Margay Leah Justice: Win a Kindle Fire HDX, Amazon Gift Card or Paypal ...: We are giving away 2 Kindles!! The first one is available via the rafflecopter below. The 2nd is available only to bloggers who post abou...
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Margay Leah Justice: Entangled Embrace giveaway: “Bad Boy” or “Boy Next...
Margay Leah Justice: Entangled Embrace giveaway: “Bad Boy” or “Boy Next...: Do you love the Bad Boy, or are you more into the Boy Next Door? Either way, Embrace , Entangled’s New Adult imprint, has you covered. With...
Wednesday, March 5, 2014
Book Spotlight: Immortality by Kevin Bohacz
Title: Immortality
Genre:
Techno-ThrillerAuthor: Kevin Bohacz
Publisher: CPrompt
Pages: 389
Format: Paperback/Kindle
Purchase at Amazon
Without
warning, something has gone terribly awry. In the remote and unnoticed places
of the world, small pockets of death begin occurring. As the initially isolated
extinctions spread, the world’s eyes focus on this unimaginable horror and
chaos. Out of the ecological imbalance, something new and extraordinary is
evolving and surviving to fill the voids left by these extinctions. Evolution is
operating in ways no one could have expected and environmental damage may be
the catalyst. Once discovered, this knowledge changes everything.
Excerpt:
The
rainforest had a humid, earthy smell that reminded him of home. Diego was
twenty-two years old and, like most of his village, he’d spent half his life
away from home. The bulldozer he was illegally operating was idling in neutral.
In front of him were a half dozen control levers and gauges. With a worker’s
rough hands, he compressed the squeeze-grip on a lever and pushed forward. He
heard the sound of grinding gears. The tree cutter failed to engage. The huge
dozer was thirty-year-old army surplus. There was a cable problem in the lever
he was working. The problem sometimes caused the squeeze-grip to snap shut when
the transmission grabbed. If he was not careful, the squeeze-grip could badly
pinch his hand. Diego pushed harder on the lever. He could feel teeth missing
in the gears from how the lever bucked back against his push. Without warning,
the gears dropped into place as the squeeze-grip bit his palm. It was like a
vicious dog. An angry welt throbbed in his palm. He cursed the dozer. He cursed
the steaming heat. He’d drunk two quarts of water since breakfast, and lunch
break was still hours away.
The rainforest was alive with insects. Diego had never seen this many in all the years he’d illegally logged the deep forests. There was a steady drone which was louder than the diesel engine he controlled. Tiny no-see-em’s, biting things, had left a rash across the back of his neck that felt like sunburn. Earlier, he’d scratched it raw but now had a bandanna tied around his neck to remind him to leave it be. The bulldozer rocked into a depression as the cutter began chew-ing through the trunk of a mahogany tree. Diego fed more fuel into the beast’s engine. The dozer’s treads dug in; there was a hesitation. He could feel the strain building. Tons of steel lurched forward pitch-ing him in his seat. Another tree tumbled, its branches snapping like rapid-fire gunshots as it crumpled into the ground. The front of the beast was equipped with a chain driven saw instead of a dozer blade. The fixture had a pair of serrated edges that shimmied back and forth like steel teeth. Pieces of shredded green leaves and bark caught on the teeth’s edges. Diego had long ago decided the beast was a sloppy eater.
The insect sounds of the forest had stopped. As far as Diego knew, these insects never stopped. He dropped the beast into neutral then switched it off.
The rainforest was alive with insects. Diego had never seen this many in all the years he’d illegally logged the deep forests. There was a steady drone which was louder than the diesel engine he controlled. Tiny no-see-em’s, biting things, had left a rash across the back of his neck that felt like sunburn. Earlier, he’d scratched it raw but now had a bandanna tied around his neck to remind him to leave it be. The bulldozer rocked into a depression as the cutter began chew-ing through the trunk of a mahogany tree. Diego fed more fuel into the beast’s engine. The dozer’s treads dug in; there was a hesitation. He could feel the strain building. Tons of steel lurched forward pitch-ing him in his seat. Another tree tumbled, its branches snapping like rapid-fire gunshots as it crumpled into the ground. The front of the beast was equipped with a chain driven saw instead of a dozer blade. The fixture had a pair of serrated edges that shimmied back and forth like steel teeth. Pieces of shredded green leaves and bark caught on the teeth’s edges. Diego had long ago decided the beast was a sloppy eater.
The insect sounds of the forest had stopped. As far as Diego knew, these insects never stopped. He dropped the beast into neutral then switched it off.
There was
silence.
Out of this
stillness, a faint crackling sound rose from the distance, then disappeared,
and then came again. He listened carefully. It took him a moment to realize the
faraway sound was trees falling. The log- ging company operated a small army of
dozers, far apart now; but by evening they would all meet up, connecting each
of the separate cutting tracks into a solid plot. Diego swung round in his seat
and gazed back. A swath of fallen tropical forest lay behind him: mahogany and
cedar and even some rosewood along with countless varieties of plants and
bushes. The largest trees were left standing so their canopies would hide the
results of his work from the few government scouting planes that were not on
the company’s payroll. Heavy tractors would come through later to drag out the
good logs. He got paid by the yard for mahogany, rosewood, and cedar; the rest
was trash. Today it looked like he would earn a small fortune; tomorrow might
bring nothing. He lit a cigarette and left it hanging in his lips. After
starting the engine, he ground the shifter into a forward gear and moved out.
He drew cigarette smoke into his lungs then exhaled through his nose. No time
to rest. He needed every bit of money he could earn. He didn’t blink as a cloud
of insects flew into his face as their nest was churned into rubbish by his
dozer’s teeth.
The humidity
was so high that water had begun to evaporate into a fine mist. A steam cloud
floated through the tops of the trees blurring the upper canopy into a milky
green. Diego swung the beast around in a stationary about-face. The base camp
was miles behind him by the river. The camp was a dock and tents with ratty
screens. Beside the camp was a tree covered clearing that at night was filled
with sleeping dozers and other heavy equipment. By now, a pot of beans would be
simmering for lunch. A hunk of flat bread and canned beer would complete the
meal. No meat. He’d lived worse. Everything here had been secretly brought in
by river barge, including him and the other labors. With luck, he could cut a
second swath back toward camp and arrive by lunch. Today would fill his pocket
with more than two hundred Reals… a new record.
The logging
ride out of the forest turned out to be easier than the ride in. The trees in
his new path were an ideal size for cutting. Diego began thinking about his
wife Carla and their dream. She’d been anx- ious to come with him into this
hell. He had kissed her and told her no… no wife of his would suffer in a place
like this. In seven months, he would be a father. The foreign company running
this operation was taking good care of her. She’d written last week that the
company had paid for a test with a machine that was like an x-ray but used
sound. The nurse had told her the baby would be a boy. Diego smiled with that
memory… it was a good one. He would have a boy who would grow up to be his
friend. That was a new part of the dream; the old part was still a small house
outside Maceio ,
the coastal city where Diego was born. Diego instinctively slowed the dozer to
the speed of a man’s stride.
He squinted
watching a cloud of rain moving toward him along the path he’d just cut from
camp. The rain didn’t appear heavy, but when mixed with ground steam it was
solid enough to bring a false twilight. Nothing could be seen inside the cloud.
The dozer had a roll cage. A piece of corrugated sheet metal had been welded to
the top of the cage as a roof. Diego switched on spotlights. Drops started
hitting the sheet metal with rhythmic pings. The humidity grew heavier. The air
surrounded him like a damp towel. He pulled off his t-shirt and wiped his face
with it. A storm of birds fled from some trees his dozer was about to consume.
Their colored shapes moved past him at eye level like watercolor paints in fog.
Diego cocked his head to one side. He sensed something wrong.
Grinding the
shifter into neutral, he idled the machine. As the noise of his engine simmered
down, he was able to hear the far off sounds of a dozer racing at top speed. He
heard an engine revving at its highest rpm… no, it was two engines. More than
one dozer was racing through the forest. This was very unusual. A hollow
feeling began gnawing inside his chest. He remembered stories of odd things
that happened to people alone in the forest. He heard a different sound like a
wet towel hitting the ground in front of him. He leaned forward, squinting into
the fog. A bird tumbled from the air bouncing off the cab, the sound startling
Diego badly. The bird fluttered, then righted itself on the ground and took
off. He saw another bird fall a couple yards away, then another, and another.
They would roll around a bit, then fix themselves and fly off. This was very
strange… too strange. He now understood why dozers were racing through the forest.
Something very bad was happening. He shoved the dozer into gear and slammed his
feet into the pedals. The beast jumped forward at top power. He heard muck
spitting into the air off the backs of the tread-plates. To devil with cutting
the second track. To devil with the money. He was going to get out of here as
fast as this dozer could race. The treads were clanking at an accelerating pace
as the beast slowly picked up speed. He disengaged the tree saw to gain a few
more drops of power. He plowed through the top of a tree he’d cut earlier, then
another. He was doing close to ten miles per hour. A man might run faster, but
not through this brush and not for the miles that remained to the camp.
Without
warning, he felt dizzy, an ill kind of dizzy. The fingers on his right hand
went numb, then paralyzed. He tried to move the fingers, but they were limp.
Coldness was spreading up from his hand. The more he tried to flex his fingers,
the worse it got. In seconds, his entire right arm was hanging flaccid at his side.
Whatever had gotten the birds was working on him. He knew it. The trees kept
moving past him in a blur. He realized with an odd disconnect that he was
having difficulty drawing breaths.
He thought
about Carla and the baby. His jaw squeezed tight. His lips formed a grim line.
He would make it for them.
The dozer
glanced off a large tree and kept going. The impact rocked him. He wheezed,
attempting to draw air into his chest. Maybe two miles remained until base
camp. He began veering off the trail. The saw-blade snagged on a mahogany six
feet in diameter. Diego was pitched from his seat. Dizzy and unable to hold on,
he fell from the cab. His shoulder hit a moving tread-plate, which tossed him
off the rig. He was like a paralyzed sack of meat.
“Umph!” He landed
on the ground. He thought how odd it was that he’d bounced. He didn’t know
people could bounce when they hit the ground. The tractor rumbled beside him.
Without his feet on the pedals, the dozer had stopped. The left side of his
face was a mix of blood and dirt. He tried to draw air into his lungs but
failed. His mind felt like it was beginning to evaporate. His entire body
tingled. He felt no pain. The muscles that worked his lungs were no longer
responding. He thought of calling for help, but without his lungs he could do
nothing. He gave up struggling and stared skyward at the treetops and thought
of Carla. Moments later, his heart stopped beating. He felt calm as what was
left of his mind faded into a warm nothing.
Sarah Mayfair
opened her eyes. The nightmare was still around her. Her vision was not in this
world but in some other. The nightmare was of underground water, great arteries
of rivers and streams and lakes. Where the liquid pooled, it was cool and deep.
She sensed this water was alive with thoughts, evil thoughts. A teaspoonful of
it teamed with plans of death. She was floating deep under the water, staring
as drowned people glided past her face sinking into the depths of a bottomless
pool. Looking down, she saw a trail of countless tiny bodies slowly pirouetting
as they drifted into the yawning darkness below her feet… Headlights from a car
traveled across a wall of her room. The lights dwelled on a wooden credenza,
then moved on. She followed the glow with her eyes seeing reality for the first
time. The simple act of seeing began to clear the veils of her nightmare. Her
breathing slowed. She realized she was covered in sweat.
Outside, a
subzero wind was blowing unimpeded through a forest of leafless trees and ice
crusted snow. The windowpanes rattled and hummed. Small drafts snuck through
the rooms. She shivered as the drafts caressed her dampened skin. She was in
the living room of her home. She recognized the shadowy details of furniture
and walls. Her boyfriend Kenny was in the bedroom asleep. She remembered
getting up and walking out here to be by herself to think. The nightmares had
grown worse, more of them with each passing week. She was starting to see the
faces of people she knew in these nightmares. She sensed it was some kind of
horrible parade of those who would die. She remem- bered Kenny’s image from the
dream.
Her body stiffened. A disembodied voice was whispering into her left ear. The words were unintelligible… garbled, but unmistakably evil. This can’t be happening. She screamed out in frustration and grief at the seeds of budding madness.
Discuss this book in our PUYB Virtual Book Club at Goodreads by clicking HERE
About the Author
Visit Kevin’s website at www.kbohacz.com.
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Ghost of the Gods Tour Page
Monday, March 3, 2014
Book Spotlight: Twelve to Murder By Lauren Carr
Title: Twelve to Murder
Author: Lauren Carr
Publisher: Acorn Book Services
Genre: Mystery
Format: eBook
Purchase at AMAZON
Two people are brutally murdered in their summer place on Deep Creek
Lake midnight ?
Book Excerpt:
Sunday:
6:12 am
“Austin
Two paces behind his wife,
Roland took note of the white stone mansion along the chilly lakeshore. The
mansion looked closed up. All was quiet, as it was with many of the estates
along the lake in the early spring. With each passing day, the quiet was giving
way to the snowbirds came in to roost at their summer homes in the resort town
of Spencer Deep
Creek Lake Maryland
As the middle aged athletic
couple walked briskly on the running trail along the lake, they noted that that
mansion was quiet. The only tell-tale sign of change from its winter
hibernation was the yacht on the dock in the back. It had not been there the
morning before.
“I wonder if Janice will be
throwing her week long Fourth of July bash with all her has-been clients this
year?” Roland asked.
“I can tell you right now that
I’m not going if that loser Lenny is here.” Feeling her heartbeat slowing down,
she picked up her pace.
“Come on,” her husband said with a laugh,
“Lenny Frost isn’t that bad. He’s really kind of funny.”
“He’s crude,” she shot over her
shoulder at him.
He was going to respond that he
felt sorry for the least popular of Janice Stillman’s former celebrity client
when a black Porsche almost hit the couple rushing pass them and turning
sharply into the driveway of the white mansion.
“Do you two ever take a break?”
the young man shouted at them when he threw open the door and climbed out of
the sports car.
“Never,” Olivia answered with a
frown at Derrick Stillman’s apparent lack of self-discipline displayed in the
slight stagger in his pace, and clearly having slept in his clothes, or maybe
not slept in them, but clearly having worn them the day before judging by their
wrinkled and disheveled appearance.
“Well, you can work-out for me,
too.”
“Party last night?” Roland
asked.
“Date.” Derrick ran his fingers through his
dark curly hair. “I was going to come in yesterday with my folks, but when I
met Maddie the other day—“ He let out a cocky laugh. “Well, you know how it
is.”
“I can imagine,” Olivia said in
a bland tone.
“She’s got a body to die for
and she’s crazy about me.” With a swagger in his walk, he made his way to the
front door.
“Come along, Roland,” Olivia
ordered.
The couple continued on their
way. They had only made it to the other end of the property before Derrick’s
screams stopped them. The young man was running out the front door and dropped
to his knees in the yard when they made it back to the driveway.
Olivia rushed over to the young
man, who had his face buried in his hands. “Cliff, what’s wrong?”
Shrieking, the young man
pointed to the door.
Roland ran inside.
“What happened, Derrick?” she
demanded to know. “What’s going on? What’s in there?”
His face white, Roland came
running back outside.
Olivia’s heartbeat was racing.
“Roland …”
“They’re dead,” he said in a
panicked tone while taking his cell phone out of his pocket. “Both of them.
Janice and Austin. I can’t believe this would happen here … in Spencer.”
“Who—“ she asked with tears in
her eyes.
“Janice wrote something in her
blood—” He stopped to turn his attention to the cell phone. “I’d like to report
two murders.”
“Her killer,” Derrick spat out.
“I saw it, too. Lenny. Why else would Mom have written out his name in her
blood while she was dying? Lenny Frost did it. He killed my parents.”
Discuss this book in our PUYB Virtual Book Club at Goodreads by clicking HERE
Twelve to Murder Tour Page:
About the Author:
Lauren Carr is the best-selling author of the Mac Faraday Mysteries, which takes place in Deep Creek Lake , Maryland
In addition to her series set on Deep Creek Lake
The owner of Acorn Book Services, Lauren is also a publishing manager, consultant, editor, cover and layout designer, and marketing agent for independent authors. This year, several books, over a variety of genre, written by independent authors will be released through the management of Acorn Book Services, which is currently accepting submissions. Visit Acorn Book Services website for more information.
Lauren is a popular speaker who has made appearances at schools, youth groups, and on author panels at conventions. She also passes on what she has learned in her years of writing and publishing by conducting workshops and teaching in community education classes.
She lives with her husband, son, and three dogs on a mountain in Harpers Ferry , WV
Visit her author website at www.mysterylady.net.
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