doomed innocents adrift in the glare of Southern California’s eternal sunshine.A series of horrifying events occur in quick succession in the same upscale L.A. neighborhood. A backyard renovation unearths an infant’s body, buried sixty years ago. And soon thereafter in a nearby park, another disturbingly bizarre discovery is made not far from the body of a young woman shot in the head. Helping LAPD homicide detective Milo Sturgis to link these eerie incidents is brilliant psychologist Alex Delaware. But even the good doctor’s vast experience with matters both clinical and criminal might not be enough to cut down to the bone of this chilling case—and draw out the disturbing truth.Backtracking six decades into the past stirs up tales of a beautiful nurse with a mystery lover, a handsome, wealthy doctor who seems too good to be true, and a hospital with a notorious reputation—all of them long gone, along with any records of a newborn, and destined for anonymity. But the specter of fame rears its head when the case unexpectedly twists in the direction of the highest echelons of celebrity privilege. Entering this sheltered world, Alex little imagines the macabre layer just below the surface—a decadent quagmire of unholy rituals and grisly sacrifice.Before their work is done, Alex and Milo, “the most original whodunit duo since Watson and Holmes” (Forbes), must confront a fanatically deranged mind of such monstrous cunning that even the most depraved madman would shudder.About the AuthorJonathan Kellerman is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of more than thirty bestselling crime novels, including the Alex Delaware series, The Butcher’s Theater, Billy Straight, The Conspiracy Club, Twisted, and True Detectives. With his wife, bestselling novelist Faye Kellerman, he co-authored Double Homicide and Capital Crimes. He is also the author of two children’s books and numerous nonfiction works, including Savage Spawn: Reflections on Violent Children and With Strings Attached: The Art and Beauty of Vintage Guitars. He has won the Goldwyn, Edgar, and Anthony awards and has been nominated for a Shamus Award. Jonathan and Faye Kellerman live in California, New Mexico, and New York. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.CHAPTER1All mine!The house, the life growing inside her.The husband.Holly finished her fifth circuit of the back room that looked out to the yard. She paused for breath. The baby—Aimee—had started pushing against her diaphragm.Since escrow had closed, Holly had done a hundred circuits, imagining. Loving every inch of the place despite the odors embedded in ninety-year-old plaster: cat pee, mildew, overripe vegetable soup. Old person.In a few days the painting would begin and the aroma of fresh latex would bury all that, and cheerful colors would mask the discouraging gray-beige of Holly’s ten-room dream. Not counting bathrooms.The house was a brick-faced Tudor on a quarter-acre lot at the southern edge of Cheviot Hills, built when construction was meant to last and adorned by moldings, wainscoting, arched mahogany doors, quarter-sawn oak floors. Parquet in the cute little study that would be Matt’s home office when he needed to bring work home.Holly could close the door and not have to hear Matt’s grumbling about moron clients incapable of keeping decent records. Meanwhile she’d be on a comfy couch, snuggling with Aimee.She’d learned the sex of the baby at the four-month anatomical ultrasound, decided on the name right then and there. Matt didn’t know yet. He was still adjusting to the whole fatherhood thing.Sometimes she wondered if Matt dreamed in numbers.Resting her hands on a mahogany sill, Holly squinted to blank out the weeds and dead grass, struggling to conjure a green, flower-laden Eden.Hard to visualize, with a mountain of tree trunk taking up all that space.The five-story sycamore had been one of the house’s selling points, with its trunk as thick as an oil drum and dense foliage that created a moody, almost spooky ambience. Holly’s creative powers had immediately kicked into gear, visualizing a swing attached to that swooping lower branch.Aimee giggling as she swooped up and shouted that Holly was the best mommy.Two weeks into escrow, during a massive, unseasonal rainstorm, the sycamore’s roots had given way. Thank God the monster had teetered but hadn’t fallen. The trajectory would’ve landed it right on the house.An agreement was drawn up: The sellers—the old woman’s son and daughter—would pay to have the monstrous thing chopped down and hauled away, the stumps ground to dust, the soil leveled. Instead, they’d cheaped out, paying a tree company only to cut down the sycamore, leaving behind a massive horror of deadwood that took up the entire rear half of the yard.Matt had gone bananas, threatened to kill the deal.Abrogate. What an ugly word.Holly had cooled him off by promising to handle the situation, she’d make sure they got duly compensated, he wouldn’t have to deal with it.Fine. As long as you actually do it.Now Holly stared at the mountain of wood, feeling discouraged and a bit helpless. Some of the sycamore, she supposed, could be reduced to firewood. Fragments and leaves and loose pieces of bark she could rake up herself, maybe create a compost pile. But those massive columns . . .Whatever; she’d figure it out. Meanwhile, there was cat-pee/overripe-soup/mildew/old-lady stink to deal with.Mrs. Hannah had lived in the house for fifty-two years. Still, how did a person’s smell permeate lath and plaster? Not that Holly had anything against old people. Though she didn’t know too many.There had to be something you could do to freshen yourself—a special deodorant—when you reached a certain age.One way or the other, Matt would settle down. He’d come around, he always did.Like with the house, itself. He’d never expressed any interest in design, all of a sudden he was into contemporary. Holly had toured a ton of boring white boxes, knowing Matt would always find a reason to say no because that was Matt’s thing.By the time Holly’s dream house materialized, he didn’t care about style, just a good price.The deal had been one of those warp-speed magical things, like when the stars are all aligned and your karma’s perfectly positioned: Old lady dies, greedy kids want quick cash and contact Coldwell and randomly get hooked up with Vanessa, and Vanessa calls Holly before the house goes on the market because she owes Holly big-time, all those nights talking Vanessa down from bad highs, listening to Vanessa’s nonstop litany of personal issues.Toss in the biggest real estate slump in decades and the fact that Holly had been a little Ms. Scroogette working twelve-hour days as a P.R. drone since graduating college nine years ago and Matt was even tighter plus he’d gotten that raise plus that IPO they got to invest in from one of Matt’s tech buddies had paid off, and they had just enough for the down payment and to qualify for financing.Mine!Including the tree.Holly struggled with a balky old brass handle—original hardware!—shoved a warped French door open, and stepped out into the yard. Making her way through the obstacle course of felled branches, death-browned leaves, and ragged pieces of bark, she reached the fence that separated her property from the neighbors.This was her first serious look at the mess, and it was even worse than she’d thought: The tree company had sawed away with abandon, allowing the chunks to fall on unprotected ground. The result was a whole bunch of holes—craters, a real disaster.Maybe she could use that to threaten a big-time lawsuit unless they carted everything away and cleaned up properly.She’d need a lawyer. One who’d take it on contingency . . . God, those holes were ugly, sprouting thick, wormy masses of roots and a nasty-looking giant splinter.She kneeled at the rim of the grossest crater, tugged at the roots. No give. Moving to a smaller pit, she dislodged only dust.At the third hole, as she managed to tug loose a thatch of smaller roots, her fingers brushed against something cold. Metallic.Buried treasure, aye aye, pirate booty! Wouldn’t that be justice!Laughing, Holly brushed away soil and rocks, revealed a patch of pale blue. Then a red cross. A few more strokes and the entire top of the metal thing came into view.A box, like a safe-deposit box but larger. Blue except for the red cross at the center.Something medical? Or just kids burying who-knew-what in an abandoned receptacle?Holly tried to budge the box. It shimmied but held fast. She rocked it back and forth, made some progress but was unable to free the darn thing.Then she remembered and went to the garage and retrieved the ancient spade from the stack of rusty tools left behind by the sellers. Another broken promise, they’d pledged to clean up completely, gave the excuse that the tools were still usable, they were just trying to be nice.Like Matt would ever use hedge clippers or a rake or a hand edger.Returning to the hole, she wedged the spade’s flat mouth between metal and dirt and put a little weight into the pry. A creak sounded but the box only budged a tiny bit, stubborn devil. Maybe she could pop the lid to see what was inside . . . nope, the clasp was held tight by soil. She worked the spade some more, same lack of progress.Back in the old days she would’ve borne down hard. Back when she did Zumba twice a week and yoga once a week and ran 10Ks and didn’t have to avoid sushi or carpaccio or latte or Chardonnay.All for you, Aimee.Now every week brought increasing fatigue, everything she’d taken for granted was an ordeal. She stood there, catching her breath. Okay, time for an alternative plan: Inserting the spade along every inch of the box’s edges, she let loose a series of tiny, sharp tugs, working methodically, careful not to strain.After two go-rounds, she began again, had barely pushed down on the spade when the box’s left side popped up and it flew out of the hole and Holly staggered back, caught off-balance.The spade fell from her hands as she used both arms to fight for stability.She felt herself going down, willed herself not to, managed to stay on her feet.Close call. She was wheezing like an asthmatic couch potato. Finally, she recovered enough to drag the blue box onto the dirt.No lock on the latch, just a hasp and loop, rusted through. But the rest of the box had turned green from oxidation, and a patch worn through the blue paint explained that: bronze. From the weight, solid. That had to be worth something by itself.Sucking in a lungful of air, Holly jiggled with the hasp until she freed it.“Presto-gizmo,” she said, lifting the lid.The bottom and sides of the box were lined with browned newspaper. Resting in the nest of clippings was something wrapped in fuzzy cloth—a satin-edged blanket, once blue, now faded mostly to tan and pale green. Purplish splotches on the satin borders.Something worth wrapping. Burying. Excited, Holly lifted the blanket out of the box.Feeling disappointed immediately because whatever was inside had no serious weight to it, scratch doubloons or gold bars or rose-cut diamonds.Laying the blanket on the ground, Holly took hold of a seam and unfurled.The thing that had been inside the blanket grinned up at her.Then it shape-shifted, oh God, and she cried out and it fell apart in front of her eyes because all that had held it together was the tension of the blanket-wrap.Tiny skeleton, now a scatter of loose bones.The skull had landed right in front of her. Smiling. Black eyeholes insanely piercing.Two minuscule tooth-thingies on the bottom ja... Views: 12
Russia, 1946, the Nazis recently defeated. Stalin gathers half a dozenof the top Soviet science fiction authors in a dacha in the countrysidesomewhere. Convinced that the defeat of America is only a few yearsaway, and equally convinced that the Soviet Union needs a massiveexternal threat to hold it together, to give it purpose and direction,he tells the writers: 'I want you to concoct a story about alienspoised to invade earth ... I want it to be massively detailed, andcompletely believable. If you need props and evidence to back it up,then we can create them. But when America is defeated, your story mustbe so convincing that the whole population of Soviet Russia believes init--the population of the whole world!' The little group of writersgets down to the task and spends months working on it. But then neworders come from Moscow: they are told to drop the project; Stalin haschanged his mind; forget everything about it. So they do. They get onwith their lives in their various ways; some of them survive theremainder of Stalin's rule, the changes of the 50s and 60s. And then,in the aftermath of Chernobyl, the survivors gather again, becausesomething strange has started to happen. The story they invented in1946 is starting to come true ... A typically mind-blowing SF novelfrom one of the genre's literary stars. Views: 12
A woman who's been burnt... Chloe Abrams has had quite enough rejection for one lifetime. These days, she's flying solo! A man who needs hope... Former soldier Ian Black was once the king of Manhattan. Then his PTSD caught up with him and his whole world crumbled. Now he's on a mission to rebuild it. A love worth risking everything for! Ian sweeps Chloe off her feet and makes her feel cherished. Dare she start to believe the most heartwarming truth of all--that the best men stick around forever? Views: 12
The #1 New York Times bestselling author Jonathan Kellerman writes razor-sharp novels that cut to the quick. Now comes Motive, which pits psychologist Alex Delaware and homicide cop Milo Sturgis against a vicious criminal mind--the kind only Kellerman can bring to chilling life. Even having hundreds of closed cases to his credit can't keep LAPD police lieutenant Milo Sturgis from agonizing over the crimes that don't get solved--and the victims who go without justice. Victims like Katherine Hennepin, a young woman strangled and stabbed in her home. A single suspect with a solid alibi leads to a dead end--one even Alex Delaware's expert insight can't explain. The only thing to do is move on to the next murder case--because there's always a next one. This time the victim is Ursula Corey: a successful, attractive divorceé who's been gunned down--not a robbery but an execution, a crime that smacks of simple, savage revenge. And along with that... Views: 12
