“The characters are lively, and the story is fast-paced and exciting, especially for inveterate fans of the genre.”
~ David Pitt, Booklist (January 2012)
“A new writer worth reading!”
~ Stephen Mertz, Author of Dragon Games
"Interesting, intricate, and intriguing, The Tenth Saint is an archeological puzzle the reader can’t wait to solve."
~ James O. Born, Author of Burn Zone
“Like The Da Vinci Code, The Tenth Saint takes you to a place you have never been, creating an adventure you will not soon forget.”
~ Laurence Leamer, New York Times Best-Selling Author of The Kennedy Women, The Kennedy Men, and Sons of Camelot
"An impressive and well-researched thrill-ride....Dark tombs, buried secrets, and apocalyptic prophesies, this book has it all!"
~Ronald Malfi, Author of The Ascent and Floating Staircase
“. . . The Tenth Saint is a clever and well-written story which piqued my interest and curiosity. I enjoyed the wicked twist at the end, which I thought brought everything together cleanly. I look forward to more of Ms. Niko’s writing!”
~ Bibliophilic Book Review
“Plain and simply an action-packed thriller. D.J. delivers on that and then goes a step further."
~ Gina, Loves Romances and More
“. . . fans will enjoy the exhilarating Brownian romantic suspense, which provides a fascinating look at the Coptic Christian Church (in the news of late in Egypt).”
~ Harriet Klausner, MBR Bookwatch (March 2012)
“Her descriptive powers are remarkable. Whether constructing the distant past or today, whether reproducing the foreign or the familiar, Ms. Niko brings vivid, convincing sensory detail to her settings.”
~ Phil Jason, Naples Florida Weekly (April 2012)
"With amazing descriptions, likeable characters, and a very unique story line, Niko has only begun to create a gripping series."
~ Amanda, Stains on the Page (May 8,2012)
“Fast-paced and filled with danger and action in interesting and less well-known locales, The Tenth Saint will keep readers on the edge of their seats until the end.”
~ Katherine Petersen, Fresh Fiction (August 28, 2012)
The camel trod tentatively on a patch of cracked earth. The upper crust shattered underfoot the heavily laden beast like unfired pottery broken into a thousand pieces. The camel driver, a gaunt man shrouded in indigo gauze from head to bare feet, made an urgent clicking sound and hit the animal on its hindquarters with a palm frond whip. The camel took two quick steps in reaction to the insult, then halted, groaning its displeasure. Despite repeated calls from its driver, it was going no farther and that was that. The man peeled back his headdress to uncover his face. His skin was the color of antelope hide, with deep grooves carved into his forehead and cheek hollows. The sun had taken its toll on him over the fifty years he had walked the desert. He looked like an emaciated octogenarian, tired and beaten down by life, but his eyes, pools of liquid onyx, shone with a spirit full of vigor and wisdom, the kind needed to guide a tribe of nomads through this unforgiving country. He squinted to the sky to confirm the position of the sun. It was as he thought: directly overhead. He appraised the desert around him. All that he surveyed was arid and parched. Parched like the camels and his fellow riders. The midday sun scorched without remorse, and there was no salvation—no water, no shade—in sight.
