Reena Jacobs's Blog, page 14

Chasing Shadows – Making Amends (6)

Welcome to installment #6 of the Chasing Shadows – Making Amends series. For more information or to read the previous scene, head to this page.

Chapter 3
Scene 1

Intent on making it to her home before any of the clan stopped her, Kecil hurried through the village. Too many times she’d been subjected to the ridicule, the taunting… the stares. Automatically, she palmed her neck, covering the birthmark which spanned from her right ear to collarbone. She forced her hand away from the imperfection and repositioned the basket of fruit banging against her hip, quickening her steps.

Teman, her binturong companion, took up a wobbly gallop but slowly fell behind, his short legs not built for speed.

Her bamboo hut appeared in the distance. Weather beaten and in constant need of repair, it took all her effort to keep the hovel standing some days. Still, tension faded from her body at the sight of the sanctuary. Only two huts to go. Kecil glanced back and mentally urged the binturong to waddle faster. “Hurry.”

Soon they both could relax. She faced forward and plowed into Gemuk.

“Clumsy girl,” he said as he shoved her face.

Kecil fell and just missed Teman who hobbled out of the way with a hiss. Scrambling to her knees, she pulled her only friend into her arms and petted the raised hair at the scuff of his neck. “Shhh.”

Gemuk inhaled deeply. “I don’t know why your father let’s you play with the food.”

Kecil held Teman all the more tighter, wishing she could mask the sweet smell of binturong strong in the air. Keeping her eyes to the ground lest Gemuk see her anger and retaliate, she pulled the upturned basket closer.

Gemuk sucked air between his teeth, and the repulsive sound grated on her ears.

“A runt like you never should have survived.” He’d driven that barb so often, it’d begun to pierce her heart as true.

Kecil remained silent and reached for a dirty mango with a trembling hand.

“Hey, you hear me?” He planted his foot against her shoulder and kicked her backward.

She landed hard and scraped her butt on impact. Unable to stop her gums from tingling as her fangs lengthened, she glared at him.

“Oh.” Gemuk smirked. “She has a bit of spice left in her after all.”

Kecil rose to her full height—the smallest of her clan—and craned her neck to meet his sallow eyes. “Let me pass.”

He loomed, towering over her. Overfed with the kills of others, he was the largest wehr-tiger she’d ever encountered. Trepidation filled her as she faced him—a fish against the crocodile.

Teman snarled and nipped at Gemuk’s ankle, but a solid kick sent her poor friend flying with a ragged yelp. Teman recovered and bared his teeth as he shuffled back, moving exceedingly fast for a binturong. Brave though he was, a thirty pound animal was no match for a wehr-tiger.

Kecil fell to her knees and wrapped her arms around her friend’s neck, struggling to rein him in. Her heartbeat quickened as Gemuk drew closer. More afraid of the consequences of showing fear than anything he could do to her, she boldly met the dark look he narrowed on her.

“…on Kecil.” The sound of her father’s voice drifted near.

Gemuk crouched to her level, his voice low. “You’ve eluded me. But there will come a time when I’ll find you alone… out of the safety of the clan… beyond the eyes and ears of your father… and then… neither you nor that tasty morsel will be safe.”

He looked over his shoulder then strode away, every step landing with confidence. His skin took on an orange hue before fur bursted forth and filled in the lighter color with black and white stripes. As large and magnificent in his tiger form as he was in human, few dared cross him, and Kecil believed every word he said: one day he would find her alone.

Not until after Gemuk turned a corner and the curve of his tail disappeared from sight, did Kecil release her friend. She scrambled to retrieve the fallen fruit and grabbed the last one just as her father came into view.

“Looks like you’ve been busy, Cili Padi.” Her father used his pet name for her—chili peppers so small they were like grains of rice. He squatted as Teman lumbered forward and clambered into his arms.

“You dropped one.” Her father reached for a stray plantain before rising with Teman on his shoulder, the binturong’s favorite perch. Already her friend had his long prehensile tail wrapped around her father’s waist like an extra arm.

“You mind?” Her father held up the plantain and cocked his head toward Teman.

“Of course not, Bapa.” Kecil picked up her basket and juggled it on her hip as her father pealed the top half of the starchy fruit and handed it to Teman.

Her insatiable friend wasted no time grabbing the treat between two paws and chomping the tip. His narrow jaws smacked sloppily, smashing the plantain to a pulp.

“That’s quite a load you’ve got there.” Her father reached for the basket, but she pulled back.

“I’ve got it, Bapa. I’ve brought it this far.”

He chuckled. “That you did. Forever independent. Sometimes you remind me of my sister. She was like you before…” His cheer faded, leaving his frozen smile in a grimace.

…before she lost cub after cub, like my mother. Pregnancies and birth were often hard on the clanswomen… and for the babies. Kecil had barely survived childhood herself—the runt of the litter, but remarkably the only survivor of three. She touched his arm. “I wish I could meet her. Everything about her sounds wonderful.”

He turned stark eyes toward her before he blinked, and his smile took on joy again. “Yes, she is. You’d like her. She birthed a litter shortly before I left. The cubs wouldn’t be much older than you.”

If they lived, which was unlikely. A sickly litter, he’d lamented often while in the midst of despair, but Kecil kept quiet. Today was a good day for her father, and she wanted to enjoy his happiness as long as possible.

She took the last few steps to the hut she’d occupied all her life. Small but efficient, the hut was little more than a shelter meant to protect a wehr-tigress and her cubs from the elements. Not that Kecil would ever have her own litter. Underdeveloped, her grandmother had said after the last season passed without Kecil going into heat.

Kecil set the basket down, pulled out a young coconut, and handed it to her father.

“Thank you.” He took it with a smile, and his eyes creased in the corners, reminding Kecil how he’d aged since her mother’s death. “I stopped by to see how you were doing.”

“Fine.” So used to shielding her father from unpleasantness, the lie slipped off her tongue with ease. She squashed the bitterness which threatened to rise at their reversal of roles.

Once tall and proud, her father now stooped as if her mother’s death sucked a bit of life out of him every day. Little more than an empty shell, he boded the time until the next life took him to her again.

His eyes wandered to the inside of the dwelling, stopping on the baskets in a corner.

The ones made by her mother were so old the colors had faded nearly to white, creating a bold contrast next to the newer taupe ones.

Her father’s brows peaked in the center, and his smile faded. His pale green eyes glistened before he closed them. Not once had he stepped foot into the hut since he’d learned of his mate’s death—never forgiving himself for failing to protect his territory, always taking the blame.

The sullenness was broken as Teman poked his pink tongue into her father’s ear.

“Bah” Her father cringed as he pressed the binturong’s head away, not quite avoiding a second flick to the cheek.

Kecil laughed. “He’s too big to carry, Bapa.”

“Perhaps you’re right.” Her father eased his burden to the ground.

Without a backward glance, Teman padded into the hut, rested his front paws on the basket of fruit, and pilfered through the assortment but jerked away when Kecil covered his findings with a wicker lid.

“I’ve got something better for you.” She picked a few strangler figs drying on the line she’d strung along a wall and placed them on the floor mat. Not fond of the seedy fruit, she gathered them solely for her friend’s benefit.

“That’s why he never learned how to fend for himself,” her father said.

“Bapa.” Kecil withheld the sigh building in her chest. She’d heard it all before… traveled down the path too many times.

“Nothing to do about it now.” Her father shook his head. “You couldn’t have known how to train a young cub. Not when—”

“Please, Bapa.” She held out her hand. “Let me open your coconut.”

“Huh?” He lifted the green fruit, staring as if it were a foreign object before refocusing on Kecil, his eyes crinkling at the corner as he considered her. “Still the size of a cub.”

He thrust the coconut at her. “No. You keep it. It’s too nutritious to waste.”

Kecil’s neck heated; her ears burned. Even her father saw her as inferior with her small size. She turned away, hiding her embarrassment as she weighed the lid of the basket down with the fruit. By the time she looked up again, all she saw of her father was his back as he walked away, his faded blonde hair which matched her own fluttering in the wind.

She sat heavily on the front step. Her petite size made her undesirable, and rightly so. What male wanted a weak female, who was too small to bare young safely? If she could even bare young. Nearly twenty summers and she’d never gone into heat.

Already the clan had given up hope on her and sent Kasut and Tebal to seek potential females to strengthen the clan… fertile females. If their mission was unsuccessful, it could mean the disbandment of the shrinking group. After all, only Kasut was mated.

The time had long passed for the other three adult males—Gemuk, Tebal, and her father—to seek mates of their own. Kecil knew little about the world outside of her clan, but her understanding was unmated males were transient. Having the three linger for years was unprecedented.

As much as she loved her father, she longed for him to light with happiness… like when her mother lived. If it meant he needed to journey away and find a new mate, so be it.

There was no doubt in Kecil’s mind. Her father stayed to protect his family where he’d failed before. Despite his past failures, he shouldn’t have to sacrifice his future for her—not for one so insignificant and unworthy.

Guest Post: Tim Miller

When I read the blurb for The Hand of God by Tim Miller, Dexter came to mind. Then I read Mr. Miller’s guest post (tee hee… I got to read it before the post went live), and my thoughts filled with Pulp Fiction. So before Mr. Miller shares a bit with us, I’m going to share a little kinetic typography video from Pulp Fiction.

Charlie Sims is not your typical preacher. God has called him to rid the world of sinners. One corpse at a time, he carries out his brutally selfless work until a more powerful preacher appears who will change his life forever. A battle ensues for the fate of mankind. 

Charlie’s devout beliefs are shaken as he finds himself hurtled into a battle for the end of the world where nothing is what it seems. A violent tale filled with death and chaos, the lines between good and evil are blurred and eventually demolished.

Available at Barnes & Nobles || The Book Depository || Amazon

Thank you to Reena for having me as a guest today.  Your hospitality is very much appreciated.  Today I’m here to discuss my recent book, The Hand of God.  Many folks confuse this for a “Christian” novel, but it is far from it. There are many religious and Christian themes however.  So I’d like to talk about some of those things. For those who haven’t read it, The Hand of God starts out with Pastor Charlie, a mild mannered preacher, who also happens to be a serial killer. He’s a serial killer because he thinks he was sent by God to do his work by cleaning up sinners. Throughout the book there are many twists and turns. The story is written from Charlie’s point of view, so we can get a good look inside his head.

As the story unfolds, Charlie learns many things about his own beliefs and religion itself. Having studied religion and Christian ministry myself, I find the subject fascinating. What Charlie learns in the book is what many of us learn every day. How many of us have ever been determined to get a new job, or attend a new school? What happens when we reach that goal? Quite often, things turn out much differently than we expected. Maybe its harder work than we thought, or maybe the institution itself isn’t what it was cracked up to be.

I know when I joined the Marine Corps how excited I was. I had read all about it was all about brotherhood, teamwork and hard work. Once I’d been in for a year or so I saw how it really was. Things were more about politics, who you know and physical appearances. This was disappointing to me, but a hard lesson.

So now we have Pastor Charlie and his religion. There is no one thing I can think of where people believe they are more sure of anything, than in any religion. I worked in ministry for a while so I saw this first hand. Every person, even among Christians had varying levels of beliefs, and every single one of them thought they were absolutely 100% right and there was no room for debate. I knew one preacher who was so determined, that to disagree with him was not just a friendly disagreement, but it was to spit in the face of God himself.

So my question is, the Marine Corps didn’t live up to my expectations, I know many for whom marriage did not meet their expectations. I’ve even heard pro football players talk about how the NFL was nothing like what they had expected. Knowing these things, is it not possible that whatever religious beliefs we might hold, that things might not always be what you thought? I mean, you read the Left Behind books, and they lay out their interpretation of Bible prophecy step by step. If you talk to the authors, they are 100% sure this is how things will unfold. How are they so sure and what if they are wrong? What if we’re all wrong? I know we can’t all be right. I know if there is a God, he doesn’t always do what we expect. Case in point:

So as we can see, we may get our prayers answered, or what we wanted, but not in the way we expected. As the plot twists unfold in the Hand of God, Charlie discovers this on several levels. Although in realizing his beliefs and religion isn’t what he thought it was, he finds a new strength within himself. A strength he never knew he possessed and that may have no limits. This can be true of each of us. Even though we may have no religious beliefs, or maybe they don’t live up to our expectations. That doesn’t make us any less powerful. Just like Charlie, we can all learn to tap into that part of ourselves, to release our strength.

About the Author

Tim Miller has studied various religions, as well as psychology and has worked in several fields involving the study of human behavior. After serving four years in the U.S. Marines, Tim spent six years working as a corrections officer. Tim also worked as a technician in a psychiatric center. The Hand of God is Tim’s first novel in almost ten years. He currently lives in San Antonio, Texas with his fiance and their children.

Tim became a fan of horror as a teenager. At the age of fourteen he would often read Stephen King books while listening to Iron Maiden on his head phones. He would write short stories to entertain himself and his friends. In 2001, Tim Published his first book, Without a Trace, and then Out of Nowhere a year later. These were mystery/suspense thrillers, but frightening enough in their own right.

After a ten year break and writing two inspirational books, Tim is back at it writing horror with The Hand of God. It is the first book in the series about Pastor Charlie, the preacher/serial killer. Tim is currently working on the second book in the Pastor Charlie series.

Find Tim Miller Online

Website

Twitter

Deadly Eyes Book Tour

Ever get the eerie sensation someone’s watching you? I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but some freakish feelings are very well founded. O.o Today Michael Meyer is giving a peek inside his head as he shares his latest release, Deadly Eyes.

Reena Jacobs: Congratulations on your latest release. Please tell us a little about Deadly Eyes.

Michael Meyer: DEADLY EYES is a haunting Caribbean mystery. Living the good life on the idyllic Caribbean island of St. Croix, James Cuffy “Cuff” and his girlfriend Rosie are suddenly being stalked by an unknown person with a deadly pair of eyes that sees everything and misses nothing, and their once-relaxing stay on the beautiful island takes a treacherous turn, their world turned upside down, becoming a nightmare filled with murder, mystery, and danger.

RJ: Sounds like something to add to the book of “Worst Vacations Eva!” How much of you/your life do you put into your stories?

MM: As a writer, bits and pieces of myself and of people I have known, experiences I have had and places I have lived have found a home in my own writing. I have always loved a good mystery, and I was like a reader as DEADLY EYES came together for me. Having lived for four years on the small island of St. Croix, the setting for my book is authentic, but the characters are all from my own imagination.

RJ: I love when authors add a bit of realism to stories. Makes it seem all the more real. Which of your characters do you relate to most?

MM: I really like both Cuff and Rosie. They are romantically linked, and yet they are both strong individuals, who are perfectly matched to stand up to one another when need be. I miss working with them. I loved creating the repartee between these two strong-willed lovers, neither willing to back down or take a slight from the other without verbal repercussions. As a matter of fact, I probably am in love with Rosie. She is sexy, feisty, and quite independent, the perfect match for Cuff.

RJ: I see you were a writing professor for 40 years. That’s a long history of experience in itself. When did you first decide you wanted to be a writer?

MM: I have written my whole life. My study at home is filled with manuscripts of one sort or another. When I retired from my 40-year career as an English professor, I now had the time to work on the unfinished manuscripts I had started years before. I have now published fours novels on Amazon Kindle, and my fifth book is nearing completion. In retirement I have suddenly found the time I need to devote to one of my lifelong passions: writing. And I also am privileged to have the time to see things through to completion. The unfinished works in my study are quickly vanishing, to my delight.

RJ: Very cool to be in a place in life you can concentrate on the things you love. What’s the hardest part of the writing process?

MM: The most difficult part for me is placing the following words on my manuscript: The End. I get very involved with my characters as I write. I laugh and cry with them, and I agonize over their actions and their circumstances. They are like my own children. I am sad to see them grow up and then go off to live their lives on their own. Saying goodbye is tough, even though I know that they have found a very good home on Amazon Kindle.

RJ: What’s the easiest part of the writing process?

MM: When I am in the groove, which is the vast majority of the time when I am sitting at my keyboard, working on a manuscript, the characters call out to me, leading me onward, and it is exciting to me, because I never quite know where they will lead me. I have fun writing. It is pleasurable for me. The very second, though, that something seems to tough to handle at the moment, I stop. I will then go off and live my everyday life, waiting until the trigger I need pops into my head. That’s when I run back upstairs to my study and start working once again.

RJ: I know how that goes. A shower typically does the trick for me. Do you have any advice for other writers?

MM: Write, write, and write, but have fun doing it. Life is too short to do otherwise. If it is not a pleasurable activity, then why do it?

RJ: Anything special you’d like to say to readers?

If you like DEADLY EYES, then see if you would also like his siblings, who all live with him on my Amazon author’s site. I love to write, but I am not good at all at tooting my own horn, so, if you enjoy my work, would you please toot my horn for me? Telling others verbally or by posting reviews will be graciously accepted and gratefully appreciated by this Indie author.

RJ: What are you working on now?

I am nearly finished with a collection of humorous vignettes. To date, I have published two novels of suspense and two humorous novels. I hope to write until I die, so I plan on having many more works published in the future, some mysteries and some humorous fiction.

 

 

Deadly Eyes by Michael Meyer is available at: Amazon

About the Author

I have resided in and have visited many places in the world, all of which have contributed in some way to my own published writing. I have literally traveled throughout the world, on numerous occasions. I have lived in Finland, Germany, Thailand, Saudi Arabia, and the U.S. Virgin Islands, on the island of St. Croix, where DEADLY EYES is set. I gained the wanderlust to see the world, to experience other cultures, at an early age, and this desire has never left me. If anything, it has only gained in intensity as I have aged. I try to travel internationally at least once a year. In the interim, I spend lots of time traveling around both my home state of California and other nearby states.

I spent my early years in the small town of Lone Pine, California, the home of almost every western movie, in addition to a wide variety of other genres, made in the 30’s, 40’s, 50’s, and 60’s. In fact, Hollywood still films parts of big-time movies there today. My dad, the town’s lifeguard at the time, personally knew John Wayne, Lloyd Bridges, and Lee Marvin, all of whom came to the town’s pool, the Memorial Plunge, at times to cool off after a hectic day of working in the sun. I was even an extra in a movie filmed there in 1957, MONOLITH MONSTERS, a B-cult favorite even today. I was ten years old at the time. Even though I resided in a small town hours from the big city, I was exposed to the excitement of action and heroes at a formative age, and, thus, my interest in writing novels of suspense such as DEADLY EYES was born.

As a recent retiree from a forty-year career as a professor of writing, I now live in Southern California wine country with my wife, Kitty, and our two other cats.

Find the Author Online

Amazon author’s site:  http://www.amazon.com/Michael-Meyer/e/B005E7M8CW/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1?tag=zomoria-20

Goodreads:  http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/674626.Mike_Meyer

Facebook writers’s site: https://www.facebook.com/MichaelMeyersWritingLife/app_191387770912394

Visit the Other Stops!

May 21st — H. A. Caine

May 22nd — The Book Hoard

May 23rd — Seraphine Muse

May 24th — Musings of a Writing Reader

May 25th — Just Another Rabid Reader

May 26th — These Words Tell A Story

May 27th — It’s All About Me

May 28th — Writing with Kristine Cayne 

May 29th — Daily Mommy Survival

May 30th — J. A. Beard’s Unnecessary Musings

May 31st — Ramblings of Amateur Writer

The Becoming Blog Tour + Giveaway

Greetings, my beloveds! I don’t know about you folks, but there’s something about women with rifles that makes me think, “Yeowch! Now that’s hot!” Kind of reminds me a bit of Tomb Raider. What says you?

Today we have a special treat–an Excerpt from The Becoming by Jessica Meigs PLUS a giveaway! But first, how about a little introduction for this new release?

The Michaluk Virus is loose.

In the heart of Atlanta, Georgia, the Michaluk Virus has escaped the CDC, and its effects are widespread and devastating. Most of the population of the southeastern United States has become homicidal cannibals. As society rapidly crumbles under the hordes of infected, three people—Ethan Bennett, a Memphis police officer; Cade Alton, his best friend and former IDF sharpshooter; and Brandt Evans, a lieutenant in the US Marines—band together against the oncoming crush of death and terror sweeping across the world.

As Cade, Brandt, and Ethan hole up in a safe house in Tupelo, others begin to join them in their bid for survival. When the infected attack and they’re forced to flee, one departs to Memphis in search of answers while the others escape south to Biloxi, where they encounter more danger than they bargained for. And in Memphis, the answers that one man finds are the last answers he wanted, answers that herald a horrific possibility that there may be more to this virus than first suspected.

Available at Barnes & Nobles || The Book Depository || Smashwords || Amazon

Excerpt from The Becoming

Brandt Evans’s scuffed black combat boots struck the wet pavement heavily as he ran down the rain-dampened street. His heart hammered wildly against his ribs, as if it were trying to beat free from his chest. His breathing was loud and harsh. His hands sweated and shook uncontrollably. His whole body was on edge.

He had been running for over half an hour.

Brandt ducked into an alley without slowing his pace. He dropped down beside a smelly, overflowing green dumpster to hide. Leaning back against the cool brick wall, he felt the solidness of it, the rough stones scraping against his back through his thin t-shirt. He closed his eyes and struggled to breathe. His lungs burned. His eyes hurt.

He was a rabbit trying to outrun a fox. Hunted. Desperate.

He just needed a moment to rest. Just one moment. He could spare a moment, couldn’t he?

Brandt leaned forward and peered at the alleyway’s opening. He took in a deep breath of the sharp, cold January air and rubbed his hands over each of his arms in turn to ward off the chill. He’d lost his jacket at some point during the chase, and he desperately wished he still had it as he hunched over and shivered. He held his breath until his chest ached, and then he slowly released it. It clouded the air before his face.

Brandt thought he might have lost them, but he didn’t want to take any chances. There was no way to know how many had followed him, how many had caught his scent. He had to assume that it wasn’t just one or two. He had to assume that he was being pursued. Always pursued. If he let his guard down…

Brandt wiped his sweating palms down the thighs of his camouflage pants and leaned back against the wall again. He knew what would happen if he were caught. He’d seen many of his fellow soldiers succumb to the plague. He knew that if he were caught, it would all end in blood and pain and death. It was not the end he had envisioned for himself when he’d taken this mission, and he refused to let it turn out that way.

The faces of the other soldiers flashed through Brandt’s mind, and guilt settled heavily over him. Even he had known the exact moment when the quarantine failed, when the mission fell apart. But rather than acknowledge the abject failure of the mission and order a retreat, those in command had continued to bark orders at those under their charges to fight and to die.

The guilt of surviving would plague Brandt for the rest of his life.

Brandt had to get out of the city, as soon as he possibly could, if he expected to stay alive. He had to run. He had to get ahead of the infection, flee, and find a safe place to hide. He didn’t care that he’d abandoned his post. His post didn’t exist anymore, as far as he was concerned. Half of the military didn’t. They’d all died or turned within the past several hours. All except for him.

A faint noise echoed from the alleyway’s entrance. Brandt’s heart jumped into his throat and choked him. Brandt leaned to peer around the edge of the dumpster again, and his hand wandered to the military-issue Beretta M9 handgun at his hip. He drew it and ejected the magazine to look inside. It was empty, as expected. He pulled back the slide. He already knew what he would find: a single bullet, the one he’d carefully counted ammunition to save. Just in case.

But Brandt was nothing if not a survivor. Even with the lone bullet in his possession, he’d never have the will to use it on himself. He snapped the magazine back into the gun as quietly as he could. The sound was too loud to his ears, and he worried that the simple action would draw unwanted attention to him.

As if on cue, a shuffling noise came from the other side of the dumpster. A quiet snarl followed it, along with an odd snuffling sound. Brandt closed his eyes and instinctively pressed his back more firmly against the brick wall. He became the rabbit again, shrinking back among the loose trash that skittered about in the stiff, cold wind; he hoped against hope that he wouldn’t be sniffed out. Another jolt of adrenaline pumped into Brandt’s veins as an ominous chill ran down his spine and raised the hair on the back of his neck. He could have sunk into the bricks and hidden inside them.

Brandt’s instincts whispered that there was not going to be an escape from this one. Brandt wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take. The idea of being chased, of being caught, was slowly driving him insane. He had to do something, anything to alleviate the awful sensation.

Brandt took a deep, steadying breath and stood abruptly. His head swam at the sudden movement; his vision dimmed, and the alleyway spun around him. His heart lurched in his chest. Brandt shook his head and caught his hand against the dumpster to steady himself as he lifted the gun. The weapon felt incredibly heavy, and the barrel trembled. He swallowed and curled his finger to depress the trigger.

Time slowed to a crawl.

The last bullet left the gun with a loud bang. The bullet whipped past the blood-covered man who ran down the alleyway toward Brandt. It embedded into the wall with a splatter of brick. Shards of red stone sprayed the man and cut into his cheek. He seemed unaffected as he continued his pursuit of Brandt.

Brandt stumbled back. The emptied Beretta fell from his limp hand to the pavement. Brandt looked left and right frantically. Thoughts blazed through his mind in a flurry, faster than he could catch them. His shot had missed? How had it missed when the target was so close? He was an expert marksman, for Christ’s sake! He wasn’t supposed to miss!

Brandt’s dark eyes alternately darted from the man to the alley walls on either side of him. Should he try to run past the man? Should he fight and kill him? Either way, he was likely dead.

Brandt swore under his breath and mentally inventoried the weapons left on his person. There hadn’t been much to begin with: just the sidearm that now lay expended on the pavement and a rifle Brandt had abandoned once he’d run out of ammunition for it. The extra weight of the spent weapon had been a hindrance to his flight. He took a couple of steps back and remembered the one weapon he had left.

Brandt knelt and pulled his KA-BAR knife free from the sheath strapped to the outside of his right boot. It wasn’t much, and he wasn’t sure how much damage the seven-inch blade could actually cause, but it was all he had left. He stood just in time. The man launched himself at Brandt, hands extended, hatred in his red-rimmed, bloodshot eyes.

Instinct guided Brandt as he lifted the knife sharply upwards and stood from his kneeling position. In one smooth move that should have been deadly, Brandt slammed the knife’s blade into the fleshy underside of the man’s lower jaw.

To Brandt’s dismay, the man’s gnarled hands closed in tight fists on Brandt’s shirt. The man shook his head violently to free the knife from his jaw. Trapped, Brandt struggled to pull himself from the man’s grip, but the man was stronger than he looked.

So Brandt did the only thing he could. He wrenched the knife roughly from the man’s jaw and slammed it with all the strength left in his limbs directly into the man’s left temple.

Shock invaded the man’s features as the blade struck home. His forward momentum carried him a few more steps after Brandt struck the fatal blow. He leaned heavily against Brandt and then fell to the pavement, hard.

Brandt backed away from the body, shuddering as nausea welled up in his throat. He shook the sensation off and took his first real look at the man who had attacked him. He wasn’t anyone Brandt recognized, which was the best news Brandt would get all day. This man was too old to have been a current member of the military. He was around seventy years old, thin and bony and wrinkled with age, hair white and sparse on his head. His body was clad in dirtied sweatpants and a bloodstained white bathrobe, his feet bare and torn from running without shoes on the cold, unforgiving streets and sidewalks of Atlanta. The elderly man was definitely a civilian, possibly from one of the local nursing homes. Judging by the crusted blood under his lengthening, yellowed fingernails, the man had been ill for at least four days.

Brandt leaned down and grasped the hilt of the knife, pulling it free from the man’s temple. It slid away from the bone and flesh with an indescribable sound that made Brandt nearly drop the weapon as he shuddered in disgust. He took a moment to wipe the blood from the blade onto the edge of the dead man’s bathrobe. He had no desire to continue his examination of the dead body before him. Brandt looked instead to the Beretta lying on the wet pavement. The weapon was empty; it wouldn’t do him any further good. The chances that he would find much suitable ammunition for it in a city under siege were slim, and searching for it wasn’t worth his time. The general populace had days before raided the gun shops and sports stores in the city for anything usable that had been left behind by the military, and all of the ammunition stores were most likely bare. Regardless, he scooped the gun up and jammed it into the holster on his belt.

Brandt looked around the darkening alley. Night had begun to fall, the dusk settling over the alley and making it difficult to see. He tried to center his mind and figure out where to go, what to do. He couldn’t stay on the streets in the dark; it increased his chances of being killed tenfold. The city still crumbled around him, so he needed to move fast. His options were severely limited.

Brandt turned in a slow circle and spotted a red ladder hanging at the end of the alley, almost invisible in the dark. A fire escape, he realized. It at least offered an alternative to returning to the street. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure nothing else was coming in his direction. Then he returned the knife to its sheath on his boot and jumped up. He caught the bottom rung of the ladder and hauled himself onto it, his biceps bulging as he dragged himself up. He began to climb as quickly as he dared.

The metal rungs were slick with rain and ice, and they bit into Brandt’s palms and fingers as he trekked up the ladder. His boots slipped on the icy rungs more than once and sent his heart faltering in his chest. It was only through his own reflexes that he didn’t fall from the ladder and to the pavement below. The thought of breaking bones and leaving himself helpless was enough to keep him on his guard. There would be no salvation for him if he ended up with a broken leg in a dirty alley in downtown Atlanta. In that situation, he could just slap a sign on himself that said “dinner” and lie back to wait for his end.

Brandt reached the roof easily enough and gained his footing on the flat graveled surface. From there, he took a few moments to look out across the city and plan his next step. Smoke billowed on the horizon, close to the edge of the downtown metro area. A tornado siren blasted its monotonous refrain from somewhere in the city, warning Atlanta residents to get to a safe place. Gunfire rang out too close to Brandt’s position for comfort. Screams echoed faintly through the streets nearby, but Brandt didn’t dare check out the source. An ambulance siren played its part in the symphony of a city falling in on itself.

Brandt dropped to his knees, suddenly overwhelmed by the trauma he’d experienced that day. He ignored the gravel digging into his skin through his pants and covered his mouth as he fought off the bile that rose in his throat. The horror he’d faced throbbed in his brain even as he closed his eyes. The things Brandt had seen that day were worse than anything he’d ever dreamed of seeing overseas in combat; the images would stay with him forever. It was all Brandt could do to remain upright in his kneeling position as he fought to choke back the sickness in his mouth and in his soul.

Brandt couldn’t hold it back, though, and he hunched over the gravel and vomited. His throat burned and his eyes watered as he gripped the edge of the building and dug his fingers into the stone. His chest heaved as he coughed up the remains of his last meal. Brandt rocked back on his heels, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, and cleared his throat. The taste in his mouth was awful, but it was the last thing on his mind. He felt at his face, testing his own temperature as best he could. Brandt couldn’t tell if he was running a fever or if it was just heat generated by his climb up the fire escape ladder. He was sure he would be feeling the symptoms by now if…

Brandt shook his head, clearing his throat once more as he took in the view. “A virus did all of this?” he whispered hoarsely. He looked upon the city once more. The city in which he’d grown up. The city he had loved more than any other city he’d seen in his time in the military. It was like nothing Brandt had ever witnessed before. It was the beginning of the end of civilization, and the thought terrified him. “How can this even be possible?” he asked out loud to no one.

Derek Rivers was wrong. Derek Rivers had to have been wrong. The man who had warned him of this very possibility was long dead, one of the early victims of the viral outbreak that, even now, swept over Atlanta and beyond with a speed to rival the Black Death itself. Brandt had thought that Derek had exaggerated in his tales of test subjects and viruses and drugs. But Derek hadn’t exaggerated. Indeed, Derek hadn’t gone far enough in his description of the total devastation that the virus could visit upon the city. Brandt doubted that the man had ever thought it would get this far, that he had ever thought his worst-case scenario would come so terrifyingly true.

“Which way, which way?” Brandt whispered. He forced himself to his feet once more. It wasn’t time to be puking on a roof and reminiscing about men who were likely dead. He slowly surveyed the rooftop, searching for an escape route and a plan. He looked in every direction, uncertain which way would be safest. None of them, really. Safety was a foreign concept to Atlanta now.

Before Brandt went anywhere, however, he needed weapons. He needed food. He needed water. And he needed a place to hide for the night.

About the Author

Jessica Meigs is the author of The Becoming, a post-apocalyptic thriller series that follows a group of people trying to survive a massive viral outbreak in the southeastern United States. After gaining notoriety for having written the series on a variety of BlackBerry devices, she self-published two novellas that now make up the first book of the series. In April 2011, she accepted a three-book deal with Permuted Press to publish a trilogy of novels. The first of the trilogy, entitled The Becoming, was released in November 2011 on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Audible in paperback, eBook, and audiobook formats. It was also named one of Barnes & Noble’s Best Zombie Fiction Releases of 2011 and Best Apocalyptic Fiction Releases of 2011. In March 2012, she released a related novella entitled The Becoming: Brothers in Arms. The second novel in the series, The Becoming: Ground Zero, is coming in July 2012 from Permuted Press, with a third novel, The Becoming: Revelations, to follow. A fourth and fifth book are currently in the process of being written.

Jessica lives in semi-obscurity in Demopolis, Alabama. When she’s not writing, she works full time as an EMT. She enjoys listening to music and spends way too much time building playlists for everything she writes. When she’s not rocking out at concerts or writing or working, she can be found on Twitter @JessicaMeigs, on Facebook at facebook.com/JessicaMeigs, and on Goodreads at goodreads.com/jessicameigs. You can also visit her website at www.jessicameigs.com.

Giveaway Time!

Simply leave a comment for a chance to win an eCopy of The Becoming by Jessica Meigs

Follow the Tour!





Alison Groen, Rosie Discovers 05/27/2012 Review

Reena Jacobs, Ramblings of an Amateur Author 05/30/2012 Bio/Excerpt

Rea, Rea’s Reading and Reviews 05/30/2012  Bio/Excerpt

Vanessa Romano, The Jeep Diva 05/31/2012 Interview

Teressa Morris, Window on the World  06/01/2012 Review

Jessica Mason, Wickedly Bookish 06/02/2012 Review

Gwen Perkins, A Few Words 06/03/2012 Guest Blog

Kriss Morton, Cabin Goddess 06/05/2012 Guest Blog

Suzie, Books Reviewed by Bunny 06/06/2012 Interview

Susan Peck, My Cozie Corner 06/08/2012 Review

Kimberley, Turning The Pages 06/09/2012

Tuesday Teaser: Mary Ting + Giveaway Info

We’re doing something a little different on this Tuesday Teaser. Instead of an excerpt, how about videos? Today, Mary Ting presents her Crossroads Saga. I don’t know about you all, but I’m a sucker for Nephilim.

Claudia Emerson has a good friend who shares the same first name and last name. That friend unfortunately dies in a tragic accident during homecoming dance. Claudia is distraught at the loss of her friend, but is even more disturbed by her dreams, which seem to take her to another place called Crossroads. Unknown to her, Crossroads is like a second heaven, a place between heaven and earth. It is where the souls of humans in comas or near death experiences may wander. Where, Claudia meets Michael, a nephilim, a half angel, half human, whom she often meets in her dreams. It turns out that this isn’t her first visit to Crossroads, which is an enigma for no human can ever travel there until Claudia.

Now the fallen and demons are after her, suspecting she must be special and it is up to Michael and the other nephilims to protect her. Her dream becomes a nightmare as more secrets are revealed, about who she really is, and the true identities of the people she loves most. Can Michael fight his growing feelings for Claudia and protect her as a guardian angel should?

Available at Barnes &  Nobles || Smashwords || The Book Depository

As the alkins head back to Crossroads, Claudia leads her normal life; but not for long. Having a special soul, Claudia attracts danger, and she soon finds out who Gamma asked to watch over her. The Twelve, known as Divine Elders on Earth, are very much involved when they find out that Aliah, one of the God’s first angels, escaped from the Abyss when the gates were opened by Aden. Needing Claudia’s soul to escape the only place Aliah can reside–a place between Heaven and Earth–he sends his demons in search of all Claudia Emersons on Earth. Taking her soul will enable him to be released from Between and cross over to Crossroads, which would give him immense power. As more secrets are revealed Claudia learns about the venators—nephilim, demon hunters. Now two opposing forces must work together in order to save Claudia and humanity from the most dangerous angel ever created. But along the way, trust becomes a big issue. Will love be enough to keep Claudia and Michael together? Who will make the ultimate sacrifice? Who will betray them all?

Available at Barnes &  Nobles || Smashwords || The Book Depository

About the Author

Mary Ting resides in Southern California with her husband and two children. She enjoys oil painting and making jewelry. Writing Crossroads was a way to grieve the death of her beloved grandmother. It was inspired by a dream she once had as a young girl.

Find Mary Ting online!

Website || Facebook || Twitter || Goodreads

Giveaway Info

As I was creeping Mary Ting, I came across a couple of giveaways for her Crossroads Saga! To win a signed copy of Crossroads, head to this link (Giveaway ends July 20, 2012). And for a copy of between, try this link (giveaway ends June 26, 2012).

Review Drive Giveaway ($50 in prizes!)

June is my birthday month
To celebrate, I’m throwing myself a review drive

It’s time to come out of the woodworks! I know you’ve read my stories… now it’s time to chime in. What did you think? Bombed or Da Bomb?

I’m looking for reviews, people! As an incentive, I’m having a giveaway. Leave a review for any of my works at one or all of the following locations for a chance to win:

Amazon US, Amazon UK, Amazon DE, Amazon FR, Barnes & Nobles, Smashwords, Diesel, Kobo, Sony Store, iTunes or The Book Depository.

What’s up for Grabs?
Winner’s Choice

$50 Gift Card from Amazon
$50 Gift Card from Barnes & Nobles
$50 worth of books from The Book Depository
$50 worth of books from Smashwords
A combination of books or gift cards from the retailers listed above (Amazon, B&N, TBD, SW) equal to $50

So how does this work?

Fill out the form.
You may enter as many times as you want. Each review counts as one (1) entry, even if it’s just a copy and paste from one site to another. So let’s say you live in the US and review I Loved You First . You can copy and paste your review for I Loved You First to each of the sites listed above for your country (US) for a total of 8 entries.
Past reviews count. So if you want to enter a review you did from 2010, go for it.
No purchase necessarily. Purchasing a copy of my work(s) does not increase your chances of winning.
Giveaway ends on my birthday, June 30.
Refer to giveaway policy for nitty gritty.

So I mentioned no purchase necessary, but it’s rather difficult to review a work without having a copy to read. Catch-22? I don’t think so. If you’re in the US, you’ll find copies of Circulatory System free on most distribution sites. Download a copy and review it. Then enter to win. If you’re in another country and are having a bit of trouble finding it, try Smashwords. My understanding is Smashwords is international. So there you have it…a freebie for everyone.

If you want to go beyond Circulatory System and try your hand at some of my other works, you’ll find them at Amazon US, Amazon UK, Amazon DE, Amazon FR, Amazon ES, Amazon IT, Barnes & Nobles, Smashwords, Diesel, Kobo, Sony Store, iTunes, CreateSpace (ILYF in Print), CreateSpace (SC in Print), or The Book Depository (Print w/free shipping).

Spread the word for extra entries (more free ways to enter!!!!!)



Fill out the extra entries form
Sign up for my newsletter (1 pts)
Blog about the giveaway (2 pts)
Share (Tweet/Facebook/etc) (1 pts)
If you’re not sure how to link your Tweets or Facebook status, here’s a nifty tutorial I found.

Also check out the other giveaways happening at Ramblings of an Amateur Writer

 

Review Drive Giveaway

June is my birthday month
To celebrate, I’m throwing myself a review drive

It’s time to come out of the woodworks! I know you’ve read my stories… now it’s time to chime in. What did you think? Bombed or Da Bomb?

I’m looking for reviews, people! As an incentive, I’m having a giveaway. Leave a review for any of my works at one or all of the following locations for a chance to win:

Amazon US, Amazon UK, Amazon DE, Amazon FR, Barnes & Nobles, Smashwords, Diesel, Kobo, Sony Store, iTunes or The Book Depository.

What’s up for Grabs?
Winner’s Choice

$50 Gift Card from Amazon
$50 Gift Card from Barnes & Nobles
$50 worth of books from The Book Depository
$50 worth of books from Smashwords
A combination of books or gift cards from the retailers listed above (Amazon, B&N, TBD, SW) equal to $50

So how does this work?

Fill out the form.
You may enter as many times as you want. Each review counts as one (1) entry, even if it’s just a copy and paste from one site to another. So let’s say you live in the US and review I Loved You First . You can copy and paste your review for I Loved You First to each of the sites listed above for your country (US) for a total of 8 entries.
Past reviews count. So if you want to enter a review you did from 2010, go for it.
No purchase necessarily. Purchasing a copy of my work(s) does not increase your chances of winning.
Giveaway ends on my birthday, June 30.
Refer to giveaway policy for nitty gritty.

So I mentioned no purchase necessary, but it’s rather difficult to review a work without having a copy to read. Catch-22? I don’t think so. If you’re in the US, you’ll find copies of Circulatory System free on most distribution sites. Download a copy and review it. Then enter to win. If you’re in another country and are having a bit of trouble finding it, try Smashwords. My understanding is Smashwords is international. So there you have it…a freebie for everyone.

If you want to go beyond Circulatory System and try your hand at some of my other works, you’ll find them at Amazon US, Amazon UK, Amazon DE, Amazon FR, Amazon ES, Amazon IT, Barnes & Nobles, Smashwords, Diesel, Kobo, Sony Store, iTunes, CreateSpace (ILYF in Print), CreateSpace (SC in Print), or The Book Depository (Print w/free shipping).

Spread the word for extra entries (more free ways to enter!!!!!)



Fill out the extra entries form
Sign up for my newsletter (3 pts)
Blog about the giveaway (5 pts)
Share (Tweet/Facebook/etc) (2 pts)
If you’re not sure how to link your Tweets or Facebook status, here’s a nifty tutorial I found.

Also check out the other giveaways happening at Ramblings of an Amateur Writer

Non-Fiction Review: How To Sell More Kindle eBooks

I found this book while searching for advice on how to increase sales. Happened upon the author’s website and was lucky enough to find she was promoting her book for free. Yeah me!

Wouldn’t it be great if you could write a book, publish it, and watch your sales take off? Well, you can! With Kindle Direct Publishing, you can set up your ebook so that it works with you to increase sales. This ebook shares how to best utilize your book file and set up information to sell more books, and of course I cover everything you can do afterwards to grow your readership. It’s not hard, it doesn’t take hours and hours, and almost every step is free. Don’t spend time building email lists or writing newsletters when you can have fun, engage others, and build a fan base.

I’m a full time writer, and I’m sharing all the small, easy, tactical steps I’ve taken to increase my ebook sales month by month. You can enjoy the writing life and sell thousands of ebooks every month too.

How to Sell More Kindle eBooks offers tried and proven tips on cover design, formatting, Kindle set up to maximize sales, using your Amazon page and profile, social networking, gaining reviews and more. This ebook can guide you through publishing to Kindle for the best results, and it’s easy to go back through your set up information for published ebooks to best utilize the tools. This 50 page guide shares all my secrets for selling Kindle ebooks: everything I’ve tried, learned and succeeded with to increase my book royalties into an income.

Ms. Kristen James provides a quick overview of successfully publishing a book (from writing a great work to marketing that work). She doesn’t go deep into details, but she does provide useful tips along the way.

Why I gave this book 5 stars?

With research, most if not all of the information Ms. James provides in this book can be found online with a bit of effort. In fact, I see a lot of authors implementing the strategies with varying degrees of success. On the other hand, I also see quite a few authors sitting on their island of one, wondering why no one knows or cares about their book(s). How to Sell More Kindle eBooks is for folks in the latter category.

Following the techniques provided may not make an author an instance successful, but it does have the potential to make an author’s book(s) more visible to readers.

If you’re an author who’s struggling to get a handful of sales each month, I HIGHLY recommend this book. Perhaps it’ll get you headed in the right direction.

As I mentioned, this book is great for authors just starting out in self-publishing. Authors who’ve spent some time in the field may find the tips are old news, but it certainly doesn’t hurt to have a book of reminders.

As a side note: this book was short, to the point, and well-written. As an author who’s already pressed for time, I appreciated the brevity.

Available Amazon

Chasing Shadows – Making Amends (5)

Welcome to installment #5 of the Chasing Shadows – Making Amends series. For more information or to read the previous scene, head to this page.

Chapter 2

Present

Mujur awakened with a sudden surge of energy. His entire body stiffened, and his eyes popped open to a foreign world of beige instead of familiar green vegetation.

He jolted upright, and the ground beneath him shifted. Adrenaline pumped through his system, while the jerky motion threatened to bring up the contents of his stomach.

The bouncing slowed, and he became aware of the vice-like grip he held on the poles to either side of him. The ground was not ground, but rather a bed of sort with pliable material suspending him above blue flooring.

“Good to see you up.” On the other side of the hut, Bryan, his clansman, lay on an identical raised bed. “We were worried about you.”

We? Mujur dismissed Bryan’s concern. He knew his standing in the clan… in this life. The only one who worries about me is me. He took a deep breath, willing his heart to slow as he took in his surroundings.

A tent. Artificial light in a far corner near Bryan’s feet illuminated the area and cast shadows off the human gadgets littering the place.

Mujur rotated and rubbed his left shoulder. It was often sore after being immobile for an extended period—a constant reminder of the shift which had dislocated the joint but allowed him to escape death six years earlier. Only now, the skin itched in addition to the achy muscles. He swung his legs to the floor. “How did I get here?”

“We brought you here,” Bryan said.

That “we” again.

“You don’t remember anything?” Bryan asked. “You were in an underground cavern, surrounded by demons. I don’t know what they planned, but it looked like a sacrificial ritual.”

Images of scrawny creatures—small insignificant things with large bulbous heads—flashed through Mujur’s head. Jenglots. He could have dispatched them all, but they’d taken him off guard. By the time he’d come to, they’d already had him splayed across the stone. Across the cold stone…

He squeezed his eyes as the caning overlapped the more recent memories. “How did you find me?”

Bryan sat, crossing his legs. “I didn’t. Eric and Berani did.”

Mujur cringed internally. He could think of few things worse than being indebted to a human turned wehr-tiger. Losing his soul to demons was one of them. He tapped down his irritation and counted himself fortunate Eric had come to his aid.

“Do you remember what happened?” Bryan asked.

“Some. I found the cavern, but they”—he met Bryan’s eyes briefly—“the demons must have been prepared for me. I entered the chamber, and a jenglot fell from the ceiling. Everything’s a blank from there… except…”

“Except what?”

“Long gnarled fingers tipped with dingy talons…” Mujur ran his hand across the old scars riddling his chest—a brand of shame into the next life—but the numerous tiny cuts the demons had inflicted were gone.

“Opah healed you, and the demons are dead. All of them are dead…” Bryan studied him.

“What?”

“…except for the penanggalan which escaped.”

The information washed over Mujur like a suffocating mud slide. His life meant nothing. If he’d died in the cave with the demons, no one would miss him, but Berani, the clan’s matriarch… she was important. His failure meant the penanggalan would hunt her, other wehr-tigresses, and wehr-cubs. Mujur narrowed his gaze at Bryan. “I’ll track it. I promised Berani. I will fulfill my duty to her.”

Bryan raised a ginger brow. “Opah may have healed you, but your body still needs to recover. Worry about the penanggalan later; for now just get better. You can stay here until then.”

Mujur surveyed the cluttered mess surrounding him, took in the canvas ceiling which trapped him and concealed the freedom just beyond. “Here?”

“The research camp. You’ll be safe. I have to leave tomorrow, but Eric will check on—”

Mujur rose. “I want nothing from him.” He blinked as colorful dots obscured his vision. Dizziness swept over him like a wave, and he took a step as he lost his balance. Only Bryan’s hand on his shoulder kept him from careening to the side.

His clans mate scoffed. “Such arrogance.”

Bryan’s face came into focus as the floating bubbles faded.

Mujur took in the red hair, hazel eyes, and bulky clothing—a wehr-tiger living amongst humans. “Such duplicity.”

Bryan’s eyes twitched, and his mouth drew into a sneer. “Fine.” He released his hold.

Without the steadying hand, Mujur wobbled before finding his equilibrium.

Bryan drew back a portion of the tent, revealing the night. “I certainly wouldn’t want you to stay in a place where you felt uncomfortable.”

Mujur locked eyes with his clansmen. “As long as you stand on the cusp of two worlds, you will never belong to either.”

“You know nothing about me.” Despite the strength of the words, Bryan’s eyes flickered with uncertainty.

A bout of sympathy hit Mujur hard. He knew all too well the loneliness of being an outcast. Suddenly, challenging Bryan became too much of a struggle, and he broke eye contact. With his head sitting on his neck like a heavy stone, Mujur staggered outside.

The tent fabric fluttered as it settled into place, resealing the dwelling and taking the light with it. Not that it mattered. Mujur’s wehr-tiger vision adjusted to accommodate.

Amongst the tents, contraptions and stray material were strewn about in disorder, discarded and uncared for. Tree stumps jutted around the camp while abandoned piles of broken logs lay scattered throughout. Bryan’s territory—a wasteland of destruction.

If the fraudulent wehr-tiger wanted to sacrifice his life to unworthy humans, so be it. Mujur wanted nothing to do with it. He took a deep breath, and humid night air filled his lungs and refreshed him, despite the storm brewing in his mind. He headed north to his own land, a wilderness untainted by humans.

New Release: She’s Mine (Control Freak: Book 3)

Have you heard? My latest release She’s Mine is now available at Barnes & Nobles, Smashwords, and Amazon.

Regina’s looking to spice up the marriage… with the introduction of another man. Brandon’s willing to do just about anything to please his wife, but can Regina convince him the more the merrier?

Barnes & Nobles || Smashwords || Amazon US || Amazon UK || Amazon FR || Amazon DE || Amazon ES || Amazon IT || Diesel || Sony Reader || Kobo Books || iTunes || Goodreads

Early Bird Special

Use coupon code SE29N at Smashwords for 50% off.

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