I meant to do these more spaced out but when its your birthday and your whole family plus friends are there, they want all your attention and won't let you just pop to your computer to post about your new release. I am having a good day. Friends and family are important and I don't know what I'd do without them.
Here are a couple of extracts from my new release - Silent Doll, enjoy!
Excerpt 1“You’re dating a vampire, but can’t stretch that imagination of yours to include U.F.O’s.”
“I’m sorry, I just don’t believe in the little green men. Besides, ‘I vant to suck your blood’ is much more plausible than ‘we come in peace. Take us to your leader.’”
“Yeah. You know they’re going to vaporize him the minute you turn your back, evil little suckers.”
I stopped dead, letting her get a few steps ahead of me before she turned round.
“Sometimes,” I said, “I swear there’s a giant Warner Brothers cartoon going on in your head all the time.”
She just smiled and waited patiently for me to start walking again. I made my feet start moving, and we headed for the venue listed on the ticket.
The warehouse in question was decked out to look like something out of the 1930’s: all smoky glass, bright lights, and velvet ropes. Most of the people waiting in line seemed to be couples. I pulled the tickets out of my bag, prompting a number of envious glances, and went straight for the doorman, a tall skinny man in a bowler hat, white vest and black trousers held up with actual suspenders.
His arms were decorated from the wrist to the shoulder in black tribal-style tattoos. They were spectacular; I wondered if they continued across his chest. If they did, he would probably still look dressed even shirtless. His smile showed tar-stained teeth.
“Right this way, sweets, ticket holders get in first,” he said. His voice was as smoky as the windows, a deep baritone that was a tad sexy but mostly scary. It was the kind of voice you did not want someone sneaking up behind you to have. It promised things you might not be sure you would like.
Excerpt 2The girl was sitting against the bottom of the wall between two green dumpsters piled with black sacks, beer bottles and empty pizza boxes. Her legs were sprawled at an abnormal angle, as though she’d scrambled back from her attacker until the wall had prevented her from going any further. Her arm lay down at her sides, palms up, and her head lolled to the left. She looked like a marionette who’d had its strings cut. A silent doll, who was done dancing. Her eyes were wide, mascara smeared into black lines like spider legs. Potato Suit Bob Two, a member of the forensics team who doubled as a photographer, took a photo, then tried to put her head straight. Blood spat across his legs from a wound that had been pressurized by the angle. I held one arm across my belly as my stomach roiled.
“I think I might toss my cookies,” Hamilton said, “which is ironic as that’s the last thing I ate.”
“Please don’t,” I said. “I’m not sure I could take it.” I took deep breaths. We hadn’t even gotten to the most horrible part, the hole in her chest.