To all of you lovers of thrillers and mysteries, I want to extend a warm – if a bit belated – welcome to my blog. What do I blog about? Let me count the ways (as Elizabeth Barrett Browning poetized. I had to look that up).

On second thought, I can’t count what I don’t know. Topics and ideas worm their way into my fevered brain (didn’t that happen recently to an aspiring politician?), and putting them to pen is my way of coping with, or even exorcizing, them.

But I’m getting a little ahead of myself. As an intrepid adventurer who risked the disappointment of failure to win the contest for a bunch of thriller and mystery books, you are to be hailed for your efforts. But you know what? You can get mine, Blood on Their Hands, on sale for a measly $1.99. Just go to Amazon.com, type the title into the search bar, and there it is. Be careful though: One or two other books out there have the same name. Mine has the author name of Bob Brink, not Robert, which I reluctantly use to sign my tax return.

Woops – time for a grammar lesson; that was bad syntax. It should be: which I use to reluctantly sign my tax return. Don’t delay too long, though, as it’s going back up to $2.99 in due time – but certainly not before November 2, when I return from Costa Rica with a mouthful of crowns. The dental kind; I don’t feast on regal headdress.

Now, if you’re a fan of graphic violence and murders piling up like trash from the two hurricanes we experienced down here in Florida, this book isn’t for you. But if you like books with plot twists and turns that keep you in suspense, riveting courtroom drama, a lot of humor, and a heart-rending love story, Blood on Your Hands is your baby. With an abundance of humility (like Dickens’ Uriah Heep, “I’m so ’umble”), I must mention at least one of the glowing reviews it’s received from Amazon readers: “If you’re a fan of Grisham, you’ll love this book.”

By the way, if you do acquire the book, and like it, can you give me a review on Amazon? Please? Pretty please? Reviews are authors’ lifeblood.

Okay, as jazz lyricist Eddie Jefferson says at the end of tenor saxophonist James Moody’s Moody’s Mood for Love: “I am through.”