Carries Book Reviews

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Harleigh Sinclair and the Ice Crusade
Tamara Grantham
(Harleigh Sinclair, #2)
Publication date: March 5th 2024
Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Romance

Finding lost artifacts is my specialty, but when an Inuit artifact is hidden in the wilds of Alaska, finding it could be more difficult than I’ve bargained for.

My name is Harleigh Sinclair. I’ve been using my abilities as a Neotact to find ancient relics with special powers. After teaming up with a man named Jagg Ransom—a Crimson Knight with a mysterious past—we’re on the search for five lost artifacts with immense powers.

Our current quest takes us to a remote village in the Alaskan wilderness. But when we arrive, we’re greeted by angry villagers who blame us for the disappearance of one of their trackers. He’s been kidnapped by my former coworker, and the two are on the path to find the relic before us.

If we can’t find the relic first, the object will fall into the hands of an evil organization called the Blood Raiders. Worse, we’re not alone. The Inuit artifact is guarded by a giant beast of lore—one that would rather see us dead than accomplish our mission.

But failure isn’t an option. If the Blood Raiders succeed in obtaining the relic, they’ll use it in a plot to destroy the world as we know it.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo

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EXCERPT:

I stood at the doorway leading into the vaults of Mr. Walter Prescott’s most prized Neotact artifacts and debated how to steal one. Muted lights reflected over the black square of glass across from me. A hand scanner.

“No keypad. Right,” I said under my breath before pulling off my leather gloves. Air conditioning hummed from the vents of the high-rise tower in San Antonio’s downtown district, and I let the cool air wash over my exposed skin.

A cold shiver skittered down my spine, and I darted a glance at the dimly lit hallway stretching behind me. If things went south, it was my only escape. My new manager, King Khamron, had gotten me this far, but he’d stayed on the bottom floor near the building’s entrance to keep an eye out.

Shaking my head, I turned my attention to the scanner. The glass interface seemed to taunt me. My boss would kill me if I couldn’t break inside.

Why did it have to be a handprint scanner? Why couldn’t they use a no frills, super reliable—and easily hijacked—keypad?

As I concentrated, I sighed in frustration. A jolt of energy sparked through my fingertips. The electrical pulses had gotten stronger since I’d returned from Egypt two weeks ago, and I chalked it up to being exposed to the legendary ankh artifact. Darrell Brownstein, a convicted serial killer and Blood Raider, had planned to kill me with it, but instead, I’d used the ankh against him. He was dead now, along with a dozen of his followers.

Still, there were other Blood Raiders out there intent on taking the Neotact artifacts, which had led me to standing here at the vault of Walter Prescott, father of the famed Jagg Ransom, debating how to break in.

Jagg. I shook my head as an image of his ruggedly handsome face intruded on my memories. I hadn’t seen much of him since we’d returned from Egypt. A week ago, he’d told me he was traveling. Didn’t say where. Hadn’t even texted me since.

Long strands of brunette hair came loose from my ponytail and tickled my cheeks. As I pushed them away from my face, I once again attempted to concentrate on the hand scanner. Jagg Ransom was nothing but a distraction. The idea of turning around and telling King that I’d failed wasn’t a pleasant prospect.

I glanced up at the glass doors barring the vault. I could always break through the glass, but I was sure every security sensor in the building would start blaring the moment I did it.

No, I’d have to be creative about getting inside. I tapped my fingers on my lips, noticing the little electrical pulses popping at my skin like rubber bands. Odd that my powers were reacting this way after touching the ankh.

What if my ability isn’t just different? I asked myself. What if it’s more powerful?

With a deep inhale, I forced my doubts aside and placed my hand against the glass of the hand scanner. My heart raced, and I hoped the scanner couldn’t detect a person’s anxiety through its circuits. If so, I’d get fried in a heartbeat.

A yellow line glowed, starting at the top and moving down. I focused on sensing the last person’s hand that had touched the screen. Closing my eyes, I paid attention to the imprint of every swirl, every arch, every loop. Then, I sent a surge of energy into my hand, morphing it until it matched each of the previously used fingerprints.

I held my breath. If this didn’t work, and I got caught, I’d land in jail faster than I could blink.

Please work, please work, I chanted under my breath. Sweat beaded on my brow as I stared at the scanner.

Maybe it had been Jagg’s father’s hand that had been here. Maybe it had been Jagg himself. With that thought, my heart gave a sudden leap, and I could only imagine how angry Jagg Ransom would be if he knew I was breaking into his father’s prized vault.

Concentrate, I reminded myself, the yellow light still scanning up and down. A single beep chimed, and the light turned green. I released a pent-up breath. The door slid open with a mechanical hiss, revealing the interior of the vault.

 

Author Bio:

Tamara Grantham is the award-winning author of more than a dozen books and novellas, including the Olive Kennedy: Fairy World MD series, the Shine novellas, and the Twisted Ever After trilogy. Dreamthief, the first book of her Fairy World MD series, won first place for fantasy in INDIEFAB’S Book of the Year Awards, a RONE award for best New Adult Romance, and is a #1 bestseller on Amazon with over 200 five-star reviews.

Tamara holds a Bachelor’s degree in English from Lamar University. She has been a featured speaker at multiple writing conferences, and she has been a panelist at Comic Con Wizard World speaking on the topic of female leads. For her first published project, she collaborated with New York-Times bestselling author, William Bernhardt, in writing the Shine series.

Born and raised in Texas, Tamara now lives with her husband and five children in Wichita, Kansas. She rarely has any free time, but when the stars align and she gets a moment to relax, she enjoys reading fantasy novels, taking nature walks–which fuel her inspiration for creating fantastical worlds–and watching every Star Wars or Star Trek movie ever made. You can find her online at http://www.TamaraGrantham.com.

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GIVEAWAY!

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What do you know this is going to be another super quick post this week with only one new title added to my towering TBR. Now that I’ve found my restraint I feel like I am failing at tempting others though. 😂

As always clicking the covers will take you to the book on Amazon!**

New additions from Netgalley Mar 17th  – Mar 24th

A high octane sexy space heist from New York Times-bestselling author Beth Revis, the first in a novella trilogy

Ada Lamarr may have gotten to the spaceship wreck first, but looter’s rights won’t get her far when she’s got a hole in the side of her ship and her spacesuit is almost out of air. Fortunately for her, help arrives in the form of a government salvage crew—and while they reluctantly rescue her from certain death, they are not pleased to have an unexpected passenger along on their classified mission.

But Ada doesn’t care—all that matters to her is enjoying their fine food and sweet, sweet oxygen—until Rian White, the government agent in charge, starts to suspect that there’s more to Ada than meets the eye. He’s not wrong—but he’s so pretty that Ada is perfectly happy to keep him paying attention to her—at least until she can complete the job she was sent to pull off. But as quick as Ada is, Rian might be quicker—and she may not be entirely sure who’s manipulating who until it’s too late…

A phenomenally fun novella that kicks off a trilogy of sexy space heists and romantic tension, Full Speed to a Crash Landing is packed with great characters and full of twists and turns that will keep you guessing until the end.

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Title: Good Half Gone

Author: Tarryn Fisher

Publisher: Graydon House

Publication Date: March 19, 2024

Page Count:  312

My rating: 4 stars

About the book:

Iris Walsh saw her twin sister get kidnapped—so why does no one believe her?

Iris narrowly escaped her twin sister’s fate as a teen: abducted in broad daylight and long gone before she could convince the cops there was anything to investigate. With Piper presumed a runaway and no evidence to go on but Iris’s scattered memories, the case quickly goes cold.

Ever since that terrible day, Iris’ search for Piper has bordered on obsession. Chasing leads across years and following clues that all seem to point to a single name, Iris does everything she can to get close to the only person who might know the answer to the question that still haunts her: where did Piper go? And if the police still won’t help, she’ll just have to find the answer herself–using her criminal psychology degree to intern at the isolated psychiatric hospital on Shoal Island, where secrets lurk in the shadows and are kept under lock and key. But Iris soon realizes that something even more sinister is simmering beneath the surface of the Shoal, and that the patients aren’t the only ones being observed…

Find this book online:

Goodreads  /  Amazon  /   BookShop.org / Harlequin  / Barnes & Noble / Books A Million

Excerpt:

1 

“911, WHAT IS your emergency?” 

“Hello? Help me, please! They took my sister! Please hurry, I don’t know where they are. I can’t find them.” *rustling noise* *yells something* “Oh my god—oh my god. Piper!” 

“Ma’am, I need you to calm down so that I can understand you.” 

“Okay…” *crying* 

“Who took your sister?” 

“I don’t know! I don’t know them. Two guys. Dupont knows them, I—” 

“Miss, what is the address? Where are you?” 

“The theater on Pike, the Five Dollar…” *crying* “They took my phone, I’m calling from inside the theater.” 

“Wait right where you are, someone is going to be there to help shortly. Can you tell me what your name is?” 

*crying* 

“What is your name? Hello…?” 

*crying, indecipherable noises* 

“Can you tell me your name?” 

“Iris…” 

“What is your sister’s name, Iris? And how old is she?”

“Piper. She’s fifteen.” 

“Is she your older sister or younger sister… Iris, can you hear me?” 

“We’re twins. They just put her in a car and drove away. Please hurry.” 

“Can you tell me what kind of vehicle they were driving?” 

“I don’t know…” 

“—a van, or a sedan—?” 

“It was blue and long. I can’t remember.” 

“Did it have four doors or two… Iris?” 

“Four.” 

“And how many men were there?” 

“Three.” 

“I’m going to stay on the line with you until the officers get there.”

He leans forward, rouses the mouse, and turns off the audio on his computer. Click click clack. I was referred to Dr. Stanford a year ago when my long-term therapist retired. I had the option of finding a new therapist on my own or being assigned someone in the practice. Of course I considered breaking up with therapy all together, but after eight years it felt unnatural not to go. But I was a drinker of therapy sauce: a true believer in the art of feelings. I imagined people felt that way about church. At the end of the day, I told myself that a weird therapist was better than no therapist. 

I disliked Allen Stanford on sight. Grubby. He is the grownup version of the kindergarten booger eater. A mouth breather with a slow, stiff smile. I was hoping he’d grow on me. 

Dr. Stanford clears his throat. 

“That’s hard to listen to for me, so I can only imagine how you must feel.” 

Every year, on the anniversary of Piper’s kidnapping, I listen to the recording of the 911 call I made from the lobby of the Five Dollar. When I close my eyes, I can still see the blue diamond carpet and the blinking neon popcorn sign. 

“Do you want to take a break?”

“A break from what?” 

“It must be hard for you to hear that even now…” 

That is true, reliving the worst day of my life never gets easier. The smell of popcorn is attached to the memory, and I feel nauseated. A cold chill sweeps over me. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I nod once. 

“What happened after you hung up the phone?” 

“I waited…what else could I do? I was afraid they were outside waiting to take me too. My brain hadn’t fully caught up to what was happening. I felt like I was dreaming.” 

My voice is weighed down with shame; in the moments after my twin was taken, I was thinking of my own safety, worried that her kidnappers would come back. Why hadn’t I chased the car down the street, or at least paid attention to the license plate so I could give it to the cops? Hindsight was a sore throat. 

“I wanted to call Gran.” I shake my head. “I thought I was crazy because I’d dialed her number hundreds of times and I just… I forgot. I had to wait for the cops.” 

My lungs feel like they’re compressing. I force a deep breath. 

“I guess it took five minutes for the cops to get there, but if you asked me that day, I would have said it took an hour.” 

When I close my eyes, I can still see the city block in detail— smell the fry oil drifting across the street from the McDonald’s. 

“The cops parked their cruiser on the street in front of the theater,” I continue. “I was afraid of them. My mother was an addict—she hated cops. To certain people, cops only show up to take things away, you know?” 

He nods like he knows, and maybe he does, maybe he had a mom like mine, but for the last twenty years, he’s been going to Disney World—according to the photos on his desk—and that somehow disqualifies him in my mind as a person who’s had things taken away from him. 

I take another sip of water, the memories rushing back. I close my eyes, wanting to remember, but not wanting to feel— a fine line. 

I was shaking when I stumbled out of the theater and ran toward the cop car, drunk with shock, the syrupy soda pooling in my belly. My toe hit a crack in the asphalt and I rolled my ankle, scraping it along the side of the curb. I made it to them, staggering and crying, scared out of my mind—and that’s when things had gone from bad to worse. 

“Tell me about your exchange with the police,” he prompts. “What, if anything, did they do to help you in that moment?” 

The antiquated anger begins festering now, my hands fisting into rocks. “Nothing. They arrived already not believing me. The first thing they asked was if I had taken any drugs. Then they wanted to know if Piper did drugs.” 

The one with the watery eyes—I remember him having a lot of hair. It poked out the top of his shirt, tufted out of his ears. The guy whose glasses I could see my face in—he had no hair. But what they had both worn that day was the same bored, cynical expression. I sigh. “To them, teenagers who looked like me did drugs. They saw a tweaker, not a panicked, traumatized, teenage girl.”

“What was your response?” 

“I denied it—said no way. For the last six months, my sister had been hanging with a church crowd. She spent weekends going to youth group and Bible study. If anyone was going to do drugs at that point, it would have been me.” 

He writes something down on his notepad. Later I’ll try to imagine what it was, but for now I am focused. 

“They thought I was lying—I don’t even know about what, just lying. The manager of the theater came outside to see what was going on, and he brought one of his employees out to confirm to the police that I had indeed come in with a girl who looked just like me, and three men. I asked if I could call my gran, who had custody of us.” 

“Did they let you?” 

“Not at first. They ignored me and just kept asking questions. The bald one asked if I lived with her, but before I could answer his question, the other one was asking me which way the car went. It was like being shot at from two different directions.” I lean forward in my seat to stretch my back. I’m so emotionally spiked, both of my legs are bouncing. I can’t make eye contact with him; I’m trapped in my own story—helpless and fifteen. 

“The men who took my sister—they took my phone. The cops wanted to know how I called 911. I told them the manager let me use the phone inside the theater. They were stuck on the phone thing. They wanted to know why the men would take my phone. I screamed, ‘I have no idea. Why would they take my sister?’”

“They weren’t hearing you,” he interjects. 

I stare at him. I want to say No shit, Sherlock, but I don’t. Shrinks are here to edit your emotions with adjectives in order to create a TV Guide synopsis of your issues. Today on an episode of Iris in Therapy, we discover she has never felt heard! 

“I was hysterical by the time they put me in the cruiser to take me to the station. Being in the back of that car after just seeing Piper get kidnapped—it was like I could feel her panic. Her need to get away. They drove me to the station…” I pause to remember the order of how things happened. 

“They let me call my grandmother, and then they put me in a room alone to wait. It was horrible—all the waiting. Every minute of that day felt like ten hours.” 

“Trauma often feels that way.” 

“It certainly does,” I say. “Have you ever been in a situation that makes you feel that way—like every minute is an hour?” I lean forward, wanting a real answer. Seconds tick by as he considers me from behind his desk. Therapists don’t like to answer questions. I find it hypocritical. I try to ask as many as I can just to make it fair.

Excerpt from Good Half Gone by Tarryn Fisher. Copyright © 2024 by Tarryn Fisher. Published by Graydon House.

Good Half Gone by Tarryn Fisher is a thriller novel. The story in Good Half Gone is one that is told by alternating between a past and present timeline but only has one point of view from it’s main character.

As teenagers Iris and her twin sister Piper had gone out to meet some boys/men that Piper had wanted to see. Things do not go well that day when Iris witnesses her sister being taken by the men but when going for help no one believes a kidnapping took place with the police chalking it up to Piper running away.

Now almost a decade later Iris is grown and raising a child of her own with a help from her grandmother, the only other person who believed Piper was taken that day. Iris has spent years studying to be able to take an internship at Shoal Island Hospital for the criminally insane where she believes she’ll finally find the answers to what happened to Piper.

Good Half Gone is actually the second novel I’ve read by Tarryn Fisher and one that I took a leap of faith before reading since I enjoyed the first. You see, I’m not a huge fan of remote creepy hospital/asylum type settings but I was really curious so I took the chance. Thankfully what I found in this one was the same compelling suspenseful story that drew me in and kept the pages turning that I remembered with the first book. I will say though that if you are opposed to kind of over the top endings where one may have to suspend belief this may not be for you but I ended up enjoying this one more than I was worried I would.

I received an advance copy from the publisher via NetGalley.

About the author:

Tarryn Fisher is the New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of nine novels. Born a sun hater, she currently makes her home in Seattle, Washington, with her children, husband, and psychotic husky. She loves connecting with her readers on Instagram.

Author Website / Facebook / Instagram / Goodreads

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Title: One of the Boys

Author: Jayne Cowie

Publisher: Berkley

Publication Date: July 11, 2023

Page Count:  348

My rating: 5 stars

About the book:

If you could test your son for a gene that predicts violence, would you do it? From the author of Curfew comes a suspenseful, heart-wrenching novel about the consequences of your answer.

Antonia and Bea are sisters, and doting mothers to their sons. But that is where their similarities end.

Antonia had her son tested to make sure he didn’t possess the “violent” M gene.

Bea refuses to let her son take the test. She believes his life should not be determined by a positive or negative result.

These women will go to any length to protect their sons.

But one of them is hiding a monster.

And there will be fatal consequences for everybody….

One of the Boys by Jayne Cowie is a mystery/thriller novel that is set up in a science fiction dystopian world. In this world violence and crime is at a minimum when male children can be tested at birth to determine if they may turn into a criminal with violent tendencies.

Antonia and Bea are sisters who are living completely different lives from one another all thanks to the genetic testing of their sons. At birth Antonia had her son tested for the M gene and was lucky enough that her son came back with a negative test leaving every opportunity open to him in life.

Then on the other hand there is Bea who also had a son born but refused to get her son tested knowing that if there is a positive result her son’s life would be set on a course she wouldn’t be able to stop. Even without having a positive test though the untested are treated just as poorly leaving Bea and her family to scrape by.

One of the Boys is actually the second book I’ve read by Jayne Cowie and I’ve really enjoyed them both. I do believe that the thrilling side to the story is more prominent and definitely keeps the pages turning. However, I also really appreciate when a dystopian world is clear in the world building and the author certainly came up with a thought provoking world in which her characters live. I couldn’t help but become engaged in the story wondering how it would all turn out and now look forward to reading more from this author in the future.

I received an advance copy from the publisher via NetGalley.

Find this book online:

Goodreads  /  Amazon

About the author:

An avid reader and lifelong writer, Jayne Cowie also enjoys digging in her garden and making an excellent devil’s food cake. She lives near London with her family.

You can find her on Instagram as @CowieJayne

**This post contains Amazon affiliate links which will allow me as an associate to earn a small commission on any purchase made through the link of the products I share. This commission in no way changes the pricing of any items for the buyer.**

Current of Darkness
Robert Brighton
Publication date: March 19th 2024
Genres: Adult, Historical, Mystery

“Unforgettable female leads power this stellar historical mystery” (BookLife Reviews) by Robert Brighton, told with “writing that is on par with the cunning of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle” (Manhattan Book Review).

A swirling tale of industrial espionage, love, and betrayal, Current of Darkness follows aspiring sleuth Sarah Payne behind the sleek, honeymoon façade of Gilded Age Niagara Falls and into a shadowy demimonde of ruthless union bosses, saboteurs, and tycoons-including the powerful, handsome, and mysterious Charles Kendall, whose intentions toward Sarah are unclear.

Meanwhile, sultry widow Alicia Miller is set on taking charge of her murdered husband’s company-only to find herself pitted against the new majority owner, who has his own ideas about women in the world of men. But cunning and captivating Alicia has ideas, too-and will stop at nothing to come out on top.

Both women will have to find the courage and resourcefulness-and set aside their own simmering feud-to survive in this “winning story of action, sabotage, cutthroat business dealings, and women daring to be something new at the dawn of the American century” (BookLife Reviews).

A captivating, page-turning, and immersive tale of industrial espionage, love, and betrayal – set against the backdrop of the glittering Gilded Age. Current of Darkness will draw readers in, and hold them under, until its final, explosive pages.

Read the Avenging Angel Detective Agency Mysteries in any order.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble

—

ALICIA MAKES AN OMELET

Excerpted from Current of Darkness: Desire & Deceit in the Gilded Age

A Novel by Robert Brighton

© 2024 Copper Nickel, LLC. All Rights Reserved.

When Alicia got back to the front door of Miller Envelope Company, damned if the thing wasn’t unlocked. She jerked the door open and saw none other than her Majority Owner, Howie Gaines, crossing the lobby, his foot almost to the first tread of the staircase.

“Howie!” she called, and he turned.

“Mrs. Miller,” he said. “I hope you weren’t waiting. I usually get here early.”

“We’ll talk about that in a minute,” she said. “But you need to come with me first.”

He returned to the front door. “What’s wrong?” he said.

“Follow me,” she said, crooking a finger. Together they walked along the Division Street side of the building and back to the loading dock area. The cigarette smoker was sitting on the loading dock again, smoking another cigarette. When he spied Gaines, he stubbed out his smoke and jumped down. “Mr. Gaines,” he said. “Good morning.”

“Shevlin,” Gaines said. “Good morning to you.”

“Go get those other two men who were with you just now,” Allie said to Shevlin, waving the back of her hand in his direction. He eyed her and then glanced at Gaines, who nodded. Shevlin hopped up on the loading dock, still trailing smoke, and went into the depths of the factory, and reemerged with the lanky man and the other one in tow.

“What is this all about?” Gaines asked Alicia.

“Teaching a lesson,” she said as the two men shuffled onto the dock with Shevlin. Allie looked up at them. “Who are these men?” she said to Howie, who stood by looking puzzled.

“Utz, on the left, and Kiesler. They’re two of our best delivery men.”

“Mr. Shevlin, Mr. Utz, Mr. Kiesler,” Alicia said. “We weren’t properly introduced earlier. I’m Alicia Hall Miller. Miller as in Miller Envelope. You must know it—it’s your employer.”

The three men could almost be heard to swallow audibly. The lanky man, Kiesler, who seemed to occupy a leadership role, cleared his throat. “We’re sorry, ma’am, about . . . earlier. Didn’t know who you were.”

“I see,” Alicia said. “You’re sorry, then.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Kiesler said.

“And you two? Are you sorry, as well?”

Utz and Shevlin nodded, somewhat sheepishly, mumbling assent.

“Well, good. Thank you for that,” she said. “Now, guess what else you are? In addition to ‘sorry’?”

The men looked back at her blankly.

“You’re fired,” she said. “All three of you. Right now. Go collect whatever shit you have in your lockers and get out.” She looked at her watch. “You have precisely two minutes to leave my property. If you don’t, you’ll wish you had. The chief of police owes me at least one favor.”

Gaines touched her arm. “Mrs. Miller,” he said under his breath, “a word?”

“What do you want?” she said, jerking her arm away. “These men were insufferably rude to me just a few minutes ago.”

“You can’t hire and fire people,” Howie said quietly, his face quite crimson. “You’re a minority owner. You don’t have the authority to—”

“I won’t make a habit of it, Gaines,” she said, “but I just did fire them, and fired they will remain. Now do not challenge me on this, or we’re going to have a very bad first day together.”

The three men were looking at Gaines and Alicia’s little sidebar conference. Gaines turned back to them. “You heard her,” he said. “You’re dismissed.”

The men muttered a few choice words and disappeared into the building to collect their belongings. Allie and Gaines trudged back to the front entrance.

“Those are—were—three of our best workers, you know,” he said to her as they mounted the staircase inside. “Do you know how difficult it is to replace good laborers?”

“You can’t make an omelet without breaking a few eggs,” she said. “And do you know how difficult it is to replace customers? I don’t want anyone who represents our company to treat anyone in the way I was treated. It’s simply not acceptable. They merely picked on the wrong person today, but my guess is that they’re rude to everyone. And they’re the ones driving around delivering our product? Gaines, we need pleasant, polite people meeting our customers, not surly bastards like those three. And they’re lazy. Smokers are all lazy. Every last goddamn one of them.”

“Fine, fine,” Howie said, as they stood on the upper landing, outside their office. “I don’t disagree with you, but—”

“Then don’t,” Alicia said. “Don’t say, ‘I don’t disagree with you, ’and then begin disagreeing with me. I absolutely loathethat sort of thing. It reminds me of visitors who drop by and, after a few minutes, consult their watches and say, ‘Well, I’d better let you get back to your more pressing matters, ’or some such horseshit. They’re the ones with pressing matters, and they want to blame me for it. If I have pressing matters, I say so.”

Howie seemed perplexed.

“Do you understand, Gaines? It’s a simile. I’m drawing a comparison, so that you can understand what your new business partner hates.” One corner of her mouth rippled up.

“Yes, yes, I understand.”

“Then you know what I would like to do? When you introduce me to the company today—the whole staff—I am going to emphasize that every person who works here is going to treat everyone as though he were a customer. Or she. Or they’ll be hitting the bricks, just like Shevlin and company.”

“People aren’t going to like that,” he said, working the lock of their office door and putting his hand on the doorknob.

“Isn’t that their hard luck. Oh, and by the way”—she put her hand over his on the knob—“these offices open at 7:30, sharp. Not 7:45, not between 7:35 and 7:30. We can’t expect anyone else to be punctual and attentive to their jobs if we’re not. People look at us and decide what they can get away with. We have excellent streetcars here in Buffalo, and broad sidewalks, and so there’s no cause to be late. None. Understand?”

Howie smirked at her. “You will understand, Mrs. Miller, I don’t plan to be lectured by a minority owner—”

“It’s Alicia,” she said. “Or just Miller. Like any other business partner. Not Mrs. Miller. I’m not calling you Mr. Gaines, you can depend on that.”

“As you wish, Miller,” he said. “Now may I please go into my office?”

“It’s our office, and yes, you may.”

 

Author Bio:

Award-winning author Robert Brighton is an authority on the Gilded Age, and a great believer that the Victorian era was anything but stuffy. In his Avenging Angel Detective Agency Mysteries, Brighton exposes the turbulence of the era – its passions, dreams, and disasters – against a backdrop of careful research on the places, sights, sounds, and smells of the time.

When he is not walking the streets in the footsteps of the Avenging Angels, sniffing out unsolved mysteries, Brighton is an adventurer. He has traveled in more than 50 countries around the world, personally throwing himself into every situation his characters will face – from underground ruins to opium dens – and (so far) living to tell about it.

A graduate of the Sorbonne, Paris, Brighton is an avid student of early 20th Century history and literature, an ardent and relentless investigator, and an admirer of Emily Dickinson and Jim Morrison. He lives in Virginia with his wife and their two cats.

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