Hawk
began writing mysteries for his school newspaper. His works of fiction, historical love
stories, science fiction and mystery-thrillers are not genre-centered, but
plot-character driven, and reflect his southwest upbringing in Arkansas, Texas
and Oklahoma. Moccasin Trace, a historical
novel nominated for the prestigious Michael Shaara Award for Excellence in
Civil War Fiction and the Writers Notes Book Award, details the family
bloodlines of his serial protagonist in the Craige Ingram Mystery Series… murder and mayhem with a touch of romance. Vault of Secrets, the first book in the
Ingram series, was followed by Nymrod
Resurrection, Blood and Gold, and The Lady of Corpsewood Manor. All have
received national attention. Hawk’s
latest release in the Ingram series is due out this fall with another
mystery-thriller work out in 2014. The
Bleikovat Event, the first volume in The
Cairns of Sainctuarie science fiction series, was released in 2012.
"Without
question, Hawk is one of the most gifted and imaginative writers I have had the
pleasure to represent. His reading fans have something special to look forward
to in the Craige Ingram Mystery Series. Intrigue, murder, deception and
conspiracy--these are the things that take Hawk's main character, Navy
ex-SEAL/part-time private investigator Craige Ingram, from his South Carolina
ancestral home of Moccasin Hollow to the dirty backrooms of the nation's
capital and across Europe and the Middle East."
Barbara
Casey, President
Barbara
Casey Literary Agency
Hawk will be a featured author at Book 'Em North Carolina on February 22, 2014. We hope you'll stop by his table and chat with him about his writing.
ABOUT THE BOOK
Investigating an unlikely murder, Ex-SEAL and
part time PI Craige Ingram discovers an officially sanctioned
assassination. His investigation quickly stirs beyond the dirty backrooms
of the nation’s capital with more killings across Europe and the Middle
East. The dead woman is somehow connected to stolen artifacts from a time
before Babylon. As he probes apparently unconnected clues, he locks horns
with an enigmatic enticing secret agent with her own agenda and her own way of
doing things. Craige faces train wrecks and deadly assassins doing
business with a rich mercenary selling biotoxins, rare stamps, deadly nerve
gases, and smuggled nuclear material to the highest bidder. As Craige peels
away at the shadowy Operation Nymrod, he finds an elusive
power-hungry dead-set mind – a driven obsession with a frightful arsenal of
bioweapons ready to fulfill ancient prophecies with a very personal Armageddon
that makes the monstrous last day of the twin towers of the World Trade Center
pale in possibilities.
AN EXCERPT
On the second-floor landing I
spotted familiar faces from the department's forensic team. The smell was worse inside. With that first look I didn't need to be told
that the pulpy lump with swollen pumpkin dimples where eyes should have been
was one very bloated dead body. The
corpse was well into being recycled. It
no longer looked human. The body had
been cooking in the sweltering oven of a Dixie mid-August scorching summer in
this dreary one-flight walkup of apartments with no AC and painted-shut
windows. Near the peeling paint archway
and a worse kitchenette beyond I spotted Gray huddled with just over five feet
plus, roly-poly Coroner-Medical Examiner Fred Dinkins.
"What you got?" I asked.
Gray indolently heaved a
getting-paunchier fried chicken and beer belly and idly mumbled, "We’re
not quite sure...." threw me that MacGerald we-got-trouble look. "Right now all I know for sure is, it's
no run-of-the-mill homicide."
There was more in his look than his
words. It was all over his face that
things weren't going the way he liked.
I’d known that from the moment I disconnected from his call. He wouldn't have made the call for a squabble
between drifters over street drugs or a grocery cart of scrounged throwaway
clothes. When a corpse is concealed,
long term or otherwise and left to rot, decomposition can alter forensic
evidence until it tells other stories—but not usually ones you want to
hear. Dinkins had his work cut out for
him and his crew. It’s one way perps buy
themselves time, and concealment usually means there’s considerable more that
went down. In my wildest night-stalks I
could never’ve imagined how right-on-the-money that would prove to be. Ignorance is bliss…our SEAL team learned real
quick. It can also get you killed.
Without looking up Dinkins said,
"One more pitiable devil that died alone.” Piercing blue eyes peered over
his ever-present black wire-rim glasses perched unsteadily on the end of his
nose. In low-key measured words,
"Prelim exam leads me to believe the corpse is female, but we'll wait till
we get the body to the morgue, see what the autopsy and lab tests tell us. I don’t want any second guessing the evidence.
Besides, we’re about finished up here."
The dreary apartment was busier than
it’d seen in decades with double shifts of the forensic techs bustling-sorting
the whens and hows of death. The cracker
box kitchen adjoined a corner next-to-nothing squalid dinette area furnished
with a dirty Masonite wobbly table barely big enough for two. In the front room the melon-round, no-neck
head squatted square on the bloated chest of the oozing corpse. The whole misshapen inhuman mess had sagged
into the soggy sofa.
SPECIAL LINKS
One randomly
drawn commenter will win a $20 Amazon gift card.
Follow the tour and comment; the more you comment, the better your chances of winning. The tour dates can be found here: http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2013/10/super-book-blast-nymrod-resurrection-by.html
Follow the tour and comment; the more you comment, the better your chances of winning. The tour dates can be found here: http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2013/10/super-book-blast-nymrod-resurrection-by.html
