Author Guest Post
Top 10 Things You Want Us To Know
About Your Writing Career
By: Jack Patterson
10. My first journal entry consisted of me writing about the soccer game I had just played during recess -- a nice foreshadowing of my career as a sports journalist.
9. My first published article was three paragraphs long and came about as a result of me begging our local newspaper to let me write up my school’s junior high basketball games and have them printed as I wrote them. I was 13.
8. Many of the “breaks” in my writing career came as a result of nobody wanting to do the job. The first happened my junior year in high school when no seniors wanted to be the editor of our school paper.
7. Not long after taking the role as editor of my school newspaper, my local daily newspaper asked me if I would help them by answering phones on Friday nights during football season.
6. At age 16, my sports editor at our local paper asked me to write a sports column on Major League Baseball players from our coverage area.
5. My first published column included my predictions for the 1991 Major League Baseball season. I predicted the Atlanta Braves, which were the worst team in baseball in 1990, would make it to the World Series and lose. I was mocked and ridiculed -- until the Braves actually made it to the World Series. To be fair, I also predicted that the Braves’ actual World Series opponent, the Minnesota Twins, would finish last in their division.
4. I attended the University of Georgia to pursue a journalism degree, which was also home to my favorite columnist, Lewis Grizzard.
3. One of my other big breaks in in my writing career occurred when I was 22 and working at a daily newspaper in South Georgia. Everyone on the sports staff quit just before summer and I was the lone employee. Once the newspaper exhausted all of their interviews and offered the job to someone else, he turned it down and they gave it to me. Being No. 2 never felt so good.
2. My first (and only) major national writing award came at the expense of my alma mater, when I tracked the story of NCAA sanctions against Georgia’s football program. I owe my success to hunting down all the major sources in my piece to an insurance salesman named Don and the team’s backup quarterback who was rooming with me for the summer.
1. I have written for The New York Times, the Atlanta Constitution, the Palm Beach Post, the San Diego Tribune, the Fort Worth Star-Telegram, the San Jose Mercury-News, The Sporting News and many other newspapers and magazines -- and none of it compares to finishing a novel, something I never dreamed I would be able to do.
About The Author
After graduating from one of the best journalism schools in the country, I took a job as a sports editor in South Georgia and learned firsthand about the passion of high school sports in rural America. I thought I knew before, but I didn’t. This was another world.
I also had the opportunity to cover major sporting events like the Olympic Games, the World Series, the Super Bowl, and the Final Four. It was a thrill!
But nothing was as thrilling to me as uncovering the truth in investigative assignments. I once broke a story about a prominent southern football team’s NCAA violation -- and found out the violating coach had committed suicide only a few months earlier. The story won a national writing award and stoked my desire to write about these issues. It made me realize that the sports world was just another fantastic backdrop for drama.
After writing non-fiction books with athletes, for athletes, and ghost writing for many others, I decided to enter the world of fiction writing. It had been something I wanted to do but never found the time. So, I made the time--and am now having a blast. I hope you enjoy reading my novels as much as I enjoy writing them!
AUTHOR WEBSITE
GOODREADS
Cross The Line by Jack Patterson ~ Virtual Book Tour Page: Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tours
Book Review
Book 2: A Cal Murphy Thriller Series
Publisher: Hangman Books
Publication Date: November 25, 2012 (1st ed.) / March 12, 2013 (2nd ed.)
Format: Paperback - 256 pages / Kindle - 481 KB / Nook - 2 MB
ISBN: 1938848144
ASIN: B00AA49Y2Q
Genre: Suspense / Thriller
BUY THE BOOK: Cross The Line
AMAZON
BARNES & NOBLE
BUY THE SERIES: A Cal Murphy Thriller
Book 1: Cross Hairs
Book 2: Cross The Line
AMAZON
BARNES & NOBLE
Disclaimer: I received a copy of the book from the author / publisher in exchange for my honest review and participation in a virtual book tour event hosted by Partners In Crime Virtual Book Tours.
Book Description:
When veteran NFL quarterback Noah Larson finally guides his team to the Super Bowl, his dreams -- and life -- are dashed when his six-year-old son is kidnapped for a unique ransom: lose the game or his son dies. Seattle sportswriter Cal Murphy and photographer Kelly Mendoza get pulled into an FBI sting to help rescue Noah's son in Mexico. But when everything falls apart, Cal and Kelly are left to save themselves, save Noah's son, and save the Super Bowl.
Book Excerpt:
“Journalism will kill you, but it will keep you alive while you’re at it.”
- Horace Greeley
CHAPTER 1
NOAH LARSON WATCHED RAINDROPS cascading down the window over the kitchen sink, racing to a predictable end. Most drops would find their way to the bottom of the sill before joining others to form a small stream that spilled into a dormant flowerbed. A few lucky ones would take control of their fate, resisting the urge to be like all the others by clinging ever so tenuously to an open spot on the glass. But even they were susceptible to being washed away by a collision with just another raindrop or a blast of air. It was a depressing thought, but momentary when the reality of Noah’s life collided with it. Who had time to ponder the depths of existentialism when there was a Super Bowl to win?
In three hours, Noah was scheduled to join his teammates on a charter flight to Houston where the Seattle Seahawks would attempt to bring home the city’s first Lombardi Trophy. And it was going to happen—he just knew it. Nothing could stop destiny. Ever since he began playing peewee football, Noah’s talents were apparent to everyone, including himself. He had boxes of personal trophies, plaques and accolades stored in unmarked containers on a shelf in his garage to prove it. The only trophy Noah wanted to show off was the smooth silver one, hoisted above his head while confetti rained down from the rafters of Gillette Stadium. That destiny was only six days away.
“Dad, did you pack my lunch?” came the question from across the kitchen. Noah snapped back to the present.
“Sure, Jake. Got it right here.” The pro quarterback handed his six-year-old son a Spiderman lunch box. “I even remembered to put your favorite Capri Sun in there, too.”
“Apple?”
“I thought you liked grape.”
“Daaaaad! You always mix up my favorite flavors. I like grape jelly but apple juice.”
“Well, we can fix that right now.”
Noah shuffled to the pantry and ripped open a six-pack of apple-flavored Capri Suns, grabbing one for Jake.
“Here you go, son. I’ll get it right next time—don’t you worry.”
“It’s OK, dad.” The first grader stuffed the bottle into the lunch box. “You know, I’m really gonna miss you this week.”
“I’m gonna miss you too, sport. But I’ll see you on Friday. You and mom are flying down and we’ll do something fun when I’m not busy.”
“I can’t wait! Can we go see the Dynamo’s stadium while we’re down there?”
“The Dynamo? Son, I’m playing in the Super Bowl on Sunday and you want to go see an empty soccer stadium?”
“Aww, dad. Soccer is cool, too. Maybe if you win, the Seahawks can have a parade just like the Sounders did when they won the MLS Cup.”
Noah tried not to let his son’s remark bother him. Jake loved soccer and preferred using his dad’s celebrity status to rub shoulders with the city’s star soccer players rather than visit the NFL locker room. What gnawed at Noah the most was the fact that Seattle threw a parade befitting of royalty when the city’s pro soccer team won the championship the previous fall. The cash-strapped city never dreamed another title might come so soon. But if the Seahawks won, forget budget restraints. Seattle would have a Super Bowl champion and it would celebrate.
Noah knew the city would go into debt in six days to throw a matching parade. He cared less about competing with the city’s other pro sports teams but more about the overall sense of despair hovering over Seahawk fans’ mentality. Doom and gloom held season tickets for the Seahawks—all 67,000 of them. Noah would change all that, maybe even turn his son into a die-hard football fan in the process.
“Don’t worry, son. You can ride with me in the parade next week after we come back home with a trophy.”
“Go, Seahawks! Beat the Dolphins!” Jake pumped his fist in the air and without reservation, sprinted across the kitchen to give his dad a high-five. They both laughed. Noah picked his son up and spun him around once. They shared a hug that ended with a tight squeeze.
“Don’t forget your rain coat, buddy. It looks like you’re going to need it.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Better hurry before you miss your bus.”
“Dad, you’re beginning to sound like mom.”
On cue, Ellen Larson wobbled down the stairs, trying to stay upright in her four-inch stiletto heels. Her naturally blonde hair clung smoothly to her head as her usually flowing locks were twisted into a tight bun and held in place with a diamond-studded hair stick. She wore the shimmering red dress well, which outlined the contours of her curvaceous figure. The silk shawl draped over her shoulders toned down the image of a woman that would put most men’s head on a swivel.
Noah drew out a long whistle and shook his head in delight as he watched his wife of eight years come down the staircase. Who cared if she wasn’t the most graceful woman at the moment? Noah certainly didn’t. And neither did Jake.
“Jake, don’t think you’re going to school without giving mommy a kiss.”
Jake didn’t wait for his mother to make it to the front door. He liked being the first kid to arrive at the bus stop and wasn’t going to let the obligatory kiss from his mom prevent him from achieving his daily goal.
“I love you, Mommy,” Jake planted a wet kiss on her cheek
“I’ll pick you up from school today and then we’ll go shopping. We need to get some warm clothes for our trip.”
“OK, Mom. See you then.”
Ellen went to plant a kiss on Jake’s cheek, but he dodged and resisted. If there was one thing that was sure to get a first-grade boy laughed at, it was having bright red lipstick on your cheek. Instead of getting her way, Ellen withdrew and blew a kiss. Jake’s face lit up with a toothy grin as he put on his raincoat, grabbed his book bag, and ran toward the door.
The large number of students living in the Larsons’ neighborhood who attended Westminster Prep necessitated a school bus. Jake’s walk to the bus stop for the city’s most prestigious prep school was less than a block. Noah and Ellen had no reservations about letting their son walk alone to the corner of this quiet, tree-lined street. Even on a day that registered as extra blustery and rainy by Seattle’s sopping wet standards.
Noah watched Jake pull the door shut and hustle down the steps. Once Jake reached the sidewalk, Noah could see Jake tossing his Sounders soccer ball in the air as he skipped toward the bus stop. Noah craned his neck to watch Jake until he disappeared from his field of view. Noah smiled and shook his head, proud of his little guy.
“Don’t you look nice,” Noah spun around and turned his gaze toward Ellen.
“Thanks, honey. I am going to miss you. I can’t wait for Sunday to get here and this season to be over with. It’s so much better when you lose and don’t make the playoffs.” Noah moved closer to Ellen. He put his hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eyes. “I don’t know how to respond to that. Wouldn’t you rather be married to a Super Bowl champion quarterback to impress all your socialite friends?”
“I don’t care about that—I just want you to be done with football so we can enjoy life together again. This football stuff just gets in the way all the time.”
“Well, we’ll see.”
Ellen suddenly grabbed Noah’s arms.
“Seriously? Are you going to retire from football?”
“Well, I’ve been playing football for a long time, living up to a lot of people’s expectations and doing what everyone else thinks I should do. I’m kind of tired of it. Besides, what better way to go out than on top and be the king of this city?”
Ellen began shaking Noah, giddy with excitement. She was careful not to jump up and down in her unstable shoes.
“I can’t believe this!”
“I was hoping you would react like this. Honestly, I’d like for this to be the last game I play and go out with a Super Bowl win. It’s time.”
Ellen smiled.
“You’re not just going to win,” she said, poking Noah in the chest, “you’re going to destroy the Dolphins!”
She turned and headed back upstairs to finish primping for her shopping outing. Noah watched her put her fist in the air and mumble something about “no more football.” He knew retiring would make her happy—and it was time to make it official.
Noah glanced at his packed bags by the door. He then walked back to the kitchen and resumed raindrop watching. Noah stared out the window, grappling with the fact that he had uttered aloud the thought that had been tormenting him for the past six months: Did he have the nerve to walk away from the game that had consumed his entire life? But there was no going back now. Ellen had likely already committed to memory their entre conversation, word for word. And Noah knew she would make sure he kept his word. It was one of the things he liked best about being married to Ellen. It was also one of the worst.
***
Carlos Rivera nursed the cup of coffee in his right hand. It wasn’t cold yet but it was getting there quickly. Another minute or two and it would be undrinkable. Not that he minded. He thought the claim that Seattle was home to the best coffee in the United States was a chiste. It had been a week since he arrived in Seattle, and this was the fifth different brand of coffee he had tried. He remained unimpressed. However, he knew next month Seattle would be invaded by Buenisimo!, the best coffee south of the border. It would make his return trip more palatable.
Yet a chance to sample Seattle’s famous coffee was hardly the reason Rivera found himself far away from his family. Not that he had a choice. When Mr. Hernandez said, “Go to Seattle,” he went. No questions, no protests. Yet this job made Rivera sick. He told himself he was a professional and he could do this. It’s what he told himself every time that Mr. Hernandez required him to do something distasteful. Rivera hated dipping a rival gang member’s hand in acid. Neither did he care for shooting a man’s beloved dog just to make a point. But this assignment? This one was exceptionally cruel. It was so monstrous in its nature that Rivera wondered if Mr. Hernandez even had a conscience anymore—or a heart. Of course, Rivera could refuse. But he loved his family too much. He preferred ever so slightly this sordid existence over death, even if it was a half-step above. Choosing one over the other was about a 50-50 proposition. Rivera chose to live.
Rivera shook his partner, Juan Morales, who had just dozed off in the passenger’s seat. “It’s time. Wake up.”
Morales rubbed his face and looked through the rain-speckled windshield at their target meandering down the sidewalk. The pulsing wipers swept away a handful of raindrops, gliding across the glass creating a clean space for more raindrops to gather.
“That’s him,” Rivera said.
He eased the car forward and stopped about 10 feet past the target.
With great precision and efficiency, Morales jumped out of the car and grabbed the confused boy. Jake resisted his abductor yet was only able to make one muted call for help. Rivera secured the boy’s arms and mouth; Morales snatched his legs. The boy squirmed and tried to kick free, but in less than two seconds, he was in the backseat of the Town Car wedged between the seat and Morales’ left knee. It was a fight the boy had no chance of winning. His muffled cries went unheard.
Morales grinned and patted Rivera on the back as they pulled away from the curb and headed down the street.
“We got him!” Morales said.
Rivera said nothing. He adjusted the mirror so he could only see Morales. Seeing the terror in the boy’s eyes as Morales was wrangling him in the street was too intensely personal for Rivera. With a six-year-old son of his own, Rivera could hardly stomach this task. But he couldn’t let this get personal. This was business, a business he had to conduct professionally and efficiently or his own family might end up victims of Mr. Hernandez. Morales couldn’t stop grinning as he basked in his moment of triumph, albeit a sick one—a 28-year-old man overpowering a six-year-old boy 180 pounds his junior. He looked down at his catch, brooding over him with a gruff voice.
“Hola, Jakie boy.”
CHAPTER 1
NOAH LARSON WATCHED RAINDROPS cascading down the window over the kitchen sink, racing to a predictable end. Most drops would find their way to the bottom of the sill before joining others to form a small stream that spilled into a dormant flowerbed. A few lucky ones would take control of their fate, resisting the urge to be like all the others by clinging ever so tenuously to an open spot on the glass. But even they were susceptible to being washed away by a collision with just another raindrop or a blast of air. It was a depressing thought, but momentary when the reality of Noah’s life collided with it. Who had time to ponder the depths of existentialism when there was a Super Bowl to win?
In three hours, Noah was scheduled to join his teammates on a charter flight to Houston where the Seattle Seahawks would attempt to bring home the city’s first Lombardi Trophy. And it was going to happen—he just knew it. Nothing could stop destiny. Ever since he began playing peewee football, Noah’s talents were apparent to everyone, including himself. He had boxes of personal trophies, plaques and accolades stored in unmarked containers on a shelf in his garage to prove it. The only trophy Noah wanted to show off was the smooth silver one, hoisted above his head while confetti rained down from the rafters of Gillette Stadium. That destiny was only six days away.
“Dad, did you pack my lunch?” came the question from across the kitchen. Noah snapped back to the present.
“Sure, Jake. Got it right here.” The pro quarterback handed his six-year-old son a Spiderman lunch box. “I even remembered to put your favorite Capri Sun in there, too.”
“Apple?”
“I thought you liked grape.”
“Daaaaad! You always mix up my favorite flavors. I like grape jelly but apple juice.”
“Well, we can fix that right now.”
Noah shuffled to the pantry and ripped open a six-pack of apple-flavored Capri Suns, grabbing one for Jake.
“Here you go, son. I’ll get it right next time—don’t you worry.”
“It’s OK, dad.” The first grader stuffed the bottle into the lunch box. “You know, I’m really gonna miss you this week.”
“I’m gonna miss you too, sport. But I’ll see you on Friday. You and mom are flying down and we’ll do something fun when I’m not busy.”
“I can’t wait! Can we go see the Dynamo’s stadium while we’re down there?”
“The Dynamo? Son, I’m playing in the Super Bowl on Sunday and you want to go see an empty soccer stadium?”
“Aww, dad. Soccer is cool, too. Maybe if you win, the Seahawks can have a parade just like the Sounders did when they won the MLS Cup.”
Noah tried not to let his son’s remark bother him. Jake loved soccer and preferred using his dad’s celebrity status to rub shoulders with the city’s star soccer players rather than visit the NFL locker room. What gnawed at Noah the most was the fact that Seattle threw a parade befitting of royalty when the city’s pro soccer team won the championship the previous fall. The cash-strapped city never dreamed another title might come so soon. But if the Seahawks won, forget budget restraints. Seattle would have a Super Bowl champion and it would celebrate.
Noah knew the city would go into debt in six days to throw a matching parade. He cared less about competing with the city’s other pro sports teams but more about the overall sense of despair hovering over Seahawk fans’ mentality. Doom and gloom held season tickets for the Seahawks—all 67,000 of them. Noah would change all that, maybe even turn his son into a die-hard football fan in the process.
“Don’t worry, son. You can ride with me in the parade next week after we come back home with a trophy.”
“Go, Seahawks! Beat the Dolphins!” Jake pumped his fist in the air and without reservation, sprinted across the kitchen to give his dad a high-five. They both laughed. Noah picked his son up and spun him around once. They shared a hug that ended with a tight squeeze.
“Don’t forget your rain coat, buddy. It looks like you’re going to need it.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Better hurry before you miss your bus.”
“Dad, you’re beginning to sound like mom.”
On cue, Ellen Larson wobbled down the stairs, trying to stay upright in her four-inch stiletto heels. Her naturally blonde hair clung smoothly to her head as her usually flowing locks were twisted into a tight bun and held in place with a diamond-studded hair stick. She wore the shimmering red dress well, which outlined the contours of her curvaceous figure. The silk shawl draped over her shoulders toned down the image of a woman that would put most men’s head on a swivel.
Noah drew out a long whistle and shook his head in delight as he watched his wife of eight years come down the staircase. Who cared if she wasn’t the most graceful woman at the moment? Noah certainly didn’t. And neither did Jake.
“Jake, don’t think you’re going to school without giving mommy a kiss.”
Jake didn’t wait for his mother to make it to the front door. He liked being the first kid to arrive at the bus stop and wasn’t going to let the obligatory kiss from his mom prevent him from achieving his daily goal.
“I love you, Mommy,” Jake planted a wet kiss on her cheek
“I’ll pick you up from school today and then we’ll go shopping. We need to get some warm clothes for our trip.”
“OK, Mom. See you then.”
Ellen went to plant a kiss on Jake’s cheek, but he dodged and resisted. If there was one thing that was sure to get a first-grade boy laughed at, it was having bright red lipstick on your cheek. Instead of getting her way, Ellen withdrew and blew a kiss. Jake’s face lit up with a toothy grin as he put on his raincoat, grabbed his book bag, and ran toward the door.
The large number of students living in the Larsons’ neighborhood who attended Westminster Prep necessitated a school bus. Jake’s walk to the bus stop for the city’s most prestigious prep school was less than a block. Noah and Ellen had no reservations about letting their son walk alone to the corner of this quiet, tree-lined street. Even on a day that registered as extra blustery and rainy by Seattle’s sopping wet standards.
Noah watched Jake pull the door shut and hustle down the steps. Once Jake reached the sidewalk, Noah could see Jake tossing his Sounders soccer ball in the air as he skipped toward the bus stop. Noah craned his neck to watch Jake until he disappeared from his field of view. Noah smiled and shook his head, proud of his little guy.
“Don’t you look nice,” Noah spun around and turned his gaze toward Ellen.
“Thanks, honey. I am going to miss you. I can’t wait for Sunday to get here and this season to be over with. It’s so much better when you lose and don’t make the playoffs.” Noah moved closer to Ellen. He put his hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eyes. “I don’t know how to respond to that. Wouldn’t you rather be married to a Super Bowl champion quarterback to impress all your socialite friends?”
“I don’t care about that—I just want you to be done with football so we can enjoy life together again. This football stuff just gets in the way all the time.”
“Well, we’ll see.”
Ellen suddenly grabbed Noah’s arms.
“Seriously? Are you going to retire from football?”
“Well, I’ve been playing football for a long time, living up to a lot of people’s expectations and doing what everyone else thinks I should do. I’m kind of tired of it. Besides, what better way to go out than on top and be the king of this city?”
Ellen began shaking Noah, giddy with excitement. She was careful not to jump up and down in her unstable shoes.
“I can’t believe this!”
“I was hoping you would react like this. Honestly, I’d like for this to be the last game I play and go out with a Super Bowl win. It’s time.”
Ellen smiled.
“You’re not just going to win,” she said, poking Noah in the chest, “you’re going to destroy the Dolphins!”
She turned and headed back upstairs to finish primping for her shopping outing. Noah watched her put her fist in the air and mumble something about “no more football.” He knew retiring would make her happy—and it was time to make it official.
Noah glanced at his packed bags by the door. He then walked back to the kitchen and resumed raindrop watching. Noah stared out the window, grappling with the fact that he had uttered aloud the thought that had been tormenting him for the past six months: Did he have the nerve to walk away from the game that had consumed his entire life? But there was no going back now. Ellen had likely already committed to memory their entre conversation, word for word. And Noah knew she would make sure he kept his word. It was one of the things he liked best about being married to Ellen. It was also one of the worst.
***
Carlos Rivera nursed the cup of coffee in his right hand. It wasn’t cold yet but it was getting there quickly. Another minute or two and it would be undrinkable. Not that he minded. He thought the claim that Seattle was home to the best coffee in the United States was a chiste. It had been a week since he arrived in Seattle, and this was the fifth different brand of coffee he had tried. He remained unimpressed. However, he knew next month Seattle would be invaded by Buenisimo!, the best coffee south of the border. It would make his return trip more palatable.
Yet a chance to sample Seattle’s famous coffee was hardly the reason Rivera found himself far away from his family. Not that he had a choice. When Mr. Hernandez said, “Go to Seattle,” he went. No questions, no protests. Yet this job made Rivera sick. He told himself he was a professional and he could do this. It’s what he told himself every time that Mr. Hernandez required him to do something distasteful. Rivera hated dipping a rival gang member’s hand in acid. Neither did he care for shooting a man’s beloved dog just to make a point. But this assignment? This one was exceptionally cruel. It was so monstrous in its nature that Rivera wondered if Mr. Hernandez even had a conscience anymore—or a heart. Of course, Rivera could refuse. But he loved his family too much. He preferred ever so slightly this sordid existence over death, even if it was a half-step above. Choosing one over the other was about a 50-50 proposition. Rivera chose to live.
Rivera shook his partner, Juan Morales, who had just dozed off in the passenger’s seat. “It’s time. Wake up.”
Morales rubbed his face and looked through the rain-speckled windshield at their target meandering down the sidewalk. The pulsing wipers swept away a handful of raindrops, gliding across the glass creating a clean space for more raindrops to gather.
“That’s him,” Rivera said.
He eased the car forward and stopped about 10 feet past the target.
With great precision and efficiency, Morales jumped out of the car and grabbed the confused boy. Jake resisted his abductor yet was only able to make one muted call for help. Rivera secured the boy’s arms and mouth; Morales snatched his legs. The boy squirmed and tried to kick free, but in less than two seconds, he was in the backseat of the Town Car wedged between the seat and Morales’ left knee. It was a fight the boy had no chance of winning. His muffled cries went unheard.
Morales grinned and patted Rivera on the back as they pulled away from the curb and headed down the street.
“We got him!” Morales said.
Rivera said nothing. He adjusted the mirror so he could only see Morales. Seeing the terror in the boy’s eyes as Morales was wrangling him in the street was too intensely personal for Rivera. With a six-year-old son of his own, Rivera could hardly stomach this task. But he couldn’t let this get personal. This was business, a business he had to conduct professionally and efficiently or his own family might end up victims of Mr. Hernandez. Morales couldn’t stop grinning as he basked in his moment of triumph, albeit a sick one—a 28-year-old man overpowering a six-year-old boy 180 pounds his junior. He looked down at his catch, brooding over him with a gruff voice.
“Hola, Jakie boy.”
My Book Review:
Veteran NFL Seattle Seahawks Quarterback Noah Larson is finally getting a chance to play in the Super Bowl against the Miami Dolphins after ten years in the league. After the Superbowl, Noah will be retiring to spend time with his wife Ellen and six year old son Jake, he hopes to retire as a Super Bowl champion quarterback. But his hopes are dashed when he receives a call that Jake has been kidnapped on his way to the school bus stop, and is being held by a drug cartel in Mexico. The ransom demand is steep: throw the biggest game of his career or Jake will be killed.
The Seattle Times sportswriter Cal Murphy has covered the Seattle Seahawks for years. While watching the team practice for the Super Bowl, he notices that Quarterback Noah Larson isn't prepping for the game like he usually does ... something is wrong and he's going to find out. When Cal learns about the abduction, he and photographer friend Kelly Mendoza go undercover in Mexico for the FBI, to help rescue Jake and save the Super Bowl, only to have their plans go awry and suddenly they find themselves in the middle of a dangerous situation and in need of being rescued too!
In the second book of the Cal Murphy Thriller series, author Jack Patterson weaves an intriguing tale of suspense with a football twist that keeps the reader sitting on the edge of their seat guessing what will happen next. This fast-paced action packed thriller is written in the third person narrative featuring the adventures of the dynamic duo of Seattle sportswriter Cal Murphy and photographer Kelly Mendoza, as they attempt to help rescue an NFL quarterback's son from a dangerous Mexican drug cartel. With the Seahawks favored to win over the Dolphins in the Super Bowl, a father's dream of retiring as a champion quarterback is dashed when the ransom demand is for him to throw the biggest game of his ten year career. This riveting story takes the reader on an adrenaline rush of an adventure as they get drawn into the dangerous situation that awaits Cal and Kelly. With short chapters that engages the reader to continue reading; the drama, suspense, twists and turns will satisfy diehard thriller fans as the story unfolds. And if that isn't enough, adding the Super Bowl element to the storyline is a bonus that any football fan will enjoy!
Even though this is the second book in a series, it can be read as a stand alone story. But if you enjoy this one so much, go back and read the first book, Cross Hairs, for the introduction to the crazy adventures that beckons Cal Murphy and Kelly Mendoza!
With a quirky cast of characters, witty dialogue and interactions, a richly detailed and descriptive plot and settings, Cross The Line has enough drama and suspense to make this one hell of a thrilling read!
RATING: 4 STARS ****
Spectacular review and post. Thank you! Fantastic job!
ReplyDeleteHi Cheryl! Thank you for the kind comment and for the opportunity to host the virtual book tour event. :)
DeleteThanks for the kind review!
ReplyDeleteHi Jack! Loved reading Cross The Line, as a football fan and thriller geek this was an awesome read that kept me entertained! :)
Delete