Story Plant Hardcover ISBN: 978-1-61188-209-4
Fiction Studio Books e-book ISBN: 978-1-936558-74-8
“Clever and compelling. Brooke Burrell is my kind of heroine, savvy, kick ass, and with a direct line to the president. You will stay up late and keep turning the pages to the very end.” – Lisa Gardner, #1 New York Times bestselling author
"Tom Avitabile writes with verve and velocity in his terrific thriller. Give Us This Day presents FBI female vet Brooke Burrell, who's kind of a post-modern though equally jaded Clarice Starling. Little does she know that her cushy, quasi-retirement is about to be interrupted by a villain as fiendish as Hannibal Lecter, though on a global level. Give yourself only this day to read it, because that's all you're going to need." - Jon Land, USA Today bestselling author of the Caitlin Strong series
"Avitabile masterfully navigates one killer of a thrill ride within a cautionary tale of global proportions . . . and in Brooke Burrell exhibits a remarkable grasp of the female psyche.” - Olivia Rupprecht, bestselling author of There Will Be Killing
“In Give Us This Day, Tom Avitabile has created another action-packed thriller that offers a diverse and likable cast of characters, a diabolical villain, and a remarkable doomsday scenario that will both frighten and amaze the reader. Avitabile is a master storyteller who keeps getting better and better." - Joseph Badal, Tony Hillerman Award Winner of Ultimate Betrayal
“If you are into action thrillers, with a little bit of terrorism and politics thrown in, this is definitely a book that you are going to want on your bookshelf." - Comfy Reading
"This novel left me breathless!!!! The storyline bursts into action from the first page and charges to the end with unexpected twists and turns that leave you on the edge of your seat." - Book Bug
It always starts out as routine, even when you are only doing it while your husband is deployed at sea. Even if it began as a safe, easy way to make enough cash to start a family. Even if there was no way you would ever get stuck doing it full time . . . after all, that’s why you retired from the FBI.
But then they killed off your prime witnesses all over the globe, erased all of their digital fingerprints from a Wall Street hedge fund, blew up your office, tried to blow up St. Pats and, with unlimited funding from financial plays in the stock market, launched the biggest, most devastating attack ever directed against a city. One that no one saw coming. An unthinkable event that would have ramifications for the next one hundred years or more.
And all you wanted to do was go home to Hawaii and coach high school soccer…
Welcome to former FBI agent Brooke Burrell’s life. Her cushy assignment turns into a countdown to mega-death and destruction, keeping her and her hand-picked group of experts guessing what, where, and when the attack will be – right up until zero hour.
Give Us This Day is a book with enough plausibility that it will keep readers guessing what will happen next, whether they are in their living rooms or in government offices.
“The go-to guy for pure thriller reading pleasure, Tom Avitabile delivers with every word.” - New York Times bestselling author John Lescroart
Tom Avitabile, a Senior V.P./Creative Director at a New York advertising firm, is a writer, director, and producer with numerous film and television credits, a professional musician, and an amateur woodworker. He has an extensive background in engineering and computers, including work on projects for the House Committee on Science and Technology. His novel The Devil’s Quota became a Barnes and Noble #1 bestseller, as did The Eighth Day, the first installment of his Bill Hiccock “thrillogy” that includes the novels The Hammer of God and The God Particle.
“Tom Avitabile is at the top of his game.” - New York Times bestselling author Linda Fairstein on The Devil’s Quota
From Give Us This Day:
The shooter was behind a dumpster. There were four or five of the containers in one spot. She looked back and saw Nigel slumped over. She dragged his body over behind the drum by his legs. She took out her cell phone and put the camera in video mode. She rested it on the brim of the steel barrel and pointed it in the general direction of the dumpsters. She said, “Sorry Nigel” and with her foot pushed his lifeless body to the other side of the drum.
Four shots rang out, three hitting their mark making Nigel’s body dimple with each perforation.
She stopped the video and replayed it. The shots came from behind the second dumpster, the one with two hinged tops side by side. The flash came from the narrow space between the open lids and the top of the container. The shooter had a slot to shoot through from behind, which afforded him maximum protection from her return fire.
She had to think of something. Then a strategy came to mind; maybe the shooter would think that Nigel’s body was hers. In the dark he might not be able to tell the difference. Assuming he doesn’t have night vision, she thought. She listened to determine whether he was coming over to confirm the kill.
She waited but there was no sound, no movement. She looked at the video again. He was well protected. And then she saw a way.
With her shoulder screaming in pain, she lifted her clutch over the top of the barrel while she leaned over to the right side.
The shot rang out and the bullet went right through the bag. She aimed at the dumpster at a bit of an angle, right behind and to the left of the shooter. She fired three shots in rapid succession into the front of it and heard the ping of the ricochets and then a moan. She was up and running, emptying her gun as she did. One of the last shots got the shooter right in his neck as he made one last attempt, in agony, to shoot at her.
She kicked away the gun as she grabbed her shoulder. She looked down at the shooter. In the dim light she saw the flow of blood gushing from his neck lessen with death. With her foot she rolled him over on his side. There, puncturing the back of his shirt was a small bloody hole. Two… Three. She looked at the dumpster right behind and to the side of the shooter’s position. There was a shiny dent where her hollow-point jacketed 40-caliber bullet had hit and shattered into at least three fragments from the looks of it, puncturing his lung and possibly his kidney. “Thanks, Harely,” she said looking up to heaven and to her brother, who'd died in the first Gulf War. He taught her to play Eight Ball and how to play the angles by putting a little “English” on the ball.
With her back against the other dumpster she slid down onto the muddy dirt not caring about her dress. She shuddered and then lifted her head and closed her eyes. She thought of Hawaii, coaching the girls and making dinner for Mush out on the barbeque in the back of their Captain’s quarters by the palm trees. She had her hand on her shoulder; it was sticky wet with her blood. She looked over to where Nigel’s body was sprawled out; it made her mouth curl into a frown as she started to dry weep. Crying without tears. She got a hold of her emotions long enough to take out her phone and dial the FBI New York Field Office.
“This is former assistant director in charge of the New York office Burrell, on temporary assignment to FinCEN, just involved in a shooting at 10th and 37th… a construction site, two dead on the scene – down by gunshot and I, I need an ambulance. This is a national security level one priority. Silent approach, no local response, federal jurisdiction only. Authorization, Director level 07206, be advised I am in plain clothes. Alert JTTF for NYPD protocols…”