Shopping for a Highlander’s Elopement Julia Kent (Shopping for a Highlander, #3) Publication date: June 10th 2025 Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance
I didn’t expect to fall for a Scottish footballer so annoyingly sunny you need shades to be around him.
I didn’t expect to say yes to his heart-felt, if loopy, proposal while he lay injured on the pitch, blathering on about banana pudding and sparkly unicorns.
What I definitelydidn’t expect?
For our engagement to explode into a paparazzi circus, our mothers to turn into wedding bulldozers, and for our wedding protector’s perfectly reasonable elopement plan to spiral into a road trip escape.
So here we are.
In Love You, Maine, a town that celebrates Valentine’s Day every single day. We’re here to get married. Quietly. No drama. In disguise.
Although good luck hiding a 6’4” ginger Scottish striker wearing a knee brace and a perpetual extrovert smile.
Instead of being subtle and blending in? Our quiet escape is vibrating heart-shaped beds, mirrors on the ceilings, secret identities, interfering mothers, and one suspiciously enthusiastic moose that humps dumpsters.
This was supposed to be a simple wedding. Just me and Hamish. No fuss.
But nothing about us has ever been simple with us.
Still, this is what love is, right? It’s chaos. It’s compromise. It’s crying in a wedding planner’s office, then kissing in a hot spring.
It’s choosing each other again and again, even when everything goes sideways.
No matter what comes next… this is our comeback story, in more ways than one.
And no – that’s not a euphemism. 🙂
Shopping for a Highlander’s Elopementis a romantic comedy that blends the worlds of four bestselling series by New York Times bestselling romantic comedy author Julia Kent:
– Shopping for a Billionaire
– Shopping for a Highlander
– Whatever It Takes
– Love You, Maine
If you love sports romance, surprise proposals, grand gestures, chaotic weddings, Scottish footballers, golden retriever/black cat energy, and characters who love too hard, mess up spectacularly, and always find their way back to each other with plenty of laugh-out-loud moments (and lovingly-used scrunchies) along the way, then this is your book.
I’m smarter than this. When everything felt off, I should have known that it was off for a reason.
“Jody,” I say softly, “I canna do this.”
“Of course you can. You just have the jitters. Amy’s a wonderful woman and–”
“I dinna mean the proposin’ part. That’s fine. I can do that. I mean doin’ it on the pitch.”
His turn to go green.
“You want to cancel the proposal?”
“Aye. Nae. No’ the proposin’. The doin’ it in public part. I love Amy wi’ all ma body and soul.” I frown. “She’d hate to hear me say it that way. Soul and body.” I wink at Jody. “But it’s really the other way around. Ma body knows more than ma mind.”
“I don’t need to hear every thought that pops into your head, Hamish.”
“I only tell ye the important ones.”
“Like not wanting the big spectacle we arranged for you?”
“I’m tellin’ ye now, aren’t I?”
“We have extra cameramen here for this. Your parents and siblings are in the crowd. Declan and Andrew McCormick are here. We doubled the security.”
“Is this about money? I can pay for all that.”
“It’s not–well, yes, some of it is about the money. But it’s more about publicity and planning. A lot of people put forth a huge effort to make today special for you and Amy.”
“And forty thousand of ma closest fans.”
He closes his eyes and sighs through his nose. “A better time to realize this would have been weeks ago. Not a huge US exhibition game.”
“Ma instincts told me then that this was right. Now ma gut says something else. It all feels off.”
“Your gut.”
I pat my flat stomach. “It’s gotten me this far in life. Good gut.”
He’s right. I know how much work all the coaches, teammates, stadium staff and administrators, sponsors–hell, even the car park attendants–have put into helping me today. I don’t have cold feet, and I love Amy to the moon and back, but something feels wrong.
As Amy says, hinky.
I can’t explain it. If I had words for it, I’d use them. It’s a feeling, and those don’t always line up nice and neat in words that make sense.
Author Bio:
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge. Since 2013, she has sold more than 2 million books, with 4 New York Times bestsellers and more than 21 appearances on the USA Today bestseller list. Her books have been translated into French, German, and Italian, with more titles releasing in the future.
From billionaires to BBWs to new adult rock stars, Julia finds a sensual, goofy joy in every contemporary romance she writes. Unlike Shannon from Shopping for a Billionaire, she did not meet her husband after dropping her phone in a men's room toilet (and he isn't a billionaire she met in a romantic comedy).
She lives in New England with her husband and three children where she is the only person in the household with the gene required to change empty toilet paper rolls.
She loves to hear from her readers by email at julia@jkentauthor.com, on Twitter @jkentauthor, on Facebook at @jkentauthor, and on Instagram @jkentauthor. Visit her at http://jkentauthor.com
Adding Love to Attraction Christine Miles (Smart is Seriously Sexy Series, #4) Publication date: May 19th 2025 Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance
A single-working mom can find the courage to take a second chance on true love…or can she?
Two years after leaving a toxic marriage, Gia Valentine is still putting her life back together. With never-ending love and support from her best friends and family, and the joys of motherhood, she’s on a path to healing and peace. Unfortunately, her controlling ex has other ideas, especially when it comes to their son. To further complicate matters, a blast from her past reappears—a boy-turned-man whom she had once considered the love of her life.
A determined man on an important quest can successfully change his stars…or can he?
Achieving la dolce vita. That’s Dominic Ferretti’s number-one goal upon leaving his domineering family in Italy and returning to Colorado after seventeen years. Armed with determination and a special checklist, he reconnects with the girl-turned-woman who long ago captured his heart. But the path to “the good life” comes with an unforeseen challenge known as her ex-husband.
Being given another chance is a dream come true for Gia and Dominic, both trying to move forward from disappointing pasts. Will the stars be on their side this second time around?
Courage + strength + healing will be the necessary variables to achieve happily ever after in Adding Love to Attraction, the fourth and final book in the Smart is Seriously Sexy Series.
The corner of Gia’s mouth lifted in a smile. “Speaking of Italian, you’re probably going to regret telling my daughter you’ll say anything she wants.”
Dominic slid his fingers into the front pockets of his jeans, debated whether or not to continue being honest, then decided he had nothing to lose. “If memory serves, you asked me a very similar question to Michela’s on our first date.” He had happily played along, too.
Having the undivided attention of a smart, confident, beautiful American girl did that to a young man from another country whose first language was not English.
Gianna’s face flushed.
He couldn’t help but smile.
“That wasn’t fair, Mr. Ferretti.”
He leaned forward. “But the truth. No?”
Dominic knew her memory had gone right to their first date, just like his. An unforgettable night of her introducing him to cheap, American pizza in a restaurant near the university, endless amounts of cola due to “free refills,” and enough spirited conversation that would have left most people breathless.
Author Bio:
Christine Miles is a full-time writer living in Albuquerque, New Mexico.
An avid reader and writer since elementary school, her passion for literature inspired her to pursue a BA in English and an MA in Creative Writing. She writes YA and Adult Contemporary Romances with sassy, independent heroines and swoony heroes who love them for their strength.
When not writing romances, she loves traveling, binge-watching shows on streaming apps, reading mysteries and thrillers, listening to music, and spending quality time with her family, friends, and dog.
You can find her on Facebook and Instagram. Sign up for her newsletter to get ARC’s and updates at www.christinemilesauthor.com.
The Lightslayer: The Vampire Jack Townson Jack Townson (Everdusk, #1) Publication date: June 3rd 2025 Genres: Adult, Fantasy, Paranormal, Romance
Prepare to be captivated by a dark fantasy epic that will consume your imagination.
Welcome to Draconia, a realm cloaked in shadows and intrigue, where ancient power struggles simmer beneath the surface. When the enigmatic Vampire Lord, Jack Townson, master of the Manor of Mystery, uncovers a sinister conspiracy threatening to ignite a supernatural war, he and his eclectic band of misfits-the Degenerates-must rise to the challenge. Together, they will navigate treacherous alliances, dangerous secrets, and a world filled with breathtaking magic and monsters.
Immerse yourself in a tale of supernatural action, dark romance, and fantasy adventure, where every page brims with danger, desire, and destiny. From spine-chilling battles to forbidden love, this novel takes you on a journey through a richly imagined universe where power comes at a price, and loyalty is tested at every turn.
Fans of spicy dark romance, vampire lore, and epic fantasy will be spellbound by Draconia’s intricate world-building, unforgettable characters, and pulse-pounding twists. If you’re a fan of Sarah J. Maas, Jay Kristoff, or Deborah Harkness, this is your next must-read.
Step into the shadows. Welcome to Draconia. Your adventure awaits. Mind your throat.
—
“A darkly Gothic romp through a dense and sinister world with the compelling and mysterious Jack Townson.” — Laurell K. Hamilton, New York Times Bestselling Author of Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter
“They want a fight,” Townson growls, his voice steady but burning with conviction, “so we’ll give them one— but not
because we crave revenge!” His face contorts with emotion, locking eyes with his people. “Not because we thirst for blood!”
He raises a talon high into the air, his black claws curling into a fist with a loud, menacing crack. “But because we are family, and we stand together against any foe!”
Tears well in the eyes of many in the crowd, stirred by a fierce mix of fear and inspiration.
“BECAUSE WE ARE ALL DEGENERATES!” His voice erupts, a flash of fury in his eyes, as a supernatural wind howls from his aura. “WANTED BY NONE—” he roars, his words shaking the room, “AT HOME WITH EACH OTHER!”
Author Bio:
A 2023 Witchy Award nominee, Jack Townson, a multi-talented artist, is the heart and soul of the thriving FangFam community across various social media platforms, including TikTok, Instagram, and Twitch. With an ever-expanding following that now exceeds four hundred thousand devoted fans, he’s left an indelible mark on the digital landscape, garnering an impressive 4.2 million likes under the #Fangfam hashtag.
Beyond his online presence, Jack is a versatile artist, encompassing the roles of actor, singer, and writer. His most celebrated work to date is “The Vampire Jack Townson,” an original story that first captivated audiences on TikTok and has been endorsed by New York Times bestselling author and 5-time Bram Stoker Award winner, Jonathan Maberry. This immersive narrative plunges into the hidden world of a supernatural being and the profound journey towards rediscovering one's humanity.
Jack extends an invitation to his followers, beckoning them to peer into the psyche of an undead bohemian—an artist and a creature of the night, eternally ensnared in a world of nightmares. It’s a life devoid of sunlight’s warmth and the enduring embrace of true love, offering a unique glimpse into the enigmatic existence he portrays through his creative endeavors.
I want to welcome Joanne K. Easley to Books R Us. The Author has provided an interview just for my readers. Thanks for stopping by and don't forget to enter the contest below.
Book Details:
Book Title: HIGHER LOVE by Joanne Kukanza Easley Category: Adult Fiction (18+), 360 pages Genre: Women's Literary Fiction Publisher: Red Boots Press Release date:May 2025 Content Rating: PG-13 + M:Adult themes of alcoholism, underage drinking, underage sex
Book Description:
In 1986 Austin, Texas, sixteen-year-old Stephanie steps into sixty-two-year-old Lauren’s life, her uncanny resemblance cracking open a buried past. Claiming to be the daughter of the child Lauren gave up for adoption forty-five years ago, Stephanie upends Lauren’s life—already complicated by her remarriage to Brett after thirty-three years apart. Stung by her adoptive grandmother’s deception, Stephanie stays, her past of tragedy and self-harm forging a fragile
bond with Lauren and Brett. When Stephanie’s trust fund evaporates, crushing her college dreams, Lauren sacrifices all to give her a future—only to face a bittersweet twist that echoes the past and changes everything. This heart-wrenching family drama delves into the enduring impact of secrets, the power of unconditional love, and the strength found in facing our pasts.
Joanne Kukanza Easley, a retired nurse, writes fiction about complex twentieth-century women from her Texas Hill Country home. Her debut, Sweet Jane, won multiple awards. She authored Just One Look and I’ll Be Seeing You, with Higher Love forthcoming on May 12, 2025.
What do you consider the most essential elements of great writing?
Great writing is a craft honed through practice and passion. While proper grammar and punctuation are non-negotiable foundations, the heart of a story lies in its ability to connect with readers. I believe fully realized characters—that readers can root for or relate to—are crucial, as is a gripping plot with high stakes that keep the main character’s journey compelling. Authentic dialogue that mirrors how people actually speak breathes life into the narrative, making the story feel real and immersive.
How important is a book cover in your view?
A cover is the book’s introduction to readers, and research shows people absolutely judge a book by its appearance. I’ve worked hard to create a signature look for my novels: each cover features an impressionistic portrait of the main character, a cohesive color palette, and a bold, consistent font for my name and title. This unified aesthetic not only catches the eye but also makes my books instantly recognizable, inviting readers into the heartfelt stories I tell.
You’ve written four novels—can you share more about them and their themes?
I set my novels in the twentieth century, in the era before cell phones, when human connections were deeper and more intentional. They center on resilient women who face and overcome profound challenges, tackling heavy themes like alcoholism, suicide, self-harm, miscarriage, divorce, and teenage pregnancy with honesty and hope.
My latest, Higher Love, set for release on May 12, 2025, is a sequel to I’ll Be Seeing You. It’s my first novel with dual perspectives: sixty-two-year-old Lauren and Stephanie, a teenager who is
the daughter of the child Lauren gave up for adoption. This poignant family drama explores the ripple effects of secrets, the healing power of unconditional love, and the courage to confront the past.
How do you go about developing your plots and characters?
My stories begin with the character, not the plot. I take my time—sometimes weeks or months—getting to know my protagonist, dreaming about her, and uncovering every detail: her appearance, quirks, relationships, and inner world. Only when she feels vivid and real do I craft her journey and the challenges she’ll face. I don’t map out the entire plot beforehand; instead, I let the character lead, allowing surprises to unfold as I write.
Has your upcoming novel, Higher Love, evolved significantly since its first draft?
Absolutely. The first draft was written in third person, but I realized it felt too distant from the raw emotions driving Lauren’s story. Since each of my novels has a unique structure, I reimagined Higher Love with alternating first-person chapters from Lauren and Stephanie’s perspectives. This shift amplified the emotional intensity of the family drama, letting readers feel the weight of their secrets and the depth of their connection. The change was a challenge but made the story far more intimate and powerful.
Thank you for this chance to share my writing journey and the stories that mean so much to me. For those eager to explore my novels further, you can find them at my bookstore: Book Store - Joanne Kukanza Easley
Meet the Author:
Joanne Kukanza Easley, a retired registered nurse who worked in the cold, stark environment of operating rooms and the highly charged setting of psychiatric facilities, now resides in the Texas Hill Country. There, she crafts fiction centered on complex women of the twentieth century. Her debut novel, Sweet Jane, garnered multiple accolades, including the adult fiction prize at the Texas Author Project, and was a finalist for prestigious honors like the Sarton Award and the Eric Hoffer
Award, among others. Her second book, Just One Look, was selected as a May 2022 Pulpwood Queen Book Club Pick. Her third novel, I’ll Be Seeing You, revisits characters from Sweet Jane. Her fourth novel, Higher Love, a continuation of her third, is slated for release in Spring 2025. Easley’s award-winning short stories and poetry have been featured in various anthologies.
Is the exhilaration of entrepreneurship tainted with exhaustion? Discover more for your business and yourself.
Do you feel like your professional and personal lives are out of sync? Maxed out trying to juggle work and family? Are you unsure where you belong or how to create a roadmap to get there? Global business consultant and passionate creative Jennifer
Musser has spent decades helping high-functioning corporations solve complex puzzles, reduce risk, and increase profit. And now she’s here to show you how to refresh your perspective and fuel the future you want.
Align Your Business with the Real You: Connect with Yourself, Create What Matters Most, and Define Your Success is a groundbreaking paradigm shift for anyone interested in running a company. Well aware of common concerns and struggles faced by every founder, Musser delves into finding your true goals with help from practical exercises, empathetic stories, and easy-to-apply insights. And as you use her ego-free blueprint, you’ll delight in a bounty of unique takeaways that let you stay grounded no matter the situation.
In Align Your Business with the Real You, you’ll discover:
- Strategies for staying honest with yourself that keep you on the right track
- Tips for writing your own definition of success, so your personal and professional life is fulfilling
- Ways to healthily engage with your emotions and feel good about your everyday
- How to remember that you're the boss and permit yourself to funnel time and money toward your ultimate objectives
- Tools that you can instantly put to use, ideas for renewing your commitment, and much, much more!
Align Your Business with the Real You is a fresh and candid guidebook for entrepreneurs. If you like relatable teachers, down-to-earth chats, and heartfelt advice, then you’ll adore Jennifer Musser’s straightforward approach.
Read Align Your Business with the Real You to start getting results right now!
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Excerpt
“Do you feel connected with yourself? Do you feel in sync with your business and your life?
Your ability to connect with yourself and others is an asset, and the most valuable connection you can make is with yourself. It is never too late to connect with yourself. In Chapter 1, you’ll learn how connecting with yourself allows you to find where you belong in life and business. In Chapter 2, you’ll discover how knowing where you belong positions you to connect with like-minded others and conquer the right opportunities. As worthwhile experiences flow, the clouds begin to part. You feel engaged and at peace.
Let’s connect.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
AUTHOR BIO:
JENNIFER MUSSER shines a light on the financial operations of businesses where it is needed most to raise profit, solidify processes, save time, optimize talent, reduce risk, and help business leaders achieve meaningful growth with results they can see—and feel.
Jennifer knows how to lead businesses. She holds over twenty years of experience in global consulting, corporate finance, and entrepreneurship. Jennifer is the founder of JLM & Associates Consulting, LLC, where she applies her big company expertise to steer high-achieving business leaders with financial and operational tools and support for growth with less stress.
With a Bachelor’s Degree in Business Administration (Finance) from Villanova University, Lean Six Sigma Green Belt certification, and multiple certifications in business strategy, Jennifer is committed to helping small businesses succeed.
She loves life (and coffee) with her family and two dogs, Penny and Rockie, in New Jersey.
The Boy Upon Death: Reaper’s Last Call J. Robert Adams Publication date: April 5th 2025 Genres: Dark Fantasy, Fantasy, Supernatural, Young Adult
My existence was as cold as my birth. I was born with both knowledge and will—an inevitability for my kind. Drawn to the final moments of mortal life, we came into being. Some of us became Reapers, tasked solely with ferrying souls to their afterlife. Others craved the power of souls, calling themselves gods of Death—Shinigami. They believed that devouring or absorbing souls granted them greater might, but found that power only deepened their coldness and emptiness. Those gods of Death became husks, bored of their own immortality yet too frightened to end themselves. But being a Reaper can yield the same chill. Though I know the souls would be lost without our guidance, my own existence seems bound to a perpetual winter, drawn to the final beat of each mortal life.
My existence is as cold as my birth. I was born with both knowledge and will—an inevitability for my kind. Drawn to the final moments of mortal life, we come into being. Some of us become Reapers, tasked solely with ferrying souls to their afterlife. Others crave the power of souls, calling themselves Gods of Death. They believe that devouring or absorbing souls grants them greater might, but such power only deepens their coldness and emptiness. The Veil—the great boundary between life and the afterlife—exists as the ultimate destination for souls. It does not judge or choose; it simply awaits those ready to cross. Souls unwilling to pass linger in the mortal world, their tether to the Veil slowly degrading. Once that connection is broken, they descend into madness, becoming fragmented and unstable, unable to find peace. For Reapers, our role is clear: guide the souls before they are lost. Yet even for us, there are choices. We are born as extensions of the Veil, tethered to it as both our origin and our end. At any time, a Reaper may choose to return to the Veil, to be reabsorbed into its vastness and find peace. But there is a second path—one far more dangerous and final. A Reaper may sever their tether to the Veil, abandoning their purpose and embracing free will. These fallen ones become what we call Gods of Death. Free from the Veil’s guidance, they face a choice: help lost souls or exploit them for power. Many succumb to the hunger, consuming souls to strengthen themselves. These beings often destroy themselves, transforming into husks—twisted, empty shells driven mad by their own excesses. I have not chosen to rejoin the Veil, though the option tempts me in moments of despair. And I have not severed my tether, though I sometimes wonder what lies beyond that severance. Instead, I remain a Reaper. But the cold emptiness of my existence grows heavier with each passing
year. I guide souls to the Veil, knowing that my own tether will never allow me rest. The souls need us, but who guides the Reapers? Who saves us from the weight of eternity? Perhaps the answer lies in the unknown. In the countless eons of existence, I have never questioned my role—until now. The faint stirrings of doubt creep into my thoughts, like cracks forming in the ice. The time will come when I must choose: to remain a servant of the Veil, to seek peace within it, or to become something greater—or perhaps something worse. This is the story of how I began to question eternity. Of how I—a guide to the lost—found myself on a path to becoming something entirely new.
Author Bio:
J. Robert Adams has been building worlds in his imagination for as long as he can remember. What began as a childhood escape quickly grew into a lifelong passion for storytelling. By middle school, he was already scribbling down tales of heroes, haunted places, and fantastical realms—stories that refused to stay quiet.
Today, Adams continues that journey with The Boy Upon Death, a dark fantasy exploring the tension between duty and identity, power and purpose. His work blends introspective character arcs with immersive worldbuilding, often walking the line between light and shadow.
He writes not only to entertain, but to ask the quiet questions—about who we are, what we fear, and what we choose to fight for. Whether you're here for the eerie mystery or the emotional depth, his stories aim to stay with you long after the final page.
Curran’s enemies thought he was dead.
They were wrong.
He thought his past was left on the Voula Beach Road.
He was wrong.
Now, that nightmare is drawing his enemies out.
The halls of power are being targeted—but by who?
Is the secret of the Voula Beach Road behind the chaos?
Curran knows the answer.
It’s all in The Whisper Legacy . . .
Marlowe “Lowe” Curran was once a freelance intelligence operative swashbuckling around the world—until Greece—until the Voula Beach Road. There, he lost everything and nearly his life. Now, he’s a luckless, aging PI living on guilt and nightmares—barely paying his rent if not for Tommy Astor, a well-connected Washington powerbroker. Curran becomes a suspect in the murder of a philandering husband. He has an alibi—but that will get him arrested. Is committing crimes trying to resolve other crimes still a crime? For Curran it is, especially after he’s a suspect in two murders. Chasing the real killer, Curran is haunted by his demons from the Voula Beach Road, and something called Whisper. On his trail is an angry, vengeful US Deputy Marshal, gun-happy assassins, and a shadowy figure thwarting Curran’s every success. For each step forward, there’s another threat, another roadblock, another piece of evidence stacking up against him. Whisper is at the center of his nightmares—whatever Whisper is. Is Whisper why Charlie Cantrell had to die? Why bodies are dropping across Washington? Why the President’s short list for running mates is getting shorter? Faced with old foes and aided by his last surviving Voula Beach friend, Curran must stay ahead of the assassins, rescue a kidnapped little girl, and find the deadly secrets hidden within The Whisper Legacy.
THE WHISPER LEGACY Trailer:
Book Details:
Genre: Political Thriller, Action Thriller, Detective Mystery Published by: Level Best Books Publication Date: March 25, 2025 ISBN: 978-1685129149 Series: A Pappa Legacy Novel, Book 1 Book Links:Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Bookshop | Goodreads | BookBub
GUEST POST:
Who Is Lowe Curran and Why Is He Trying to Be Me?
I have written almost a dozen novels. Of those nine have been published, two are on their way, and one was re-written into a sequel. In those stories, there is always a character or two (or four) stolen from my real-life adventures as an anti-terrorism consultant—past and present. Sure, sure, we all promise that “names, characters, and places are the work of fiction and aren’t anyone living or dead” blah, blah, blah. That’s true overall, except come on people, get real. Most of our main characters—the good and the bad—are part of us in some way. Well, except for Oliver Tucker who’s a dead detective in my paranormal mystery series. I’m not dead yet. But in my thrillers, the main characters are sort of a Frankenstein of people I’ve known along my travels. And, yes, the main characters carry a lot of me with them. Marlowe “Lowe” Curran, without a doubt, tries the most to be me—more than any protagonist I’ve ever written.
Sorry, it wasn’t planned that way.
Curran—that’s Ker-in, not Kuur-an—the narrator and main character in The Whisper Legacy, is a down-on-his luck private investigator and security consultant. He was once a hired gun for the US Government protecting big shots and bad guys overseas. Until the Voula Beach Road mission that ended his career, nearly his life, and wiped out almost all his friends and colleagues. It destroyed him for years. Now, he’s fighting back and trying to evade a murder wrap in order to find out who or what Whisper is. It won’t be easy. First, he’s coming to grips with loneliness and age. He creaks and groans too often. Can’t pass a bathroom without a pitstop. He’s slowing down and no longer the swashbuckler he once was. If he can overcome all that, he might live long enough to learn what Whisper has to do with his past and why it might end his future. Oh, and why the body count of Washington DC elite is rising.
Me, too.
Well, not the Washington body count, but everything else.
I, being of sound mind and aging body today, am a private investigator and anti-terrorism consultant. While I was never washed up in the old days, I certainly felt that way many, many times. After leaving my dream job as an OSI agent running its anti-terrorism program, I was lost. Depressed. A failure. I had to leave, mind you. Divorce took my children ten hours away and a life travelling the world and doing OSI’s bidding would have left me without them. That was not acceptable. I resigned. Boom. My life’s dream was crushed.
It took me a couple years to rebuild a career and finally feel like I was back in “the game.” Then, a few years later, the company where I was an executive, sold out and left me alone and on my own again. Boom. A failure. Alone. I was neither, but those feelings haunted me like Curran’s nightmares plagued him.
Finally, I found my feet again consulting with a Washington DC thinktank on anti-terrorism with Homeland Security. Yeehaw. Back on my feet. Off to the races. Except now, I was older. Slower. Out of shape and yep, had to keep an eye out for the men’s room. Okay, TMI. Sorry.
Even though I was supporting Homeland and doing important work, I still struggled with the loss of my prior adventures. Sure, sure, maybe those adventures were long ago and not as super-cool as I recalled. But they were mine and they made me who I am. Now, I wasn’t quite “that guy” any longer.
Why do I tell you all this poor-me? Because it somehow slipped into Lowe Curran’s character and became his resume. No, I never lost my team on Greece’s Voula Beach Road. But wait! My first brush with terrorism was on that very road back in the late 1980’s. That event gave me the realism to write Curran’s fictional ambush—the breeze of salty sea air, the smoke from roasting lamb, and the smell of gunfire and explosions. Ah, the good old days…
In The Whisper Legacy, Curran operates out of an old barn loft apartment helping his aged, yet still beautiful and alluring landlady stop her cheating husband. After OSI, I lived in a barn loft apartment. No, my landlady wasn’t a Janey-Lynn, but hey, a guy can dream. Right?
Poor Curran is trying to stay in shape and regain his glory days. Me, too. I used to run five miles a day and ten miles twice a week. I studied Martial Arts, weight lifted and stayed in great shape. Age stole all that. Oh, yeah, sure, probably a little laziness and excuses, too. Now, in my early sixties, I’m back to working out two hours a day to fight my body’s natural love of good food (which I cook, of course). I feel for Curran. He hates aging. Hates not being “that guy.”
Dammit, man, me, too!
Oh, and Curran is a man about dogs—he steals, er, rescues Bogart, a black lab, from a nasty POS. I have three rescues and two rescue cats. Just sayin’.
So, life imitates art? Or is art the canvas for life? For Lowe Curran, well, we’re stuck with each other. I love him. Not because he’s so much of me, but because he fights the good fight with laughs, good nature, and sheer will. I try to do that, too. Though, I think he pulls it off better than me most of the time.
The Whisper Legacy has far more about my world than just Lowe Curran. Give it a read. See if you can find me, my world, and my fears in there. Maybe there’s a few of yours in there, too.
Read an excerpt:
Chapter One
Marlowe “Lowe” Curran
Getting old is not for the meek. Especially when in your youth, you were an adventurer and risk taker—a man of mystery and worldliness. You know, stuff that made your heart rumba and your pulse sizzle. Having to perform menial, boring deeds in your later years is tough. Especially when you sit around with good bourbon and reminisce about the old days. You tend to drink too much and pine for those glory days and lost adventure. So much that it eats at you. Not that I’ve ever done that, mind you. Just saying, you know, it happens to other people.
For instance, if anyone had told me twenty years ago that one day I’d be standing outside an old, two-story brick Rambler in Leesburg, Virginia, at ten in the evening, wearing old, raggedy pajamas, an ill-fitting robe, and carrying a dog leash—absent the dog—I would have been offended. Such a scenario might have suggested I’d lost my faculties too early in life. Perhaps I’d gone crazy or became homeless. Of course, I’d never seen a homeless person wearing pajamas and a robe at ten in the evening, crazy or not. Still, you get my concern.
I’m Curran. That’s Ker-in, not Kuur-an. It’s Irish—not that it matters. But pronunciation is important.
Don’t get the wrong idea about me. I don’t normally dress up in old pjs and walk neighborhoods with a dog leash. It just seemed like the thing to do tonight. I’m also not that damn old, either. At present, I’m pushing my early-mid-fifties and have a full head of dark, reddish hair, and almost always in need of a shave. It’s not that I’m trying to be suave and cool. I’m sorta lazy about shaving. I’ve been told I look like the dashing Sean Bean. No, not Mr. Bean—Sean Bean. Anyway, that’s me and I’ll explain more later. For now, my pjs were falling down and the ratty robe I had on wasn’t fitting all too well, either.
My feet were sore from my ambling down a block of crumbling sidewalk in the middle of this beautiful August night. Of course, August in Virginia was hot, humid, and, well, hot. My ensemble was cooler than jeans and sneakers, but it did not include slippers. Barefoot was not accidental. It’s for effect.
See, I was going for that crazy old dude persona.
Most concerning to me was my partner. Or lack thereof. Actually, he was my long-time friend and co-conspirator in many such episodes of my life. He’s missing. Stevie Keene should have been here an hour ago and running countersurveillance. He should have been watching my back and ensuring I wasn’t walking into a gunfight or a pair of handcuffs.
He wasn’t.
Stevie hadn’t responded to my cell calls. He also wasn’t in the van parked across the street from our target like he should be. That was bad. Real bad. I was going in blind.
“Stevie? Where in the flying monkeys are you?” I whispered to his voicemail again. “You’re late. I can’t wait any longer. If you get here while I’m inside, stay put and watch my escape route. And brother, you better have a good story—like being abducted by aliens.”
I peeked at the old Rambler’s front windows and dangled the dog leash. I called out as loud as I could, “Rufus? Come on boy. I’ve got cookies.”
No, I had no dog named Rufus. I also had no cookies. Try to keep up.
The house windows were blacked out—odd even for this part of town. I knew someone was inside. First, a thin sliver of light escaped through a corner of the window. Second, the electric meter around the side was whirling away like a NASA satellite station. Third, and perhaps most important, I’d seen the short, pudgy, receding hairline kid with his embarrassing attempt at a beard slip inside an hour or so ago. He looked like he’d glued stray hair here and there on his cheeks. His eyes were inset, or maybe his fat cheeks hid them.
Billy Piper reminded me of that dumpy loser who tried to smuggle dinosaur eggs off the island in Jurassic Park. He got eaten in the first thirty minutes of the movie. Served him right—poor defenseless dinosaurs.
“Rufus? I’ve got cookies.” I banged loudly on the door and rattled the doorknob. “Don’t hide on me, Rufus. Don’t be a bad dog.”
If Piper was trying to be stealthy, he failed. I heard him approach the door inside before he peeled back the window covering and glared out.
“What are you doing, old dude? Get lost.”
As I’ve already said, I’m not that old. But, given I’d put on a shaggy gray wig and plastered fake beard crap on my face, I give it to him.
A dog barked then yelped as the face pushed closer into the window. “Shut up, mutt. What good are you? This old fart is almost in the house and you just noticed?”
Time to play the role.
“You got my Rufus? Give me my dog.” I banged on the door again. “Now, before I call the cops. Dog napper.”
“It’s my dog, old dude,” Piper yelled. “Get off my property or I’ll kick your old ugly butt.”
I held up the leash and took a step back, turned in a slow circle to appear dazed. Then, I began to cry. It took nearly a full minute before Piper opened the door and stepped cautiously outside.
“What the hell is wrong with you, old dude? My dog isn’t Rufus.”
I turned to him, reached up to wipe my tearless eyes, and let my bright red identification bracelet show below my pajama sleeve.
“Where am I? Who’s Rufus?” I turned in a circle again and let a few more whimpers out. “Who are you? What are you doing in my house?”
At first, Piper turned red-faced with anger. Then, when he saw my medical bracelet, he reached out and grabbed it. “Oh, you’re one of those Alzheimer’s people. Get the hell out of here. Understand? Go home. Shoo.”
Home, indeed. “This is my home. What are you doing here?”
Beside Piper, a brawny black lab trotted into the doorway and barked. Not a threatening bark. More like an obligatory “woof.” After two such woofs, he trotted up to me and sat wagging.
“Useless dog. What are you doing inside?” He grabbed the dog by the collar and dragged him past me. He shook him several times, cursing. After berating him again with another smack to his hindquarters, he found a short chain affixed to a big walnut tree in the front yard and clipped it on his collar. “Flippin’ mutt. You’re supposed to warn me before they get to the door.”
“Don’t hurt my Rufus,” I yelled.
The chain was twisted and wrapped around the tree. The lab only had about two feet of room to move. There was no water bowl and no signs of one anywhere. The wear marks on the grass suggested the dog spent too much time chained to that tree.
What an asshole.
“What are you doing to my Rufus?” I growled. “Where’s his food and water?”
“Screw the dog. Maybe now he’ll bark when he’s supposed to.” Piper shoved me sideways and reentered the house. “Get the hell out of here or I’ll call the cops.”
“Call? I didn’t call you.”
“Jesus, I don’t have time for this.” He squared off on me in the doorway. “Get lost, old dude.”
“What about my Rufus?” I shoved Piper back a step. That surprised him. I guess old men with Alzheimer’s should be weak and defenseless. “Get out of my house.”
Piper reared back to strike me and held his fist in a threat. “I’m gonna put you straight.” His smartwatch buzzed wildly and flashed like Dick Tracey was calling. If you don’t get the shout out to Dick, forget it. You’re way too young to understand. “Go dammit.”
“Not until I get my Rufus.”
His watch signaled him again.
“Ah, shit. No. No. No.” Piper shoved me sideways and I feigned a fall just inside the doorway. He kicked at me and barely connected as I parried with my arm. “Get outta here, old dude. Wander or doddle your way back where you came. I got my own problems.” He shoved me out the doorway, swung the door to shut it, and ran down the hallway.
I, not being a confused old geezer, lodged my foot in the door before it closed. With no more than a sore big toe when it hit, I kept the door ajar.
I followed his footfalls to the back of the house. I might be committing a few felonies soon, so I slipped on leather driving gloves to eliminate the chance of any fingerprints. After all, my felony count had just started and the night was young.
I know cool TV stuff like that.
At the end of the hall, I descended the stairs into a dark basement. There, a small room lay ahead, lighted by a single overhead light that bathed the room in a hazy illumination. There were only a few old boxes stacked around and a bicycle hanging on a wall rack. Ahead was a heavy, steel door, still ajar. A carnival of flickering lights escaped through the opening. Beyond, I heard Piper cursing and babbling in a panicked voice.
I eased inside and found a larger section of the basement. The space was lined with soundproof tiles and heavy industrial carpeting. There was a refrigerator and small stove on one side of the room, and cabinets of computers and electronics on the other. Between them was a command console and two gamer’s chairs facing a wall of computer monitors and large video screens. The walls not blocked by computer gadgets were covered with movie and book posters of every major spy thriller I’d ever heard of. One was a poster of a pale-faced Alec Guinness wearing oversized, dark-framed glasses—an aged, probably original collector’s poster of John Le Carre’s Smiley’s People.
Holy crap, Billy Piper was a wannabe spy.
“Shit, they caught me.” Piper stood in front of a shelf of electronics and spun around when I stepped inside. “What the hell, old dude?”
We had to talk about that old dude thing. I was getting there, but really, how rude?
“I told you what would happen if you didn’t leave.” Piper balled his fist and came toward me. “It’s gonna cost you. You should’ve left to find Rufus.”
“Who the hell is Rufus?” I asked.
I don’t know if it was my sudden calm, steady voice, or the silenced .22 pistol in my hand—aimed at him—that startled him the most. Either way, I had his attention.
“What the … who are you, old dude?” He stared at the pistol. “You don’t have Alzheimer’s.”
“Nope.”
“Who then?” He took a step back as his face tightened and filled with so much anger his cheeks were ablaze. “Ah, shit. Are you with them?”
“Them?” I waived my pistol back and forth to keep his attention. “Explain.”
“Screw you.” He spun around as his computers began wailing some kind of alarm. “Come on man, I got bigger problems than anything you can bring. If you don’t get outta here, those problems are going to be yours, too. Go find Rufus or whatever. Get out.”
I aimed the pistol at his head. “I think not, Billy.”
He spun back around at me. “You know me? Did they send you?”
“Oh, I know you.” Boy was he slow. “I’m here about money and information. I have no idea who ‘they” are. Although, ‘they’ might be like my clients. You hacked them and now they want their files and money returned. Right, Chip Magnet?”
“Oh, man. You are them.” His face blanched and the tough guy drained away. “Dude, I got money. I can pay. I pay you and you say I wasn’t home. Deal?”
Desperation replaced his bravado he’d taunted me with moments ago. “Chip Magnet, are you for real? What a totally bullshit handle, Piper.”
He shrugged. “It means—”
“I know what it means, idiot. Look, Billy, you hacked the wrong people—my people. I’m here to fix things. And in the future—if you have one—you might take care who you hack. Some folks out there don’t go to the police. They don’t hire lawyers or call the credit bureau.”
“Huh?” His eyes locked on my pistol as it raised to eye level. “What?”
“They send me.”
Chapter Two
U.C.
The man in the expensive Saville Row suit and Gucci loafers sipped his vodka martini and settled back on his king bed, pillows plumped and perfectly positioned by the staff. He glanced around his Waldorf Astoria suite feeling very pleased with himself. Never had his accommodation been as nice. Never had his payment been as nice—nor as often—as with this assignment. He wondered how long it would be before it would all end.
The man wore a collarless shirt that fit snug over ripped muscles. His head was mostly bald but for close-cut, thinning dark hair around the sides and back. His face was narrow and strong, accentuated by a salt and pepper beard that was three days of growth meticulously trimmed for effect—a dangerous, stay-clear effect. In the years he’d operated at the higher end of his profession, he found his persona and image as daunting to his prey as his skills. The million-dollar benefactors he serviced expected a little refinement and image, not to be confused with Hollywood assassins cloaked in black leather feigning brooding personalities. His clients demanded thoughtfulness, the ability to move in any surroundings—Washington dinner clubs or Bangkok brothels.
U.C. had mastered the chameleon persona years before.
The satellite phone on his nightstand vibrated. He scooped it up. The Controller didn’t like to wait. Not for the million-dollar price tag for U.C.’s services. Glancing at the screen, the call wasn’t from the Controller, but one of the minions sitting in a lesser hotel room somewhere in the bowels of Alexandria, Virginia.
“Yes?”
The voice was frantic. “U.C., I found him. There’s a problem.”
“Problem?” U.C.—bestowed upon him many years prior because of his preference to operate against his targets Up Close—sipped his drink. “If you found the target trying to hack our servers, just send me the address and—”
“He got through.”
“What?” U.C. bolted upright and spilled his drink. “You told me the security was impenetrable.”
Silence.
“Well?”
“Someone left some nodes insecure, maybe. I don’t know.”
U.C.’s mind raced. “An inside job?”
“Maybe.”
He closed his eyes. “Sweet Jesus.”
“U.C.?” The caller hesitated. “The hacker got all the way into the E-Suite.”
He was on his feet now, moving around the room gathering his things—the most important ones—his shoulder bag, jacket, and silenced pistol.
“Did you hear me?”
U.C. grunted, “Text me the address. Get four men there fast. I’ll meet you there.”
Hesitation, then, “Orders?”
“Don’t be stupid.”
U.C. tapped off the call and instantly activated the satellite text program. As he did, the Sat phone concurrently launched an encryption program that NSA would take years to break—another luxury of working for the Controller.
He typed out a simple message—Urgent. Hack successful. Compromised. I’ll contain.
Miles away, across the Potomac, the Sat Text arrived at the Controller’s private office. It took only moments to return a response.
U.C. rarely initiated such calls. Rarely one marked with “Urgent.”
The Controller—Define compromise.
U.C.—Total.
The Controller—Confidence?
U.C. finished his text and exited his suite—Whisper is compromised.
***
Excerpt from The Whisper Legacy by Tj O'Connor. Copyright 2025 by Tj O'Connor. Reproduced with permission from Tj O'Connor. All rights reserved.
Author Bio:
Tj O’Connor is an award-winning author of mysteries and thrillers. He’s an international security consultant specializing in anti-terrorism, investigations, and threat analysis—life experiences that drive his novels. With his former life as a government agent and years as a consultant, he has lived and worked around the world in places like Greece, Turkey, Italy, Germany, the United Kingdom, and throughout the Americas—among others. In his spare time, he’s a Harley Davidson pilot, a man-about-dogs (and now cats), and a lover of adventure, cooking, and good spirits (both kinds). He was raised in New York’s Hudson Valley and lives with his wife, Labs, and Maine Coon companions in Virginia where they raised five children who supply a growing tribe of grands.
I didn’t expect to fall for a Scottish footballer so annoyingly sunny you need shades to be around him.
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Julia Kent writes romantic comedy with an edge. Since 2013, she has sold more than 2 million books, with 4 New York Times bestsellers and more than 21 appearances on the USA Today bestseller list. Her books have been translated into French, German, and Italian, with more titles releasing in the future.
Welcome to Draconia, a realm cloaked in shadows and intrigue, where ancient power struggles simmer beneath the surface. When the enigmatic Vampire Lord, Jack Townson, master of the Manor of Mystery, uncovers a sinister conspiracy threatening to ignite a supernatural war, he and his eclectic band of misfits-the Degenerates-must rise to the challenge. Together, they will navigate treacherous alliances, dangerous secrets, and a world filled with breathtaking magic and monsters.
.jpg)
My existence was as cold as my birth. I was born with both knowledge and will—an inevitability for my kind. Drawn to the final moments of mortal life, we came into being. Some of us became Reapers, tasked solely with ferrying souls to their afterlife. Others craved the power of souls, calling themselves gods of Death—Shinigami. They believed that devouring or absorbing souls granted them greater might, but found that power only deepened their coldness and emptiness. Those gods of Death became husks, bored of their own immortality yet too frightened to end themselves. But being a Reaper can yield the same chill. Though I know the souls would be lost without our guidance, my own existence seems bound to a perpetual winter, drawn to the final beat of each mortal life.
