Osprey Gold

Midwest Book Review Rocks!

Some novels entertain, while others transport readers so completely that the setting lingers in memory long after the final chapter has been closed. Thomas Lion's Osprey Gold belongs firmly in the latter category. The rugged mountains, sprawling vineyards, dense forests, and pristine waterways of Washington State are not simply picturesque scenery—they shape the story, influence every decision, and become as unforgettable as the people who inhabit them. Thomas Lyon is an engaging and thoroughly believable protagonist. His return home is far more than a physical journey; it becomes an examination of identity, forgiveness, and the complicated bonds that tie people to both family and place. Rather than portraying him as either hero or victim, Lion allows Thomas to carry the imperfections and emotional scars that make him feel genuinely human. His personal growth unfolds naturally, rewarding readers who appreciate character-driven fiction.

Kathryn Collins provides an equally memorable presence. Her warmth, intelligence, and distinctly New Zealand perspective offers a refreshing contrast to the emotional baggage surrounding Thomas's homecoming. Their relationship develops with sincerity instead of sentimentality, allowing quiet moments of humor, tenderness, and mutual respect to balance the novel's steadily escalating suspense.

Perhaps the novel's greatest accomplishment lies in its remarkable sense of place. The author describes the vineyards, osprey nesting grounds, mountain roads, wildlife, and changing seasons with the confidence of someone intimately familiar with the region. Nature serves as far more than a decorative backdrop; it reflects the emotional undercurrents of the story while reinforcing themes of stewardship, belonging, and renewal. Readers who appreciate environmental fiction will find much to admire, yet these elements never overwhelm the central narrative.

Lion also shows considerable skill in balancing multiple storylines. The author weaves family drama, psychological suspense, romance, environmental issues, political divisions, and mystery together with impressive control. Lesser novels often lose focus when juggling many themes, but Osprey Gold remains cohesive because each thread ultimately serves the larger story rather than competing for attention.

Equally noteworthy is the author's ear for dialogue. Conversations reveal personality, deepen relationships, and frequently provide subtle clues that reward attentive readers. Moments of gentle humor soften emotionally charged scenes without diminishing their impact, creating an authentic rhythm that mirrors real-life family interactions. At its heart, Osprey Gold is a novel about coming home—not simply to a place, but to truth, reconciliation, and self-discovery. It is an intelligently crafted story that combines literary depth with compelling suspense while offering thoughtful reflections on family, legacy, environmental responsibility, and the enduring influence of the places that shape our lives.

Highly recommended for readers who enjoy character-centered suspense with literary depth, Osprey Gold will appeal to fans of contemporary fiction where memorable settings, emotional authenticity, and carefully layered storytelling combine to create an exceptionally satisfying reading experience.

This book is an excellent addition to contemporary fiction collections in community and public libraries. It is also a rewarding selection for book clubs that want a novel sparking meaningful discussion long after they finish reading it.



The “true engine” of Osprey Gold is the collision of personal history, place, and human relationships under pressure — a slow-burning tension between love, loyalty, and survival that drives the narrative forward.
Author Thomas Lion has said the story began as fragments — a mountain, two estranged brothers, and a family on the brink — and evolved through years of revision, observation, and lived experience Goodreads. The novel’s core is rooted in real people, real conversations, and the emotional weight of unresolved pasts. Lion draws on his own loss of a remote vineyard to bears, and the difficult choices that followed, to ground the story in authenticity Seattle Book Review.
At its heart, Osprey Gold follows Thomas Lyon, whose estranged son returns to Osprey Mountain, a valley fractured by competing factions and deepening division Amazon. The mountain itself becomes a character — contested, symbolic, and tied to identity and belonging. The plot engine turns on how land, family, and community intersect: when local power players threaten his brother’s farm, and new arrivals seek to expand their influence, Thomas must confront both external threats and his own unresolved wounds Amazon.
Lion’s approach is character-driven realism. The story doesn’t rely on sudden plot twists but on the quiet turning points where people’s choices matter Seattle Book Review. The “true engine” is the emotional pressure that leaks into every scene — from a lookout post to a roadside stop — making intimacy feel charged with suspicion and danger losangelesbookreview.com. This pressure is sustained by the knowledge that no one arrives “cleanly” — everyone brings desire, history, and unfinished business losangelesbookreview.com.
In short, the true engine of Osprey Gold is the relentless interplay of love, loss, and territorial conflict, shaped by place and history, and driven by the need for reconciliation in a polarized world. It’s a story that moves not through calm discovery, but through the steady accumulation of menace and emotional stakes losangelesbookreview.com.





NOW LIVE ON AMAZON! NOW LIVE ON AMAZON https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0GX33F589
Subject: Final Published Details for Osprey Gold

Final Published Details
• Title: Osprey Gold • Author: Thomas Lion
• Imprint: Lion’s Share Books
• Format: 6×9 paperback
• Final Page Count: 346 pages
• Paperback Price: $20
• eBook Price: $9.99 LIVE NOW

AMAZON will offer paperbacks on demand in about a week. Ingram will distribute to booksellers in about 2 weeks. Many WA state Indie Bookstores have already accepted the book!

The final page count reflects the completed 6×9 interior layout used in the approved print proof.

Best regards, Thomas Lion Lion’s Share Books


Osprey Gold Launch Update April 11th

I have requested physical proofs in hand to approve before Osprey Gold gets posted on Amazon and is available on Ingram. This will push my launch date back to later April I was just informed. Patience is a virtue at this point as I have put too much into this book to not have the quality match the content. Will keep you informed but looks like April 28th to 30th now. This delay will allow me to have my CITY BOOK REVIEWS West Coast Blast in hand by then as well as Midwest Book and Indie Reader reviews. I have also been asked for an exclusive from a PNW Magazine for August. Hope they all see what REEDSY and Readers Favorite did and give glowing reviews!

Aloha Online Lion




Today I finished the last round of editorial reviews of my book. I finally let Osprey Gold go. I’ve read this book more times than I can count, and somehow it still moves me every single time — especially the ending. This LION laughs, and cries and even gets angry reading Osprey Gold, just as I do when watching a favorite old movie or MASH reruns. That tells me the story is whole, honest, and ready for the world. I gave this book everything I could, and the book gave something back. It became the best writing of my life — not because I forced it, but because I finally trusted my voice, my instincts, my emotional compass, and my lived experience.

KDP Amazon launch by April 10th, and the printed books will be the coup de grâce a few weeks from now.

I hope OG resonates with a myriad of readers...and flies.

Don't give up on your writing and your writing too, can fly.

Thomas Lion



I want to extend my heartfelt appreciation
to the humans and animals who inspired me
to write Osprey Gold.
You know who you are
Praise for OSPREY GOLD

READERS’ FAVORITE — ★★★★★
“Intelligently written and timely . . . with a protagonist we
can totally root for.”
“The mountain itself is such a living, breathing part of the
story that it is essentially a character in its own right.”
“Very highly recommended.”

REEDSY DISCOVERY — ★★★★★
“A must‑read. Crime, community and family fracture,
romance and redemption . . . a gripping, character‑driven
page‑turner by an author with real talent.”
“A story driven by characters as real, flawed, and loveable as
your own family.”
“A fight for identity and belonging that is rich in emotional resonance."

Chapter 1

WASHINGTON STATE

OCTOBER 2023

DUSK SETTLED in over Osprey Mountain, cloaking the gravel switchbacks in shadows. From his post inside the old fire lookout tower, Jesse focused his rifle scope on a plume of dust rising in the canyon below. A jeep’s engine strained against the steep grade. Bad timing. Jesse’s heart raced.

With a heavy sigh, he contacted the sanctuary compound.

Zara’s breathy voice, overlaid by the ethereal resonance of singing bowls, answered, “I thought you had left for the night. Missing me already?”

“Are you answering the boss’s calls?”

“Only yours,” she said, lingering on the pause. “They’re meditating. Want me to interrupt their spiritual pursuits?”

The Jeep, emerging from the riverside canyon’s concealing foliage, cast its beams across the darkness. Jesse refined his aim. “Intruders detected on the road. Deer hunters, most likely.”

“Grown men playing soldier,” Zara scoffed.

“If I don’t play soldier, they might ban me from the sanctuary.”

“We wouldn’t want that,” she snapped.

The Jeep veered toward the Lyon family’s vineyard, bypassing the sanctuary compound at the mountaintop end of Osprey Falls Road. “False alarm,” Jesse muttered. “No need to piss off the old man yet. I’ll stay up here a little longer.”

“I could bring you coffee,” Zara offered, her voice a seductive whisper. “Warm you up.”

“You wild Gypsy rebel. Want your family to catch us hanging out together?”

“Perhaps,” she replied mischievously.

Jesse lowered the rifle but kept his eyes on the valley below, where the Jeep’s headlights now illuminated the vineyard. Something about this felt wrong. The harvest wasn’t happening until tomorrow, and the Lyons never came after dark.

“Duty calls,” he said. “I’ll keep you informed.”

After the call ended, Jesse scanned the valley through his scope. Nearly three years had passed since his discharge and that disaster in DC, and he was still working security with men he didn’t trust. The Romanovs had promised him a fresh start when they bought most of Osprey Mountain from his family. A sanctuary for veterans, they’d called it. Somewhere to heal.

Screeching brakes from the road below snapped him back. The Jeep had stopped near the vineyard. He adjusted the scope. Focus on the mission.

Minutes later, the familiar scent of patchouli preceded Zara’s arrival. She’d removed her hiking boots to sneak up on him, but he’d known she was coming the moment he smelled her perfume. He should have stopped it then and there.

Instead, he acted surprised when she kicked the door open.

******

Thomas Lyon parked the rental Jeep at the edge of the rugged ravine and killed the engine. “Home sweet home.” He smiled at his passenger, whose olive skin had gone pale during the switchback climb. The scent of mountain earth and pine stirred memories he’d buried for too long. “This is tranquility.”

“This is the Wop-wops!” Kathryn’s New Zealand accent cut through the quiet as she pried her fingers from his thigh.

“I warned you it was remote,” Thomas said, stepping out to open her door. He offered his hand with an exaggerated bow. “Come on, my lady. The magical mystery tour begins now.”

“That was one hell of a drive.” She stood stiffly, shaking out her legs. “My foot’s asleep and—”

“Look,” he interrupted, gesturing west where they’d just driven for hours from Seattle.

Her hazel eyes widened as she took in the sunset-lit peaks, golden light spilling across the canyon.

“And listen.” He guided her to the shoulder, where they gazed down into the great ravine. The river’s song drifted up through the twilight.

“Lovely.” She huffed, hands on hips. “Now show me this Shangri-la vineyard homesite of yours, my blue-eyed American.”

They walked to the vineyard entrance, surprised to find the gate hanging open. Inside, rows of grapevines stretched toward the darkening sky, their leaves rustling in the breeze. The sweet-sharp smell of fermenting fruit welcomed them.

“Let’s set up camp here,” she suggested, pointing at a picnic table near the first row.

He nodded. “It will be dark soon. I’ll get the tent.”

“I’ll fetch the chili bin,” she added.

They pitched the tiny tent together in easy silence, the kind that comes from months of learning each other’s rhythms. She draped something across the tent roof—a cloth adorned with a plump brown bird beneath the New Zealand flag.

“A kiwi?” Thomas asked.

“Correct. Our flightless national bird. Thought it might make this place feel like home.”

“At least you’ve spread your wings.”

“How could I resist?” A piercing cry broke the mood. A massive bird dove toward them, banking away at the last second. Kathryn grabbed his arm. “What in the bloody hell was that?”

Thomas tilted his head back, letting out a series of sharp whistles that echoed across the vineyard. “Just one of our resident pterodactyls.” He laughed as the graceful bird circled back toward them, repeated his call perfectly, then flew off over a long row of grapes.

“So, you are a pterodactyl whisperer.”

“Osprey whisperer, my dear.” His mind drifted back in time as he watched the friendly predator land on a vineyard row trellis post. “Ospreys call this mountain home from spring until fall, then migrate south for winter. The lake, the valley, the city are all named for them.” He smiled, recalling the injured osprey he nursed back to health as a boy. After that experience, these rulers of the valley called out to him until he mastered their language. Welcome or warning, that’s what their cries had always meant.

“Earth to Thomas,” she said, tugging his hand.

He pulled her close, crooning softly, “Whenever I’m deep inside of me, don’t get too concerned.”

“How’d you end up being a walking jukebox of ancient tunes?”

“Mom and Dad’s vinyl collection. Got burned into my brain like all their old-style thinking.” Thomas gazed up at the emerging stars, remembering endless summer nights on this same slope. “Some things never grow old. Maybe I was born a couple of decades too late.”

Her finger pressed against his lips. “You’re drifting again.”

“That bird just welcomed me home.” He squeezed her hand. “Good omen. Take a walk with me.”

Moments later the osprey cried out again—sharper this time—as they walked between rows of Malbec grapes, tasting a few. Thomas froze. Fresh scat marked the dirt path. Tiny paw prints. Something rustled in the torn bird netting ahead.

“Yo bear! Go bear!” His shout echoed across the vineyard. Two frightened bear cubs bolted from the vines and scrambled toward the fence line. Thomas guided Kathryn back toward their tent, moving deliberately, calmly.

“Crikey! Those were bears!”

“Welcome to the wild side of wine country.” He pulled her close, feeling her heart racing. “Just grin and bear it.”

“Wee bears! Would they attack people?”

“Maybe Kiwis,” he kidded her. “Although I do believe you’re too svelte to be much of a meal.” He ran his fingers through her long dark hair. “Want the truth, my svelte Kiwi Kat?”

“Yes, please. Always, just as we agreed.”

“Not without provocation, unless of course you get between a mom and her cubs. These gentle black bears have roamed this mountain forever.”

“What do they eat?”

“Grass. Wild berries. Grapes. Anything to fatten up before winter hibernation.”

“What about the harvest tomorrow? Seems a worry to me.” She took a deep breath.

“Someone left the gate open, and a couple of curious cubs got in. No worries, babe. It would take an army of bears to eat this crop. It’s just nature.”

Kathryn exhaled. “Quite an experience indeed. Never see that living in my island nation.”

“I promised you adventure,” he said, walking away toward the Jeep. “I’ll bring our rig into the vineyard and park by the tent. You rustle up some snacks.”

“Sounds like a plan,” she replied.

Minutes later, Kathryn arranged crackers, cheese, and quince paste on the picnic table beside the flickering camp light, watching Thomas retrieve a special treat from the Jeep. She held a cracker to his lips as he uncorked a bottle of wine.

Thomas poured a taste into a plastic cup and handed it to her. As she sipped with delight, he gestured toward a nearby open space. “Well, what do you think of it?”

“Very sweet of you,” she said, pointing out the 1987 vintage on the label. “My birth year.”

“Not the wine.” He cleared his throat. He had brought her here a day earlier than he told his parents so she could get a feel for the land before the inevitable stress of meeting the family. “What do you think of this place?”

Kathryn sat with her arms folded atop her knees, scanning the meadow and beyond where the curvy bays of Lake Osprey shimmered in emerging moonlight. She turned to him and frowned.

He filled her cup and placed a hand on her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m detecting something,” she said, blinking her eyes. She tapped her forehead. “It’s getting clearer now.” She jumped up, whirled around, and pointed. “Over there!”

“Where? I can’t see anything.” Thomas bit his lip.

She grabbed his hand.

He felt her trembling. “You’re afraid. Is it the bears?” He took a deep breath.

She shook her head and sighed. “I see a log cabin rising over there in that peaceful meadow. And yes, I am afraid. I see mornings with coffee on a porch. I see . . . everything you promised.” Her voice caught. “I’m afraid I’ve found my calling. I love it here.”

Thomas exhaled. “I don’t make many promises these days but aim to keep the ones I do.” He brought her here for a test some small dark part of him hoped she would fail. Now, to his great surprise, she loved the homesite, for which the biggest part of him was greatly relieved.

A meteor streaked across the infinite autumn sky, fading into the twinkling eastern lights of Osprey City. They made wishes, drank the wine, and toasted their good fortune of having found each other. He drew her close, and they twirled slowly in a magical dance that ended making love in a tiny tent beneath a million stars.

Later, intoxicated by her presence, he stroked her hair, humming a well-known love song. He paused, wondering if he was finally ready to overcome his fear of commitment. And then he sang words he doubted he might ever sing. “I love you just the way you are.”

He watched her look at the stars, then heard her whisper, “Thanks for granting my wish.” He covered her with a blanket, feeling the warmth of her against him, and let himself believe—for the first time in years—that coming home was possible. “Stay close to me.”

“No need to ask. Life is good, my Thomas,” she whispered before fading away.

Under the spell of afterglow, Thomas hoped she slept deep and fast in a place where she felt safe and sure he was the one, and Osprey Mountain was the great adventure missing in her life.

But as he drifted toward sleep, something deep inside of him knew hearing the ospreys’ warnings and seeing cubs without momma bear was anything but normal in this place where nothing happened out of the natural world order without human interference.

******

Jesse broke free from Zara’s grasp and wiped fog from the lookout window. He clutched a pair of binoculars, studying the tent in the vineyard below—the foreign flag draped across its roof, catching his gaze.

“Why are you so distracted?” Zara asked, striking a pose.

“It’s my job.”

“Is the woman you’re watching attractive?”

“Hard to tell from this distance.” Jesse huffed. “Might need to do a closer inspection.”

She muttered something in Romanian and slapped his hand.

“Time for you to put on them fancy pajamas and get back home to papa, princess.”

“That place is not home,” she replied with a pouty face. “It is a prison. And that man is not my papa.” Zara finished dressing and leaned toward the exit. “Give me half an hour,” she said as she disappeared down the stairs, “then he will call.”

After she left, Jesse focused night vision binoculars on the visitors’ camp. The man emerged from the tent, shining a flashlight toward the distant fence line.

Stay put, buddy. Mind your own damn business.

The woman stepped out—moonlight catching her nude silhouette—and took the man’s hand. They returned to the tent, and the light went out.

Jesse sighed. This guy looks familiar, he was thinking when his ringtone summoned him.

“Report,” ordered the deep voice of the caller. “Zara tells me you checked in.”

“We have campers in the vineyard. Probably here for tomorrow’s harvest,” Jesse said. “They pitched a tent just inside the gate.”

“Are you absolutely certain of that location?”

“Yes, sir.” Jesse paused, listening to the heavy breath on the other end. “I know that’s not what you want to hear. Especially tonight. But they haven’t gone near the upper fence line.” Silence stretched between them. Coyotes yipped from afar. An owl called out to its mate from the giant ponderosa pine by the lookout tower window.

“They’re in harm’s way,” Jesse added.

More silence. Then: “Extract them at dawn. If you fail, I’ll have my men pay them a visit.”

“No need for that, sir. They pose no threat.”

A long pause. Then, in a softer voice: “Have a blessed night, Parker.”

******

Jesse James Parker packed his duffel bag and made his way to his dual-wheel Dodge Ram 3500 truck. As he placed his rifle in the gun rack, he noticed a fog bank moving up the mountain from the lake and smiled. He selected his favorite country song from his playlist, put a lighter to his glass pipe, and took a deep puff of Mango Tango, his latest therapeutic cannabis strain.

After cranking up the volume and exhaling, Jesse navigated the treacherous curves of Osprey Falls Road with practiced ease, headlights off, guided only by moonlight and muscle memory, just for the rush.

And all the way down the winding road, he wondered if the man in that tent was the prodigal Lyon son, finally returning to stake his claim on a mountain kingdom that Maximous Romanov now controlled.



******