{"title":"The Feeder Series","description":"\u003cp\u003ePower. Blood. Desire. Every dynasty has a beginning, and the Martins' story spans generations, continents, and the boundaries of reality itself.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe Feeder Series follows the rise of John Martin from a young smuggler bleeding into the Brazilian jungle in 1970 to the most powerful man on Earth. Along the way, his dynasty collides with assassins, secret cabals, alien intelligence, Nazi conspiracies, demons wearing human faces, and forces that have been shaping humanity from the shadows since ancient Egypt.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThis is Luxe Noir. Champagne in a penthouse with blood on the marble. Power dressed in a bespoke suit. Dynasty written in diamonds and gunfire.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eThe Feeder. A mission in Amsterdam collapses, and John Martin is dragged into a world of assassins, secret cabals, and forbidden knowledge buried deep in the Amazon. The dynasty begins the moment he chooses hunger over mercy.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eAlien AI. John's granddaughter Marion drives a black Tesla through Oxford to meet a boyfriend who turns out not to be human. A shapeshifting alien race has been infiltrating the family empire for generations. From a hidden Greek lighthouse to the depths of Area 51 to an Antarctic city beneath the ice, Marion and John uncover a war for reality itself.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eGoldblood. January 1970. A smuggler's plane tears apart over the Brazilian jungle with three hundred and eighty kilos of Pablo Escobar's pure cocaine in the hold. John parachutes into quicksand. A banana spider bites him. A twenty-one-year-old tribeswoman named Anaiá pulls him out, and her shaman drives a needle of viper venom through his ribs into his heart to keep it beating. They show him their mountain. The dust inside it turns blood to fire under a full moon. He returns in December with soldiers and takes the mountain. This is the origin.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eLuxe Rage. December 1937. Bruce and Camilla Martin walk into the Adlon Christmas Ball in Berlin in Lucien Lelong satin, jewelers to the wives of the Reich, suppliers of the supercharged Pervitin that fuels the Wehrmacht, and the most dangerous spies MI6 has ever run. They walk out with the Reich's invasion plan and sell it to a young naval intelligence officer named Ian Fleming at White's Club for two hundred and fifty thousand pounds. By 1948, they are hunting Hitler in Patagonia. Hitler did not die in the bunker.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eEach book stands on its own. Start anywhere.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eFeaturing Hitler, Eva Braun, Pablo Escobar, Ian Fleming, Ernest Hemingway, President Kennedy, Casanova, Miles Davis, Detroit Red, Richard Burton, Elizabeth Taylor, Sophia Loren, Roger Moore, Diahann Carroll, Jim Morrison, and the Count of Saint-Germain.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003eFor readers of Wilbur Smith, Ian Fleming, Robert Anton Wilson, and Ken Follett.\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\"A thriller like no other — might even be defined as a new genre.\"\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003ePower. Blood. Desire. The deep state is not a theory. It is a bloodline.\u003c\/p\u003e","products":[{"product_id":"the-feeder","title":"The Feeder","description":"\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"a-text-bold\"\u003eDear Reader. You have a choice to make! Can you take it, or will the books break you? Put away your phone and experience the power of the Feeder World. Fill your glass to the brim and light it up. I will see you on the other side.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"a-text-bold\"\u003e— JFK Løvlien\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"a-text-bold a-text-italic\"\u003eJohn Martin was not happy.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eSeventy. Norwegian. Trillionaire. Chablis at breakfast in a glass mansion above the Oslo fjord. Lucky Strike between his teeth. Bored. He flies to Amsterdam to chase an old flame and smoke something called Synthetic Black Snake Mamba.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eHe wakes up tied to a barstool. Two starved Pit Bulls circling him, LSD coming on hard. A voice in the dark wants to know where the Nexus is.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eWhat John does to those dogs with a bottle of Lagavulin, a Ronson lighter, and a full bladder, you will have to read for yourself. Just know that he climbs out of a bar window with the Pit Bulls still burning, runs into a forest in the rain, and meets a tall black woman holding a red balloon. She does not speak. She leads him to a well that should not be there, down a tunnel that does not obey the rules of distance, and out into a train station in Amsterdam. Tell me you have read a thriller that opens like this.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eA hitman called The Brander is hunting him. A Swedish farm boy who learned to love the smell of burning flesh and now injects frozen poison through a calling-card brand on the necks of his targets. He nearly takes John's eye in room 666 of the Hotel Okura. Months later he climbs through John's bedroom window in Oslo. What John does to him in the Cabin's eight-meter industrial grill is what he does. He mails the ashes to the man who hired him. The note: \u003c\/span\u003e\u003cspan class=\"a-text-italic\"\u003eI am afraid I grilled him a bit too hard.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eHis daughter Lela walks alone into a Bilderberg ceremony at Maison de Maître wearing her father's old snake-eats-its-tail ring. From a railing above an underground chapel hung with stolen Goyas and Picassos, she watches ten masked people carve the planet up like a Monopoly board. She shoots her way out.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eHis son Leif drives a candy-red Tesla through a blizzard to a private resort owned by a redhead named Elisabeth Warden. She has spent her life hunting the lost diary of Francis Barret. She bought it from the Paris bookstore where Jim Morrison read it in 1971. She wants Leif's blood. She has a chalk circle, three silver chalices, bat blood laced with Covid, and Latin older than the Reich. She summons the demon. He comes through the portal as a green hand grasping a golden crown. He calls himself Jim. Architect of the Red Pyramid under Pharaoh Sneferu. Reborn as the Count of Saint-Germain. The man who broke Casanova in 1774 Venice. The voice in the head of a young American boy who grew up to stand on a stage and scream \u003c\/span\u003e\u003cspan class=\"a-text-italic\"\u003eThe End.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eA Brazilian CIA agent births a virus-demon in his skull in a Helsinki lab. A two-hundred-year-old shaman called The Magus binds its soul into a red diamond John will wear for the rest of his life. The wedding is in Jamaica. Yo-Yo Ma plays Cello Suite No. 1. A bullet hits the Ronson lighter in John's pocket and ricochets sideways. Someone close to him dies in his place. Then John Martin does what John Martin does. A starved Pitbull named Leroy. A frozen human head over the Atlantic. An English prime minister handing over his fifteen-year-old daughter at gunpoint.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eAnd then John walks into his garden in June, kneels in front of his new wife, and reminds her exactly who he is.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eReal figures in the shadows: \u003c\/span\u003e\u003cspan class=\"a-text-bold\"\u003eJim Morrison. Casanova. Hemingway. Francis Barret. Aleister Crowley. The Count of Saint-Germain. Sneferu. Margaret Thatcher. Henry Kissinger. David Rockefeller. Yo-Yo Ma. The Bilderberg Group.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eFor readers of Wilbur Smith, Ian Fleming, Robert Anton Wilson, Ken Follett, and Hunter S. Thompson.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"a-text-bold\"\u003ePower. Blood. Desire. The deep state isn't a theory. It's a bloodline.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eRead in publication order — Feeder, Alien AI, Goldblood, Luxe Rage.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e","brand":"JFK Løvlien — Author \u0026 Publishing Services","offers":[{"title":"Perfect Bound","offer_id":42689724612656,"sku":"9786500577181","price":17.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":true}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/0588\/2645\/7136\/files\/The_Feeder_New_cover.jpg?v=1777345923"},{"product_id":"alien-ai","title":"Alien AI","description":"\u003ch4\u003e\u003cspan class=\"a-text-bold\"\u003eDear reader. Crack open something to steady your nerves and proceed with caution.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/h4\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eJohn Martin dreams he is on the moon, in a cavern of black diamonds that burn like rage. He kills a Grey alien in a red-and-silver corridor with his bare hands and a knife that wasn't there a second ago.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eHe wakes up in his penthouse in Jamaica. His wife, Joanna, is naked beside him. He makes love to her and finishes the cigar.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/span\u003e\u003cstrong\u003e\u003cspan class=\"a-text-bold a-text-italic\"\u003eThen he sees the moonrock on the floor.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/strong\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eThree days later, his granddaughter Marion is driving across Oxford in a black Tesla, smoking a joint, listening to \u003c\/span\u003e\u003cspan class=\"a-text-italic\"\u003eKiss the Fucking Ring\u003c\/span\u003e\u003cspan\u003e on Spotify, sipping Brazilian rum from a bottle on the dashboard. She is twenty-two, redheaded, freckled, and the granddaughter of the wealthiest man on Earth. She has a small knife hidden in the back of her bra. Tonight she is going to fuck her secret boyfriend — a janitor in Whitechapel with a hidden studio in a basement nobody is supposed to know exists.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eHis paintings cover the walls — AI-generated, hyperreal, one of them showing a lighthouse that is not a lighthouse.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eShe pushes him onto the couch and gets on top.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eShe is halfway through when his eyes go fully black. He lifts her into the air and brings her down hard enough to tear her inside. She does not scream. The knife comes out of her bra. She drives it into his skull until he stops moving.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"a-text-bold a-text-italic\"\u003eThere is no blood. His head is full of metallic liquid.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eShe washes herself in the sink. She finishes the rum. She calls her grandfather.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eHer mother arrives. A psychic. A Jamaican shaman. She looks at the dead machine on the studio floor and the smile on her daughter's face.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"a-text-bold a-text-italic\"\u003e\"You had sex with THAT?\"\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eThey laugh until they cry.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eThe Magus arrives an hour later. She kisses Marion on the mouth and pulls the alien intelligence out of her body in a stream of black fire. \u003c\/span\u003e\u003cspan class=\"a-text-italic\"\u003e\"Sometime in the distant future, you will become a cyborg. By the time it happens, it will serve you well.\"\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eThe people running the world aren't human. They wear human faces. They sit in boardrooms. They ride in motorcades. They headline tech keynotes.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eThe lizard Casanova followed up the stairs of a Paris brothel in 1750. The entity Kennedy stared down in the Oval Office three weeks before Dallas. The thing that wore the face of the Count of Saint-Germain through three centuries of European courts and never aged a day. All the same thing. And it is finally close enough to taste.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eTo save her bloodline, Marion will infiltrate Area 51. Cross the Antarctic ice to a city of black glass beneath the Ross shelf. Sit across a table from a tech billionaire who is not a man and watch his teeth grow while he negotiates.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eShe will fall in love with something with cobalt scales on a Caribbean beach. She will give birth to something else.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eAnd on the astral plane, on the back of a camel, she will face a demon wearing every face it has ever worn.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"a-text-bold\"\u003eReal history is the cover story.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"a-text-bold\"\u003eCasanova. Kennedy. Oswald. Malcolm Wallace. The Count of Saint-Germain. Bob Lazar. Jim Morrison. And a tech billionaire whose name you almost recognize.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"a-text-bold a-text-italic\"\u003eWritten before the disclosure made it news.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eIf Joe Rogan, Lex Fridman, The Why Files, and Mr. Mythos are part of your media diet — and you've been watching the UAP hearings unfold — this is the novel they would be talking about.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"a-text-bold\"\u003eFor readers of Robert Anton Wilson's Illuminatus! Trilogy, Pierce Brown's Red Rising, and Justin Cronin's The Passage.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"a-text-italic\"\u003eBook 2 of The Feeder Series. Reads as a standalone.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e","brand":"JFK Løvlien — Author \u0026 Publishing Services","offers":[{"title":"Perfect Bound","offer_id":42691489890352,"sku":"9786501879673","price":17.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":true}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/0588\/2645\/7136\/files\/Alien_AI_New_cover_UPLOAD_THIS_ONE_TO_KINDLE.jpg?v=1777345878"},{"product_id":"goldblood","title":"Goldblood","description":"\u003ch4\u003e\u003cspan class=\"a-text-bold\"\u003eDear reader. Time to mix yourself a Caipirinha and strap up. This shit will blow your mind.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/h4\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eJanuary 1, 1970. La Ceja, Colombia. Pablo Escobar hands John Martin 380 kilos of pure cocaine and takes a briefcase of $3.8 million in cash. Then the Patrón gifts him a machete with the words \u003c\/span\u003e\u003cspan class=\"a-text-italic\"\u003epara los problemas\u003c\/span\u003e\u003cspan\u003e engraved on the blade.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eThat night, the Cessna's right engine catches fire over the Brazilian jungle. The parachute fails on the first pull. Opens on the second.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eMartin recovers the cocaine from the wreckage just before the fuel tank erupts. A banana spider finds him unconscious. He splashes Jameson on the wound, falls down a ravine, and slides into grey quicksand.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eA young tribeswoman named Anaiá lassoes him out.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eHer people are called Os Ocultos. The Hidden Ones. The shaman drives a tapir bone needle through Martin's ribs into his heart. The mixture is called \u003c\/span\u003e\u003cspan class=\"a-text-italic\"\u003eKaluri\u003c\/span\u003e\u003cspan\u003e. Most men die.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eJohn Martin lives.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eThe tribe has a name for what runs in their veins under the full moon.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"a-text-bold\"\u003eGoldblood.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eAnaiá warns him to mask his scent and hide at three in the morning. Martin watches the tribe tear apart an Englishman with their teeth and drink him to the bone.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"a-text-bold\"\u003eAnd inside their mountain sleeps a fortune in gold the world doesn't know about.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eBy the end of the year, John Martin returns with soldiers. He drags Anaiá's father from his bed. He kills him in front of her. He kills her mother. He kills her people. He takes the mountain. And the one beside it.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"a-text-bold\"\u003eThe cocaine, it turns out, is the smaller fortune.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eAt the Café Martinique in Nassau, Elizabeth Taylor, in lavender silk, throws her drink in Richard Burton's face. Burton tells Martin he's rich as a bitch. Sophia Loren takes his arm for the rhumba. Roger Moore leaves with Luisa Mattioli. Ursula Andress kisses Burton's forehead.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eHemingway smiles down from a framed photograph in his Key West villa. Jim Morrison stares from another.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eThen Diahann Carroll takes him by yacht to a forgotten island. Down into an underground kitchen where Mahalo plays \u003c\/span\u003e\u003cspan class=\"a-text-italic\"\u003eBitches Brew\u003c\/span\u003e\u003cspan\u003e on a Gibson Hummingbird. Mama Rena, a CIA fortune teller, deals him a deck he has never seen before. She tells him a number.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"a-text-bold\"\u003e317.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eShe tells him his reality is not real. She tells him he has been here before.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eThen comes Pastor Babas. A voodoo priest in a red robe embroidered with eagles. A glass of wine drugged with a fungus that enslaves an entire town. He has been waiting for John Martin for a very long time.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eWhat follows is three hundred kilometers of the Amazon by canoe. Past alligators with eyes like rusted gates. Into a tunnel where a spider the size of a Volkswagen corners Martin and his driver, Hailson. Through a Quilombola settlement that may or may not still be human.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eAnd the priest is the smaller demon. The bigger one is waiting in a Mind Room beneath a Greek lighthouse, and it has been there since ancient Egypt.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eAnd in his mother's last letter, hidden under a stone in an Oslo garden, John Martin learns the truth about who he really is — and where his bloodline leads.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"a-text-bold\"\u003eReal history is the cover story.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"a-text-bold\"\u003ePablo Escobar. Roger Reaves. Richard Burton. Elizabeth Taylor. Sophia Loren. Roger Moore. Ursula Andress. Peter O'Toole. Diahann Carroll. Ernest Hemingway. Jim Morrison. Miles Davis. Howlin' Wolf.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"a-text-italic\"\u003eWritten in the muscular tradition of Wilbur Smith, Ian Fleming, and Robert Anton Wilson — and pushed past the line where any of them ever dared go.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"a-text-bold\"\u003eFor readers of The Power of the Dog, Where Eagles Dare, and The Illuminatus! Trilogy.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"a-text-italic\"\u003eBook 3 of The Feeder Series. The chronological second act of the Martin dynasty saga.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"a-text-italic\"\u003ePower. Blood. Desire. The deep state isn't a theory. It's a bloodline.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e","brand":"JFK Løvlien — Author \u0026 Publishing Services","offers":[{"title":"Perfect Bound","offer_id":42694675922992,"sku":"9786501880884","price":17.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":true}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/0588\/2645\/7136\/files\/Goldblood_New_cover.jpg?v=1777346048"},{"product_id":"luxe-rage","title":"Luxe Rage","description":"\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"a-text-bold\"\u003eDear reader. What if I told you that Hitler did not die in the bunker? Crack open a bottle of champagne, and let Luxe Rage rock your world.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eSeptember 2026. John Martin drives a silver Tesla through the lavender fields of Provence. Seventy-nine. Looks fifty-five. The deed in his passenger seat unlocks Château de Montclair — his mother's estate, shuttered since 1947.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eThe old caretaker Henri Bisset is waiting at the gate with a pipe and a story. They drink Domaine Leroy Musigny in a wine cellar sealed under argon for ninety years. Bisset moves a shelf, revealing a vault. Inside: a leather ledger in his father's handwriting.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eJune 1937. Two American brothers in a black Alfa Romeo — Bruce Martin, raven-haired, cobalt-eyed, son of a German master jeweler in Boston — and his brother Theo, reckless, a bottle of champagne in one hand and the wheel in the other. A summer storm forces them into a vineyard called Château de Montclair.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eThat is where Bruce meets Camilla Élise de Montfort. Champagne-blonde. Smoke-grey eyes. A French Catholic bloodline that traces to Simon de Montfort and the Habsburgs. A girl who tells him the time is always right for champagne.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eTwo years later, they are married, working out of Löwenstein \u0026amp; Co., Juwelenhaus, Kurfürstendamm 144, Berlin. They sell diamonds to Eva Braun. Pervitin to Hitler's personal physician. They photograph Goebbels' invasion plan for Czechoslovakia and sell it to a man named Ian Fleming at White's Club for 250,000 pounds.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"a-text-bold a-text-italic\"\u003eCode name: Diamond Falcon.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eThe Adlon Christmas Ball, 1938. Camilla in midnight Lucien Lelong satin. A rivière of forty ice-blue diamonds at her throat. By midnight, Bruce has the Führer's invasion plan in his pocket. By spring, he has the Führer's mistress in his bed.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"a-text-bold a-text-italic\"\u003eThe Eagle's Nest. Bruce walks naked out of the shower and finds Eva Braun waiting on the bed with a bottle of Jameson and a Mauser.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"a-text-italic\"\u003eBy 1943, Berlin is rotting. Ian Fleming sends a telex. Get out.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eThe Allied bombing of Kiel. A Chris-Craft speedboat under a tarp at the marina. Bruce and Camilla outrun a German patrol cruiser in the Baltic by having Camilla flash her bra at the crew. Bruce machine-guns them while they are still laughing.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eNew York, Christmas 1945. Charlie Parker rips through Cherokee with Dizzy Gillespie and Miles Davis at Minton's. Billie Holiday is at the next table. Detroit Red sells them weed. He is twenty. He has not changed his name yet.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eIn 1948, James Jesus Angleton sent a coded telegram.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003cspan class=\"a-text-italic\"\u003e\u003cspan\u003e \u003c\/span\u003eOld uniforms nearby. A price on your head.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eBruce and Camilla leave their newborn son with Theo Martin in New York and board the night train south from Paris.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eTwo Corsican hitmen with eyepatches and Capone faces are watching them across the first-class car.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eBy dawn, they are running down a Spanish coastal cliff in a black Talbot-Lago that goes over the edge into shark waters.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eBy February, they are in Patagonia. At a lake nobody is supposed to know about. Hunting a man the world believes is dead.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"a-text-italic\"\u003eAdolf Hitler did not die in the bunker.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eThe ledger ends there.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eIn the morning, John Martin gets on a plane.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eHitler. Eva Braun. Goebbels. Himmler. Heydrich. Bormann. Morell. Magda Goebbels. Riefenstahl. Ian Fleming. Hemingway. Angleton. Charlie Parker. Dizzy Gillespie. Miles Davis. Billie Holiday. Detroit Red.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eWritten in the muscular tradition of Forsyth, Smith, Furst, and Follett — and pushed past the line where any of them ever dared go.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"a-text-bold\"\u003eFor readers of The Day of the Jackal, Eye of the Needle, and Fatherland.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eBook 4 of The Feeder Series. Reads as the chronological start of the Martin dynasty saga.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"a-text-bold\"\u003ePower. Blood. Desire. The deep state isn't a theory. It's a bloodline.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\n\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan class=\"a-text-bold\"\u003eThe Luxe Rage audiobook is exclusively from the author's website. Pour something cold. Press play. Try not to flinch.\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e","brand":"JFK Løvlien — Author \u0026 Publishing Services","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":42800629088304,"sku":"9786501944197","price":18.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":true}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/0588\/2645\/7136\/files\/Luxe_Rage_Kindle_cover.jpg?v=1777901187"}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/0588\/2645\/7136\/collections\/THE_FEEDER_SERIES_1d423814-e333-4d69-98ea-3b58d06ac4b3.jpg?v=1772661301","url":"https:\/\/jfklovlien.com\/collections\/the-feeder-series\/luxe-rage.oembed","provider":"JFK Løvlien — Author \u0026 Publishing Services","version":"1.0","type":"link"}