Run for your Life Trilogy by Pamela Beason Book Tour and Giveaway :)


Race With Danger
Run for Your Life Trilogy Book 1
by Pamela Beason
Genre: YA Suspense, Action, Adventure

Champion runner Tanzania Grey, 17, has to win the Verde Island Endurance Race's million-dollar prize to save the life of her friend Bailey. The treacherous five-day race traverses a remote volcanic island that's home to beasts that slither, fly, swim, and slink through the jungle. But the wildlife turns out to be the least of Tana's problems when she draws the name of Sebastian Callendro as her partner. Sebastian's personal life has put him in the national spotlight, and his nosy followers are the kind Tana can't afford. Her name isn't really Tanzania, and everything else in her biography is invented, too. She’s been running for three years─from the men who murdered her parents. If her cover is blown, she could be next.

**Only .99 cents!!**

The cameras swivel in my direction. As I approach the glittering bowl, I take a deep breath and pray for inner calm and fantastic luck. I’m not usually a team player, so this partner element makes me sweat even more than usual. But this is the biggest race of the year with a grand prize of a million dollars, and I will win this even if I have to drag my partner up every hill and through every river on this steamy tropical island. I have to win. A life depends on it. I swim my hand around the giant fishbowl, trying desperately to feel magic. Maybe I should have sanded my fingertips to make them more sensitive. Please God-If-There-Is-One, give me a little zing when I touch the name of the right partner. Give me a sign. The slips of paper, rolled into tight little cylinders and tied with red ribbons, all feel exactly the same. No zing. As the seconds tick past, the matching blond Barbie Doll attendants standing guard at each end of the table start to shoot sideways glances at me. Their camera smiles stiffen into grimaces. Magic, magic, magic, I chant in my head. I finally pull one slip out and hand it to the emcee, whose features beneath his dripping makeup are so perfect and bland that he looks like he came here directly from an Intense Botox workshop. With a practiced flourish, he unties the bow and unfurls the note. He scans it for a second. Then he faces the camera, flashes his uber-white teeth and shouts, “Sebastian Callendro!” My heart does an immediate crash dive. It lands on the hard ground in front of my toes and shatters into a dozen pieces. I want to fall to my knees, shake my fists at the relentless sun overhead, and scream, “No fair!” Instead, I smile and walk a few steps forward to meet my new teammate halfway. Every camera in the place focuses on us. Callendro and I shake hands as we size each other up. Although he’s thousands of miles away right now, I can feel waves of jealousy radiating across the airwaves from Private Emilio Santos. I know he will watch this if he can. Emilio is tall, with hair like a river of ink, eyes like bittersweet chocolate, and a swagger that everyone notices even when he’s standing still. His blue-black sheen of whiskers makes him look older and more dangerous than his nineteen years, and he likes that. His almost-beard is one reason I nicknamed him Shadow, and he likes that, too. But here, on Verde Island in the blazing sunlight of early morning, nothing is shadowy. Sebastian Callendro is maybe three inches taller than I am. I’m wearing my trademark gold tee shirt with the galloping stallion logo of my sponsor, Dark Horse Networks, on the back. Callendro’s blue tee has three emblems across his chest, like a row of military medals. There’s a jet zooming through a circle, then a sports car logo, then what looks like a couple of crossed test tubes, maybe an insignia for one of those monster pharma companies like the one my mom worked for. No doubt there are more designs all across his back. Holy guacamole, there’s even a row of logos marching down each side of his black running shorts. Does he have decals on his butt? It’s the only space left. I guess it makes sense. Now that the word is out, Sebastian Callendro has so many sponsors that all their names won’t fit on his shirt. He probably flew to Verde Island on a private jet with a real bed and real food, too. But right now, we both have identical drips of sweat streaming down our temples. Sebastian’s hair is scraped back in a ponytail, like mine, but his is a rich walnut brown, while mine is ebony with only the tiniest hints of red. The skin on the back of his extended hand tends more toward the copper spectrum than my own caramel shade. His green eyes, too light under such thick black lashes, stare into my hazel ones. His gaze is laser-intense, and just a little creepy, like he’s trying to see under my skin. Of course I’ve seen Sebastian Callendro before, but never so close that I can count his eyebrow hairs. He’s more than a year older than I am, which makes him eighteen or maybe even nineteen. Together, we make up the youngest team in this contest—could that be an advantage? Catie Cole is the other seventeen-year-old runner. She’s the favorite golden girl—literally, because she has long blond hair and that evenly sun-kissed skin that comes from a tanning bed. She has a zillion sponsors and a modeling contract. But unfortunately, she’s not just a pretty face; she’s six feet tall and she runs like the wind. She’s real competition. So is Madelyn Hatt. Predictably, all the reporters call her “The Mad Hatter,” although “The Mean Hatter” would probably be more accurate. Madelyn has been accused, but never convicted, of dirty tricks like putting laxatives—or was it sedatives?—in her rivals’ food. She just turned nineteen. Her parents made a really big deal of it, holding a pre-birthday party before the last race we were both in. They scowled at me when I refused to wear the stupid pointy hat for the camera. Except for Marco Senai, a perpetually emaciated runner from Kenya whom I was hoping to land as my partner, I don’t know much about the men in this race. Maybe my new partner can at least contribute some usable intelligence about that. And I sure as hell hope he can keep up. Sebastian Callendro often places near the top of the men’s division, but he’s not a champion like me. “I hope I don’t have to drag you,” I whisper, too softly for the microphones to pick up. “And I’m not carrying you,” he hisses. His smile does not extend to his eyes. The Barbie Dolls drape numbered medallions strung on red, white, and blue ribbons around our necks. We are Team Seven. Holding up our joined hands for the camera, we step forward. Behind us, at least two men are also stepping forward. They’ll be wearing identical suits and mirrored sunglasses, and they’ll have communication sets on their wrists and listening devices in their ears. Their hands will hover near the pistols holstered on their belts. I didn’t feel the magic, but I definitely got zinged with my choice. Sebastian Callendro is The President’s Son.

Race to Truth
Run For Your Life Trilogy Book 2

Champion endurance racer Tanzania Grey, now 18, is haunted by disturbing email messages from the mysterious P.A. Patterson, who seems to suspect her real identity as Amelia Robinson. Four years earlier, she was the only one to escape when the Robinson family was professionally “eradicated” in Bellingham, Washington.
When Tana receives an invitation to compete in an extreme version of the Ski to Sea relay in her home town, she decides to use the race as a cover to gather information about who killed her mother and father, and what became of her then-nine-year-old brother.
Tana soon discovers clues that hint of something terribly wrong in the company her mother helped to create, Quarrel Tayson Laboratories. Worse, her sleuthing attracts the attention of a very frightening man in Bellingham, who knew both her parents. It now seems more a matter of “when” than “if” she will be the next to be killed. Can she turn the tables and reveal who was behind the death of her parents before she becomes their next victim?



Xavier holds out my PFD. I jam my arms through the holes. He’s still pulling on a tab to tighten it as I jump into the boat. As we push off, I remember to unsnap my bike helmet and toss it at him, and then we are off. My right buttock cheek plops down on an energy gel pack and as we back away from the bank, I take a second to squeeze some gel (cherry) into my mouth, followed by a squirt of water from the bottle at my feet. Then I drop everything and paddle hard. We pass by the trees overhanging the river and zigzag between a couple of rocks and branches that I don’t remember from two days ago. The river is moving just as swiftly as it was then. The weather yesterday was warm and the snow has been melting in the mountains, so maybe the current is even faster. Strainer ahead!” JJ yells from the back of the boat. At least now I know to look for a log jam. It might be my imagination, but I think the damn thing is even bigger than it was during our practice run. It is a colossal obstacle that reaches halfway across the stream, and the Nooksack is swiftly sweeping us toward it. We nearly upset the canoe as we frantically paddle on the same side to pass the log jam. But just as I think we’ll make it, our back end starts swinging in the direction of the strainer like a nail pulled toward a magnet. Damn it, Zany, paddle like you mean it!” JJ shouts. What the hell does he think I’ve been doing? I want to yell back that I ran ten miles and then I biked forty-two miles before I even got into this canoe, but what good would that do? So I switch sides and dig in, but the current has us in its clutches, and we slam broadside into the logjam of debris. I swear that this farrago has tripled in size since I last saw it. It’s a gigantic dam of branches. No, no, no!” JJ bellows as we hit. And then we both lean right to dig our paddles into the water. It’s a fatal mistake. The canoe tips sideways and the current pushes the icy water inside. Jason goes into the river first, and although I try to hang onto the upward side of the boat, I get only a second more of air before I’m sucked under the surface, too.

Race For Justice
Run For Your Life Trilogy Book 3

When champion runner Tanzania “Tana” Grey receives a mysterious invitation to the Extreme Africa Endurance Challenge, she fears it might be a trap. The multi-day race is in Zimbabwe, the violence-prone homeland of her brilliant biochemist mother, who was murdered along with Tana’s father. The killers, never apprehended, seem to suspect that Tanzania Grey is actually Amelia Robinson, the girl who escaped their deadly grasp. But when Tana sees a Mom Lookalike in the promotional video for the race, she can’t say no. She doesn’t know whether to be alarmed or delighted when her former race partner Bash Callendro, the “love child” of the U.S. President, arranges to run with her. Tana’s determined to find any remaining family in Africa, and expose the secrets that led to her parents’ deaths. As the clues pile up, Tana realizes that her quest for the truth could destroy not only her and Bash, but will also endanger the lives of everyone she cares about back home.



After several hours of surprising more antelope in the bush, we come to a river, or maybe just a big stream. Rock-strewn brown water. It’s moving swiftly, but it looks no more than a foot or two deep in the middle, so we won’t have to swim. Two women are doing laundry at the edge, and several items of clothing are strewn across the bushes and rocks nearby. How they can possibly get clothes clean in such dirty water? Not far away, three young boys shout and laugh and toss rocks into the water. What is it with boys and throwing stones in water? It was one of Aaron’s favorite activities when we were growing up. I could never stop thinking about all the innocent fish and tadpoles that were probably concussed by his projectiles. “Jambo,” I say to the women, although I suspect that may be Swahili. Bash sticks to “Hello.” Mhoro,” one says. Maybe that means hello. When I repeat it back, I earn a smile. Then another lady points to the race bib on my back. “Eight,” I say, for lack of anything more intelligent to utter. Aaate,” she repeats, stretching out the word. A moment of international bonding? Who knows? We wade into the stream. The ladies gasp and chatter in their native language, and we hear the word “President” in their conversation. Bash rolls his eyes at me. “Will I ever get my own life back?” About halfway across, the water is up to my knees, and I’m taking care with each step to feel a safe footing between the rocks, not wanting to injure an ankle on the first day of the race. The kids are shouting louder now, so I glance their way. And then I spot what they were throwing those rocks at. Eyes. Nostrils. A scaly tail swishes through the brown water. Sharing the river with us is … a crocodile. It’s big and it’s about thirty feet away, which is a distance that a hungry croc could cross in seconds.


Pamela Beason, a former private investigator, lives in the Pacific Northwest. When she's not hard at work on another book, she explores the natural world on foot, on cross-country skis or snowshoes, in her kayak, or underwater scuba diving.


Pam is the author of eleven full-length fiction works: RACE WITH DANGER, RACE TO TRUTH, and RACE FOR JUSTICE in the Run for Your Life YA suspense trilogy, THE ONLY WITNESS, THE ONLY CLUE, and THE ONLY ONE LEFT in the Neema mysteries, ENDANGERED, BEAR BAIT, UNDERCURRENTS, and BACKCOUNTRY in the Summer "Sam" Westin series, and the romantic suspense novel SHAKEN. She's also the author of the romantic adventure novella CALL OF THE JAGUAR, and nonfiction titles SAVE YOUR MONEY, YOUR SANITY, AND OUR PLANET and SO YOU WANT TO BE A PI? She is currently working on a sequel to SHAKEN and the next Sam Westin novel.

As an avid nature and animal lover, Pam challenges the human assumption that we are the superior species. Each of her titles takes readers on an adventure while reminding us that drifting through life is not enough; you have to live it.

Pam writes and tweets about writing, animals of all sorts, outdoor adventures, and the value of being present in the moment. She looks forward to connecting with readers on her website, Twitter, or BookBub.



What are you passionate about these days?

Right now, I’m passionate about the same things I’ve always been passionate about: animals and the environment.
Every day, animals put a smile on my face and wonder and appreciation in my soul. As I write this, it’s spring here in the Pacific Northwest, which means sticky seed pods and bud wraps litter the ground in my backyard as leaves and blossoms burst forth on the trees overhead. Each morning, my three cats take turns jumping into my lap, rubbing against me and asking for their sticky-stuff-laden fur to be combed into sleekness again. Their behavior reminds me of the big fish I’ve seen at cleaning stations while scuba diving, parking themselves and letting the tiny cleaning fish go to work. It’s as if both these fish and my cats are saying, “My turn! Clean me now!”
My town is blessed with trails and green space everywhere, and I walk and bike a lot. I never use headphones because when I’m outdoors, I’m dedicated to staying unplugged and present. I’ve seen barred owls dive into a local creek for crayfish (unusual behavior for owls), and ospreys sitting on branches waiting for a big fish to swim by. I take great delight in watching all the water birds and butterflies. I marvel at the moths whose camouflage is so perfect that it’s hard to spy them against tree bark. My favorite music is tree frogs singing at night.
During my travels, I’ve wrestled a Colobus monkey for possession of a spoon, held a tarantula in my hand, changed a tire among a herd of Cape Buffalo, and once had to wait for an elephant to finish his breakfast before I could walk to the lodge to get my own.
At home, I hike and snowshoe in the Cascades, and I’ve observed mountain goats, elk, deer, bears, ravens, ptarmigans, foxes… I could go on and on. While kayaking, I see eagles, seals and sea lions, otters and harbor porpoises. From larger boats and from shore, I’ve marveled at orcas and humpback whales. And don’t even get me started on the amazing creatures I’ve seen while scuba diving. The most common discussion after surfacing goes something like this: “Did you see that translucent creature with red eyes and blue feelers sitting on that anemone? What was that?” Each dive is like a trip to another planet.
But all these wonderful animals are on this planet, our planet, and Earth is such an incredible place with all its astounding variety of life. So I’m passionate about preserving the environment and the intact ecosystems that animals need. Every one of my books contains animals. In the Run for Your Life trilogy, Tana races through all sorts of exotic areas filled with a variety of wildlife. And Tana has unusual pets at home, too. My Sam Westin mysteries feature wildlife throughout the American West and the Galapagos Islands. And my Neema mysteries feature a gorilla who has been taught sign language.
So, obviously, you could say that I’m passionate about animals.
I will always be.

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