Guest Post/Virtual Tour with Giveaway ~ The Amendment Killer by Ronald Barak


I love reading novels, especially thriller and mystery novels. That said, it had never occurred to me to write one. I was a Physics major in college. I never took a literature class, let alone a creative writing class. How could I write a novel? It was the furthest thing from my mind.

That all changed one day after a round of golf. Sitting at lunch, the conversation turned to what books people were reading and what they thought about them. I had just finished the latest offer of a multiple New York Times bestselling author who I love. However, he had disappointed me on this instance. Not because it wasn’t a good story, but because, without warning, there was no closure. You had to buy the next book. I didn’t like that. And I said so.

Out of the blue, one of my “friends” said something like “If you’re so smart, why don’t you get out of the back seat and show us what you can do?” Being a good lawyer, I pretended I didn’t hear the challenge and I quickly changed the subject.

But, that was it. I’m pretty competitive (mostly with myself) and I was hooked by that challenge. I spent the next nine months writing a novel. No one knew except for my wife. (She knows everything!) When I had a “finished” (not to be confused with “polished”) draft, I had it printed up by one of these print on demand companies and sent it in unidentified brown wrapping to the one who had challenged me, to those who had witnessed the challenge and also to a broader circle of mutual friends.

I didn’t know what I was doing, trying to write a novel, but it least I wanted to show that I had met the challenge, even if not all that well. Not only was it a good laugh for all, it was a “win” for me because I had found that I love writing even more than I love reading!

This brings me to the crux of this guest blog: believability. When I wrote this first novel, I didn’t know how much I didn’t know. Pace? That’s what I lacked when I needed some exercise and went jogging. Voice? That’s what I used when I had to make a legal argument in court.

Point of view? More of the same. Not allowed to use more than one point of view in a single scene? Why not? If one character could share his point of view with another character in the scene, why couldn’t the second character respond in kind? Didn’t Abbott and Costello do that? Never mind that you might not be able to tell “Who was on first.”

A few years further down the road with my writing, I now understand pace, voice, and point of view. I also have come to understand setting, plot, character development, and dialogue. Well, more or less. Sort of. Better than when I wrote that first draft of my first novel.

However, “believability” is another matter. Believe me. 😊 Often also called credibility, I continue to struggle with this issue. What is the difference between delivering a theme that is believable versus exercising some literary license to entertain even if you stray a bit from reality?

I have an editor who tells me I can’t stray from judicial reality when I write a courtroom scene. “That so-called expert would never be allowed to testify on that point,” he says. “His testimony wouldn’t be admissible and so your scene is not credible. In fact, it’s downright kakka.” (He didn’t tell me how to spell that.) And, if that wasn’t enough to get my goat, he always adds “But it’s your book, it’s your call.”

What my beloved editor is saying to me is that my scene is not believable. Believable to whom? Under what circumstances?

People write about time travel. How believable is that? People write about vampires? Is that credible?

Sure, the testimony of my expert witness is not believable to my editor. That’s because he’s a lawyer. He knows. But what about the vast majority of readers who are not lawyers? Or who like vampires and time travel and don’t mind if two people fire rounds of bullets at one another at close range and the hero isn’t hit? Not once?

I value my editor more than I can say. He’s got a great mind and he keeps me focused, but at the end of the day I write for my readers, not my editor. What I think will entertain them. As long as I don’t deceive them by withholding information I have and then springing a surprise on them that is not fair, they will cut me some slack on believability. At least a little. In the name of literary license and entertaining reading.

After all, they read to escape a while from everyday reality; they don’t want the hero being shot and killed, or seriously wounded, even if he would have been in reality. There’s a mystery he has to solve; he can’t do that spending three months in a hospital bed recovering from a gunshot while the killer is on the loose running around and creating mayhem.

Series: Brooks/Lotello Thriller (Book 1)
Publisher: Gander House Publishers (November 1, 2017)
Genre: Political & Legal Thriller
ISBN-10: 0982759096
ISBN-13: 978-0982759097
Buy: Amazon, Kindle, IndieBound, The Book Depository



That’s the text message Supreme Court Justice Arnold Hirschfeld receives as hearings commence in the U.S. Supreme Court to determine the fate of the 28th Amendment – enacted to criminalize abuse of power on the part of our political representatives.

In court to defend the amendment, retired U.S. District Court Judge Cyrus Brooks observes his old friend and law school classmate Hirschfeld acting strangely and dispatches veteran D.C. homicide detective Frank Lotello to find out why.

In the meantime, Hirschfeld’s precocious and feisty 11-year-old diabetic granddaughter Cassie, brutally kidnapped to control her grandfather’s swing vote upholding or invalidating the amendment, watches her insulin pump running dry and wonders which poses her greatest threat, the kidnappers or the clock. As Brooks is forced to choose between saving our nation or saving the girl.


This is a rafflecopter giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Virtual Book Tours for Ronald S. Barak.

There will be 1 winner of one (1) $20 Gift Card.

The giveaway begins on February 1 and runs through March 4, 2018.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Described by his readers as a cross between Agatha Christie, Lee Child, and John Lescroart, bestselling author Ron Barak keeps his readers flipping the pages into the wee hours of the night. While he mostly lets his characters tell his stories, he does manage to get his licks in too.

Barak derives great satisfaction in knowing that his books not only entertain but also stimulate others to think about how things might be, how people can actually resolve real-world problems. In particular, Barak tackles the country’s dysfunctional government representatives—not just back-seat driving criticism for the sake of being a back-seat driver, but truly framing practical remedies to the political abuse and corruption adversely affecting too many people’s lives today. Barak’s extensive legal background and insight allow him to cleverly cross-pollinatepollenate his fiction and today’s sad state of political reality.

In his latest novel, THE AMENDMENT KILLER, Barak calls upon his real world legal ingenuity and skill to craft a 28th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution criminalizingcriminalizng political abuse and corruption that Constitutional scholars across the country are heralding as a highly plausible answer to the political chaos destroying the very moral fiber of the country today. It’s difficult to read THE AMENDMENT KILLER and not imagine what could—and should—be expected and demanded of those political leaders who have forgotten they are there to serve and not be served.

Barak is also a committed and strident advocate of finding a cure for diabetes. One of the primary characters in THE AMENDMENT KILLER is the feisty and precocious 11-year-old diabetic granddaughter of the Supreme Court justice holding the swing vote in a case in which Congress is challenging the validity of Barak’s hypothetical 28th Amendment. It is no small coincidence that Barak is himself a diabetic. Or that he has committed 50% of the net proceeds of THE AMENDMENT KILLER to diabetes research and education.

Barak is singularly qualified to have authored THE AMENDMENT KILLER, which will appeal to political and legal thriller aficionados alike. Barak is a law school honors graduate and a former Olympic athlete. While still in law school, he authored a bill introduced in Congress that overnight forced the settlement of a decades long dispute between the NCAA and the AAU to control amateur athletics in the United States.

Present-day politicians would do well to read THE AMENDMENT KILLER and not underestimate the potential of Barak’s 28th Amendment. You can read his 28th Amendment at You can also read his occasional political blogs at

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Excerpt ~ 

Chapter 1

Tuesday, May 6, 6:30 am


We have your granddaughter. Here’s what you need to do.

Thomas T. Thomas III reviewed the language. Again. He closed the phone without hitting send. Yet.

He stared through high-powered binoculars from atop the wooded knoll. As always, the girl hit one perfect shot after another.

Cassie Webber. Age 11. He’d been tailing her for three months. It seemed longer.

She was chaperoned everywhere she went. Two-a-day practices before and after school. Her dad drove her in the morning. He watched her empty bucket after bucket and then dropped her off at school. Her mom picked her up after school, ferried her back to the practice range, and brought her home after daughter and coach finished. Mom and daughter sometimes ran errands on the way, but always together. Even on the occasional weekend outing to the mall or the movies, the girl was constantly in the company of family or friends. Having someone hovering over me all day would have driven me batshit.

His childhood had been different. When Thomas was her age, he walked to school on his own. And he lived a lot farther away than the girl. His daddy had never let his driver chauffeur him around. Wasn’t about to spoil him. Spare the rod, spoil the child. Didn’t spoil me that way either.

He kept telling himself patience was the key. But his confidence was waning. And then, suddenly, he’d caught a break. The girl’s routine had changed.

She started walking the few blocks between school and practice on her own. Dad dropped her off at morning practice and Mom met her at afternoon practice instead of school. Only a ten minute walk each way, but that was all the opening he needed.

Everything was finally in place. He would be able to make amends. He would not let them down.

This time.

She completed her morning regimen, unaware of Thomas’s eyes trained on her from his tree-lined vantage point. No doubt about it, he thought to himself. She was incredibly good. Driven. Determined.

And pretty.

Very pretty.

He relieved himself, thinking about her. A long time . . . coming. Haha! As the girl disappeared into the locker room, he trekked back down the hill, and climbed into the passenger side of the van. He returned the binoculars to their case. He removed the cell from his pocket, and checked the pending text one more time.

Moments later, the girl emerged from the locker room, golf bag exchanged for the backpack over her shoulders. She ambled down the winding pathway, waved to the uniformed watchman standing next to the guardhouse, and crossed through the buzzing security gate. She headed off to school.

Without taking his eyes off her, Thomas barked at the man sitting next to him. “Go.”

Chapter 2

Tuesday, May 6, 7:00 am

Eloise Brooks stared at Cyrus and shook her head. After more than 50 years of marriage, she understood everything about him there was to understand. Still: “I take the time to make you a nice breakfast. The least you could do is eat it while it’s hot.”

She held the warm cup of tea in both hands. “And can’t you talk to me, Cyrus? Why do you treat me like I’m not here? Like I’m some kind of a potted plant.”

Cyrus moved the eggs around on his plate. Speared a bite of fruit, swallowed it, but showed no visible pleasure in it. “I’m eating. What do you want to talk about? You think the couple cut from Dancing With The Stars last night deserved to be sent packing?”

“Should have got the hook weeks ago. You dance better than he does. Even with your two left feet.”

He didn’t answer. She knew why. “What’re you thinking about? Esposito? Whether 50,000 is enough? Your two left feet?”

“All of the above.”

She gazed at him but said nothing. Notwithstanding his apparent disinterest in the plate of food in front of him, his appetite—and his imagination—were never-ending. He loved upbeat music and dancing. And sports. He couldn’t carry a tune or dance a lick. Except for an occasional round of golf, his sports these days were mostly played out in front of the television. But that didn’t stop him from daydreaming. He danced like Fred Astaire. He sang and played guitar and harmonica like Bob Dylan. He moved around a tennis court like Roger Federer.

However, Eloise knew his real passion in life was the law. He had enjoyed a distinguished legal career, first as a trial lawyer and then as a U.S. District Court judge. Now retired from the bench, writing and teaching, and occasionally trying a case that got his hackles up, when it came to the law, those who knew Cyrus Brooks knew he was second to none. Amazing how sometimes he exuded that—with confidence bordering on arrogance—but at other times did not. More so since Frank Lotello had been shot, and barely survived.

Brooks sat there fidgeting restlessly with the newspaper. Eloise reached over and put her hand on his. “You’ll be great, Cyrus. I need to walk Ryder and get dressed, so we can drive into Court together. Please make sure Maccabee’s dishes have enough water and dry cat snacks.”

Arguments in the case were scheduled to commence in barely two hours. The chance to appear before the United States Supreme Court was rare, even for Brooks, but to do it in a landmark case that could permanently change the U.S. political landscape was unparalleled.

When they were first married, Eloise often attended Cyrus’s court appearances, both to show her support and because the judicial process was new to her. Now long accustomed to Cyrus’s legal adventures, Eloise was a less frequent visitor to the courtroom. Given the importance of this case, she told Cyrus the night before that she planned to attend.

He looked up absently with a gentle, distant smile, still fixed in some far-off place, no doubt grateful for her efforts to distract him, and bolster his confidence. “Macc’s snacks? Sure.”

Chapter 3

Tuesday, May 6, 7:20 am

Cassie left the practice range, looking momentarily at the clock on her phone. School began at eight. She had plenty of time.

She strolled along the familiar middle-class neighborhood route to school, sticking to the tree-hugged, concrete sidewalk. Well-kept houses on modest-sized manicured lots, one after another, adorned both sides of the paved street that divided the opposing sidewalks.

Mouthing the words to the song streaming through her earbuds, she made a mental note of a few questions from her morning practice to ask Coach Bob that afternoon.

Using her ever present designer sunglasses—a gift from her grandparents—to block the sun’s glare, Cassie texted her best friend Madison:

Hey, BFF, meet u in cafeteria in 10. Out after 1st period to watch ur mom & my poppy in S Ct—how dope is that? 2 excited 4 words!

As she hit “Send,” she was startled by the sound of screeching tires. She looked up from her phone and saw a van skid to the curb a few houses ahead of her. A man in a hoodie jumped out and charged straight at her.

She froze for an instant, but then spun and raced back in the direction of the clubhouse. “Help! Help!! Someone help me!!!”

As she ran, she looked all around. No one. She saw no one. The guard kiosk was in sight, but still over a block away. Does he want to hurt me? Why? Why me?

Hearing the man gaining on her, she tried to speed up. If I can just get close enough to the gatehouse for someone to help me. She glanced back, shrieking at the top of her lungs, just as the man lunged. He knocked her to the ground, shattering her glasses in the process. “What do you want?! Leave me alone! Get off me!!!”

She saw him grappling with a large syringe. “No!” She screamed even louder, clawing and kicking him savagely—until she felt the sharp stab in the back of her neck. Then nothing.


Excerpt from The Amendment Killer by Ronald S. Barak. Copyright © 2017 by Ronald S. Barak. Reproduced with permission from Ronald S. Barak. All rights reserved.

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  1. I read this book and it was exceptional.  So glad that the author's golf buddy "dared him"!

  2. Thanks, Lori, for letting me sound off and for sharing what I had to say.

  3. Kristin A. says:

    That was a really fun post. I know I'm days late in reading it though. Did any form of the story you wrote as part of the dare make it to print? Did your golf buddy even remember making the dare? How incredible that one passing comment from a friend changed your trijectory so! 

  4. sherry butcher says:

    What is the "ASIN"

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