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Tazmin Clarke vs. Jack the Ripper

Tazmin Clarke vs. Jack the Ripper
Tamzin Clarke's life seems to be falling into place. She has Jimmy, her musician boyfriend, and a solid group of friends. She's been taking dance class for ten years, and has been promoted to instruct a first year tumbling class. She works in her dad's antique shop on the weekends, and is proud of her grades in school.

Then she meets Daniel, the one who makes her question everything. Who is Daniel, and why does he keep disappearing?

When her sister is murdered, Tamzin's mom is the lead detective on the case, which soon turns into a serial killing spree. The deaths mirror the case of Jack the Ripper, but there couldn't be a connection. Could there?

Tamzin is now on the case.
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About the Book


Best Book Bit:

Victoria Wells

The air was crisp, almost like after a thunderstorm but with no humidity. There were rows of buildings, most with a first floor business and apartments above. Light poured out of the few shops that were still open, but most of the sidewalk areas were dark. Between the rows of buildings was an occasional alleyway. These were poorly lit, and often beckoned to the more adventurous—or more imbibed. I walked the streets in search of my prey: men. I was dressed in a tight black dress, my pushup bra showing a bit of extra cleavage. Although my heels were higher than normal, I commanded them with authority. My makeup was heavy, like a mask telling others I meant business.

A small knot was forming in my stomach because this was my first night on the job. Although I was dressed like a hooker, I was actually a vice cop. I had a dragonfly pin fixed on my chest, and my partner listened through its microphone.

“I’m on Main and Third, south side of the light,” I whispered as if talking to myself. Giving my partner a heads up on my location loosened up the knot just a little.

“I’m half a block away,” Joe announced in my ear. “I can see you, got your back.”

I didn’t look his way, but continued prowling the corner area. A strong smell of fried food wafted as I walked by the Chinese eatery. The small knot turned into a hunger pang, and I briefly thought of taking a break and getting an eggroll. Looking at my watch, I realized I should hold off at least another half hour.

My “route” was the four corners area around the Main and Third intersection. This was the main hooking area in our city of Springfield. As this was my first night undercover, I was feeling my way through. My partner and backup for the night was Joe Berkowski. He was an old pro in this territory; most of the girls seemed to know him but kept their distance.

“Heading a bit further down Third,” I said to no one in particular.

“Don’t stray too far down the road,” he noted through my earpiece. Then he let out a low whistle. “Man, this Chinese food smells good.”

I smiled and nodded to myself. My knot was now a full-on hunger pang.

“Let’s take a break and grab something to eat soon,” I replied. I could almost see him nodding and smiling his grizzled smile.

A black cat wandered across the street, briefly stopping in front of me before bolting down an alley. For some reason, it caught my attention and I followed. Turning the brick corner into the alley, it suddenly hissed and changed direction. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, the form of a man’s outline appeared against the steam coming from a restaurant vent. A potential “customer”?

“Hey sugar,” I offered suggestively. “How are you doing tonight?”

I hesitated before stepping forward, but then remembered that Joe was listening and not far behind. Three steps in, I stopped and gathered myself.

“I am well, my dear. And how are you on this fine evening?”

His face was obscured, so I couldn’t see his expression. He sounded British—sort of aristocratic—and casually playful. The knot in my stomach was coming back, and I could tell that he was grinning. I steeled myself with the thought that he was MY prey.

“Feeling a bit frisky and… looking for some company,” I replied as I baited the hook.

He took a step closer and the shadows left his face. My muscles relaxed—I hadn’t even realized they were tense—when the sparkle in his eyes hit mine. His face reminded me of a thin Superman, dark hair with entrancing lips. I instinctively smiled and looked down, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, when I noticed his rustic boots. My eyes trailed back up his body and it hit me—he reminded me of a movie character—someone in Old England that might be flagging down a horse-drawn carriage. He was even wearing black leather gloves.

“Do you want some company?” I said, back in vice cop mode.

He took another step closer and appeared to examine me from head to toe.

“Yes… you will do nicely.”

He reached his right hand in front of his body toward his left hip. His demeanor was so nonchalant that no alarms went off in my head. His hand then flew up to the right as if in salute, and I realized that he was grasping something that glinted in the moonlight. Everything stood still for a moment, and almost as if in slow motion, I saw a drop of blood fall off the end of his blade. Then I felt what seemed like a paper cut across my throat. In time with my heartbeat, a gush of blood spurted out from my neck.

I instinctively pulled my hands to my throat, clamping down for dear life. I suddenly had a numbing pain in my left arm and jaw, which proceeded to spread through my body. I started to collapse, but the man caught me and gingerly put me down.

“It will be over soon, my dear,” he whispered. His gentle touch reminded me of some kind of demented lover.

I tried to speak, but only made a gurgling sound.

“Vickie? You okay?” Joe sounded in my ear. I tried to respond, but only managed to get out more gurgling.

Things seemed to be getting darker, the life slowly draining out of me. Suddenly I felt my lower body being pulled on. My eyes should have gone wide when I saw the man digging through my intestines, but the nerves were losing their battle. The tugging seemed to subside, and he pulled out his prize: my kidney.

I was losing my grip on my neck—losing my grip on what was going on around me. As things became even darker, my sense of sound exploded for a brief moment. I heard the man’s breathing, the sound of the cat hissing off in the distance, the honk of a car horn, and suddenly an exploding crack. A bullet exploded into the man’s shoulder and exited in a spray of blood. Joe had come to my rescue!

“I’m coming Vickie. Hang on,” he intoned as he took another shot. This one sailed right over my head and penetrated the attacker’s chest near his heart. Bullseye, I thought.

The man seemed a bit annoyed, stood up, and walked back down the alley. One moment he was framed by the steam—the next he was gone.

Joe reached me and fell to his knees as he looked upon my mutilated body. “It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be okay.”

My sense of smell sprang to life, at first filling my nostrils with the acrid, metallic scent of blood—but soon the sickly sweet smell of the alley hit me. Finally, the glorious scent of the fried food from the Chinese diner filled my mind. A slight smile crossed my lips.

The world was ever so dim, finally melting away, and I knew that I was dead.


Series: Tazmin Clarke
Tags: Gold Bookworm, Luciana Correa
Length: 174
Tamzin Clarke and Jack the Ripper is fast, full of gore and fun. I read it with a smile.

Jack the Ripper comes to us from old tales of cold cases in England and I need to confess I scrunched my nose when I saw his name on the title.

The Ripper is in fact an old mystery, but the moment he appeared I realized one should not judge a book by its cover-or its title, in the case. (I slapped my head already)

Lauren and Robert Stock turns it into an awesome paranormal crime adventure with a fast pace and well chosen characters.

Tamzin is devastated by the death of a loved one but between the Ripper and a crush on a stranger she manages to run for her life, save a kid and teach dance classes. She has time for rock concerts and her boyfriend as well. The girl is the best.

The scenery the authors created for the climax of their book is a fake London, a Reconstruction of the time the real Ripper appeared.

Fake London is in Tamzin’s city’s underground-a paranormal creation where Jack built his lair and his cooking facilities. Yes, he has an amazing and creepy kitchen. Tamzin goes deep into Jack's remake of his past and even sleeps in his bed. Alone.

The girl fights for her life in this haunted place with the help of a ghost and learns about Jack from his own mouth in a creative and surprising conversation.

My teenage son read some parts with me-he's curious like that-and loved it too. Tamzin and Jack the Ripper is the kind of book teenagers enjoy. Fun, gore, a rock band and a hot girl with a real boyfriend.

A gold worm.
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