Keep you close A novel

All working parents doubt how well they're managing the work-life balance. When you're Stephanie Maddox, division chief of the Internal Investigation Section of the FBI, you may have more reason to doubt than most people. Stephanie's parental insecurities go on red alert when a colleague reports that Stephanie's son, Zachary, has been radicalized by a terrorist group targeting vulnerable teens online. Whom should she believe? The son, who has grown increasingly distant and won't account for his time? Or bureau reports, which, mysteriously, Stephanie doesn't have the credentials to access? This fast-paced tale makes a great recommendation for fans of high-stakes poltical thrillers. Cleveland is a former CIA analyst whose debut novel, Need to Know (2018), was a New York Times best-seller, with rights sold to Universal Pictures for Charlize Theron.--Karen Keefe Copyright 2019 Booklist

Early in this propulsive novel from bestseller Cleveland (Need to Know), 37-year-old single mother Stephanie Maddox finds a loaded handgun in the closet of her 17-year-old son, Zachary. Stephanie, who heads the FBI's Internal Investigations Section, knows she should alert the Washington, D.C., police, but when she confronts Zach, he professes ignorance. Stephanie assumes that one of Zach's friends stashed the gun without his knowledge, but then a fellow FBI agent warns her that the domestic terrorism squad suspects Zach is involved with an extremist group called the Freedom Solidarity Movement. Zach denies the charge, prompting Stephanie to investigate. Either Zach isn't who she thought, or someone from Stephanie's past is working to frame him. Equal parts conspiracy thriller and paranoia tale, Cleveland's latest exploits the distance between parents and teenagers while exploring the lines a patriot will cross to protect kin. Elements of the twisty plot strain credulity, but clearly established, ever-increasing stakes create an adrenaline-fueled narrative that will leave readers wanting more. Agent: David Gernert, Gernert Company. (May) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.

The Russians are hereand they're deeply embedded in the most powerful echelons of the United States government.FBI Agent Stephanie Maddox has made a career of putting the bad guys away, starting with organized crime in Chicago and moving up to internal affairs in Washington, D.C. No one knows that she's driven by a trauma from her own past and that trying to outrun this pain has consistently caused her to prioritize her job over the raising of her son, Zachary. Now 17 and about to graduate from high school, Zachary suddenly seems like a stranger to Steph. When a colleague approaches her with the news that Zachary has some links to a domestic anarchist group, she fears the worst, yet she can't help but keep some faith in her son. Drawn deeper and deeper into the web of lies that has been created around Zachary, and desperately fearful for her family's safety, Steph realizes that the Russians have infiltrated the FBI at the highest levels, and they are planning an imminent attack. Now if she can only find someone to believe her....The Russian connection is, of course, both a classic spy trope and also a fear plucked from our daily headlines; Cleveland excels at twisting her plots so tightly that the "big reveal" in the end truly is a surprise. The writing, sadly, isn't as sharply honed as the action, but in a novel like this, few fans will complain as they're swept along by the multilayered plot.While at times it feels overdramatic, Cleveland's (Need to Know, 2018) second political thriller rings plausible enough to keep the most faithfulor eagerconspiracy theorists reading along. Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Chapter 1 Nighttime's always been my favorite time to run. I like the stillness. The quiet streets, empty sidewalks. It's not the safest time to be out, sure. But in running gear, it's not like I have much to steal. And as far as assault: I'm tougher than I look. Trained in defense tactics, able to hold my own. It's the nonrandom crime that worries me more. But if someone's coming after me, they'll find a way to do it, regardless. The Reflecting Pool's off to my left, dark and glassy. Mile six of a planned ten, all under seven and a half minutes so far. A solid pace tonight, better than usual. It's the looming storm that's spurring me on. We've had a week of early spring, unseasonably warm temperatures, the kind that coax buds from bare tree branches, tulip stalks from the soil. But the weather--­it can turn on a dime here in the District, and the forecast says we're due for one last blast of winter. Wind's already picking up. I pass the World War II Memorial, start up the incline to the Washington Monument. I'm in my element here. Muscles working, stretching, strengthening. Pushing myself. I'm in a light jacket, running pants that hit mid-­calf. My head's bare, hair pulled back, tied up away from my neck. Eighties rock in my earbuds, but quietly. Soft enough that I'd hear someone approach, that I'm fully aware of my surroundings. At the top, I catch a glimpse of the White House. Off to my left, glowing bright. Still gives me a thrill to see it, even after years in the city. A constant reminder that I'm close to the highest reaches of power. And where there's power, there's a need for what I do. Past the monument now, heading down the incline, picking up speed. The Capitol dome is ahead, illuminated against the night sky. A memory fills my mind, just for an instant. Me, in that wood-­paneled office, all those years ago. Him, standing up from behind his desk, coming toward me . . . Focus, Steph. It's that damned case at work that's doing it, making me think of the past. I force my legs to work harder, push harder, move faster. Listen to the slap of my feet hitting the pavement, the staccato rhythm. The National Mall stretches out in front of me. A straightaway, a chance to test my speed. My legs are straining. There's pain in my knee, but I push through. Not giving up now. The dome looms large ahead. I see his face in my mind, once again. I can feel his hand on my arm, squeezing tight. . . . Faster still, almost a sprint. I can't change the past, can't do anything about him, not without jeopardizing everything that matters. But I can do something about the future. I can stop someone else. I glance down at my wrist. Five-­and-­a-­half-­minute mile. I can feel the smile come to my lips. I've got this. Tomorrow power gets policed. Excerpted from Keep You Close by Karen Cleveland All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.