Fateful Justice Book Tour & Giveaway

When Lash Brogan, an Irish immigrant and one of America’s most
popular
movie stars, is kidnapped and held hostage in the mountains of
Colorado, it will take all of his strength and determination as well
as help from a beautiful stranger to help him escape. Justine McBride
is a reclusive physical therapist trying to escape the painful
memories of her family’s death. After helping him recover, she falls
hard for Lash without considering the ramifications of such a public
relationship.

Reflections introduces you to a world where fate’s not fair,

but justice and true love are certain.

Look for future stories that continue to follow the

lives of Lash Brogan and his friends.

After barely surviving the death of the woman he was going to marry, Irish

actor Lash Brogan has accepted his first leading role in two years.

But someone doesn’t want the movie to be made. The set is plagued by
accidents and deaths. The arrival of an FBI agent with a past
connection to Lash, and the appearance of an intriguing woman he
would like to get to know better, further tilts his world.

Lash refuses to run from the danger or the painful reminders of his past.
He will stay and see the movie through to the end. No matter what the
cost to him.

Redemption continues the story of Lash Brogan and his friends. Join
them

in a world where fate’s not fair, but justice and true love are certain.

 

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The man was dressed in all black from head to toe, including the Steyr he held in his right hand,
aimed at the man across the room from him. “I told you I would come back for you, and I always
keep my promises.”
The other man did not show fear. It had been three years.
He’d thought he was safe, and now he had no where to run. He was caught. “I’ll pay you,” he
said with a smirk, though he knew the words would make no difference to the man with the gun.
The man in black laughed, but the gun didn’t waver. “You should know better than that, this isn’t
about money.”
The other man shrugged. “Can’t blame me for trying. You’ve done well for yourself, I hear.”
“You could have too, if you hadn’t betrayed me.”
It was pointless to argue. He’d known this day would come, so he looked his assassin in the eye
as the trigger was pulled. A look of pain flashed in his eyes, then he clutched his chest, blood
spurting through his fingers, as he pitched face first onto the ground.
“And cut!” A voice yelled from across the room.
“That was perfect,” Guy Sorenson said. “The blood looked great and Eric, that was one of the
best death scenes I’ve ever seen.”
Eric Sutton didn’t move.
“Eric, come on, you were brilliant,” Guy said, giving the actor a playful kick in the side. He bent
down when he didn’t get a reaction. “Eric,” he said, shaking the actor’s shoulder, then rolling him
over when he still didn’t get a response. Guy’s face paled. He looked up. “Christ, I think he’s
really dead.”
The stunt coordinator raced forward, knelt, and checked for a pulse. The set medic ran towards
them, dropping to his knees next to the actor’s body, starting CPR. The actors and crew still on
set were frozen in disbelief, the entire room eerily silent except for the exertions of the two men
trying to save a life.
The stunt coordinator sat back on his heels, his hands covered in blood, and shook his head.
“He’s gone.”
Corey Fulcher, the man in black, turned white and the gun fell from his hand. The sound of the
gun hitting the floor echoed through the now silent set. “No, that’s impossible. We did it just like
in rehearsal.” His voice had lost the strong arrogance of the character he’d been portraying and
sounded weak and pathetic even to him.
One of the security guards came forward and led Corey back a step, kicking the gun aside.
“I’m going to be sick,” Corey muttered. He stumbled forward, found a trashcan. When he was
finished, Guy handed him a towel.
“Nobody moves until the cops get here,” the guard shouted, trying to sound authoritative, but
betrayed by his shaking voice.
Corey swallowed hard and sat down shakily in a chair. “I didn’t kill him, I didn’t, didn’t mean to,
the gun wasn’t . . . it wasn’t even real. Guy,” he pleaded, “I don’t understand.”
Guy placed a hand on his shoulder. “Just relax, everything’s going to be okay.” Of course that
was a lie neither believed.
Twenty minutes later, producer Robert Colt watched as the cops interviewed his leading man,
who was pale, shaking, and sobbing openly now. It took three more hours for the cops to
interview all the prop guys and report back to him. He imagined them lined up in a row, being
called one by one.
It seemed like they had done everything right. There would be no easy answer to this one.
Especially for the press camped outside. How could he spin this to his advantage? There had to
be a way. He fought a growing sense of dread. And he knew that it would take a miracle to save
his film now, but he would find one.
One way or the other.

 

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