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Archive for the ‘Excerpt’ Category

Sister Dear ~ A Domestic Suspense by Laura McNeill

Posted: April 26, 2016 in Blog Tour, Excerpt, suspense
Tags: Author Laura McNeill, domestic suspense, excerpt, Sister Dear

A Domestic Suspense To Die For! Well, if that doesn’t grab you, I’m sure the excerpt will.

Come on in and check out Sister Dear by Laura McNeill.

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Title: Sister Dear
Author: Laura McNeill
Publisher: HarperCollins/Thomas Nelson
Pages: 336
Genre: Domestic Suspense

Synopsis

All Allie Marshall wants is a fresh start. But when dark secrets refuse to stay buried, will her chance at a new life be shattered forever?

Convicted of a crime she didn’t commit, Allie watched a decade of her life vanish. Now, out on parole, Allie is determined to clear her name and reconnect with the daughter she barely knows.

But Allie’s return to Brunswick, Georgia, sends earthquakes through the small, coastal community. Even her daughter Caroline, now a teenager, challenges Allie’s claims of innocence.

Refusing defeat, a stronger, smarter Allie launches a campaign for the truth, digging deep into the past. Her investigation threatens her parole status, her own safety, and the already-fragile bond with her family. What Allie uncovers is far worse than she imagined. Her own sister has been hiding a dark secret—one that holds the key to Allie’s freedom.

For More Information

Sister Dear is available at Amazon.
Pick up your copy at Barnes & Noble.

Discuss this book at PUYB Virtual Book Club at Goodreads

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Book Excerpt:

In her final minutes as an inmate at Arrendale State Prison, Allie Marshall’s body pulsed with tension. Eyes averted, managing any movements with robotic precision, she remained on guard.

Only moments to go.

A sliver of time. Not even a quarter hour. An unremarkable measurement, when held up against the billion other moments in any person’s natural life. But after a decade inside, those last twelve minutes seemed the longest span in all of eternity.

To her right, rows of monitors blinked and recorded everything across the sprawling campus in Habersham County. Though the angles differed, the subject never changed: women in identical tan-collared shirts and shapeless pants. Inmates on work detail, in the cafeteria, in dormitories.

A corrections officer sat nearby, her pale-blue eyes scanning the screens. To this worker, to all of them, Allie was GDC ID, followed by ten numbers. Nothing more. Inside the thick metal bars, Allie’s life was suspended, a delicate fossil in amber.

Until now. Ten more minutes.

Her reflection stared back, unblinking, in the shatterproof glass window near the door. Green eyes flecked with gold, dark-blonde hair tucked in a loose ponytail, barely visible brackets at the corners of her lips.

Maybe, Allie thought, she’d forgotten how to smile and laugh. Happiness seemed unreachable, as if the feeling itself existed on the summit of an ice-tipped mountain shrouded by storm clouds. Indeed, the rush of pure, unadulterated joy belonged only to those with freedom. Allie’s memories of it—her daughter’s birth, Caroline’s first smile, first steps—were fleeting and distant.

Instead, the perpetual motion of prison, the waking, sleeping, and sameness, all blended together, like a silent black-and-white movie on a continuous loop.

Until the news of her parole.

At first, the concept of liberty seemed impossible—a hand trying to catch and hold vapor. The judge had sentenced Allie to sixteen years, and she fully anticipated serving each and every one of them. She didn’t believe she’d be granted an early release—she couldn’t—until she stepped beyond the walls and barbed wire and chain-link fence, barriers that kept her from everyone and everything she’d ever loved.

Allie focused on breathing, stretching her lungs, exhaling to slow her pulse. Her own belongings, a decade old, lay nearby. Keys that wouldn’t open doors. A watch with a dead battery. A light khaki jacket with a photo of then five-year-old Caroline tucked in the pocket, one pair of broken-in Levis, and a white cotton shirt. Gingerly, with her fingertips, she reached for the clothing, then gripped the bundle tight to her chest.

A second guard motioned for Allie to change quickly in a holding room. With the door shut, she pulled the shapeless prison garb over her head and picked up the shirt. The material, cool and light, brushed against her skin like gauze. Allie shivered.

For ten years, all she’d known was the rasp of her standard-issue navy jacket, the scrape of her worn white tennis shoes along the sidewalk.

Back in Brunswick, Allie had filled her closet with easy summer shifts and crisp linen pants. Now her body was different too—the soft curves had dissolved, leaving lean muscle behind. The jeans hung loosely around her waist and hips. The top billowed out in waves from her shoulders.

Nothing would fit, she reminded herself. Not much in her past life would.

And that was all right.

When she walked out of Lee Arrendale State Prison, home to thousands of female inmates, Allie didn’t want reminders. No indigo tattoo inked down her back or neck. No numbers or symbols etched into her arms or fingers. The only external validation of time served was a faint scar that traced her eyebrow.

The real proof of her internment lay underneath it all. Below the seashell white of Allie’s skin, hidden in blood, tendons, and muscle, the experience indelibly marked on her soul. An imprint made by incident, mistake, and tragedy.

Evidence, and lack of it.

“I’m innocent,” she’d insisted to everyone who would listen. Her lawyers fought hard, rallied a few times, but in the end, the jury convicted her. Voluntary manslaughter.

A year later, Allie’s appeal failed. Then money ran out. Her father turned his attention back to his veterinary practice after his cardiologist warned the stress of another trial might kill him. Her mother did her best to minimize worry while Emma, her tempestuous and fun-loving sister, assumed the role of doting aunt and guardian to Caroline.

And there was Ben. Sweet, thoughtful Ben. The man who’d wanted to marry her, who said he would love her always. Even after her arrest, he’d promised to wait for her if the worst happened. Allie couldn’t live with herself if he’d sacrificed everything—his rising political career, his reputation, and his life for a decade or more. She’d broken it off, knowing it would wound him terribly. When he’d finally left, when she saw him for the last time, it was as if the very core of her being had been torn away, leaving a vast, gaping emptiness she couldn’t fill, despite how hard she tried. Allie closed her eyes. She’s convinced herself it was the logical thing, what made sense. She had done her best to forget him. It hadn’t worked in the least.

The days and months blurred. Entire seasons dissolved, shapeless and gray, like the ink of fine calligraphy smeared by the rain.

The squawk of the prison intercom barely registered in Allie’s brain. Sharp insults and threats were routine, eruptions of violence expected. Even along the brown scrub grass and wooden benches of the prison yard, there was no escape. Allie always tried to disappear—pressing her body close to the concrete walls, becoming a chameleon against the barren landscape.

The women in Arrendale weren’t afraid of punishment; most had nothing left. Some bonded with other inmates for favors; others paid for protection with cigarettes, food, and stamps. For those prisoners who had lost everything; inmates with little hope of parole, life was almost unthinkable.

Clutching her hands in her lap to keep from shaking, Allie watched as a woman collapsed in the cafeteria, stabbed in the jugular with a plastic fork. The next week, a fellow inmate in her dormitory was choked to death, purple fingerprints visible on the woman’s throat when the guards discovered her body. Allie was haunted with grief for weeks after a young girl, only four years older than Caroline, tried to hang herself with a scrap of fabric.

Despite it all, despite the desperation that seemed to permeate the very air she breathed, Allie had survived.

In another few minutes, her younger sister, Emma, would arrive, as bus service didn’t run from Alto to Brunswick. Tomorrow she’d meet her parole officer at noon. And like every parolee, she would receive a check, courtesy of the Georgia Department of Corrections, enough to buy shampoo, a bar of soap, and a comb for her hair.

Allie blinked up at the clock, almost afraid the time might start going backward. She forced her eyes away, squeezed them shut. If she tried hard enough, her mind formed a picture of her grown daughter’s face. In her daydreams, she’d imagined their reunion a million times, rehearsed every possible scenario. She worried about the right words to say, how to act, and whether it was all right to cry. The enormity of it was impossible to contain, like holding back the ocean with a single fingertip.

All that mattered now was seeing Caroline.

The buzzer sounded long and loud; its vibration shook the floor. The burly guard sighed and lumbered to her boot-clad feet. She stood inches from Allie’s shoulder, her breath hot and rank from a half-eaten roast beef sandwich.

Locks clicked and keys rattled. The barrier, with its heavy bars, groaned under its own weight. An inch at a time, the metal gate heaved open. Soon, there would be nothing but empty space standing between Allie and the rest of the world.

She felt a nudge.

In that moment, Allie heard four words, precious and sweet.

“You’re free to go.”

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Author Laura McNeil

Laura McNeil

Laura McNeil is a writer, mom, travel enthusiast, and coffee drinker. In her former life, she was a television news anchor for CBS News affiliates in New York and Alabama. Laura holds a master’s degree in journalism from The Ohio State University and is completing a Ph.D. in Instructional Leadership at the University of Alabama. When she’s not writing and doing homework, she enjoys running, yoga, and spending time at the beach. She lives in Northern Alabama with her family.

Her latest book is the domestic suspense, Sister Dear.

For More Information

Visit Laura McNeil’s website.
Connect with Laura on Facebook and Twitter.
Find out more about Laura at Goodreads.

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For a list of my reviews go HERE

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Witch Of The Cards ~ Teaser and Giveaway

Posted: March 30, 2016 in Excerpt, giveaways, Paranormal or fantasy, suspense
Tags: Bewitching Book Tours, giveaway, historical, paranormal, suspense, Witch of the Cards by Caroline Stine

Witch of the Cards

by Catherine Stine

29416179

Genre: paranormal historical suspense

Publisher: Konjur Road Press

Date of Publication: March 16, 2016

ISBN 13: 978-0-9848282-6-5

ISBN-10: 0-9848282-6-5

ISBN 13: 978-0-9848282-7-2

ISBN 10: 0-9848282-7-3

Number of pages: 265

Word Count: 76K

Cover Artist: Mae I Designs

Book Description:

Fiera was born a sea witch with no inkling of her power. And now it might be too late.

Witch of the Cards is historical, supernatural romantic suspense set in 1932 on the Jersey shore. Twenty-two year-old Fiera has recently left the Brooklyn orphanage where she was raised, and works in Manhattan as a nanny. She gets a lucky break when her boss pays for her short vacation in Asbury Park. One evening, Fiera and her new friend Dulcie wander down the boardwalk and into Peter Dune’s Tarot & Séance, where they attend a card reading.

Fiera has always had an unsettling ability to know things before they happen and sense people’s hidden agendas. She longs to either find out the origin of her powers or else banish them because as is, they make her feel crazy. When, during the reading, her energies somehow bond with Peter Dune’s and form an undeniable ethereal force, a chain of revelations and dangerous events begin to unspool. For one, Fiera finds out she is a witch from a powerful sea clan, but that someone is out to stop her blossoming power forever. And though she is falling in love with Peter, he also has a secret side. He’s no card reader, but a private detective working to expose mediums. Despite this terrible betrayal, Fiera must make the choice to save Peter from a tragic Morro Cruise boat fire, or let him perish with his fellow investigators. Told in alternating viewpoints, we hear Fiera and Peter each struggle against their deep attraction. Secrets, lies, even murder, lace this dark fantasy.

Witch of the Cards teaser 3

Enjoy the Excerpt

The absinthe put me in a dreamy state. Added to the mix was the sensual comfort of sitting next to Peter, who served as a buffer between Alyse and me.

Somewhere in the room, a chorus of faint voices floated around, high and sweet. Or was the sound merely in my head? How could it be? Peter asked me a question, but it took three repetitions for me to understand him over the low-slung jazz notes infused with the chorus of invisible soprano cherubs singing at me.

“Have you always had a talent for the unseen?” I heard him ask.

“Whatever do you mean? It was you who saw things that weren’t there.” I had to right myself because I found myself swooning so much I nearly fell into Peter’s lap.

“But it was you who eked it out of me.”

“Little old me?” I giggled.

“Yes, you,” Alyse agreed. “I was there, too. You have some strange talent. Can you describe how it works? You must be aware of it.”

Everything was turning light and frothy like a magical cake icing. The barkeep was chatting up the fellows at his counter, the card players exhaled in cheery gusts of laughter, and the waitresses flounced around like so many sunny meadow flowers. I didn’t see the harm. “I do sense things. Always have.”

“What kind of things?” Peter and Alyse asked in tandem. Their unexpected accord matched the soprano voices singing harmoniously in and around my head.

I giggled again. “Do you hear them?”

“Hear what?” Peter looked around, spooked.

“Children, little voices.”

Alyse’s brows creased. “What are they saying?”

“They’re singing.” But the entire mood of the room had changed in an instant. Their radiant energy soured. The children of the ether weren’t singing any more. They were starting to weep, over something very sad.

Over me.

How did I know this? No idea. A hard frost shot through my bones. I took a big gulp of the absinthe. Perhaps it would block out the voices, the wailing of innocents.

“What is it?” Peter took my hand. His concerned touch cut through the horrible, chilling ache and melted me. “What’s the matter, Fiera?” His face paled, and right then, I knew he heard them too. “They’re crying, aren’t they?” he whispered in my ear, tickling my soft lobe. “Crying over you.”

“Yes.” I leaned on him, letting the voices cry for me.

We hugged and I swear I felt his sudden, hot tears melt through the shoulder fabric of my dress. It was infinitely sad, infinitely tender.

The invisible cherubs whirring inside my head took translucent form and slipped out of me. They soared around the room like hardscrabble angels, flitting past Dulcie as she danced; sliding, their soft baby feet gliding over the long bar counter, and right through the man with the hookah. He glanced up for a moment as if he, too, felt the supernatural breeze. Then he bowed his head back down and took a pensive draw on his smoking device. Eyes closed, I saw green paisleys and floating leaves, the rushing of a cold stream bubbling under me, which filled me with terror. I came to with a gasp.

“What is it?” Alyse asked. How could I tell her of this suffering, shot through with spectacular floating objects, and my strange, sudden affinity with Mr. Dune?

“I see children weeping,” I admitted. “They’ve been hurt.”

“How?” Her voice grew anxious.

I silently asked them. “They’re babies. They can’t say.”

When I looked over at Peter, it was obvious he was in the same deep trance he’d been in when we first met. His eyes were glazed as if whatever he was experiencing was far from this basement speakeasy. “What is it? What do you see?” I whispered.

“They’re fading. They’re dying. They’re being—”

“Snap out of it, Mr. Dune.” Alyse gave him a stern shaking. “You’ve had too much absinthe.”

“It’s not that!” I insisted.

“Then tell me what it is, Fiera,” she said.

“It’s a vision. Of something real from long ago.”

“How long ago?”

“As long ago as there is a long ago.” I sounded ridiculous. Alyse Bone was right. The absinthe was crazy making. Or was it the taffy? I leaned into Peter’s limp shoulder, reached over and shook him, too, but with more patience than Alyse had.

His eyes fluttered open, and he gazed at me with that same calm as when he awoke after the séance. As before, his expression was clear of emotion, blissfully unaware of what he’d whispered to me minutes ago.

“Well, there you are,” he slurred. “You look positively ravishing. Dance?”

“Thanks, don’t mind if I do.” I bumbled to my feet.

“You two really drank the coffin varnish.” Alyse gave an unbecoming snort as she rose and drifted away.

Perhaps I was too far-gone, but I didn’t care. Peter and I danced and danced. The speakeasy filled with the overflow from the convention hall dance—young lovers, bootleggers with wide ties and cigars, older women with twinkling earrings and heavy bosoms, even a prostitute or two. They wore too much rouge and sat brazenly up at the bar with the gin rummies.

This time, I couldn’t say whether I stepped on Mr. Dune’s polished wingtips. He probably couldn’t be sure if he knocked his bony legs into mine. We had more nips of absinthe, and I wolfed down another green-swirl taffy. Before I knew it, I was leaning provocatively against Peter and laughing like a wild banshee.

I remember gaping up at him to see his black hair all disheveled and him indistinctly mumbling. And thinking that he was the most gorgeous human being I’d ever seen. I remember Peter and I howling at the crescent moon over the ocean, and the shocked sideways glance of the hotel proprietor as we stumbled in.

I recall pulling out the Tarot, and laying them out on my rug. I recall babbling at him—about a witch and a swindler and a boat. I can still picture his expression of shocked surprise.

And I remember Peter’s lips branding my forehead—how could I ever forget that—while shocks of his lush black hair dangled deliciously on my burning cheeks. The last thing I recall before things went dark was kicking off my shoes.

About Author Catherine Stine:

Catherine Stine

Catherine Stine’s novels span the range from futuristic to supernatural to contemporary. Her YA sci-fi thrillers Fireseed One and Ruby’s Fire are Amazon bestsellers and indie award winners. Her YA, Dorianna won Best Horror Book in the Kindle Hub Awards. Heart in a Box, her contemporary YA was an Amazon Hot New Release in Teen and Alternative Family for over eight weeks. She also writes romance as Kitsy Clare. Her Art of Love series includes Model Position and Private Internship. Book three, Girl and the Gamer, launches this summer. She suspects her love of dark fantasy came from her father reading Edgar Allen Poe to her as a child, and her love of contemporary fiction comes from being a jubilant realist. To unwind she loves to watch “bad” reality TV and travel to offbeat places.

Website / Newsletter / Blog

Pinterest / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter

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giveaway photo: Giveaway Banner for 42nd giveaway.png

Tour giveaway

One $40 gift card, two hand-painted heart-boxes (by Catherine) with secret treasure inside, one signed paperback of Dorianna by Catherine Stine, one signed paperback of Witch of the Cards by Catherine Stine, one brand new collector Tarot deck along with an envelope full of special swag!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

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For a list of my reviews go HERE

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#SplinteredBlast ~ Splintered by Kelly Miller ~ A Psychological Thriller

Posted: March 24, 2016 in Book Blast, Excerpt, thriller
Tags: Author Kelly Miller, crime fiction, fuonlyknew, Laura Thomas, psychological thriller, Splintered

Has she already fallen prey to the vicious stranger hunting her?

Publication Date: Jan 26, 2016

Genre: Psychological Thriller/Crime Fiction

Life turns from barely tolerable to complete hell when Maddy Eastin’s impulsive plan to win back the attention of her absentee father backfires. Word of her scheme spreads through her high school, but when mockery escalates to cyberbullying, Maddy and her failed stunt become headline news. But the worst is yet to come…

A disturbed man is fighting the overwhelming urge to surrender to his true nature—a moral code molded by a sadistic father who taught him that a girl needs proper training to become the perfect subservient woman. As he watches Maddy on the evening news, his already fractured psyche completely splinters. She’s the girl he’s been waiting for.

When Maddy disappears, she’s labeled a runaway even though her mother believes it was foul play. Will the two detectives investigating Maddy’s disappearance find her before it’s too late? Or has she already fallen prey to the vicious stranger hunting her?

This psychological thriller unfolds through the viewpoints of five deeply flawed characters. Each is on their own emotionally charged journey that ultimately intersects in a collision course of devastating consequences.

Amazon

GoodReads

Enjoy this Excerpt

Lily unlocked the craft store’s two front doors, then stood aside to allow a couple of impatient women to enter.

Gotta get your early morning scrapbooking fix, don’t you, ladies?

She forced the biting retort to stay firmly in her mind. Outwardly, she smiled, greeting the women, who were already racing down the center aisle.

When did I become so bitter?

Lily had always thought of herself as a pleasant person, the type to consider another person’s feelings over her own. She believed she was the sort of friend others wanted in their corner. One who would roll up her sleeves and jump in during the tough times. So how was it that she could deal with other people’s problems so well, yet completely fall apart during the rough patches in her own life?

It seemed to her that having single-mom status thrust upon her had been the tipping point. She didn’t know how other women did it. There was no time to grieve over a spouse walking out when every waking moment was either spent trying to earn enough income to keep their whole house of cards from crashing down or being an emotional cheerleader for Maddy in order to get her through.

When Tom had still been part of the family, at least there had been someone else to pass the baton to once in a while. He may have travelled a lot with his job, but whenever he was home, he and Maddy were always together. Those were the times Lily could take a break. Take time for herself, to recharge and in turn have something to offer back to her family. Lily had been running on empty for so long now, she had nothing left to give.

At least I don’t have to listen to someone constantly belittle me anymore.

She was glad for that, but still felt sad when she thought about no longer having a man in her life who loved her. She didn’t know which was worse—Tom’s stinging verbal attacks or being alone.

What would happen if I just sat in the middle of this store and refused to move?

Lily cracked a smile as she pictured herself plopping down on the floor in full tantrum mode.

Maddy got to do it, why can’t I?

Kelly Miller grew up shivering in Illinois but now enjoys the year-round sunshine in Tampa, FL. Her debut novel, “Dead Like Me,” won second place in the best mystery category of the 2011 FWA Royal Palm Literary Awards competition. It was also named a semi-finalist in the mystery category of The Kindle Book Review’s 2013 Best Indie Books Awards competition. The Detective Kate Springer series continues with the second book, “Deadly Fantasies.” In Kelly’s newest book, “Splintered” which is a 2015 Kindle Scout winner, she introduces her readers to a whole new cast of characters. Visit www.kellymillerauthor.com to get a glimpse into the inner workings of her writing life.

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What did you think of that excerpt? Sound like something you’d enjoy?

I love psychological thrillers. Getting into peoples minds. Reading about what makes them tick.

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For a list of my reviews go HERE

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Cover Reveal ~ Wingdog: Soul Pup, A Magical Mutt Memoir by Janelle Jalbert

Posted: February 16, 2016 in Cover Reveal, Excerpt
Tags: Author Janelle Jalbert, cover reveal, dog, memoir, Wingdog

It’s a thrill to be hosting Janelle Jalbert’s WINGDOG: Soul Pup, A Magical Mutt Memoir Cover Reveal Today!

Such a sweet cover. Sroll down to learn more!

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About the Book:

Title: WINGDOG: SOUL PUP, A MAGICAL MUTT MEMOIR
Author: Janelle Jalbert
Publisher: Synchron8 Publishing
Pages: 359
Genre: Memoir

It’s love at first sight…for both of them. An abandoned yet tenacious pup with one blue eye and one brown eye beats the odds and is enlisted as one woman’s WINGDOG. It’s a role he takes seriously, but he knows that his human needs more than just another set of eyes and ears. He must show her how to laugh and how to love again. His loyalty knows no bounds, and he takes his duties seriously riding shotgun as the pair travel life’s highway.

A dog may be man’s best friend, but the truth is…A WINGDOG is truly a woman’s gift.
For readers who enjoy contemporary canine classics such as MARLEY & ME, THE ART OF RACING IN THE RAIN, and A DOG’S PURPOSE, Janelle Jalbert’s ‘Magical Mutt Memoir’ combines the best of these storytelling traditions. Told as a memoir – adhering to how events unfolded – one woman seeks establish a new life after moving across the country from California to North Carolina.

Her chance at a new normal arrives in the form of Goose, a pup that melts not only her heart but also the hearts of everyone that he meets. As they travel coast-to-coast and places in between, the bond that the two share proves that love and loyalty can transcend even the greatest of obstacles.

WINGDOG: SOUL PUP is a heart-warming, emotional – and oftentimes comical – tale of how one pup becomes the consummate WINGDOG only to transform into the ultimate Soul Pup.

For More Information

WINGDOG: Soul Pup, A Magical Mutt Memoir is available at Amazon.

Book Excerpt:

First Date

Yes, I slept with him on our first date. It felt so good to have his warm body against mine. He was gorgeous and sweet as slumber set in, and I couldn’t help but curl up closer. We were already doing our own version of spooning, just hours after meeting. Everything was once again right with the world thanks to his warmth by my side. It was a case of love at first sight that grew deeper in the darkness of the bedroom around us.

I couldn’t help but run my fingers through his fur as his brindled coat rose and fell with deep, sleep-filled breathing. His fur was the perfect texture, not too course but without fluff. The hairs behind his bouncy ears were already my favorite, so silky fine. He sighed as I continued rubbing up and down his side before once more scratching behind his ear. With the ear rubs, he pushed closer into me. His sixteen pound body firmly tucked at my hip.
Ah, I’m home.

I wasn’t sure if it was my thought because it could have easily come from the pup at my side. For the first time in weeks, I began to doze off, peaceful and content. The neighbor problems that plagued my previous weeks faded away with his comforting presence.

Sometimes it does all work out. Bad things can lead to great opportunities.

The stress of moving from California to North Carolina evaporated. The distress that plagued me eased. It was what I’d been craving: a chance to forget and to enjoy life again. It was what my soul needed. I sighed and let go. All was good, at last.

* * *

The day started like most of late when I got sidetracked by my inbox after clicking on the message. A small, brown puppy snuggled face-to-face with a tabby kitten appeared. The expression in the picture wasn’t curiosity. It was more like a big brother protecting a younger sibling. The other picture was of the same puppy looking up at the camera. His brown ears were as big as his head. The look in his eyes was that of questioning intelligence, and only the slightest hint of his blue left eye opposite the brown one showed. He seemed to know it was not simply a picture being taken.

It took less than thirty seconds. I was in love.

Immediately, I hit reply. He’s adorable. I’d love to meet him!

With that, a flurry of emails was exchanged. I rushed out into the silvery, fall day, filled with clouds. I stopped at the ATM before getting on the highway for the trip down to Rock Hill from Charlotte. It felt odd to pull money out to buy a dog. Granted, I rescued pups before, but this felt different. Then, it hit me. There’s something not all together right about exchanging money for a living creature’s spirit, and that thought caught me off guard.
“What’s that all about?” I muttered as I turned down the onramp to Highway 85, heading south. I shook off the feeling with the thought that it helped pay for his care rather than buying him per say.

As I made the transition to the 77 near uptown Charlotte, I started thinking of names for the pup. Angie named him ‘Ace of Spades’ or Ace for ease, but that wasn’t right. I knew that instantly. My dogs have always named themselves. He’ll let me know. I thought, but still names flitted through my mind.

What do I want from all this? That made me laugh. It’s a dog adoption, not a marriage. The truth was already apparent. This was going to be bigger than a simple custody transfer. The anxiety over recent events with neighbors at my apartment complex threatened to rear up again. I needed someone…something…to help watch my back. I wanted a right-hand man…a wingman…or, in this case, a ‘wingdog’.

That’s it! Goose. Like the wingman in Top Gun, he’d be my extra pair of eyes and ears. I loved it immediately and settled on it before remembering that the dog does the choosing.

“Okay, just keep it in mind,” I mumbled as I got off the highway and made a convoluted trip to the apartment. I texted Angie from the parking lot because I couldn’t make sense of the numbers in the complex, so she agreed to bring him down to meet me. I waited in the car for a few minutes, laughing at myself for having a bit of ‘first date’ jitters about meeting a puppy.

They seemed to appear out of nowhere and stopped at the end of the walkway.

I got out, and as soon as I cleared the bumper, he spotted me. It was magic – a connection in an instant – as he leapt towards me despite his leash. His eyes lit up like I’m sure mine did. With a big smile and open arms, I walked up to him at Angie’s side and said hello. He barely reached my kneecap, but his eyes were wide and bright. I dropped to my knee. Given my earlier thoughts about marriage, I chuckled and shook my head to clear the whole proposal analogy from my head. He nuzzled into me immediately and toppled me onto my rear.
Who are YOU? I haven’t seen you before. He did a once over with his nose. Yep, you smell nice. You’re a good one. How ya doin’?

I smiled ear to ear as I situated myself, sitting cross-legged so the little guy could sniff away at will. If that isn’t an enthusiastic yes, I don’t know what is. My heart swelled as his furry little body shivered with excitement. His wild tail matched the leaping in my chest. I looked into his wide, trusting eyes: one brown, the other blue. It was a match. You choose me too! I thought as I wrapped my arms around the brindled bundle showering me in warm wet pup kisses.

“We found him on the highway. He was in bad shape, but we nursed him back to health. He’s been dewormed too.”

He sat listening to the conversation like he would chime in at any time, sneaking glances at me as Angie debriefed me about his circumstances.

How could someone be so evil to such an adorable boy?

“Several people have come to look at him, but the brindle coloring gives the impression of a pit bull.” Angie sighed. “He’s incredibly friendly, but the people who’ve come to see him have scared him as well as my husband and me. It’s like he knows they’re not right. My husband and I figured they were looking for fighting dogs, or even bait dogs, when they start asking about his bloodlines.”

A chill traveled down my spine at the thought of people looking to sacrifice a loving creature for a blood sport.

Angie continued, “That’s why we’ve been saying that he’s a Jack Russell mix. We’re not sure though, and we can’t keep him anyway.” Angie went on to explain about their impending move as Goose scanned the yard of the apartment complex.

Hold on. His name isn’t Goose yet. I thought as my mind and heart made the leap. He gets a vote. Remember?
to chit-chat about, I opened the passenger’s side door and cradled him in my arms. His warmth traveled to my core as the soft bundle of brown, black and white fur rested close to my heart. A sigh escaped as I held him to my chest before placing him on the seat.

Shotgun! He perked up and sniffed the interior, which was already filling with the smell of kibble.

His investigation stopped abruptly and he stared at Angie and me. He knew something was different. This wasn’t a casual, meet-someone-on-a-walk encounter anymore. It was a strange new car. He looked at Angie. Thank you. I’m happy. She’s a good one.

Angie sighed.“Bye, Ace. You’re a good boy.”

He seemed to smile as he stretched, puffing out his puppy chest. Then he got distracted by the straw to my iced coffee. He was at ease, and inside of two hours, I became a pup mom. Life wasn’t going to be the same again.

About the Author

Janelle Jalbert had two light bulb moments at the age of 10. One involved teaching. She began teaching her stuffed animals daily lessons after school. The other was the result of an obsession with reading. Just like her dad, Janelle loved to plow through books like any child racing to the presents under a tree on Christmas morning. Her favorite YA series featured a main character that aspired to be a writer, and Janelle exclaimed “I wanna do that!”

Flash forward to a decade or so later, Janelle pursued her love of teaching, but her passion for writing remained a glowing ember. It took a car accident to get Janelle writing once again. She wrote and published Success Skills for Middle and High School Students (2001) to help her students with their major educational transitions. Not one to do the same old thing as everyone else, Janelle had a hint of things to come when she was looking for a “different” topic to focus on for her master’s thesis. She was drawn to Magical Realism. Years later, she blended her love for helping others and creative entrepreneurialism with her writing and contributed a chapter to
Conscious Entrepreneurs (2008). It was another hint of what was to come for Janelle with the theme for her segment in the anthology being a call to take charge of your life by becoming the star of your life by step into your own spotlight.

It sounds simple enough, but Janelle’s journey towards fulfilling her early dream was not that straight-forward…for either better or worse. After transitioning from the traditional classroom to online teaching and moving from K12 to university teaching, Janelle decided to pursue a doctoral program. While juggling teaching, studies, and growing a college admissions counseling business, Janelle had another light bulb moment during a trip to a NASCAR race weekend in Fontana.

Janelle and her sister were always around cars and loved racing. One of their rituals was making the trek to racing events in Southern California. That morning in the spring of 2009, Janelle watched people walking in and out of the garage as practice sessions were going. Again, she heard the voice “I wanna do that!” Given that she was teaching English and doing studies in education, it was a fleeting moment that she quickly forgot.

Three months later, after covering graduate schools in the Los Angeles area for examiner.com, Janelle got a wild idea. She asked her editor in education for the sports editor’s contact information and pitched him the role of Southern California Motorsports Examiner. Not only did she land the position, she was also named NASCAR Truck Series Examiner. By the time that NASCAR returned to Fontana that fall, Janelle was working the garage as a reporter and photographer. In fact, it wasn’t until she was halfway through her first morning there that she remembered what happened during the spring race. It was a little bit of magic, a touch of nerve, and some talent that had Janelle smiling that October day. Janelle went on to travel the country covering motorsports, including moving to North Carolina for an extended period, while still teaching and pursuing graduate work.

The unlikely fairytale story did not an easy happily-ever-after ending though. As her fortieth birthday approached, the rumblings of a major life change began. Even though Janelle loved teaching, she realized that education was not where she needed to be. Then the universe reaffirmed her belief when her teaching position was phased out. Though Janelle was already growing a small business startup, she struggled to find her footing.

Months later, Janelle walked out of a local restaurant and was hit with a story idea that grabbed her. She hadn’t worked on fiction since she was a teen, but the story kept screaming to her. Another voice gave her pause though. “You need to do it in 30 days.” It seemed illogical and even melodramatic. (No, it wasn’t a NANOWRIMO challenge
either.) Still, she began drafting. It flowed, even if it wasn’t in linear fashion, and Janelle felt the fire back in her life.

Then, Janelle learned why there was a 30-day warning. She was about 90% done with the draft when her father went to the hospital. He was diagnosed with a brain tumor and had surgery days later. Though he pulled through the procedure, doctors explained that he had multiple advanced cancers. In the weeks that followed, Janelle finished the draft while her dad battled cancer. He was too ill to read it and passed on New Year’s night. The person who gave Janelle the love of the written word was gone, but life was to take a few more turns.

By spring, Janelle pursued writing in all types of formats, from copywriting and ghostwriting to other genres, to pay the bills. In March, she submitted to Flash Fiction Magazine and was published on the first attempt. A month later, she took another leap and pitched a book to another publisher. The topic was rejected, but they asked if she had any expertise in the other areas that they were seeking. By the end of the week, Janelle had a book contract to write Wine for Beginners. While drafting that book, Janelle also asked to contribute on a regular basis to Flash Fiction Magazine which led her to develop a collection of stories.

Within months, Janelle finished the draft of Wine for Beginners. After finalizing the submission, she poured a glass of bubbly and went to celebrate with her mother and sister. The elation did an immediate 180. Instead of toasting for a much needed celebration, she was helping her sister prepare to go to the emergency room. Less than 12 hours after pouring the glass of bubbly, Janelle’s sister lost her fight with complication from a life-long disability.

So, Janelle’s still working on that happily-ever-after ending. In November 2014, Janelle publishing a collection of flash fiction title Flash 40: Life’s Moments. Wine for Beginners was released in 2015, and the novel, Triangulating Bliss, which rekindled Janelle’s writing passion is due for release in the Fall of 2015.

Janelle currently resides in Southern California, with her pack of pups. When the dogs allow, Janelle regularly returns to her second home of sorts in North Carolina. Her interests are diverse and keep life interesting by giving her experiences that make great stories. More than likely, you can find Janelle enjoying a good wine with friends, feeding her wanderlust beast, or giving into her guilty pleasure of a HEA story in film or written form.
Her latest book is the memoir, WINGDOG: Soul Pup, A Magical Mutt Memoir.

For More Information

Visit Janelle Jalbert’s website and the book’s site.
Connect with Janelle on Facebook and Twitter.

~~~~~

Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew!

For a list of my reviews go HERE

For a list of free eBooks updated daily go HERE

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From the Ashes Of Ruin Series by Matthew D. Ryan ~ Excerpt and Giveaway

Posted: February 4, 2016 in Excerpt, Fantasy, giveaways, Series
Tags: Author Matthew D. Ryan, fantasy, From the Ashes of Ruin Series, giveaway

Want to get started on this exciting series?

Drasmyr is currently free! Go HERE to grab your copy!

You can click on the book covers below to see the series.

And don’t forget to enter. the giveaway!

~~~~~

From The Ashes Of Ruin Series

by Matthew D. Ryan

Genre: Fantasy

Synopsis

We vampires do not make easy prey. Our weaknesses are few, our strengths many. Fear is something we do not know, and death but a distant memory. So tread softly, pray to your god, and gird yourself with silver when the moons arise and night’s dark prince awakens. We fear not the wizard, nor the warrior, neither rogue, nor priest; our strength is timeless, drawn from darkness and we know no master save the hot lust of our unending hunger. We long for blood, your blood and no blade, nor spell, nor clever artifice, can keep us long from our prize. Feel our teeth at your throat, your life ebb from you, and know as darkness comes to claim you that the price of your folly is your everlasting soul.

~~~~~

Enjoy this excerpt from Drasmyr

There’s a woman in chain mail standing across the room from me; her sword is leveled at my chest. I can smell the enchantment on the blade, it’s a strong one; maybe even strong enough to cause me harm. Still, I’m not too concerned; it’s at least a ten foot lunge and I know I move faster than she does. Indeed, she’s the one who is looking worried. My display of strength and the death of her comrade have shaken her resolve.

She’s got a pretty face, flushed with excitement but strong and in control. It is her neck that really draws me, though, so soft and inviting, filled with the warm blood I desire. The curve of her flesh glistens, waiting for a well-placed gentle kiss.

She’s breathing rapidly now, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Her trek up through the castle has sapped much of her strength. And the fear she feels is naked in her eyes. Now, she’s

getting ready to pounce, just a little too much tension in her stance, her eyes just a little too focused. She couldn’t give me more warning if she were to ask my permission first.

She moves in with remarkable speed, her blade striking out like a serpent’s tongue. Even winded, she still manages to cut my cape, then prances away with her back toward the wall, ready for anything. Anything, except me.

~~~~~

AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Matthew D. Ryan lives in northeastern New York on the shores of Lake Champlain. He has been deeply involved in the fantasy genre for most of his life as a reader, writer, and game designer. His writing has been featured at Aphelion.com and YesteryearFiction.com. He is the operator of the web-site matthewdryan.com which features his blog, “A Toast to Dragons,” (http://matthewdryan.com/a-toast-to-dragons-the-blog/) a blog dedicated to fantasy literature, and, to a lesser extent, sci-fi. He is the author of the dark fantasy novels “Drasmyr,” “The Children of Lubrochius,” and “The Sceptre of Morgulan,” as well as a growing number of fantasy short stories including: “Haladryn and the Minotaur,” “The River’s Eye,” and “Escape.”

Drasmyr: Smashwords / Amazon / B&N

The Children of Lubrochius: Smashwords / Amazon / B&N

The Sceptre of Morgulan: Smashwords / Amazon / B&N

Author Mailing List / Website / Twitter / Facebook / Pinterest

~~~~~

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~~~~~

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The more you comment, the more chances to win!

~~~~~

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For a list of my reviews go HERE

For a list of free eBooks updated daily go HERE

To see all of my giveaways click on the lucky horseshoe below!

A missing ghost and a magic tree ~ The Reader by M. Pax ~ Excerpt & Giveaway

Posted: January 1, 2016 in Blog Tour, Excerpt, Fantasy, giveaways, Series
Tags: Author M. Pax, excerpt, fantasy, giveaway, The Reader, The Rigters Series #3

I’m excited to share The Reader with you today.

This is the third book in The Rifters Series.

Come on in and check it out.

Enjoy the peek inside the story.

And don’t forget to enter the giveaway!

~~~~

The Reader

The Rifters Series #3

by M. Pax

Genre: Fantasy

Synopsis

With the rift closed for the season and no more monsters to fight, Daelin Long gets bored as librarian in the podunk town of Settler, Oregon. A job interview and her brother’s arrival present a tempting opportunity to escape, until her brother and her best friend, a ghost, disappear.

While Daelin searches for them, more mysteries pile up: dead people coming back to life, portraits of the town founders replaced with strange white trees, and people on the other side of the rift returning. It’s impossible. The portal that allows monsters from other universes to come to Earth is sealed until next summer.

The Rifters, a secret group protecting our world, believe the troubles are nothing more than the tantrums of an offended ghost. Daelin disagrees. If she’s right, the evil hell-bent on destroying Earth has new technology making the rift more deadly.

Before the monster summons the next apocalypse, Daelin must find it and destroy it.

Book 3 in the Rifter series.

~~~~~

Excerpt

Earl Blacke put on a pair of optilyzers. They resembled aviator goggles from the 1920’s but performed a very different function. They had no buttons, operating by feeding off the energy of auras. Earl peered at Dante. His aura was nonexistent except for a few deep violet spikes. “Why aren’t you glowing like a purple alien candle?”

Dante bordered on fidgeting.

“Does this embarrass you?” Earl asked. “You don’t like showing your non-Earthly colors?”

“I can conceal my aura, and for your safety I do.” Dante lifted his chin and surveyed the clearing carefully. “I’m not the issue. Why you’re seeing your girl is.”

“What if whatever brought her here is masking its aura? You may not be the only thing with such an ability.”

Dante stopped so short, Earl smacked into him hard enough he had to back pedal two steps to regain his balance.

“I’m not a thing. I’m a sentient being with rights. Just like you.” Dante spat then continued to investigate.

“Since you’re not human, you don’t have human rights. What kind of rights are you talking about? Alienable rights, I suppose.” Unable to help himself, Earl guffawed as if he had never laughed in his life. It had been awhile since the urge tickled him.

Dante whirled and smacked Earl on the nose. “Get to work. If something is afoot, you’ve scared it into the next universe by now.”

Gripping his stomach, Earl fought to settle down. “What are we hunting for? You seem to have something in mind.”

“A purple glow. When you find it, holler.” He wiggled his fingers to get Earl moving. “Scatter, and don’t all go searching in the same place.”

~~~~~

Author M. Pax

Pax is author of the space adventure series The Backworlds and the urban fantasy series The Rifters. Fantasy, science fiction, and the weird beckons to her, and she blames Oregon, a source of endless inspiration. She ghost hunts for fun with a group of curiosity seekers, docents at Pine Mountain Observatory in the summers as a star guide, has a cat with a crush on Mr. Spock, and is slightly obsessed with Jane Austen.

Learn more at these links:

Website / Twitter / Facebook

See what inspires The Rifters on Pinterest : https://www.pinterest.com/mpaxauthor/the-rifters/

The first two books in the Rifters series can be read for free by becoming an M. Pax Reader. at – http://mpaxauthor.us11.list-manage.com/subscribe?u=5e298cfbe42080a411dcdd9a3&id=c01a285202

Amazon

AmazonUK / AUS / CA / DE / FR / ES / IT / NL / JP / BR / MX / IN

Bookcessories

iBook / Nook / GooglePlay / Kobo / Smashwords / inktera / Scribd

~~~~~

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For a list of my reviews go HERE

For a list of free eBooks updated daily go HERE

To see all of my giveaways click on the lucky horseshoe below!

A Leah Norwood Mystery ~ Dead In A Park by B.L. Blair ~ Blurb Blitz & Giveaway

Posted: November 25, 2015 in Excerpt, giveaways, Mystery, Romance
Tags: Author B.L. B.air, Dead In A Park, Leah Norwood Mystery #2

I’ve got a great mystery series to share today.

Have you read a Leah Norwood story yet?

Dead In A Park is the second book in this series.

Check it out.

And don’t forget to enter the giveaway.

Dead In A Park

by B.L. Blair

Genre: Mystery / Romance

Synopsis

When Leah Norwood finds the body of Donald Collins in the city park, she doesn’t know he is a distant relative. Young Donnie was a jewel thief and a career criminal. Hidden in the lining of his suit jacket was an exact replica of a ring that has been in Leah’s family for over a hundred years. After her home is burglarized, the sexy chief of police is convinced the ruby ring has something to do with the murder.

Leah wants to find out what happened to Donnie, but why would someone kill for a hundred year old ring? She discovers a connection between Donnie and the drug-dealing Cantono family, between the Cantono family and a jewelry appraiser, and between the jewelry appraiser and one of her own employees. Chief Griggs might be onto something. All clues lead back to the family ring.

Excerpt

“Was he murdered?” I asked softly.

“Oh, yes. It was murder,” Griggs replied.

The last time I found a body it had never occurred to me that the police would consider me a suspect. As a law-abiding citizen, I had just assumed that people knew I was innocent. My experience with the police showed me I was wrong. I looked at both Griggs and Reddish.

“Please tell me you don’t think I killed him.”

Griggs snorted. “No, we don’t think you killed him. He was taller than you, and his neck was broken. No way could you have done that.”

“It was fast and neat,” Reddish added and then turned to Griggs. “Probably someone with military or combat training.”

“Someone who knows how to kill with their hands,” Griggs said softly.

I swallowed. Candace had shot and killed two people in December and tried to kill me twice. She had been crazy, her behavior unexpected and unpredictable, which had made the situation scary. This sounded worse. A person who was calm and rational murdering someone with their bare hands was chilling. And I couldn’t forget about the weird shoe thing.

“Did you find his shoes?”

“No,” Griggs replied, turning toward me.

“Why would someone want his shoes?”

“Who knows? There wasn’t much of a struggle, although there were multiple sets of footprints. But all appeared to be made by people wearing shoes.” He turned away from me and back toward Reddish. “Between Leah and her dog stomping around, I doubt we’ll get any viable footprints.”

“Hey,” I said indignantly. Both men ignored me.

“Let’s keep the area secure anyway,” Griggs continued. “Send a team out to see if they can find anything. Maybe the shoes will show up somewhere else in the park.”

AUTHOR Bio and Links:

L. Blair writes simple and sweet romance and mystery/romance stories. Like most authors, she has been writing most of her life and has dozens of books started. She just needs the time to finish them.

She is the author of the Holton Romance Series and the Leah Norwood Mysteries. She enjoys reading books, writing books, and traveling wherever and as often as time and money allows. She is currently working on her latest book set in Texas, where she lives with her family.

Website / Twitter / Facebook / Blog / Leah Norwood Mysteries blog

Buy Links for Dead in a Park

Amazon / iBooks / B&N / Kobo / Smashwords

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~~~~~

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The more you comment, the more chances to win!

~~~~~

Thanks so much for visiting fuonlyknew and Good Luck!

To see all of my giveaways click on the lucky horseshoe below!

Teaser Tuesdays #136 ~ H20

Posted: November 17, 2015 in Dystopian, Excerpt, Meme, Science Fiction, Teaser Tuesdays, YA
Tags: Author Virginia Bergin, H20, YA Science Fiction/Dystopian

Teaser Tuesdays is a weekly bookish meme, hosted by MizB of A Daily Rhythm.

TeaserTuesdays2014e

Anyone can play along! Just do the following:

• Grab your current read

• Open to a random page.

•Share two (2) “teaser” sentences from somewhere on that page

• BE CAREFUL NOT TO INCLUDE SPOILERS! (make sure that what you share doesn’t give too much away! You don’t want to ruin the book for others!)

• Share the title & author, too, so that other TT participants can add the book to their TBR Lists if they like your teasers!

~~~

My Teaser for this week is from

H20

by Virginia Bergin

26216193

My Teaser from page 80 in the paperback.

1. “Quarantine” makes it sound as if you might come out alive (you won’t); and

2. I’ve never seen or heard of anyone who lasted longer than three hours. Max.

~~~~~

Read on if you want to know more.

Synopsis

.27 IS A NUMBER RUBY HATES.

It’s a number that marks the percentage of the population that survived. It’s a number that means she’s one of the “lucky” few still standing . And it’s a number that says her father is probably dead.

Against all odds, Ruby has survived the catastrophic onset of the killer rain. Two weeks after the radio started broadcasting the warning “It’s in the rain. It’s fatal, it’s contagious, and there’s no cure,” the drinkable water is running out. Ruby’s left with two options: persevere on her own, or embark on a treacherous journey across the country to find her father–If he’s even still alive.

~~~~~

How about you? Got a tease? Tell me!

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Blind Shuffle ~ A Mystery/Thriller by Austin Williams ~ Excerpt and Giveaway

Posted: November 13, 2015 in Blog Tour, Excerpt, giveaways, Mytery/Thriller
Tags: Author Austin Williams, Blind Shuffle, mystery/thriller

Book Partners In Crime Promotions

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Blind Shuffle

by Austin Williams

on Tour Nov 2 – 13, 2015

“I wanted to take a bite out of BLIND SHUFFLE before breakfast but ended up reading straight through lunch. I finished it on a plane to Tijuana. This was my first Rusty Diamond novel…it won’t be my last. Dig in.”

—Patrick Hasburgh, creator of 21 JUMP STREET

Synopsis

Far from the neon lights of Bourbon Street, heinous crimes are being committed against young women, and a street magician seeks to pull off his greatest trick by staying alive long enough to see justice done. The stage is set for a New Orleans noir perfect for fans of James Lee Burke and George Pelecanos.

Rusty Diamond abandoned the Crescent City years ago to pursue fame in Las Vegas, leaving Marceline Lavalle, the daughter of his mentor, with a broken heart. Now Rusty has come back to make amends with his former teacher and his first love—but Prosper Lavalle won’t face him, and no one has seen Marceline for days.

Five months pregnant, Marceline’s vanished without a trace. Her estranged boyfriend, a casino boss with criminal ties and a hair-trigger temper, claims no knowledge of her whereabouts. With the police not yet ready to declare foul play, Rusty launches his own investigation.

The search for Marceline will take Rusty into the darkest corners of New Orleans, where enormous profit can be made from human misery, where desperate people hunt on the fringes, and where not all magic is sleight of hand. It will force him to confront the mistakes of his past, and offer him a shot at redemption. And it will leave him—if he’s not careful—at the bottom of a bayou.

Genre: THRILLER/MYSTERY.

Published by: Diversion Books

Publication Date: October 20th, 2015

Number of Pages: 266

ISBN: 1626817782 (ISBN13: 9781626817784)

Series: 2nd Rusty Diamond Novel

Purchase Links:

Read an excerpt:

Excerpted from Chapter 1

The brunette hadn’t said a word the whole flight. Rusty detected an aloof vibe from the moment he took an aisle seat next to her when boarding the 737 in Baltimore. He made a cursory stab at conversation and got only an annoyed shake of the head. From the preflight safety spiel through takeoff and into cruising altitude, his comely seatmate did a fine job of acting like he wasn’t there.

It didn’t bother Rusty, but it made him curious. He wasn’t the easiest guy to ignore, based on appearance alone.

The brunette’s refusal to even glance at him rendered an uneasy feeling that he’d somehow become invisible. She looked up from her laptop only twice—both times to tell the flight attendant she’d like another glass of Pinot Grigio.

Maybe it’s the tattoos, Rusty thought.

He’d taken off his leather jacket and stuffed it under the seat, wearing a black t-shirt underneath, leaving the snaking vines of symbols and incantations covering both arms from shoulder to wrist open to plain view. His seatmate didn’t look like the kind of woman apt to recoil from some well-inked body art, but then it was sometimes hard to tell.

They occupied the two port seats in row 3. First class, the way it ought to be, located in front of the gangway and separated by a curtain from coach. Rusty was no snob, but after shelling out more than a grand to upgrade his ticket, he felt the difference should be noticeable.

He scratched his goatee and pondered draining another glass of scotch. The dimly-lit cabin filled with searingly bright illumination, making him blink. Huge flashes of lightning strobed through the windows, followed by an ominous roll of thunder deep enough to induce vibrations in his seat.

The brunette jerked her head up from her laptop to raise the window shade. Her posture had gone rigid. Rusty turned to look over her shoulder. A menacing mass of dark clouds filled the oval glass partition, pierced by another burst of lightning.
The brunette pulled down the shade and recoiled into her seat. Rusty suddenly understood the source of her withdrawn demeanor.

She’s scared out of her wits.

Not an unjustified reaction, on this flight. The first two hours had passed calmly enough, but they ran into the outer rim of a massive cyclonic event shortly after entering Louisiana airspace. The “fasten seat belts” sign came on with a ping as the captain casually intoned over the intercom things might get a bit choppy between here and the tarmac.

That proved to be an understatement. For the past half hour, this 737 felt more like an ill-conceived amusement park ride than an airliner. Rusty had only flown through one serious storm before, years ago, and at the time he was so blasted on muscle relaxants and champagne he’d found it more entertaining than frightening. He was enjoying this flight considerably less.

“Shit!” his seatmate yelped as the plane banked ten degrees to the right, sending a splash of Pinot Grigio onto her laptop. The glass rolled off the tray table as its emptied contents trickled down the computer screen.

“Christ, I hate flying,” she said with an embarrassed glance at Rusty. “Did I spill on you?”

“Nah. Just missed me.”

He reached down to retrieve the errant glass and set it on her tray table. “Dead soldier, I’m afraid.”

“Doesn’t make any difference. I could hammer back a whole bottle and I’d still be a wreck.”

“It was supposed to be a clear evening, at least when I checked at BWI. Then again, I learned a long time ago not to trust the weather where we’re going.”

“Do you live in New Orleans?” she asked. “Used to. This is my first visit in a while.” The plane bucked again, harder than before. “Oh Jesus,” the brunette muttered, gripping the seat divider. Rusty saw her expending great effort to maintain a polished
facade, and failing. He couldn’t help but sympathize. “I’m a little nervous myself,” he said, leaning just a bit closer. “But not about getting there safely. That’s the least of my worries.” She looked at him with new interest, a trace of the fear removed from her eyes. “Why’s that?”

Rusty paused before answering. He saw no reason to confide in this stranger, other than passing the time a bit faster before they landed.

“I plan to visit some people I haven’t seen in a long time. They don’t know I’m coming, and I have no reason to think they’ll be glad to see me.”

“Do they owe you money or something?” she asked, amused by the question.

“Just the opposite. I owe them a hell of a lot, more than I can ever repay. Especially the old man. He taught me my trade, asked for nothing except loyalty.”

Rusty paused before adding, “I let him down. His daughter too.” “So you’re coming to ask their forgiveness?” The question hit a nerve. A sense of obligation cutting deeper than common regret had propelled Rusty from his comfortable rented home in coastal Maryland, all the way to the airport in Baltimore and into the first class cabin of this airliner. When he actually reached New Orleans and looked Prosper Lavalle in the eye for the first time in more than half a decade… he had no idea what might happen at that point.

“I just want to clean things up, if possible.”

He turned to his seatmate and detected an innate kindness in her face, tucked away beneath the glossy veneer.

“I hope it goes well,” she said. “People can forgive a lot if you’re sincere in asking for it. Seems like you are.”

“I appreciate that,” he replied, offering his hand. “My name’s Rusty.”

She reciprocated with a businesslike shake. “Erin.” Another jolt to the cabin caused her hand to close tightly on his. Five lacquered nails dug into his skin in a way Rusty didn’t entirely dislike.

“God, I fucking hate this,” Erin said hoarsely. “Last time I ever get on a plane, guaranteed.”

“This is a homebound flight, then?” She nodded. “I’m a sales rep for Revlon. When I interviewed for the job I told them: no travel. So far they’ve honored that, but I really felt pressured to make the convention in Baltimore.”

“We’ll be all right,” Rusty said, looking at his watch and noticing she hadn’t freed his hand. “Less than an hour, you’ll have Louisiana soil beneath your feet.”

“I might just kiss it.” A new ping on the intercom claimed their attention. “Hey folks, this is Captain Thompson. I want to apologize for that last little dip. We ran into a microscale atmospheric gradient, also known as a wind shear. That tends to happen more often during clear air turbulence, but stormy conditions can sometimes produce the same result. Our aircraft is equipped with a reliable on-board detection system, so it’s extremely uncommon for us to fly directly into one of these pesky things. That wasn’t a very big one, even if it felt like it. Unfortunately the scope and severity of this storm may have confused our system regarding its exact location.”

“Very reassuring,” Erin said, clutching Rusty’s hand tighter.

“I’m guessing that’s not part of the airline’s approved spiel,” he answered.

“Not to worry,” Captain Thompson continued. “We’re lowering our altitude now as we approach our initial descent. This should cut down on the turbulence signifi—”

The plane banked hard, fifteen degrees to the left. Rusty and Erin tipped toward the window in unison. She cried out briefly before clamping her mouth shut. More than a few startled noises arose within the first class cabin, with one full-out scream emanating from coach.

“Just sit tight, folks,” the captain cautioned over the intercom, sounding noticeably less relaxed. “We’ll be out of this soon. It might not be the smoothest landing in aviation history, but we’ll get you on the ground as quickly and safely as possible.”

Erin had released Rusty’s hand, both of hers folded tightly in her lap. A trickle of sweat ran from her brow, sending a runny line of mascara down her cheek.

“Shit, shit, shit,” she muttered in a strained whisper. “Say something to me, please.”

“What would sound good right about now?” “Anything, doesn’t matter. Just take my mind off this.” Rusty considered offering some statistics about the safety of flight as opposed to other forms of transportation, but that wasn’t what was called for. What this woman needed was some misdirection.

“Look me in the eye, Erin.” In response to her wary glance, he added: “Trust me, this is a great distraction.”

“OK.”

“Good. I want you to think of someone. Someone you know personally. Don’t tell me who it is, just form a clear picture of this person in your mind.”

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes. Then she opened them and said, “OK, I’ve got someone.”

“All right. Now give me both hands.”

She hesitated as he held his own hands out, palms up, then did as he’d asked. Rusty closed his fingers around each hand, pressing gently on the webbed flesh located between her thumbs and forefingers. He felt the inner play of muscles and tendons as her pulse slowed by degrees.

“OK. You’re thinking of a man, that’s obvious.” She gave a wan nod. “Fifty-fifty chance of getting that one right.” “I’ll try to get a little more specific. Keep looking me in the eye.” Rusty’s thumbs pressed more closely, feeling out the part of her hands known in medical texts as the thenar eminence. He picked up on each tiny throb, felt the muscles tense and relax in sequence as his touch grew heavier.

Reading her gaze, he spoke with better than moderate confidence:

“This guy’s name begins with an M.”

A small spark lit Erin’s eye, and he saw her smile for the first time.

“Not bad,” she said, “but come on. You had a 1-in-26 chance of getting that right. Probably one of the more common letters in a first name.”

Rusty heard the words, but kept his focus on the way she was unconsciously communicating with him. The faint wrinkling of her nose, a tightening of the jawline so minute as to be undetectable by anyone who hadn’t spent years studying the vast range of facial and bodily gestures people employ to transmit information without being aware of it.

“It’s not Matt,” he said. “No, definitely not. And it’s not Martin.”

Erin replied with a nod, sensing that to speak would offer an unintended clue.

“I won’t even bother asking if it’s Monty. And Mycroft is a long shot, unless his parents are really into Sherlock Holmes.”

“You’re just fishing now.”

That was partially true, but in replying Erin supplied him with another telling bit of insight—the emphasis she placed on the first syllable of fishing.

“Nope,” Rusty answered casually as he released her hands. “I knew his name was Michael all along.”

He let that hang there for a moment, clocking her reaction. The smile that grew on Erin’s face, free of any tension or anxiety, made up for her earlier standoffishness.

“He goes by Michael, right? Not Mike.” “Michael it is. I’m impressed.” “And he’s your…fiancé. Yeah. Probably waiting to greet you at the airport with a big kiss.” Now the smile changed shape, widening to express something beyond passing amusement. “Not bad. So you’re, what, a magician?” Rusty was pondering an adequate reply to that question when the 737 hit a massive wind shear at two hundred miles per hour. The plane’s nose buckled down sharply like it had been nailed with a gigantic fly swatter.

Erin screamed. A genuine scream, pulled from her lungs with the force of real terror, and hers wasn’t the only one.

Multiple bags tumbled from overhead containers jolted open by the drop. A service cart near the flight deck rolled from the galley into the aisle on spinning wheels, its brake set loose. A plump flight attendant fell to her knees trying to stop a heavy roller bag from falling onto an elderly man in 4C. The attendant’s head struck the metal edge of an armrest, opening up a deep gash. Blood sprayed from the wound, prompting a fresh volley of screams from the first class cabin. The noise coming from coach sounded like a packed theater in the middle of a particularly intense horror movie.

Another first class attendant ran to assist his partner, yelling for calm over the panicked cries. It was a futile effort, even the captain’s voice on the intercom was lost in the din.

Rusty and Erin huddled in their seats, arms wrapped around each other in an instinctive clinch. The cabin trembled and heaved, everything rattling hard enough to loosen hinges and splinter apart.

The 737 kept dropping into a sharp dive for well over a thousand feet. Three thousand. Five. The engine roar overlapped what sounded like a hurricane raging outside the shuddering windows. It seemed to go on and on, as if the ground below kept racing away to delay the inevitable, catastrophic impact.

Finally, Rusty felt the cabin start to level out. He and Erin were shoved back into their seats as the plane’s nose pushed upward. Some measure of calm returned to the first class cabin.

“Flight personnel be seated immediately,” Captain Thompson resumed on the intercom, his voice hardened to a drill instructor’s bark. “Suspend normal cross-check.” The wounded flight attendant lowered herself into a galley seat. She pressed a towel seeped in red to her face and strapped on an over-the-shoulder safety belt. Her partner scrambled into the adjacent seat. Rusty clutched Erin tightly, feeling her heartbeat hammering against his chest. His eyes blinked shut against another burst of lightning off the plane’s port side. He felt no particular fear. He sensed, on a gut level that had nothing to do with logic, this plane would reach the ground safely.

I know it, without knowing why.

Secure in his intuition of momentary safety, Rusty inhaled deeply, allowing oxygen to fill his lungs at a slow controlled pace. He felt completely alive. He felt good. Yet at the same time, he couldn’t entirely dismiss an unnerving sense that whatever awaited him down on the Louisiana soil threatened him more gravely than the prospect of crashing to it from high above.

Author Austin Williams

author Austin Williams is the author of The Rusty Diamond Series of crime thrillers published by Diversion Books. The second novel in the series, Blind Shuffle, was released in October 2015.

Other books by Williams include the cult suspense novels Crimson Orgy and The Platinum Loop. He is the co-author (with Erik Quisling) of Straight Whisky: A Living History of Sex, Drugs and Rock ‘n’ Roll on the Sunset Strip.

He lives in Los Angeles.

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. This is a giveaway hosted by Diversion Books for Austin Williams. There will be 8 winners of 1 eBook copy of Blind Shuffle by Austin Williams. The giveaway begins on November 2nd, 2015 and runs through November 13th, 2015. a Rafflecopter giveaway

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I have zombies! Four, Their Dead Lives #1 by Zack Scott ~ Excerpt and Giveaway

Posted: October 15, 2015 in apocalypse, Book Blast, Excerpt, giveaways, horror, Zombies
Tags: Author Zack Scott, FOUR, Horror, Their Dead Lives #1, Zombie apocalypse

Welcome to my tour stop for Four (Their Dead Lives #1) by Zack Scott. This is a zombie apocalypse horror, comedy, action & adventure. The tour runs October 12-23 with reviews, interviews, guest posts and excerpts. Check out the tour page for the full schedule.

FOUR

Their Dead Lives #1

by Zack Scott

A tragic past. A destined reunion. A decaying hope.

In Southern California, four friends must face a haunting nightmare from high school in order to save the future of humanity. But will their personal conflicts get in the way? Battling for survival, these fated four will choose whether to follow a destined path or continue their dead lives, while the zombie apocalypse feeds them one cliche after another.

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Enjoy this glimpse inside Four from the Evans Chapter!

Roaring, Evans rolled on his side and unloaded most of his clip as the zombies neared. A few rotting corpses teetered off the dock, while too many others kept their pursuit.

Rolling back to the ocean, Evans reached in. Waves slapped his face. A hand broke the surface, snagging his wrist. He heaved to his feet and yanked Erica back on the dock with one tug. Thank you for being so light. Her body shivered against his and her lips shook the words, “We have to keep moving.”

Evans glanced at the sprinters closing in on them. A wave dragged a few more into the sea.

Erica’s body went weak and limp against him. He said, “We have to go!” But she seemed ready to pass out. He needed her alert, so he grabbed her head, wrapped his fingers through her drenched hair, and with his other arm outstretched, he aimed his pistol steadily, firing at the incoming sprinters.

Blocking out the storm, the bullets, and the onrushing undead, Evans pressed his lips to Erica. The world stilled as they stood in the eye of the storm. If only forever. The kiss seemingly helped Erica focus.

Feet slipped, moans swarmed, waves crashed, and then he finally saw it: the yacht at the end of the dock. Erica’s hand tightened around his, taut with hope. They glanced at one another and her wet lips parted into a beaming smile.

A strong urge gave him the desire to kiss—

The largest wave of them all rose high above the dock, then washed the yacht from their eyes.

Author Zack Scott

Zack Scott is the author of THEIR DEADS LIVES, ONE PISSED OFF SHARK, and several short stories he wrote for the 2013 Flash Fiction Challenge, where he made it to the final round.Although he’s visited many areas in the world, Zack has lived in Southern California most of his life. He grew up in Los Angeles, attended undergrad at CSUCI in Ventura County, and completed law school down in sunny San Diego. More recently, he was living the startup life in Silicon Valley with the 500 Startups accelerator program. He is licensed to practice law in California, but more importantly he likes to hang his pants on his desk chair rather than his closet.

When he’s not writing stories, Zack can be found in a never-ending wrestling match with his dog Leo or cooking pasta while wearing a Chargers apron.

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