NEW RELEASE
February 1, 2026
Buy now from BWL or Amazon Kindle
Nashville the setting, suspense the game, TV news director Jack Carr weaves his way through a tangle of greed, country music, murder, and a knockout undercover agent, Gillian Phoenix.
Review Snippets:
“Alcohol, sex, greed and just plain nasty human habits are the gist of this first-person account about a newscaster, his love life, kidnapped children and eviscerated organs. Readers who pick up this book will not be able to put it down.” – 4 Stars – Faith V Smith, Romantic Times
“…runs the gamut of emotions along with just the right amount of twists and turns designed to keep the reader twisting and turning -, and reading – As a serious writer, Rockey has the ability, as they might say in Tennessee, to “run with the big dogs,” when it comes to spinning the kind of yarn that could easily enter today’s best seller list.” – Peggy Russell, The Hinckley Record
Excerpt
CHAPTER 2
Friday April 13, 6:05 P.M. Central Daylight Time (CDT)
Tugging on her red suspenders, F.B.I. Special Agent in Charge, Bonnie Castiglioni, sat at her Atlanta office’s round conference table with Tennessee Bureau of Investigation, Nashville Bureau Chief, Guy Pickle.
Looking more like Columbo than Columbo, Pickle said, “You said that.”
Bonnie ran her right hand through her butch cut black hair. “It’s a new twist, Pickle, scumbag angle of the week.”
Bonnie snapped her suspenders, stood, and walked to a swath of windows overlooking the sparkling steel and glass high rise building of downtown Atlanta. She turned and leaned against the marble sill. “You know our jurisprudence darlings, to prove someone is dumping in the water, you gotta have a witness to the act. We need someone to go undercover, Pickle, catch a scumbag we suspect is dumping in the water.”
Pickle joined her at the window, “I’m listening.”
“We have good evidence that points to a Houston connection who is hooked up with a five-star scumbag who lives in your fair Music City, runs a string of strip joints, massage parlors, owns
a C&W hookah bar/lounge—Felix the Cat—that features female servers called Kittens.”
Pickle, not surprised: “Snakebite Walker.”
Bonnie nodded, “The scumbag also runs a little ranch, twenty miles south of Nashville, uses it as some kind of charity write-off, supposedly something for disadvantaged kids.” Bonnie gave Pickle a stare. “Hello.”
Pickle: “So where are we?”
“You have a special agent, could pass for Ms. World, make a dandy Kitten.”
Another no-surprise look from Pickle, “Joyce Kensington.”
Bonnie said, “Undercover … she’d have to volunteer.”
Pickle thought a minute, “Knowing her, she will.”
“Can she act?”
“Whata’ ya mean?”
“She’s got a law degree, right?”
“Yeah.”
“She’ll have to go back to school, as in backwards, let’s go get a drink, I’ll explain.