Showing posts with label romantic suspense. Show all posts
Showing posts with label romantic suspense. Show all posts

Thursday, August 17, 2023

A Visit with Arlene Culiner and The Turkish Affair

Please welcome Arlene Culiner, who is going to tell us about her fabulous mystery/romance The Turkish Affair. 

The words Romantic Mystery often conjure up serial killers, car chases, shoot-outs, and gun-packing super heroes and heroines. I, however, prefer reality. When finding myself in terrible danger, do I contemplate romance? Can I count on the sudden appearance of a sexy secret agent who puts all villains out of commission? Of course not. Instead of all that action, I transport readers to unusual places, give them unconventional intelligent heroes and heroines. In The Turkish Affair, Anne Pierson is a former American journalist who, after a scandalous affair with the wrong man, lost her job and her reputation. For the last ten years, she’s been hiding in backwoods Turkey and working as a translator. My hero, archaeologist Renaud Townsend, is passionate about his work and ancient history, but he’s determined to keep his independence.

Like Anne, I once lived in a small community in central Turkey, and I worked as a translator (then later, as a belly dancer—but that’s another story altogether). I was in Turkey at a difficult time: the police were corrupt, there was political unrest, and there were frequent arrests. Several times I found myself in danger, and once, as related in The Turkish Affair, a brave young woman rescued me. I was also present when archaeologists were called in to identify stolen coins, and the thefts from an archaeological site did happen in the way I describe them.

   Of course Anne’s story is very different from mine. And one morning, while passing through an archaeological site, I caught sight of a man ambling in the direction of a tumble of ruined pillars. He was lean, supple, and the torrid sun caught the golden blaze of his hair. He became Renaud Townsend, the hero of The Turkish Affair.

Blurb:

Priceless artifacts are disappearing from the ancient Hittite site of Karakuyu in Turkey, and the site director has vanished. Called in to solve the mystery, archaeologist Renaud Townsend is hindered by both his inability to speak the language and the knowledge that the local police are corrupt. His attraction to translator Anne Pierson is immediate, although he is troubled by her refusal to talk about the past and her fear of public scandal.

But when murder enters the picture, both Anne and Renaud realize that the risk of falling in love is not the only danger.

 Excerpt:

The sound of insistent knocking penetrated through heavy layers of sleep. Anne fought her way out of the world of dreams and back into consciousness. The knocking persisted. It was real. Louder. Longer. Someone out in the street was hammering on the door of this house. What time was it? Not morning. This didn’t have the feel of morning. Beyond the skimpy curtains imperfectly covering the windows of her room, the sky was black. So it was still night. Anne’s fingers fumbled blindly, searching for the little clock on the table to her left.
      Two o’clock? What was going on? She lay still in her warm bed, fearing the unknown. There was nothing to do but wait. Durmuş, the male head of the family, would attend to the matter. He was the only one qualified for such a job; here, one conformed to strict rules.
      The knocking stopped. She strained her ears, desperate to know what was going on. Silence. It was probably nothing at all. Perhaps someone—a relative, a neighbor—was ill and needed to call a doctor. Not everyone, particularly older people, possessed a telephone out here. Perhaps it was something simple: a burst pipe, a birth? Perhaps a cousin, an uncle and aunt had just arrived from distant place like Germany. Or France. She stopped speculating and tried to calm herself, well aware of how tense and frightened she was.
      One never knew what was really going on in this part of the world. This wasn’t a major city like Istanbul or Ankara; this was nothing like the south coast with its tourist hotels, foreign-owned apartments, and the modern dwellings of middle-class Turks. This was the backwoods where everyone relied on rumor, speculation, or mumbled stories. Too many of those stories told of arrests and interrogations—arrests that often took place at hours like this, when everyone’s guard was down.
      Pointless, ignoring the reality of life. Yes, people here were kind and generous, and the countryside was outstandingly beautiful. But there were dangers. The political situation was unstable. There was no check on police power, and human rights barely existed. Everyone, even those from upstanding families, feared the knock on the door. And she, a foreign, unattached woman, could always be deemed a bad influence in this conservative society.
      “Anne?” Durmuş was outside her door, calling her softly. “Anne, wake up.”
      As if she could have slept through such a din. Leaping out of bed, she raced to the door, opened it. Durmuş’s pale, lined face didn’t look particularly anxious. That, at least, was a good sign.
      “Some people want to see you. It’s urgent, they say.”
      Of course it would be, at an hour like this. “Who?”
      “Yıldız, from the Tourist Board. The police.”
      “The police?” Her heart caught.
      “Another man, too.”
       “I’ll get dressed.” She closed the door with trembling hands and hastily scrabbled around for clothes—how did shoes manage to hide themselves when you needed them most?—then headed down the corridor toward the vestibule. Under the naked bulb, she saw Yıldız Bey and the police officer. The third man…
      Her astonished eyes met Renaud’s apologetic ones. “Sorry for waking you at this ungodly hour, Anne,” he said quietly. “I would have telephoned, but no one seems to have a number for you.”
      “I don’t have a cell phone.” She preferred being well off the world’s radar.
      “Well, that’s the answer then.” He smiled faintly. “We couldn’t wait until morning. Mr. Yıldız was good enough to bring me here, and we have to get going.”
      “Going? To where?”
      “We’re driving to Denizşehir where you’ll be doing some translating. I’ll give you the details when we’re on the road. Pack an overnight bag, just in case we have to stay longer.”
      “Denizşehir?” That city was hundreds of miles away, down on the coast. What did Denizşehir have to do with her? With Renaud and the police? And why leave now, at this crazy hour? How unreal everything seemed at this time of the morning—or was it night?      She was hardly in a position to protest. This was an emergency of some sort, or Yıldız Bey wouldn’t have brought Renaud to this respectable family home where she lived.
      Back in her room, she stuffed essentials into a traveling bag. A blouse, light skirt. What else would need? A nightgown. A dress—something elegant, pretty, and feminine, just in case they would be seeing important people down on the coast…unless this was pure coquetry on her part. The thought made her smile.

What they say about The Turkish Affair

Glittering descriptions, magical settings, and enviable characters. Culiner’s mastery of the English language and sentence combinations form an enchanting read for lovers of romance and adventure. Readers’ Favorite

 

Work has gone into making sure the historic facts and archaeological details are spot on. This is an excellent book that was an easy read. The pace was steady and the mystery kept me gripped to the unexpected ending. Whispering Stories Book Blog

 

Buried pasts and questionable reputations, vulnerable hearts, fragile feelings, suspense, fear, and intrigue—they are all here. I didn’t want to put it down. J Livingstone 

Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4zkQ20uC4eg

Purchase Links: https://books2read.com/TheTurkishAffair

About the Author

 

J. Arlene Culiner

Writer, social critical artist, and impenitent teller of tall tales, J. Arlene Culiner, was born in New York and raised in Toronto. She has crossed much of Europe on foot, has lived in a mud house on the Great Hungarian Plain, in a Bavarian castle, a Turkish cave dwelling, a haunted house on the English moors, and on a Dutch canal. She now resides in a 400-year-old former inn in a French village of no interest where, much to local dismay, she protects spiders, snakes, and weeds.

Observing people in cafes, in their homes, on trains, or in the streets, she eavesdrops on all private conversations, and delights in hearing any nasty, funny, ridiculous, sad, romantic, or boastful story. And when she can't uncover really salacious gossip, she makes it up.

Social links:

Website: https://www.j-arleneculiner.com/the-turkish-affair

Author: https://linktr.ee/j.arleneculiner

 

Friday, June 23, 2023

NN Light’s Summertime Event Features Orion’s Foot: Myth, Mystery & Romance in the Amazon Today!

 


Summer officially kicks off on June 21. Many readers are looking for great books to read this summer as they lounge at the pool, sunbathe on the beach, or vacation in exotic places. Have I got the book for you! Put June 23 on your calendar!

Monsters, passion, & obsession lurk deep in the jungle

Drop by N. N. Light’s Book Heaven for their Summertime Bookish Event June 23 for a taste of my mystery Orion’s Foot: Myth, Mystery & Romance in the Amazon. See how much you know about constellations.

https://www.nnlightsbookheaven.com/post/orion-s-foot-sbbe


https://www.nnlightsbookheaven.com/post/orion-s-foot-sbbe


The giveaway prize is a $25 Amazon (US or CA) gift card. Runs June 20 – June 28, 2023.

Winner will be drawn on June 29, 2023.

https://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/92db7750223 a Rafflecopter giveaway

Sunday, June 14, 2020

Know the hero: Spencer’s Lapses of Memory on Romance Lives Forever


Romance Lives Forever is hosting me with a look at my romantic suspense thriller Lapses of Memory today: https://rlfblog.com/lapses-of-memory-061420 


A rush of emotion dropped a veil over all but the tiny world of the two people in seats 11A and 11B, in a jet plane floating somewhere over the Atlantic, in a still moment in time.


Sydney Bellek first meets Elian Davies in the 1950s on a Boeing 377 Stratocruiser when she is five and he is seven. They run into each other every few years after that, but while he knows from the start that she is his true love, she does not. Later, as rival journalists, they vie for scoops on international crises from the Iranian revolution to the Lebanese civil war. The handsome and intrepid Elian beats her out at every turn, even while keeping his love for her secret.

Only after years of separation does she finally realize they are meant to be together, but this time, in a twist of fate, it is Elian whose memory of her is gone. Will he remember her before she loses heart or will their new love be enough to replace the old one?

Friday, April 3, 2020

Pirates, Puritans, & Princes—Whirlwind Romance


And the fourth installment in the increasingly mislabeled trilogy. Here’s something from my wild Caribbean romantic suspense novel Whirlwind Romance.

Pirates, Puritans, and princes—pieces of the puzzle in the whirlwind romance between a jelly maker and a castaway.



Paraiso, the island in Whirlwind Romance, is based on a real island in the western Caribbean that I discovered—how else?—mucking around on the internet. Called Providencia, it forms an archipelago with two other islands, San Andres and Santa Catalina, and five uninhabited atolls. Currently under the Colombian flag, it has been the ruled by an incredible variety of groups, from Henry Morgan the notorious buccaneer, to Spanish Conquistadors, Dutch traders, even English Puritans. Now part of the UN's Seaflower Biosphere, it sports the third largest coral reef in the world. To reach it isn't easy, which is why it's not well known in tourist circles.
Its rich and odd history made it an intriguing backdrop for my story, but please be aware that most of the cultural and geographic description of Paraiso in Whirlwind Romance, not to mention the characters, is purely fictional.

Blurb

In the aftermath of a hurricane, Lacey Delahaye finds herself marooned on an island on the Gulf coast of Florida with a mysterious man. They are immediately drawn to each other, but before Armand can confess his identity, they are kidnapped and taken to a tiny island in the western Caribbean. With the help of her son Crispin and a small, but fierce young boy, Inigo, she and Armand must face down pirates, power-mad ideologues, and palace intrigue, if they are to restore the once idyllic tropical island to its former glory.

Mangrove swamp near Lacey's house


In this excerpt, Lacey and Armand are only beginning to slip into what might be love.

Excerpt (PG): Slipping Briskly
The full moon shone through the window, illuminating Lacey’s nodding head. Armand touched her cheek. “I think it’s your bedtime.”
Stung, she shot back, “I’m taking care of you, remember?”
He held up a hand. “Sorry! I’d forgotten.” After a moment, he asked, his tone diffident, “Can you help me up?”
Lacey put an arm around his back and together they limped to Crispin’s room. She took his pants and shirt off and folded them neatly. As she turned to leave, he touched her arm. “Stay a minute?”
How could she admit she had to get out of there quickly or she wouldn’t be able to go at all? His handsome face—the strong chin covered with stubble, the pearly teeth contrasting with his tan skin, not to mention the long, graceful fingers he held out to her—all conspired to lure her closer. Her heart led the way, propelling her to his side. She sat down. “What is it?”
“Lacey…um.”
Her body tensed as desire fought to get out, and she fought just as hard to keep it in. I have to go. I have to…go. “What?”
His words came out in a rush. “Lacey, the other day—the first night—when you rescued me. When we…we…”
Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Christ.
“I…uh…want you to know I don’t do that on a regular basis.”
His air of shy ambivalence gave her courage. “I see. You don’t have sex on a regular basis?”
“No, no, it’s not that.” He stopped, flustered. “Er, I mean… I don’t sleep with women indiscriminately.”
Should she let him off the hook? Nah. “But you do sleep with a lot of women?”
“No! Lacey, you’re being difficult on purpose. I meant, that I didn’t mean to…you know. It just happened. Forgive me?”
“I—”
Armand interrupted her. “Not that it wasn’t enjoyable.” He seemed distracted, running a finger down her arm. “Wonderful. Fantastic. Too short.” He peered at her. “Lacey, you must know how beautiful you are. You have the most perfect cheekbones I’ve ever seen.”
“Cheekbones?” What the hell is he talking about?
“I’m an amateur photographer. Those cheekbones could belong to a supermodel. Perfectly sculpted. And your nose…” He tapped the tip. “A little pixie nose. It even turns up slightly. Your long, fine hair is the russet-gold of burnished copper pots I once saw piled high in a shop on Martinique. Your eyes…” He closed his. “Your eyes are the blue-green of a freshly mowed cricket field, of the emeralds that grow deep in the mountains, of the lagoon near my home on a blustery day.” He touched her hand. “Then there’s your body—as I remember it—a soft, comfortable, pillowy—”
“Hey!” Lacey shook her head to break the spell. “I think you’ve said enough. Get some sleep.”
She tried to rise, but he slipped his arms around her and drew her close. She wanted to struggle. She tried to struggle. It was no use. The long kiss filled her with a warmth that matched a fire on a cold night, a cup of cocoa, or a hot bath. When he lay back, the warmth turned to blazing passion. The power of it frightened her. I’ve got to go. She ran out of the room before he could stop her.

Paraiso


Wild Rose Press, 8/17/2016, Champagne Rose imprint
Contemporary romance/Action Adventure; M/F; 2 flames
Imprint: Champagne
Rating: Hot (R)
Ebook 89,905 words; Print: 358 p. 

Buy links:
Kobo   Google   ITunes   Walmart   Indigo


Tuesday, June 18, 2019

Brenda Whiteside and Sleeping with the Lights On With Us Today




Please welcome Brenda Whiteside, author of Sleeping with the Lights On. Brenda, Sleeping with the Lights On was your first full-length novel. Can you tell us how it came about?

Ten years ago, this month, I signed my first contract for book publication. Sleeping with the Lights On was actually the first full length novel I’d written, although it started out as a short story. And the story is now an audio book. I’m thrilled. Lily Dubuque did a fantastic job of bringing my characters to life.

I love to tell the journey of this novel took.

One afternoon, hanging with my sister, she complained about her last disappointing date. She was divorced, and sick of dating and being single. I always told her, jokingly, you've had more men in your life than any one woman deserves, so buck up. I suggested her dating life would make great fodder for a short story. I sat at my computer and told her to recite a characterization of every man she'd dated, starting with the ill-fated relationship with the G.I. in Germany who took her on a date to the Black Forest and didn't get past the first tree, so to speak. I titled the file "Of Men and Bullshit."

Over the next few weeks, that story grew. I had so much fun telling the tale of a fifty-year-old woman who’d not found Mr. Right or a career. I added a few fictional escapades, but the men who appear in the book are real enough. And by the way, I couldn’t fit in all of them.

Once I finished, I decided to enter it in a small regional contest. A few weeks later, I decided to submit it to The Wild Rose Press for publishing. Thank goodness I submitted before I got the contest results back. They trashed my baby. I might have been too discouraged to continue. But TWRP loved it! Publisher wins out over contest judges every time!

In the ten years since publication, the cover has been updated once, and now it’s available on audio in addition to eBook and print. It’s a great summer read.

My sister and I at my book launch


The Wild Rose Press, May 21, 2010
Audio Release date: May 1, 2019
Genre: Contemporary Romance
242 pages
Heat Rating: Sensual

A secret admirer, a redheaded stalker, and an eccentric millionaire have thrown Sandra Holiday on a dangerous path.

After two failed marriages and countless relationships, Sandra thinks she’s met the man to end her years of less than perfect choices; choices that not only derailed her travel-related career plans, but also left her single and broke.

Carson Holiday, a Las Vegas country crooner with swoon-inducing good looks, spent his adult life pursuing a recording contract and love, never holding on to either. After eighteen years, he drops back into Sandra’s life, reigniting an attraction he can’t deny.

When Carson reappears, Sandra must choose again. As life confronts her with yet another turning point, will her decisions find her eternally sleeping with the lights on – or will she finally discover a way to turn them off?


Excerpt: Moon Shadows

“When do you go back to Vegas?”
Carson hesitated. “In a day or two.”
Pulling me around, we stopped, facing each other. My head said run like hell, but my legs wouldn’t respond. Mushy from wine or Carson and moonlight. I couldn’t be sure which.
“Have lunch with me tomorrow, darlin’.” His fingers slipped from mine to gingerly brush along my forearm. The moonlight caught in his eyes. “Another hour of your time with a long-lost friend?”
“Yes.” My voice went all husky and come-hither. I wanted to kick myself for being so easy.
“Good.” Grasping my hand again, he led me toward the door. “What’s the address of your office?”
I struggled to shake off the moon shadows and to remember where I worked. Once inside the building, I took a scrap of paper from my purse and wrote the address.
“I’ll walk you to your door and say goodnight,” he said, tucking the scrap of paper in his pocket. “Unless you want to have me in for a goodnight drink.”
I didn’t answer. If he’d only known the extent of my uncertainty at that moment, a little persistence might have made me cave.
“Okay, then—” His mouth gaped.
I followed his bewildered look to my apartment door and the pinned sheet of paper.
TRAMP


Buy Links:

Audio


Brenda Whiteside
About the Author
Brenda Whiteside is the author of suspenseful, action-adventure romance. Mostly. After living in six states and two countries—so far—she and her husband have decided they are gypsies at heart. They share their home with a rescue dog named Amigo while splitting their time between Northern Arizona and the RV life. If you enjoy stories by Linda Howard, Sharon Sala, Calle J. Brookes, or Amanda McKinney, you’ll enjoy Brenda’s romantic suspense.

Visit Brenda at


Saturday, October 6, 2018

A True Story that Inspired My Mason's Mark



The Mason's Mark: Love and Death in the Tower, arose in part out of a true story. Starting in the 1940s an Italian named Licio Gelli embarked on a lifetime of bizarre scams and crimes. Alternately linked to rightists and leftists, he bilked or used people from Italian politicians, to the Nazis, the Communists, the CIA, even to Juan Peron, dictator of Argentina. His exploits cross the globe and spanned four decades. At last check, he was still alive, in his nineties and writing poetry from prison. In 1996 he was even nominated for the Nobel prize in literature.

Gelli with Masonic symbols from his renegade lodge
Gelli is most famous for founding a Masonic lodge called Propaganda Due, a renegade group that was first dissolved, then reinstated, then erased by the Grand Orient de Italia. He had ensnared many prominent Italians into P2, which ultimately led to several huge scandals.  He is the model for the shadowy puppetmaster in my new romantic suspense novel The Mason's Mark: Love and Death in the Tower (an Old Town Romance).

The Mason’s Mark: Love & Death in the Tower

In both the best and worst first day at work ever, docent Claire Wilding meets the man of her dreams, but her carefully rehearsed guided tour of the George Washington National Masonic Memorial collapses when she discovers a body and is drawn into a dark world of black ops and Italian renegade masons, of secret cabals and hidden treasure. Also cloaked in mystery is handsome Gideon Bliss, a George Washington expert who haunts the Memorial, his manner evasive. What is his secret? Claire fears she'll fall in love with him only to learn he's a thief or even a murderer. Juggling two eccentric mothers, an inquisitive sister, and an increasingly smitten detective, Claire must find answers to a complex web of intrigue, including who to trust and who to love.

Wild Rose Press, May 6, 2016 (Crimson Rose imprint)
Mystery/Cozy Mystery, Romantic suspense
ebook 79,000 words; print 322 pp.
M/F;  3 flames


Where Gideon & Claire meet


Excerpt (PG):  First Meeting
“Next we’ll be visiting a museum devoted to George Washington. The Masonic Memorial houses an impressive collection of artifacts, some of which were donated by the Washington family and some rescued from the fire in 1871 that destroyed the first lodge. Please be sure to check out Dr. Elisha Cullen Dick’s pocket watch. He was George Washington’s close friend and presided over his death bed.”
As they filed out on the fourth floor and automatically turned right as all human flocks do, Claire surveyed the room. The black and white parquet floor sparkled. Around three sides ran a balcony, filled with small alcoves and paintings. The light from a porthole window flooded the room. As she headed toward a bust of George Washington, a shadow moved behind a column. She took a step toward it, but Mrs. Malloy’s voice stopped her. “Frank, Luther—you be good, hear? I’m gonna sit down for a bit.”
Claire watched, horror-struck, as the woman plunked down on the Chippendale chair Washington had used as Worshipful Master of the Lodge. The yellow tape meant to prevent access to it lay in tatters on the floor. She had lunged forward, one hand stretched out to grab the transgressor, when the shadow flitted across her vision again. Feeling like a spectator at a tennis match, she spun around. There. Shaking a finger at the woman and barking “No!” in her most imperious voice, she rounded a pillar. Sure enough, a man stood there by a small bookcase built into the wall.
During Claire’s training, Mr. Quinn had ground into her the absolute prohibition against unauthorized individuals wandering around in the Tower. Oh God, I hope I don’t have to call for backup. “Sir? Can I help you?”
The man jumped and turned to her, his eyes wide, giving Claire the opportunity to admire two very large orbs tinted a luminous tourmaline green. His mobile face sported a Roman nose of reasonable proportion, a strong chin only slightly marred by a salt-and-pepper stubble, and the high cheekbones of an Aztec chief. His tan was not so deep as to seem artificial. Claire had raised her eyes to behold a head of wavy, chocolate brown hair when he began to speak. His sonorous baritone—a cross between Dean Martin and Elvis Presley—captivated her and she found herself humming “That’s Amore” under her breath.
“No, thank you…er…” He peered at her chest. Her hand went protectively to the bosom that drew most eligible bachelors’ attention until she realized he was trying to read her name badge.
“Um…Claire. Claire Wilding. I’m the docent here.” She indicated her troops, at least two of whom were attempting to wreak irreparable damage on each other with a wooden staff carved in the likeness of John the Baptist. “Who are you?”
He smiled suddenly, revealing brilliant white teeth. His whole face lit up, and Claire swallowed hard. “I’m Gideon Bliss. And in case you’re wondering whether I’m here lawfully, the answer is yes.” He stuck out a large hand, calluses prominent on his trigger finger. They reminded Claire of her father’s hands. “David—Mr. Comfrey—gave me permission to visit the museum.” His eyes glinted with little flecks of gold and humor.
Claire found herself at a loss for words and not just because he’d invoked the name of the Worshipful Master of the Alexandria-Washington Masonic Lodge. She sank into the depths of his verdant eyes, while the mellifluous voice rolled over her. Just before she nodded off, he stopped speaking. She shook herself. “Oh, I see. Well, I’ll leave you to it.” Sheesh, Claire, are you shooting for the most pitiful female in Washington award?
Bliss hadn’t moved. “You say you’re the docent here? Could you help me find something?”
Claire dropped her eyes and mumbled, “Uh…”
“I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“Um…this is my first day. I…I doubt if I can help you.”
He chuckled. “So you didn’t actually mean anything by your first question.”
“My first…Oh, well, you know, that was sort of…rhetorical. I mean, no one is supposed to be here. Other than me. And of course them.” She waved at the group, who had now begun to congregate by the elevator doors. All except for the two boys, who were nowhere to be seen, and their mother, who continued to sprawl blithely on the President’s priceless antique chair.
Her abrupt answer seemed to annoy Bliss. “I see.” He turned back to the bookcase and pulled a large, dusty leather tome off the shelf. Claire spent a painful second staring at his rigid back and finally tore herself away, visions of emerald eyes filled with admiration at her beauty quickly evaporating.

A Mason's mark penny

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