Monday, July 22, 2019

Virtual Book Tour: Detective Madison Knight Series by Carolyn Arnold










Mystery Detective, Police Procedural, Crime, Suspense
Date Published: Between 2011-2019
Publisher: Hibbert & Stiles Publishing Inc.



Murder. Investigation. The pursuit of justice. Do you love trying to figure out whodunit? How about investigating alongside police detectives from the crime scene to the forensics lab and everywhere in between? Do you love a strong female lead? Then I invite you to meet Detective Madison Knight as she solves murders with her male partner, utilizing good old-fashioned investigative work aided by modern technology.


This is the perfect book series for fans of James Patterson, Michael Connelly, and JD Robb to name a few. This series is also bound to entertain those who enjoy Law & Order, CSI, Blue Bloods, Rizzoli & Isles, Women’s Murder Club, and Hawaii Five-O.


Read in any order or follow the series from the beginning: Ties That Bind, Justified, Sacrifice, Found Innocent, Just Cause, Deadly Impulse, In the Line of Duty, Power Struggle, Shades of Justice, Life Sentence (Bonus Prequel).


Excerpt from Chapter 1 of Just Cause (Detective Madison Knight series)

THE BULLET MEANT FOR HER head ricocheted off a stair. The thunderous ping of metal against metal rang in Madison’s ears, reassuring her, along with the shooting pain in her legs, that she was still alive. But alive for how long was the question.

When the guns had fired, she dropped to the ground, slamming her knees onto the concrete.

She willed her eyes to open, despite the searing agony that made it easier to keep them closed, and she was forced to face reality.

Her bullet had found purchase in Sergey’s side, and he sat on one of the steps, a hand to his wound, staring at her blankly. His eyes were clouded over and distant.

She surmised he was experiencing the same euphoric feelings as she. Her heart beat adrenaline through her system, its pulse drumming in her ears.

She was alive but was she shot?

She looked down at her body and couldn’t see any blood.

Having faced a fifty/fifty chance of survival, she had come out the other end.

Anatolli pulled up on her short hair, his fingers digging into her scalp. “Get up!” He thrust the barrel of a gun to her face with enough force it skewed her jaw and her teeth bit the inside of her cheek.

A warm metallic flavoring coated her tongue and she spit out blood, the pressure of the gun was unrelenting.

“Get up! Or you die!”

Her legs were unsteady and her head spun. She couldn’t go out like this. She had fought too hard for her life to end this way.

“Go to hell, you son of a bitch!” She slammed the heel of her shoe into his instep and moved to the side.

Anatolli yelped out in pain, but she heard him cock the hammer on the gun.

A revolver. Six bullets. Six opportunities to die.

The barrel was pushed against her skull.

She pinched her eyes shut and images of her life played out, interspersed with meaningless thoughts. How would Sergeant Winston spin this to the media? Would he miss her beyond their regular confrontations, for which she knew he thrived on, or would he be able to move on quickly?

Her grandmother entered her vision and spoke from beyond the grave, telling her it wasn’t her time yet.

 Anatolli applied more force behind the weapon. “You are going to die.”

“Stop!” Sergey eased himself off the step he had been perched on.

Swallowing hard, she knew the delay in killing her meant only one thing—they would make her suffer until a bullet to the head seemed like a welcome escape.

The haze cleared. Where was her gun? She had pulled the trigger and ducked out of the way to avoid the one aimed at her head. If she could find her weapon, she’d have a chance…

As Sergey inched toward her, with gritted teeth, he swore in Russian. He resembled a rushing bull setting out after a waving red cape.

Her only chance was to reach her weapon, but the odds were stacked against her. If she were to make a bet with Terry, they’d likely both wager she’d leave in a body bag.

The gun came away from her head, but she still sensed that Anatolli held it aimed at her.

She looked around, taking in the space.

She was in the warehouse of the Russians’ main business front, Homeland Logistics. Men were around when she first came in, but now all seemed silent, except for her and her two Russian opponents.

She remembered pulling the trigger and catapulting herself to the ground.

The left side of her hand tapped a pulse. She lifted it, but it fell limp, as blinding shivers of pain raced through her arm. But with the throbbing came clarity. She had banged her hand on the metal step as she fell.

She fought the urge to cradle her wrist to her chest. She had to remain strong.

Her eyes fell to the floor just beyond the staircase, where her gun lay, at least four feet away. There was no way for her to reach it before they killed her.

She lifted her arms in surrender.

“Get to your feet.” Sergey spat in her face.

Instead of humiliating her, it fueled the anger raging beneath the surface. She would see their entire operation come down—even if she did so single-handedly.

She rose to her feet, keeping her arms above her as she moved.

“Do you want me to kill her, boss?” Anatolli pushed the barrel into her lower back. “Or we could watch her flop around like a fish.”

Hvatit!”

Anatolli lowered his gun.

Sergey spoke more words in Russian and Anatolli linked her arms behind, in his hands. Pain from her left wrist made her want to vomit, but it hardly deterred the man. He adjusted his grip and pulled her back into his chest.

“You are going to pay.” Spittle from his mouth sprayed her cheek in a fine mist.

Anatolli pushed her up the stairs while Sergey led the way and struggled with each step.

They went into a large office, the size of the chief’s, but, unlike his, they didn’t accessorize to impress. Their focus was on necessity and usability.

The floor was a dark hardwood and contrasted with the lighter oak of the executive desk that stood at the one end. A flat-screen monitor sat on its top, to the right, and a desk calendar was in the middle. There were hand-written scribbles all over its surface in a variety of colors.

Next to the desk, numerous filing cabinets lined the wall. The room was devoid of artwork, except for a framed map of the world on the wall behind the desk and three clocks, set to different time zones, on the facing wall.

What had Madison’s real attention was the doorway that came off the back of the room. This is where they were taking her.

Anatolli shoved her into the darkness and she momentarily lost her footing.

“Sit!” he barked.

At the same time, Sergey switched on a light. Its brightness momentarily blinded her as Anatolli pushed her toward a chair in the middle of the room. Chains were attached to the arms and legs of it, and there was a collar that would secure around their victim’s neck while they worked out their sadistic pleasure on them. The floor was concrete and stained with splotches of dark crimson.

Blood.

More bile rose from her throat and mingled with the copper taste in her mouth.

Madison felt this sensation at a murder scene, and she felt it here, too. Lost souls cried out to her. Her mortality knew, beyond the sight before her, that lives had been brought to an end in this room, and that this particular road to hell had been paved with pain.

Anatolli thrust her into the chair.

“You’re never going to get away with this.”

Both Russians laughed.

“You are nothing special. Besides we have waited way too long.” Sergey gestured for Anatolli to continue.

Anatolli secured her wrists, but when he bent to tie the shackles at her feet, she instinctively lifted her leg, connecting her knee with the cartilage of his nose.

“Bitch!”

His hand swiped across her face and torqued her neck to the side. She wanted to fight back, but her eyes faded to black.


About the Author


CAROLYN ARNOLD is an international bestselling and award-winning author, as well as a speaker, teacher, and inspirational mentor. She has four continuing fiction series—Detective Madison Knight, Brandon Fisher FBI, McKinley Mysteries, and Matthew Connor Adventures—and has written nearly thirty books. Her genre diversity offers her readers everything from cozy to hard-boiled mysteries, and thrillers to action adventures.

Both her female detective and FBI profiler series have been praised by those in law enforcement as being accurate and entertaining, leading her to adopt the trademark: POLICE PROCEDURALS RESPECTED BY LAW ENFORCEMENT™.

Carolyn was born in a small town and enjoys spending time outdoors, but she also loves the lights of a big city. Grounded by her roots and lifted by her dreams, her overactive imagination insists that she tell her stories. Her intention is to touch the hearts of millions with her books, to entertain, inspire, and empower.

She currently lives in London, Ontario, with her husband and beagle and is a member of Crime Writers of Canada and Sisters in Crime.



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