South Dakota Mystery

What happens when a giant man rides a vintage motorcycle across America? Sunny Kinnion is about to find out. He’s 6’ 10” and 350 pounds, and he’s leaving his home in Oregon for a journey of self-discovery. His destination: the Black Hills of South Dakota, where he hopes to connect with his heritage and the legends of the Wild West. But along the way, he gets caught up in a shocking incident that changes his life forever. ‘Welcome to South Dakota’ is an action-packed adventure that follows Sunny as he tries to survive and find his true identity. Author Nicholas Thorp creates a ...

Gertrude thinks she's got a knack for proving that ghosts don't exist, but this time she's taking on a celebrity phantom: Seth Bullock. She and Calvin pack the cats into the camper and head to Deadwood, where she will attempt to prove herself right once again. But shortly after she gets there, a movie star drops dead, and she finds herself with two cases to solve. Maybe the two cases are even connected?

On the phone Hugh had said, “I’ve got something you have to see to believe. Get yourself out here.” One year after retiring as a master sergeant in the 75th Rangers, this was Roman Keane’s idea of the perfect way to spend his time: jump on a motorcycle and ride from Georgia to South Dakota to see his old friend, Hugh Early. Hugh had once been Roman’s sniper instructor and was now an internationally respected historian of military arms. Historians, of all people, should know that the past you thought was dead and gone has a way of rising up to finish what it started.

After being thrown in the clink for private investigating without a license, she's fled the state to go where her talents will be more appreciated: South Dakota. She has big plans to set up shop, but an injury halts her journey shortly after crossing The Sunshine State's state line. She and Calvin are forced to hole up in a struggling campground, and when Gertrude finds the body of the campground owner, she is certain the man has been murdered.

The wild places are where no one is looking anymore. Out there on the high plains, among the Sioux reservations and the silent buttes, among the small towns dying and the people with them, you can hear the wind. And on the back of the wind is the sound of an old accordion—tangos—mingling with the lonely thump of a single drum in the nighttime and a far-off warrior’s cry. On the back of the wind is the smell of worn saddle leather and sawdust, of sandalwood, and smoke from ancient ceremonial fires.