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Book: Protecting You
Author: Robin Patchen
Genre: Christian Romantic Suspense
Release date: February 4, 2025
In a high-stakes game of deception, two rivals must work together to bring down a ruthless terrorist.
After Alyssa’s dream of working in US intelligence is thwarted, she leaves her mundane profession to pursue a career as a cyber investigator. Though she aces every case she gets, securing enough customers to pay her rent proves challenging. When a lucrative commission comes along, she thinks she’s hit the jackpot. But this client isn’t the British entrepreneur he claims to be. And then her old nemesis interrupts their meeting with a startling move.
NSA agent Gideon Todd is floundering in his new role as a single father to a surprise daughter, but he still has a job to do. He follows a tip about a terrorist, only to be shocked when he finds his old college adversary dining with the notorious killer. Maybe there was a better way to step in than by posing as Alyssa’s fiancé, but it was the best excuse he could come up with to insert himself into their meeting.
Gideon once stole the job Alyssa coveted, and now the last thing she wants is his help. But when he explains who her client really is, she realizes she’s in way over her head. Dariush Ghazi knew exactly what he was doing when he targeted her. She’s trapped. She must go along with a dangerous scheme, pretending to help him while working with Gideon…or end up dead.
In their quest to dismantle Dariush’s network of evil, Gideon and Alyssa risk sacrificing each other—and everything they hold dear.
Prepare to dive into this gripping tale of enemies turned allies, a fake engagement, and a deadly conspiracy.
Click here to get your copy!
Robin Patchen is a USA Today bestselling and award-winning author of Christian romantic suspense. She grew up in a small town in New Hampshire, the setting of her Coventry Saga books, and then headed to Boston to earn a journalism degree. Working in marketing, she discovered how much she loathed the nine-to-five ball and chain. After relocating to the Southwest, she started writing her first novel while homeschooling her three children. The novel was dreadful, but her passion for storytelling didn’t wane. Thankfully, as her children grew, so did her writing ability. Now that her kids are adults, she has more time to play with the lives of fictional heroes and heroines, wreaking havoc and working magic to give her characters happy endings. When she’s not writing, she’s editing or reading, proving that most of her life revolves around the twenty-six letters of the alphabet.
Picture this:
You’re a cyber investigator, sitting across from a client in a Boston restaurant. It’s the first time you’ve ever met the man in person, but you’ve worked for him before. In person, he isn’t like you’d imagined he would be.
His arrogance doesn’t impress you, and he’s giving off a slightly creepy vibe, but he’s polite enough when he hires you to locate somebody for him.
It should be a simple job, right up your alley. He hands over a check, and you glance at the number. All those zeroes. This one job will keep your new business out of the red for months.
You slide the check into your purse and shake your client’s hand, still reveling in the knowledge that your business isn’t going under, not this month.
And then you hear a call from across the room. “Darling!”
You know the endearment can’t be directed at you. You’re nobody’s darling.
Still, you glance toward the too-loud patron and realize it’s Gideon, your fiercest rival.
You haven’t seen him in years, and even back when you were in college together, you’d barely been more than acquaintances.
When he was offered the CIA job you coveted, your thoughts turned altogether uncharitable toward the man who’d bested you one too many times.
Gideon must be mistaking you for someone else.
But he locks eyes with you. Wearing a wide smile, he reaches your table, leans close, and presses his lips to yours.
The kiss lights a fire that warms you to your toes. You ignore the reaction, though it takes considerable effort.
What in the world is he doing?
His whisper is so low that you barely hear him. “Trust me. Go with it.”
Trust him?
How are you supposed to trust him when you have no idea what he’s doing? Or why?
Before you can come up with a suitable response—and really, what are you supposed to say?—he stands and thrusts out his hand to your client, introducing himself as…
Your fiancé.
And then things really get interesting.
This is the scene that presented itself to me before I knew anything about Protecting You. After I wrote the first chapter, and with the help of wonderful brainstorming partners, I fleshed out the idea, turning it into a full-length novel.
This story features a single father who’s trying to figure out how to fill that role, a beautiful cyber-investigator, and a familiar enemy working to exploit the heroine and her entire family.
I’m so excited about this one. I can’t wait to hear what you think.
(And don’t worry. It’s not written in second person. Wouldn’t that be annoying for 300 pages?)
My Thoughts
Protecting You is written by Robin Patchen. I’ve read several of this authors books and readers will find themselves drawn into the story within the first few pages. While this is book five in the Wright Heroes of Maine. It can be read as a stand alone. However it seems that the characters were introduced in previous books.
Alyssa had wanted to work in US intelligence. However that didn’t work out and she finds work as a cyber investigator. She finds herself in a situation with someone who isn’t who they say they are. She finds herself pairs with her rival, NSA agent Gideon Todd. He stole her job and she’s not thrilled to be working with him.
This book has a lot of twists and turns in the story. Seeing two rivals in a fake engagement was fun to read. I loved learning about the cyber threat. The book is well written, the storyline is engaging.
Thank you to the author, publisher and Celebrate Lit for allowing me to read a copy of this book. All thoughts are my own.
Babbling Becky L’s Book Impressions, February 5
Book Reviews From an Avid Reader, February 5
Book Looks by Lisa, February 6
For Him and My Family, February 7
Pens Pages & Pulses, February 7
An Author’s Take, February 8
Debbie’s Dusty Deliberations, February 9
Texas Book-aholic, February 10
Locks, Hooks and Books, February 11
Holly’s Book Corner, February 11
Betti Mace, February 12
Truth and Grace Homeschool Academy, February 13
Happily Managing a Household of Boys, February 14
Pause for Tales, February 14
Blogging With Carol, February 15
Because I said so — and other adventures in Parenting, February 16
Stories By Gina, February 17 (Author Interview)
Mary Hake, February 17
Blossoms and Blessings, February 18
Leslie’s Library Escape, February 18
To celebrate her tour, Robin is giving away the grand prize of a $100 Amazon gift card AND a box of goodies including a print copy of Running to You, a Welcome to Nutfield coffee mug, and a few surprise goodies!!
Be sure to comment on the blog stops for extra entries into the giveaway! Click the link below to enter.
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Fledgling Homicide detective Abbey Rhodes investigates the murder of a young East Nashville pastor found dead in the bottom of his own church baptistery. Paired with Sam Tidwell, an apathetic, aging detective just biding his time until retirement, Abbey must convince her partner the obvious suspect is not the real murderer. Then, she must overcome her own deep prejudice against churches and a dark secret that anchors her to a painful past. As Abbey and Sam discover the pastor’s plans to eliminate the church’s corruptive elements and implement a new vision, they realize their list of suspects multiplies and includes church leaders whom the young pastor considered friends. The case of the Water Grave triggers painful memories and pushes Abbey to her breaking point.
Book Details:
Genre: Christian Crime/Mystery
Published by: WordCrafts Press
Publication Date: January 29, 2025
Number of Pages: 280
ISBN: 978-1962218-69-6
Series: An Abbey Rhodes Mystery, Book 1
Book Links: AMAZON | BARNES & NOBLE | GOODREADS | WORDCRAFTS PRESS
Mark Ripley rushed into the baptistery changing room, slammed the door, and locked the handle. He scanned the room for his phone.
A loud thud reverberated through the tiny room as the entire doorframe shook. Mark searched under the towels. Another thud accompanied by the sound of cracking wood. He found the phone and glanced down at his lock screen, a picture of his wife and two children. He held the phone to his face to unlock it. Before he could dial 911, the frame splintered, and the door swung open. Realizing there was nowhere to run, Mark turned and tried to talk through the situation.
The wooden club struck the right side of his head with such violence that Mark spun sideways and toppled into the open clothes rack, dragging several white baptismal robes down with him. His phone flew from his limp hand and bounced off the wall, sliding into the opposite corner of the eight-by-eight changing room. It rested beneath the small bench.
His attacker nudged him with his foot. A few moments passed, and he nudged him again. Mark moaned. He touched his right cheek and temple, the source of his pain, and felt the warmth of his own blood. The man watched as Mark pushed up on all fours. The pastor’s only thoughts were his phone and 911. Before he could move, the man swung the club again, landing a solid blow to Mark’s back. The young pastor collapsed like a pile of soaking wet towels.
Sergeant McNally’s assignment of Detective Tidwell as my mentor frustrated me to no end. A detective who, like water, took the path of least resistance.
He snapped his fingers in front of my face, “Hey Rhodes, which way?”
“Sorry, Detective. It’s just past Riverside at the bottom of the hill.”
“What did I say about formalities? Save that for the brass. Just call me Tidwell or Sam.”
“Yes, Detective.” It came out before I could catch it.
“It’s bad enough you look like a little girl; don’t act like one.”
I hate when they do that! Ironic. When I was twelve, everyone thought I was older and treated me as such. Now at twenty-four, I looked like an overdeveloped twelve-year-old.
Detective Tidwell loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. He stroked the salt and pepper beard which gave him a distinguished look and glanced down the road. He had a deep sorrow that added ten years to his appearance. I suppose we were a chronological paradox. “Church murder…that’s bad luck.”
“What do you mean?” Maybe he had a bad experience too.
“Nothing good ever comes from it,” he said.
I caught sight of the steeple and rubbed a sudden chill from my arms. I hated churches and church people.
It was a traditional small church building in the shape of an L with a one-story sanctuary connected to the two-story educational wing at the base of the L, just like so many small churches I’d seen as a kid.
When we pulled into the driveway, Detective Tidwell said, “Remember, just follow my lead. You got something to say, say it; otherwise, just observe.” As soon as he got out of the car, he straightened his tie and buttoned the first button of his suit coat. “If it’s too much, Rhodes, get some air.” He walked through the front doors and let them shut behind him.
I wanted to say, “This wasn’t my first homicide, and I’m pretty sure it won’t be my last,” but nothing came out. I stood there staring at the closed wooden double doors.
As I entered the tiny four-foot-deep foyer of the small church, my partner made the introductions, saying, “Detectives Tidwell and Rhodes.” I stared through the open double doors of the tiny foyer, fixated on the wooden cross on the far wall at the opposite end of the sanctuary. A Metro officer greeted us and printed our names and titles in the crime scene logbook.
He directed us to Officer Lee, the lead officer, who extended his hand to Detective Tidwell. Tidwell shook his hand then ducked under the crime scene tape dividing the foyer from the sanctuary. He glanced around the fifty-by-one-hundred-foot box of a room and walked down the center aisle. Officer Lee brought him up to speed.
I listened from the foyer as he recited the particulars of the crime scene from his memory and notes. He pointed to the baptistery which was situated behind a wall on the sanctuary stage and could be seen through an arched open space that began about chest high and ended two feet from the twenty-foot-high ceiling. Detective Tidwell walked across the hardwood-floored stage and stopped halfway between the pulpit and the baptistery window. He turned and listened to the rest of Officer Lee’s report. “Officers Hernandez and Smith are mapping out the crime scene and taking photos. Officer Grant has the church leaders spread out in the fellowship hall. CSI is on the way.” He pointed to the baptistery. “Our vic’s at the bottom.”
I stood frozen at the entrance of the sanctuary. My eyes locked on the wooden cross hung at the back wall of the baptistery, powerless to turn away. I stood there like an idiot, holding the crime tape in my hands. The officer behind me asked, “Hey, Rhodes, How’s the new gig?”
“Still learning where I fit in,” I muttered. “For now, I’m just the shadow.” I pointed to Detective Tidwell. “He’s the lead.”
The moment I said it, Detective Tidwell turned and said, “Hey, Rhodes, can we move on, or would you rather stay there and socialize?”
I rolled my eyes as I ducked under the tape. As I forced myself down the center aisle, I counted thirteen rows of pews. The décor was a mix of old and new. New ceiling, but old fixtures. Stained glass windows on the side walls, each depicting a scene from Jesus’s life, with a can light pointed at each one. A modest stage with drums, keyboard, guitars, and a baby grand in the opposite corner. Classic baptistery in the center behind the pulpit…a clear, acrylic pulpit. Nice.
Detective Tidwell stepped up to the fourteen-inch-tall baptistery glass set in the bottom of the window. He looked down into the water. “That’s something you don’t see every day.”
At five-six, I had to stand on my tiptoes to see over the glass window that allowed a view from the pews. I could hear the pump churning and noticed a slight movement in the water’s surface. A man’s body lay at the bottom, traces of a dark fluid seeping from the vic’s mouth and nose. The body was already releasing liquids as it decomposed. “Do we know who he is?” I asked.
“The pastor, Mark Ripley. Thirty-three-year-old white male, married, father of two.”
Detective Tidwell stared at the body. “Family been notified?”
“Not yet.” Officer Lee flipped through his notes. “According to Faith Jones, the church secretary, the pastor’s wife and kids are on their way back from St. Louis.”
“Any witnesses?” Detective Tidwell asked.
“No, but the church leaders all have theories as to his death. He was discovered when they arrived for their Tuesday morning leadership meeting.”
“How many leaders?” Detective Tidwell asked.
Officer Lee looked through his notes. “Twelve.”
“That explains all the vehicles,” I said. “Who called it in?”
“Owen Jenkins, the Men’s Ministry leader.” Lee led us out of the sanctuary to a small hallway at the side of the stage that led to the main hall of the educational building. From there we turned left to the doors of the changing rooms, one for men, and one for women. The door to the women’s side was cracked, and the frame shattered.
I scanned the room before entering. Something didn’t fit. “Why are the stairs and floor wet? The body’s been there at least a day.”
“According to Owen Jenkins, he saw the body and ran back to the church office to call 911. While he was doing that, the secretary and youth minister entered the church through the sanctuary doors. Noticing the baptistery light on, the secretary went up on the stage to turn it off. That’s when she saw the body and screamed. The youth minister took it upon himself to check the body, believing the pastor was still alive. Owen Jenkins heard the commotion, came back to the sanctuary. As soon as he noticed the youth minister in the water, he yelled for him to get out.” Officer Lee closed his notebook. “We taped it off the moment we arrived.”
“What an idiot!” Detective Tidwell snapped.
The officer smiled faintly and read another note. “The youth minister’s name is Jonathan Williams.”
Detective Tidwell pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re telling me a well-intentioned staff member compromised our crime scene?” Tidwell didn’t like complications. They took more time.
I recorded detailed notes in my book. “I’m sure prints won’t help anyway. A church this size probably doesn’t clean back here often.” Turning to Officer Lee, I asked, “Did someone take pictures anyway?” Officer Lee nodded. “What about a sketched diagram with measurements?” He nodded again. Standard procedure. These were officers of East Precinct. They were trained well.
“Officers Hernandez and Smith will get those down to Homicide as soon as they’re finished.”
“Smell that? Bleach.” I looked at the remains of the door and frame where someone had broken through. “Looks like someone tried to clean up.” After donning sanitary booties and Nitrile gloves, we entered the crime scene, doing our best to preserve the integrity of the remaining evidence. I knelt by the stairs and pointed to a seam where the vinyl flooring met the rubber treads of the steps leading up to the baptistery. “There’s blood here.”
Detective Tidwell knelt beside me. “Here too. Look in the grooves of the stairs.”
“Sloppy job. Must have been in a hurry.”
Detective Tidwell turned to Officer Lee. “Could you see if there’s a janitor’s closet somewhere? If so, look for a looped-end string mop. If so, bag it. We’ll have the lab check it for blood and prints on the handle.”
“More here,” I announced, holding out a white robe with spots of blood on the sleeve. “Do we have any Luminal so we can check the whole room?”
Detective Tidwell said, “CSI will.” He called out for Officer Smith to take photos of the blood stains.
Detective Tidwell’s phone rang. He answered it and listened. He lowered the phone from his ear and said, “CSI is pulling in now. If you don’t mind, have them spray the room and light it up.”
“Will do, Detective. Anything else?”
“If you have anyone to spare, I’d like to have them canvass the immediate neighborhood to see if anyone saw cars coming or going between their last church service and this morning.”
Detective Tidwell sighed and asked, “Now, where are those witnesses?”
***
Excerpt from Water Grave by Mitchell S. Karnes. Copyright 2025 by Mitchell S. Karnes. Reproduced with permission from Mitchell S. Karnes. All rights reserved.
MITCHELL S. KARNES is a husband, father of seven, and grandfather of ten. Mitchell uses his experience and insights as a minister, counselor, and educator to write and speak on challenging issues and concerns with an ever-growing audience. He has published six novels, three short stories, a one-act play, and numerous Bible study lessons.
Through two separate battles against Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, God has given Mitchell a new perspective on life that challenges him to create stories to entertain audiences and call them to action. Mitchell’s mission is to reach and reconcile those disillusioned with God and His church and to inspire the church to live out the love of Christ Jesus in a broken and hurting world.
My Thoughts
WATER GRAVE is written by Mitchell S. Karnes. This is the first book that I’ve read by this author. I was drawn into the story immediately. The author has written in so much detail that you can see the scenes unfolding around you.
Abbey has been deeply hurt by the church. When she’s called to investigate when a pastor is found dead at the bottom of the baptismal pool she’s haunted by her past. She’s paired with a partner that is rapidly approaching retirement age and he just focuses on closing cases. It’s Abbey’s job to point out that what first may meet the eye isn’t always the answer.
This book kept me on my toes. I loved getting to know Abbey. She had to confront some demons from her past and still investigate the crime.
Thank you to the author, publisher and Partners in Crime tours for allowing me to read a copy of this book. All thoughts are my own.
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