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Posts tagged ‘#TeaserTrain’

#TeaserTrain: A teaser from Ashley Barron’s upcoming novel “Ava”

Happy Thursday everyone and welcome to another #TeaserTrain treat! Ashley Barron’s debut novel “Ava” will be available in just a few short weeks. Watch for its’ release and the meantime, have a little taste. For more of Ashley, visit her on her blog at http://blog.thepriyas.com/

From ‘Ava’, a romantic thriller set, coming May 2012

 Chapter Four, Opening Scene

Returning to her apartment and finding it empty wasn’t depressing. Returning to her apartment and knowing it would be empty? Now that was depressing.

Ava flipped on the lights, walked into the silence, and broke it the same way she always did, by calling out, “Hello!  I’m home!”

She did it knowing no one was waiting to greet her.

After Kader’s surprise appearance at the Thornton Museum earlier this evening, she half expected to find him settled comfortably on her sofa with his bow tie hanging loose, a splash of bourbon in crystal, and sports on the television.

But she didn’t.

The morning’s mess remained in the same spot, sadly, because no helpful and loving hands had magically swept it away before she arrived home. The air, undisturbed since morning, was so still she could practically write her name in it with her finger.

Sometimes that stillness was worse than the silence.

At least with silence you could turn on the radio or the TV. But this air, it carried no scents from a surprise romantic dinner to tempt her as she set down her purse and flipped through the mail. It carried no whiff of Kader’s cologne to tickle her nose as he pressed his warm lips eagerly against hers.

She had no one but herself to blame.

Ava could have moved on, could have let go. She had dated dozens of men since Kader left her. Dated each one right up to the point where he wanted more than meals, conversation, and casual fun. Right up to the point where he wanted access to the private areas of her mind and body.

Ava had contemplated taking those steps, becoming serious, intertwining her life with a new man. She would convince herself, or try to, anyway, that there was another one out there for her. Lots of fish in the sea, and all that.

Nothing worked.

Unlike her mind, her heart did not adhere to the principles of organization and logic. It repeatedly refused to acknowledge timelines or schedules. And it had no pride.

In other words, Ava wasn’t over Kader. And everyone in town knew it.

In contrast to the modern philosophy of moving on swiftly after heartbreak, Ava had ventured far enough into the dating world to reap the benefits of a full schedule, but not far enough to pull her emotions back out of cold storage.

And certainly not far enough to bother fitting the pieces of her heart back together. Could it even be done? She wasn’t certain.

For three long, lonely years there had been no dirty clothes dropped on the closet floor, and no damp towels draped carelessly over the clean, dry ones in the bathroom. There had been no debate over whose turn it was to shop, or cook, or clean. There had been no flipping of a coin to decide if the television should tune into sports or chick stuff. There had been no agreements brokered for which family got Thanksgiving and which one got Christmas—Ava showed up at the Arden table alone.

Worst of all, there were no sweet kisses to make things better on days when life had scraped off a few extra layers of skin.

Over the last year, she’d begun to fill the void with late night takeout and an extra glass of red wine. Both were pretty good indicators of where those unnecessary pounds she was carrying around had come from.

As she peeled off her suit, Ava blocked out thoughts of Kader—well, tried—and reflected on tonight’s high profile event. Despite the rocky start, and Adair’s disappearing act, the evening had been a monumental success, one that would earn Ava’s company a well-deserved increase in business.

Extravagant Events was even going to get a little press out of it. A reporter had been in attendance from the highly regarded Potomac Prestige online magazine, and had requested to set up an interview and photo shoot with Ava.

To top things off, at the end of the night, Doug Crestil, the client, had smoothly tipped Ava a whopping fifty thousand dollars in cash. Ava had accepted the money without hesitation and, as was customary in these situations, would divide it up equally between members of her team.

But Ava wasn’t naive enough to believe Doug and Natasha Crestil, overwhelmed by her meeting planning talents, were rewarding the months of hard work and planning that had gone into tonight.

It was far more likely that the money was intended to grease the wheels for an as-yet-unnamed favor. That was business as usual in Washington, and, judging from the amount of the tip, she knew it would be a very large favor.

Too bad for them they’d picked the wrong player.

Excerpt from ‘Ava’ Copyright © 2012 by Ashley Barron. All rights reserved.

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#TeaserTrain : Teaser from “Wyndano’s Cloak” by A.R. Silverberry

       

I am delighted to be hosting A.R. Silverberry on my blog for #TeaserTrain. His novel “Wyndano’s Cloak” is the sort of enchanting fantasy story I loved to read as a preteen. It is recommended for young readers ages 10 and up. I have purchased this book and am looking forward to sharing it with my kids. It is the kind of story that is just as much fun for me to read as it is for my children to listen to. Please enjoy this excerpt and consider sharing this adventure with your young readers.

Alert, Jen backed away from the tree and studied it at a crouch. The air was still. The grass motionless. But the leaves stirred and fluttered. Words floated down. At first they were indistinct, as if someone called through a distant snowstorm. One word emerged clearly, and an icy finger traced down her spine.

She heard her name.

She backed away until she squatted on some rocks that extended into the pool. Every muscle—sun-hammered and wind-hardened like metal in a forge—was poised to spring. Phrases whispered down. The only sense she could make was that something was coming. Something dangerous.

She thought of her family. Fear tightened around her heart. She was a hair’s-breadth away from running to them. Her feet stayed rooted to the spot. Maybe she’d hear more.

A small splash made her look at the pond. Two more followed, as if someone had thrown pebbles. Nothing had fallen into the water. But ripples spread out and ran into each other. More splashes erupted like tiny volcanoes, until the whole pool was agitated with colliding rings. A circle of calm emerged below Jen’s feet, pushing the waves back. Pale and ghostly, a face rose from the muddy bottom of the pool until it floated just below the surface. Little hills and valleys lined the features of an old woman, as if olives lay under the skin.

“Medlara.” Jen spoke under her breath, unwilling to believe her friend could hear her.

Medlara smiled, but her expression hardened. Words whispered from the pool. Jen leaned forward, straining to hear. She got little more than fragments, as if a storyteller jumbled the pieces of a tale. One phrase repeated, like a riddle. “If you meet . . . a harp, you must . . . If the worst happens, seek the answers—”

Jen dropped to her knees, hoping to catch more. Medlara’s hands appeared just below her chin. She clasped them, and lifted her eyes as if she were imploring Jen. She mouthed two words. They might have been, “Forgive me.”

Streaks of blue snaked and flowered in the water, as if someone had dropped in dye. Tendrils of mist rose from the surface and licked the ring of rocks. Soon the whole pool was covered. Spilling over the edge, the cloudy vapor surrounded Jen. She backed onto the shore, but the stuff sprouted up on all sides, walling her in, and formed a ceiling above. It crept along the ground until it met her feet. There it paused like an undulating sea.

Jen studied the mist. “She’s trying to show me something. But what?”

There was no time to wonder. Fog rose before her like a giant shadow. Black. Forbidding . . .

She stepped back. Looked behind for an escape route. The fog surged forward and pulled her into the inky darkness. She could no longer feel the ground, as if everything solid and beautiful that she cared about was being ripped away. She tried to scream but terror rose from the pit of her stomach and froze in her throat.

The rest was a dizzy kaleidoscope of tilting and falling, of wandering lost, with no way out, no way home, no way back to a world of light and love, until the mist melted away and she collapsed, shaking in a pool of sweat.

Purchase this novel here: http://www.amazon.com/Wyndanos-Cloak-ebook/dp/B005CYYI6G/ref%3dtmm_kin_title_0?ie=UTF8&m=AG56TWVU5XWC2

Pioneer Teaser from my novel on #TeaserTrain

My novel “The One That Got Away” is being featured on #TeaserTrain again this week. You may know that in a nutshell, my novel is a reincarnation story. It does, however, have a few more twists thrown in that make the reader realize that reincarnation is only a part of the painting on a much larger canvas. The teaser that is showcased this week is from what I refer to as the Pioneer lifetime and can be found on A.R. Silverberry’s blog: http://www.arsilverberry.com/the-one-that-got-away-teaser-train-excerpt .

The modern day narrator of the story is a cynical, single mother named Wendy who doesn’t have the time or interest to be concerned with something as ridiculous as reincarnation. She is forced to. She becomes exposed to three previous lifetimes and some other odd occurrences that cause her to question the very structure of life and it’s purpose. The following are the  excerpts that give you a taste of each of Wendy’s previous lives. It will make you wonder how they could possibly be connected. Of course, I would highly recommend that you read my novel to see if you can put the pieces together before she does. 🙂

Roese http://sharonbuchbinder.com/blog/2011/12/28/kellianne-sweeney-author-of-the-one-that-got-away/

Alice http://www.arsilverberry.com/the-one-that-got-away-teaser-train-excerpt

Meg http://www.carriegreenbooks.com/1/post/2011/11/a-titanic-teaser-by-kellianne-sweeney.html

Amazon Link for “The One That Got Away”  http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_i_0_17?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=kellianne+sweeney&sprefix=kellianne+sweeney

 

#TeaserTrain: Ashes to Ashes by Howard Hopkins

       

 

I am pleased to be hosting a teaser from Howard Hopkins for #TeaserTrain. All of our #TeaserTrain members will be hosting Howard today as a tribute to this late, great author. This teaser is from the Chloe Everson series, fondly touted as burlesque meets the X-Files. Please enjoy:

 

My name is Chloe Everson. I’m blonde, 5’6” and, um, thirty-something. Oh, and please don’t judge me, but I’m also a stripper at the Red Lagoon, at least I was until a few weeks ago before…well, that’s a story I can get into later. Most of the other girls call them­selves exotic dancers, like it makes taking off your clothes in front of a bunch of drunken idiots classier somehow. But I am a stripper. There’s an art to it, like those burlesque girls in the old days.

I never had a lot of control over what happened in my life. In fact, most of the time I just felt like everything was sweeping me along in a rush of black water. But stripping gives me some sense of control. I know exactly what I am doing and what I can make my audience do. Anyone who gets out of line, well, Arly takes care of them.

And I know what you’re thinking: I’m one of “those” girls. Well, I’m not. It goes no farther than the dancing and never has. I have never crossed that line and I wouldn’t. I just spend a lot of time naked and I don’t mind that. Guys don’t seem to mind, either, but it’s strictly look, don’t touch.

I hope what I’ve told you won’t make you think less of me. I ended up on my own early, and had to survive somehow. I had no real skills other than dancing and I made enough money to give me some sense of power over the things in my life I might not have had otherwise.

I’ve been through a lot over the past few months, especially back around Christmas when that whole Sisters of the Snake thing was go­ing on. You can read about that in GRIMM. It’s now a matter of re­cord since Arly decided to hire that author to report the things we’ve seen and experienced. I mean, who would believe it if we didn’t make sure the public was able to read about it? Arly didn’t even believe in the supernatural before Angelique Ficatier and her witches came into our lives.

Me, I just write things down in my journal. I’m doing that now, sit­ting here in my condo, with the boxes I’ve packed piled all around me (I had plans, you know, ones that now…) I was hoping maybe someday I would be able to show it to my children, let them see what a fire­cracker their mother was in her day. Sounds silly, doesn’t it? Like one of those old movies I like to watch. The kind where the heroes always win and the guy gets the girl and everything turns out happily ever af­ter.

But life is not always like that and I’m afraid maybe this time I’ve lost again, lost someone who means more to me than anything in the world. I’ve lost a lot in my life. My parents were killed when I was seven and I was sent to various foster homes. My sister…I lost her, too. I haven’t been able to find her since the day I saw a couple drive off with her and leave me behind. Arly was helping me look for her, but I already tried everything I could think of. Still, I cling to a little hope that someday…

Well, anyway, I guess that’s enough about me for now, because what’s more important is that I am worried. Sorry, no, I’m not just worried. I’m scared out of my wits. Because after what happened with the Sisters of the Snake I know there are things in this world that crawl out of the darkness and into our lives. Terrible things. Inhuman things. And I’m afraid something like that has happened again. To Arly.

He disappeared about a week ago. I’ve been looking everywhere, trying everything I could think of. But I’m not the detective. Arly is. He’s the one who knows how to find people. I talked to his friend, Detective Sturdevant, about it and he’s helping but hasn’t come up with any leads yet. I can tell he’s worried too, because before Angelique Ficatier he didn’t believe in any of that ghost and demon stuff, either. I think he does now, but he’s afraid to admit it. I can’t say I blame him.

Oh, dammit, it’s starting to rain. I can see the water streaking down the slider doors that lead to the patio. I hate rain. It just makes every­thing more depressing right now. Makes me more afraid and more lonely and I feel like I’m just going to come apart if I don’t do some­thing, find some clue to what happened to him.

Even though it’s raining I am thinking of driving over to Arly’s cottage to look around. I’ve been there already a few times and found nothing, but just being in his house makes me feel a little bit closer to him, so maybe I’ll try again.

What else can I do?

Book link: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B004WLCRYK

Additional Books from Howard: http://www.amazon.com/Howard-Hopkins/e/B002BM64IW/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0

 

 

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