Guest Post: Davin Goodwin – PARADISE COVE

Good day, book people. I’m currently in Charlotte, North Carolina finishing up my participation at a Migraine Retreat (yes, it’s a thing and the closest I’ve come to a “vacation” in close to 12 years other than day trips). As I bid a fond farewell to all of my new acquaintances and fellow migraineurs, I’m preparing for the short drive back to West Virginia. Before I jump in my car and head north, I’m excited to welcome back, Davin Goodwin, author of Paradise Cove. Mr. Goodwin will be sharing with us an adventurous tale from one of his vacation trips to Bonaire. I hope you’ll find it intriguing. Don’t forget to add Paradise Cove to your TBR list! Thank you, Mr. Goodwin, for returning and sharing with us today. I can’t wait to learn what happened on your trip.

Guest Post

My wife, Leslie (aka Double L, short for Lovely Leslie), and I had just finished a scuba dive at a location called The Rock, our two-week vacation on the beautiful island of Bonaire half over. We stood waist-deep in the sea a few yards from shore as Leslie gently untangled hair from the buckles of her face mask, eventually sliding it up and over her head.

Wide-eyed and wearing a grin that’d make the Cheshire Cat envious, she said, “How cool was that?”

I nodded. “Nice job.”

The “cool” event had happened about twenty minutes ago in twenty feet of depth during the second portion of our dive. We were slowly swimming back to the takeout point when I spied a hawksbill turtle resting on the bottom in a bundle of soft corals. Double L floated above it, taking a few pictures, and then slid in front of the turtle, inches above the bottom, for two more.

Before taking her last photo, she tilted sideways, and stared at the base of the soft coral. The turtle seemed to be struggling. She waved me over and pointed at two of the turtle’s legs; one front and one rear. The front one was wrapped in the soft coral and the rear one was wedged in a rock.

The turtle was stuck, unable to free itself.

At that moment, I couldn’t remember what I had read regarding a turtle’s ability to hold its breath. Just like humans, it probably ranged a little depending on the individual animal. But also, just like humans, I knew it wasn’t indefinite.

The little dude was between the proverbial rock and hard place. He was going to drown.


To be honest, I was a little torn. It seemed nature had put this turtle in a predicament, and I considered letting nature take its course. Kind of like the Prime Directive in Star Trek; don’t interfere and change the outcome. Numerous other reef inhabitants would feast for days on his dead carcass. Isn’t that the way nature worked? Keeping everything in balance? If we saved this turtle, would we inadvertently throw the reef out of balance?

To coin a phrase, I was paralyzed with analysis. I decided to take the coward’s way out and wait a few more moments to see if the turtle freed itself. If not, I’d rethink.

What would Captain Kirk do?

While Star Trek scenarios ricocheted off the inside of my skull, Leslie summoned her Stephanie Plum call-to-action attitude and reached over, gently moving the branch of soft coral that snagged the turtle’s leg. And that’s all it took. The little guy sprung loose and bolted skyward. Les and I hovered above the coral and watched as it floated on the surface with its neck outstretched. After a few moments, I gave Double L an underwater high-five and we continued on our way.

Now, standing in the shallows after our dive, I figured Mother Nature owed us one. Or maybe the other way around. I’m not sure; I’m not good with Mother Nature.

“I think you deserve a burger and fries for lunch,” I said to Les.

Another high-five. “Absolutely,” she said.

# # #

A few days later, we stood at the tailgate of our four-door truck rental. We stacked our dive gear in the bed, having just finished another dive at The Rock. One more day and our vacation would come to an end.

“You want one?” Les asked. She held up an unopened Amstel Bright, condensation running down the side of the bottle onto her fingers.

“You brought beer?” I asked, which she obviously had, the question somehow seeming pointless.

We didn’t usually bring beer with us on our dive excursions fearing they’d be stolen out of the truck. Les, in all her wisdom, stashed a few inside the bag we had filled with water bottles and snacks.

Our diving for the day complete, I said, “Sure.” Then added, “You remember an opener?”

She didn’t answer, instead producing an opener from the back seat and making an exaggerated display of opening a bottle and handing it to me. Never doubt Double L!

We drank the beers while getting out of our wetsuits. Sitting on the truck tailgate, we griped to each other about tomorrow being our last day on the island. How can two weeks go by so fast?

Before getting in the truck and heading back to the resort, Les popped open two more “road pops” for the drive. Glad I brought her along.

About a mile up the road we noticed some police—or Politie in Papiamento, the native language of Bonaire—doing a random traffic stop. We’d seen several of these over the course of our stay, and word on the street was that the Police were cracking down on illegal motorists and vehicles, being more aggressive toward drunk drivers and open seals in vehicles.

We hadn’t been pulled over at the previous road checks, the Politie just waving us past. Probably something to do with us driving a rental vehicle (with AB CarRental all over it) and not wanting to harass tourists. We felt confident that we’d again get a pass.

But why take chances?

“Hide this,” I said to Double L, handing her my bottle.

“What am I supposed to do with them?” she asked.

“I don’t know. If we’re stopped, someone will come up to my window, so just hide them beside your leg the best you can.”

Les tucked the bottles between her leg and the door and covered them with her arm. I still wasn’t worried, figuring we’d be waved through.

To my surprise, an officer walked into the street and waved me to the shoulder. Uh oh, I thought.

Tall, fortyish, and in obviously good physical condition, he walked over to the driver’s side window, leaned down, and said, “Driver license, please.” His voice exuded authority and it seemed the other officers, all younger, awaited his direction and guidance. The name tag pinned to his chartreuse green safety vest read Officer Ruud. I wasn’t sure exactly how to pronounce his name, but I hoped his demeanor didn’t match the obvious pronunciation.

I dug into a pocket and produced my driver’s license. He looked it over, then looked at me.

After a short stare down, he motioned his head towards Les. “And, Mr. Goodwin,” he said, “who is the lady?” Leslie tightened. I sensed it more than I felt it and placed a hand on her forearm.

“She’s my wife, Leslie Goodwin.”

Officer Ruud looked at Leslie, then at me. “She is Double L?” he asked.

I held back a smile. “Sometimes, yes.”

He looked at Les. When he spoke, his voice was much softer, almost childlike. “You saved the turtle.” It was a statement not a question.

My smile slipped out and worked itself across my face. I found myself also looking at Les.

She nodded and simply said, “Yes.”

Officer Ruud nodded. Still looking at Les, he said, “You can pass.” He stood, barked something in Papiamento to the other officers, who all jumped to the side of the pavement. He waved us through and made a point of saying to Les, “Have a nice day. And thank you,” as we pulled forward, past the waving Politie officers.

Down the road, Double L handed me my beer. We clanked bottles and had a good laugh.

“Thanks Mother Nature,” she said. ♦

Paradise Cove

by Davin Goodwin

April 1-30, 2022 Virtual Book Tour


Paradise Cove by Dave Goodwin

Every day is paradise on Bonaire—until something unexpected washes ashore

On the laid-back island of Bonaire, every day is paradise until a seaweed-entangled human leg washes ashore. Combing the beach, retired cop Roscoe Conklin examines the scene and quickly determines that the leg belongs to the nephew of a close friend.

The island police launch an investigation, but with little evidence and no suspects, their progress comes to a frustrating halt. Then, thanks to a unique barter with the lead detective, Conklin finds himself in possession of the case file. He can now aggressively probe for his own answers.

Sifting through the scant clues, eager to bring the killer to justice, Conklin struggles to maintain forward momentum. He has all the pieces. He can feel it. But he’d better get them snapped together soon.

Otherwise, the body count will continue to rise.

Praise for Paradise Cove:

“An intriguingly gruesome beginning, sexy location, and a supremely satisfying ending. Paradise Cove is a terrific read.” —Marc Cameron, New York Times best-selling author

Paradise Cove is a wonderful thriller with a great story . . . what makes it special are the perfect descriptions of Bonaire and life on the island.” —Nicholas Harvey, author of the AJ Bailey Adventure Series

“Grab a beer and revisit Bonaire with Roscoe Conklin as your guide in Paradise Cove. A rich cast of characters and an intriguing plot guarantee an exciting trip you’ll long remember.” –Shawn Wilson, author of Relentless

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery
Published by: Oceanview Publishing
Publication Date: April 5th 2022
Number of Pages: 304
ISBN10: 1608094855
ISBN13: 9781608094851 (hardcover)
ISNB: 9781608094868 (ebook)
ASIN: B091FZVTRS (Kindle edition)
Series: Roscoe Conklin Mystery #2 | The novels in the Roscoe Conklin Mystery Series stand on their own and can be read in any order.
Purchase Links #CommissionEarned: Amazon | Amazon Kindle | Barnes and Noble | B&N Nook Book | | | | !ndigo | Kobo eBook | Goodreads

Author Bio:

Davin Goodwin

Davin Goodwin is a graduate of Arkansas State University and works in the technology industry. He’s been a small business owner, a real estate investor, an aerial photographer and flight instructor, a semi-professional banjo player, and a scuba diver, often seen on the island of Bonaire. Paradise Cove is the second novel in his Roscoe Conklin Mystery Series and he intends to continue writing the Roscoe Conklin series set on Bonaire. Goodwin lives in Madison, Wisconsin, with his wife, Leslie.

Catch Up With Davin Goodwin:
BookBub – @dgoodwin7757
Instagram – @davin_goodwin_author
Facebook – @authordavingoodwin

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Guest Author Post: Davin Goodwin – DIVER’S PARADISE

Hello, book people. I hope everyone is doing well and surviving this quarantine due to the coronavirus pandemic. I pray you’re all safe at home with your loved ones and have everything you need. I’m pleased to welcome a new author today to TBDR. Davin Goodwin is an avid diver and his debut book, appropriately named, Diver’s Paradise, was just released. Mr. Goodwin will be talking about some of his diving experiences. Thank you, Mr. Goodwin, for taking the time to stop by today and sharing with us, and I’ll now turn the blog over to you.

My wife, Leslie (also known as Double L – Lovely Leslie), and I have accumulated more than eight hundred scuba dives on the island of Bonaire. It’s our home away from home, having made thirty trips over the past twenty-one years. Bonaire is known for its pristine near-shore reef system and easy shore diving, the opportunity to don gear and walk into the water from many vantage points along the coast. Most other dive destinations require boarding a boat and motoring to a dive site, possibly several miles out to sea. This is one of the reason’s Bonaire’s moniker is Diver’s Paradise.

After one recent dive, Double L and I removed our fins, standing in the shallows of Pink Beach, a popular dive site on the southern end of the island. The high afternoon sun reflecting off the calm waters caused us to squint as we began to gingerly sidestep our way over the small rocks and coral rubble, making our way back to shore. The dive had been excellent—as they always were—both of us impressed with the amount of soft corals on the southern dive sites.

“What was that fish I pointed out to you?” I asked. “The long silver one.”

“That was a tilefish,” Leslie said.

“Oh? I’ve never seen one before.”

Mid-step, Double L stopped, shooting me with a stare as if I’d just sprouted a dorsal fin.  “They are all over the place. You’ve seen hundreds of them.”

I shrugged. “I don’t think so.”

She tilted her head to one side allowing some seawater to drain from her ear. “Yes, you have. But I’ll admit this was the biggest one I’ve ever seen.”

“Did you see the way it was looking at me? It seemed to swim up close, then kind of laugh at me before swimming away.” Leslie remained quiet, just staring at me through her mask lens. “Seriously. I think he was taunting me.”

We took a few more steps before reaching the shore. 

“It probably knows what happened at Karpata,” I said. “Word has spread through the fish community.”

“Yeah, that’s right, honey,” Leslie said. She made a distinct point in rolling her eyes. “All the fish on Bonaire have heard about The Karpata Incident. You’re famous.”

Famous? I thought. Maybe so, but not in the way I had ever dreamed. What happened at Karpata, a dive site on the northern end of the island, a few days ago has come to be known as The Karpata Incident between Double L and me. The only other witness was our friend, John “Smack” Anderson, but he wouldn’t talk. At least not now. Earlier, I’d bought his silence with a grilled cheese sandwich, some leftover French fries, and a cold beer.

For the sake of full disclosure, I’ll expound on what happened. Dr. Phil isn’t available, so I hope by telling the story, I’ll reap some level of therapeutic benefit.

Without the possibility of a drum roll, let me explain The Karpata Incident.

Over the years, I’ve done 800+ scuba dives on Bonaire. Some of my other dives include excursions on Lake Superior when fellow divers were hurling breakfast over the side of the boat. I’ve dove The Price Wilhelm, a shipwreck sitting on the bottom of Lake Michigan in 100 feet of water, typically with low visibility, strong currents, and very cold water. And I’ve dove the Karpata dive site as the sea crashed against the shore, waves tall and powerful enough to knock divers on their keisters. 

Beyond a doubt, Karpata is one of my favorite and most dived sites, having logged more than 70 dives there. The reef starts a few yards from shore and at a depth of less than fifteen feet. The undersea wall stretches to depths in the hundreds of feet and is covered with hard and soft corals, along with hundreds of species of aquatic creatures. 

The water conditions at Karpata have never intimidated me. Regardless of the conditions at Karpata—waves crashing against the shore or the surface as smooth as glass—I’ve always made the dive. And it’s always been worth the effort.

Until a few days ago.

Until The Karpata Incident.

In hindsight, conditions weren’t that bad. After helping Double L into the water, she gave me the “okay” sign and swam out to the reef drop off, a mere twenty yards from shore. Smack did the same. Other divers along the shore entered the water and seemed fine. 

But me? I can’t explain it.

In an unusual display of clumsiness, I tripped twice while donning my fins. Then, while swimming out to the reef, my left fin came unstrapped and started to float away. I scrambled to find it and strap it back on my foot. 

Breathing heavy, I swam the short distance to the reef. My lungs felt as though they were about to punch through my rib cage, my breaths deep and quick. 

I recognized the indicators of hyperventilating. Slow down, I said to myself. Steady breathes. Exhale fully. I knew the actions required to get my breathing under control, but, for some reason, they weren’t working. Not that day. I had sucked nearly twenty-five percent of my tank air and hadn’t even begun a decent.

These problems were all workable and easily overcome. But not this dive. At least not for me. I felt I had no control of my situation. And I didn’t like how that felt…..

So, I aborted the dive.

I didn’t panic. I didn’t scramble to the shore or start flipping off my mask or looking for help. I just signaled to Les and Smack that I was done, and I swam to shore. 

I was finished.

After 800+ dives, and for the first time in my life, I had aborted a dive.

The Karpata Incident was now part of my legacy……

Others have gone through a similar situation, so I know a lot of folks can relate. And it just goes to show… regardless of age, experience level, number of dives, or levels of certification, when it comes to scuba, we’re all students. 

All the time.

But now my world is upside down. For years, I was the person my group looked to for all the answers. The one with all the answers; the Sensei; the Master Jedi. 

Not any more.

The hard part will be getting back on the horse that threw me. I need to go back to Karpata and make the dive. But the image of me aborting is planted in my brain. A dark picture burned into my neurons. Bad thoughts that I need to overcome.

But I will. I know it.

Karpata is a horse I will ride again.

But for now, I’ll put the Incident in the back, cloudy recesses of my mind, filed away in some dusty area where it can’t harm me. For the time being, I’ll concentrate on more delightful thoughts.

But I’ll be facing Karpata again. And I will overcome.

Cause Leslie wouldn’t have it any other way.

Diver’s Paradise

by Davin Goodwin

on Tour April 6 – May 8, 2020


Diver's Paradise by Davin Goodwin

After 25 years on the job, Detective Roscoe Conklin trades his badge for a pair of shorts and sandals and moves to Bonaire, a small island nestled in the southern Caribbean. But the warm water, palm trees, and sunsets are derailed when his long-time police-buddy friend back home, is murdered.

Conklin dusts off a few markers and calls his old department, trolling for information. It’s slow going. No surprise, there. After all, it’s an active investigation, and his compadres back home aren’t saying a damn thing.

He’s 2,000 miles away, living in paradise. Does he really think he can help? They suggest he go to the beach and catch some rays.

For Conklin, it’s not that simple. Outside looking in? Not him. Never has been. Never will be.

When a suspicious mishap lands his significant other, Arabella, in the hospital, the island police conduct, at best, a sluggish investigation, stonewalling progress. Conklin questions the evidence and challenges the department’s methods. Something isn’t right.

Arabella wasn’t the intended target.

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery
Published by: Oceanview Publishing
Publication Date: April 7, 2020
Number of Pages: 336
ISBN: 1608093832 (ISBN13: 9781608093830)
Purchase Links: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Goodreads

Author Bio:

Davin Goodwin

My family members have always been epic storytellers. I regularly wrote short stories in high school and college and, later in life, freelanced several articles for trade and industry publications. For years, the idea of writing a novel bounced around in the back of my mind, but never found its way out of the darkness.

My wife, Leslie (Double L), and I have visited the island of Bonaire nearly 30 times over the past 20 years, many of those trips for extended periods. The island is a perfect setting for the style of novel I wanted to write. Yes, the book would be a murder mystery, but I needed a laid-back, slightly exotic setting. And I wanted the book to partially center around scuba diving, an activity Les and I enjoy together as often as possible.

During the Spring of 2010, with mild coaxing from friends and family, the concept of Diver’s Paradise came to fruition. However, after close to a year of writing, I gave up, not touching the story for almost six years. In the Spring of 2017, I pulled out the tattered manuscript, rewrote and edited till blue in the face, then endured daily heart palpitations, waiting for submission responses from agents and publishers.

Nine months after my first submission, and after agonizing through a boatload of rejections, Oceanview Publishing—to my good luck—offered a contract. I would be a published author.

Diver’s Paradise launched on April 7, 2020 in Hard Cover and eBook, followed later in paperback.

I enjoy being outdoors when the weather is nice. I don’t particularly like snow and cold weather, which can be problematic dwelling in the frigid, midwestern state of Wisconsin.

Exercise is a passion of mine, although I don’t do it as intensely as in past years. Running, biking, and swimming are my favorites. As of several years ago, golf and I decided that we can no longer be friends.

Through high school and college, I played violin in the orchestras and community ensembles. Much to the chagrin of those close to me, around the age of sixteen I was struck with an uncontrollable desire to play the 5-string banjo. And play I did.

Hours and hours a day.


In 1992, the band I played with at the time, traveled to Ukraine and performed in the International Kiev Music Festival. I’ve also performed on radio, TV, and recorded on several albums.

I’m 58 years old and live in Madison, WI. Originally from Rockford, IL, I went to college at Arkansas State University in Jonesboro, AR, graduating with a degree in Computer Science. I’m married and have one daughter and one stepson, both grown.

Professionally, I have roughly 30 years’ experience in the technology industry and currently manage a group of software developers for a local, mid-sized company. In the past, I’ve owned several small businesses, worked as an aerial photographer, a semi-professional banjo player, a flight instructor, and a real estate investor.

Future Plans: Continue the Roscoe Conklin series, hopefully, for a long time.

Catch Up With Davin Goodwin On:
BookBub – @dgoodwin7757
Facebook – @authordavingoodwin
Instagram – davin_goodwin_author

Tour Participants:

Visit these other great hosts on this tour for more great reviews, interviews, guest posts, and giveaways!


This is a Rafflecopter giveaway hosted by Partners in Crime Virtual Book Tours for Davin Goodwin. There will be 6 winners. Two (2) winners will each win (1) Gift Card; two (2) winners will each win one PRINT copy of Diver’s Paradise by Davin Goodwin (US addresses only), and two (2) winners will each receive one EBOOK copy of Diver’s Paradise by Davin Goodwin. The giveaway begins on April 6, 2020, and runs through May 9, 2020. Void where prohibited.

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