Against My Better Judgment by B.T. Polcari
About Author B.T. Polcari…
B.T. Polcari is a multiple-award-winning author whose debut novel, Against My Better Judgment, won Honorable Mention in the Mystery/Crime Category of the Eric Hoffer Awards and the Silver Medal for YA Mystery in the Readers’ Favorite Awards. The book was also one of only 134 Eric Hoffer Grand Prize Finalists out of 2500 entries, a First Horizon Award Finalist for debut authors, a Finalist in Cozy Mysteries of the American Fiction Awards, and a Finalist in Humor/Satire/Comedy of the Best Book Awards.
Polcari’s second book, Fire and Ice, was a category finalist in The Eric Hoffer Awards and a finalist in both the Cozy Mysteries and Humor/Comedy/Satire categories of the American Fiction Awards.
His third book, Lucky Secrets, has received critical acclaim from Kirkus and The US Review of Books, among others (for a small sample, see Editors’ Review on the Lucky Secrets Amazon page).
Polcari is a graduate of Rutgers University and a proud father of two wonderful children. He’s a champion of rescue pups (Mauzzy is but one example), craves watching football and basketball, and, of course, loves reading mysteries. Among his favorite authors are Richard Osman, D.P. Lyle, Frederick Forsyth, Robert B. Parker, and Michael Connelly. He is also an unapologetic fantasy football addict. He lives with his wife in scenic Chattanooga, Tennessee.
This is a spotlight on “Against My Better Judgment” by B.T. Polcari
Against My Better Judgment Blurb
When freshman year at the University of Alabama draws to a close, Sara Donovan finds herself grappling with the same old question—listen to her head or follow her heart. What she ends up doing is purchasing an Egyptian funerary mask, and after a mysterious phone call, she’s certain there are artifact smugglers operating in Tuscaloosa.
With finals never far from her mind and her return to ‘Bama hanging in the balance, she should be studying. Instead she launches her own investigation to prove her mask is indeed a stolen artifact, and not a cheap trinket. When it comes time to snoop, Sara is more than ready, or at least she was until a hot new teaching assistant moves in next door.
Suddenly she learns things are never as they seem. Ever.
What Readers can expect from Against My Better Judgment
The genre is YA Mystery although the book has crossover appeal to all generations as a Cozy Mystery. My hope is that readers will laugh as they work on solving the mysteries, which in the second and third books include codes, ciphers, and puzzles. When I set out to write Against My Better Judgement, I wanted to write a fun quirky book with a young protagonist who people looked on as different but possessed an inner strength even she didn’t know was rattling around in there somewhere. At the end of the day, I want readers to finish the book with a smile on their faces, laughter in their hearts, and the knowledge that being true to yourself and believing in your convictions will carry you a long way. Ultimately the story is about perseverance and self-belief.
Against My Better JudgmentPurchase Links
Against My Better JudgmentPurchase Links for Paperback
Signed copies can be purchased at B.T Polcari’s website.
An excerpt from Against My Better Judgment…
I waited another ten seconds, straining to hear anything that would give away the intruder’s location.
Still nothing.
I forged ahead, the snail’s pace turning my ankles into jelly.
One more step to go.
I stopped and crouched up against the inside wall of the staircase. Just earsplitting silence. Gathering myself, I summoned whatever semblance of courage remained in my trembling body.
A second later, my brain issued the command. Okay—it’s go time.
I lunged up toward the last stair, propelling myself into the loft.
At least that was the plan.
My leading foot caught the lip of the top stair, sending me crashing down. The pepper spray sailed across the room as the elbow of my outstretched arm slammed into the wood floor. I didn’t hear the dispenser hit anything, so either the killer caught it, or it landed in the pile of clean clothes on the floor. Either way, not good. Worse yet, the raised bat fell backward, its barrel cracking me on the back of the head before bouncing and rolling down the stairs.
Disarmed and face down, I lay sprawled between the top step and the floor of the room. Before the killer could react, I scrambled to my feet and hit the light switch.
And there he was, his intensity palpable.
I stared into his piercing eyes.
