Hi lovelies!
It gives me great pleasure today to host T.S. O’Neil and his new book, “Mexican
Hat Trick”! For other stops on his
Goddess Fish Promotions Book Tour, please click on the banner above.
Be sure to
make it to the end of this post to enter to win a $10 Amazon or Barnes &
Noble Gift Card. Also, come back daily
to interact with T.S. and to increase your chances of winning!
Thanks for
stopping by! Wishing you lots of luck in
this exciting giveaway!
Mexican
Hat Trick
by T.S.
O’Neil
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GENRE: Contemporary, Action/Adventure
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BLURB:
Mexican Hat Trick reunites Retired Sheriff’s Department Detective
turned Private Investigator, Eidetic Eddie Doyle with Former Force Recon
Marine, Michael Blackfox, in a rollicking tale of murder, counterfeiting and
kidnapping south of the border. A rogue’s gallery of new villains, including a
pathological ex-French Foreign Legionnaire, a bloodthirsty drug kingpin, and a
conniving corporate attorney, conspire to corner the counterfeit apparel
market. Mexican Hat Trick is Florida Glare—south of the border.
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EXCERPT
TWO:
It was late afternoon; at least an hour after
the last lunchtime dinner had swilled his final Tequila Anejo and well before
the restaurant began serving dinner. The owner of the traditional French
restaurant
was a good friend and fellow aficionado of
Bolivian Marching powder and high class Russian fucking machines. He offered
the location as a neutral meeting place after Chewy described his need.
A nearly new brown Ford Taurus—the kind you
rented at the airport, entered the restaurant’s lot and parked next to Chewy’s
Range Rover. A tall, dark-haired man
exited, removed a leather case from the car and walked towards the entrance.
Chewy retreated into the vestibule, backed into the lobby and nodded to the
maître d’.
“Si, Senor, this way please,” said the Maître
d'. The man led Chewy through the large ornately furnished dining room to a
curtained off alcove at its rear. He parted the red velvet curtains with a
practiced motion and pushed open the heavy wooden door. Behind it was a small
darkly paneled room that looked more like a library than a dining area.
“Bring me a bottle of Don Julio Real and two
glasses,” said Chewy. He figured a celebration might be in order. The owner of
MM had agreed “in principle” to the deal, and Chewy felt that he would honor
that commitment. If a celebration were not in order, he would just start his
Friday evening a little early. Chewy took a seat at the far end of the round
table with his back to the tapestry-covered wall. He carried a small snub nose
revolver in an ankle holster but doubted he would need it. The gringo he was
meeting was dressed more like a banker than a private detective.
The maître d’ opened the door, and the man
entered. He smiled at Chewy, flashing a perfect set of bright white teeth and
offered his hand. Chewy exhaled audibly and relaxed. He stood and took the
man’s manicured palm in his meaty fist and forcefully shook it.
He handed Chewy a small ivory colored business
card. “Eddie Doyle.”
“You got here quickly,” said Chewy.
“An important matter is deserving of the same
level of attention.”
Chewy nodded thoughtfully. “Please sit down,
I’ve ordered a bottle of excellent tequila—perhaps you will join me in a
drink?”
The man smiled again. “There is always time for
one.”
“Si, as we say down here, Uno, ninguno—which
means one is nothing,” Chewy smiled as if proud for remembering to translate
for the gringo.
The man nodded. “But first down to business.”
He reached into a tan leather portfolio and removed a document and a small
recorder. These are wiring instructions to your account. Please verify that
they are correct. Once we complete your testimony, I’ll sign this document and
fax it to the bank. You should have your money by close of business today.”
Chewy resisted the urge to smile—forcing
himself to adopt the sober expression of a witness in a murder case. “I just
want to do the right thing,” he said finally.
The man switched on the small recorder and
placed in front of Chewy. “The microphone is very sensitive. Please tell me
everything you know about who is counterfeiting Mountain Man apparel.”
Chewy sighed, unsure how to start. He hoped
that the tequila would soon be delivered so they could have started with a
toast that would perhaps lubricate his tongue. He licked his thick lips and
smiled nervously.
The man sensed Chewy’s unease and poured him a
glass of water from the pitcher on a sideboard and set it before him. Chewy
shook his head in thanks and emptied the glass. The man refilled it, and Chewy
took a short drink. He felt satiated and his initial nervousness dissipated.
Chewy spoke and did not stop until he had told
all he knew about the international criminal enterprise involving the
counterfeiting of MM apparel. And Chewy knew a lot—who was involved, where the
goods were shipped, how they passed through customs undetected and most
importantly, why no one at MM had discovered the operation.
“That’s about it,” said Chewy. “That is all I
know.” He felt relieved his testimony was over but annoyed that the tequila had
not arrived. As if on cue, the door opened, and a waiter entered caring
carrying the ornate bottle, two blue tinted glasses and a small plate
containing slices of lemon, lime and a tiny pile of salt. Chewy clasped his
hands together. “Time to celebrate!”
The waiter filled the two glasses to the very
top and retreated a few steps back from the table. Chewy reached for his glass
and downed it. He grabbed the bottle, refilled it and drank another shot.
The man, Doyle, held his glass and stared at
its content. “Salud,” he said, but his shot remained in the glass.
“What’s a matter, gringo, you don’t like
tequila?” asked Chewy.
“Sorry, my friend, I’ve got a meeting with a
very important man, and I can’t afford to have liquor on my breath.”
Chewy thought he detected something strange
about the man’s accent but forgot about that as he suddenly felt nauseous. He
thought he was going to be sick, and tried to get to his feet, but his legs
felt like they had a mind of their own. He fell back into his chair as the room
began to go in and out of focus. Chewy felt alternately dizzy and sleepy.
The man held the shot glass up to the chandelier,
“you can’t see any of the particles—it dissolved completely.
The waiter laughed. “Fast acting as well. Fucking pendejo didn’t
even have to be tricked. Puffer fish venom—very hard to get—I buy it from a
dive master in Cozumel. He’s slipping into paralysis. The waiter reached out
and slapped Chewy across the face. See, he’s numb, but fully aware. He’ll be
unable to do anything except die. It should take about four hours or so.”
“I was hoping I wouldn’t have to drink it—they
tell me the antidote is almost as bad,” said the man.
Chewy tried to speak, but his tongue felt numb.
He mumbled something unintelligible. The men ignored him and continued talking.
“Just make sure you clean everything up,” said
the man.
“No worries,” said the waiter. “I’ll dump the
body in a tub of Muriatic Acid and most of him will dissolve in a few days. We
do it all the time.”
The tall man shook his head, “The body needs to
be found, and I’m not sure that they will determine he was poisoned—forensic
science may not be the Federal Police’s strong suit.”
“I’ll choke him out after he’s unconscious,”
said the waiter.
The gringo nodded in the affirmative. “I
suppose that will do. Just make sure he has the business card on him and leave
the body where it can be found.”
Chewy struggled to breathe. He almost
surrendered to unconsciousness when the talk of his murder brought him back. He
struggled to concentrate and summon himself to action. He had been poisoned—of
that much he was certain. With what vigor he could muster, he reached down to
his ankle and felt the reassuring handle of the revolver. He withdrew it and struggled
to point it at one of the figures.
The waiter grabbed his wrist, forced it down to
the table and easily removed the revolver from Chewy’s hand. “I’m keeping the
pistol.”
“You can have the recorder as well. It just
needs some batteries,” said the man.
Chewy struggled to maintain consciousness. He
stared at the back of the waiter’s hand and recognized a small tattoo. The last
thing Chewy Mendlevich would see on this earthly plain was a small black Z
tattooed between the waiter’s thumb and forefinger.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
GUEST
POST:
What is Florida Glare and Why Should You Care?
About five years ago, I wrote a book about a casino heist on the high
seas and found out some time later that I had inadvertently written my book,
“Tampa Star, “in the literary category commonly referred to as “Florida Glare.” What the hell is Florida Glare you might
ask? It’s a subgenre that can trace its
ancestry back at least to John D. MacDonald’s hard-boiled “Salvage Consultant,”
Travis McGee—living on his yacht, The Busted Flush, at a marina in Fort
Lauderdale. Other notable Florida Glare authors are Charles Willeford, Elmore
Leonard, (both deceased), and Carl Hiaasen—just to name a few adherents to the
genre.
What makes Florida Glare a distinctly different subgenre? Well, for
starters, as hinted at by its name, Florida is always the backdrop. David Barry
describes the particular genre as “South Florida wackos—all heavily armed, all
loquacious, all barely aware of one another’s existence—blunder through petty
crime, discover themselves engaged in actual murder, and then move in
unconscious unison toward the black comedy of a violent climax.”
My particular version has Western Florida as the backdrop, specifically
the Tampa Bay area, with occasional detours to Mexico and the Caribbean, but
Barry has got the rest of it dead to rights. The prose is heavily loaded with
dark humor, usually based on the buffoonery of the various evil actors
sometimes doing horrible things in furtherance of mostly greedy endeavors.
Another attribute that defines the genre is a plethora of uniquely
bizarre characters, such as Puggy, the tree-dwelling, Frito-eating Hippie in
“Big Trouble” or Hoke Mosley, the seemingly overmatched, plodding gumshoe who
appears in several of Charles Willeford’s books or my hero, Char Blackfox, a
Seminole Indian Former Green Beret, wounded by a dead guy in Vietnam.
When Florida Glare is
transferred to film—we get such classics as Willeford’s “Miami Blues “and
Hiaasen’s “Strip Tease”—both containing bone breaking mayhem and large doses of
greed and sex. Lesser examples are films such as “Big Trouble”—which borders on
outright comedy. Another indicator of the subgenre is that rather than
intricately woven and planned intrigue, we get thugs blundering into situations
that erupt into explosive mayhem. As in “Miami Blues,” when a Hare Krishna
tries to cajole the wrong passerby out of spare change and gets killed for his
trouble, or when thugs in “Big Trouble,” stumble on a nuclear bomb in the back
of a bar frequented by a hippie who lives in a tree. Seemingly isolated acts of
mayhem—as when Fred Frenger, the antagonist in “Miami Blues,” breaks the finger
of a man in the Miami Airport, causing his untimely demise, but unknowingly
setting in motion a series of events that will ultimately result in Frenger’s
own undoing.
Cops, Ex-cops and Private Investigators normally traipse through the
narrative, trying to make sense of the carnage and occasionally, acting in time
to speed the demise of some of the villains as when Eidetic Eddie Doyle, one of
my characters, ends the criminal career of Sally Boots, an exiled Mafia Capo,
in “Tampa Star” or when Hoke Mosley finally catches up with Frenger in “Miami
Blues.”
Why should you care? Because there are a lot of laughs to be had. Some
of the dark humor is belly laugh-inducing, and that’s part of the lure of the
genre—if not the underlying theme. Of course, some authors are funnier than
others. Dave Barry writes a more comedic version of books within the genre, and
I like to think I can get the reader to chuckle on occasion. Carl Hiaasen
contribution to the genre includes the aforementioned “Strip Tease, “as well as
“Lucky You,” “Tourist Season,” “Skinny Dip” and “Bad Monkey.” They are all
solidly written sometimes amusing novels without a recurring cast of
characters. In my opinion, you have to at least smile at the absurdity of
Hiaasen’s character, Congressman David L Dilbeck, wearing Cowboy boots filled
with petroleum jelly in “Strip Tease.” The bottom line is that Florida Glare
represents a sometimes funny, but usually entertaining subgenre of books that
offer most readers a welcome distraction from humdrum reality.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
AUTHOR
BIO:
TS O’Neil graduated with Honors from Northeastern University in Boston,
Massachusetts with a Degree in Criminal Justice and graduated with High honors
from the University of Phoenix with a Master’s in Business Administration in
Technology Management. He served as a
Rifleman with the Marine Corps Reserve, an Officer in the Military Police Corps
of the United States Army, and retired from the Army of the United States (AUS)
as a Lieutenant Colonel in 2012. He is a veteran of Operation Iraqi Freedom. TS
is currently employed as a Senior Security Consultant, specializing in
Information Security. He lives in Seminole, FL with his beautiful wife,
Suzanne. He has written four books,
Tampa Star, Starfish Prime, Mudd’s Luck and Mexican Hat Trick.
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CONNECT
WITH T.S.:
Website:
Amazon Author Page:
Goodreads Author Page:
Goodreads Book Page:
Facebook:
Twitter:
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AMAZON
BUY LINK:
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GIVEAWAY
INFO:
The author will be
awarding a $10 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via Rafflecopter
during the tour.
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purchase made I may receive a small commission to help support this blog. This does not cost you anything, it just
helps pay for all those awesome giveaways on here.**
This contest is sponsored by a third party. Fabulous and
Brunette is a registered host of Goddess Fish Promotions. Prizes are given away by the sponsors and not
Fabulous and Brunette. The featured author and Goddess Fish Promotions are
solely responsible for the giveaway prize.
Thank you for the excerpt and giveaway as well.
ReplyDeleteThanks for hosting!
ReplyDeleteCongrats on the tour and thanks for the chance to win :0
ReplyDeleteThanks for sharing the excerpt :)
ReplyDeleteFinally I am back to see y'all. Thanks again for all you do and the chance at winning amazing giveaways.
ReplyDeleteI sure have been messing up this week with my visits to you. Sorry about that! I am back tonight to say thanks again for the chance at winning and have a great Friday evening.
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