THE FRUGAL FIND OF THE DAY: Paphos 1, N.R. Burnette {$0.99}

Sponsored Post

N.R. Burnette’s Frugal Find Under Nine:

Description of Paphos 1:

When Austin brought his daughter to the unexplored planet Paphos, it was supposed to give him a chance to reconnect with her. But when he and his crew of scientists discover an alien facility, all of that changes. Eager to become rich, the crew ventures inside, surrounded by the remnants an alien massacre. By the time they realize that something has been luring them in all along, it is already too late. Now Austin isn’t worried about reconnecting with his daughter, he’s worried about keeping her alive.

This book is part 1.

 

Accolades:

5 Star Reviews from Amazon:

From the very beginning until the end it was one of those books that once I started reading nothing else was accomplished.

I was captivated from the very beginning!!! 

Engaging and fresh story by an upcoming science fiction author. I see Paphos as the next step in the evolution of N.R. Burnette’s career. Looking forward to where he takes us…

Reviews:

Paphos 1 currently has an Amazon reader review rating of 4.7 stars from 9 reviews. Read the reviews here.

 

An excerpt from Paphos 1:

Carolina blinked. There was a wall here, buried into the hillside.
This was interesting, she had discovered a new place or something. But then Carolina’s face grew puzzled. She thought they said no one else had ever been here? She was certain they said that. Didn’t they? Wasn’t that the point of coming here?
Carolina blinked again, trying to remember what the grownups had talked about. She was certain they said something like that. She went to scratch her head, but her breath froze when she saw something move out of the corner of her eye. Carolina whipped her head around, frightened by the suddenness of it. But nothing was there, just trees and bushes, unless the forest had eyes. Carolina took a moment and tried to relax. She was just a kid, she knew there must be a logical reason for what she found. Obviously someone had been here before, or the wall wouldn’t be there. She would just have to go ask her dad, assuming she wasn’t going to be grounded for traveling this far.
When her fear subsided she followed the long stretch of black steel to see where it went. The hillside had mostly grown over it, giving it natural camouflage, and there wasn’t a window or door. She climbed around long gnarled tendrils of foliage, it reminded her of ancient ruins from Earth. She didn’t understand why they hadn’t seen this before landing, she thought they had different satellites that could read building materials and stuff. Now she knew she would have to ask her dad. He always had the answers, he was the scientist.
This felt like trespassing, and she still felt like someone was watching her. She continued to walk along the ominous black wall another thirty meters, wondering when she would reach the end. The more she walked the farther she felt from home. Finally the wall disappeared completely into the dirt and it didn’t resurface. She stopped for a moment to notice her reflection in the wall, surprised at how messy her hair looked. She was much farther beyond the second perimeter than she was supposed to be. Carolina bit her lip disappointingly. With a huff she realized it was time to tell her dad about it and walked back to the quadrohuts.
The walk back, a few kilometers it must have been, offered no greater relief from the feeling that she was being watched. She stopped and turned her head at so many shadows, so many branches swaying in the wind, each of them a looming figure in her imagination. If something else moved out of the corner of her eye she was likely to break out into a full run.
Finally she approached the quadrohuts and waited for the door to open. Upon entering she found the crew inside, all looking ill as they listened to Dmitry speak. Muster, they called it. Apparently Dmitry wasn’t happy with their progress, they were running out of time to make good on key projects that the company had commissioned them for. So many big words, being an adult didn’t seem very fun. Carolina didn’t understand why they couldn’t just stay until the job was done, not that she wanted any delays in their return home. Daddy mentioned something about a schedule, something about a launch window, gravity, alignment… he was never good at explaining simple questions with simple answers.
Carolina paced, wanting to interrupt, but daddy noticed and glared, so she waited. Dmitry was long winded tonight. Carolina sat down and out of boredom began to draw little circles and shapes on the wall next to her. Then, realizing what she was doing, she quickly put her markerpen away. All she could think about was what she had found. She wanted to go back but it was getting too late for today. She could at least go back tomorrow with her photolense and take some pictures this time. Dmitry’s voice drawled on. She was excited, knowing something that the others didn’t know, she wondered what else she might find. When muster was over Dublin and Athen sat at the tiny table they called the mess hall and ate, Austin and the others took their meals to their own rooms. Carolina decided to follow him, she grabbed a packaged ham slice and a juice. They ate in silence on the bottom bunk bed, she had a feeling even if she did say something he wouldn’t hear her. He had a far away gaze that didn’t break for many moments.

 

Paphos 1 is available for purchase at:

 Amazon Kindle for $0.99

 

Connect with N.R. Burnette:

Website: www.nrburnette.com

Facebook: www.facebook.com/nrburnette

Twitter: www.twitter.com/nickburnette

THE FRUGAL FIND OF THE DAY: Children of the Fog, Cheryl Kaye Tardif {$0.99 or Borrow FREE w/Prime!}

Sponsored Post

Cheryl Kaye Tardif ’s Frugal Find Under Nine:

Description of Children of the Fog:

• International & National Bestseller
• A Top 100 Paid Best Seller on Amazon
• #4 in Amazon Top 100 Paid Best Sellers overall (March 2012)
• Top 100 Bestseller in Thrillers, Suspense, Horror, Occult
• #1 Horror & #1 Occult

YOU HAVE 10 SECONDS TO MAKE A DECISION: Let A Kidnapper Take Your Child, Or Watch Your Son Die. Choose!

Sadie O’Connell is a bestselling author and a proud mother. But her life is about to spiral out of control. After her six-year-old son Sam is kidnapped by a serial abductor, she nearly goes insane. But it isn’t just the fear and grief that is ripping her apart. It’s the guilt. Sadie is the only person who knows what the kidnapper looks like. And she can’t tell a soul. For if she does, her son will be sent back to her in “little bloody pieces”.

When Sadie’s unfaithful husband stumbles across her drawing of the kidnapper, he sets into play a series of horrific events that sends her hurtling over the edge. Sadie’s descent into alcoholism leads to strange apparitions and a face-to-face encounter with the monster who abducted her son–a man known only as…The Fog.

*CHILDREN OF THE FOG has a unique tie-in to Tardif`s newest thriller, SUBMERGED.

 

Accolades:

“A chilling and tense journey into every parent’s deepest fear.” ―Scott Nicholson, author of The Red Church

“A nightmarish thriller with a ghostly twist, CHILDREN OF THE FOG will keep you awake…and turning pages!” ―Amanda Stevens, author of The Restorer

“Reminiscent of The Lovely Bones, Cheryl Kaye Tardif weaves a tale of terror that will have you rushing to check on your children as they sleep. With exquisite prose, Children of the Fog captures you the moment you begin and doesn’t let go until the very end.” ―bestselling author Danielle Q. Lee, author of Inhuman

“Cheryl Kaye Tardif knows the mind of a parent and makes us all want to believe the impossible…” —Eileen Schuh, author of Schrodinger’s Cat

“Cheryl Kaye Tardif has written the novel to launch herself into the company of best-selling authors. With Children of the Fog, she has taken her writing and her readers to another level…Ripe with engaging twists and turns reminiscent of the work of James Patterson, Tardif once again tugs at the most inflexible of heartstrings. True to form, she has created believable characters so tangible that you expect to see them at the local store. Complete with Canadian flavour, Children of the Fog possesses you from the touching beginning through to the riveting climax. Kudos to Ms. Tardif for bringing the world a read truly worth staying up all night to finish.” —Kelly Komm, author of the award-winning YA fantasy novel, Sacrifice.

“There are so many great things about this story…you won’t guess what happens. This wasn’t predictable and I ate it up.” —NovelOpinion

Reviews:

Children of the Fog currently has an Amazon reader review rating of 4.4 stars from 626 reviews. Read the reviews here.


An excerpt from Children of the Fog:

prologue

May 14th, 2007

She was ready to die.
She sat at the kitchen table, a half empty bottle of Philip’s precious red wine in one hand, a loaded gun in the other. Staring at the foreign chunk of metal, she willed it to vanish. But it didn’t.
Sadie checked the gun and noted the single bullet.
“One’s all you need.”
If she did it right.
She placed the gun on the table and glanced at a pewter-framed photograph that hung off-kilter above the mantle of the fireplace. It was illuminated by a vanilla-scented candle, one of many that threw flickering shadows over the rough wood walls of the log cabin.
Sam’s sweet face stared back at her, smiling.
Alive.
From where she sat, she could see the small chip in his right front tooth, the result of an impatient father raising the training wheels too early. But there was no point in blaming Philip―not when they’d both lost so much.
Not when it’s all my fault.
Her gaze swept over the mantle. There were three objects on it besides the candle. Two envelopes, one addressed to Leah and one to Philip, and the portfolio case that contained the illustrations and manuscript on disc for Sam’s book.
She had finished it, just like she had promised.
“And promises can’t be broken. Right, Sam?”
A single tear burned a path down her cheek.
Sam was gone.
What reason do I have for living now?
She gulped back the last pungent mouthful of Cabernet and dropped the empty bottle. It rolled under the chair, unbroken, rocking on the hardwood floor. Then all was silent, except the antique grandfather clock in the far corner. Its ticking reminded her of the clown’s shoe. The one with the tack in it.
Tick, tick, tick…
The clock belched out an ominous gong.
It was almost midnight.
Almost time.
She drew an infinity symbol in the dust on the table.
“Sadie and Sam. For all eternity.”
Gong…
She swallowed hard as tears flooded her eyes. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you, baby. I tried to. God, I tried. Forgive me, Sam.” Her words ended in a gut-wrenching moan.
Something scraped the window beside her.
She pressed her face to the frosted glass, then jerked back with a gasp. “Go away!”
They stood motionless―six children that drifted from the swirling miasma of night air, haunting her nights and every waking moment. Surrounded by the moonlit fog, they began to chant. “One fine day, in the middle of the night…”
“You’re not real,” she whispered.
“Two dead boys got up to fight.”
A small, pale hand splayed against the exterior of the window. Below it, droplets of condensation slid like tears down the glass.
She reached out, matching her hand to the child’s. Shivering, she pulled away. “You don’t exist.”
The clock continued its morbid countdown.
As the alcohol and drug potpourri kicked in, the room began to spin and her stomach heaved. She inhaled deeply. She couldn’t afford to get sick. Sam was waiting for her.
Tears spilled down her cheeks. “I’m ready.”
Gong…
Without hesitation, she raised the gun to her temple.
“Don’t!” the children shrieked.
She pressed the gun against her flesh. The tip of the barrel was cold. Like her hands, her feet…her heart.
A sob erupted from the back of her throat.
The clock let out a final gong. Then it was deathly silent.
It was midnight.
Her eyes found Sam’s face again.
“Happy Mother’s Day, Sadie.”
She took a steadying breath, pushed the gun hard against her skin and clamped her eyes shut.
“Mommy’s coming, Sam.”
She squeezed the trigger.

1

March 30th, 2007

Sadie O’Connell let out a snicker as she stared at the price tag on the toy in her hand. “What did they stuff this with, laundered money?” She tossed the bunny back into the bin and turned to the tall, leggy woman beside her. “What are you getting Sam for his birthday?”
Her best friend gave her a cocky grin. “What should I get him? Your kid’s got everything already.”
“Don’t even go there, my friend.”
But Leah was right. Sadie and Philip spoiled Sam silly. Why shouldn’t they? They had waited a long time for a baby. Or at least, she had. After two miscarriages, Sam’s birth had been nothing short of a miracle. A miracle that deserved to be spoiled.
Leah groaned loudly. “Christ, it’s a goddamn zoo in here.”
Toyz & Twirlz in West Edmonton Mall was crawling with overzealous customers. The first major sale of the spring season always brought people out in droves. Frazzled parents swarmed the toy store, swatting their wayward brood occasionally―the way you’d swat a pesky yellowjacket at a barbecue. One distressed father hunted the aisles for his son, who had apparently taken off on him as soon as his back was turned. In every aisle, parents shouted at their kids, threatening, cajoling, pleading and then predictably giving in.
“So who let the animals out?” Sadie said, surveying the store.
The screeching wheels of shopping carts and the constant whining of overtired toddlers were giving her a headache. She wished to God she’d stayed home.
“Excuse me.”
A plump woman with frizzy, over-bleached hair gave Sadie an apologetic look. She navigated past them, pushing a stroller occupied by a miniature screaming alien. A few feet away, she stopped, bent down and wiped something that looked like curdled rice pudding from the corner of the child’s mouth.
Sadie turned to Leah. “Thank God Sam’s past that stage.”
At five years old―soon to be six―her son was the apple of her eye. In fact, he was the whole darned tree. A lanky imp of a boy with tousled black hair, sapphire-blue eyes and perfect bow lips, Sam was the spitting image of his mother and the exact opposite of his father in temperament. While Sam was sweet natured, gentle and loving, Philip was impatient and distant. So distant that he rarely said I love you anymore.
She stared at her wedding ring. What happened to us?
But she knew what had happened. Philip’s status as a trial lawyer had grown, more money had poured in and fame had gone to his head. He had changed. The man she had fallen in love with, the dreamer, had gone. In his place was someone she barely knew, a stranger who had decided too late that he didn’t want kids.
Or a wife.
“How about this?” Leah said, nudging her.
Sadie stared at the yellow dump truck. “Fill it with a stuffed bat and Sam will think it’s awesome.”
Her son’s fascination with bats was almost comical. The television was always tuned in to the Discovery Channel while her son searched endlessly for any show on the furry animals.
“What did Phil the Pill get him?” Leah asked dryly.
“A new Leap Frog module.”
“I still can’t believe the things that kid can do.”
Sadie grinned. “Me neither.”
Sam’s mind was a sponge. He absorbed information so fast that he only had to be shown once. His powers of observation were so keen that he had learned how to unlock the door just by watching Sadie do it, so Philip had to add an extra deadbolt at the top. By the time Sam was three, he had figured out the remote control and the DVD player. Sadie still had problems turning on the TV.
Sam…my sweet, wonderful, little genius.
“Maybe I’ll get him a movie,” Leah said. “How about Batman Begins?”
“He’s turning six, not sixteen.”
“Well, what do I know? I don’t have kids.”
At thirty-four, Leah Winters was an attractive, willowy brunette with wild multi-colored streaks, thick-lashed hazel eyes, a flirty smile and a penchant for younger men. While Sadie’s pale face had a scattering of tiny freckles across the bridge of her nose and cheekbones, Leah’s complexion was tanned and clear.
She’d been Sadie’s best friend for eight years―soul sistahs. Ever since the day she had emailed Sadie out of the blue to ask questions about writing and publishing. They’d met at Book Ends, a popular Edmonton bookstore, for what Leah had expected would be a quick coffee. Their connection was so strong and so immediate that they talked for almost five hours. They still joked about it, about how Leah had thought Sadie was some hotshot writer who wouldn’t give her the time of day. Yet Sadie had given her more. She’d given Leah a piece of her heart.
A rugged, handsome Colin Farrell look-alike passed them in the aisle, and Leah stared after him, eyes glittering.
“I’ll take one of those,” she said with a soft growl. “To go.”
“You won’t find Mr. Right in a toy store,” Sadie said dryly. “They’re usually all taken. And somehow I don’t think you’re gonna find him at Karma either.”
Klub Karma was a popular nightclub on Whyte Avenue. It boasted the best ladies’ night in Edmonton, complete with steroid-muscled male strippers. Leah was a regular.
“And why not?”
Sadie rolled her eyes. “Because Karma is packed with sweaty, young puppies who are only interested in one thing.”
Leah gave her a blank look.
“Getting laid,” Sadie added. “Honestly, I don’t know what you see in that place.”
“What, are you daft?” Leah arched her brow and grinned devilishly. “I’m chalking it up to my civil duty. Someone’s gotta show these young guys how it’s done.”
“Someone should show Philip,” Sadie muttered.
“Why―can’t he get it up?”
“Jesus, Leah!”
“Well? Fess up.”
“Later maybe. When we stop for coffee.”
Leah glanced at her watch. “We going to our usual place?”
“Of course. Do you think Victor would forgive us if we went to any other coffee shop?”
Leah chuckled. “No. He’d start skimping on the whipped cream if we turned traitor. So what are you getting Sam?”
“I’ll know it when I see it. I’m waiting for a sign.”
“You’re always such a sucker for this fate thing.”
Sadie shrugged. “Sometimes you have to have faith that things will work out.”
They continued down the aisle, both searching for something for the sweetest boy they knew. When Sadie spotted the one thing she was sure Sam would love, she let out a hoot and gave Leah an I-told-you-so look.
“This bike is perfect. Since his birthday is actually on Monday, I’ll give it to him then. He’ll get enough things from his friends at his party on Sunday anyway.”
Little did she know that Sam wouldn’t see his bike.
He wouldn’t be around to get it.

 

Children of the Fog is available for purchase at:

 Amazon Kindle for $0.99 or Borrow FREE w/Prime!

 

Connect with Cheryl Kaye Tardif:

Website: http://www.cherylktardif.com

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/cherylktardif

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Cheryl-Kaye-Tardif-novels/29769736630

THE FRUGAL FIND OF THE DAY: The Painted Darkness, Brian James Freeman {$0.99}

Sponsored Post

Brian James Freeman‘s Frugal Find Under Nine:

Description of The Painted Darkness:

The Painted Darkness: A Novella

When Henry was a child, something terrible happened in the woods behind his home, something so shocking he could only express his grief by drawing pictures of what he had witnessed. Eventually Henry’s mind blocked out the bad memories, but he continued to draw, often at night by the light of the moon.

Twenty years later, Henry makes his living by painting his disturbing works of art. He loves his wife and his son and life couldn’t be better… except there’s something not quite right about the old stone farmhouse his family now calls home. There’s something strange living in the cramped cellar, in the maze of pipes that feed the ancient steam boiler.

A winter storm is brewing and soon Henry will learn the true nature of the monster waiting for him down in the darkness. He will battle this demon and, in the process, he may discover what really happened when he was a child and why, in times of trouble, he thinks: I paint against the darkness.

But will Henry learn the truth in time to avoid the terrible fate awaiting him… or will the thing in the cellar get him and his family first?

Written as both a meditation on the art of creation and as an examination of the secret fears we all share, The Painted Darkness is a terrifying look at the true cost we pay when we run from our grief—and what happens when we’re finally forced to confront the monsters we know all too well.

 

 Accolades:

“The tone and building dread reminded me of classic Stephen King. Great velocity and impact, and super creepy. Don’t go in the basement!”
— Stewart O’Nan, New York Times bestselling author of The Night Country and A Prayer for the Dying

“Spooky stuff!”
— Richard Matheson, New York Times bestselling author of I Am Legend

“Brian James Freeman’s evocative tale about the dark corners of an artist’s imagination is elegant and haunting.”
— David Morrell, New York Times bestselling author of The Shimmer

“The Painted Darkness is a dark, terrifying, and deeply moving gem of a novella. Brian James Freeman managed to both scare me and move me to tears.”
— Tess Gerritsen, New York Times bestselling author of The Keepsake

“Wonderfully reminiscent of the quiet horror of Charles L. Grant, The Painted Darkness takes readers on a gently chilly walk through the forest of fears both conscious and subconscious. A very impressive achievement.”
— Bentley Little, award-winning author of The House and His Father’s Son

“The Painted Darkness delves into territory that fascinates so many of us — the fine lines between beauty and horror, faith and fear, art and the unconscious. Both a wonderful allegory and a gripping read, Brian James Freeman has written a taut, memorable tale.”
– Michael Koryta, New York Times bestselling author of So Cold the River and The Cypress House

 

Reviews:

The Painted Darkness currently has an Amazon reader review rating of 4.6 stars from 74 reviews. Read the reviews here.


An excerpt from The Painted Darkness:

Just start at the beginning, Henry’s father once told him, and the rest will take care of itself.

These words of wisdom came during the waning hours of a beautiful March day when Henry was five years old, a day that began with a gift from Mother Nature and ended with the little boy running home as fast as his legs would carry him, bounding through the snowdrifts and dodging the thorny branches lining the path through the woods.

Once inside the safety of his family’s home at the end of Maple Lane, Henry fell to the hardwood floor in his bedroom, exhausted, his skin scratched, the wounds burning like they were on fire. His hands were bruised and bloody.

Henry crawled under his bed and closed his eyes and he prayed like he had never prayed before. Not the type of praying he did at bedtime every night as his mother watched, and not the generic prayers he said every week in church with the rest of the congregation. For the first time in his life, he was directing his message straight to God Himself, and Henry’s request was simple: please send a mighty angel to undo what had been done.

An hour later, the room grew dark as the sun vanished behind the mountains to the west, but Henry hadn’t moved an inch. Exhaustion and fear wouldn’t allow him. He still wore his yellow rain slicker; his clothing was soaked in sweat; his face was damp with tears. The snow melting off his winter boots had trickled across the hardwood floor, forming a puddle of dirty water.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Henry heard the house’s front door open and close. A few minutes passed, but he didn’t dare move. He held his breath as he listened to the floorboards creaking through the house. The footsteps stopped outside his room and Henry almost couldn’t bring himself to watch as the door swung open.

A pair of heavy work boots crossed the room, every step a dull thud, and Henry let out a small cry. The boots stopped. The man’s pants were stained with grease and grime and bleach. He took a knee next to the puddle of melted snow and, after a brief moment, he reached under the bed with his weathered, callused hand.

Henry grabbed onto the giant hand and his father pulled him out in one quick, smooth motion. He hadn’t turned the lights on yet, but a bright beam of moonlight sliced the bedroom in half.

Henry stared into his father’s big eyes, which seemed to glow in the sparkling light. His father was a bear of a man, but he gently lifted Henry and sat him on the bed like someone moving the most delicate of antiques. Henry sobbed while his father rocked him in his enormous arms, but for a while this did nothing to make the little boy feel better.

His father whispered, “It’ll be okay, Henry. Just start at the beginning and the rest will take care of itself.”

Henry, still shaking, told his father what had pushed him to the brink of his sanity that beautiful March afternoon: a series of events so terrible he wouldn’t allow himself to remember them once he grew up. He did his best to describe what had caused him to run as fast as he could through the woods and to hide under the bed, as if the bed might protect him from the horrors he had witnessed. As if the monsters would leave him alone there.

“Son,” his father said when Henry had finished, “the monsters don’t live in the dark corners waiting to pounce on us. They live deep in our heart. But we can fight them. I promise you, we can fight them and we can win.”

Henry listened to his father’s words, which were soothing and comforting and wise. His father suggested Henry get a piece of paper and some crayons. He said, “I know something that’ll help you feel better.”

Henry did as his father instructed and before the night was over he would be repeating a mantra: I paint against the darkness.

Those words made Henry feel strong in a way he couldn’t describe. The words opened doors within his mind; they set him free and gave him courage to face the night.

But in the end would that courage and his father’s wisdom be enough to truly save Henry from the monsters he feared so much? Or had he just delayed the inevitable?

The answers to those questions wouldn’t be determined for another twenty years.

 

The Painted Darkness is available for purchase at:

Amazon Kindle for $0.99

 

Connect with Brian James Freeman:

Author Website: http://www.BrianJamesFreeman.com

Author Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/BrianJamesFreeman

Author Twitter Page: https://twitter.com/BrianFreeman

THE FRUGAL FIND OF THE DAY: Repeaters, Erica Ferencik {$4.99 or Borrow FREE w/Prime!}

Sponsored Post

Erica Ferenciks Frugal Find Under Nine:

Description of Repeaters:

Repeaters are everywhere.

Their bodies bear the marks of their death: a gunshot scar, a rope burn at the neck, the slash of a knife. They are the murdered among us; slipping out of one life and instantly forced into another, and another. Nothing will free them from this endless cycle of return, except to love another human being.

Of all Repeaters, one has come back more than any of the others. Ruthless, charismatic Dr. Astra Nathanson seems to have everything – a brilliant career as a psychiatrist, wealth and great beauty. But her inability to love has doomed her to an endless half-life as a Repeater.

Until now.

This time, she will do anything to have the love she needs for a final demise, even if she has to betray her own flesh and blood to claim it.

 

Accolades:

Named to Kirkus Reviews Best of 2012
Recently optioned for a feature film

“With prose this poetic, it’s easy to forget that this is a horror story…more than a battle of good and evil, Ferencik’s story is rich with layers, well developed characters, and moments of gruesomeness and tenderness. A petrifying tale of a chain of reincarnations.” – Starred Kirkus Review

“Mary Shelley gave us Frankenstein and Erica Ferencik gives us Dr. Astra Nathanson in Repeaters…This is one scary story that readers who like their thrills bloody will love.” – Alan Caruba, Bookviews

“Repeaters is the story of black and murderous love, a cautionary tale that is often terrifying and truly unforgettable. You’ll be riveted by this bold and brilliant novel.” – Mary E. Mitchell, Love in Complete Sentences

“Repeaters is an original and much recommended novel, not to be missed.” – James Cox, Midwest Book Review

“Astra is one of the most monstrous villains ever written.” – Margot Huysen, Blogcritics

“Repeaters is terrifying new novel that takes you to the darkest netherworlds of the human heart. Not a book to begin at night if you need to sleep before dawn.” – Robert Tremblay, Gatehouse Media

“A chilling, suspenseful, erotic read.” – Chris Mooney, Remembering Sarah

“A wild read – sexy, scary and smart…a one-of-a-kind take on reincarnation.” – William Walsh, Questionstruck

“An exciting new voice in horror.” – Betsy Fitzgerald, October Run

“A riveting supernatural thriller filled with reincarnation, romance, and the vilest villainess this reader has ever encountered. Truly, a chilling page-turner!” – Jeffrey Thomas, Deadstock

 

Reviews:

Repeaters currently has a customer review rating of 4.9 stars from 27 reviews. Read the reviews here.


Repeaters is available for purchase at:

Amazon Kindle for $4.99 or Borrow FREE w/Prime!

 

An excerpt from Repeaters:

Afterwards he slept, his arm leaden across her shoulders. Astra lifted it off her, pulled on his workshirt and stepped out to the bathroom where she flipped on the overhead light. Staring at herself in the mirror, she slowly opened the shirt, all the time willing her skin to stay normal, smooth, unmarked. A little trick she had always been able to perform but lately there had been surprises…in the shower…changing rooms in clothing stores…on the beach…the shock of the past rising up on her skin.

She locked eyes with herself. Seconds passed, a minute, two; she became dizzy, pain stabbed at her skull and still she stared, praying, commanding her body to obey, for her skin to stay unblemished and beautiful. Sweat gathered at her skull and dripped down between her breasts. She began to shake; she gripped the sink to still herself. Her image doubled in the mirror, quadrupled, until all the Astras blurred together and she swooned and fell back against the door, sliding down to the cold tile. With great effort she lifted her head off her chest and tried to open her eyes. The bolts holding down the toilet swam into focus.

Already knowing she’d lost the fight, she reached inside her shirt and felt the skin on her torso. It wasn’t right. Already it was changing. Gagging, she pulled herself to her knees and threw up in the toilet bowl. She cried as she cleaned herself, needing some sort of plan but bereft of one. She had gotten away with it this time, but in the end she knew it would never again be safe to show him her body in the light.

 

Repeaters is available for purchase at:

Amazon Kindle for $4.99 or Borrow FREE w/Prime!


Connect with Erica Ferencik:

THE FRUGAL FIND OF THE DAY: Alice in Deadland, Mainak Dhar {$0.99 or Borrow FREE w/Prime!}

Sponsored Post

Mainak Dhar‘s Frugal Find Under Nine:

Description of Alice in Deadland:

The sensational Amazon.com bestseller. #1 Science Fiction and Horror bestseller. More than 50,000 copies sold in less than three months.

Civilization as we know it ended more than fifteen years ago, leaving as it’s legacy barren wastelands called the Deadland and a new terror for the humans who survived- hordes of undead Biters.

Fifteen year-old Alice has spent her entire life in the Deadland, her education consisting of how best to use guns and knives in the ongoing war for survival against the Biters. One day, Alice spots a Biter disappearing into a hole in the ground and follows it, in search of fabled underground Biter bases.

What Alice discovers there propels her into an action-packed adventure that changes her life and that of all humans in the Deadland forever. An adventure where she learns the terrible conspiracy behind the ruin of humanity, the truth behind the origin of the Biters, and the prophecy the mysterious Biter Queen believes Alice is destined to fulfill.

A prophecy based on the charred remains of the last book in the Deadland- a book called Alice in Wonderland.

Now also available:
Through The Killing Glass (Alice in Deadland Book II)
Off With Their Heads (The prequel to Alice in Deadland)

Accolades:

“ALICE IN DEADLAND is a fast paced, creative zombie tale.”
- Reads A Lot Book Reviews

“Alice in Deadland may be a ‘zombie-like’ story, but it is a metaphorical tale of how we tend to demonize that which we do not understand. It is obvious that there are socio-economic and geopolitical undercurrents in the story line and shadows of colonialism, post-colonialism, jingoism, and intolerance. If you can read between the lines and see the deeper meaning to the story, Alice in Deadland is a wonderfully entertaining ebook.”
- eNovel Reviews

“Words to live by: Eat all your vegetables. Exercise like a fiend. Sleep a solid seven to eight hours a day. Never, ever read Alice in Deadland before you sleep. Ever. Because if you do make the mistake of idly perusing the first page, you’re going to want to finish the last and that, ladies and gentlemen, is a foul surprise to learn on a work day. An unusual blend of the zombie mythos, conspiracy theories and Lewis Caroll, Alice in Deadland is self-proclaimed ‘cubicle worker by day, author by night’ Mainak Dhar’s most recent offering and one of the best reinterpretations of the childhood fable yet.”
- Kindlefu.com

Reviews:

Alice in Deadland currently has an Amazon reader review rating of 3.6 stars from 338 reviews. Read the reviews here.

 

Blood and Honour – The Battle for Saxony is available for purchase at:

Amazon Kindle for $0.99 or Borrow FREE w/Prime!

 

An excerpt from Alice in Deadland:

ONE

Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the hill, and of having no Biters to shoot. Once or twice she peeped through her sniper rifle’s scope, but could see no targets. ‘What is the use of an ambush,’ thought Alice, ‘without any Biters to shoot in the head?’

Alice was fifteen, and had been born just three months after The Rising. Her older sister and parents sometimes talked of how the world had been before. They talked of going to the movies, of watching TV, of taking long drives in the countryside, of school. Alice could relate to none of that. The only life she had known was one of hiding from the Biters. The only education that she knew to be useful consisted of three simple lessons: if a Biter bites you, you will become one of them; if a Biter bites someone you know, it doesn’t matter whether that person was your best friend; they were now a Biter and would rip your throat out in a heartbeat; and if you could take only one shot, aim for the head. Only the head. Nothing else would put a Biter down for good.

So here she was, lying on a small hillock, her rifle at her shoulder, waiting to pick off any stragglers who escaped the main force. The first few years of her life had been one of hiding, and of surviving from one day to another. But then the humans had begun to regroup and fight back, and the world had been engulfed in a never-ending war between the living and the undead. Alice’s parents were part of the main assault force that was now sweeping through a group of Biters that had been spotted near their settlement. She could hear the occasional pop of guns firing, but so far no Biters had come their way. Her sister was lying quietly, as always obedient and somber. Alice could not imagine just lying here, getting bored when the action was elsewhere, so she crawled away to the edge of the small hill they were on and peered through her scope, trying to get a glimpse of the action.

That’s when she saw him. The Biter was wearing pink bunny ears of all things. That in itself did not strike Alice as strange. When someone was bitten and joined the undead, they just continued to wear what they had been wearing when they were turned. Perhaps this one had been at a party when he had been bitten. The first Biter she had shot had been wearing a tattered Santa Claus suit. Unlike kids before The Rising, she had not needed her parents to gently break the news that Santa Claus was not real. What was truly peculiar about this Biter was that he was not meandering about mindlessly but seemed to be looking for something. The Biters were supposed to be mindless creatures, possessed of no intelligence other than an overpowering hunger to bite the living. She braced herself, centering the crosshairs of her scope on the Biter’s head. He was a good two hundred meters away and moving fast, so it was hardly going to be an easy shot.

That’s when the Biter with the bunny ears dropped straight into the ground.

Alice looked on, transfixed, and then without thinking of what she was getting into, ran towards the point where the Biter had seemingly been swallowed up by the ground. Her heart was pounding as she came closer. For months there had been rumors that the Biters had created huge underground bases where they hid and from which they emerged to wreak havoc. There were stories of entire human armies being destroyed by Biters who suddenly materialized out from the ground and then disappeared. However, nobody had yet found such a base and these stories were largely dismissed as being little more than fanciful fairy tales. Had Alice managed to find such a base?

Her excitement got the better of her caution, and she ran on alone. She should have alerted her sister, she should have called for reinforcements, she should have done a lot of things. But at that moment, all she remembered was where the Biter had dropped into the ground and of what would happen if she had truly found an underground Biter base. She was an excellent shot, far better than most of the adults in the settlement, and she was fast. If there was one thing she had been told by all her teachers since she started training, it was that she was a born fighter. She could put a man twice her size on the mat in the wink of an eye, and she had shown her mettle in numerous skirmishes against the Biters. Yet, she was not allowed to lead raids far from the settlement. That had always grated, but with her father being one of the leaders of the settlement, she was unable to do anything to change that. He claimed that her excellent shooting and scouting skills were better used in d efensive roles close to their settlement, and had promised her that when she was older he would reconsider, but she knew that was a nervous father speaking, not the leader of their settlement.

This could change all that.

Suddenly she felt the ground give way under her and she felt herself falling. She managed to hold onto her rifle, but found herself sliding down a smooth, steep and curving slope. There seemed to be no handholds or footholds for her to slow her descent or to try and climb back up. She looked up to see the hole through which light was streaming in disappear as the tunnel she was falling down curved and twisted.

Alice screamed as she continued falling in utter darkness.

***

It took Alice a few minutes to get her bearings, as she was totally disoriented in the dark and also winded by her fall. She saw that her fall had been broken by a thick cushioning of branches and leaves. She had heard whispers that the Biters were not the mindless drones that many adults dismissed them to be, but those accounts had been dismissed by most people as fanciful tales. She wondered if there was some truth to those rumors after all. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness she saw a sliver of light to her right and crawled towards it. As she went deeper into the tunnel, while she still could not see much, the smell was unmistakable. The rotten stench that she knew came from only one possible source: the decayed bodies of the undead. Even though she had seen the aftermath of many a skirmish with the Biters and was no stranger to the stench, she found herself gagging. As she came closer to the light, she saw that the tunnel opened into a small room that was lit by crudel y fashioned torches hung on the walls.

She could hear some voices and as she peeped around the corner, she saw that the rabbit-eared Biter she had followed down was in animated conversation with two others. One of them was, or rather had been in life, perhaps a striking young woman. Now her skin was yellowing and decayed and hung in loose patches on her face. Her clothes were tattered and bloodied. The other Biter with her was a plump, short man who seemed to have the better part of his left side torn off, perhaps by a mine or a grenade. Alice had been around weapons for as long as she could remember, and while all humans now needed to be able to defend themselves, Alice had shown a special talent for fighting, perhaps one her mother did not always approve of. Her mother had wanted Alice to do as the other young people did and stand on guard duty close to the settlements, but Alice had always wanted to be in the forefront, to feel the thrill that came with it. Now, Alice thought, she had perhaps got more thrills t han she had ever bargained for. She was trapped in an underground Biter base, with no apparent way out.

The Biters were talking in a mixture of growls and moans, but they seemed to be communicating with each other. Now that she got a closer look at the rabbit-eared Biter she had followed in, she realized that he had been in life not much older than her. Perhaps he had been on his way to a costume party when he had been bitten. As he turned his head, Alice saw what may have once been a smile now replaced by a feral grin that revealed bloodied teeth.

Alice’s heart stopped as Bunny Ears looked straight at her. For a second she hoped that he had not seen her, but he bared his teeth and emitted a screeching howl that sent a shiver up her spine. As all three Biters turned to look at her, she exploded into action.

Alice’s grasp of the alphabet may have been tenuous despite her mother’s many failed attempts to teach her the languages of yore. But after The Rising, Alice saw no use for them; there were no books to read, and no time to read them even if they had remained. But what Alice excelled in school at, and could do almost without conscious thought, was how to thumb the safety off her handgun and bring it up to a two handed hold within three seconds. The first shot took the fat Biter squarely in the forehead and he went down with an unceremonious flop. As the two others bore down on her in the slight loping, lumbering gait the Biters were known for, she fired again and again, the shots from her gun echoing in the underground cavern. She hit the female Biter at least twice in the chest and then knocked her flat with a head shot. Bunny Ears was now barely a few feet away when Alice’s handgun clicked empty. She cursed under her breath at her horrible aim, realizing just how much easier it was to shoot at targets in practice or snipe from hundreds of meters away compared to being so close to Biters out for her blood, and with her heart hammering so fast she could barely keep her hands straight, let alone aim.

Alice heard footsteps and howls behind her, and realized with a stab of panic that she was now well and truly trapped between Bunny Ears and others who may have come behind her down the hole.

She looked around frantically and saw a small opening in the wall to her right. She ran towards Bunny Ears, diving down at the last minute beneath his outstretched fingers, which were crusted over with dried blood. Alice stood only about five feet tall, and was lean, but she had been top of her class in unarmed combat. She swept her legs under the Biter, coming up in one seamless motion as Bunny Ears fell down in a heap. She ran towards the hole in the wall and turned around to see at least four more Biters coming behind her.

Alice fumbled at her belt and took the lone flash bang grenade she had slung there. As she ran into the hole she pulled the pin and rolled it on the ground behind her, and then continued to run at full speed into the darkness of the hole. She heard the thump of the grenade a few seconds later, hoping that the intense flash of light it emitted would slow down her pursuers for a few seconds and buy her some time.

With that hope came a sobering thought. Time to do what? She was stuck deep inside what seemed to be a Biter base, and was running ever deeper into its recesses. She was well and truly trapped.

***

Alice ran till she was out of breath and stopped, going down on her knees, more tired and scared than she had ever been. The darkness and narrowness of the passage she was in did not help, as it made her feel disoriented and claustrophobic. At least she could no longer hear footsteps behind her. That did not surprise her. While the flash bang would not stop the Biters, she knew they hated very bright light, and it would certainly have slowed them down. Also, she was a very fit young girl who could outrun most of the people in their settlement, whereas the Biters pursuing her, while feared for their feral violence, moved with their characteristic stiff, loping gait, which meant she would be able to outrun them in any flat out race. The problem was that she was trapped in their base, and all they had to do was to tire her out.

When she thought she heard distant footsteps behind her, her fear gave her a second wind and she started running again, clutching her side, which had begun to hurt from the exertion. She ran into a wall, and fell hard on her back, realizing that the tunnel turned ahead of her. As she looked past the turning, she saw what appeared to be a door framed by light coming from behind it. She ran towards it, and as she came closer, she was stunned to see a familiar figure drawn on the door. It was a seal showing an eagle framed by letters that were barely visible in the light coming from behind it. She started trying to read the letters and got past the U, N and I before she realized she did not need to tax her limited reading skills to understand what it showed. She had seen a similar seal in old papers her father kept locked away in a dusty box. Once he had told her something about him having worked in the United States Embassy in New Delhi before The Rising. She had understood lit tle of what he had meant, though other kids around the settlement had told her that her father had been some sort of important man in the governments of the Old World. They had told her that she and her family had come from another land called America, which was why her blond hair and fair skin looked so different from her brown friends. But none of that mattered much to Alice, or to anyone else anymore. The old governments and countries were long gone. Now all people, irrespective of their old countries, religions or politics were bound together in but one overriding compact: the need to survive in the face of the Biter hordes. She had heard tales of how human nations had waged wars against each other, driven by the gods they worshipped, or the desire to grab oil. Alice remembered laughing when her teacher at the makeshift school in the settlement had told her class about those days. She had thought her teacher was telling them some tall tales. What was it the old folks cal led them? The ones who had read the books before the undead rose and the world burned?

Yes, fairy tales.

When Alice heard footsteps behind her, she was snapped back to reality, and she struggled with the door in front of her, trying desperately to open it. She found a handle and pulled it with all her strength, and finally found the door budging. The door was made of heavy metal, and it sapped all her strength to open it enough for her to slip through. She looked back through the open door and heard the roars before she saw shadows appear in the tunnel. She pulled the door shut, hoping that what she had heard about Biters being stupid was right. That old joke about how many Biters it took to open a door.

She took a look around the room she was in and saw that it was lit by a single small kerosene lamp on the ceiling, and was filled with papers and files that crammed the shelves lining the walls. There was a small desk in a corner and when she walked to it, she saw some old newspapers on it. She had never seen a newspaper in her life, and was fascinated by the pictures and words she saw. She didn’t need to read the words to know what they showed. They were relics of the last days during The Rising and its aftermath. There were grainy pictures of the first appearances of the undead, which she imagined for those who had never seen before them must have been quite a sight. Then there were pictures of burnt and charred cities: the remains of the Great Fire that the human governments had unleashed on so many cities when it seemed like all was lost. That was the barren, bleak landscape that Alice had known as home: the wastelands outside New Delhi, where millions had died in th e Biter outbreak and then millions more as governments tried to contain the outbreak by using nuclear weapons on the key outbreak centers. Man had proven to be the most jealous of lovers, preferring to destroy the Earth rather than give her up. But it had not been enough, and in the fires of that apocalypse was born a renewed struggle for survival between humans and the undead in the wasteland that was now known simply as the Deadland.

Alice had been so transfixed by what she saw that she had forgotten all about securing the other doors to the room, and she screamed in agony when she realized that there was another door, partially obscured by a chair, which was ajar. She heard footsteps behind it, and realized that what she had taken for escape was in fact nothing more than a death trap.

She took out her handgun from her belt and as she felt for the safety, remembered with dismay that in all the chaos she had forgotten to reload. As she saw shadows enter the door, she realized she had no time for that any more. She unslung the sniper rifle from her shoulders. As such close quarters, there was no hope of her putting it to much use as a long range weapon, but there were other ways to make it count.

As a child, Alice had forever been getting into scrapes, and her parents would never tire of telling her to back down once in a while, instead of wading into every fight. But once, after she had shot two Biters during a night-time raid, her father had got quite drunk to celebrate and told her that he loved her spirit and that no matter what the odds, she should never give into fear. To be afraid in the face of the undead was to die, or worse, to become one of them.

As Alice remembered her father’s words, she felt her fear slip away. She knew that the Biters tried to bite and turn every human they found, but also that the humans who fought back the hardest sometimes enraged them so much that they ripped them apart, killing them instead of turning them into the undead.

Better dead than undead.

That had been the motto of the school where they had been taught survival and combat skills. Whereas little girls before The Rising may have been playing with their toys or watching TV, Alice had grown up playing with guns, explosives and learning the best way to destroy the undead. And she had been the best in her class.

She was now swinging the rifle in front of her like a staff, moving it around her fingers so it cut sharp circles through the air. Three Biters came in, and as the first reached for her, she cracked him across the forehead and leaned toward him, sweeping his legs under him as he went down. The next up was a squat woman wearing the tattered, bloody remains of a saree, and incongruously enough, a huge diamond solitaire earring on her left ear. The right ear was missing. Alice delivered a roundhouse kick that sent Ms. Solitaire stumbling back and then reversed the sniper rifle in her hand, firing a single shot that disintegrated the Biter’s head. The third Biter, a tall man with his jaw missing, was almost upon her when she hit him hard in the face with the butt of her rifle. Biters might feel no pain, but it unbalanced him enough for Alice to jump back a few steps and put another round into his chest. Only a head shot would put down a Biter for good, but a high powered sni per rifle bullet did impressive enough damage and slowed one down no matter where it hit. A gaping hole opened in the Biter’s chest as he slumped back. Alice knew he’d be at her throat soon enough so she tried to chamber another round in her rifle.

That was when she felt her right arm caught in a cold, clammy grip that was so strong she screamed and dropped her rifle. Bunny Ears was back and he was bringing his face back to bite her arm. Alice kicked him in the shin, but he did not even wince as he came closer to delivering the bite that would be the last thing Alice felt before she became one of them.

Alice did the last thing he perhaps expected. She head-butted him, and as he staggered back and loosened his grip on her arm, she vaulted over the desk and stood with her back to the wall. There were now no less than six Biters gathered in front of her, and Alice suppressed the welling panic within as she unsheathed the curved hunting knife that was always by her side. Bunny Ears snarled and screamed in rage, a hellish concerto that was soon taken up by all the Biters in the room. Alice had heard of this ritual before. It meant the Biters were going to rip some human apart instead of trying to convert them. Alice reversed the knife in her right hand and stood with her legs slightly spread apart, just as she had mastered in countless hours of unarmed combat practice. Her teacher there had been some sort of elite commando in the armies of the old governments, and he had told her she was his best student. She slowed her breathing, focusing on the creatures in front of her, tryin g to block out her fear, trying to still her mind. As Bunny Ears stepped toward her, she gripped the knife handle tight and readied herself. Better dead than undead.

***

Alice in Deadland is available for purchase at:

Amazon Kindle for $0.99 or Borrow FREE w/Prime!

 

Connect with Mainak Dhar:

Author Website: www.mainakdhar.com

Author Facebook Page: http://www.facebook.com/groups/345795412099089/

Author Twitter Page: @mainakdhar

THE FRUGAL FIND OF THE DAY: EMBRYO, J.A. Schneider {$2.99}

Sponsored Post

J.A. Schneider‘s Frugal Find Under Nine:

Description of EMBRYO:

Terror and tragedy in the Obstetrics Dept of a major hospital. An intern determines to investigate.

 

Accolades:

“The writing is superb, the action tense, the characters fully developed, and the research for EMBRYO flawless.” Gail M Baugniet, Author of For Every Action

“When this book is described as a ‘wild ride,’ that is no understatement! If this were a movie, you would never take your eyes off the screen!” VStrawmier

“I picked Embryo up and did NOT expect such a brilliant story. The plot is fantastic and I was gripped from beginning to end. I read it in one sitting, unable to put it down. I even read while cooking, walking to get a drink–the book went everywhere I did. The pace is excellent, the writing stellar, and the tension is so high in places if I had any nails left I’d have bitten them off.” M Ellis


Amazon Reader Reviews:

EMBRYO currently has a Amazon reader review rating of 4.6 stars, with 48 reviews! Read the reviews here!

 

EMBRYO is available for purchase at:

Amazon Kindle for $2.99

Excerpt from EMBRYO:

I.

Maria Moran’s first inkling of trouble was the coppery taste in her mouth. It came suddenly, a rushing whoosh of something that made her gag, and when she reached up to wipe her mouth, her hand came away smeared with blood.
“What…?” She heard her own high voice. Stopping in her tracks, she stood motionless, staring down in panic at the bright crimson smudge on her hand. Around her, on the sidewalk of Third Avenue in New York City, Monday morning pedestrians jostled past her, but she was oblivious to them, oblivious even to the fact that a moment before she had been worried she’d be late for work.
A hurrying young man in shirtsleeves bumped into her. “Fer crying out – oops, sorry.” Maria looked to see him staring down at her great, melon belly. “Jeez lady, you shouldn’t stan’ there like that!”
Flustered, he rushed off and was swallowed by the crowd.
At Sixtieth Street the light was red. Out of habit, Maria stood a few feet away from the impatient crowd at the corner, overcautious as usual. Gums, she thought; try to relax. Probably every first-time mother feels like this. Stumbling over a curb, getting squeezed in an elevator – these were serious things in the Pregnant Lady Department. A faint, Madonna smile crept over her lips as she felt the baby kick. Saw the baby kick, she was certain – right through her white maternity dress with the lace eyelets that Ryan’s mom had insisted on buying for her. Ryan was so excited. They had fun in the evening, just thinking up names.
The light changed and she started to cross the avenue.
The first wave of dizziness caught her as she passed a jackhammer working near the curb. Swaying for a moment, she blamed her weakness on the July heat and the noise. A policeman flagging traffic around the work crew blew his whistle. Maria shook her head to clear it.
She made it to the yellow line before the second wave of dizziness came, and the avenue began turning slowly, sickeningly, on its axis. She grasped futilely at her shoulder bag. People pushed past her. As the dizziness subsided she noticed that the crowd in the crosswalk had thinned. She worried that the light was about to change.
“My God,” she said aloud. She took a step, then another, and was surprised that it was so hard because her feet had turned to granite blocks. A woman in a sleeveless dress shouldered past her and Maria stumbled.
“Hey! You okay?” A man coming up from behind stopped and grabbed her arm.
She blinked at him, trying to smile. “The heat,” she said. “I’ll be alright.”
“You better hurry,” he said, pointing. “Light’s gonna change.”
He rushed off, and in the next
moment Maria was sorry. In a swoop of nauseating terror she knew that her problem wasn’t the heat or bleeding gums or anything so absurdly simple. She was suddenly granite to the waist. The coppery taste came back, this time flooding her mouth too fast to swallow. She bent, gagging violently, put her hand over her mouth and felt a sticky wetness above her lip. Dazed, she looked at her hand again, then felt her nostrils streaming blood.
A nosebleed?
Horns blared, startling her upright again. The flashing red sign had turned to DON’T WALK. Through a blur she saw a line of glinting fenders begin to move toward her.
A whistle. A man’s shout. The intersection was suddenly clogged with traffic, and as she crumpled to the pavement she thought she saw cars swirling around her. From somewhere came a squeal of brakes, and then another.
“Help me!” Her words came out in a feeble cry. She began to crawl on her hands and knees.
Then the pain in her middle came. Not a little, crampy pain, the way contractions were supposed to start, but a queer, viselike tightening, as hard as a rock.
Too soon! Not time yet! Through a fog she saw men running toward her shouting; felt their hands on her, under her arms, lifting, but she could only focus on the pain. Getting tighter, unbearable. Weren’t contractions supposed to let up? This was not what her mother and sister had described to her. Jesus, help me! She was
vaguely aware of two men carrying her, a policeman and a man in a yellow hard hat, but her eyes came unfocused as the pain became more agonizing.
She felt herself lowered to hot pavement, saw feet crowding around and hands reaching down to her. The cop holding her was yelling for an ambulance. The final pain hit and she screamed. An explosion of knives went off in her belly. She felt the soft, warm mass well up below and pour rapidly down her thighs. She screamed again.
“They’re coming honey, they’re coming,” the cop said. A middle-aged woman was on her knees, stroking Maria’s arm, too rapidly, her eyes full of horror. Through the haze Maria tried to see the woman, and saw instead her own white dress, turning red.
“Help me,” she whimpered, but her voice sounded slow, far away. Her last conscious thought was hearing the wail of an approaching siren.
Then her head fell back, and blackness closed in.

2.

Twenty blocks away, Madison Hospital Medical Center rose in shimmering white blocks above waves of heat, inspiring fear and fascination in people who passed. Not everyone stopped, but many looked at the imposing buildings with nervous, sideways flicks of the eye that acknowledged the world fame of the place; and the gratitude that, today at least, they were on the outside and not the inside.
At that moment Dr. Jill Raney would have preferred being on the outside. Standing in the hall outside the obstetrical suite, she tried not to look too destroyed as she watched her fellow interns troop out of the Special Procedures Room. Ten minutes ago she had nearly blown it. Four years of brutal studies in med school, working hard enough to graduate with top honors, and now this.
She leaned on a gurney and wondered: would it be professional suicide to have a shouting match with one’s academic superior, right here on the ward floor?
“Thinks he’s God’s gift,” she muttered.
“Huh?” from beside her.
Chubby-cheeked Tricia Donovan, her friend since med school, was also in a blue scrub suit, stethoscope and surgical cap, peering up at Jill from behind wire-rimmed glasses. They were both July interns – beginners all
over again, raw recruits. About as much appreciated by the older doctors as an outbreak of hepatitis.
Jill turned her remarkable green eyes to her friend. “Nothing,” she said.
“Oh.” Tricia’s round face resumed its look of furious concentration and she went back to scribbling on her clipboard. Jill watched her ruefully. Nothing ever destroyed Tricia’s ability to concentrate.
It was nine o’clock; three babies had been delivered in the last hour alone, and today’s schedule of gynecological surgery was unusually crowded. Nurses rushed up and down the corridor, pushing medication tables and baskets full of bloody linen. Patients, drowsy from the effects of medication, lay parked on gurneys in various staging areas, some just coming out of surgery, others going in.
Watching the corridor bustle, Jill brooded about how everyone else seemed so briskly confident. She felt close to tears, and fought them down.
A clatter of gurney wheels caused her to straighten, and look in the direction of the Special Procedures Room. By the doorway David Levine and Sam MacIntyre, third- and second-year residents respectively, were bending over a relieved-looking patient, smiling and joking with her. Both doctors were in scrub suits with surgical masks pulled down around their necks. Jill stared. She could not take her eyes off that trio, and the two nurses who were also there, alternately smiling at the patient and gazing
with something less than clinical detachment at the dark-haired Levine.
Jill glared at him.
The only thing she knew about him was that he was from Denver, and possessed that air of rugged stamina one usually saw in shaving ads. Well, so what about his looks; it was the patient who really upset her. Mary Hollins, thirty-eight, had just undergone an amniocentesis, the fourth that Jill had seen performed. Clinically, it wasn’t a difficult procedure: amniotic fluid was surgically withdrawn from the abdomen of a pregnant woman, then examined for abnormal cells or chemicals that would indicate whether or not the fetus was in any trouble. For the doctor, the job was almost easy.
But what about the patients? Jill thought. I’ll bet they just love lying there, fully conscious, having their bellies skewered by a twenty cc syringe.
She peered again at Mary Hollins. It was hard to believe that this smiling patient, fervently clasping Levine’s hand, was the same woman who had been hysterical only half an hour ago.
“Amazing,” said Tricia, looking at Jill again. Fluorescents beamed off her glasses. “He’s really something, isn’t he?”
“Who?
“Levine. Think of some of the residents we could have gotten stuck with – ”
She broke off as Levine left the patient with MacIntyre and headed their way. Coming up behind him was another resident, George Mackey, a broad and jovial sort who two days ago had introduced the interns to fetal sonography.
“David!” Tricia called out. “I have a question about using Procaine as a pain killer. Do you think if the patient –
” Levine stopped, checking out the troubled expression on Jill Raney’s face. He half-turned in Donovan’s direction.
“Trish,” he said absently. “Why don’t you ask Mackey here? He’d be glad to help.”
Mackey and Levine traded looks. Mackey pulled a ballpoint from his breast pocket while glancing at Jill, who turned, stony-faced, and began walking away from the group.
Levine followed after her. “Why sure,” said Mackey heartily, turning back to Tricia. “Always glad to help.”

“Why the scowl?” David Levine asked.
“Who’s scowling?” Jill said, aware of the brittle tone in her voice.
“You are. Come on, what’s the matter?”
She had made the mistake of marching up the hall in the wrong direction, only to find herself blocked by the double swinging doors which led to the delivery area. There remained only one refuge: a walk-in linen closet. Levine had followed after her and now stood, leaning on the jamb, his tall, broad-shouldered frame blocking the exit.
She kept her back to him, pawing furiously through a pile of sheets pretending to look for something. She felt his eyes on her.
Abruptly he said, “I’m sorry I yelled.”
She hadn’t expected that. She stopped, stared at a stack of white towels, then slowly turned. He saw with surprise that her eyes were tearing, her cameo-perfect face blotchy. Quite a contrast to the way she had looked eleven days ago on the first day of internship. The new bunch had arrived on the floor looking like awkward schoolchildren, except for her. She looked confident and relaxed. Coming from the med school, she had already spent her fourth year in clerkship, caring clinically for patients and generally getting to know her way around. David had seen enough of her, darting in and out, to decide that she was a babe. Once, the week before internship began, he had shown the group around. Their glances had met, she smiled at him, and he was thrilled.
Now he watched her, disappointed. She wasn’t smiling anymore.
Her slender hands clenched. “Oh, you didn’t yell,” Jill said in a faintly supercilious voice. “All you did was make a complete ass of me in an ordinary voice. ‘No comments allowed from the munchkins,’” she mimicked angrily. “Everyone thought it was just hilarious – including the patient!”
He dared a smile. “They say it’s the best medicine.” His face colored as he stepped closer to her. Damn, would he have been this absurdly nice if he weren’t already attracted?


EMBRYO is available for purchase at:

Amazon Kindle for $2.99

 

Connect with J.A. Schneider:

Author Website: http://www.thecookandthecardiologist.com/thecookandthecardiologist.com/Embryo.html

Author Facebook Page: http://www.facebook.com/JASchneiderAuthor?skip_nax_wizard=true

Author Twitter Page: https://twitter.com/JoyceSchneider1

THE FRUGAL FIND OF THE DAY: EMBRYO, J.A. Schneider {$2.99}

Sponsored Post

J.A. Schneider‘s Frugal Find Under Nine:

Description of EMBRYO:

Terror and tragedy in the Obstetrics Dept of a major hospital. An intern determines to investigate.

 

Accolades:

“The writing is superb, the action tense, the characters fully developed, and the research for EMBRYO flawless.” Gail M Baugniet, Author of For Every Action

“When this book is described as a ‘wild ride,’ that is no understatement! If this were a movie, you would never take your eyes off the screen!” VStrawmier

“I picked Embryo up and did NOT expect such a brilliant story. The plot is fantastic and I was gripped from beginning to end. I read it in one sitting, unable to put it down. I even read while cooking, walking to get a drink–the book went everywhere I did. The pace is excellent, the writing stellar, and the tension is so high in places if I had any nails left I’d have bitten them off.” M Ellis


Amazon Reader Reviews:

EMBRYO currently has a Amazon reader review rating of 4.6 stars, with 45 reviews! Read the reviews here!

 

EMBRYO is available for purchase at:

Amazon Kindle for $2.99

Excerpt from EMBRYO:

I.

Maria Moran’s first inkling of trouble was the coppery taste in her mouth. It came suddenly, a rushing whoosh of something that made her gag, and when she reached up to wipe her mouth, her hand came away smeared with blood.
“What…?” She heard her own high voice. Stopping in her tracks, she stood motionless, staring down in panic at the bright crimson smudge on her hand. Around her, on the sidewalk of Third Avenue in New York City, Monday morning pedestrians jostled past her, but she was oblivious to them, oblivious even to the fact that a moment before she had been worried she’d be late for work.
A hurrying young man in shirtsleeves bumped into her. “Fer crying out – oops, sorry.” Maria looked to see him staring down at her great, melon belly. “Jeez lady, you shouldn’t stan’ there like that!”
Flustered, he rushed off and was swallowed by the crowd.
At Sixtieth Street the light was red. Out of habit, Maria stood a few feet away from the impatient crowd at the corner, overcautious as usual. Gums, she thought; try to relax. Probably every first-time mother feels like this. Stumbling over a curb, getting squeezed in an elevator – these were serious things in the Pregnant Lady Department. A faint, Madonna smile crept over her lips as she felt the baby kick. Saw the baby kick, she was certain – right through her white maternity dress with the lace eyelets that Ryan’s mom had insisted on buying for her. Ryan was so excited. They had fun in the evening, just thinking up names.
The light changed and she started to cross the avenue.
The first wave of dizziness caught her as she passed a jackhammer working near the curb. Swaying for a moment, she blamed her weakness on the July heat and the noise. A policeman flagging traffic around the work crew blew his whistle. Maria shook her head to clear it.
She made it to the yellow line before the second wave of dizziness came, and the avenue began turning slowly, sickeningly, on its axis. She grasped futilely at her shoulder bag. People pushed past her. As the dizziness subsided she noticed that the crowd in the crosswalk had thinned. She worried that the light was about to change.
“My God,” she said aloud. She took a step, then another, and was surprised that it was so hard because her feet had turned to granite blocks. A woman in a sleeveless dress shouldered past her and Maria stumbled.
“Hey! You okay?” A man coming up from behind stopped and grabbed her arm.
She blinked at him, trying to smile. “The heat,” she said. “I’ll be alright.”
“You better hurry,” he said, pointing. “Light’s gonna change.”
He rushed off, and in the next
moment Maria was sorry. In a swoop of nauseating terror she knew that her problem wasn’t the heat or bleeding gums or anything so absurdly simple. She was suddenly granite to the waist. The coppery taste came back, this time flooding her mouth too fast to swallow. She bent, gagging violently, put her hand over her mouth and felt a sticky wetness above her lip. Dazed, she looked at her hand again, then felt her nostrils streaming blood.
A nosebleed?
Horns blared, startling her upright again. The flashing red sign had turned to DON’T WALK. Through a blur she saw a line of glinting fenders begin to move toward her.
A whistle. A man’s shout. The intersection was suddenly clogged with traffic, and as she crumpled to the pavement she thought she saw cars swirling around her. From somewhere came a squeal of brakes, and then another.
“Help me!” Her words came out in a feeble cry. She began to crawl on her hands and knees.
Then the pain in her middle came. Not a little, crampy pain, the way contractions were supposed to start, but a queer, viselike tightening, as hard as a rock.
Too soon! Not time yet! Through a fog she saw men running toward her shouting; felt their hands on her, under her arms, lifting, but she could only focus on the pain. Getting tighter, unbearable. Weren’t contractions supposed to let up? This was not what her mother and sister had described to her. Jesus, help me! She was
vaguely aware of two men carrying her, a policeman and a man in a yellow hard hat, but her eyes came unfocused as the pain became more agonizing.
She felt herself lowered to hot pavement, saw feet crowding around and hands reaching down to her. The cop holding her was yelling for an ambulance. The final pain hit and she screamed. An explosion of knives went off in her belly. She felt the soft, warm mass well up below and pour rapidly down her thighs. She screamed again.
“They’re coming honey, they’re coming,” the cop said. A middle-aged woman was on her knees, stroking Maria’s arm, too rapidly, her eyes full of horror. Through the haze Maria tried to see the woman, and saw instead her own white dress, turning red.
“Help me,” she whimpered, but her voice sounded slow, far away. Her last conscious thought was hearing the wail of an approaching siren.
Then her head fell back, and blackness closed in.

2.

Twenty blocks away, Madison Hospital Medical Center rose in shimmering white blocks above waves of heat, inspiring fear and fascination in people who passed. Not everyone stopped, but many looked at the imposing buildings with nervous, sideways flicks of the eye that acknowledged the world fame of the place; and the gratitude that, today at least, they were on the outside and not the inside.
At that moment Dr. Jill Raney would have preferred being on the outside. Standing in the hall outside the obstetrical suite, she tried not to look too destroyed as she watched her fellow interns troop out of the Special Procedures Room. Ten minutes ago she had nearly blown it. Four years of brutal studies in med school, working hard enough to graduate with top honors, and now this.
She leaned on a gurney and wondered: would it be professional suicide to have a shouting match with one’s academic superior, right here on the ward floor?
“Thinks he’s God’s gift,” she muttered.
“Huh?” from beside her.
Chubby-cheeked Tricia Donovan, her friend since med school, was also in a blue scrub suit, stethoscope and surgical cap, peering up at Jill from behind wire-rimmed glasses. They were both July interns – beginners all
over again, raw recruits. About as much appreciated by the older doctors as an outbreak of hepatitis.
Jill turned her remarkable green eyes to her friend. “Nothing,” she said.
“Oh.” Tricia’s round face resumed its look of furious concentration and she went back to scribbling on her clipboard. Jill watched her ruefully. Nothing ever destroyed Tricia’s ability to concentrate.
It was nine o’clock; three babies had been delivered in the last hour alone, and today’s schedule of gynecological surgery was unusually crowded. Nurses rushed up and down the corridor, pushing medication tables and baskets full of bloody linen. Patients, drowsy from the effects of medication, lay parked on gurneys in various staging areas, some just coming out of surgery, others going in.
Watching the corridor bustle, Jill brooded about how everyone else seemed so briskly confident. She felt close to tears, and fought them down.
A clatter of gurney wheels caused her to straighten, and look in the direction of the Special Procedures Room. By the doorway David Levine and Sam MacIntyre, third- and second-year residents respectively, were bending over a relieved-looking patient, smiling and joking with her. Both doctors were in scrub suits with surgical masks pulled down around their necks. Jill stared. She could not take her eyes off that trio, and the two nurses who were also there, alternately smiling at the patient and gazing
with something less than clinical detachment at the dark-haired Levine.
Jill glared at him.
The only thing she knew about him was that he was from Denver, and possessed that air of rugged stamina one usually saw in shaving ads. Well, so what about his looks; it was the patient who really upset her. Mary Hollins, thirty-eight, had just undergone an amniocentesis, the fourth that Jill had seen performed. Clinically, it wasn’t a difficult procedure: amniotic fluid was surgically withdrawn from the abdomen of a pregnant woman, then examined for abnormal cells or chemicals that would indicate whether or not the fetus was in any trouble. For the doctor, the job was almost easy.
But what about the patients? Jill thought. I’ll bet they just love lying there, fully conscious, having their bellies skewered by a twenty cc syringe.
She peered again at Mary Hollins. It was hard to believe that this smiling patient, fervently clasping Levine’s hand, was the same woman who had been hysterical only half an hour ago.
“Amazing,” said Tricia, looking at Jill again. Fluorescents beamed off her glasses. “He’s really something, isn’t he?”
“Who?
“Levine. Think of some of the residents we could have gotten stuck with – ”
She broke off as Levine left the patient with MacIntyre and headed their way. Coming up behind him was another resident, George Mackey, a broad and jovial sort who two days ago had introduced the interns to fetal sonography.
“David!” Tricia called out. “I have a question about using Procaine as a pain killer. Do you think if the patient –
” Levine stopped, checking out the troubled expression on Jill Raney’s face. He half-turned in Donovan’s direction.
“Trish,” he said absently. “Why don’t you ask Mackey here? He’d be glad to help.”
Mackey and Levine traded looks. Mackey pulled a ballpoint from his breast pocket while glancing at Jill, who turned, stony-faced, and began walking away from the group.
Levine followed after her. “Why sure,” said Mackey heartily, turning back to Tricia. “Always glad to help.”

“Why the scowl?” David Levine asked.
“Who’s scowling?” Jill said, aware of the brittle tone in her voice.
“You are. Come on, what’s the matter?”
She had made the mistake of marching up the hall in the wrong direction, only to find herself blocked by the double swinging doors which led to the delivery area. There remained only one refuge: a walk-in linen closet. Levine had followed after her and now stood, leaning on the jamb, his tall, broad-shouldered frame blocking the exit.
She kept her back to him, pawing furiously through a pile of sheets pretending to look for something. She felt his eyes on her.
Abruptly he said, “I’m sorry I yelled.”
She hadn’t expected that. She stopped, stared at a stack of white towels, then slowly turned. He saw with surprise that her eyes were tearing, her cameo-perfect face blotchy. Quite a contrast to the way she had looked eleven days ago on the first day of internship. The new bunch had arrived on the floor looking like awkward schoolchildren, except for her. She looked confident and relaxed. Coming from the med school, she had already spent her fourth year in clerkship, caring clinically for patients and generally getting to know her way around. David had seen enough of her, darting in and out, to decide that she was a babe. Once, the week before internship began, he had shown the group around. Their glances had met, she smiled at him, and he was thrilled.
Now he watched her, disappointed. She wasn’t smiling anymore.
Her slender hands clenched. “Oh, you didn’t yell,” Jill said in a faintly supercilious voice. “All you did was make a complete ass of me in an ordinary voice. ‘No comments allowed from the munchkins,’” she mimicked angrily. “Everyone thought it was just hilarious – including the patient!”
He dared a smile. “They say it’s the best medicine.” His face colored as he stepped closer to her. Damn, would he have been this absurdly nice if he weren’t already attracted?


EMBRYO is available for purchase at:

Amazon Kindle for $2.99

 

Connect with J.A. Schneider:

Author Website: http://www.thecookandthecardiologist.com/thecookandthecardiologist.com/Embryo.html

Author Facebook Page: http://www.facebook.com/JASchneiderAuthor?skip_nax_wizard=true

Author Twitter Page: https://twitter.com/JoyceSchneider1

THE FRUGAL FIND OF THE DAY: Pandora’s Children: The Complete Nightmares Book 1, Bradley Convissar {$2.99 or Borrow FREE w/Prime!}

Sponsored Post

Bradley Convissar‘s Frugal Find Under Nine:

Description of Pandora’s Children: The Complete Nightmares Book 1:

Note: These stories contain adult language, adult situations and violence that may not be suitable for all ages.  You have been warned…

For the first time, the twenty-two stories found in Pandora’s Children books 1-5 and Dark Interludes have been combined into two easy-to-navigate volumes.

This collection contains almost two dozen dark stories, tales where men become monsters, monsters become men, and no one is ever truly safe. You will find ghosts, demons and monsters; evil men, madmen and broken men; a wood-chipper, Santa Claus and yes, a handful of dentists. Each book contains eleven stories, over 90,000 words (almost 300 pages) of disturbing, provocative tales which will keep you thinking long after you’re done reading.

This Volume 1 includes 11 stories.

Bonus excerpt- The first half of my 25,000 word novella, Dogs of War is also included in this volume.

 

Accolades:

“Evocatively written, the prose in this story feels more like poetry… The good doctor delivers!” -Amazon review of The Madame Penitent

“The writing style was tight and the stories short enough to read in one sitting.” – Amazon review

“I have found a new author to get excited about! I found these stories easy to read- like listening to ghost stories around the campfire.”- Amazon review

“The stories are well written and suspenseful and not just scary, but horrifying….sometimes our minds are scarier than any space spider or alien or what have you. Great book!” -Amazon review

 

Amazon Reader Reviews:

Pandora’s Children: The Complete Nightmares Book 1 currently has a Amazon reader review rating of 5 stars, with 6 reviews! Read the reviews here!

 

Pandora’s Children: The Complete Nightmares Book 1 is available for purchase at:

Amazon Kindle for $2.99 or Borrow FREE w/Prime!


Excerpt from Pandora’s Children: The Complete Nightmares Book 1:

From “Higher”, the final story in the collection:

“We live in a world where people don’t want to take responsibility for the consequences of their decisions. It’s hard to take the blame when things go bad, much easier to pass the buck. But ironically, as a parent, as a father, it’s much easier to blame yourself than your child when your child screws up. It’s easier to say that your child failed because you didn’t do enough, because you weren’t supportive enough, because you weren’t there enough. Much harder to admit that your child is a failure because that’s what he is. When things started to go wrong with you, I blamed myself. I tried to convince myself that you turned out like you did because I failed you. But then I look at your sister, happily married with two children and successful as a lawyer, and I know that I did the best I could, and my best was damn good. No, it wasn’t me that failed you, it was you that failed you.”

“When I first saw you tonight, saw what you had become, I tried to convince myself that what I was looking at was not my son. I tried to convince myself that you had become a complete and utter stranger to me. That my Harrison was dead. I thought that if I could convince myself, it would make tonight easier. But it’s not supposed to be easy, is it? For either of us.” He looked over at Harrison’s profile, trying to read something in his expression. He thought he saw something approaching a sad smile behind the tape, but he wasn’t sure. It could have been his imagination. Or wishful thinking. He quickly turned back to the photos, the current one featuring a five year old Harrison boldly petting a sheep at the zoo. “But I was fooling myself, Harrison. As much as I wanted to distance myself from you, deny you, I couldn’t. Because there’s something of this,” he pointed at the screen, “still in you. You wil l always be my son. And that’s why I’m doing this. And that’s why it’s so damn hard.”

A photo of Harrison, six years old, appeared on the screen, his face screwed up in pure glee as his mother blew on his naked belly.

“You may be sitting there and wondering at this tableau, at the purpose, wondering if this is a final attempt by me to save you. It isn’t. I put this together not as a prelude to a new beginning, but as the final act of a play sadly coming to its conclusion. I did it for two reasons, Harrison: first, for myself. This…” a casual finger directed at the screen, “this is how I want to remember you. This is what I want to remember when I close my eyes at night. I don’t want my last memories of you to be of a corpse lying in a hospital or in a morgue. I refuse to be woken one night by the police asking me to come downtown to ID your quickly cooling body. And don’t deny that that’s how this would ultimately end, Harrison. I see it every week, young adults in jail one day for drug possession or assault or burglary, dead on the floor of their apartment or in the garage at their parent’s house or in an alley or on a hospit al gurney the next. You know damn well that if I let this continue, there’s no coming back for you, and the last time I see you you’ll be dead. Is this selfish? Damn right it is. Damn right. But I’m your parent and I’m entitled. After everything your mother and I gave you, after everything we suffered for you, I deserve to remember your life for what it was, not what it is. I deserve to remember this-” Another wave at the slowly flashing photos, “-and not this.” He reached over and gently patted Harrison’s trapped left hand with his own, noting the dryness of the skin and the prominence of the underlying bone. “I gave you life, and I refuse to allow you to dictate how I remember you.”

Gerald finally stood, his legs heavy and stiff beneath him but his soul pregnant with purpose. He grasped the small package which rested on the couch to his left then walked around the chair and stood behind his son. He rested his hands on Harrison’s shoulders, the muscle beneath sweatshirt and skin so atrophied he felt bone. But he ignored the uncomfortable sensation and spoke. He fought back the tears that he knew were imminent, scraping every last vestige of resolve from his tortured soul to keep his voice strong but soft.

“But this, Harrison,” Gerald said, focusing on the photos on the screen, “this is also for you. Because when you die, I don’t want your spirit stained with the horrible things you have done. With the indifference and misery which have defined your life the past year and a half. I don’t want your final memories to be of searching for the perfect vein. When you reach your moment of judgment, I want Him to know that you were loved. I want Him to see the boy I raised, the boy who wanted nothing more than to experience everything life had to offer. I want your soul to be stamped with memories of joy, memories of innocence, memories of a world filled with wonder. When you reach your judgment, I want you to shine like a star so that maybe your sins will be forgiven.”

 

Pandora’s Children: The Complete Nightmares Book 1 is available for purchase at:

Amazon Kindle for $2.99 or Borrow FREE w/Prime!

 

Connect with Bradley Convissar:

Author Website: www.darkestdayspublishing.com

Author Facebook Page: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Bradley-Convissar-Author/178862205471284

Author Twitter Page: @bconvisdmd

KINDLE DAILY DEAL: Blue is for Nightmares by Laurie Faria Stolarz is Just $0.99 Today Only!

“I Know Your Secret . . .”

Boarding school junior Stacey Brown has nightmares too real to ignore.  Her nightmares come true. This time they’re about Drea, her best friend who’s become the target of one seriously psycho stalker. To  try and protect her, Stacey’s working with what she knows-candles, cards, incantations, and spells…

 

In this Deluxe Spellbook Edition you’ll find:

Spells created by You and other keepers of secrets-poems, spells and meditations contributed by fans of this popular series. Extras also include an interview with the author.

What readers are saying:

5-Stars – Edge of your seat thriller!

The average Amazon Reader Review is currently 4.5 stars {93 reviews}.

Click here to read more about and purchase Blue is for Nightmares for $0.99* from Amazon

*Price goes back up to $7.96 tomorrow!

 

KINDLE DAILY DEAL: A Good and Useful Hurt by Aric Davis is Just $0.99 Today Only!

Mike is a tattoo artist running his own shop, and Deb is the piercing artist he hires to round out the motley crew at his studio of four. The last thing either expects is romance, but that’s exactly what happens when they follow their off-kilter careers and love lives into complete disaster.

When Mike follows a growing trend and tattoos the ashes of deceased loved ones into several customers’ tattoos, he has no idea that it will one day provide the solution—and solace—he will sorely need. And when the life of a serial killer tragically collides with the lives of those in the tattoo shop, Mike and Deb will stop at nothing in their quest for revenge, even if it means stepping outside the known boundaries of life and death.

Ink that is full of crematory ashes, a sociopathic killer, and pain in its most raw form combine for one of the most imaginative, haunting thrillers in recent memory. Full of wit and heart, A Good and Useful Hurt delivers the goods with the pain of a needle in skin.

What readers are saying:

“Davis writes with passion and artistry – wielding his pen as skillfully as his protagonist wields his tattooist’s needles. The layer of mystical and dream-state connections that emerges after the ashes have been injected take the narrative to a fascinating and metaphysical level.” Al from White Rhino Report

The average Amazon Reader Review rating is currently 4 Stars {33 Reviews}.

Click here to read more about and purchase A Good and Useful Hurt for $0.99* from Amazon

*Price goes back up to $7.99 tomorrow!

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...