Monthly Archives: March 2016

The Fourth Descendant, Allison Maruska

Allison Maruska The Fourth DescendantI enjoyed reading this book even though it took me a while to keep the four main characters straight through the initial couple of chapters. But Ms. Maruska does a good job of easing that difficulty as the four are very different than each other and each with flaws that keeps them real.

 Each receives a call from a historian who has discovered they are descendants of four men who buried a safe in Richmond, Virginia at the beginning of the twentieth century. Each has a key that’ll unlock the safe and reveal the secrets hidden inside.

 The story moves along after just a brief introduction to the characters until mayhem ensues and the chase is on. One of the four has an agenda of their own which becomes compounded by an interested party.

 For me the middle of the story dragged as the four characters went about their regular lives after opening the safe without much thought to why a secret had been buried and why they were selected to reveal it. Then they are off together to discover that secret. And what a secret it is.

The ending, though sad in one regard, was satisfying and left wide open for a sequel. I look forward to reading more from this author.

You can find this book here, or read about the author here.

 

Under the Nazi Heel by Scott Bury

Scott Bury Under the Nazi's HeelI’m honored to be hosting the book launch of Under the Nazi Heel by Scott Bury. The sequel to Army of Worn Soles a World War Two novel based on Scott’s father in-law’s experience as a Canadian drafted into the Soviet Red Army.

I enjoyed Army of Worn Soles and am looking forward to reading Under the Nazi Heel.  Here’s an excerpt:

As Zazulak had predicted, a German patrol stopped them on the outskirts of Ternopyl, where the road crossed a small bridge. A single soldier stood in the middle of the snow-covered road, pointing a rifle at them. Two others stood on the side of the road. One smoked a cigarette.

Zazulak reined in just short of the soldier in the road, who maintained his aim on the sleigh. The smoking soldier came up to them. His rifle remained slung over his shoulder. “Where are you going?” he asked in German. He sounded bored.

“I don’t speak German,” Zazulak said to Maurice. “Translate for me.” Maurice did, knowing Zazulak was lying. “Tell him we’re going to the market in Ternopyl.”

“Good morning, sir. We are just going to the market in Ternopyl,” said Maurice, smiling at the soldier.

The soldier frowned. “What are you going to buy?”

“Some things for our mother’s birthday,” Maurice replied. He smiled again. “We’re brothers, you see.”

The soldier looked at his fellows and frowned again. “You don’t look like brothers. Let me see your papers.”

“Give him your ID,” Maurice told Zazulak in Ukrainian, but Zazulak was already reaching into his pocket, giving Maurice a look that said “Look what you’ve gotten us into.”

Maurice handed both their German-issued ID papers to the soldier. “You’re not brothers. You don’t even have the same name!”

“We have the same mother, but different fathers,” Maurice said, smirking. He leaned closer to the soldier and pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “He’s the bastard.”

The third soldier burst into laughter. The smoker turned to him to frown, and then back to Maurice and Zazulak. “Get the hell out of here, smart aleck.” He thrust the ID papers back to Maurice and waved the solider out of the road.

Zazulak snapped the reins. As the horse passed the checkpoint, he growled “What the hell was that for?” His eyebrows were twin clouds, threatening storm.

“Just a little fun,” Maurice answered, chuckling. “In times like these, we need to have some fun once in a while.”

“Well, don’t do it when we’re on a mission again. That kind of fun could get us both arrested and killed.”

Scott Bury Author PhotoOn the contrary, Zazulak. It distracted the guards. They were thinking about our promiscuous mother and whether they might sleep with her. They weren’t wondering why two farm boys would drive to a city market in the middle of winter without anything to sell.”

“Then why did I have to be the bastard?”

“What would you have done in my place?”

Zazulak did not say anything after that, but glared at the road ahead. Maurice settled back and tried to keep from laughing aloud.

Here’s the link to Scott’s Amazon page if your interested in reading more.