Reviewers give Rich and Gone top star ratings

Screen Shot 2019-06-07 at 11.08.30 AMRecent reviewers of Rich and Gone a month after its May 29 publication date give the Red Farlow Mysteries novel 4.56 stars on Goodreads and 4.8 stars on Amazon. On Goodreads, readers left 16 ratings and penned 14 reviews, and on Amazon, customers posted 8 reviews.

Following is a selection of the reviews from both sites:

Goodreads, Cathy Geha editorial review—”I really enjoyed looking over Red’s shoulder as he begins to follow leads that are presented as he works to unravel this case. His interactions with law enforcement, newspaper reporters and all the other people that became known as he pursued one lead after another were fascinating. In movies and on TV the case is wrapped up by the end of the show but this case took a bit of time, required trips to foreign countries, involved interactions with lethal characters, mentioned intriguing cases and characters from his past and gave me true insight into what it might be like to plod rather than whisk along while trying to unearth mysteries that would lead to a resolution by the end of the book…”

Amazon customer—”A fun read. Following the mysterious [shenanigans] of Woody Cunningham, Red eventually finds his man, with a surprise ending! Try it!”

Goodreads reader—”I enjoyed every word in this book. I loved the characters and became quite attached to them. Plus, an awesome bunch of twists and turns that kept me guessing to the very surprising and awesome end. I have never read this author before but I am certainly going to keep an eye out for his work! I highly recommend this book.”

Check out W.F. Ranew’s website, wfranew.com, and his publisher’s author page, tirpub.com/wfranew

 

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Please take a look at my ongoing interview with Mark Schultz

It’s Ask The Author time! Join Frank and me as we discuss his writing and publishing journey of his new hard-boiled detective story “RICH AND GONE”. New questions and answers daily!

A beach read you’ll enjoy—Rich and Gone

RG Beachread promo copy

In Rich and Gone, who hired Red Farlow to find the $300 million Woody Cunningham swindled out of family and friends? Farlow’s client is Gloria Cunningham, wife oScreen Shot 2019-06-07 at 11.08.30 AMf the missing man. Gloria invested in Woody’s fraudulent funds and wants her money back. Does she care if Woody, or his body, is found? Excellent question. Tirgearrpublishing.com #mystery #beachreads

Free for Kindle Unlimited users.

 

 

 

Who is Halbert ‘Sho’nuff’ Dixon?

RichandGonebyWFRanew200In my new novel, Rich and Gone, Red Farlow explains how bad guy Halbert “Sho’nuff” Dixon got his nickname.

Never a bright light, Halbert himself floated through life on a river of cheap booze. He made his way in petty crime, jail, and an occasional job as a security guard, so-called. I met Halbert the first time in the early seventies and busted him on burglary charges. He broke into a country drugstore one night, cleaned out the cash register, walked out the back door to a nearby liquor store, and bought two pints of bourbon.

“I found him passed out drunk in his own piss not a hundred feet from the pharmacy. Cuffed him and took him in.”

I asked him why he broke into the store.

 “Sho’nuff, I did that?” he replied. He recited this incredulous expression to almost every question after that. I guess the nickname suited him. He even referred to himself that way.

Rich and Gone from Tirgearr Publishing.

Check out my Goodreads page and review.

Farlow’s darkest memories come back to haunt

In my novel Rich and Gone, private investigator Red Farlow confronts the darkest memories of his law enforcement days.RichandGonebyWFRanew100

“The words Green Bottom Springs brought black clouds of gloom and disgust to my mind. I didn’t want to read all about that horrible event again. But I had to. Somewhere there was a connection there between that event and Woody Cunningham. I had no idea what. A hunch, that is all. One of my perpetual hunches.”

 

Rich and Gone for Kindle: Get it at a bargain price

Rich and Gone, Red Farlow Mysteries No. 1, is available on Amazon for Kindle readers. Thing is, you can still purchase the novel for 99 cents through this Sunday, June 2.

Under the Kindle Unlimited plan, Rich and Gone is free to KU subscribers.

Over the coming days and weeks, check out this blog for more on Rich and Gone,RichandGonebyWFRanew100 the story, locations, and how it came together. You’ll also learn how Halbert “Sho’nuff” Dixon of Hahira, Ga., got his nickname.

For more about Rich and Gone, too, go to my Tirgearr Publishing page.http://tirgearrpublishing.com/authors/Ranew_WF/rich-and-gone.htm

 

As Red Farlow tracks down $300 million, he’s threatened by a bad guy from his past

Rich and Gone publishes today, but you can still purchase the Kindle version on Amazon for 99 cents through Sunday, June 2. Free to Kindle Unlimited users. 


As Red Farlow investigates Woody Cunningham’s disappearance, he’s also trying to locate $300 million stashed in money havens around the world. A daunting task for any investigator, this is Red’s biggest challenge on the case.

He confronts someone posing a bigger threat. Here’s an excerpt from the novel:

RichandGonebyWFRanew200The sun went down across the river, behind the Union-Journal building, the old railway terminal, and Beaver Street as the sky darkened into the evening.

The nighttime provided an excellent time to do some reconnoitering. I drove out on Hendricks Avenue, followed the split to San Jose Boulevard, and headed south to Mandarin. By this time, things started to cool into a chilly fall night. I proceeded past I-295, took a sharp right, and followed a road canopied in 200-year-old oak trees. I recalled my first visit to Mandarin when the narrow streets twisted and curved around the oaks. Many a drunk weaving late at night on the area’s roads never made it home. All too easily, the inebriated person rounded a curve, slammed into a stonelike trunk, and died beneath the wondrous, giant trees regarded as near sacred.

I slowed around the turns as the road approached the St. Johns River. Crawling to a near stop, I looked for and finally found Big River Road, fifty yards or so from the river. I passed it, and a half-mile down made a U-turn and drove back. A few houses stood on large lots, all situated well off the street. The abundant shrubs provided cover, and I found a parking spot for the Honda in a palmetto thicket near a large oak.

I walked down the road and checked each address until I found the number. Up the pebble driveway, the two-story house faced the river. Few lights glowed inside. I stepped into bushes when a car approached and watched it roll past. So far, so good.

The vehicle parked by a side door. The driver got out and went into the house. Now for a closer look at the over-priced SUV. I waited a few minutes until a light on the second floor came on before stepping closer to the building to examine the license plate. No need to write it down because I already knew the number, the make, model, and exact color. Just needed to confirm it. I hoped, too, to get a better look at the driver, but didn’t.

Slipping back into the shadows, I headed back down the driveway to Big River Road.

Near the Honda, a flashlight glared into my eyes. I raised my arm to shield against the light.

The voice sounded about as redneck as they get. “What the hell we got here?”

I steadied myself and kept quiet.

“Who are you, buddy?” the man asked.

Now, who could this be? The voice sounded so familiar, albeit from way back in an old memory trunk of my brain. The one marked “early seventies.”

“Now look, who the hell are you and what are you doing along here?” the man demanded.

Neighborhood patrol, I figured from what looked like a security firm patch over the left side of his windbreaker. The guy might just talk harshly. I wondered if he was an off-duty cop. A real one. Likely not, or he already would have identified himself. Who was he? He sounded so familiar. My mental database didn’t spit out enough instant clues. The brain’s memory remained stubbornly frozen.

“My car broke down,” I finally said. “Just looking for someplace to make a call.”

“Shore ’nough?” the man said. He stepped closer to me and pointed the flashlight downward. “Thought you city boys carried cell phones.”

Damned, very familiar. The man came close enough for me to smell alcohol on his fetid smoker’s breath. I squinted in the dark and took a closer look at the patch on his jacket. “Blackjack Security Patrol.” I sensed something. Slowly. Recognition. Not the Blackjack part, but him. Some time, somewhere, I had crossed paths with this clown. I rifled through my memory banks, picked up a mental file folder, and dusted it off.

“Don’t want any trouble, friend,” I said in a colloquial South Georgia drawl.

“We don’t want none either. Hit’s why they hired me.” He exhaled a gust of alcohol. “I’m going to need to see your driver’s license and ask you to step over here to the truck.” I resisted and refused to identify myself to this rustic. The guy could have already noted the rental car tag number. Or maybe he recognized me from way back when. Probably not, so I took a chance.

“It’s in my billfold, right here in my pants.” I reached very slowly for my hip pocket. “Here’s the license, if you’ll just shine your light here.” My right hand went up to the guy’s face. As soon as the light moved, so did I. My right fist slammed into the watchman’s nose, followed by a hard sock in his rather ample beer gut. He collapsed in “oomphs!” and “umphs!” onto the ground while holding his nose and abdomen.

I lost no time going to his older model pickup, taking the keys, and tossing them into nearby bushes. I hurried back to the rental and departed the area to San Jose.

My eyes stayed on the rearview mirror all the way. No one followed. I took the entrance ramp onto I-295 north, crossed the St. Johns going west, and retreated north along Blanding Boulevard into town, the long way to my hotel.

I had confirmed who owned the big luxury SUV, and that matched the auto’s registration records. The question lingered, what did it mean? At some point, I would have to talk with this person. More information was needed first.

Back to the neighborhood cop. Who was the guy?

Finally, mental pictures emerged from a particular time in my past. Suddenly, one of my darkest memories unfolded in my brain.

More on my author page.