Fireline

 

 

A scientific experiment gone horribly wrong sends an apocalyptic firestorm raging throughout the Eastern seaboard. If it reaches the Atlantic, it might just be game over for the world. 

Fireline

by Peter Berk

Genre: Action, Eco Thriller, Suspense

An unhinged scientist introduces a nano-based chemical compound into the Potomac that's designed to purify the world's waterways but that instead sets the river on fire and rapidly spreads directly toward Manhattan, with only the young chemist who first warned against the experiment the worlds best hope of stopping it. 

Fireline takes us from the heart of Washinton, D.C. to the Statue of Liberty - all of which are direclty impacted by an out-of-control firestorm snaking its way to the Atlantic where it could go on to threaten every corner of the world. 

A science gone astray disaster novel, Fireline also touches on such timeless themes as personal redemption, heroism in the face of seemingly insurmountable obstacles, friendship and even father-son dynamics - all handled with touches of humor and romance. 

 

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Peter Berk has written six novels, three TV pilots and a dozen screenplays, including several with his father which became the basis for the TimeLock series of novels. The original TimeLock novel is a Finalist in the 2023 Chanticleer International Book Awards for Science Fiction, Mystery, and Global Thrillers. TimeLock was also named as a Distinguished Favorite in the TechnoThriller category of the 2024 Independent Press Award. TimeLock 2: The Kyoto Conspiracy was published in 2023 and the third book in the series will be published by IngramElliott. Peter and his family live in Southern California.

 

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Memory of Rivers Blitz

 

A Past Life Love Story

Time Travel Romance

Date Published: 09-09-2019

Publisher: Flyway Press LLC

Three Lifetimes, One Love – A Time Travel Romance

 

Vivid sensations and images from Diana’s dreams stream into her conscious mind. Are the dreams memories of her past lives?

As Kari, in prehistoric times, she dances in a coming-of-age ceremony in an ancient cave, with wild animals painted on the walls. Captivated by flute player, Lor, they promise to love each other forever, but dangers threaten their plans.

As Rachel, isolated in gold rush era Deadwood, she is mistreated by her drinking, gambling husband but finds comfort with Civil War veteran Sam. His harmonica music enchants Rachel as they draw together to soothe their lonely souls.

Now, in her life in 1972 Minnesota, Diana is drawn to singer-songwriter Eric. His songs and her memories, along with a deep longing for love, connects her soul with his. Is he the man from her dreams? Will they find happiness together at last?

 

“In an age of brief encounters and ‘friends with benefits,’ lasting love is a rare commodity. But you’ll find it here in Shelley Odendahl’s Memory of Rivers. Enjoy.” – Faith Sullivan, author of nine novels including the latest, Ruby and Roland.

Excerpt

As Eric continued to sing, I stared into his soul. Somehow then, I knew for certain that he was the man I loved, since my earliest memories, since pre-history. We met in a cave, and I danced to his music. Immersed in the past, I felt the dense smokiness of the cave’s enclosed space as the flute player captured my body and spirit. We were alone. Together.

With a slight shake of my head, I pulled myself back to the present, into the enclosed space of a bar, where the smoke of cigarettes hung in the air. My face and neck had grown prickly and hot, as if a mild electrical charge played on the surface of my skin. I focused on Eric, every bit of him, especially his eyes. I inhaled a quick breath when he stared back at me, as if my spirit had summoned his. Still singing, his voice was sensuous, velvet, as it caressed my body and settled into my being.

If, from the other we are ever lost,

Draw me in with your force of life

Somewhere inside, the truth resides,

My elusive woman of the wilds.

Our fates are entwined now and forever,

My dancer, my muse, my river nymph,

My elusive woman of the wilds.

 

His voice quietly held the last note of the song, as his fingers picked the final chord. We maintained eye contact, sharing a moment that began with our encounter at the cave ceremony, and traveled the spectrum of time and place, bringing our emotions into the present. Right now. We were seeing all of each other without ever before having met in this lifetime.

Eric broke eye contact and looked down at his guitar.

“I’ll be back in fifteen minutes,” he told the crowd, as he put the guitar in its rack and stood up. He made his way toward the people at his table up front and sat down with them.

My hands trembled as I dug in my purse for a tissue, using it to dab my tear-filled eyes. What had just happened here? My heart over-flowed, incredulous that I had met my love. I still didn’t know what it all meant to my life today. Would he remember me, from our lives so long ago? What if he didn’t?

 

About the Author

Shelley Odendahl is the author of Serendipity and Other Travel Adventures – stories that cover forty years of touring the world with her husband Cliff.

This book brings readers along as they travel across the USA by motorcycle, and to Europe, Australia, New Zealand, Bali, and Patagonia, experiencing breathtaking highs, and lows that challenged the couple to create solutions along the way.

Shelley also wrote an inspirational book, Realize Your Dreams – Create an Action Plan for Life Transformation, and a time travel novel: Memory of Rivers – A Past Life Love Story.

She lives in Minnesota, USA, with her husband Cliff, where 10,000+ lakes, scenic rivers, majestic white pines, wildflowers, swans, and eagles nurture her spirit.

Her passions are traveling and writing about traveling, creating watercolors, appreciating art of all kinds, and baking her own Sourdough bread from a starter she created over 5 years ago. She enjoys hiking in National Parks, going to musical performances, and being on a lake in a boat.

Shelley is happiest when in the company of her husband, family and friends, with perhaps some food and wine involved.

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Cain’s Chameleon Blitz

 

Historical Fiction

Date Published: 01-27-2026

Publisher: BearssLair Books

If the newspaper reported your death and no one questioned it, would you correct the mistake... or take the lifeline?

Dan Driscoll is consumed by gambling debt, cornered by bookies and loan sharks, forced to bet on one last scheme. When things turn violent and two people are shot, his best friend, Stan Neumann, swallows what he suspects. He can't risk divulging a closely-held family secret.

Then a body washes up on the Lake Michigan shoreline, and the lake gives Dan what the bookies never would: a way out. Authorities call it an accident and list him as the drowning victim. For Dan, it's an escape route delivered in black ink.

He becomes a ghost, an imposter, a chameleon. But lies don't stay buried.

As America is pulled into World War II, Stan enlists, choosing duty on his terms before the draft can rewrite his life. In Pearl Harbor, one chance encounter dredges up a name he thought was long buried.

War changes everything, but it doesn't erase unfinished business. And when the truth demands to be heard, how long can a stolen life stay buried before the past comes to collect?

Excerpt

Lucy wasn’t smiling like she used to when she folded her letter, slipped it into the envelope, sealed it with a kiss, and applied the three-cent stamp. Even the spring in her step lacked the zeal she typically exhibited during her walk to the post office. The words on the paper were true to her commitment. They spoke of the news from the home front, stories that helped Stan’s morale, and made sure her underlying message was being proud, supportive, and encouraging. The words wandering around in Lucy’s thoughts, however, were in stark contrast to this messaging.
Ever since Stan was assigned to the navy radar training school, Lucy had become more and more unsure in her belief that things would be okay. His work as an Aviation Machinists Mate stateside meant he was safe. And Minneapolis was relatively close to home. Being trained as a radarman for shipboard duties meant it was more likely he would be sent overseas into a combat zone. This caused a higher level of worry. Like everything else this war has put in short supply, her ration of optimism was slowly being depleted, and the resources for replenishing that reservoir were becoming scarce.
Her quandary was not letting Stan know about this foreboding, even though he was normally her most trusted sounding board. She tried to talk about this with her sister Millie. But Millie’s approach to these heartfelt struggles was to fix them, make them go away, or advise Lucy, “Try not to think about it.” This was not the type of support Lucy needed.
During her alone time, sitting staring out the window, the overwhelming emotion that prevailed over all others was that she really missed her husband. She now knew what being heartbroken felt like.

 

About the Author

 

While author Mark Bearss was setting the stage for his retirement, concerned co-workers would ask, “What are you going to do when you’re not working?” He found this question rather curious. It should have been posed, “What are you going to do first?” Mark knew that if travel was involved, he had had enough of commercial flights after 28 years of teaching for the medical device industry. Mark yearned for road trips – to visit those places he only saw from 38,000 feet. Little did he know that wish journeyed down an unexpected fork in the road. He would become an author.

While conducting genealogy research, Mark discovered archived de-classified military documents that revealed the name of a U.S. Navy destroyer his father served aboard during WWII. The reason this was a poignant discovery was because, while growing up in Grand Rapids, Michigan, his father made no mention of this. Apart from being a U.S. Naval Reserve flight instructor, he knew his father served aboard the carrier USS ESSEX. But in what capacity? That, too, was not revealed. More discoveries materialized the further he dug. In fact, there was a lot more his father didn’t mention. This wasn’t unusual. Many WWII veterans didn’t talk about what happened back then.Because of the pandemic, the National Archives in St. Louis was closed and rendered Lt. Bearss’ military records unavailable. Thus began a project that challenged Mark’s research endeavors for over two years and about 5,000 miles on the road. The biographical sketch was sorted from creative Internet search strings, history books, navy publications, and networking with journalists, librarians, archivists, bloggers, aviation enthusiasts, museum and historical society curators, navy veterans, relatives, and more. One online resource that was instrumental in tracking his father’s journey was the weekly newspaper published in the county where his parents grew up: The Oceana Herald. It included a Local News section where family members and organizations could submit a short blurb about a relative’s visit, a social gathering, or – where a son or husband was currently stationed.

This project culminated in 2022 with Mark’s first publication titled, Undisclosed Stories Discovered: Honoring the World War II Military Journey of Lt. Joseph Ward Bearss, USNR. When asked what was one of the highlights surrounding this story, he described the road trips to seek out and discover places where his father lived, trained and was stationed during the war. What prompted him to write this as a biography took place during a meeting with the curator of the World War II Home Front Museum on St. Simons Island, Georgia. St. Simons Naval Air Station was the site for the U.S. Naval Radar Training Station, where Lt. Bearss was trained in shipboard radar operations, enemy interception, and Fighter Direction.  While the museum had ample archived materials about the facility, it had very little documented about the servicemembers who trained there.

Only 250 copies were printed. Mark went back on the road in his Class-B motorhome and personally donated those copies to family members, friends and relatives, the librarians, archivists, researchers, museums, curators, historical societies, newspapers, The American Heritage Center, VFW Posts, airport FBOs, and other assorted WWII enthusiasts in 12 states who helped in his endeavors. It was a two-fold reward. Not only did his father’s story finally become told, Mark experienced the pleasure of meeting all these wonderful people who were his resources, advisors, collaborators, and consultants. Up until that point, they were only names in an email contact list.

You’re probably asking, “How is all this relevant to Mark’s new novel, Cain’s Chameleon?” It was the research from The Oceana Herald that planted the seed for this story. While perusing its issues, Mark stumbled on two articles that piqued his curiosity. The first reported an attempted murder in a home close to his family’s summer cottage on Lake Michigan. The second reported a drowning victim that washed up on the beach right where Mark and his friends used to play. Just two more stories never divulged while growing up. He wondered, Were these two events related? Then Mark decided — he would make them related.

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Jazz Bang Boom Teaser

 

Gay Cyberpunk Adventure Romance

Date Published: August 14, 2026

Riot’s attempt to teach his pretty lover to behave himself doesn’t… quite… go as planned.

Jazz loves pretty things and things that go BOOM. Tyger, AKA Riot, is a man on a mission, searching for the bits and pieces that’ll repair his damaged, bio-constructed DNA. It only makes sense for the happily mismatched lovers to turn airship pirates and sneak, snatch or con what they need, right?

Right. One problem. Occasionally Jazz gets a little too fond of explosives, and Tyger gets a tad too focused on his quest. When that happens, they need to vent a little steam. So to speak.

 

EXCERPT

T-minus sixty seconds. Really, it was bad manners to blow up a tea party, but some society dames were just asking for it. Jazz landed in the ornamental rose bushes outside his hostess's parlor window, gathered his heavy silk skirts around his knees, and ran like hell.

Not that he was worried. Jazz knew his explosives like he knew his way around the three-dimensional differential equations of a projected illusory field.

And wine. And perfume. What? Jazz prided himself on having layers.

He ticked off the seconds in his head, listening to an internal countdown. Right about now the aforementioned queens of "polite" society (and those who knew Jazz knew far better than to push a particular argument on behavior becoming to a lady and the mind-boggling double-standards that -- oh, anyway).

Jazz did enjoy traveling to different worlds and sampling the finest wines, velvets, songs and yes, incendiary devices from the thousands of cultures that flourished around the galaxies, but the next time his honey, Riot, wanted to spend time where good manners were forbidden in favor of good times? No thanks.

Where had he been? Oh, right. Crap! Cue the fine ladies screeching, coughing and sneezing, the last of a harmless fog floating out the window he'd helpfully, er, opened by jumping through, and they might have regained enough composure after the flash and bang that went with the smoke to have started complaining and oh, right.

Five, four, three, two --

Jazz managed to free himself of the pannier hoops just in time to dive under the cover of a cluster of almost-certainly-sacred ancient oak trees, before -- BOOM.

If a thing was worth doing, it was worth doing properly. "Proper." See what I did there?

This time, however, the dainty device of detonation had not been hidden in Jazz's decolletage (quite convincing cleavage, if he did say so himself). He'd set the charges long before smiling politely and pretending to enjoy a coin-sized cress sandwich in the ladies' salon.

BOOM.

There, that was the ticket! One for distraction, two to cause confusion to his enemies, e.g. the people in possession of A Thing Jazz Wanted, and a third to blow the ever-living fuck out of irritatingly secure locks that otherwise prevented his honey from wholesale liberation of a few deliciously prized goods.

POOF.

Oops. He'd forgotten the fourth bomb in the salon. Well, that one had been a bit spur of the moment. And a leetle more powerful. Enough to, say, jar loose some ripe pickings of his own, if he were lucky. All he needed to do was circle back around, and --

The discreet two-way comms device concealed in the cunning shape of a rosebud earring spoke to him. "Overkill, Jazz. Overkill."

"Spoilsport," Jazz said, and sneezed. "Let he who has never enjoyed the smell of C4 in the morning cast the first stone in a glass house."

"Excuse me?" The voice on the comms sounded amused. "You're high on adrenaline again, aren't you?"

"Pish, tosh, nonsense, and absolutely, yes. Perhaps that was overkill. Others could say I was in the wrong, but I can't blame me."

"You are a ridiculous man," the speaker said fondly.

"I know." Jazz preened. He sneezed again. "Tch. Plastique is one thing. Debris coated in dust is quite another. What about you, tick-tock man? Did you get what you came here for?"

"Stop calling me that," Riot said, quite clear -- even over the comms -- that he didn't mind in the least, and even had a soft spot in his heart for the nickname. "Yeah, I got what I needed. And then some. Wasn't easy to find and I had to pay a price, but it was worth it."

Jazz enjoyed a ripple's worth of goosebumps. He anticipated all sorts of good things once back on board the Sarah-Jessica-No-Parking. A triumphant Riot made for a feisty Riot with his blood running hot and his body all-systems-go. He employed the same affectionate tone when he replied, "Tell that to the watercress and unspiced kimchi I had to eat to make nice with my hostess."

"The one you just blew up?"

"Unspiced kimchi," Jazz repeated.

"The trials and tragedies you face, darlin'."

"Darn right. This piece of the puzzle you went after -- tell me about it," he coaxed.

"Later. For the moment --"

"Yes, yes. Run and keep running until you swoop in to save the day, and clear out of here before the smoke does?"

"You read my mind," Riot said, very dryly indeed but pleased. Almost purring.

Consider Jazz's curiosity piqued.

"I'm on my way." Such a tragedy, but the skirts had to go. Almost a full bolt of silk! Still, a man had to do what a man had to do, even when he'd tricked himself out in the finest of ladies' clothing.

Probably more so at such times. Hmm. He'd have to think about that more later. In the meantime, business. Beautiful, sparkly, gloriously shiny business! Jazz retrieved the pouches of more easily liftable and valuable trinketry from the panniers and pushed them into his reticule.

"Jazz? When I said run, that wasn't a suggestion."

Oh! Right. "And what'll you be doing while I skedaddle? How will I know if I'm being rescued by the right man?"

"I'll be the one dangling out of an airship with a rope and a half-cocked plan."

"Easily recognizable," Jazz said happily. Wait. "How long a rope? How high do the airships go?" Wouldn't exactly Be Done to whip off the 3-D fooler facade, and on this steampunk aficionado's wet dream of a world the airships he'd seen before had to go quite high indeed --"Riot? How high?"

"High enough I'll make it worth your while to man up and climb. And," Riot purred, "when I say 'worth your while' I mean, 'I plan to punish you, then fuck you three-quarters of the way through the nearest flat surface.'"

"I am so on my way now."

"Fast?"

"Darling, you have no idea." Jazz kicked off his heels. Not the shoes, mind, those gorgeous soft-supple open-calf boots of fawn-soft suede. Just the heels and pattens. "After all, who do you think you're talking to?"

Oh dear. Jazz heard a set of mastiffs on their way. Here I go again. Skirts, knees, running feet, check. Go time.

Fast.

 

About the Author

Willa Okati (AKA Will) is made of many things: imagination, coffee, stray cat hairs, daydreams, more coffee, kitchen experimentation, a passion for winter weather, a little more coffee, a whole lot of flowering plants and a lifelong love of storytelling. Will's definitely one of the quiet ones you have to watch out for, though he -- not she anymore -- is a lot less quiet these days.

 

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Pismo Beach Sniper

 

A sniper.

 A surf contest. 

A father with everything to lose.

Pismo Beach Sniper

A Thad Hanlon/ Bri de la Guerra Mystery Book 3

by Topper Jones

Genre: Private Investigator Mystery 

When sniper fire erupts at the Central Coast Surf Trials at Pismo Beach, private investigator Thad Hanlon is thrust into every parent’s worst nightmare. His eleven-year-old son and two teammates are shot while surfing—one critically injured—plunging the contest into chaos and terrorizing the tight-knit Five Cities beach community.

The shooter disappears, torching his hideout, leaving only questions in his wake. Random attack—or the first move in a deadly game? Why target young surfers? And is the marksman finished…or just getting started?

Urged by desperate parents, Hanlon and his sharp-witted partner, Bri de la Guerra, race to protect the kids as they train for the upcoming West Coast Championships. But as the detective duo close in on the sniper, they uncover a chilling truth: the surf team isn’t his ultimate target—and the nightmare is far from over.

This gripping thriller will keep you turning pages late into the night.

 

What Critics Are Saying

“Engaging characters, wit, and suspense elevate this rip-curling page-turner.”

— Kirkus Reviews

 

“Pismo Beach Sniper is a tense and fast-moving mystery with real emotional stakes. The target audience is readers who enjoy mystery, private investigator fiction, crime thrillers, action suspense, coastal noir, and family-driven detective series. Readers who like Robert Crais’s Elvis Cole and Joe Pike novels may appreciate the same mix of banter, loyalty, and wounded-hearted heroism, though Jones swaps Los Angeles grit for Central Coast surf and spiritual undertow.”

— Literary Titan   

 

“It felt like I was reading something akin to James Patterson: fast, frighteningly imaginative, and furious with action. Pismo Beach Sniper is a deftly plotted story of a man doing everything to keep his child safe in a world where not only waves can kill.”

—R. Oserio, Readers’ Favorite Reviews

 

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Chapter 1

I was sitting under a beach canopy in the spectator section of the California Central Coast Surf Trials, watching the first heat of the semifinals, when I heard the sonic crack of a large firearm. Something long-range like the scoped high-precision rifle my business partner, Bri, uses to qualify at the Five Cities Shoot’n Center.

“What was that?” my son’s surf coach asked. Gev Burian was sitting on my left. “Sounded like it came from behind us.”

Bri de la Guerra, on my right, stood to check things out. “Cityside, yeah. I’m thinking .30 cal. Maybe three-oh-eight.”

I swiveled to scan the low-rise buildings of downtown Pismo—the seafood cafes, souvenir shops, and beach rentals. Clumps of tourists meandering down narrow Pomeroy Avenue stopped. Some gazed skyward, herd-like, examining the highest roofline—the old Hotel Pier Vista. Others rushed indoors.

When a second blast didn’t happen soon after, I saw pedestrians raise their palms in the classic “what’s up” shrug before continuing their weekend saunter. Some, trailing well-groomed dogs on leashes, took refuge in their smartphones.

I turned to face the Pacific as Bri sat in her folding chair. Coach Gev got out his binocs and we rejoined the hundreds of other parents, friends, and supporters along the beach to watch the tournament.

Three junior surfers, ages eleven to twelve—”grommets” in surf jargon—were perched on their boards 100 yards offshore in the chilly morning waters north of Pismo Pier. The contestants wore different colored jerseys over their wetsuits. Red jersey had priority takeoff; the next wave was his. As the kids waited for the sets to roll in, they bobbed in the mushy surf like sitting ducks.

“Yellow’s down!” Coach Gev shouted. He handed me his binoculars. “The kid’s slumped sideways off his board.”

“Cramp, maybe?” I pressed the field glasses to the bridge of my nose, fiddling with the adjustments. “January water temps are cold, fifty-three, fifty-four degrees. These temps? He should have worn a 5/4/3 mm instead. Maybe even a—”

There was a second sonic crack. I watched Yellow’s board splinter into pieces. Chunks of the foam core ringed the downed contestant as he struggled to keep his head above water.

Red jersey, closest to Yellow, dropped prone and paddled with fury toward him. Just as he was about to grab Yellow’s arm, I heard shot three. There was a splash near the tail of Red’s board.

Red turned turtle, flipping his tri-fin surfboard over so the bottom faced the sky. Only his hands, gripping the sides of the shortboard, were exposed.

Shot four took out Red’s middle fin. Shots five and six took out the two outer fins. Red let go of his board and sank out of view.

That left the eleven-year-old in the light blue jersey as the only contender sitting on the water. My son, Zael, was in full competition mode, hyper-focused on The One Thing—a wave with his name on it. A wave built by the sea gods just for him, for his performance, his tricks, the ones he’d stick. The 10-rating he’d be awarded by all three judges. That perfect ten.

Zael was in the zone, tunnel vision his ally. Chaos bending to will. He had no clue what had happened to Red and Yellow.

I popped out of my beach chair, sprinted from our shade canopy to the shoreline, and screamed as I waded in. “Duck and cover, Zael! Get down! Now!” I waved my arms, zigzagging through the shallows.

My son wasn’t hearing me, wasn’t seeing me, wasn’t even attuned to my panic despite his gift for sensing things unspoken. Zael paddled hard for takeoff, slid into the three-foot wave breaking off the pier, and dropped into the curl. He drove down the line, pumping his board to build speed, then bottom turned, and angled toward the lip to launch into his signature 360-degree air rotation and—

Blam.

Shot seven.

Zael’s right leg buckled. He lost balance and angled into a dive as far away from his board as his leash would let him. When he didn’t come up for air...

Oceano Beach Bedlam

A Thad Hanlon/ Bri de la Guerra Mystery Book 2 

Hanlon & de la Guerra have gone full service. In this second book in the surfing crime-fighter mystery series, Thad Hanlon and his martial-arts-obsessed partner, Bri de la Guerra, hang out their shingle as newly licensed private investigators. Now in addition to fraud-busting, the two detectives do it all. Background checks. Surveillance. Even finding lost souls. Just about anything that requires sleuthing or going undercover.

All they need is a client.

That’s when a former exotic dancer from Bakersfield CA shows up looking for her surf prodigy son who’s gone missing in the wake of cult violence terrorizing the California Central Coast.

 

What Critics Are Saying

“A crunchy detective novel set in the world of California surfers. Jones delivers a proper beach read, both in form and content.”

-Kirkus Reviews

 

“Honestly, I had a blast with this one. Oceano Beach Bedlam is a smart and entertaining read. If you like your mysteries with surfboards, sass, and just enough heart to keep you caring, this one’s for you. It’s a great pick for fans of offbeat detectives, fast dialogue, and sun-drenched noir with a brain and a soul. I’d recommend it to readers who enjoy Janet Evanovich, Robert Crais, or the beachier edges of Elmore Leonard.”

— Literary Titan  

 

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All That Glisters

A Thad Hanlon/ Bri de la Guerra Mystery Book 1

When the facts don’t add up in his surf buddy’s bizarre death, forensic consultant (and daddy-to-be) Thaddeus Hanlon investigates, volunteering to go undercover to pick up where best friend Rafi Silva left off in a secret probe of the U.S. gold stockpile—every last bullion bar.

Rafi’s spunky fiancée, Bri de la Guerra, has suspicions of her own and soon joins Thad on the hunt for answers. Together, the two amateur sleuths delve deep, stumbling onto a financial a-stock-alypse in the making, triggering a brutal manhunt along the Eastern seaboard meant to silence anyone looking to set the ledger straight.

 

What Critics Are Saying

“Jones’ action-packed murder mystery...is tension-fueled with plenty of twists and two appealing sleuths. In this detective series opener, Thad Hanlon, a 27-year-old forensic accountant, becomes the target of a murderous cadre when he accepts a new assignment that takes him from Los Angeles to the East Coast center of power. Woven into the gripping plot are sensual, detailed descriptions of Thad’s adventures riding the waves, which should please the surfer crowd and afford others a visceral sense of the experience.”

—Kirkus Reviews

 

“All That Glisters by Topper Jones is well-written with not a single dull moment. I liked the way the author included elements of action, mystery, and even some cyber investigating. Overall, I found this book to be an amazing read.”

—Sefina Hawke, Readers’ Favorite Reviews

 

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Writing as Topper Jones, award-winning author Christopher G. Jones, Ph.D., delivers detective fiction with a dash of romance, plenty of action, and memorable characters. His Thad Hanlon & Bri de la Guerra Mystery Series has earned Readers’ Favorite Five Stars and the Literary Titan Gold Book Awards.

 Before writing full-time, Jones taught financial reporting and business systems development at the university level and worked in public accounting and consulting. He is a member of The Private Eye Writers of America and International Thriller Writers, and an affiliate of Mystery Writers of America.

 To stay close to family, Jones now lives in the southwestern desert rather than his native California. But when the surf’s up, he’ll make the 450-mile trek to the coast for a little “water therapy.”

 

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Who Will Carry the Fire? Blitz

 

More Reflections from a North Woods Lake

Memoir

Date Published: 04-07-2025

Publisher: RiverPlace Press

Who Will Carry the Fire? More Reflections from a North Woods Lake by Darrell J. Pedersen thoughtfully examines the value of human history, traditions, memories, and relationships and reiterates the importance of preserving and faithfully passing these along to the next generation. Through a collection of essays and the retellings of his early days as a son, brother, husband, and father, Pedersen shows readers that we all have been gifted these irreplaceable stories by those who came before us. These remembered stories will work to keep the thread of storytelling alive while passing down the life-giving flames of laughter, human community, and hope to our children and future generations. Using a blend of wisdom, humor, reflection, and life stories in Minnesota, Pedersen expertly weaves a book that is both a memoir/collection of essays and a celebration of life.

Excerpt

Five Young Men And Christmas 2020

 

A hairy arm, plaid flannel sleeve rolled up, extended out of the pickup window and held high a fist with middle finger raised. A week before Christmas, at the end of the tumultuous year 2020, I was headed for the dump. Driving where four lane transitions to two, loud rumbling acceleration of an engine caught my attention. There he is, up ahead of me in the right lane, a big pickup. Speeding up, he slid in front of a small car. That’s when I spotted his obscene gesture. What, I wondered, did that other driver do to earn that reaction? Drawing close behind the little car, I spotted the offense. This little old lady had made the mistake of sporting a small presidential campaign sticker in her back window. I guessed giving her the finger was a victory for him.

Witnessing this attack on humanity by a bearded young man in a big pickup caused me to reflect on his place in our society and world. I thought about the large number of bearded young men I had lately witnessed in televised protests, a few packing assault rifles. Some, recently, shouted obscenities at me and others for standing in silent support of Black Lives Matter. I wondered, has this whole generation been lost? But then I recalled, my own son is bearded and drives a noisy, old jeep, and he’s currently using his vocational skills to put together a virtual Christmas Eve service for his church.

That was Friday. Today, Monday, my wife and I pulled into a long line outside Burger King. I immediately took notice of the young man ahead of us in the row. He was driving an old pickup, paint peeling off and rusty jagged holes in its fenders. Seeing him watching us in his mirror, I wondered if he was another of these young ruffians.

Behind us, a brand new, red Jeep slipped into line. In my mirror I saw another young man driving. I noted huge tires, winch, fancy mirrors, decals, all the options. Lots of money for that one, I thought. I wonder what kind of a job he has? I never had money to buy something like that when I was his age. I don’t have money to buy something like that even at age 68.

A long wait; we were one car back now. The young driver in the rusty pickup carried on an extended conversation with the window person whose hand held the outstretched plastic tub awaiting payment. Is he hassling that poor cashier? Finally, he put his credit card in the tub, received his food, and drove away. Our turn. The twenty-something man in the window, masked, said, “Your meal has already been paid for. The fellow ahead of you took care of your bill.”

“What?”

He repeated. Bill paid. Young man in the pickup truck. $17.84.

“Well, can I pay for the people behind me?”

“Yes, if you want to.”

“Yes, please, let me pay for their bill.” His bill. I remembered; it was the young fellow in the expensive Jeep. I handed the cashier my credit card and he rang it up.

“How much was it?”

“Just over three bucks.”

“Well, can I pay for the next car too?”

“Sure.”

“How much is that one?”

“That one is $24.95.”

“Okay, thanks, that will be just fine.”

Bill paid. Food delivered. Credit card returned. Ready to coast away, I looked my young fellow in the eye and offered, “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas and God bless you,” he replied.

“And God bless you too,” I said to one of my new young friends at Burger King.

Five young men just before Christmas in 2020. Pandemic, political strife, racism. So much trouble all around. Five young men and an old guy. Maybe there’s still hope.

 

 

About the Author

ABOUT THE "LITTLE DICKENS"

Darrell J. Pedersen was raised in the 1950-60s, on a little lake in Minnesota’s North Woods. He grew up and moved away, but his heart has never left that place. His family, the lake, woods, and critters that embraced his young life taught him to appreciate today and to be hopeful for tomorrow. He learned to care for the creation and the neighbor. To leave the world a little better place than he found it.

Since retirement, he has published his first memoir/collection of essays, Campfire in the Basement: Reflections from a North Woods Lake. One year later, Who Will Carry the Fire? More Reflections from a North Woods Lake is now in your hands. Both books include real life stories of everyday people living one day at a time in a challenging, yet amazing world. Hard work, laughter, tears, wins and losses. He believes you will find your story here too. Darrell and his wife, Jennifer, live in Baxter, Minnesota.

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Defense Mechanisms Blitz

 

Medical Thriller

Date Published: April 22, 2026

The end of disease is the end of humanity.

Can the destruction of humanity be prevented?

At an international medical conference, infectious-disease physician Noah Winter encounters the enigmatic Dr. Balodis—a visionary who claims to have engineered microbes capable of regenerating human cells, ending aging, and curing the world’s deadliest diseases.

But the miracle comes with a terrifying cost. Balodis plans to force humanity’s evolution—and reshape the world order. Once unleashed, the organisms mutate beyond control, spreading rapidly across the globe.

Hunted by intelligence agencies, mercenaries, and Balodis’s private army, Noah must expose the truth before the cure becomes a global extinction event.

Time is running out—and the cure may be humanity’s final mistake.

 

 

About the Author

Mo Kramer brings a background in medicine, communication, and psychology to the world of suspense fiction. After publishing several nonfiction books, Kramer makes a thriller debut with a chilling story of microbes, invisible threats, and the dangerous illusion of human control. Combining scientific realism with psychological suspense, this thriller keeps readers on edge while leaving disturbing questions behind long after the final page.

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