#RRBC’S Back-To-School Book & Blog Block Party
Hello, and welcome to my stop on this fantastic tour. This post is coming to you from beautiful Tacoma, just a few short miles south of Seattle, in the great state of Washington.
Here we are, on the last day of the tour. I don’t know about you, but I’ve had so much fun visiting so many fantastic blogs and reading about all those books! I’ve also won a couple of awesome prizes, and that’s fun too.
Speaking of prizes, at this stop I’ll be giving away (1) signed paperback copy of Shadow of the Drill (USA residents only), (3) Kindle copies of Shadow of the Drill, (3) Kindle copies of A Perilous Thirst, (1) $10.00 Amazon Gift Card, and (2) $5.00 Amazon Gift Cards, for a total of 10 prizes. All you have to do is leave a comment at the end of this post and you’ll be entered to win. Good luck!
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A Perilous Thirst
In 1987, the AIDS crisis forces a gay vampire to make a few changes…
I have a unique hunger, as you now know. And with this unique hunger comes unique problems, though many are now more easily overcome. Finding partners is fairly simple these days, even for one of my preferences. You would be amazed at the veritable smorgasbord of succulent young gentleman found almost every night of the week in any leather bar. Or, maybe not. I am rather observant, and those are trooper’s boots beneath your jeans, are they not? And your key ring…most interesting. I must admit that I find the swing of your keys against your hip strangely exciting.
But in reference to the men who patronize those bars; I have found them to be audacious, daring to the point of abandon. They seek sensation at its maximum intensity, and the power, the unadulterated vivacity, that can be drawn from them at the absolute peak of rapture, is… Well, my friend, let me just say that it is ecstasy of the highest degree.
There is something about such men that draws me to them, forcing me to reach deep within myself to give them what they so fearlessly desire. You may think that it is only the physical hunger that compels me, but I tell you now that there is another need as well. One which is just as powerful, just as demanding, just as intense. The need of which I speak is emotion. That human attribute you so cheerfully take for granted, but which was lost to me on the eve of my transformation.
Please excuse me, but I did not hear your question clearly. The level of noise in this establishment at times precludes conversation. I believe that you asked if I was referring to love. Is that correct?
I think that I would have to say that the attributes of love, those exquisite yearnings to become one with another, is not what I am speaking of. Rather, the emotion itself. Any strong emotion, whether it be love, lust, exhilaration, even fear (although that particular morsel does tend to leave a mildly unpleasant ambiance behind) is capable of being transferred from my partner to myself during moments of intimacy. A high-calorie dessert, if you will. The chocolate truffles of the vampire’s feast.
You mentioned earlier that you find intimacy for the sake of physical pleasure alone to be unfulfilling. It is the same with me, from a slightly different perspective. To engage another simply to feed, is to deprive myself of the aforementioned truffle, resulting in an experience that I would describe as adequate, at best. Therefore, I tend to choose my partners based not on my attraction to them, but rather, their attraction to me. The more captivating they find me, the greater their response to my seduction. Which, in turn, leads to erotic adventures of a most extraordinary nature.
Grab a copy of this unique short story for only $0.99.
Shadow of the Drill is the first in a series of books about an unrepentant enforcer, d the violent life that he leads. Below is a passage form when Decker (the Drill) is in the midst of a showdown with his oldest enemy, who has the upper hand.
“Well,” Decker said, refusing to let his voice betray the fury that he was feeling. “If you’re gonna do it, best get to it.”
Trevor stared at him, mouth open and eyes honestly confused. “Are you for real? Man, I’m about to set your ass on fucking fire, and you’re telling me to go ahead and do it?” He shook his head in disbelief. “Buddy, ya ain’t right.”
“You want me to beg?” Decker snapped the question, his anger at his own inability to best the man – again – exploding onto his face. “Is that it? Is that what you want?” His shoulders squared against his bonds, and he somehow managed to appear almost regal. “As a rule, I never beg. But maybe I can make an exception for you.”
Staring directly at his would-be executioner, he gauged the distance between them, wondering if he dared to make a move just yet. “Let’s see,” he said softly as if trying to jog his memory. “Oh yeah . . . I remember now. It goes something like this.” Leaning back in the chair, he squinted his eyes tightly and began tossing his head from side to side.
“NO-O-O!” He screamed the word, his bruised throat screaming back in protest when he raised his voice. “I’m begging you – no more! You want money? I’ll get you money. I’ll get you anything you want – just please, no more!”
Opening his right eye, he curled his lips into a mocking smirk. “That’s how it was with them,” he said with undisguised contempt. “Your ‘boys’. They went out screaming. Pissin’ their pants and beggin’ me for mercy they were never gonna get.” He yawned, as if the whole thing was of no consequence. “They didn’t last very long. In fact, they -”
A blow to the face stopped him, and he tasted blood when his lower lip split. “What’s the matter, Trev?” The words were slurred through rapidly swelling lips, but his sarcasm came through perfectly. “Not a pretty picture?”
Trevor ignored him, retrieving his jacket from where he had tossed it earlier. As he lifted the garment, he spotted the Browning lying in the shadow of an empty packing crate. A cheerful grin brightened his face as he reclaimed the weapon and slipped it into the pocket of the jacket. He had owned the Browning for several years and was very fond of it. Losing it would have been a tragedy.
When he removed his hand from the folds of the jacket, it held a book of matches. Decker tensed, knowing that time was running short.
Can I wiggle out of this? His thoughts came without panic as he tested the strength of the ropes again. They were unyielding, so he let his exhausted mind bounce freely through his other options. I could let the fire burn through the ropes, he mused, but could I take it? I think I could, but how much damage would it do? And could I really hold my arms in the fire long enough to burn out of this? He thought for a moment longer, then put that idea on the shelf. There had to be another way.
In the meantime, Trevor had pulled three matches from the book, holding them in front of Decker’s face. “Burning’s gotta be the worst way to go,” he said pensively. “The smoke is thick . . . heavy. It fills your lungs and chokes out the air. Ya won’t even have the breath to scream when your skin starts to sizzle. And the heat! Oh, my god, the heat! You’ll feel the blood boilin’ in your veins until your skin splits like sausage in the pan.” An expression that was somewhat familiar to Decker crossed his face, bringing with it the scent of rain and a glimpse of Maria’s tearful eyes. “I wonder how long you’ll last. Will the smoke get ya first? Or will ya still be awake when you start to burn?”
Striking the first match, he held it for a moment before tossing it onto a table that bore dark splotches of gasoline. The wood flared brightly while Trevor watched the flame with fascination. “Look at it burn,” he whispered. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” He faced Decker again, striking another match. “Fire purifies. It purifies through destruction.” His eyes glittered in the glow of the tiny flame, and as he tossed the match into a pile of broken chairs, Decker caught a clearer look at the particular brand of psycho that he was dealing with.
Add this book to your library
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Rudy Valdez comes under attack when a rival club owner sets his sights on the Toybox without realizing that to take on Rudy is to take on the Drill. The bad guys are about to lern what “bad” really is.
If all goes as planned, Winter of the drill should be on Amazon’s virtual shelves by the end of October.
The headlights flashed into high beam and he tightened his hands on the wheel, bracing his shoulders against the back of the seat. “Ladies,” he said mildly, “put your belts on, please. We might have a problem.”
“What’s up?” Nikki asked while she obediently buckled herself in. Lena turned to hear Rudy’s reply, but then the other car was upon them and there was no time to talk.
Rudy studied the driver’s face while the sedan roared toward him in the other lane, watching the man’s shoulders shift just before the vehicle’s nose swung toward him. Swearing loudly, he pulled the wheel sharply to the left in an attempt to beat the other car to the bash.
The steering wheel bucked in his hands when the vehicles slammed together. The impact threw his body forward, wrenching his neck and back when the seatbelt locked and almost making him wish that his air bag had not been disabled. He could hear the girls screaming as they clung to each other in the back seat, and he shouted at them to keep their heads down.
There was no sound from Lena, and when he shot a glance in her direction he saw why. Her head lolled back against the headrest, eyes closed and mouth slightly open. Blood smeared the glass to her right, and Rudy knew that she needed medical help immediately.
“Damn,” he muttered, still fighting the wheel while the car shot out of the curve. He thought for a moment that he had it under control, but then the car that had been following slammed into his vehicle from behind.
“Hang on,” he yelled as loudly as he could, hoping that the two in the back could hear his voice over their own. “Here we go!”
The car slid, turning as the tires lost traction on the wet pavement. Rudy managed to keep all four wheels on the ground, reacting with cool precision when the back end fishtailed from one side to the other. He knew that the second car was still behind him, its driver no doubt waiting for a chance to ram him again. And though Rudy’s first choice would have been to face his pursuers, beating the other drivers at their own game, he had the girls to consider. Their presence in the car meant that a round of bumper cars on the narrow stretch of road was out of the question. Therefore, his only option was to hit the gas and hope that he was the better driver.
The lights in the mirror grew brighter, a second pair of eyes joining the first when the car that had passed him hung a U-turn and fell in behind the other. Seeing this, Rudy adjusted his seatbelt and squared his shoulders. A quick word to the girls in the back, and then a look of fierce determination settled onto his face. Eyes focused, right foot steadily pressing the gas pedal toward the floor, Rudy began to run.
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Thank you so much for stopping by on this last day of a fantastic tour.before you head out, please consider stopping by my Facebook page and giving it a like. http://goo.gl/UvY4YY Also, you can get the first three chapters of Shadow by joining my mailing list. http://goo.gl/mHOFcF Thanks again, and don’t forget to leave a comment so that you will be entered to win a prize.
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