Fiction

In this new collection, David Dean—Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine’s longtime favorite author—brings you the Edgar Award nominated “Tomorrow’s Dead,” along with ten other short stories of crime and suspense. This master of short fiction has entertained readers for decades with his suspenseful stories, and for the first time ever you can read them back-to-back. Tomorrow’s Dead and Other Stories of Crime and Suspense takes the reader through mysterious misdeeds that will bring you to the edge of your seat… or have you hiding under your covers. In these arresting short stories, David Dean’s characters find themselves in sticky, often illegal, situations that shift at every turn. From the chief of police being blamed for a series of murders to long lost siblings on quests for revenge, these stories will leave you wanting more. Luckily, the next Collection is on its way soon!

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Patrick Shattuck

Dawn's Web $15.50

Dawn is a rebellious girl skilled in secrecy. Zander is a sullen boy armed with a fiery temper. Dr. Duncan Bright treats patients who invent lovers, struggle with addiction, and constantly challenge and berate him. His dedication to guiding his clients through the turmoil of life is tested when he meets teenagers Dawn and Zander—their escalating violence and erratic behavior become his greatest challenge. When a body is found in Central Park, Dawn and Zander are the prime suspects, and the police come to the psychologist for his insight. As he is drawn deeper into the investigation, his professional and personal lives become jeopardized. Dawn’s Web, a gritty, page-turning psychological thriller, explores the twisted minds of Dr. Bright’s patients, the motives of murderers, and his own flawed intentions.

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D.J. Palladino

Nothing That Is Ours $17.95

On a gray winter day in 1958, the body of a man washes up on Santa Barbara’s breakwater. He has wounds much like those of the crucified Christ. Trevor Westin, a young writer with deep family connections to the city, sees murder where the local press and powers that be see only a simple case of drowning. Trevor goes on a dangerous search for answers. Along the way he will cross paths with beatniks, beach bums, Aldous Huxley, Dennis Hopper, and agents from the CIA. He will also be introduced to the brave new world of hallucinogenic drugs. Meanwhile, off the coast of Santa Barbara, at the bottom of the sea . . .

Dan Harary

After They Came (Ebook) $5.99

Looking for the Paperback? CLICK HERE Looking for the Audiobook? CLICK HERE Jonathan Tuckerman, a Los Angeles man down on his luck and truly alone in life, decides to mark his 70th birthday by drowning himself in the Pacific Ocean. Instead, he inadvertently becomes the world’s “Wonder Man” after a pair of extra-terrestrial visitors from the Pleiades interdimensional star system appear in a giant spacecraft, pluck him from the sea, and present him to the media and the world as their sole “Ambassador to Mankind.”Jonathan’s life is dramatically transformed for the better as he works closely with the magnificent Tall White aliens Jorthon and Kalyssa to solve man’s long-insurmountable problems.Jorthon and Kalyssa aren’t the only aliens visiting Earth, however. The Draconians, a long-hidden race of ancient—and sinister—extra-terrestrials, make their presence on Earth known, livid that Jonathan and the Tall Whites have received global accolades for their remarkable achievements. The Draconians and their heinous leader blame the Tall Whites—and God himself—for their miserable existence, as they decide to seek recognition, retribution, and revenge.After They Came takes the reader—indeed, the entire human race—on a wild ride through real UFO research and lore, global politics, climate change, religion, true love, a family reunion, and “the meaning of life itself,” all set against the backdrop of unprecedented extra-terrestrial intervention. The novel presents unlimited possibilities for achieving global peace and prosperity—dreams heretofore unattainable by man.After They Came is a story of loneliness reversed, despair erased, and one man’s wholly remarkable destiny fulfilled.

Kimberly Croft

Secrets on the Potomac $15.50

Sebastian Reed is a young, handsome congressman, and heir to a political dynasty. Daria Stewart is the girl who got away. They have tried to forge their own paths and forget their time together on the campaign trail when Daria was the dedicated intern and Sebastian the dashing candidate. Daria escaped to Paris, Sebastian to Washington D.C. Years later, Sebastian has his sights set on the oval office when Daria walks into a high-society party on the arm of Sebastian’s troublesome younger brother, Garrison. In Secrets of the Potomac, author Kimberly Croft spins the tale of Daria and Sebastian as they navigate the dangerous political landscape of Washington D.C. and the path to power. How far will Sebastian go to keep Daria safe from his growing list of enemies?

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Kimberly Croft

Dear Prudence $15.50

As the campaign manager for Senator Alex Conrad, Prudence Romain must go to any lengths to hide her past. As Senator Conrad prepares for a presidential run, Prudence can’t fight her feelings for him any longer. Despite the difference in their ages, she is shocked when he confesses his love for her as well. But their simple love affair is made infinitely more complex—and dangerous—when their relationship is made public. The press, the opposing candidate, and even Senator Conrad’s ex want to destroy their relationship. Their love can withstand the pressure, but can his bid for the presidency survive the truth?

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Right There in Black and White (Paperback)

Jim Christ

Right There in Black and White (Paperback) $19.99

A serene evening walk takes an ominous turn for Kendi Liston when he stumbles upon a lifeless woman in the shadows of his apartment building. Faced with a haunting choice—to help or to protect himself from inevitable suspicion—Kendi makes the fateful decision to report the discovery. But in a world where his identity often precedes him, this single act of integrity may cost him everything. As the investigation unfolds, Kendi becomes entangled in a web of prejudices, assumptions, and danger. Officers Regan and Crowe, both battling their own demons, approach the case with opposing philosophies that escalate tension and risk. Witness accounts and evidence intertwine in ways that challenge perceptions of guilt and innocence, leaving no character untouched by the consequences. This gripping narrative explores the weight of truth, the complexity of identity, and the silent battles fought in every interaction. With masterful pacing and profound emotional depth, Right There in Black and White immerses readers in a world where every choice matters and nothing is as simple as it seems.

The Ultimate Survival Horror Collection: The Hungry Series (Books 1-6)

Steven W. Booth

The Ultimate Survival Horror Collection: The Hungry Series (Books 1-6) $124.94

The Ultimate Survival Horror Collection: The Hungry Series (Books 1-6) Looking for laughs with your scares? Dive into The Hungry, a hilariously twisted take on the zombie apocalypse. This exclusive bundle includes all six books from the series that has readers screaming—and laughing—out loud: The Hungry: Zombie Apocalypse The Hungry 2: The Wrath of God The Hungry 3: At the End of the World The Hungry 4: Rise of the Triad The Hungry 5: All Hell Breaks Loose The Hungry 6: The Rule of Three What Makes This Bundle a Must-Have: Join Sheriff Penny Miller, a fierce redhead with a knack for sharp one-liners and zombie headshots, as she faces down apocalyptic absurdities. Balancing gut-wrenching suspense with gut-busting humor, this series proves that even in the face of doom, there’s always time for a sarcastic quip. 🔗 Bundle Perks: Six beautifully crafted physical books for just $89.99—a steal for this much undead hilarity! Perfect for fans of fast-paced, humor-infused horror. Hours of entertainment as you laugh, cringe, and cheer for your favorite zombie-slaying team. 📚 Grab Your Set Now for Only $89.99! If you’re ready for a wild ride packed with thrills, chills, and laugh-out-loud moments, this bundle is your perfect match. Whether you’re a die-hard zombie fan or just love your horror with a side of humor, The Hungry series will have you coming back for more.

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The Ultimate Zombie Apocalypse Experience! The Hungry 1-3

Steven W. Booth

The Ultimate Zombie Apocalypse Experience! The Hungry 1-3 $44.97 $59.97

Dive Into the Ultimate Zombie Apocalypse Experience! Three Paperbacks for One Low Price! Get ready to sink your teeth into a heart-pounding trilogy that redefines survival horror. This exclusive bundle includes three adrenaline-fueled novels from The Hungry series: The Hungry: Zombie Apocalypse The Hungry 2: The Wrath of God The Hungry 3: At the End of the World Follow Sheriff Penny Miller as she battles ravenous hordes of the undead, confronts shady government secrets, and struggles to protect the ones she loves in a world gone mad. 🔗 Why You'll Love This Bundle: Packed with pulse-racing action, unexpected twists, and unforgettable characters. Perfect for fans of intense survival stories and zombie thrillers. Stunning physical editions with striking cover designs. 📚 Get All 3 for One Killer Price! Whether you're a seasoned horror aficionado or new to the apocalypse, this bundle promises relentless excitement from the first page to the last. Stock up your bookshelf and prepare for sleepless nights! Looking for all six Sheriff Penny Miller Zombie Books? Click Here!

Dr. Ashley Baker

The Furious Others (Ebook) $9.99

In typical serial killer novels, the victims are a footnote. In this book, they’re the whole story. Betty. Tina. Sarah. Leslie. Chrissy. Sheena. Sherry. Lena. Debbie. Ashley. The ten victims in The Furious Others lived ordinary lives until serial killer Jason LeDown entered stage left, knife in hand, with a belly full of bad intentions. That’s where fear is found, in the space between a typical Friday and a man intent on murder. The fictional characters in The Furious Others depict real people: mothers, lovers, hip-hop aficionados, and green thumbs, united by the tragedy of lost lives. Author and clinical psychologist Dr. Ashley Baker PSYD envisions a fictional world where the murderer is not the main character in the serial killer trope. Instead of exploring Jason Le Down’s methods of madness, Dr. Baker chooses to honor the victims rather than romanticize monsters. As a condition of Jason’s LeDown’s purgatory, those he harmed reflect on their humanity, proving they’re more than crime scene photos or roadside crosses. In this multiple point of view novel, the deceased blaze a fast-paced trail, recounting their last moments, with tentacles of grief stretching across timelines. In The Furious Others, Dr. Baker, drawing from her own experience of devastating loss, paints a vivid picture of collective trauma and sorrow. The quest for closure drives the story to its gripping conclusion, making The Furious Others a powerful testament to the strength of the human spirit.

Richard Wickliffe

Don't Be Home For Christmas $17.95

Kyle Colbert just wants to go home for Christmas. He savors his train commutes from Manhattan to his idyllic hometown. But as he arrives on Christmas Eve, his family tries to murder him. His neighbors and entire community suddenly want him dead. He can’t run to the authorities, because the FBI is also in a deadly pursuit. With a $1,000,000 reward for his “Death or Whereabouts," Kyle is running out of time to discover what's really going on to stop an even greater tragedy.

<div class="element element-bodymatter element-container-single element-type-chapter element-with-heading" id="chapter-1"> <div class="heading heading-container-single heading-size-full heading-format-full heading-alignment-flexible heading-without-image"> <div class="heading-contents"> <div class="title-subtitle-block title-block-title-is-element-number"> <div class="element-number-block"> </div> <div class="title-block"> <h1 class="element-title case-mixed">Chapter One</h1> </div> </div> </div> </div> <div class="text" id="chapter-1-text"> <div class="inline-image inline-image-kind-photograph inline-image-size-small inline-image-flow-center inline-image-flow-within-text inline-image-aspect-tall block-height-not-mult-of-line-height inline-image-without-caption inline-image-begins-section inline-image-before-element-end"> <div class="inline-image-container"> <img alt="Creepy Cattle Skull" width="210" src="https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0301/3604/1571/files/skull-3163496.png?v=1728592403" height="280"> </div> </div> THE SIGN SAID WELCOME to Sunnyvale. It was a large sign, the size of a family car, and it was showing its age. The passing vehicles had kicked up the dust from the road, which had reacted with the rain and trickled down its façade in little rivers, leaving a trail of sediment behind. Some of the kids from the village had taken potshots at it with their BB guns, leaving angry welts in the surface of the metal. It was plastered with bird shit and the facility’s cartoon mascots—all animals, of course—looked like they were suffocating beneath the weight of it all. Sunnyvale’s tagline was right there beneath it: The Home of Good Food. Tom Copeland stared at the sign as it grew larger in the windscreen, floated softly past on the passenger side, then disappeared as the path rolled away beneath them. Calling it a road would have been like comparing a burger van to a McDonald’s. At best, it was a narrow dirt track that had been worn into the grass by the passage of vehicles and time. Copeland was glad he was in the back of a Land Rover and not on foot or bouncing up and down in his Vauxhall Corsa. It had been an unusual day so far. This was his first time visiting the facility, and he was following the strict instructions that John MacDonald had given him when he was offered the job. He’d met the three men he was sharing the Land Rover with in the car park of the Red Lion. “You’ll need to hitch a lift until you’re given security clearance,” MacDonald had explained. “If you don’t have a key card, you can’t get in.” The Land Rover hit a bump in the road and the driver, a dour-faced Scot with a bristly ginger beard, smacked the steering wheel with the palm of his hand and shouted, “Come on, ya bastard.” Copeland turned his face to the window again. He was sitting in the back behind the passenger seat because it was the only seat left when they’d picked him up. There had been no time for introductions. That had come later, once the Land Rover had started to worm its way through the back roads and, eventually, the countryside. Sunnyvale was tucked away in a natural dip in the Chiltern Hills, a good ten miles away from the nearest major town or village. There had been plenty of time for them to talk during the commute. The driver had introduced himself as Big Jim Benton, and Copeland had made an immediate mental note not to mess with the guy. Big Jim had a mess of scars poking out from beneath his fiery beard, deep, sunken eyes, and a fat face. He was built like a brick shithouse thanks to twelve years of professional hooliganism and ten years before that of amateur street fights in downtown Leith. His right arm was a mesh of tattoos, and they caught and reflected the sunlight when he hung it out the window. His hair had started to recede and he had a small mole on the left side of his face. He was a little overweight, but he was far from obese. The excess was from the cheese, the beer, and the kebab meat, and it clung mostly to his face, his waist, and his stomach. It was the kind of bulk that belonged to professional wrestlers, a slowly cultivated weight that came in handy when he needed to use it. He could turn it into a weapon when he got in tussles with unexpected vandals or trespassers. It’s what his job was all about. The passenger seat was taken up by Big Jim’s second-in-command, an Irishman called Darragh O’Rourke. He wasn’t as muscular as Big Jim, but he had the look of a wiry street dog with a bruised muzzle. He wore his greasy brown hair down to his shoulders, where it grazed his skin and brought blackheads and spots out in angry welts. He had a disconcerting habit of reaching beneath his Kevlar jacket and scratching at his skin, then bringing his hands back out and investigating his fingernails for blood and pus. He also bit the damn things, which Copeland thought was nothing short of cannibalism. “Darragh’s from Belfast, ye ken,” Jim said. “That’s right,” the Irishman confirmed. “I came over to Liverpool during the recession and ended up moving here for work.” “Ah worked with Darragh afore Sunnyvale,” Jim continued. “Eh’s a good lad, ye ken. Eh’s goat a dog. Ye’ll like tha, Mr. Vet Man.” “Yeah?” Copeland said, raising an eyebrow. He’d never much cared for dogs, but he was socially adjusted enough to know when he was expected to say something more. “What breed?” “She’s a little Jack Russell called Milly,” O’Rourke said. “She’s got a lot of energy. The missus says it’s good practise for when we have kids.” “Take mah advice,” Jim grunted. “Git yeself tha snip afore it’s too late. Ah cannae stand wee bairns. Ah’d rather stick ma dick in a blender thun huvtae raise some wee shite ah didnae want in tha first place.” “I’ll bear that in mind,” O’Rourke replied, but he was laughing. The Land Rover’s final passenger sat to Copeland’s right, slouching back against the leather seats. He couldn’t have been out of his teens. He was an Englishman from Bootle with a thick accent who looked as out of place in his security gear as a bum in a shirt and tie. He had short black hair with zigzags shaved into the back of it, as well as big lips, big ears, and a massive nose that looked as though it had been broken a dozen times. The kid’s face reminded Copeland of a cross between a cauliflower and a bowling ball. The young man nodded at him. “First day?” he asked. Copeland nodded, then flashed a glance at the man’s name badge. “Sure is, Chase,” he said. “The first day of the rest of my life.” “Yeah,” Chase replied. “Something like that. What are you doing here, anyway? You working the line?” “I’m a veterinarian.” “Jesus,” O’Rourke said. “What the shite are you doing at Sunnyvale?” “What do you think?” Copeland replied. That killed the conversation, at least until Big Jim hit a button on the radio. He’d matured into adulthood while grunge was on the rise and was still listening to Pearl Jam and Alice in Chains all these years later. Kurt Cobain was dead. Layne Staley was dead. Chris Cornell was dead. And in a lonely hotel room somewhere, Eddie Vedder was shitting himself at the prospect of being next. As they cruised towards the entrance to the complex, they were listening to L7, an all-female riot grrrl band. Benton was nodding along to the beat, the feminism wasted on a man with a Hibs tattoo and a history of casual domestic violence, but O’Rourke was lying back in his seat with his eyes and ears closed, and Chase looked like he’d tried to swallow a pickled onion without bothering to chew it. Tom Copeland looked at himself in the rear-view and took stock of what he saw there. Back in the day, when he’d been running his own practice instead of “working for the man” on a factory farm, he’d shaved every morning and gone to great lengths to make sure that he smelled of expensive cologne. But he’d lost all that when he’d been dumb enough to steal ketamine from storage. His partner had called him out on it and given him two options: either sign over his share in the company or be reported to the police. For Copeland, that was no choice at all. A shadow passed across his face as he stared at the mirror. It was an ordinary face with a large forehead and a receding hairline. He had short black hair that flicked up from his head because of the way he slept, and he had thin, weedy eyebrows that looked like he waxed them, although he didn’t. He also had big, flat ears that hung to the side of his head like two strips of bacon, but his face wasn’t fat and neither was his body. He kept himself in shape, but it didn’t come easy to him. And he’d let himself go since Linda had left him all alone in the big, empty house that he could no longer afford. When he thought about stuff, he started squinting, and he saw from the mirror that he was squinting then. He was a good guy. He knew he was. But he’d made some bad decisions, and sometimes he felt like an asshole. But he did his best, especially for the animals. His fellow humans chose to be evil and corrupt. The animals had no choice. Copeland had only stolen the drugs because a very unpleasant man had forced him to do it. He recognised the man by sight—he’d seen him in the practice’s waiting room—but he didn’t know his name. The name didn’t matter too much when he had his metaphorical knife to Copeland’s throat and his mouth full of threats against his family. The irony was that when he’d been caught in the act and kicked out of his own veterinary practice, Copeland had lost his family anyway. But at least no one had lost their life. Copeland looked away from the mirror. A stilted silence hung heavy on the air. He fiddled uncomfortably with his seatbelt and shifted position to try to get comfortable. “Jim,” O’Rourke said. “Be a top man and put something else on.” “Like what?” “How about some grime?” Chase said. “Fuck ya grime, ye wee gobshite,” Big Jim snapped. He flashed a glance at Copeland in the rear-view. “Chasey boy thinks eh’s a rapper, ye ken.” Copeland smiled. “Is that so?” “Yeah,” Chase replied. “Opened for Devilman a couple of months back.” “And how come you’re working at Sunnyvale?” “I’ve got no choice,” Chase said. “I need the money. Used to work as a labourer, and before that I was at a warehouse. Then I saw Sunnyvale was hiring and I thought I’d give it a shot. Besides, women love the uniform.” “Aye,” Jim conceded. “That’s true. But ah’d appreciate it if ye could keep yer trap shut fae a while. Ah cannae be dein wi yer chat today, ye ken? Ah’ve goat a hangover. If ah hear another peep, ah’m gonnae drop ye off and let ye walk tae work.” Chase opened his mouth to reply, then thought better of it. Copeland stepped in to fill the silence. “An Englishman, an Irishman, and a Scotsman,” he said. “What is this, some sort of joke?” Big Jim fixed him with another penetrating stare in the rear-view, but said nothing. A hundred yards or so in front of them, two of Jim’s men were working a checkpoint. A high chain-link fence stretched to the left and the right of the checkpoint as far as the eye could see, disappearing into the trees and following the curve of the land. The fence was festooned with “danger of death” signs, their black lightning bolt insignias popping out from their bright yellow backgrounds. Other signs, white ones this time, warned of guard dogs patrolling the premises. Curlicues of barbed wire lined the top of the fence. Copeland spotted the feathered remains of a bird—a pigeon, perhaps—caught amongst the metal. “Welcome to Sunnyvale,” O’Rourke murmured. “Aye,” Big Jim added. He glanced at Copeland in the mirror again and caught his eye. “Ah’m guessin’ this’ll be yer first look at the place. It’s a shithole, but it’s our shithole.” He idled the car to a stop at the barrier and leaned his head out of the window. “Open the gate, ye whoresons,” he shouted. “It’s me, Big Jim.” One of the men on the gate shouted an acknowledgement and held his thumb up. The other raised the gate and waved them through. Copeland got a good look at the gatekeepers while Jim was revving the engine and easing the vehicle back into its slow, inexorable crawl towards the complex. They were wearing army greens with Kevlar vests and heavy truncheons on their belts. Chase caught Copeland’s eye and said, “Sunnyvale’s got the best security this side of the Mersey. Top lads.” “Why so much security?” “It’s more than my job’s worth to tell you that,” Chase said. “Especially not with Big Jim at the wheel.” “Aye,” Jim said. “Eh’ll find oot fae hisself soon enough.” Copeland nodded. “I’m looking forward to it,” he said. “I love a challenge.” “Is that why you’re here?” O’Rourke asked. “The challenge?” “Something like that,” Copeland said. He sighed. “Ask me about it some other time.” The Land Rover was slowing again, and Copeland peered over O’Rourke’s shoulder and out through the windscreen. They were approaching something else, another mess of metal. As the vehicle drove closer, scattering dusty pebbles every which way across the dead ground, the terrain levelled out. At the same time, a wave of brutal fragrance pierced the vehicle and Copeland started coughing. It was the kind of smell that lingered in the nostrils. There was a certain stickiness to it, like second-hand cigarette smoke. It reminded Copeland of a kid he’d gone to school with who reeked of starch, fat, and vinegar because his parents owned a chip shop. Sunnyvale didn’t smell like starch or vinegar, but it did smell like fat. It also smelled like sweat and fear, blood and bile. There was a not-so-subtle hint of rotting flesh and a fishy aroma that put Copeland in mind of bad sushi. It also smelled like desperation. It was a depressing smell, and Copeland couldn’t help turning his nose up at it. “That’s the famous Sunnyvale stench,” Chase said. “Do people get used to it?” “Nah,” Chase replied. “They just accept it. Ain’t no use holding your nose, pal. You’ve just got to get on with it. It’s part of the job. It‘s what we get paid for.” “Smells like shit,” Copeland observed. O’Rourke laughed from the passenger seat. “Smells like a whole lot more than that,” he said. “But Chase is right. That smell won’t go away no matter what you do.” “It gets in yer heid,” Jim said. This time, he didn’t look back at Copeland in the rear-view. His eyes were firmly on the road ahead. They’d reached the second mess of metal, and now they were closer, it was clear what they were looking at. “Is that another checkpoint?” Copeland asked. “Aye,” Jim replied. “It’s like Chase seid. Sunnyvale’s goat the best security this side ay the Mersey.” Big Jim reached forward and turned the music off. The atmosphere in the Land Rover had changed, probably because the great facility was looming in front of them on the other side of the formidable fence. It blocked the sun and cast the approach into shadow, reminding Copeland of a Transylvanian castle in some old vampire movie. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. It’s a far cry from the old practice in Chalfont St. Peter, he thought. It was followed by a second, more urgent thought, something that came from somewhere deep within him. It was a primal thought, like the urge to eat or drink or ejaculate, and it came on suddenly and without warning. We’re being watched. </div> </div>

Dane Cobain

MEAT $17.95

Veterinarian Tom Copeland takes a job at a factory farm called Sunnyvale after a scandal at his suburban practice. His job is to keep the animals alive for long enough to get them to slaughter. But there are rumours of a strange creature living beneath the complex, accidents waiting to happen on brutal production lines and the threat of zoonotic disease from the pigs, sheep, cows, chickens and fish that the complex houses. Suddenly, disaster rocks Sunnyvale and cleaners, butchers, security guards and clerical staff alike must come together under the ruthless leadership of CEO John MacDonald. Together, they’ll learn what happens when there’s a sudden change to the food chain. Bon appétit.

Mitchell R. Stevens

North to the Caliphate $15.50

Former Navy SEAL Jack Landis may have taken on more than he can handle. While investigating a relatively simple slaughter of animals in Iraq, what he finds is an empty field with large pools of blood surrounded by mysterious scorch marks. It doesn’t take him long to conclude that the scorches could have been made by extremely powerful laser weapons. The resources it would take to build and deploy weaponry like that far exceeds what the Iraqis could muster. So the question becomes, who fired these weapons?Back in Washington, CIA Deputy Director Richard North is outraged when he is passed over for the top job, a job that he had earned. Lou Pendleton is a buffoon and political lackey and won’t be hard to disgrace. But North quickly finds that Pendleton isn’t as easy to knock off the top spot as he had thought. When scandal doesn’t work, North turns to more extreme measures, putting the United States and thousands of lives in harm’s way.Pendleton asks Jack to take on the responsibility for tracking down North and stopping him. This leads Landis to Russia and the Middle East, where he must rely on his training, instincts, and a network of allies, some more reliable than others, to navigate the labyrinth of clues to stop North from precipitating World War III.

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Chris Westphal

Deadlines $15.95

As editor of the Empire City Dispatch—a struggling twice-weekly newspaper in coastal Oregon—former investigative journalist Jack Teller thinks he’s found refuge from his traumatic past, until he discovers the body of the outcast scion of the region’s most powerful family, Jesse McLennon. Tragic events closer to home force Teller to delve more deeply into Jesse’s life and death. Teller quickly finds himself in conflict with the McLennons, who will stop at nothing to maintain their positions of power and respect. Dark and brooding, Deadlines evokes the mist-shrouded Oregon Coast as Jack Teller is drawn into a plot of deception and revenge, and reckons with his own troubled past.

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Steven W. Booth

All The Devils $19.99

Carrie Young’s life is one hot mess. The posh political aide is having an affair with her boss, a Congressman who is taking bribes from a major corporation. When a hit man kills the Congressman and sets Carrie up to die in an apparent murder/suicide, she is rescued by Spider Walsh, a soft-spoken janitor. The two strangers go on the run, pursued by an elite network of professional assassins, skilled men and women who do dirty work for the rich and powerful. With both the police and the ruthless group of mercenaries on their trail, Carrie and Spider venture deep into LA’s gang territory, where she must trust her mysterious protector and his friends to keep her alive. Their enemies will stop at nothing to keep Carrie from revealing vital secrets to the authorities. As they begin to fight back, Carrie learns that Spider is not just a janitor after all. In fact, he is a very dangerous man, with a few dark secrets of his own. “All the Devils is a wild and fast-paced thriller pitting brave and quick-witted heroes against a frightening array of vivid adversaries.” —Thomas Perry, author of Big Fish and The Informant

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