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     Entangled is the first book in a planned four book series featuring twenty-four year old Detective Sonya Reisler of the Nebraska State Patrol. It is a police procedural mystery that will appeal to those who like crime thrillers, romantic suspense, and YA books.  It is told in an duel third person POV that alternates between Sonya and Connor.
    After a double homicide has been committed in the small ranching community of Ashlin, Nebraska, Sonya is sent to look over the case before it is forwarded to the District Attorney. The case appears solid against the eighteen year old fugitive, Connor Evans, but Sonya has her doubts he murdered his parents and left his sister critically injured.
    After an unexpected visit by Connor, Sonya decides to stay in Ashlin and conduct her own investigation into the murders, even though doing so might mean dredging up memories from her troubled past she would rather have stay buried. As Sonya tracks down the evidence she needs, she finds the real danger may not be from getting too close to the actual killer, but getting too close to Connor.
    When the lines between what she should do and what she wants to do become blurred, Sonya puts her career at risk to prove Connor is innocent and finds their fates have now become hopelessly entangled. With time running out, Sonya and Connor learn the killer is planning to strike again, and the price needed to pay to stop him may be more than careers and freedom. It may cost them their lives.

Available At:

          Amazon Kindle
          Create Space Store (print edition)


            Connor crumpled the beer can and tossed it over his shoulder into the bed of the pickup truck on whose tailgate he was sitting. The can clattered against the growing collection of twisted aluminum which included the remains of the first beer he had drunk that night. He closed his eyes to enjoy the light buzz that was settling over him.
           “You want another one?”
            Opening his eyes he saw another can of beer being held out to him by his friend, Mike. The offer was tempting. The blue and silver glinting in the moonlight and the pull to make the buzz stronger worked on him, and if it were a Saturday night he would have accepted. But it was a school night and shimmying up the old oak to the second floor of his house to sneak back in was hard enough to do sober let alone wasted. This he knew from past experience.
            “Nah. I’m good for tonight.” He watched as Mike withdrew the beer, popped the top and began drinking. Connor looked away. God he wished it were a Saturday night.
            To take his mind off the beer he watched Brett and Josh down by the creek. They were already pretty shit faced when he arrived having contributed the most to the pile of aluminum in the back of the truck. After a few more they were completely drunk off their asses and now trying to see who could piss the farthest into the creek. Brett, trying to maximize his trajectory, was leaning too far back and fell to the ground with a thud. Josh roared with laughter and tumbled down next to Brett who also found the whole thing equally hilarious.
            Connor smirked and shook his head. Idiots, he thought even though he knew there were many times when he easily out drank and outperformed them, and this was the place to do it. The nearest house was over a mile away and there was no danger of being caught here. The only risk was of catching hell when you got home.
            The crunch and clunk let Connor know Mike finished the beer that should have been his.
            “Only two beers? Your dad ain’t got you scared with that military school crap has he?”
            Connor turned and glared at Mike even though he knew it wouldn’t register.  Mike’s stupid smile toward the sensitive topic indicated he was too hammered to even know when to shut up.
            “I’m not scared. I just gotta climb the oak tonight to get back in and want to do it without breaking my arm again.”
            Mike started laughing. “You’re right. You climbing a tree drunk is much scarier than your dad’s talk. Good thing you were wasted enough not to feel the bone come out.”  He pushed himself off of the tailgate and stumbled as his feet connected with the solid ground. He started weaving his way toward the creek while unbuckling his belt. “They piss like girls.”
            “I’m sure you’ll show them how it’s done,” Connor called after him.
            “You know it.”
            Connor looked at the inside of his right forearm as the fingers of his left hand traced the length of the scar that was only about three months old. He was so drunk that night. He didn’t remember falling and didn’t know he broke his arm until his mom started freaking out. He didn’t feel a thing as he stared at the jagged end of bone that had ruptured through his skin. But that’s the great thing about alcohol. You don’t feel anything.
            Connor’s attention broke with the static and brief chatter coming through on the Ashlin sheriff’s department two-way radio laying in the bed of Mike’s truck. Mike was taking the military school talk more seriously than he let on and lifted the two-way from his dad. They were trying to be careful, even laying off their usual antics that got them in trouble with the local authorities. He reached over and turned it off to save the batteries. They were just staying at the creek tonight. 
            This was still a risk. He had been warned. One more incident of any type and the military school talk would become more than just a scary threat. He was turning eighteen in a couple of weeks and his reprieve of being a juvenile wouldn’t protect him anymore and his dad was done dealing with it. Trouble with the law seemed to run in the family. How many times did he hear he was going to turn out like his Uncle Jake? More than he could count.
            But it was hard to stay out of trouble. He hated Ashlin, Nebraska. He hated ranching. He hated the boredom. Apart from leaving his friends and his little sister, he almost liked the idea of going to this military school. At least it would get him the hell out of here. Maybe even more, it would get him away from the expectations his dad held for him. Carrying on the family ranch was not what he wanted, and living with the growing disappointment his father showed toward him was pushing him to the breaking point.
            Connor took a deep breath, reached behind him, and opened the cooler. He took out a beer, popped it open, and chugged it down before grabbing another. It would be quite a few beers before he was really good for the night.


          The last chapter of the story mentions a song, Could It Be Any Harder by the band The Calling.  It's a great song with a lot of meaning for the two main characters.  Check it out!


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