Showing posts with label excerpt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label excerpt. Show all posts

Friday, September 23, 2016

Blog Tour: BROOD X by Michael Phillip Cash



Found Footage, Horror, Apocalypse 
Date Published: May 4, 2013
Publisher: Chelshire, INC.

Seth is laid off from work. His wife Lara just found out they are expecting a baby this summer. Seth plans on documenting the entire pregnancy with his brand new digital camcorder. During an evening home watching television, the news reports that a swarm of cicada (Brood Ten) are expected to overwhelm the entire Northeast. Brood Ten is vicious and ready to invade. During a sweltering summer night, Brood Ten emerges and wreaks havoc with the electric grid, phone and cell service, wi-fi, food and water supply. Civilization as they know it is gone. Seth and Lara are thrown back to the stone age in their own home with trillions of cicada trying to deposit their eggs and breed. Fast paced and filled with tension, Brood Ten is the perfect summer read when you’re sitting outside listening to the cicadas sing.



Excerpt:

The wail of sirens rent the air, and Seth burst through the front door holding the camera to see what was happening. Lara followed him out with a dishrag clenched in her hands.
“What’s going on now?” she asked nervously.
“I don’t know,” Seth responded. “I heard a crash.
It was loud. Look there it is,” he pointed to the end of the block. “Stay inside.” Lara retreated into the house.
A crowd of people had gathered around two cars that had hit each other head on. The black BMW was badly banged up. The chassis was nearly bent in half and steam rose from its hood. The air bag deployed and filled the entire front of the car. The door was open and a man was sitting in the driver’s seat, talking on his cell phone.
A silver Prius rested atop a broken fire hydrant.
A geyser of water roared as it shot ten feet into the air.
Sitting on the curb, a dazed woman was holding a towel to her bloody nose. His neighbor Cathy
dashed out of her house to comfort the woman.
“Are you OK?” Seth wandered over to the stricken woman.
“I don’t know what happened,” the woman replied. “I was driving and out of nowhere the whole windshield was covered by bugs.”
“Cicadas?” Seth inquired.
“I don’t know what they were. But there were a lot of them. The wipers couldn’t get rid of them
quick enough. They just kept coming.”
Seth walked away as the woman started cry. He looked at the totaled car. A brown residue of bug
guts smeared the windshield.
Police cars started rolling down the street and pretty soon the chaotic mess got sorted out.
A cop walked over to survey the scene next to Seth. He turned to the policeman and asked, “What do you make of this?”
The officer shrugged his shoulders and replied, “Probably just a swarm.”
***
Later that night, Lara curled against Seth’s side, they watched the evening news.
The newscaster was concluding a segment, “There are widespread and unprovoked bug attacks all over the tri-state area today causing accidents and mayhem everywhere. Although it was very disturbing, the governor is assuring everyone to remain calm. Cicadas usually die within a day or two. He is urging people not to panic.”
“I feel so bad for Cathy,” Lara’s blue eyes welled with tears. “She loved that dog. This is getting scary, Seth.” “You heard what the cops said. They probably disturbed a nest. That’s what happened in Arizona too you know, with the killer bees. They have people there who just take out the nests for a living.”
“What about the car accident?” Lara asked.
Seth put a finger over her soft lips. “They told us not to be concerned. The cops were here in four minutes, and animal control said not to blow it out of proportion. Enough!” he kissed her lightly. “I said enough.”
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About The Author


Michael Phillip Cash is an award-winning and best-selling novelist of horror, paranormal, and science fiction novels.  He's written ten books including the best-selling “Brood X”, “Stillwell”, “The Flip”, “The After House”, “The Hanging Tree”, “Witches Protection Program”, “Pokergeist”, "Monsterland", "The History Major", and “Battle for Darracia” series. Michael’s books are on the Amazon best-seller list and have also won numerous awards. Additionally, he is a screenwriter with 14 specs under his belt. Michael resides on the North Shore of Long Island.

Contact Information

Friday, August 22, 2014

LEGALLY UNDEAD by Margo Bond Collions






Title: Legally Undead
Author: Margo Bond Collins
Category/Genre: Paranormal Romance

Blurb:
  
A reluctant vampire hunter, stalking New York City as only a scorned bride can.

Elle Dupree has her life all figured out: first a wedding, then her Ph.D., then swank faculty parties where she’ll serve wine and cheese and introduce people to her husband the lawyer.

But those plans disintegrate when she walks in on a vampire draining the blood from her fiancé Greg. Horrified, she screams and runs--not away from the vampire, but toward it, brandishing a wooden letter opener.

As she slams the improvised stake into the vampire’s heart, a team of black-clad men bursts into the apartment. Turning around to face them, Elle discovers that Greg’s body is gone—and her perfect life falls apart.

 



Excerpt: 

 The ballroom was packed. More people had arrived while we were getting dressed. Women in sequined dresses and men in tuxedos sat around almost all the tables. Some of them were even eating. Couples crowded the dance floor. The band was indeed very good--they were playing a version of “You’d Be So Nice to Come Home to” and the lead singer, a tall woman in a slinky black dress, had a deep, smoky-sounding voice.
It would be easy to be charmed by this setting, by all the elegance that surrounded me.
Of course, all the vampires that surrounded me weren’t quite so charming. They were terrifying.
And in a room full of people, I discovered that it was easy to tell which ones were vampires and which ones weren’t.  Some of the humans were easy to spot--the ones who were eating food were easy to pick out as humans, of course, and many of them had bandages or fresh wounds on various parts of their bodies. The parts where the veins ran close to the surface: the neck, the crook of the elbow, the wrist.
There were other humans there, too, though, humans who weren’t eating and who didn’t have any visible blood-donation marks. But they were clearly human, just as some of the other people moving around the room were clearly vampires. The vampires tended toward pallor, of course. And occasionally one flashed a fang here or there, particularly when they laughed--an effect that I found chilling. They were mostly extraordinarily beautiful, but then, so were the humans. Deirdre seemed to like surrounding herself with beauty.
It had something to do with the energy the vampires projected, I guess. They seemed strangely brittle, yet almost vibrating with a nervous vitality. I’ve seen a similar thing with people who were on the verge of an emotional breakdown but attempting to hide it. I’ve also seen it in people with bipolar disorder. It’s a sort of forced, manic gaiety verging on hysteria.
But that energy was combined with an indolence of movement. They swayed through the room slowly, languorously, all the while virtually quivering with some suppressed power.
All in all, it was just about the creepiest thing I’d ever seen--toward the top of the list, anyway, right after “Seeing My Beloved Eaten.”
I recognized now some of that same energy in Greg himself. It wasn’t as pronounced, but it was there all the same. Perhaps it grew with age.
That meant that I was in a room full of old--perhaps very old--vampires.
God. I was in big trouble.




About The Author




Margo Bond Collins
Margo Bond Collins is the author of a number of novels, including Waking Up Dead, Fairy, Texas, and Legally Undead (forthcoming May 27, 2014). She lives in Texas with her husband, their daughter, and several spoiled pets. She teaches college-level English courses online, though writing fiction is her first love. She enjoys reading urban fantasy and paranormal fiction of any genre and spends most of her free time daydreaming about vampires, ghosts, zombies, werewolves, and other monsters. 

Amazon † Website †  Blog † Google+ † Twitter † Facebook

Monday, August 11, 2014

BLACK DOG NIGHTS by Ren Monterrey



Black Dog Nights - Ren Monterrey
New Adult Romance
Date Published: August 8, 2014

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My student loans are due and I still haven’t found a job that pays more than minimum wage. So I decide to make an arrangement through The Club. I’ll get what I need…money to pay my loans. And he’ll get what he wants…access to my body…whenever and however he wants it.

ROSE COLLINS is a recent art school graduate with overwhelming student loan debt and no way to pay it.

JAE ROTHKO is a wealthy and renowned artist who doesn’t have the time or patience for a relationship.

Jae joins The Club so he can have one woman when he wants and how he wants with no attachments and no expectations.

He selects Rose to be that woman.

BLACK DOG NIGHTS is a SERIAL NOVEL, which unfolds in THREE PARTS (approximately 80 pages each). EACH PART has a CLIFFHANGER and EACH PART is .99 cents. (That’s $2.97 for ALL THREE PARTS.)



EXCERPT

By the time we get to The Rock Stop, the dance club is already crowded with twenty-somethings who all look eager to hook up with anyone who’s willing.

Two guys, who are already half-drunk, gawk at my breasts as I walk by. I wish there was another feature of my anatomy that garnered as much attention as my mammary glands.

I breathe a sigh of relief when I hit the relative safety of the bar area.

“What do you want to drink?” Cali yells over the loud Top Forty music.

“Would I look too conspicuous just holding a glass of water?”

She purses her lips at me. I tell her she looks like a duck when she does that but it doesn’t stop her.

“I’ll get you a beer. You don’t have to drink it but I don’t want you to embarrass me, or yourself.”

“Yes, Daffy,” I tease.

“I do not have duck lips,” she insists.

“You do when you pucker them like that.”

“I think you’re on crack.”

“Just get the beer.”

She waves in order to get the bartender’s attention but no such luck. He’s busy with a group of girls at the other end of the bar.

“Hey, Babe.” An arm reaches over Cali’s shoulder. “I wasn’t sure I’d see you tonight.”

David nods in my direction. “What’s up?”

He never addresses me by my name even though he’s been hooking up with Cali for over a year and I’ve seen him dozens of times.

David is the kind of guy I always hated in high school. His family has money and he’s never had to work a day in his life for anything. Cars, clothes, expensive vacations, you name it, and his parents have handed it to him on a silver platter. As a result he has a sense of entitlement that knows no bounds.

No doubt that’s why he feels like he can treat Cali any way he pleases and she’ll just keep coming back for more.

He runs his fingers through his short brown hair. I’m not sure whether it’s a nervous habit, or if he thinks that his fingers are like some kind of comb, but he does it all the time.

David is a good-looking guy in a frat-boy kind of way. Cali says he played baseball in high school, and he looks like he probably still plays sports. He’s not huge, but he’s definitely in good shape.

Cali met him at a frat party. Even though she’s never set foot in a college class she’s spent a lot of time at college parties. David likes to brag about the fact that he’s a business major. I don’t see what the big deal is though. I feel like business is a major for people who don’t really know what they want to do with their lives.

Not that I have any room to talk. Apparently I earned a degree for people who don’t really want a job.

Before I know it, Cali and David have disappeared somewhere and I’m alone at the bar.

Great.

I didn’t even want to come here in the first place.

I have a choice. I can leave or I can order a drink. After the day I’ve had a drink is actually starting to sound appealing.

As soon as the DJ starts mixing, nearly everyone moves to the dance floor. The bar area is now pretty empty except for a young woman seated at the far end. She glances up at me when I approach and gives me the faintest of smiles.

She’s an attractive blonde with stunning ocean blue eyes. She’s the definition of a blonde bombshell. She’s got curves that would give Marilyn Monroe a run for her money.

I order a Crantini and the bartender wastes no time filling my order.

“Tough day?” the blonde asks.

I nod.

“Have a seat.” She points at the stool next to her.

“Thanks.”

I climb onto the stool and take a sip of my drink. It’s strong and I cough a little as it goes down.

“Russ likes to make them strong.” She laughs. “Maybe he thinks he’ll get lucky at the end of the night.”

The bartender, who looks like he’s in his mid-thirties, is completely bald and built like a brick house. Definitely someone I would want to have on my side if a fight broke out.

“Are you waiting for someone?” I ask. She looks a little too dressed up for the place we’re in. It’s mostly a denim crowd and she’s in a little black dress and pumps.

“You could say that.”

I nod. A cryptic response, but I get the impression that she’s not going to say much more about who she’s waiting for.

“So what’s your story?” she asks.

I laugh. “Do I look like I have a story?”

“You definitely look like you have a story.”

“You’ve probably heard it a million times before.”

She glances at her watch. I can’t help but notice it’s a gorgeous Rolex. The blonde doesn’t look that much older than me. I doubt she’s even twenty-five. It makes me wonder how she can afford such an expensive watch. When I look at her more closely, I notice she’s also wearing a diamond tennis bracelet and huge diamond stud earrings. Also very expensive.

Maybe she’s like David and has a generous daddy with lots of money.

“I’ve got a few minutes before my friend gets here. Tell me this story I’ve heard a million times before.”

I take another sip of my drink. She’s right. Russ does like to make them strong.

“I recently graduated from art school. I have a fine arts degree but no professional job and no prospects. My student loans are set to go into repayment and I have no way to pay them. I’m barely making ends meet on my salary busting my ass at the local coffee shop. Pathetic, right?”

She shakes her head. “It’s not pathetic, but you’re right, it’s a story I’ve heard a lot. Maybe not a million times. Half a million tops.”

We both laugh. It feels good to laugh about it. At least for one night.

She reaches into her purse, a pricey Coach bag, and pulls out a business card. I expect her to hand it to me but she places it on the bar between us instead.

“I don’t do this very often but I feel bad for you, so I’m making an exception.” She points to the card. “You can pick it up if you want to, after I tell you what it’s about. Or you can leave it on the bar. It’s completely up to you.”

My curiosity is definitely piqued. When I glance down at the card I notice it only has two words: The Club followed by a phone number.

“What’s The Club?”

“It’s a kind of dating service.”

I frown. “Do I look like need a date?”

“No, but you said you need money. This is a special kind of dating service for extremely wealthy men.”

I assume that’s how she got her Rolex and other jewelry, but I don’t want to be rude by asking. “Are you saying it’s kind of like having a sugar daddy?”

She laughs. “That’s kind of an antiquated term but sort of. Most of the men in The Club are older and they have very specific tastes. Most of them want younger women, but more importantly, they want women who will be there whenever and however they want.”

I gulp. Then I whisper. “Are you talking about prostitution?”

She gives me a little smile. “Prostitution implies that you’re with multiple men and they’re paying you for sex. It’s not like that. It’s more like you’re being paid to be one man’s mistress.”

“Are they married?”

She laughs. “Some are. Some aren’t. Does it matter?”

“I think it would to me.”

“Why?”

It’s a good question. I’m not married. He’d be the one doing the cheating.

“Do you mind if I ask how much money you’re talking about?”

“That’s negotiable between you and the man who selects you. It’s called an arrangement. You can negotiate any sort of arrangement you want.”

“Could you give me a ballpark figure?”

“Usually between three and five thousand a month.”

My eyes grow wide at the thought of that kind of money. My salary at the coffee shop, even with overtime and tips, doesn’t come close to that.

“And that doesn’t include all of the perks. A lot of the men like to provide their girlfriends with generous gifts in addition to their arrangement.”

“You said a lot of the guys are older. How old?”

An image of a geriatric using a walker crosses my mind. I’m not sure I’d be able to have sex with someone that old, if he could still even have sex.

“The guy I have an arrangement with is fifty-four.”

That’s ten years older than my dad. I can feel my stomach churn. Am I really considering getting involved with some kind of club and being paid to have sex with a guy who could be older than my father?

The blonde leans in close. “Don’t let his age fool you. He can still perform in bed. And I only have to see him two days a week for a few hours. And my arrangement is non-exclusive. He doesn’t mind if I date other guys.”

“I don’t really date that much,” I confess.

“That’s even better. There are a lot of guys who want exclusive arrangements. Not many girls will commit to that.”

I stare at the business card for a few seconds. Is this something I’m actually considering? I’m just not sure. There’s no doubt that I need the money but I’m not sure about having sex with someone I don’t even know…for money.

“It’s really not that bad,” she insists. “I wasn’t sure at first either but you get used to it. And Alex can be a really sweet guy.”

She makes a point of pushing the business card a little closer to me. “At least meet with Claudia. You can always back out if a guy selects you and you don’t like him.”

I pass my hand over the card and hesitate for a moment. I feel like this is a pivotal moment. Like my whole life could change just by picking up the card.

I take in a deep breath then grab the card from the bar. Now that it’s actually in my hand I feel like calling the phone number is inevitable.

“Tell Claudia that December sent you.”

My eyes widen and I can’t help the look of surprise on my face. “Your name is December?”

She laughs. “It’s my real name too. And I wasn’t even born in December. My birthday is November 28. I was an early arrival. But my parents already picked out the name and they really liked it.”

She holds out a hand for me to shake. “December Reynolds.”

“Rose Collins,” I reply as I shake her hand.

“Claudia just accepted several new members into The Club and she’s looking for a few more girls. I think she’ll really like you. You’re cute and classy.”

I’m not sure whether to take that as a compliment. “Thanks,” I say anyway.

December looks at her watch. “I’ve got to split. I’m supposed see Alex in a few minutes.”

She hops down from her barstool then reaches into her purse, grabs two twenties and throws them on the bar. The drinks here aren’t cheap but they’re not that expensive. “The Crantini is on me. I’m sure I’ll see you around. Give my best to Claudia.”

Before I have a chance to respond, December is hurrying out the door.





About the Author


Ren Monterrey lives in a small town outside Phoenix, Arizona with her husband and their bloodhounds. She writes New Adult and Contemporary romance under a number of different pen names.

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Thursday, August 7, 2014

STOLEN DREAMS by Christine Amsden: Blitz




Stolen Dreams – Christine Amsden
Cassie Scot #4
New Adult Romance / Urban Fantasy / Mystery
Date Published: June 25, 2014
Paperback October 14, 2014

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Edward Scot and Victor Blackwood have despised one another for nearly a quarter of a century, but now their simmering hatred is about to erupt.

When Cassie Scot returns home from her sojourn in Pennsylvania, she finds that her family has taken a hostage. Desperate to end the fighting before someone dies, Cassie seeks help from local seer Abigail Hastings, Evan Blackwood’s grandmother. But Abigail has seen her own death, and when it comes at the hand of Cassie’s father, Victor Blackwood kills Edward Scot.

But things may not be precisely as they appear.

Evan persuades Cassie to help him learn the truth, teaming them up once again in their darkest hour. New revelations about Evan and his family make it difficult for Cassie to cling to a shield of anger, but can Evan and Cassie stop a feud that has taken on a life of its own? Conclusion to the Cassie Scot series.



EXCERPT

(From Chapter 7)

            “I–” My cell phone rang, saving me the challenge of coming up with a plausible lie. I answered without checking the caller ID. “Hello?”

            “Cassie, dear, how are you and my grandson getting along?” It was Abigail. I had the volume turned up loud enough that Evan could hear. His eyes widened, and he stepped closer. Too close, but I pretended the proximity didn’t affect me in the slightest.

            “Abigail, where are you? What are you doing?”

            “You know the answer to that question, Cassie. And as much as I’d love to give you and Evan a chance to work through more of your issues, I find I have a selfish last request.”

            My heart squeezed. “What?”

            “I don’t want to die alone.” The words were a bare whisper, but both Evan and I heard.

            “Where are you?”

            “At the overlook around back. Hurry.” The call ended.

            “What did she mean?” Evan asked. “What do you know?”

            I was already on my way out the front door, Evan right on my heals. To simplify matters, and to get to her as soon as possible, I decided to give him as much of the truth as I could. “She says someone has to die, and if it’s not her, then it’s going to be your parents.”

            “What? When did she say that?”

            “In snatches for a week, but most of it earlier tonight, right before I came over.” I was out the door now, heading around back up the paved path wide enough for Abigail’s wheelchair to navigate.

            To my immense relief, Evan didn’t question me further. He followed me for a few paces, then rushed ahead, moving too quickly for me to keep up even when I broke into a run.

            She had her chair parked at the top of the hill, overlooking the lake below and a spectacular sunset above. Either I had never seen colors so vibrant before, or I had never paid proper attention. It was as if the heavens were saying farewell.

            My father was nowhere in sight. I had half expected to see him there, and managed a sigh of relief when I didn’t. It was short lived, though.

            Evan knelt in front of his grandmother, holding her right hand in his. When I arrived, I sank to the paved earth at her other side, taking her left hand in mine. The skin was papery thin and so frail I feared it would flake away.

            “Thank you.” She didn’t look at either one of us, and her voice was whisper-thin.

            “You don’t have to die,” Evan said. “There has to be another way out. How are you going to die?”

            “I-I don’t know. I can’t see past my own death. It’s made things... difficult these past few months.”

            “Then how do you know you’re doing the right thing?” I asked. Demanded might be a better word. “How do you know your death will prevent anything?”

            “I didn’t have long to live anyway. My heart is weak, and.... I don’t want to talk about it. Please. I don’t have long. Talk to me about something nice.” There was a hitch in her voice that told me no matter how she had prepared for this moment, she wasn’t ready to die. That realization, more than anything else, brought the first tears to my eyes.

            “Don’t cry for me. I’ll be all right. My husband’s been gone these many years now, and I’ve been alone.”

            I felt Evan’s free hand take mine, and I didn’t even think about yanking it away. For once, his touch didn’t feel anything except comforting. He needed it. I needed it. And so it was.

            “Did you like my invitations?” Abigail asked.

            “Why did you send them?” Evan asked.

            “I don’t suppose you two would consider it a dying woman’s last request?” she asked.

            “Nice try,” I said.

            Evan didn’t say anything, although I became more aware of his hand holding mine.

            “Seriously,” Abigail said, “will you at least talk to one another? Really talk?”

            I closed my eyes, swallowed hard, and nodded. The request was at least as manipulative as the first because she knew I couldn’t deny this one. It was too reasonable.

            “Good.” She squeezed my hand.

            That’s when her house exploded.




About the Author


Christine Amsden has been writing fantasy and science fiction for as long as she can remember. She loves to write and it is her dream that others will be inspired by this love and by her stories. Speculative fiction is fun, magical, and imaginative but great speculative fiction is about real people defining themselves through extraordinary situations. Christine writes primarily about people and relationships, and it is in this way that she strives to make science fiction and fantasy meaningful for everyone.

At the age of 16, Christine was diagnosed with Stargardt’s Disease, a condition that effects the retina and causes a loss of central vision. She is now legally blind, but has not let this slow her down or get in the way of her dreams.

In addition to writing, Christine teaches workshops on writing at Savvy Authors. She also does some freelance editing work.

Christine currently lives in the Kansas City area with her husband, Austin, who has been her biggest fan and the key to her success. They have two beautiful children.

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