Miles Nilsson Fowler

I asked my local Barns and Noble to put my book on the shelf in late December, and all three copies have sold. A local bookstore called Dominion Books offers a kind of open-mic night for authors to read their work, and I intend to go the evening of February 2nd.  Some comments and interactions relating to my book: Catherine arrived late to a meeting saying, "I blame Miles for my tardiness. I got to reading his book and lost track of time." A real page-turner, I guess. I have gotten both positive and negative feedback about the subtitle, "An Intellectual Thriller." Susan thinks it is a good subtitle because it lets readers know what they are getting into. For every reader turned off by it, others might be attracted by the implicit challenge posed by the subtitle. Mike, on the other hand, says, "It makes me feel left out." Mike is always self-deprecating. Gene says that he still thinks that John the Apostle wrote the Gospel According to John and that he is t...

Murder in the Grand Bazaar: An Intellectual Thriller Available now in ebook on  Kindle ,  Nook , and  Kobo .  and in paperback at Amazon and Barnes and Noble ! Type of work: Book, novella + afterword Genre and key words: Thriller, early Christian history, LGBTQ+ Eras and Settings: Late twentieth century Istanbul/ First century Palestine Rating: Mature ISBN#    9798218222512 (ebook) available now                       ISBN#    9798218291211 (paperback) available now Website: https://www.storyrocket.com/murder-in-the-grand-bazaar-an-intellectual-thriller Short description: Felix Markarian, a gay American scholar, comes to Istanbul to see a dealer who holds an ancient book. When the dealer turns up dead and the book is stolen, Felix is plunged into a dangerous world of police, thieves and killers, where nothing and no one is what they seem. : simile of Book's cover Longer descrip...

        Prologue: The Little Albert Case   A suburb of Munich, Bavaria, Germany, 11 September 1885        The stranger’s true name was not the one on the passport in his breast pocket, but he had decided long ago that his identity—especially who others thought he was—mattered little. Standing in the shadows across the road from a cottage nestled in overgrown shrubbery, all he cared about was his present mission and the cause it served. Under his gray wool suit, his body was hard and athletic. His clean-shaven jaw was square, and his blue eyes, shaded beneath his homburg, were deceptively gentle. His visible hair was short and dark blond. The only flaws on his handsome head were his ears, which stuck out.      According to his pocket watch, it was now seven o’clock in the morning. He had arrived in Munich yesterday and taken a room at a boardinghouse in Sendling. He had arisen at five this morning and made his way ...