Showing posts with label Book Feature. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Book Feature. Show all posts

Thursday, March 27, 2014

New Release: The Offering by E.R. Arroyo



Consumed by guilt from a war she started, Cori faces the aftermath of her destruction. The Mercy colony is in shambles as infection spreads and Dylan struggles to find a cure before it’s too late. Cori’s love and loyalties are put to the test when he asks her for the unthinkable. Now faced with impossible decisions, Cori must risk her friends and everything she’s ever cared about in order to put things right. She’ll go to unimaginable lengths to save the innocent, no matter the cost.


E.R. Arroyo's Links: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Pinterest | Goodreads


The Sovereign Series on Goodreads:
The Offering (Book 2) on Goodreads
Sovereign (Book 1) on Goodreads
** book 1 is free on Kindle, iBooks, Google Books, Kobo, & Smashwords

Playlist:

1. Panic Switch by Silversun Pickups
2. Nothing Left To Say by Imagine Dragons
3. Oats In the Water by Ben Howard
4. Bottom of the River by Delta Rae
5. Ungodly Hour by The Fray
6. White Blank Page by Mumford & Sons
7. Slow It Down by The Lumineers
8. Just Breathe by Pearl Jam
9. Wait For Me by Kings of Leon
10. All These Things That I've Done by The Killers



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Friday, March 21, 2014

New Release + Excerpt: Bad Girlfriend by Kirsten Demuzio

Excerpt - Adam’s POV 
I was overwhelmed with the urge to show her that good guys did exist, and that I was one of them.  But that’s not what she needed right now.
When we were done eating, I threw the pizza box in the fridge.  Brooke poured another round of shots for us, and this time I did mine at the same time as her, with my eyes closed.
“So, you know my story.  Now it’s your turn.”
Brooke shrugged one slender shoulder and picked at the blanket with her pale yellow fingernails.  I looked to her toes and saw they were painted in a matching shade.  At first glance, everything about this girl screamed high maintenance.  Yet, here she sat on my bed, eating pizza out of a box, drinking tequila shots and seemed to be perfectly comfortable doing it.
“There’s not much to tell.  I grew up here with Gram.  My mom was only sixteen when I was born and was too young to handle raising a kid.  She comes and goes, but mostly goes.  I went to cosmetology school after high school, and I do hair at Loraine’s Luscious Locks.”  She winced as she said that last part.  “I hate that name.  Luscious is such a weird word.”
I laughed.  “Do you like what you do?”
“Yeah, I really do.  I’m good at it.  I like making people feel good about themselves.  It’s not brain surgery, but I like it.”
“You don’t have to save lives to be doing something important.  I’m sure a good haircut can do more for a woman’s self-esteem than twenty sessions with a psychiatrist.”
“That’s probably true,” Brooke said, tilting her head to the side as she studied me.
“What?”  I asked, thinking I must have pizza sauce smeared on my face or something.
She narrowed her eyes.  “Are you gay?”
“What?”  I repeated.  This conversation was not going where I thought it would.
“It’s just that you’re so…nice.  And you seem to really understand women.”
I snorted.  “I assure you, Brooke, I am not gay.  And I absolutely do not understand women.  Your species is a complex and unsolvable mystery to me.”
She giggled and reached for the tequila bottle again.  When we both had our shots in hand, she held hers up.  “To new friends.”
I clinked my glass against hers.  “To new friends.”
That’s the last thing I have any clear memory of…



Title: Bad Girlfriend (First and Last #4) 
Author: Kirsten DeMuzio
Genre: New Adult Romance
Release Date: March 18, 2014

Brooke Mills has only ever wanted to be loved. The product of a teenage pregnancy and raised by her grandmother, Brooke went looking for love in all the wrong places. She has been the other woman or someone’s dirty little secret more times than she cares to admit. When Brooke’s questionable judgment lands her in the bed of her new neighbor, it’s the wakeup call she needs to change her ways. With the help of her friends, Brooke is determined to find a nice guy. Adam Branigan is new in town, and despite the way he and Brooke met, Adam knows there’s more to the beautiful redhead than meets the eye. He wants to be the guy to show Brooke that she deserves more than late night booty calls. But will outside pressures and past relationships conspire to keep them apart? 

**This book is intended for a mature audience, age 18 and older, due to language and explicit content. 



I am an author of new adult and contemporary romance novels. My husband and I live in Columbus, Ohio with our two young daughters and happy golden retriever. When I’m not spending time with my family, I can be found doing one of my other favorite activities - writing, reading and napping.

Connect with Kirsten: Facebook | Blog | Goodreads | Pinterest




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Friday, March 14, 2014

Zombie Book: Alive by Megan D. Martin




Flesh-eating zombies, dirty sex, and a shattered past…
What’s more dangerous—the man who broke her heart or those trying to eat it? Fighting to survive, Eve finds herself alone in the world after the Crave—the only parallel of her former life. On the hunt for her sister, she runs into Gage—the first and only boy to have her heart and break it. It’s been four years and he isn’t a boy anymore, nor is he the same person he used to be. Against her better judgment, Eve agrees to stay with him when he divulges information on a safe haven near the small town they grew up in—but that doesn’t mean she has to like it… Returning home elicits a myriad of emotions that both Eve and Gage thought they had buried. The past and present collide and they are forced to the face bitter deceits that ruined them in the before and threaten to destroy them now…





Megan D. Martin is a multi-published author, mother, student and editor. She writes New Adult Romance with a bloody, sexy twist. Her characters are damaged souls who find each other in the dark and have to fight for a love they may or may not deserve. In her spare time Megan plays Batman with her incredibly sweet son, watches too many episodes of Vampire Diaries (Ian, call me!), buys fish for her many fish tanks, and has long talks with Gandaldore (the little writing wizard that sits on her desk.) She is well known for losing her keys and has more than one nerdy tattoo.

Blog / Facebook / Amazon / Twitter / Goodreads 


Megan D. MartinLRT Book Tours






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Friday, January 10, 2014

Book Feature + Excerpt: Sleepless by Tracey Ward


 
Sleepless by Tracey Ward


My name is Alex Mills and I have a superpower.

Don't be jealous, it sucks. I can't control it. My mind is a mutinous SOB that takes over when I go to sleep. I'm just a girl trying to get some shut eye while it decides to throw a rager that can land me just about anywhere in the world.

The base of the Eiffel Tower.
The shore on the coast of Ireland.
The third baseline at Wrigley Field.

Sounds exciting and fun right? Wrong. My not so superpower is unpredictable, uncontrollable and annoying as hell. It's also how I met Nick.

Every cloud has a silver lining. Nick is mine.

Nick is extraordinary as well. He can't feel fear. Never has, never will. It's worked out for him as a PJ in the Air Force, one of the most dangerous jobs in the military, but where it's not helpful is with his social skills. Nick is cold, distant and apathetic.

He's also my hero. And if he's to be believed, I'm his.

I first met him when he died and that wasn't even the weirdest moment of our relationship. Neither is this moment here and now, trapped together in an island prison on the Behring Sea. It's a long, strange story between his death and this prison. One full of sheep, docks, Jabberwocks and a very special stone. I could tell it to you if you'd like to hear it. I've got time...




“Your life might not be good for a girlfriend, but a girlfriend might be good for your life.”

“You are really racking up the profound statements tonight.”

“You’re impossible.” she groans.

“Another reason I should stay alone.”

“There are far more reasons why you shouldn’t.” she says quietly.

“Careful, that’s almost a compliment.” I warn her playfully, trying to lighten her mood. She doesn’t respond. She’s playing the waiting game, fishing for more of a response, and I know exactly where she learned it. The girl’s a natural because I can’t help but turn to face her, sit up on my elbow and explain. “I don’t want a woman playing mistress to my job. Being a PJ, though, I can’t offer much more than that. And I told you what’s wrong with me. I don’t get attached. I don’t make time or room for people easily. So I leave it alone.”

She doesn’t respond. She barely breathes. I’m pretty sure it’s because I’m slowly pulling my fingers through her hair. I hadn’t planned on doing it but now that I am I don’t plan on stopping. Not until she tells me to. Her hair is long and soft, softer than I knew hair could be, and I’m perfectly content to keep dipping my fingers into it and watching the starlight shimmer off the strands as I move them.

“Nick,” she whispers, not looking at me. “You shouldn’t touch me.”

“Do you want me to stop?” I ask. I’ve been around long enough to understand that shouldn’t and can’t are not even vaguely the same thing.

“No.” she breathes.

I smile as I continue slipping my fingers through her hair. She lays perfectly still, her only movement the occasional blink and the slow rise and fall of her chest.

It’s different this time, touching her. The other times, when her skin barely brushed mine, I didn’t feel anything. Nothing to support her claim that it was “dangerous”. Now, though, it feels different. My heart is skipping beats. Not a lot, it’s not racing by any means, but every once in a while it trips and misses a step.

When she turns her face to look at me, it misses a big one.

Her warm eyes are shining in the low light, not bothering to hide a thing. Everything she feels is written plainly for me to see and it makes me feel good. Nothing profound.

Just good.




I was born in Eugene, Oregon and studied English Literature at the University of Oregon (Go Ducks!) It was there that I discovered why Latin is a dead language and that being an English teacher was not actually what I wanted to do with my life. 

My husband, my son and my 80lbs pitbull who thinks he's a lapdog are my world.



Sunday, January 5, 2014

Book Blast: My Life For Yours by Margaret McHeyzer



My Life For Yours by Margaret McHeyzer
Genre: Darker Contemporary Romance 18+
Publication Date: November 14, 2013
Cover Designed By: Sprowt Graphic Design
Event organized by: Literati Author Services, Inc.


He’s lived a life of high society and privilege; he chose to follow in his father’s footsteps and become a Senator.

She’s lived a life surrounded with underworld activity; she had no choice but to follow in her father’s footsteps and take on the role of Mob Boss.

He wants to stamp out organised crime and can’t be bought off.

She's the ruthless and tough Mob Boss where in her world all lines are blurred.

Their lives are completely different, two walks of life on the opposite ends of the law.

Being together doesn’t make sense.
But being apart isn’t an option.


Purchase Links: Amazon US / Amazon CA / Amazon UK / Amazon AU



I love to read. I'm a huge fan of books and when I start reading anything, I usually forgo doing everything else, I mean the housework will still be there in the morning (right?). When I love a story or book that I've downloaded, I usually refrain from sleep and am crabby the next day - but only until I pick my iPad up and start reading again!

The idea for my debut novel HiT 149, came to me as I was chopping my vegetables for dinner and before the night was over I had written 10 chapters!

My goal with writing is just to take people away from whatever is going on in their lives, even if it's only for a split second.

I'm a go with the flow sort of person and don't really take a course of action to get where I am going. I live in the moment and don't usually worry about tomorrow because whatever life is due to bring me, I'll be happy to accept.

I love my family and friends and will help anyway I can if someone needs it. But I can be a bit daft sometimes and need to be told very specifically or it'll go over my head! I really don't like people that are nasty just because they can be, I don't believe that's necessary, I mean life is hard enough as it is!
I hope you enjoy my books, I've had a hoot writing them. There's more to come, and not all from the same series......

Til next time

Connect with the Author: Facebook | Goodreads


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Friday, November 15, 2013

Book Spotlight: Bone Deep by Bonnie Dee

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Bone_Deep
In the fall of 1946, grieving war widow Sarah goes to the carnival with her friends and is riveted by the tattooed man in the freak show, sporting head to toe body art. Later she discovers him hiding in her hayloft, escaped from virtual imprisonment since childhood by the carnival's evil owner. She shelters him on her farm, fighting a powerful sexual attraction while learning about his mysterious past and gentle nature. When a local child goes missing, Tom uses his psychic gifts to locate her, but his assistance in the case doesn't allay the town's mistrust of such an exotic stranger in their midst. Small-town prejudice tears the lovers apart and a very real threat from carnival owner Art Reed endangers them. Can they rise above obstacles of fear and hate to create the family both have always craved?

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excerpt
Discordant carnival music and the smell of burnt sugar, popcorn and axle grease drifted through the crisp fall air. In the dusk, the colored lights of the rusty rides shone in broken lines where bulbs were missing. Faded canvas tents housed games of chance, a fortune-teller, a fun house and freaks. Sarah walked the trash-strewn paths between booths and rides and wondered why sheíd come. She hated carnivals.ìSarah, you made it!î Grace May called across the loud music and barkerís cries. She caught up with Sarah and linked arms. ìIím so glad. You spend far too much time alone on the farm. You need to get out more.î Sarah smiled without comment. It was easy to read Graceís message between the lines. ëStop grieving. John was killed over a year and a half ago. Itís time to start living again.í But Grace couldnít possibly know what Sarah felt like inside, hard as drought-baked earth longing for rain but more likely to shed water than soak it in and grow soft again. Johnís body had been shipped home from the front just before V.E. day ended the war. She could pinpoint April 29, 1945 as the day her heart froze. The moment sheíd seen John in the coffin and realized his death was real, Sarah had stopped feeling much of anything. She drew her light blue cardigan more tightly around her. There was a chill in the air at the end of a hot September day. Grace squeezed her arm. ìLook, I know youíre going to be mad at me butóî ìGrace, whatíd you do?î ìI told Mike to bring a friend along. You know Andrew Harper, who works at the hardware store? Heís new in town, single, almost forty but a real sweet guy and heís looking for someone.î ìWell, Iím not.î Sarah pulled her arm away from Grace, annoyed at her friendís meddling. ìAnd I donít appreciate your match-making without consulting me first.î ìCome on. Donít be upset. Itís only for this one evening. If you donít like the guy, you donít have to see him again. Oh look, there they are.î Grace grabbed Sarahís arm again and tugged her toward two men standing near the entrance to one of the tents. Graceís husband, Mike, was talking to a red-haired guy with a pleasant smile on his freckled face. He wore a short-sleeved shirt and a navy blue sweater-vest, and she vaguely remembered seeing the man when she had her screen door repaired at McNultyís Hardware. She might even have talked to him, but if she had, it hadnít left an impression. Harperís grip was warm and his smile shy as he shook her hand. ìHi. Iím Andrew Harper. I work atóî ìMcNultyís. I know. Iíve seen you there. Iím Sarah Cassidy.î She pulled her hand away from his and adjusted her sweater around her shoulders, aware of Grace and Mike exchanging glances. ìSo, how do you like living in Fairfield?î Harper shifted on his feet and a flush crept up from his neck, covering his freckles. ìI like it just fine.î He cleared his throat and looked across the fairgrounds. ìThatís nice.î Sarah couldnít think of a single thing to add. She didnít want to make small talk. She wished she was at home reading a book or listening to the radio. Mike stepped forward interrupting, the awkward moment. ìHow about a ride on the Ferris wheel, ladies?î ìNot for me,î Grace replied. ìI hate heights and even if I didnít I wouldnít trust that thing.î She indicated the ancient metal wheel arching against the night sky. The cars swayed as it jerked to a stop. ìHow about in here?î Andrew pointed to the tent near them. The painting on the side of the canvas showed obese, bearded, dwarfed, misshapen, tattooed, hermaphrodite freaks. You could gawk at them for only a quarter. She thought those who were willing to pay to view handicapped people were more pathetic than the unfortunates themselves. But Grace and Mike agreed so Sarah paid her money and followed the others inside. In the hushed darkness beneath the canvas, each display was illuminated by a single bare bulb. The dim light cast odd shadows, adding to the gloomy atmosphere of the stifling tent. Heat from earlier in the day was trapped in the airless enclosure. The smell of unwashed bodies and cow manure was rank. Sarah removed her cardigan and tied it around her hips. Only a few other people wandered from one attraction to the next. There was a placard set up in front of each ëdisplayí. There was a calf with a fifth leg lying on a bed of straw. A two-foot-tall dwarf sat on a stool, smoking a cigarette and gazing impassively at the fair-goers. Sarah felt as if sheíd stepped back into medieval times as she trailed her friends from one mistake of nature to the next. What next? Bear baiting and a public execution? She watched the bearded woman open her robe to reveal a breast then tug on her facial hair to prove its validity. Feeling like a voyeur, Sarah dropped her gaze. She moved on to observe another woman who had some kind of growth on the side of her neck, which on closer examination proved to have stunted facial features--natureís aborted attempt at a twin. The others lingered, studying the woman with the tumor, but Sarah moved quickly ahead, anxious to be out of the hot, oppressive tent. It felt wrong to be gaping at these peoplesí anomalies. The next station appeared to be empty. The wooden chair beneath the yellow glow of the light bulb was empty. Sarah peered into the shadows behind the spotlighted chair and saw something moving. Then the dark figure stepped into the circle of light. Sarah drew in her breath. The man was a walking tapestry of color. Every bit of his skin was covered in tattoos. Angels, devils, dragons, flames, flowers and skulls were tossed on blue waves. There was no common theme to the tattoos and only the decorative blue swirls connected them. It gave the impression of flotsam floating in the wake of a shipwreck. In the center of the manís chest was a red heart, not a Valentine confection but a knobby fist-shaped lump with stubs of aortas sticking out. Wrapped around the heart were links of black chain, binding it tight. The movements of his muscles as he took his seat caused the images to expand and contract, as if they pulsed with life. With all the ink covering his body, it took Sarah a moment to notice how very nearly naked he was. A loincloth hung from his hips. As he sat, propping one knee up on a rung of the chair, the cloth opened to reveal that his thigh was covered with images right up to his groin. A flush of heat lanced through her, settling warmly in between her legs. She brushed her hair back from her burning cheeks and tucked it behind her ear. She knew she should move on, but couldnít stop staring at the tattooed man. He gazed past her, across the tent, focusing on something. Sarah fought the urge to look over her shoulder at whatever he was seeing. His body was as concealed as if he were clothed. The designs covered every limb and muscle, distracting the eye from his nudity. Even his face and shaven head were tattooed. More tentacles of the swirling blue design marked his cheeks and framed his eyes making their vivid blue seem to glow like a gas flame. When he turned his head to the side, images bloomed up the back of his neck and fanned over his scalp in a fountain of colors. The shreds of pale skin between the tattoos served as contrast to red, purple, ochre, green and inky black. Sarah suddenly realized that her friends had already looked at the tattooed man and gone on ahead while she still stood and stared. Unwillingly, she started to walk away. Just then he turned his head and his eyes caught and held Sarahís. Her breath stopped and her heart pounded. He was gazing at her as intently as she had been looking at him, peering deep inside her. She felt naked in front of him and longed to run away from his searing gaze, but found it impossible to move her feet. It was as if he saw and marked her pain, still percolating underneath the veneer of dull ennui. His scalpel gaze hurt as it cut through her scars. Tears stung her eyes and she blinked to clear them. Then the man looked away, once again staring sightlessly at that invisible mark on the opposite side of the tent. Sarah moved on, feeling shaken and anxious, wondering what had just happened. That moment of connection had been as sharp and real as anything sheíd ever experienced. She longed to go home, bury herself under her bedcovers, and forget what sheíd seen tonight. She hurried past the rest of the exhibits, but before she followed her friends out of the sideshow Sarah took a last glance at the tattooed man. A cluster of people blocked her view. She had to leave without seeing him again. The rest of the evening passed in a blur of carnival lights and music and too much noise. She made pointless small talk with Grace, Mike, and Andrew but nothing registered. She felt as if she was walking in a dream. Her mind kept returning to the arresting vision of the tattooed man, to his intense eyes even more than the art decorating his muscular body. If only she could steal away from her friends, pay her quarter and see him one last time. Instead, she bid them all goodnight, rejected Andrewís offer to see her home, and walked over the hill, through the pasture to her house.
about author
Bonnie Dee began telling stories as a child. Whenever there was a sleepover, she was the designated ghost tale teller, guaranteed to frighten and thrill with macabre tales. She still has a story printed on yellow legal paper in second grade about a ghost, a witch and a talking cat. Writing childish stories for her own pleasure led to majoring in English at college. Like most English majors, she dreamed of writing a novel, but didn't have the necessary focus and follow through at that time in her life. A husband, children and work occupied the next twenty years and it was only in 2000 that she began writing again. Bonnie enjoys reading stories about people damaged by life who find healing with a like-minded soul. When she couldn't find enough books to suit her taste, she began to write them. button-websitebutton-facebookbutton-twitter  
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Thursday, October 3, 2013

Book Feature + Giveaway : Stained by Cheryl Rainfield


Stained VBTAvailable October 1, 2013!

Stained
Cheryl Rainfield
Young Adult - Suspense Thriller

In this heart-wrenching and suspenseful teen thriller, sixteen-year-old Sarah Meadows longs for “normal.” Born with a port-wine stain covering half her face, all her life she’s been plagued by stares, giggles, bullying, and disgust. But when she’s abducted on the way home from school, Sarah is forced to uncover the courage she never knew she had, become a hero rather than a victim, and learn to look beyond her face to find the beauty and strength she has inside. It’s that—or succumb to a killer.

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Naj's Note: I don't know about you guys, but this book sounds good!

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Author Bio:


Twitter  (@CherylRainfield)


GIVEAWAY

Giveaway time! These eBook copies are available for grabs! 
All you have to do is comment below with your email address.


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Friday, August 23, 2013

Book Feature: Beneath The Veil by William McNally



Beneath the Veil
William McNally


Genre: Paranormal/Science Fiction/Horror

ISBN: B00CZDVZLI
ASIN: 978-1481953627

Number of pages: 276
Word Count: 44,966


Book Description:

Welcome Beneath the Veil, a Place Where the Dead Have Never Left...

With his life turned upside down, a terminally ill man seeks answers from a family he never knew. Barry Ryan, a successful sculptor, goes on a journey to find his roots and the extraordinary family that somehow evades death and ties him to a terrifying future. 


Driven to find answers, Barry is joined by his sister and her boyfriend on the road to Auraria, a mysterious ghost town where terrible secrets lie hidden since the days of gold and greed.


All is well until they cross the city limits and fall beneath the veil, a place where the bizarre rules the living, and the living are prey trapped in an ever-changing web. 


Generations of conflict come to light as these unfortunate visitors struggle to survive. Echoes of the past are lethal here...in this place where the dead have never left.

___________


Chapter One

His headache began again with a dull ache in the back of his head. He walked to the kitchen, opened a cabinet door and grabbed a bottle of aspirin. Swallowing two pills, Barry Ryan leaned against the counter and gazed across his loft. The wood floors were covered with tarps, and chips of stone surrounded a car sized sculpture of a pyramid. The piece was a commission for an insurance conglomerate and almost completed after two years of work. He walked around the sculpture and into a service elevator, then rotated a brass handle and the lift shuddered to life. 

He descended into a warehouse filled with massive stones and slabs of marble. Unfinished and abandoned works lined one wall, while a dozen cars lined another. He pulled a tarp from a 1967 Corvette Sting Ray convertible and then climbed in and fired up the engine. He drove the car out of the building and turned onto Spring Street, where the sun shined between glittering high-rises. After driving twenty blocks he pulled into a garage and parked, then grabbed his sketchbook from the passenger seat. The streets were quiet as he walked to a café on a corner. His agent, Peter Harper, sat outside in a tailored suit wearing gold rimmed sunglasses. 

“Morning, Barry,” Peter said. “How’s the chiseling on the Daecom rock going?”

“Good,” he answered. “Just about finished.” 

“Nice. I’ve got three more lined up when you’re ready. Word’s out on your work. All these companies want to enshrine themselves in stone.”

“Need a break for a while, Pete,” Barry answered. “These will have to wait.”

“I’ll hold them off as long as I can, Barry, but these are big time offers. I recommend we jump on them as soon as we can. One bad quarter and these deals are gone,” Peter said.

“I hear you Pete. I’ll keep you posted,” Barry answered. 

The two men enjoyed breakfast at the restaurant, built in a former bank building. The original safe stood empty in the back, surrounded by tables of chatty patrons. The trees lining the street were beginning to sprout green leaves and birds were busy gathering materials for their nests.

“So, Pete, how’s Angie?” 

“Well,” he hesitated. “Let’s just say Angie...is now Pattie.” 

“I see,” Barry replied. “The revolving door has turned again.”

Barry coughed into his napkin then took a sip of water. He glanced down at the blood splattered linen, then spirited it into his pocket and stood up from the table. 

“You okay?” Peter asked.

“I am fine,” he answered. “Something just went down the wrong pipe. I better run. Thanks for breakfast.”

 

About the Author:


William McNally is a former executive, husband and animal advocate based in the mountains of Dahlonega, Georgia. Drawn to dark and thought provoking stories, he released his first book, Four Corners Dark in 2012 and recently followed it with his second, Beneath the Veil. Visit him online at williammcnallybooks.com for updates and events.

Look for William's next release, The Knights of Moonshine, spring 2014.








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