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review 2017-07-18 14:10
Gary Gianni's Monstermen and Other Scary Stories
Gary Gianni's Monstermen and Other Scary Stories - Gary Gianni,Gary Gianni

Gary Gianni's Monstermen and Other Scary Stories was a real treat! I knew nothing about what to expect from this volume, (knowing nothing about the Hellboy series, in which these comics were originally released), so I went in with no preconceptions. I was seriously impressed. Here's why:

 

First, I LOVED the stories! The first 2/3 of this are different comics featuring a movie director named St. Lawrence, (who looks a lot like Vincent Price, BTW, and who you would think belonged in the 30's expect for the occasional glimpse of technology), and his friend Benedict a member of the Corpus Monstrum guild. Benedict is an immortal knight and always wears his knight helmet and a tuxedo. (I need to learn more about the background of this character because he was a blast to read about.) Together they fend off plagues of falling skulls, and other monstrous creatures.

 

 

 

 

Second, the last third of the book contains illustrated classic stories by the likes of Clark Ashton Smith, Robert E. Howard, and William Hope Hodgson. I LOVED these! When reading these short stories, I couldn't help but notice how the first 2/3 of the book carried the exact same pulpy, adventure feel that these classic stories originally created. I think Gianni did a beautiful job of carrying on that feel in his comics and in his illustrations of these pulp shorts. In a way, I feel like these were his way of paying tribute to what came before, while also making them his own.

 

Again, I went into this with no preconceptions. I came away with much admiration and respect. I'm going to eventually read the Hellboy comics and I'm definitely going to search out Mr. Gianni and see what else he has on offer, because whatever it is, I'm in!

 

Highly recommended, especially to fans of the classic pulp short stories and to fans of incredible artwork.

 

You can get your copy here: Gary Gianni's Monstermen and Other Scary Stories

 

*Thank you to Edelweiss and to Dark Horse Comics for the e-ARC of this volume in exchange for my honest review. This is it!*

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review 2017-07-17 18:52
The Mothman’s Story is Complete – A Desolate Hour by Mae Clair @MaeClair1
A Desolate Hour (Point Pleasant) - Mae C... A Desolate Hour (Point Pleasant) - Mae Clair

A Desolate Hour by Mae Clair is the final story of The Mothman and Point Pleasant series.

 

If you love creature features and ‘true’ myths and legends, this series is for you.

 

Preorder for July 18, 2017 release.

 

 

A Desolate Hour (Point Pleasant, #3)

Amazon  /  Goodreads

 

MY REVIEW

 

This is the third book in the series, and the finale, so I will do my best to not include spoilers. Just make you want to run right out and buy this mystery series. If you are a creature feature lover, like me, this will be a must read collection you want on your reading shelf.

 

It’s nice to be back in Point Pleasant, with familiar friends and monsters, waiting for the next adventure to begin.

 

Book II left me feeling so sad for Mothman and I worry about what will become of him. He has lived for A Thousand Yesteryears, the only one of his kind.

 

The Ouija Board had foretold QM would become a part of Sarah’s life. WTH is QM?

The curse brought HIM to Point Pleasant.

 

Caden is a cop in Point Pleasant and knows the Mothman, and others, that I won’t speak about. You’ll have to meet them all yourself…and you might want to have someone with you when you do.

 

Lach is back and there is always trouble when he makes an appearance.

 

Stone amulets…a deadly blade…a curse

 

Shawn and Preech will play their part as the curse rises from the past, demanding retribution. You can never escape the past…innocent or guilty, it just doesn’t matter.

 

A Desolate Hour, great title by the way, has an aura of menace from the beginning.

 

“A Desolate Hour when a tear in time renders past and present in one.” How can that be anything but bad news?

 

When Mothman vanishes for long periods of time and everything is normal in Point Pleasant, I wonder where he goes, what he’s doing. He didn’t ask for his fate. Alone. Isolated. Angry. Suffering.

 

As the people and forces in Point Pleasant draw together, it is ‘the culmination of A Desolate Hour’, and the door closes on the Mothman’s story. Mae Clair did a bang up job with the ending, leaving me satisfied, but…

 

I am so sad to be leaving Point Pleasant and the marvelous characters and adventure I have had, but I do not despair. I know Mae Clair has another marvelous story up her sleeve and I aim to get my hands on it.

 

If you are a creature feature lover, if you crave reading about myths and legends, if you like to be scared and surprised, run and soar through the air, this is one series you don’t want to miss.

 

I voluntarily reviewed a copy of A Desolate Hour by Mae Clair.

 

Animated Animals. Pictures, Images and Photos  5 Stars

 

Read more here.

 

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Source: www.fundinmental.com/the-mothmans-story-is-complete-a-desolate-hour-by-mae-clair-maeclair1
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text 2017-07-14 16:15
Feature Friday for Lily Luchesi's Last Rites with Excerpt and Interview

 

Today for “Feature Friday” let us welcome the wonderful Lily Luchesi with her book Last Rites, the 5th book in the Paranormal Detectives series.

We will have info about the book and author. Plus we have a interview with Lily and a great excerpt from the book. 

Make sure to check everything out and go and show her some love and add her books to your TBR  ;) 

Happy Reading :) 

 


 

 

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Power is the deadliest desire. With Leander put to rest and the Paranormal Investigative Division taken care of by the Coven Mistress, Danny and Angelica are finally ready to take some time for themselves while Angelica gets used to her new role as the Empress and they make their relationship official. When people close to Angelica are murdered by what seems to be a rogue vampire, their sabbatical is cut short in order for her to find the perp and execute him or her. But this is no ordinary vampire. When the truth is revealed and secrets come to light, it will prove to be Danny's biggest test of faith yet, and Angelica's reckoning of her past, present, and future. Most of all it will raise a single question: just what makes a monster?

 

 

 

Buy Link

 

                                     

 

Hello Lily. Thank you for taking the time to stop in and chat with us, it is lovely to have you. 

 

Does writing energize or exhaust you?

Both. It really depends on the scene. If I have a really good action scene I will be bouncing off the walls. However, I have written about abuse and panic attacks, which always leave me exhausted when I’m done. I suffer from multiple forms of mental illness, so writing about the things I experience can be draining. In book four of my Paranormal Detectives Series, Right To Silence, a character is kidnapped and has severe flashbacks that leave her an anxiety-ridden mess. But I love it; the darkness is what I hope makes my characters relatable.

 

How did publishing your first book change your process of writing?

I learned a lot about editing. I learned that editing as I write decreases the amount of time I have to spend once the first draft is done to self-edit. That’s the most important thing that changed for me. I have a cleaner first draft and can eliminate an extra draft, which frees up two weeks of my time.

 

What kind of research do you do, and how long do you spend researching before beginning a book?

I am a big fan of “write what you know”. Most of my locations in my Paranormal Detectives Series I have either visited or lived in, except for England. My research could possibly make me wind up in jail one day. A lot of questions about biology related to murder, mostly.

For my upcoming release in December, Never Again, I had to do more research than ever before on WWII, Germany, Judiasm, and what life was like in the 1940s. It was fun but extremely hard to read when it came to some of the actions of the Nazis.

 

If you didn’t write, what would you do instead?   Are there any other talents you are hiding from us?

I would either be a child psychologist or a professional cook. I love psychology and I LOVE food. I have been in the kitchen since I was a toddler and cooking is something I do to relax.

Music is another love of mine, but I have little talent for it.

 

Do you read your book reviews? How do you deal with bad or good ones?

I only read reviews if the reviewer tells me to go take a look. My ARC readers, also known as my Vamplets, always send me their reviews and I love reading them. They don’t give me all five stars, which is what I love.

Occasionally I will see a not so great review, I have had people write and tell me they couldn’t finish a book, and that’s okay. No piece of art can please everyone. I’m just grateful that I have readers at all!

 

This was fun, again thank you so much for taking the time to chat. You rock!

 

 

 

 

“I have watched you for two centuries, unable to approach until your destiny had been fulfilled.” Angelica was dumbstruck. She had known much of this information, how Augustus’ line had gone back to mortality, but he had watched her? Since birth? Stalked her family until the prophecy was fulfilled? “First of all, that was quite creepy of you. Second, why did you wait? It has been three years since I was fully turned. What stayed your hand?” she asked. Drinking from his chalice, he paused. “At first, I lost you after the battle in Scotland. And when I found you again, I could not be seen by Hell’s Lieutenant. I betrayed Lucifer, by accepting his contract and then breaking it with my own immortality. Once you neutralized Leander, I knew I could come to you as I wished, without threat of attack.” That did not sound right. “So again you hid, instead of helping me fight off Hell? Leander has been dead for months. The only sign I received from you was a trail of dead mortals!” He smirked, dark eyes glinting. “You were touted as the best hunter on Earth. I just wanted to see how good you were. I had not expected you to bring me prey.” Angelica shot up from her chair. “Don’t you dare even think about touching Danny!” Emperor or not, all-powerful or not, he could easily be decapitated, and she would not let herself forget that fact. His neck was no more protected than hers. “I have my Consort, and he is being held in your little room up there. If you want any sort of allegiance with me, you will leave him alone. If you even attempt to harm one hair on his head, I will finish the job Livia failed at!” In a flash, faster than even she could perceive, she was pushed up against the wall, next to the painting of Livia. Augustus was holding his hands on either side of her head, leering down at her, eyes so deep she felt as though he could sense her every thought. He was not touching her, yet she had never felt more trapped. Her heart rate increased and she felt her breathing speed up. She was unsure if it was from fear or something else she could not bear to name. Angelica was used to being in complete control, even when facing Hell’s Lieutenant or demonic witches. The only time she ever voluntarily gave up that control was to Danny, whom she trusted implicitly. Here, with Augustus, she felt as though all her control had been shattered. She despised this feeling, but knew she was, at the moment, powerless to stop it. “The fact that you dare to threaten me shows that you are indeed my true Empress. Beautiful, strong, and stubborn.” His voice was a low growl in her ear, and she felt his breath tickling her neck, sending shivers down her spine. His thrall was incredible, and she could not believe that she could also do this with just a few words one day. His voice was silky and dark, undoing her mind there in that comfortable dungeon. She dug her nails into her palms, briefly cutting the skin, grounding her to reality. She must not allow him to glamour her, or else it would be over. “I am not yours,” she spat at him. “I never will be. I don’t give a damn who my ancestor was, that does not predispose me to be your property!” He shook his head. “Oh, my dear, you are not my property. You are my equal. My only equal on this Earth.” That dark part of her mind, the part that had always sought power, was intrigued by the thought that she was the equal of the first true vampire. The rest of her was appalled that he would consider himself equal to her. He lad left a trail of bodies in his wake for miles across Chicago, and Lord only knew how many more in all the long years he’d lived. Any vampire who had to kill for food any time after the nineteenth century was evil, plain and simple. “Do you know why I have to feed so much, so often?” His voice was low, nought but a purr. “It is because none can satisfy me for long aside from my Empress. I have just consumed two large goblets of blood. And yet you can feel, I am much colder than you are, and you have not had blood since you wakened.” He touched her gently, running icy cold fingers along her cheek, down her neck, stopping at her pulse, which quickened at his touch. He was cold, far colder than she had ever been. “That is not true,” she said, barely able to get the words out. “I am fully satisfied by Danny’s blood: one pint, twice a day.” “Liar,” his voice slithered into her ear. “You cannot take that much blood from a mortal daily. He would be dead after a week.” His fingers pressed harder into her throat, and she knew he felt the Undead blood rushing in her veins just as much as she could hear his. “You have no idea what it feels like to be truly sated. Indeed, it has been so long, I almost forgot myself.” Angelica knew what was coming, and she felt him move back, just for a second, giving her enough time to move away from his proximity. If asked, she would say she did not remember why she stayed put, except for the fact that she was genuinely curious about what was going to happen next. With one cold hand, Augustus held her head to the side and sank his fangs deep into her long neck. She felt it all in slow motion: the first initial pain of tearing flesh, the shock of her blood being drawn into another’s body, and the rush of pleasure she received from those two sensations mixed together. She gasped at the sensations, the pleasure-pain. She had never been bitten fully, just a nip here and there from perps trying to take her blood and the powers it held for their own. This was an entirely new sensation rushing in her heart and mind, her body betraying her thoughts. All she wanted was to lose herself in this feeling, but her mind grounded her to the situation, barely. She felt him chuckle against her skin before he pulled his mouth away from her neck, licking the blood that dripped down her creamy flesh. When he faced her, she saw through glazed eyes that her dark blood covered his lips, sending a jolt of heat to her stomach. Traitor, she thought viciously to her body. His hand still held her face, but it was no longer as cold as marble. It was warm, as warm as Danny was when he held her. It was hard to believe that she had done this, that her Undead blood had given life. “Nothing more invigorating than the lifeblood of your soul mate,” he said. “Do you want to know how it feels?” Yes. “No.” He laughed again. “You are not very convincing, Angelica.” He held her at the waist, and his touch was feather light, but with the promise of brute strength there in his lean frame. She knew he could kill her with a look if he wanted to. The idea terrified and thrilled her. He held his other hand up, letting her go for a second to undo the cuffs of his jacket and shirt sleeve, exposing his wrist. Evidently, he did not trust her near his throat. Smart man. “Taste and you will understand,” he said, holding his wrist close to her mouth. Blood was power. His powers lay in what ran through his veins, and he was a fool to offer even a taste of that power to the Empress. Yes, she wanted a taste, but not to feel life. She wanted to feel his power in her veins. Feeling her fangs elongate with little mental encouragement, she leaned forward and placed them over his veins, piercing the skin. She tasted his blood, warmed thanks to her, and it was like electricity and fire, and like the finest wine it sent a warmth throughout her body. However, this was not a new feeling for her. This was how Danny’s blood made her feel every day, every time she tasted him: satisfied and lively. Alive. She moved her mouth from his veins and went to speak, but before she could get a word out, his lips covered hers, mingling their blood together in one incredibly hot kiss. The feeling of tasting her own blood was somewhat uncomfortable, but she could not deny the perverse pleasure she was feeling. It was not unlike how she felt when she kissed Danny after drinking from his veins. Danny! Her mind struggled to get out of the deep thrall Augustus had her under, and she felt her vampire claws dig into his arm, tearing the fabric of his expensive clothes in the process. Growling in pain, he moved back quickly, dark eyes burning red. Just red irises, not like the black and red of a normal vampire. Angelica made a note of that, right before she noted the fact that she was most likely about to be murdered in a second. Surprising her, he simply massaged the wounds that were already healed. His blood dripped from her fingertips, deepening the red of the carpet. “Cunning, using such a physical moment to attack me. You intrigue me, Angelica,” he said, his eyes returning to normal. “You glamour me into being pliant, and yet you call me cunning? You tried to fool the Empress! I might intrigue you, but you impress me,” she replied, maintaining the outward calm and in control appearance she had always found to serve her well. To drive in her blase outer appearance, she licked his blood from her fingertips. He did not respond, and was even so bold as to turn his back on her as he pressed a button in the wall. Not a moment later, the thralled maid came to the dungeon door. “Please escort the Empress to the exit. And make sure you release her...Consort.” If it was possible, he managed to imbue that one word with dripping sarcasm. Angelica arched an eyebrow. “You are releasing us?” “A true Empress cannot also be a captive, and by releasing your little mortal plaything, I believe I can expect a bit more cooperation and camaraderie from you than if I simply drained him to a husk as I would very much like to.” He smirked. “We are not done here, Angelica.” “No, we are not,” she agreed. She turned, but he called her back. “Just one more thing, my dear: at no point since we met have I ever consciously or otherwise tried to glamour you. Indeed, if I tried, I would find myself unsuccessful. Neither of us can put the other in thrall. It is impossible. You cannot glamour your soul mate.”

 

 

 

 

Lily Luchesi is a young author/poet born in Chicago, Illinois, now residing in Los Angeles, California. Ever since she was a toddler her mother noticed her tendency for being interested in all things "dark". At two she became infatuated with vampires and ghosts, and that infatuation turned into a lifestyle. She is the award-winning author of the Paranormal Detectives Series, published by Vamptasy Publishing. She also has short stories included in the following anthologies: Death Love Lust, Naughty Bedtime Stories: In Three Words, Naughty Bedtime Stories: Four You, Lurking in the Shadows, Lurking in the Mind, Black Magic, Weirdbook #35, and Beautiful Nightmares. When she's not writing, she's going to rock concerts, getting tattooed, watching the CW, or reading manga. And drinking copious amounts of coffee.

 

Links

Website *** Facebook *** Twitter *** Instagram *** Goodreads *** Amazon

Snoopydoo sigi

Source: snoopydoosbookreviews.com/feature-friday-lily-luchesis-last-rites-excerpt-interview
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text 2017-07-07 14:05
Feature Friday for Steve Levi's The Matter of the Deserted Airliner with Excerpt

 

Today for “Feature Friday” let us welcome Steve Levi  with his book The Matter of the Deserted Airliner.

We will have info about the book and author. A great excerpt from the book. 

Make sure to check everything out and go and show him some love and add the book to your TBR  ;) 

 

Happy Reading :) 


 

 

 

 

An airplane with no pilot, crew or passengers lands at Anchorage International Airport. As the authorities are pondering the circumstances of the arrival, a ransom demand is made for $25 million in diamonds and precious stones. Chief of Detectives for the Sandersonville, North Carolina, Police Department, Captain Heinz Noonan, is visiting his in-laws in Anchorage when he is called onto the case. For the next 36 hours, he pieces together the puzzle of how the crime was committed. But can he solve the crime, free the hostages and locate the perpetrators before the ransom is paid? [Novel in print.]

 

 

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Buy Links

 

 

Book available to purchase 

 

 

HERE 

 

 

 

 

Just because something is obvious does not make it true.

. . . Detective Heinz Noonan

Time with in-laws is not called vacation; it’s called obligation. Every family is dysfunctional, some more than others. But those others are usually called in-laws. You refer to them as people with whom you would never associate unless you were linked by marriage. You can ignore the shortcomings of your own family. After all, you are related to them by blood. Your in-laws are a different kettle of fish. The best defense against in-laws is a good offense. Perhaps the best example of a successful campaign was Ferenc Molnar, the Hungarian dramatist and novelist. When he became famous he was besieged by his in-laws. When they came en mass to his hotel in Paris they were surprised to be treated so well by their now-famous–and now-rich–relative. He even insisted they sit for a group portrait. After they left he gave the photograph to the hotel doorman and said, “Whenever you see any of the persons in this picture trying to get into the hotel, don’t let them in.” Captain Noonan, the "Bearded Holmes" of the Sandersonville Police Department, was up to his ears in in-laws. He had been looking forward to a pleasant two weeks with those in-laws in Anchorage, Alaska. He was looking forward to it being pleasant but he was sure he wasn’t going to get much pleasure out of it. After all, he had to put up with his four sisters-in-law and their families along with a gaggle of collaterals who wasted his time demanding he talk of old cases, new theories or prognostication of where criminal forensics was going in the next millennium. However, there was a very big upside. The in-laws all lived in Anchorage which was a l-o-n-g way from Sandersonville, North Carolina. Alaska is a long way from anywhere. It is also a long way from anywhere so crowded you felt as though you were living on an ant hill. It had just enough cabs you can always find one, few enough people you do not have to wait for a table in a restaurant and the largest, most delicious fish in the world which could be caught within city limits. As long as Noonan visited the northland when it was the Land of Midnight Sun the vacation was pleasurable. In July the sun came up at 1 a.m. and did not set until 4 a.m. He took this on faith because he made it a point not to be up and about at either 1 a.m. or 4 a.m. All he knew for sure was during the summer the sun did not rise in the East and set in the West. It circled the sky so you could never tell what time it was by looking at the position of the sun in the sky. Like Palm Springs, you were best served with sunglasses all day. Unlike Palm Springs, the temperature rarely got up to 80 degrees and the clouds came and went as the wind pleased, clouds and wind not being part of a Palm Springs summer. Noonan had absolutely no desire whatsoever to visit Alaska when it was the land of ice and snow. It wasn’t so much the cold bothered him; he’d grown up in Maine and spent three years with the Army in Butte, Montana. He had no problem with cold and snow. But he did have a problem with darkness. Even on the coldest days in Butte the sun did come up. In a lot places in Alaska, the sun did not rise or set during the winter. Because of the tipping of the earth on its axis, during the winter Alaska was the most distant swatch of land from the sun. This meant sunrises were later and sunset earlier the later in the year it was. In Barrow, the furthest north community, there were 67 days when the sun never came up at all. Even in Anchorage it was not unusual for the sun to rise at 10:30 a.m. and set at 2:30 p.m. If you worked in a building with no windows and did not take your lunch outside, it was possible to go through an entire week and not see the sun at all. You would go to work in the morning dark and return home in the evening dark. If you did this for too many weeks and you would get what Alaskans call cabin fever, a type of claustrophobia brought about by being trapped in a cabin in a dark land for four or five months. Stephen King made cabin fever a well-known phenomenon with THE SHINING and the basic theme repeats in movies of people lost on desert islands or during long voyages on space ships. What will make cabin fever worse is being stuck with your in-laws in the same cabin. Then it doesn’t have to be just in a cabin during the winter. It could happen on a crowded cruise liner anchored off Acapulco. That being said, Noonan was not in Acapulco. He was in Anchorage. So were his in-laws. This was a prescription for disaster if one did not temper his vocabulary. This particular morning had not started well. The “bearded Holmes” was slowly working his way through the morning copy of the Anchorage Tribune, the local newspaper with the thickness of a napkin, as he sat on the white wood bench in his mother-in-law's gazebo. The gazebo was the only place he was safe from children, in-laws and the gaggle of neighbors because it was so small. Small enough to give someone cabin fever if they spent the winter there. Or an afternoon listening to in-laws and neighbors. Looking up from the paper Noonan was displeased to see his son Fritz coming toward him with a cell phone. Cell phones were a blessing when you were at work but the spawn of the Devil between 5 p.m. and 9 a.m. The only people who used them between those hours were wives and salespeople. Of all the years he had owned a cell phone he had yet to receive one cheery message after 5 and before 9. When he did get a call between those hours it was either his wife demanding he pick something up at the grocery store on his way home or a late assignment from the office, something the Commissioner wanted done Right Now which always could have waited until the next day. Or the Second of Never. Fritz, the oldest of his twins – by three minutes – handed him a cellular telephone. Handed, however, was a polite of way describing how the possession of the phone was transferred. Thrown would have been a better verb. One moment the lord of the North Carolina manor was pleasantly reading what business page there was in a paper the thickness of tissue paper and the next he was clawing for a telephone the size of a pack of cards as it somersaulted toward him through the air. Today he was in luck. The phone was actually headed in his direction. The day before he had been forced to root around in the rhubarb to find the phone by tracing the outraged voice coming from the other end of the electronic beam. Had Fritz been younger, he would have tossed the phone like a sack of sand. Now, at 13, the phone-to-dad transfer was a casual lob, not quite a lateral but, considering his growing size, the transfer would be honed in high school in the fall. Noonan dropped the newspaper and bobbled the instrument one-handedly because the other was full of coffee cup. He finally secured the phone between the heel of his left hand and collar bone. He shouted an exclamation at which his wife would have frowned as Fritz made a mad dash for the garden gate, fishing pole in one hand and king salmon net in the other. Ever since Fritz and his brother Otto had discovered Alaska was famous for its salmon –king, red and silver – they were spending every moment of their vacation with their grandfather on the Chulitna River. Each morning they would pile into the old man's pickup and head north. Every evening they would arrive home dog-tired and covered with mosquito bites and more stories than fish. Clearly the only thing stalling the trio this morning was this phone call. Dad now had his phone so they were like the Hittites: history. In fact, Fritz had crashed out of the back yard so fast the phone was still mid-air when the good captain heard the back gate slam and the instantaneous roar of Grandpa's pickup as it backed out of the driveway. Actually, it was perfectly acceptable for Noonan for his kids to go fishing with their grandfather. This kept three of the family out from underfoot all day. His wife, Lorelei, was usually off with her childhood friends, Alaskans all, and this was fine as well because it got her out of his way. All day. The litter of in-laws were working, or pretending to work, and their kids were in summer school or art camp. All of these circumstances kept them from being at bay until supper time. It was what made a vacation a vacation: being with the family without having to be around them. There was, however, one significant drawback to being in Alaska and it was a dilly. With everyone else gone, it left the Captain alone with his mother-in-law. While it was true she could not be described as a stunning conversationalist, she could not be called a wall flower either. In fact and unfortunately, she was like a shark in a feeding frenzy when she got her chance to talk. Now, with husband, daughter and grandchildren gone from her home, she would lurk in the bushes waiting for someone to engage in a lengthy, inane conversation, the bulk of which was one-sided. While the Chief of Detectives desired nothing more for his vacation than the silence of the Alaskan wilderness, what he got was an ongoing verbal onslaught of kindness, advice, concern and suggestions from the time his family left in the morning for their various adventures until they returned in the evening at which time his mother-in-law would have exhausted her store of advice and slipped into the blessed lethargy of 40 years of connubial bliss. Noonan suspected his father-in-law looked at him sympathetically in the evenings but as the old man was the perfect grandfather – other than the moments when he would delight the kids by flopping onto his back on a picnic table and proceed to arf like a seal, his arms and legs flailing like flippers – Noonan had no complaints of the old man. Thus it was with great enthusiasm that Captain Heinz Noonan, Chief of Detectives of the Sandersonville Police Department and one of America's top crime fighters, hiding behind the white lattice of his mother-in-law's gazebo was pleased to get a phone call. Any phone call. At the very least it meant he would not have to converse with the walking catalog of trivia of his mother-in-law. Speaking of which – at this very instant – he could see her cutting her way toward him through the clover. It would only be a moment before she lumbered into the gazebo full of enough advice, concern and suggestions for a year of newspaper columns. "Hello." "Captain Noonan?" "I hope so. Otherwise I’ve got someone else’s ID.” "I hate to break into your vacation, Captain." Noonan looked through the trellis at his approaching mother-in-law and said with gusto and volume, "Not a problem. What can I do for you? Or rather, who are you?" "This is Ayanna Driscoll. I'm the head of Airport Security here at the Anchorage International Airport. I've got kind of an odd story but I can assure you . . ." As soon as he was assured he could stretch this phone call long enough to dissuade his mother-in-law for a least another 15 minutes, Noonan stepped out from behind the white bracing of the gazebo and gave a planned, surprised look and pointed at the cellular phone with his coffee cup-filled hand. He gave a helpless "sorry but I can't talk now" look and gesture. His mother-in-law got the message and broke off her approach to the gazebo. With great satisfaction, Noonan smiled as she turned her back to him and began walking back toward the house lost in a grove of evergreens. "Ms. Driscoll,” “Call me Ayanna.” “OK, Ayanna, every story I get is odd. Give me what you've got." "Your name was given to me by the Anchorage Police Commissioner, Charles Dabenshire. I know him casually and professionally. He suggested I give you a call. He knows you're on vacation at your in-laws here in town but . . .” "Crime doesn't take a vacation. Yeah, sounds like Charlie, work first.” He paused for a moment, looking at his retreating mother-in-law. “As it happens," he continued, “I've got nothing but time today." "This might not take long. Actually, at this point it's more of a ‘what's going on here?’ problem." "That’s the way the big problems always start. Tell me what’s happened.” “OK. At about 01:15 this morning Unicorn Flight 739 from SEATAC landed in Anchorage after routine instructions." "Meaning?" "Oh, I'm sorry. I'm talking jargon. Before a plane lands there is a flurry of communication, mostly about local weather conditions, wind speed and direction, if there is any ice on the runway, which runway to use, at which gate to dock and other routine information." "Go on." "Unicorn 739 landed without incident. It rolled into Gate A-17, shut down its engines and then just sat there." "Just sat there?" "Right. As in nothing happened. The ground crew cranked the walkway out to the fuselage door and waited for it to open. It didn't. The ground crew assumed it was jammed on the inside so they tried to raise the pilot by radio and intercom but got no answer. Then they tried waving to the pilot through the terminal window but there was no pilot in the cockpit." "Is this unusual?" "Not really. We do have doors stick every once in a while – events we do not mention to the FAA – but it does happen. Not being able to reach the pilot by radio or intercom is a bit unusual too but not surprising. The pilot and co-pilot could have left their seats, say to go to the restroom. If she didn't have her headphones on – the pilot was a woman, by the way – it is also possible." "It's always good to see women in the workplace," Noonan said. "Go on." "We tried to wave through a terminal window to the pilot but the cockpit was empty. It’s a bit out of the ordinary since there's a lot of shutting down before the pilot and crew can leave the plane. When we finally got into the plane we found it empty. That, I must say, was unusual." "Empty?" "Yes, sir. Empty. As in no one on board." "I thought you said . . ." "I did. It was a routine landing. The pilot and the control tower had a standard conversation. The aircraft followed all the rules right down to the docking procedure. There was no one on board when the ground crew finally made it into the plane." "No one?" "Not a soul." "Can someone get out of an airplane without being seen, like through an emergency exit?" "There weren't any emergency exits open but there are a few ways to get out of an airplane without using an emergency exit. We assume the pilot exited through the wheel well. We didn't see anyone on the control tower security camera tape so we have to assume whomever was flying the plane just kept under the aircraft until she got to the terminal overhang and just walked through the baggage holding area like she belonged there. The security cameras are there to keep people from heading the other way – in from the street, not out from the aircraft. If the pilot was dressed like the ground crew, no one would have been the wiser. After all, we didn't know there was a problem until we couldn't get the main hatch open. It was long enough to give our girl about three or four minutes to make a clean getaway." "Now you want to know where the pilot is?" "Not really. We want to know where the 89 passengers and crew of 6 are."

 

 

 

 

Steven C. Levi is an Alaskan historian and writer. He has lived in Alaska for more than four decades and has more than 80 books in print and on Kindle. His nonfiction books on Alaska history include BOOM TO BUST IN THE ALASKA GOLD FIELDS, an historical forensic investigation into the sinking of Alaska’s ghost ship, the Clara Nevada, as well as a history of Alaska’s bush pilot heritage, COWBOYS OF THE SKY, a “Battle of the Books” winner in 2008. His flying books include a technical how-to for flying in Alaska, BUSH FLYING, and a biography of legendary bush pilot Archie Ferguson. Levi currently teaches for Central Texas College and has taught for Chapman College, University of Alaska Anchorage and Embry Riddle Aeronautical University. His flying fiction incudes BAIT, the saga of a kidnapped bush pilot, and most recently, THE MATTER OF THE DESERTED AIRLINER, an impossible crime in which a 737 lands in Anchorage with no pilot, crew or passengers – and extortionists demand $25 million for the return of the hostages.

 

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Source: snoopydoosbookreviews.com/feature-friday-steve-levis-matter-deserted-airliner-excerpt
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review 2017-07-02 23:58
Tag Team Event for Dinosaur Lake IV by Kathryn Meyer Griffith @KathrynG64
Dinosaur Lake IV: Dinosaur Wars (Volume ... Dinosaur Lake IV: Dinosaur Wars (Volume 4) - Kathryn Meyer Griffith,Dawne Dominique

 

Welcome to our Tag Team Event and Giveaway.

This is where Laura and I share our reviews and giveaways, giving you two perspectives of the featured book and two chances to win.

~~~

 

Kathryn Meyer Griffith is a prolific writer, but I must say that her Dinosaur Lake series is my favorite.

 

If you are a creature feature fan, these will be a MUST READ on your shelf.

 

You can get the first book FREE. You can check out my review HERE.

 

Check out this wild cover by Dawne Dominique, and tell me you can resist.

 

Amazon  /  Goodreads

 

MY REVIEW

 

Dinosaur Lake IV by Kathryn Meyer Griffith is the finale for this awesome horror series and I was soooo curious to see how she would wrap it up. Needless to say, Dino IV is every bit as good as the first book and if you are a creature feature fan, like I am, this is a must have for your reading shelf.

 

Life had changed since the dinosaurs came…and never left. How can humans coexist with such dangerous creatures?

 

Seven years…and we are at ground zero.

 

I was only 5% in and felt like we had lost already, but…

 

It’s winter and the dinosaurs are at bay. I know they won’t stay that way.

 

Imagine, a world devoid of life, no birds chirping, no wolves howling, no deer snorting in the wilderness park…just silence.

 

We are back with some familiar characters, and seeing Kathryn is not afraid to kill them off, I wonder who will be left standing at the end.

 

Defense, everything is about defense. Living on the front lines, driving around in tanks, always armed, the threat of attack always there. It is war.

 

Man, oh man. Kathryn Meyer Griffith sure can write. I already knew it, but her writing is filled with so much action and suspense, danger and death, that it invokes feelings of sorrow, I have tears in my eyes, yet I am filled with rage. I am amazed, over and over again, at her ability to spin a tale that leaves me breathless. Her stories are filled with so much creativity and originality, I hate to reach the end.

 

The suspense and tension filled pages made me read until the wee hours of the morning, unable to stop until the last page was read.

 

I was super curious how Kathryn would wrap up the series and I think she did a fabulous job! I wonder, though…

Animated Animals. Pictures, Images and Photos  5 Stars

 

GOODREADS BLURB

 

For seven long years Chief Park Ranger Henry Shore has been dealing with and fighting anachronistic dinosaurs in his beloved Crater Lake National Park and in the surrounding town of Klamath Falls. It began with one lone leviathan, the one he tongue-in-cheek called Godzilla. Henry and his band of heroes defeated it but others followed: the flying varieties he named gargoyles, the mutant T-Rexes and roaming velociraptors that were so much smarter than their ancient ancestors. He, his rangers and the National Guard soldiers, fought all of them, but still the dinosaurs, cunningly destructive and blood-thirsty, kept coming. No one knew where they came from or what the future would now hold for a besieged humanity, they only knew the monsters were spreading like a voracious wildfire and had to be stopped before they ravaged the world. Eventually, he and his wife, Ann, their family and friends, retreated into a fortified ranger headquarters where they continued to battle the proliferating dinosaurs. Will Henry’s son-in-law, Doctor Justin Maltin, a brilliant paleontologist, find a way to exterminate the creatures and save them…save the world? And, more importantly, would he be able to do it in time? Dinosaur Lake IV Dinosaur Wars is the fourth and final book of the Dinosaur Lake series.

 

Read more and enter the giveaway here.

 

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Source: www.fundinmental.com/tag-team-event-for-dinosaur-lake-iv-by-kathryn-meyer-griffith-kathryng64
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