Few announcements first - going forward - any books not claimed or where original winners no longer want book - these books will be given away on twitter to the first person who responds to my tweet. If your name is highlighted below, then you have not confirmed the win (or email has been lost to cyberspace). I will try to come in and remove highlights as winners verify.
And if you didn't win - did you see all the new giveaways in the sidebar? Spread the word - I seem to be having a lot of the same people winning over and over again - which is good for them, but I would like some new blood!
Desire Me
#23 - cats99
#21 - Christine
#16 - Shirley
Men and Dogs (audiobook)
#25 - Beth
#26 - Benita
#13 - ChristyJan
The Bride Collector (audiobook)
#3 - Heather - did not get back to me so twitter winner is - (It has been tweeted - have yet to get a response. . )
#12 - chirth7
#5 - Toystory
What's Really Hood!
#2 - MarthaLawson (already won) so book was given away on Twitter to Lora
Evan Waller is a monster. He has built a fortune from his willingness to buy and sell anything. . . and anyone. In search of new opportunities, Waller has just begun a new business venture: one that could lead to millions of deaths all over the globe.
On Waller's trail is Shaw, the mysterious operative from The Whole Truth, who must prevent Waller from closing his latest deal. Shaw's one chance to bring him down will come in the most unlikely of places: a serene, bucolic village in Provence.
But Waller's depravity and ruthlessness go deeper than Shaw knows. And now, there is someone else pursuing Waller in Provence: Reggie Campion, an agent for a secret vigilante group headquartered in a musty old English estate -- and she has an agenda of her own.
Hunting the same man and unaware of each other's mission, Shaw and Reggie will be caught in a deadly duel of nerve and wits.
GIVEAWAY
I have three copies of this audiobook to giveaway -- courtesy of Hachette Books.
Simple summer rules -- just leave a comment with your email address.
Giveaway open to U.S./Canada - no PO boxes.
Giveaway ends July 14.
It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old...or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!
You never know when I might play a wild card on you!
***Special thanks to Julie Gwinn of B&H Publishing Group for sending me a review copy.***
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Robin Caroll has authored eight previous books including Bayou Justice and Melody of Murder. She gives back to the writing community as conference director for the American Christian Fiction Writers organization. A proud southerner through and through, Robin lives with her husband and three daughters in Little Rock, Arkansas.
List Price: $14.99 Paperback: 320 pages Publisher: B&H Academic (February 1, 2010) Language: English ISBN-10: 0805449809 ISBN-13: 978-0805449808
AND NOW...THE FIRST CHAPTER:
Tuesday, 3:30 p.m. FBI Field Office Knoxville, Tennessee
Jonathan’s throat closed as he stared at the building from the parking lot. He gripped the package tight in his arthritic hands. Could he do this? Turn over evidence that would implicate him?
His heart raced and he froze. Not the best time for his atrial fibrillation to make an appearance. Despite being on the heart transplant list for eight months, it looked like his progressed heart disease would do him in. The most important reason he couldn’t go to prison—he’d never get a heart and would die. While Carmen wanted him to confess his crimes, she wouldn’t want him to die. The memory of saying good-bye to his beloved mere hours ago scorched his soul.
Her eyes fluttered open. Those blue orbs, which had once sparkled even in the absence of light, now blinked flat and lifeless.
He swallowed hard.
“Jonathan,” her voice croaked, “it’s time.”
Tears burned the backs of his eyes, and he rested his hand over her parchmentlike skin. “No, Carmen. Please, let me get the medicine.”
Her eyelids drooped and she gasped. Air wheezed in her lungs. “Sweetheart, the fight’s . . . gone from me.” She let out a hiss, faint and eerie. “The cancer’s . . . won.”
Jonathan laid his lips against her cheek, her skin cold and clammy, as if in preparation for the morgue. How could she continue to refuse the medicine? Even though she didn’t approve of his means of acquisition, the drugs had kept her alive for five years. Five years he cherished every minute of. He’d do anything to keep her alive and the pain at bay—the intense pain that had become her constant companion these last two weeks. It killed him to witness her agony.
She licked her bottom lip, but no moisture soaked into the cracked flesh. “You’ve done . . . your best by me, Jonathan. I know . . . you meant . . . no harm to . . . anyone.” Her eyes lit as they once had. “Oh, how I’ve enjoyed loving you.”
His insides turned to oatmeal. Stubborn woman—she’d allow herself to die, all because she discovered how he’d gotten the money.
“Promise me . . . you’ll . . . tell the . . . truth. Admit what . . . you’ve done.” Her breath rattled. “What you’ve . . . all done.”
Pulling himself from the wretched memory, Jonathan breathed through the heat tightening his chest. He’d secure himself the best deal possible—immunity—or he wouldn’t decipher the papers. And without him no one could make sense of the accounting system he’d created more than five years ago. Officials hadn’t a clue.
With a deep breath he headed to the guardhouse in front of the fenced FBI building. His legs threatened to rebel, stiffening with every step. He forced himself to keep moving, one foot in front of the other.
At the guardhouse, a man behind bulletproof glass looked up. “May I help you?”
“I need to . . . see someone.”
“About what, sir?”
“I have some information regarding a crime.” He waved the file he held.
“One moment, sir, and someone will be with you.”
Jonathan stared at the cloudy sky. He could still turn back, get away scot-free. His heartbeat sped. The world blurred. No, he couldn’t lose consciousness now, nor could he go back on his promise. He owed it to Carmen. No matter what happened, he’d honor Carmen’s dying wish.
“Sir?” A young man in a suit stood beside the fenced entry, hand resting on the butt of his gun. “May I help you?”
Jonathan lifted the file. “I have some evidence regarding an ongoing crime ring.”
The agent motioned him toward a metal-detector arch. “Come through this way, sir.”
Jonathan’s steps wavered. He dragged his feet toward the archway.
A car door creaked. Jonathan glanced over his shoulder just as two men in full tactical gear stormed toward them. He had a split second to recognize one of the men’s eyes, just before gunfire erupted.
A vise gripped Jonathan’s heart, and he slumped to the dirty tile floor, the squeezing of his heart demanding his paralysis.
Too late. I’m sorry, Carmen.
Two Weeks Later—Wednesday, 3:45 p.m. Golden Gloves Boxing of Knoxville
Ooof!
Brannon Callahan’s head jerked backward. She swiped her headgear with her glove.
“You aren’t concentrating on your form. You’re just trying to whale on me.” Steve Burroughs, her supervisor and sparring partner, bounced on the balls of his feet.
“Then why am I the one getting hit?” She threw a right jab that missed his jaw.
He brushed her off with his glove. “Don’t try to street fight me. Box.”
She clamped down on her mouthpiece and threw an uppercut with her left fist. It made contact, sending vibrations up her arm.
He wobbled backward, then got his balance. “Nice shot.”
It felt good to hit something. Hard. Sparring with Steve was the best form of venting. The energy had to be spent somehow—why not get a workout at the same time? She ducked a right cross, then followed through with a left-right combination. Both shots made full contact.
Steve spit out his mouthpiece and leaned against the ropes. “I think that’s enough for today, girl. I’m an old man, remember?”
She couldn’t fight the grin. Although only in his late forties, the chief ranger looked two decades older. With gray hair, hawk nose, and skin like tanned leather, Steve had already lived a lifetime.
She removed her mouthpiece, gloves, and headgear before sitting on the canvas. “Old? You’re still kickin’ me in the ring.”
He tossed her a towel and sat beside her. “So you wanna tell me what’s got you all hot and bothered this afternoon?”
She shrugged.
“Come on, spit it out. I know something’s gnawing at you, just like you were picking a fight with me in the ring. What’s up?”
How could she explain? “I’m not exactly keen that the district feels there’s a need for another pilot in the park.” She tightened the scrunchie keeping her hair out of her face.
“That’s a compliment—having you on staff has been so successful they want to expand.”
“But I have to train him. Did you notice his arrogance?” She ripped at the tape bound around her knuckles. “He’s nothing more than a young upstart with an ego bigger than the helicopter.” While only thirty-six, she often felt older than Steve looked.
“You’re so good, you can come across a bit intimidating at first, girl.” Steve grabbed the ropes and pulled to standing, then offered her a hand. “Give him a chance.”
She let Steve tug her up. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Even if he had maturity, I still have to train him. With all the rescues we’ve been called out on of late . . . well, I really don’t have the time.” She exited the ring. “Like those kids yesterday.” She shook her head as she waited for Steve to join her on the gym floor. “Their stupidity almost cost them their lives.”
“They were young, Brannon.”
“Please. Any amateur with half a brain should know better than to try to climb Clingmans Dome in winter.” Didn’t people realize if something happened to them they’d leave behind devastated family and friends? Loved ones who would mourn them forever? She fought against the familiar pain every time she participated in a search and rescue. All because people hadn’t taken necessary precautions.
“They didn’t know any better.”
“It takes a special kind of stupid not to have researched your climb.” Most SARs could be avoided if people planned a little more. It ripped her apart that so many parents, grandparents, siblings . . . fiancées . . . survived to deal with such grief. She’d tasted the bitterness of grief—twice—and the aftertaste still lingered.
Steve paused outside the locker rooms and shifted his sparring gear to one hand. “I agree, but most people don’t see the dangers we do every day.” He tapped her shoulder. “Hit the showers, champ. You stink.”
She laughed as she headed into the ladies’ locker room. Maybe Steve was right and the new pilot just made a lousy first impression. Maybe he’d be easy to train.
Please, God, let it be so.
Friday, 2:15 p.m. US Marshals Office, Howard Baker Federal Courthouse Knoxville, Tennessee
“You want me to escort a heart?” Roark struggled to keep his voice calm. He tapped the butt of his Beretta, welcoming it back to its rightful place on his hip.
Senior US Marshal Gerald Demott glared. “Look, I know you think this is a slight, but it’s important. And for your first assignment back on the job . . .”
“IA cleared me of all wrongdoing. I’m seeing the shrink and everything.” He gritted his teeth and exhaled. “I’ve been released to return to active duty.”
“This is active. It’s a field assignment, and it’s important. Here’s the case information.” Demott passed him a folder, then glanced at his watch. “You’d better hurry or you’ll miss your flight.”
Roark grabbed the file and turned to go.
“Holland.”
He looked back at his boss. “Yeah?”
Demott held out Roark’s badge. “You might want to take this with you, too.”
Roark accepted the metal emblem, then clipped it to his belt before marching out of Demott’s office. A heart. His job was to escort a human heart from North Carolina to Knoxville. Any rookie could handle that. But no, they still didn’t trust him enough to handle a real assignment.
He’d done everything they asked—took a medical leave of absence while Internal Affairs went over every painful minute of his failed mission, saw the shrink they demanded he speak to every week since Mindy’s death, answered their relentless questions. The shrink reiterated he’d been forgiven for acting on his own.
Maybe one day he’d forgive himself. How many innocent lives would he have to save for his conscience to leave him be?
Roark slipped into the car, then headed to the airport. But to be assigned a heart transport? Not only was it wrong, it was downright insulting. After almost fifteen years as a marshal, he’d earned the benefit of the doubt from his supervisors. Especially Demott. His boss should know him better, know he’d only disregard orders if it was a matter of life and death.
But Mindy Pugsley died. They’d all died.
He pushed the nagging voice from his mind. Even Dr. Martin had advised him not to dwell on the past. On what had gone wrong. On disobeying a direct order.
If only Mindy didn’t haunt his dreams.
Roark touched the angry scar that ran along his right cheekbone to his chin. A constant reminder that he’d failed, that he’d made a mistake that took someone’s life. He’d have to live with the pain for the rest of his life.
He skidded the car into the airport’s short-term parking lot. After securing the car and gathering the case folder, Roark grabbed his coat. Snowflakes pelted downward, swirling on the bursts of wind and settling on the concrete. The purple hues of the setting sun streaked across the mountain peaks beyond the runways, making the January snow grab the last hope of light.
Yes, he’d handle this mundane assignment, then tell Demott he wanted back on real active duty. Making a difference would be the best thing for him. Would make him feel whole again.
Deliver Us From Evil by Robin Caroll Publisher/Publication Date: B&H Academic, February 2010
A beautiful yet tough woman working in a beautiful yet tough setting, Brannon Callahan is a search and rescue helicopter pilot for the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Strong faith and a decorated history of service have kept her one step ahead of on-the-job dangers, but there’s no precedent for what’s about to happen. After a blizzard takes down a small plane carrying U.S. Marshal Roark Holland (already haunted by a recent tragedy), Brannon must save him in more ways than one and safeguard the donor heart he’s transporting to a government witness on the edge of death. Otherwise the largest child trafficking ring in history—with shocking links from Thailand to Tennessee—will slip further away into darkness along the Appalachian Trail.
About the author: Born and raised in Louisiana, Robin Caroll is a Southerner through and through. Her passion has always been to tell stories to entertain others. Robin's mother, bless her heart, is a genealogist who instilled in Robin the deep love of family and pride of heritage--two aspects Robin weaves into each of her books.
Robin's books have finaled/placed/won in various prestigious writing contests: Book of the Year, 2008; Romantic Times Reviewer's Choice Award, 2008; Bookseller's Best Award, 2009; Cover Cafe Cover Contest, 2009; and Book of the Year, 2009.
When she isn't writing, Robin spends time with her husband of twenty years, her three beautiful daughters, and their four character-filled pets at home--in the South, where else? An avid reader herself, Robin loves hearing from and chatting with other readers. Although her favorite genre to read is mystery/suspense, of course, she'll read just about any good story. Except historicals! To learn more about this author of deep South mysteries of suspense to inspire your heart, visit Robin's website at www.robincaroll.com.
What are you waiting for? Waiting on Wednesdays is hosted by Jill at Breaking the Spine.
