Tuesday, September 29, 2026
MURPHY AND THE MYSTERY OF THE OUTLAW GOLD MINE by Bradford D. Smith Trailer, Excerpt, Review & Giveaway
MURPHY AND THE MYSTERY OF THE OUTLAW GOLD MINE
by Bradford D. Smith
September 21 - October 30, 2026 Virtual Book Tour
Synopsis:
AN ALASKA WILLIWAW MYSTERY
When a beautiful day suddenly turns deadly Murphy finds himself in the middle of a perilous mystery and up against the dangerous criminal, the Black-Eyed Man and his gang.
Compelled to discover the truth and expose the criminals, Murphy leads his cousin Katrina on a risky adventure through the rain slicked streets of Juneau and Douglas and into the labyrinth of tunnels and shafts inside the abandoned and sealed Alaska Juneau gold mine.
What starts as curiosity soon becomes a dangerous struggle for survival and freedom as Murphy and Katrina face a new menace at every turn. Will Katrina’s special skills and a squad of unlikely allies be enough to tip the scale in their favor, or can nothing save them this time.
Find the answers in the pages of Murphy and the Mystery of the Outlaw Gold Mine the second book in the Alaska Williwaw Mystery series.
Murphy and the Mystery of the Outlaw Gold Mine Trailer:
Book Details:
Genre: YA/Middle-Grade Mystery
Published by: Fathom Publishing
Publication Date: September 20, 2026
Number of Pages: 270
ISBN: 978-1-954896949
Series: Alaska Williwaw Mystery Series, Book 2
Book Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads
Read an excerpt:
Chapter 1: Dangerous Den
Murphy recoiled in horror as the creature landed on his neck. He screamed when it flopped onto his face and omitted a high-pitched squeal next to his ear.
Frantically swatting the darkness in his panic, he twisted and lurched to get away, but his body was wedged in place. He dropped his phone and covered his face with one hand, flailing in the darkness with the other. To his relief, he was able to knock the beast off his head. He breathed heavily. He could hear his assailant flopping and scuffling nearby and he feared another attack. His body shivered involuntarily.
It’s just a bat . . . calm down, breathe.
Inhaling deeply, he counted to three as he drew air into his lungs, then he slowly exhaled to the count of three and repeated it. It was a technique Coach Troutman taught him in Junior wrestling class. It helped calm his panic when he was caught in a tight hold.
He wasn’t afraid of bats per se, but alone in the dark in a tight space was a whole other thing.
What if it’s a vampire bat? They don’t live in Alaska. But what if?
Tentatively running his hands over the ground in search of his phone, he still was not completely convinced the bat didn’t want to suck his blood.
Where’s my phone? Did the light go off? I hope I didn’t drop it down the . . .
At that moment the bat flapped its wings. Murphy shrunk away as a leathery appendage brushed his cheek. He listened as it gained flight. The sound grew fainter and he realized the bat had flown straight down into the chasm.
He gazed after it and noticed a faint glow of light. Pushing closer to the edge he peered over the rim. What he saw gave him hope. His cell phone was sitting upside down on a small ledge about an arm’s length away.
He dug the toes of his boots into the hard-packed earth and inched closer. Juniper branches dug into his back as protruding rocks pushed into his ribs. He stretched toward his phone. His fingers clutched at the air a few inches from it. With his free hand, he blindly searched for something to hold onto. His finger found a thick branch of the Juniper bush and he grasped it tightly.
He shoved with his feet and pulled with one hand, holding tightly to the juniper with his other. His body gained a few inches of progress so he tried for his phone again. His fingers touched it, but he couldn’t grasp it. He pushed and strained with all his might, only needing another inch.
Suddenly his brain registered a loud cracking sound, like you hear when a limb is torn from a tree. Murphy’s body suddenly jolted forward.
“No!”
The juniper branch tore loose in his hand. His body lurched again, his shoulders hung over the chasm. He was slowly slipping over the edge and there didn’t seem to be anything he could do to stop it.
His hands desperately sought purchase on the smooth rock at the top of the opening. His fingers worked feverishly at every small bump and crack, but they couldn’t find a safe purchase.
Gravity steadily pulled his body into the black void while he tried desperately to dig his toes into the hard earth.
Abruptly, he fell headfirst into the abyss. For a brief moment his boots hooked the rim but immediately slipped off. He plummeted into the unknown.
“Nooooooooooooo . . . ”
* * *
An hour earlier, Murphy and Katrina had stepped from the Mount Roberts tram at its terminus nearly two thousand feet above the historic streets of Juneau, Alaska’s capital city. With the sun high in a cloudless sky it was a rare and perfect day to launch the season.
It was fast becoming a tradition for the locals to take advantage of the first week of tram operation before the multitude of cruise ship visitors overwhelmed the tiny city and the tram itself. Many came to hike the trails, some came to photograph the spectacular scenery and wildlife, others came only to admire the astounding panorama and to enjoy a picnic lunch.
Hogan pulled hard at his leash. Murphy leaned back to slow him down but was forced into a slow jog to keep up.
“Slow down, Hoge, we just got here. We have all day.”
Hogan wanted to sniff everywhere at once. His pushed-up black nose worked feverishly as his bulging eyes darted in every direction and his white feet pranced impatiently.
Murphy pulled on the leash and raised his voice. “Hogan, calm down.”
At the mention of his name, Hogan wagged his stubby tail and circled back to lick Murphy’s hand.
“Do you smell the flowers?” Katrina called as she began skipping to keep up.
“Yeah, it’s awesome up here in the spring and the tram is always cool anytime. A bit scary, but worth it.”
“It is a pretty good adrenalin rush for six minutes. I always imagine the floor dropping away.” She adjusted her round-lensed, red-tinted sunglasses and smiled.
Murphy gulped. “Great, thanks for that thought, we still have to go down.” He had managed to slow Hogan down to a walk. They walked side by side for a moment, neither talking until he said, “I like it.”
“Like what?”
“Your hair.”
“Oh, okay, um, thanks.”
“What do you call it?”
“What?”
“The color.”
“Indigo.” Katrina’s hair was tied high in a single ponytail that seemed to erupt from the top of her head. The sun glinted off the luxurious deep blue color.
Modern Pebbles chic.
Murphy smirked.
“Can I ask you something?”
She was silent for an uncomfortable pause. “I guess.”
He smiled before asking, “Where did you find neon green hiking boots to match your neon green leggings, or was it the other way around?” He snickered and stepped away quickly.
“At least I don’t order my clothes from Outdoor Nerds are Us.”
“Mean.” He couldn’t help looking down at his tan cargo shorts, plain brown hiking boots, and navy T-shirt.
She smiled and batted her eye lashes.
He grimaced.
I should have known better.
Changing the subject, Katrina said, “Sorry your mom has the flu and couldn’t come. It was nice of her to send us anyway, but I am feeling a bit guilty. Maybe we should have stayed home and helped her out.”
Murphy was surprised it made him happy that she had referred to his home as her home. She stayed with them so often people thought they were siblings. The two of them found it easier to say they were cousins. It was basically true as their fathers were lifelong friends and the families were extremely close.
“My dad’s coming in this afternoon,” he told her. “He said he will nurse her back to health.”
“Your dad sure travels a lot.”
“What about your dad? He’s out crabbing all season.”
“Not the same, but I guess.” She stopped skipping.
Murphy glanced at her and noticed a distant look in her eyes.
They made their way to an observation deck close to the tram’s terminal. From there Murphy could see his home across Gastineau Channel in Douglas, Alaska. He could see most of Douglas Island and the snowy tops of the Chilkat Mountains in the distance to the west. They enjoyed the vast and beautiful scenery in silent reverie. Even Hogan seemed taken with the amazing vista. He sat quietly beside Murphy. The pink tip of his tongue protruded from his mouth and wiggled slightly as he breathed.
They eventually tore themselves away from the spectacular view and began walking. They passed a gaggle of first graders coming down the path. They were all holding onto a rope and were led by a harried Mrs. Harper. Murphy knew she was new to the Grade School, and this may have been her first field trip. Mr. Able, Murphy’s friend Mikey’s dad, was at the tail end of the rope. Daisey, Mikey’s little sister, was second from the end. As they passed Murphy waved at Daisey and smiled at Mr. Able who rolled his eyes and slumped his shoulders. Mr. Able was a building inspector during the day and he coached a men’s boxing club after work. From his gestures, it was apparent he’d met his match with a half dozen six-year-olds.
They passed the gift shop, the theater, and the bar and grill. The tram had delivered them approximately halfway up the nearly four-thousand-foot-high mountain.
They stopped to read the large sign mapping the hiking trail routes. Mount Roberts has a number of trails from easy to difficult. They chose a moderate three-mile trek that would take them through spruce forests, boulder-strewn alpine pastures, moss-covered rock glaciers and ending at a small glacier-fed lake in a picturesque mountain valley. They would wind their way back by a different route, one that followed the bubbly brook that drained from the lake.
After choosing their route, they set out. Strolling leisurely they following the wide gravel pathway through an alpine meadow. Small streams and waterfalls dotted the landscape. Murphy had a permanent smile plastered on his face.
Hogan stopped suddenly, woofed and stood erect. “What is it, boy?” Murphy reached down and scratched his ears.
A blur of red fur exploded across the trail a few feet in front of them. Hogan bolted, jerking Murphy from his feet and ripping the leash from his grasp. Murphy landed on his shoulder and his face at the side of the path but immediately sprang to his feet and brushed himself off. His cheeks exploded with a red bloom in his anger and embarrassment. He glanced about frantically and was just in time to see Hogan’s bouncing rear end and stubby tail disappear around a tall rock outcropping in the middle of a nearby meadow.
“Hogan, come.” Murphy called but Hogan didn’t come. Murphy repeated his command again and again but there was no Hogan.
“Wow.” Katrina appeared to be in awe and somewhat amused by the madcap spectacle she had just witnessed. She repeated herself. “Wow!”
As Murphy inspected a small cut on his knee, she plucked a chunk of fuzzy green moss from his hair.
He glanced at her and said, “Don’t start.”
“I know not of what you speak, oh graceful one.” She smiled demurely and took a step back.
“Very funny,” he sneered. “Just help me find the jerk.”
“I thought he always did what he was told,” she questioned. “Like, come when he’s called.”
“He usually does, but maybe he can’t hear me. Wait here. I’ll go get him.”
He didn’t look back and began jogging toward the stone obelisk where he had last seen Hogan’s white rear end disappear from sight.
He ran across a grassy meadow strewn with boulders and crumbling spires of decaying rock. At first, he tried not to step on the wildflowers, but there were too many and he cringed as he trampled through a patch of mountain crocus. The meadows were covered in a vibrant blanket that represented a kaleidoscope of color.
Murphy rounded the outcropping where Hogan had disappeared and was immediately confused. Stretched before him was a small sloping valley covered in nothing but moss-covered rocks and a vibrant carpet of flowers. There was absolutely nothing for a dog of Hogan’s size to hide behind.
“Hogan! Come, boy! Come now.” He called repeatedly but still there was no response. Murphy wandered the tiny valley calling Hogan’s name. Eventually he retraced his steps and arrived back at the last place he had seen his dog.
Murphy examined the craggy monolith. It was three times the size of his dad’s big SUV and twice as high as the monkey bars at school. The surface was cracked and porous, but he didn’t see any caves or fissures big enough for a full-grown Boxer to enter. As he circled it, he ran his hands along its surface as though searching for a hidden door. Low Mountain Juniper bushes grew along the base of the north side. He lay down on his stomach and peered under the lowest branches. There he saw an overhang and a space big enough for a fox or a dog. Far back under the shelf, he saw a black hole in the ground.
Could this be the fox’s den? Did Hogan follow it down there?
He peeled off his backpack, set it against the rock and squeezed his head and shoulders under the pungent branches. He inched toward the dark opening. It was a tight fit and he inched forward, struggling as the low branches dug into his back and tugged at his T-shirt. Grabbing the base of the bush he pulled while pushing with the toes of his boots. Slowly he neared the hole in the ground.
Repeatedly calling for Hogan he eventually got close to the darkened void. It was a struggle to retrieve his phone from his back pocket and turn on the light, but when he did, he was faced with a steep-sided deep opening about the size of a bicycle tire.
No way a fox went down there. How would it get out?
There was another recess on the other side of the hole. It was a wide crack in the rock that immediately turned a corner that he couldn’t see around, but he spotted a small tuft of reddish fur caught in a tiny crevasse where the opening disappeared around the corner. Both openings were small, but he realized Hogan could have fit in either.
Did he follow the fox? Did he fall?
“Hogan!”
He yelled into the breach. Then he yelled into the cavity across from him. He held his breath and listened. Nothing.
***
Excerpt from Murphy and the Mystery of the Outlaw Gold Mine by Bradford D. Smith. Copyright 2026 by Bradford D. Smith. Reproduced with permission from Bradford D. Smith. All rights reserved.
Author Bio:
Bradford D. Smith grew up as an only child amongst a household of Huskies and Malamutes. At times, he thought they were his siblings. From the age of two, he lived in Atlin, British Columbia, a historic gold mining town nestled deep in the wilderness just south of the Yukon Border and connected to Alaska by the Juneau ice field. Brad grew up without radio or television in a time before video machines and home computers were common. Books and reading were important entertainment and in the dark, subzero winter months, they became paramount to the sound mental survival of many. Brad's mom read to him before he was born and throughout his childhood. This instilled an intense curiosity deep within him and an insatiable appetite to satisfy it. Brad read everything he could find and at a young age, he was reading books his mother enjoyed about arctic explorers, prospectors, trappers and first nations people. His latest book, a young adult mystery, Murphy and the Mystery of the Black Skull, was shaped by his own fascination with the mystery genre as a young adult. Updated to fit today's times, he leans heavily on the style of writing he himself enjoyed as a young teen. This book is sprinkled with real world places and the author's love of history is quickly exposed in this fast-paced adventure. Brad has lived and worked in many places across Alaska over the years including Juneau. He still works in Arctic Alaska seasonally and lives with his wife in central BC, Canada with their pack of dogs.
Catch Up With Bradford D. Smith:
BradfordSmithAuthor.com
Amazon Author Profile
Goodreads
BookBub
Instagram - @bradforddsmith
Facebook - @emokotz132
BlueSky - @bdsmithauthor65.bsky.social
My Review:
I really liked the cover of this book. Who doesn't like the story of a boy and his dog? Add in the search for gold and I was excited to read this. I liked Murphy and his cousin Katrina's interactions. It reminded me of my cousin and I when we talk about our dads, I did like the pacing of the story. It was a little slow for me, which I think is perfect for it's intended audience. Alaska was a great setting to read about and I actually learned some interesting facts about Alaska. Katrina was a great female character with great "skills" that helped them along the way. Even though it was not nice how she practiced her lock picking skills. The bad guys were bad! They tried to run Murphy over and their deadly tactics did not stop there. There is definitely a sense of danger and a search for the truth. Will they find the truth, or die trying? I also really liked the end and will read future books by this author. I am giving this book a 4/5. I was given a copy to review, nevertheless all opinions are my own.
Tour Participants:
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COINCIDENCE by Jon Ketzner Excerpt, Interview & Giveaway
This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Jon Ketzner will be awarding a $25 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.
On the eve of President John F. Kennedy's final trip to Dallas, an irreverent narrator from the Ether begins to reveal the hidden chain of events that history never recorded. Spanning decades and weaving together Hollywood legends, political dynasties, secret affairs, and forgotten tragedies, Coincidence imagines how seemingly unrelated lives become entangled in the most infamous assassination of the twentieth century. From Joseph P. Kennedy and Gloria Swanson to Jackie Kennedy, Mary Pinchot Meyer, and the young Lee Harvey Oswald, every choice, passion, and betrayal sends ripples through time. Behind every headline lies another story, and every story hides a secret long buried. As the strands converge on November 22, 1963, the line between fate and accident begins to blur. Rich in historical detail and provocative speculation, Coincidence asks: was it really coincidence at all?
Read an Excerpt
Jackie rarely consulted him about her clothing. Her sense of style, if not her sense of humor, was notorious.
“The pink.”
She seemed surprised. “Why the pink?”
“Texas. All those tired cowgirls raising their brat kids to be Miss America. They adore pink in Texas.”
The First Lady eyed the pink at arm’s length. She shrugged. “Okay. The pink.”
“But the hat,” POTUS said, “could you do without the hat. I hate those things.”
Jackie shook her head.
“I’ll need the hat. Without the bubble top on, my hair would be a mess.”
The president leaned back against the pillows on his rock-hard bed, supine in his boxers and the argyles Bobby had given him which bore the presidential seal. He grinned.
“Remember the times when we would drift down the Potomac, standing by the rail, the wind blowing wildly through your hair, and there on the river in the middle of the city you would sink sexily to your knees…”
“Drop dead, Mr. President.” Words Jackie would soon want back.
The door to Suite 850 opened and George Lapp entered to help The President dress. He nodded at Jackie. He had seen her naked many times and was indifferent to the marital scenario into which he had strolled. Jackie smiled curtly and sidled toward her own room to don the pink Chanel, including its matching hat.
Before she left, the President grinned and said to his valet. “I might need the back brace today, George, had a strenuous night.”
About the Author: Jon Ketzner was born in Cumberland, Maryland in the lovely Appalachian foothills. He grew up in Baltimore then graduated from Towson University with a degree in mathematics and went on to a long career as a consulting actuary. For many years, Jon and his family lived in Bryn Mawr, Pennsylvania before moving back to Cumberland in 1990.
As a recovering actuary and inspired by the Maryland Writers Association’s “Notable Authors” monthly challenges, Jon decided to try his hand at writing and give his left-brain side a rest. He cites as influences: Henry Fielding, Joseph Heller, Gregory McDonald, and Tim Dorsey.
Interview:
Where are you from?
I am from Cumberland, Md, where I live now. I was born here but moved away as a child and grew up in Baltimore. I went to high school and college...Towson University...in Baltimore. I started my career as a consulting actuary in Baltimore then after marrying my wife Marcie (also an actuary) moved to Bryn Mawr PA. After working in Philly for 15 years, we decided we wanted to live in a small town to raise our small children and moved back to Cumberland in 1990. I live here still though both of our kids and their families live, ironically, back in Philly. So, we spend much time there and at our home outside Ocean City, Md.
Tell us your latest news?
My latest news is the September 1 release of my fourth published book, a historiographic meta fiction novel centered around the assassination of President Kennedy. It is titled "Coincidence." I wrote it this past spring, mostly in Aspen and as"artist in residence" at a local independent book store " Lily Books and Cafe." The story is a semi-snarky, hopefully humorous not-too-soon tweaking of that sad day in Dallas. Unlike say Quentin Tarantino’s revenge porn changing of the basic history of events, my tale fills in some not known events from the days and years before 1963 that played a part in JFK's last bad day. The narrative is directed by an all-knowing narrator.
When and why did you begin writing?
I began writing several years ago inspired by a monthly challenge of the Maryland Writers Association. The MWA published in newspapers around the state a prompt based on the style and genre of famous Maryland authors. The challenge was to begin a story and in 100 words imitate the stylings of the selected Maryland author. Selected entries were then published in the newspapers around the state. My entries were generally selected and that was the first ink I ever received for fiction. At the urging of publisher Jim Brewster, I then expanded 16 of my 100-word prompt responses into full-blown short stories which Jim published in two anthologies: "Hillbilly Anthology," and "Where's That Bastard Owen?" I then wrote my first novel, "Bad Consequence," and now my second novel "Coincidence."
When did you first
consider yourself a writer?
I was an editor on my high school newspaper and won the literary award for a short story I wrote. So, in spite of being an actuary anda math major, I have always known I had some writing skills. In my retirement, I became a busy letter to the editor writer and have had many letters published in newspapers around the country. When it comes to fiction, I enjoy the story telling and the character interfacing...my prose is workmanlike, rather than artsy-fartsy. I fancy myself a literary Grandma Moses whose paintings were hailed for their primitiveness...my writing is unabashedly primitive.
What inspired you to write your first book?
As noted, Jim Brewster inspired me to write my first short-story anthology.
What would you like my readers to know?
I would like your readers to know that my intention in writing my fiction is to produce quick, fun reads in easily consumable eyefuls. I am glad to have published original stories before AI takes over the creative process. I did not use AI in any of my writing...my anti-AI prejudices and lack of sufficient computer skills preclude such cheating. For many of my short stories and my first novel, my basic narrative model was a strong female protagonist, cartoon villains and a happy ending. That model is overlayed somewhat on my JFK novel's fictional characters but, alas, the non-fictional characters are doomed to their non-fictional fates.
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/34506564.Jon_Ketzner
Holmes Away From Home by Samantha Larsen Interview & Giveaway
Holmes Away From Home (An Althea Adler Mystery) by Samantha Larsen
About Holmes Away From Home
Holmes Away From Home (An Althea Adler Mystery)
Historical Cozy Mystery
1st in Series
Setting - London, 1911
Publisher : Severn House
Publication date : October 6, 2026
Hardcover Print length : 240 pages
ISBN-10 : 1448322405
ISBN-13 : 978-1448322404
Digital Coming - September 16, 2026
Introducing Althea Adler, accomplished thief and daring heroine with a mysterious link to Sherlock Holmes.
A heart-racing game of wits, murder and romance is about to commence .. .
London, 1911. Althea Adler receives a mysterious postcard with just four words, ‘Holmes away from home.’ Surely her mother, notorious thief and opera star Irene Adler, is instructing her to break into Sherlock Holmes’s safe? But when she does, Althea makes a shocking discovery . . .
Still reeling from events at 221b Baker Street, Althea accepts an invitation to a party at Twickenham Towers, the ancestral home of Lord Slough, where a murder throws her into further turmoil―as does handsome fellow guest William, the Marquess of Sheffield, who has been tasked with staking out Slough by the British Government.
Althea and William form an unlikely alliance as they set about catching a killer. But can they trust each other when they both have something to hide?
An addictive new cozy mystery trilogy featuring a super smart, lively heroine, a dashing lord and a fiendishly good whodunnit, perfect for fans of Sherlock Holmes's classic mysteries, Deanna Raybourn's Veronica Speedwell Mysteries, and Netflix's The Residence.
About Samantha Larsen
Samantha writes cozy mysteries under Samantha Larsen and historical romances under Samantha Hastings. She met her husband in a turkey sandwich line. They live in Salt Lake City, Utah, where she spends most of her time reading, eating popcorn, having tea parties, and chasing her four kids. She has degrees from Brigham Young University, University of North Texas, and University of Reading (UK). She's the author of: The Last Word, The Invention of Sophie Carter, A Royal Christmas Quandary, The Girl with the Golden Eyes, Jane Austen Trivia, The Duchess Contract, Secret of the Sonnets, The Marquess and the Runaway Lady, and A Novel Disguise. Learn more at: www.SamanthaHastings.com
INTERVIEW
1. When did you first realize you wanted to be a writer?
I decided in fifth grade that I no longer wanted to be an archeologist. I wanted to be a writer like Gordon Kormon.
2. How long does it take you to write a book?
Honestly, it depends on the book. HOLMES AWAY FROM HOME was written over seven years. I finished other books, but I loved this story so much that I kept going back and working on it.
3. What is your work schedule like when you're writing?
Typically, I am a fast drafter and I complete the first draft in a couple of months. Then I work on polishing it. After it’s in a good state, I send it on to my critique readers. When I get their feedback, I do another round of editing and polishing. Then I send it to my agent. Sometimes we go through several rounds of editing before she puts it on submission to editors.
4. What would you say is your interesting writing quirk?
I like to listen to the soundtrack of Bridgerton.
5. How do books get published?
It takes longer than you’d think. The writing is just the beginning. Most of the time is spent in editing and polishing. And even when an editor accepts your manuscript, they usually have additional changes or edits. Then the manuscript goes to the copy-editor and next to the proofreader.
6. Where do you get your information or ideas for your books?
I have so many ideas! I get them from my life. From reading, museums, movies, conversations.
7. When did you write your first book and how old were you?
I was twelve when I wrote, “Beehive Basketball.”
8. What do you like to do when you're not writing?
I love to read, play tennis, and teach world literature.
9. What does your family think of your writing?
My mom buys lots of copies of my books and gives them to everyone that she knows.
10. How many books have you written? Which is your favorite?
I have now written over 30 books under Samantha Larsen and Samantha Hastings. Some are already slated for future publication. I have to admit that I don’t have a favorite. It is usually whatever book that I am currently working on. Which now is the third book in the Althea Adler series!
11. Do you have any suggestions to help me become a better writer? If so, what are they?
Good writers are good readers. Make sure that you are reading new books in the genre that you wish to publish in. You can see what editors are looking for.
12. Do you hear from your readers much?
I often hear from readers on my social media accounts. Find me on Instagram and Facebook @SamanthaHastingsAuthor.
13. Do you like to create books for adults?
I love it. I love living dozens of other lives for even a few months.
14. What do you think makes a good story?
A good story for me is one with likeable characters, plenty of kissing, a little murder, twisty mystery, and a happily-ever-after.
15. What Would you like my readers to know?
I write under Samantha Hastings for historical and contemporary romance. I write murder mysteries under samantha Larsen. Learn more on my website: www.SamanthaHastings.com
Author Links Website Instagram Facebook X BookBub
TOUR PARTICIPANTS
September 16 – Ascroft, eh? – CHARACTER INTERVIEW
September 16 – Sarcastically Yours, Jen – SPOTLIGHT
September 17 – Jody's Bookish Haven – SPOTLIGHT
September 17 – Storybook Lady – REVIEW
September 18 – Books, Ramblings, and Tea – SPOTLIGHT
September 18 – Baseball, Books, and Banter Podcast/YouTube – AUTHOR INTERVIEW
September 19 – Socrates Book Reviews – SPOTLIGHT
September 20 – Cozy Up With Kathy - REVIEW, CHARACTER GUEST POST
September 21 – Baroness Book Trove – REVIEW
September 21 – Angel's Book Nook – AUTHOR GUEST POST
September 22 – Ruff Drafts – SPOTLIGHT
September 22 – Carstairs Considers – REVIEW
September 23 – Reading Reality – REVIEW
September 23 – Sarandipity's – SPOTLIGHT
September 24 – Books1987 – SPOTLIGHT
September 24 – Salty Inspirations – SPOTLIGHT
September 25 – Boys' Mom Reads! – REVIEW
September 25 – Sapphyria's Book Reviews - SPOTLIGHT
September 26 – FUONLYKNEW – SPOTLIGHT
September 26 – Book HookUp – REVIEW
September 27 – Romance Novel Giveaways – SPOTLIGHT
September 28 – Novels Alive – REVIEW
September 29 – deal sharing aunt – AUTHOR INTERVIEW
September 29 – Escape With Dollycas IntoA Good Book – REVIEW
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Saturday, September 26, 2026
DARKNESS FALLS by James L'Etoile Excerpt, Review & Giveaway
DARKNESS FALLS
by James L'Etoile
September 7 - October 2, 2026 Virtual Book Tour
Synopsis:
A DETECTIVE NATHAN PARKER NOVEL
Not all darkness flows into the Valley of the Sun from our southern borders.
Detective Nathan Parker discovers a double murder in a Phoenix drug lab, and all the evidence points at a connection to his son, Miguel. Was his adopted son swept up in a drug rip-off and murder? Did he play a role in the distribution of illicit designer drugs in the valley? As authorities close in on Miguel, Parker discovers a border militia group rushing to control the drug flow. The Night Watch militia leaves of trail of violence in their wake and local politicians use the shadow of the scourge of drug violence to influence an upcoming election. Who stands to gain while Parker and his family are caught in the crossfire? Who will betray them?
Book Details:
Genre: Thriller / Police Procedural
Published by: Level Best Books
Publication Date: August 25, 2026
Number of Pages: 350
ISBN: 978-889203313
Series: A Detective Nathan Parker Novel
Book Links: Amazon | Kindle | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | BookBub
The Detective Nathan Parker Novel Series
 Dead DropAmazon | Goodreads | BookBub |
 Devil WithinAmazon | Goodreads | BookBub |
 Served ColdAmazon | Goodreads | BookBub |
 Sins of the FatherAmazon | Goodreads | BookBub |
Read an excerpt:
Chapter One
Sucking stale air through a respirator, John Thomas Mitchell finally found his niche. He dropped out of high school because it wasn’t his thing. The teachers said he wasn’t being challenged. Truth was, John Thomas left because he’d learned what he needed to make it on his own.
Most of the people he interacted with only knew him as the Birdman. If you wanted the best high, the Birdman was the source. He wasn’t a drug dealer; he was a connoisseur—a brand ambassador of pills.
“J.T., I got another five hundred bagged and ready,” a reedy voice said through his respirator.
John Thomas pulled the lever on his manual pressing machine, one of his own design, and twenty white, perfectly pressed pills dropped out, each embossed with his own logo—a Blackbird in flight.
“We need another thousand for the college this weekend. It’s pledge week, Cal.”
John Thomas tapped the plastic container, shaking loose the snow-colored powder residue from the sides, and monitored the loose material as it flowed onto the dimpled steel plate where it would be formed and pressed into the coveted Blackbird doses. The perfect blend of Ecstasy and opiate.
A hard knock on the trailer’s thick metal door reverberated through the old single-wide.
John Thomas and Cal exchanged a glance through drug powder dusted goggles.
“Cops?” Cal said.
John Thomas glanced at his watch. “Cops don’t knock. Must be our boy coming to pick up. He’s early. Get it would ya? I’m in the middle of setting up the next press.”
Cal scooted back from the workbench and placed the plastic-wrapped bundle of pills on the cheap folding table set up in the middle of the stripped-down trailer.
The knock at the door sounded again. This time, it came harder and rattled the heavy doorframe.
“All right, all right, I’m coming, dammit,” Cal said as he slid the two bolts that secured the door.
The moment he threw the door aside, a thundering blast echoed in the small space. Cal flew back against the far wall, a crimson blossom leaching through his t-shirt.
John Thomas fell out of his chair, and two gunmen, both dressed in black, wearing full-face respirators, stepped into the trailer. John Thomas crabbed backwards on the floor trying to distance himself from the gun-toting pair.
The closer of the two leveled a black shotgun at him.
John Thomas blanched. He looked away from the gunman. “Take it. Take what you want.” He held his hands up—submissive and cowering.
The gunman tipped his head to his partner, who stepped over Cal’s body and stuffed the bags of finished pills into a black nylon zippered duffle.
When the pills were tucked away in the duffel, the man backed away. The gunman didn’t lower the shotgun.
“You got what you came for. I won’t tell nothing,” John Thomas said. His voice thin and quivering.
Over his pounding heartbeat, John Thomas heard the gunman’s reply.
“I know you won’t.”
A flash from the muzzle and an ear-splitting roar filled the trailer. John Thomas lay sprawled on the floor. The gunman slung the shotgun over his shoulder and stepped around what was left of John Thomas’s head and grabbed the heavy pill press, dumping the powder that hadn’t been compressed on the floor.
He backed through the door and took a last look inside before his partner tossed in a plain blue backpack. They closed the metal door and jogged to where they’d parked their dark blue Ford F-150 pickup.
The pill-laden duffel went into a hardcover case. The gunman took less than a minute to strip down the pill press and remove the plates that formed the pills with their unique Blackbird signature logo. The two steel plates tucked into another hard case, and the mechanical parts of the press were tossed into a thick copse of creosote brush.
After the cases were secured in the back seat, the men got in, started the truck and backed away.
The gunman pulled his respirator off and tossed it into the back seat. His blue eyes fell on his cell phone he’d stashed on the console. He scanned it while driving on the rutted, washboard dirt road and dialed 911.
“911, what’s your emergency,” a voice sounded over the cellphone.
“Hey, I just spotted a pack of illegals busting into a trailer out near Vulture Mountain west of Wickenburg.”
“How do you know they were undocumented?”
“You can tell, and I heard gunshots.”
“What’s your name?”
The gunman hung up and handed the phone to the passenger, who slipped out the SIM card, snapped it in half and tossed the bits out the window.
“How long you figure it’ll take them to find the place?” the passenger said.
“Not long.”
The gunman pressed down on the accelerator toward Phoenix.
Chapter Two
Detective Sergeant Nathan Parker piloted his Maricopa County Sheriff’s Office SUV on the barely paved roads in the north part of the county known as Tweaker Heights. The largely undeveloped desert space wedged between Tonopah on interstate 10 and Wickenburg on the 60 was a prime location for operating a clandestine drug lab.
Parker glanced at detective Barry Johns in the passenger seat. Barry held a cellphone to his ear and held up two fingers. Two victims.
Drug ripoffs weren’t specifically listed in the fine print of the risk of doing business. There were rules. Usually, rivals understood that keeping the fragile peace meant hands off the production side of the operation. The street-level sales and distribution were another matter. In many ways, Maricopa County was the wild west, where intimidation and payoffs ruled. There was a fragile truce in the business when all sides followed the rules.
When a drug lab stiffed a supplier, bad things happened. This was not a business that cared about promises or referrals to human resources for mediation.
Barry disconnected the call. “Fire department from Buckeye station 70 responded to a report of a trailer fire south of the White Tanks. About the same time, we got the 911 call about shots fired and undocumented migrants at the location.”
“Fire and reported gunfire could mean a lab take down. If the lab was connected to any of the biker gangs up in the north county, could be reprisal coming.”
“We have a deputy on scene. Wilson. Said it looked like a pill mill. Some precursor chemicals there. Possible fentanyl set up.”
“Great,” Parker said. That would mean wearing protective gear and respirators while working the scene. And having Narcan on hand for accidental exposures.
“Did the 911 call mention the fire?” Parker asked Barry.
The big man shook his head. “No. Gunshots only.”
“But the fire department responded to a trailer fire.”
“That they did. We’ll have to find out how they got the call.” Barry pointed ahead. The red and white Buckeye fire engine near a dilapidated single-wide mobile home that looked as if it had been parked there since the Carter administration. “How you want to handle this?”
Parker mulled it over for a moment. Two dead in a drug rip-off. No neighbors to canvass, unlikely witnesses, and the fire may have consumed much of the useful evidence. “You tell me, Barry. You’re lead on this one.”
Barry Johns was a solid detective with slightly over five years in grade. Parker knew him to be smart and dogged when it came to chasing down leads. A former college football standout, Barry was looking at a pro career when his knee betrayed him, ending his athletic eligibility. He was recruited by two Black colleges for teaching positions but opted to come back home to the desert and join the Sheriff’s office. Parker knew he was capable and savvy enough to get this investigation off and running.
Barry was feeling a little disconnected after his partner, Pete Tully, retired over six months ago. Getting shot in the chest will make you rethink your priorities. While Barry and Parker worked well together, Parker sensed Barry needed a chance to take charge.
Barry glanced over. “I’d start by running down the origins of whatever chemical compounds we have in the trailer. By the looks of it, Buckeye Fire got here fast. We might have something to work with. Then the trailer itself. I want to know ownership records from the day it was dropped out here. Same with the land itself.”
Parker nodded. “Want me to run down the trailer registration and property records? I know you’ll get all geeked out over the chemical mumbo jumbo.”
Barry grinned. “Yeah, maybe.”
A cloud of red dust enveloped the SUV when Parker eased the vehicle behind the Maricopa County unit. He waited for the dust cloud to pass before he opened the door. “Let’s get the update from Wilson.”
Parker and Barry found deputy Wilson standing in front of the Fire engine, some fifty feet from the single-wide.
A pair of firefighters were pulling a hose from the doorway. Both wore full protective gear, including the air tank for the self-contained breathing apparatus.
Wilson turned as the detectives approached.
“Detectives,” the deputy said.
“What can you tell us, Wilson?” Parker said.
“Responded to the shots fired call and arrived just as the Buckeye Fire crew pulled up. Looked like the fire was small and contained mostly inside. Not much smoke. Don’t know who reported it.”
Barry nodded to the two firefighters. “They discover the bodies?”
“They did. Said it was laid out like a drug lab inside. A line of worktables down the center of it. Our two victims—one by the door and the second toward the rear.”
“Did you get a look?” Barry asked.
“I grabbed a mask and got a look from the door. Snapped a couple of photos before the fire jockeys destroyed everything.” He held his cell phone out to Barry.
“Good thinking,” Barry said as he took the phone and scrolled through the set of images. He handed the phone to Parker.
“Gonna be tough to get an ID on one of them. Most of his face is missing,” Wilson said.
“What I don’t see here is the product. Gives some credence to the idea someone took this pair down,” Barry said.
“I did find these,” Wilson handed a sealed plastic bag to Barry. Five pills lined the bottom of the bag. All white with a distinct Blackbird logo embossed on them.
“This is where Blackbird came from?” Parker said. “These pills have been all over the county, especially the colleges.”
“Blackbird has a whole upscale vibe going on with it. Users claim it’s a good safe high. I always thought the stuff came from a pristine lab somewhere in Cave Creek, or Fountain Hills,” Barry said.
“You take down Blackbird and assume their distribution, you’ve got a goldmine,” Parker said.
Parker glanced at the trailer hulk. Taking over a drug operation was one thing. But if the chemist behind the Blackbird pills was one of the two dead men inside, then there was another darker element in play here.
“You ask for the Medical Examiner?” Parker asked the deputy.
“No, sir. Watch Commander said you should make the call.”
Parker nodded. Barry picked up on the pause and reached for his cell phone. “On it.”
“Ask for Dr. White,” Parker said as Barry stepped aside to make the call.
The firefighters backed out of the trailer and shut off their hoses. The pumps on the engine whined down to a stop. A fire captain in a white helmet stepped away from the engine and unbuttoned his heavy turnout coat. Parker recognized the captain from a callout last year near the boundary of the Hummingbird Wilderness. Two bodies were found in an abandoned mining shack. His name tag read, Drucker.
“Detective, I can always count on you to keep us on our toes. Had to use all our hazmat protocols on this one with potential drug exposures and explosive materials in the place.”
“Explosives?” Parker said.
“Let me show you.” The fire captain started walking back to the trailer.
“Can’t you just tell me about it?”
“Just put on your big boy pants and come with me, detective,” Drucker said.
Barry had finished his call, and Parker gestured him over. “The captain has something to show you.”
Drucker grinned. “That’s how it’s gonna be, huh?”
“His case,” Parker said.
“What’s you got?” Barry asked once he arrived at the trailer.
The odor from the charred insulation, plastic, and rodent droppings was intense ten feet from the trailer door.
The fire captain brought up an image on a tablet device. “Check this out. Far right corner, on the floor. A ragged hole in the trailer’s thin metal skin shown in the picture.”
Parker’s eye drew to the four small cardboard boxes on the warped floorboard. The label on the containers in large red letters read, 12-gauge 00-Buckshot.
“Shotgun shells? That’s your explosive?” Parker said.
“One box cooked off a round. The fire started in the corner of the trailer—outside actually.”
Barry peered at the screen. “The fire didn’t start from inside with whatever they were cooking?”
Drucker shook his head. “Looks like someone tossed a couple road flares under the trailer chassis and ignited the scrub, trash, and some loose flooring material.”
“Safe to go in?” Barry asked.
“It is. We put an ion detection beacon inside and it’s reading no residual meth precursor chemicals, no fentanyl, but we did get a hit on other known opiates. I’d wear a M-95 mask to be safe.”
“Not much chemical residue. Doesn’t that strike you as a little off, if Blackbird was being made here? Labs are usually covered in the stuff.” Parker asked.
Barry donned an M-95 mask. “The Medical Examiner will be here in twenty minutes. Our crime scene techs should be here before then. They were finishing up a robbery call out in Carefree.”
As Parker and Barry entered, the trailer listed under their weight. As Captain Drucker explained the fire damage inside was rather minimal. The heat melted a few plastic tarps in the corner, but the bodies were untouched by the flames. Unusual if the fire was started to get rid of the evidence inside, Parker thought.
The dead man nearest the door leaned against the back wall. A pattern of gunshot wounds, eight that he could see, tore through the man’s chest and abdomen.
To the left, inside, partially under a long worktable, the second body lay sprawled on its back. The man’s face was missing, or most of it. Bone, brain tissue, and teeth were visible at a glance. Round holes behind the dead man meant he was gunned down at close range while his assailant stood over him.
Barry began shooting photos with his cell phone. While he was occupied, Parker spotted a blue backpack a few feet from the first dead man. There was something familiar in this plain blue model.
Parker took his cell phone and snapped a photo of the backpack as it lay in the blood spatter of the first victim. The backpack didn’t have spatter on it, which meant it landed thereafter the drug dealer was shot.
Turning the backpack with a glove-covered hand, Parker noticed a tag on one of the shoulder straps. He didn’t need to read it to know where it came from. It belonged to his son, Miguel.
***
Excerpt from Darkness Falls by James L'Etoile. Copyright 2026 by James L'Etoile. Reproduced with permission from James L'Etoile. All rights reserved.
Author Bio:
James L’Etoile uses his twenty-nine years behind bars as an influence in his award-winning novels, short stories, and screenplays. He is a former associate warden in a maximum-security prison, a hostage negotiator, and director of California’s state parole system. His novels have been shortlisted or awarded the Lefty, Anthony, Silver Falchion, Macavity, and the Public Safety Writers Award. Illusion of Truth, Sins of the Father, and Darkness Falls are his most recent novels. James also serves as the Executive Vice President of Mystery Writers of America.
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My Review:
This author knows the genre he writes about. I felt as though I was in the scenes with him doing his investigations with him. He has a way of writing that is so realistic that I got immersed into the story. This is book 5 in the series, but I did not feel like I needed to read the previous books. I want to read them to read more about these characters. One of the things that I got out of the story was that family in number 1. Detective Parker stands behind his son and still does his job. This is a great book for people that enjoy the television show Law & Order. Fentanyl, ICE, a pregnant wife, corrupt politicians, and a militia are a few reasons why this book is so fast paced. This author is definitely going on my tbr pile. I can not wait to see what other crimes Detective Parker has to solve. I am giving this book a 5/5. I was given a copy, nevertheless all opinions are my own.
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