!#RRBC Springtime Book and Block Party


Good morning, and welcome to my blog. I’m located in Tacoma, Washington, in the glorious Pacific Northwest.

I have some great prizes to give away, and all you have to do is leave a comment on this post for a chance to win one. The prizes on this stop are: (1) e-copy of Shadow of the Drill, (1) e-copy of A Perilous Thirst, (1) $10.00 Amazon gift card, and (2) $5.00 Amazon gift cards, for a total of 5 prizes. If you win one of my books and would rather read a different one, just let me know and I’ll be happy to send your choice.

I thought I’d try a different kind of post today, so I’m bringing you an interview with Gabrielle, the “author” of my newest release, One Dyke Cozy. I hope you enjoy it.

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RD – Thanks so much for agreeing to this interview, Gabrielle.

G – Thanks for asking me to do it. This is my first interview as an author, so it’s really exciting for me!

RD – What prompted you to write One Dyke Cozy?

G – I don’t really know. I think I just wanted to share a few memories of Shy. She was a major factor in my life for so many years, and I wrote some of it down in a notebook. I figured someone might read it after I was gone, at some point. But then I realized, it’s easy to put a book on Amazon now. So I decided to upload what I’d written, and maybe more people would read about Shy.

RD – What is your favorite chapter in the book?

G – The one about the prom. Shy was hilarious that night! Getting her into a dress was hard enough, but when she saw the thong, I thought she was gonna throw a gasket. And once we got there, and she and her date had a few drinks, they cut loose like there was no tomorrow! People were talking about them ’til the year ended. It was just crazy.

RD – If I remember correctly, you were eight years old when you met.

G – Yep. She moved in next door and it just went from there. We were best friends from day one.

RD – In the book, it didn’t sound like you had much in common.

G – No, not really. We were raised in very different households. My mother came from a “good” family and had some pretty definite ideas of how a girl should be raised. Plus, she was religious and that affected what I could or couldn’t do. Shy’s family was the complete opposite. She had pretty relaxed parents, and got away with murder, compared to me.

RD – Speaking of her parents, how did they feel about her being gay?

G – Well, they weren’t accepting, but they tolerated it. I think they thought it was a phase, and all she needed was to meet the right guy. Yeah, that was so gonna happen!

RD – I got the impression that Shy didn’t take life too seriously.

G – Not at all! She always said we had to find our fun where we could, and that’s exactly what she did. She was always getting us into stuff. Not trouble, so much as…stuff. She loved movies, and we used to go to the cinema, buy a ticket, and then spend the day sneaking into the other shows. We had to be kind of creative to not get caught, but that was Shy’s department. And she was good at it.

RD – The book implies that you drank a bit.

G – A bit? Let’s be real – we drank a lot! We were young, and her parents kept alcohol in the house. So we started drinking early, and it was just a thing. We cut back a lot in later years, but we definitely did drink.

RD — Why did the song The Dance affect you so strongly on your way to see Shy?

G — I’m not sure. The reference two dancing is a euphemism for the things we experience in our lives. In the song, his reference to dancing with the woman he loves is actually referring to the time he spent with her. He could have avoided the pain of loss by not being involved with her in the first place, but then he would have missed all of the wonderful things that happened during their time together. He would have missed the dance. The song brought home  to me everything that happened during my time with Shy. During our dance. And I realized, no matter how much it hurt losing her, I wouldn’t have traded it for anything. And it made me realize I had to break the promise I’d made to her during our last conversation. I had to do right by Mr. Happy.

RD – What can you tell us about Mr. Happy?

G – I’d rather not talk about him, if it’s okay. It’s just too hard, even after all these years. I know he’s part of the book, so I should be able to talk about him, but I just can’t. It took everything I had to write the book, and it was as hard to write about Mr. Happy as it was Shy. I know it must seem weird for me to talk about her and not him, but I’ve never really talked to anyone about him. I’ve had to talk about Shy, now and then, but I’ve never talked about him. Maybe keeping him private is why I can talk about her. I don’t know.

RD – It’s okay, I can understand that. What have you done in your life that you credit to Shy?

G – Pretty much everything. Let’s see, I didn’t marry young, and that’s a big thing. In my family, it’s what girls do. We get married by the time we’re eighteen and then let our husband take care of us. We don’t work, we’re active in church and the kids’ school, and we really don’t do anything for ourselves. I lived differently, and It’s because of Shy. My first husband was a total bad boy, and I never would’ve even considered him, if Shy hadn’t taught me to keep an open mind. Turned out, he was a loving, dedicated man who wanted a partner, not a possession. We opened a restaurant together, and ran it for several years until a stroke took him. I’m divorced from my second husband, and that wouldn’t have happened without Shy’s influence either. Women don’t get divorced in my family, and I’d have stayed ’til the bitter end. But I knew she’d have been on me to get out of the marriage and not care how it looked. To do what was right, and best, for me. So I did, and it was the best thing I could’ve done. Aside from that, I’ve travelled a bit, I sang in a rock band for a couple of years, I even spent a few summers hitch hiking across the country just for kicks and giggles. I wouldn’t have done any of it, if I hadn’t known Shy.

RD – I can tell she meant a great deal to you.

G – She was everything to me. She still is. Even now, I constantly hear her telling me to take a chance, to lighten up, to enjoy my life. To howl at the moon. And I do howl, every chance I get. I owe that to her.

RD – Thank you for stopping by today. Is there anything you’d like to say in closing?

G – Thanks for having me, it’s been awesome! Well, I hope people read my book. It seems we pass through life, and unless we do something amazing, no one remembers us. Not really. Shy didn’t impact the world in that kind of way. But she did impact me, and I want her to be remembered. Even if it’s by people who never knew her.

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Here is a little bit about my  books

People come into our lives for a day, a season, or a reason. Shy came into my life for a reason.


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Born of Circumstance, Bred for Revenge

On the bloodstained streets of a northwestern city, the enforcer known as the Drill stalks his prey.


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It’s 1987, and a gay vampire walks into a bar…

A different kind of short story.


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The bad guy is about to learn what “bad” really is.


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Thanks for joining me on day day at the Block Party. I hope you enjoyed your visit to my blog. There are a couple of other fantastic authors on tour today, and you can find them in the BLock Party line up by following this link: http://goo.gl/2dM3GO

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Contact Information

Twitter: @rhanidchae

Facebook Page: https://m.facebook.com/rhanidchaeauthor/

Email: rhanidchae@gmail.com



#RRBC Springtime Book and Blog Block Party!

This is an awesome post, and I just had to share.

Writing and Music

Welcome to the RAVE REVIEWS BOOK CLUB Springtime Book & Block Party!

This stop is being brought to you from Plano, Texas

What I’m giving away on this stop:

One (1) $5.00 Amazon Gift Card

One (1) $10.00 iTunes Gift Card

Two (2) Copies of Discovery – Poetry and Art eBook

Number of winners for this stop – Four (4)

For a Chance to win, please leave a comment on this post.

And, I’d be thrilled if you’d share it on Social Media.

I cannot tell you how excited I am to bring to you the Poetry and Art book, Discoveryin eBook format! 

First and foremost, I want to thank Jan Hawke for her hard work formatting the artwork and poems to convert to eBook. She did a phenomenal job. The clickable links in the Table of Contents take you directly to a specific poem or piece of…

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The Cozy Is Coming

Let’s get cozy


Many years ago I met a girl named Shylarynn, and I fell in love with the name. My current project, One Dyke Cozy, came from that name but I’m not exactly sure how.

The story revolves around two girls, Shy and Gabby, who meet at a very young age and immediately become best friends. It covers some of their more significant moments from grade school to Shy’s untimely death.

I have included the prologue for Cozy in this post, and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.

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    My mother used to say that people come into our lives for a day, a season, or a reason. For the most part, I’ve always found that statement to be true. There were exceptions, but most of the people who entered my life did fit predominantly into one of those three categories. 

   And then there was Shy. My best friend, my pseudo-sister, and the person who was by my side through thick, thin, and everything in between.

   I say was, because Shy’s been gone for quite a while. But her influence remains, and not a day goes by that I don’t hear her voice in my ear, guiding my steps as I meander through the years in search of some deep meaning for my life.

   Shy was with me for a season. A long season, though not nearly long enough. More importantly, she was with me for a reason. Had we never met, I truly believe that I would have lived, grown old and died as a carbon copy of my mother. I would have married my high-school sweetheart, popped out a couple of kids, and then spent the best years of my life as a stay-at-home mom. I would have been an excellent cook, an immaculate housekeeper, and I would have had no interests beyond the devoted care of my husband and children.

   At some point, I would have woken up and climbed out of a bed that my husband had not been home to sleep in. I would have looked in the mirror over the bathroom sink and seen a 40-something face from which beauty had long since vanished. Like my mother, I would have wept bitter tears and wondered what I could have done differently. What I could have done to prevent distance from growing between us and to keep his love with me, as he had promised in our vows. I would have been one more pathetically hopeful divorcee at the SeaTac Hilton, sipping martinis at the bar while hoping that some lonely businessman would take the empty stool to my right. 

   It’s even possible that I would have followed my mother a step further. Unable to bear what she considered a personal failure, she had gone to sleep one night with no intention of waking up. I don’t know where she got the pills, but it really doesn’t matter. What matters is that she had no life of her own and did not know how to find one. In that respect, she mirrored her own mother as much as I believe I would have mirrored her.

   Wise beyond her years, Shy saw my most likely future long before I did and made it her personal mission to send me in a different direction. It didn’t matter what direction, as long as it was different. She was a free spirit, what my mother had always called a wild child, and I willingly followed her from one adventure to another. I can’t begin to count the significant moments that we shared, but that’s probably because the number is uncountable.

   From the backyard swingset to a quiet room where I sat alone and watched the candles flicker, Shy was always close at hand. We were joined at the hip, and neither one of us wanted it to be any other way.

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Thank you so much for stopping by my blog today. I’m hoping to be back on Wednesday, but if I don’t make it, I’ll be here on Sunday for sure. I’ve read a couple of fantastic books, and I”d like to tell you about them. 

Contact Information

Twitter: @rhanidchae


Facebook Page: https://m.facebook.com/rhanidchaeauthor/

Email: rhanidchae@gmail.com

Book Info

Shadow of the Drill

Born of Circumstance, Bred for Revenge.


A Perilous Thirst

A different kind of vampire story.

An Amazonian-Sized Problem

This post will be of interest to Amazon authors, but also to anyone who reviews books on that platform.

Story Empire

Hi, SEers! Happy Wednesday.

reviewsI wrote a post on my own blog recently about Amazon and reviews. If you’d like to read it, you can find it here.  That post was the inspiration for this one.

There are nine categories on the Amazon Community Guidelines page that dictate the rules for reviewing books (or anything else, I suppose). Some are just common sense. Others pose some problems.

For example, one of the categories is Eligibility. You must have spent $50 on Amazon before you are allowed to review a product.

  • What about people who don’t have an account or have just opened one? (And before you laugh at the absurdity of that statement, you should know I know people who have family members buy things for them on Amazon because they don’t want to enter credit card information online.)
  • What about teenagers who read the YA books their…

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Please Welcome Karen Ingalls – Author and RWISA member

 I am so pleased to host Karen Ingalls at my blog today. Karen is a member of both Rave Reviews Book Club and Rave Writers International Society of Authors. RWISA is an exclusive branch of #RRBC, and some of the very best Indie authors can be found on its virtual shelves.

Karen Ingalls is one of those authors, and I hope you enjoy the following interview.

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  • How long have you been writing?

I began writing as a preteen journaling, writing short stories and poetry.

  • How many books have you authored? Please give us up to 3 titles?

Outshine: An Ovarian Cancer Memoir

Novy’s Son, The Selfish Genius

Davida: Model & Mistress of Augustus Saint-Gaudens

  • Do you have a writing schedule?

No, I do not. I think it would be good for me and be better time management.

  • You’re a member of RAVE WRITERS – INTERNATIONAL SOCIETY OF AUTHORS (RWISA). Why do you think you were accepted into this exclusive group?

I was and am quite honored and surprised that I am a member. I believe my style and quality of work is the type of writing that RWISA looks for. My many thanks for the recognition and honor.

  • Modesty aside, what separates your writing from the millions of other writers in the world?

I write about subjects of which I am passionate about. Social issues such as health related and family dynamics are my primary topics.

  • If you could spend a day picking the brain of one author, who would that be? Why?

There are so many authors who I admire and love to read their books. Picking just one I would say Mitch Albom. I like the subject matter which is primarily spirituality that is in all his books. His style is simplistic and yet very deep. He also appears to be humble and approachable.

  • Are you a die-hard INDIE writer who loves having complete control of your work, or, if you were offered a publishing contract today, would you sign on the dotted line?

If the publishing company would take away a lot of the burden of marketing, then I would give it serious consideration. Yet, on the other side, I would not to lose my control of my work.

  • As an author, where do you see yourself in 5 years?

In five years, I would like to have completed the 8 short stories I am writing for my 8 grandchildren. Each story will let them know more about their Oma. And, I hope to have two more books published which are residing in my brain and heart patiently waiting for me to put the words on paper. In 5 years I also plan to be sitting in the same office overlooking beautiful Lake Dora here in Florida.

  • What is the ONE tool that has been the most beneficial tool in the marketing of your books?

I would have to say that RRBC has put me in contact with some very amazing people who have encouraged and supported me. I have learned how to use Twitter, FB, and my blogs more effectively.

  • Name one writer that you know of, member or non-member of RRBC, who you feel should be added to the RWISA Roster of elite members? Why?

Michael Lynes. His book is outstanding and I look forward to reading more from him.

  • What is the one piece of advice that you could share that would be most valuable for those aspiring to not only be writers, but those aspiring to be great writers?

Follow your dream! Do not let naysayers or your self-doubt stop you. Also, I think it is good to talk to other authors and learn from their experiences.

  • Do you believe that writers who churn out several books a year are really putting out quality work?

I have not found that authors who write many books in a year have the same quality and depth to their work. At least, I have not found any such authors.

  • If you had promised your fans a book by a certain date only to find that your book wasn’t the best it could be, would you go ahead and publish your book just to meet that self-imposed deadline and deliver as promised, or, would you disappoint your fans and shelve the book until it was absolutely ready? No matter your reason, please explain why?

I would not publish a book until I knew it was ready. My fans would understand and would want and expect only the best from me. The book is coming from a deep part of me and therefore I would hope that my fans would appreciate my quality of work even if it missed the promised deadline.

  • In your opinion, what makes a book “a great book?”

For me a book must have depth and inform or challenge me in my thoughts about life’s issues. The plot must be believable and the characters strong. I do not like “fluff.”

  • If you received a review of your book which stated that there were editing & proofing “issues,” what’s the first thing you would do? And the second?

First I would be shocked to receive such a review. I have a highly qualified editor who has done all three of my books. I would go to her and we would sort out if there are any editing/proofing issues. If not, I would then contact the reviewer to further understand and hopefully resolve the concern.


                As a young girl and now as a mature adult, I write from my heart. When I began journaling as a pre-teen I wrote about my unanswered questions, fears, doubts, and dreams. That process continued throughout the next seventy some years resulting in three published books and several articles.

I write about subjects for which I feel passionate. As a preteen growing up in a dysfunctional home I wrote about the heavy drinking, abuse, and abandonment I feared would happen. Expressing my emotions and dreaming what life could be like helped me to formulate my goals and hopes. Unconsciously I created the person I wanted to be which was different from my two primary role models.


I became a holistic nurse and developed my own practice as a nurse therapist. My writings were now newsletters and articles based on health/wellness and spirituality.  I was fulfilling the dream of helping people to become healthier physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

My first published book was definitely written from my heart. It started out as a journal about my experiences when diagnosed with cancer. It soon became a book, which has touched the hearts of men and women facing cancer or other difficult challenges.

The two novels I have had published are about family dynamics, which are very important influences as to the type of adults we become. The loss of the “Iron John” in the relationship between fathers and sons is quite evident in many families. Men must know how to raise their sons showing and teaching them unconditional love and respect.

When one writes from the heart, the author is in touch with those things of which he/she is passionate about. It comes from the deepest part of ourselves…our soul.

Add Karen’s books to your library 

Outshine: An Ovarian Cancer Memoir – http://goo.gl/bg0CpF

Novy’s Son: The Selfish Genius – http://goo.gl/9r78rg

Davida: Model and Mistress of Augustus Saint-Gaudens – http://goo.gl/nIzrKX

Social Media

Twitter: @KIngallsAuthor

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Karen-Ingalls/1473379352893458 (goo.gl/mgK8xW)



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Thank you for supporting our RWISA (RAVE WRITERS-INTERNATIONAL SOCIETY OF AUTHORS) Members!  Please follow and support the entire tour by visiting 4WillsPub.


The Cozy Is Coming

Below is the first chapter of my work-in-progress, One Dyke Cozy. I would love any feedback that you want to give.                                                 * * *

   We think of time differently depending on where we are in our life. When we’re ten, it’s almost impossible to imagine being forty, let alone twice that. The years stretch before us like a lazy summer’s day. No hurry, no responsibilities, nothing but wonderful, endless time.

   Even reaching the milestones of eighteen and twenty-one doesn’t register on our radar all that much. Sure, we’re adults now, but we’re still young, and the years have yet to touch us with any degree of harshness. 

   There is no set time when reality hits. It’s different for everyone, and some people are close to the end of the line when it happens. But at some point, we wake up and realize that we are middle-aged, and there is still so much left to do. So many of those childhood dreams are unfulfilled, but now we’re tied down with the various ropes that make up our everyday lives. Those little things that were so insignificant ten or fifteen years ago, but now have become insurmountable barriers that stand between us and everything yet undone.

   It’s at this point that we may take a brutally honest look at our life, weighing our incompletions against the time that we feel remains. And it’s then that we often pray for more. More time to make green the seeds we planted in our youth. All of those dreams that we once knew would blossom into reality because we had so much time ahead of us to make it happen.

   Most people ask for years, and they are the lucky ones. Lucky because they know that nothing but time stands between them and the achievement of their goals. They know that there are steps to take, and that those steps won’t happen overnight, but they are confident that they will succeed. All they need is a few more years.

   However, there are many of us for whom the concept of years has become as much a fairy tale as Cinderella’s glass slipper. Perhaps we are ill, and our doctors have gently told us to say our goodbyes and take what enjoyment we can from the days ahead. Perhaps we are simply old, with so much road behind us that we cannot see more than a block or two ahead.

   Whatever the case, we do not ask for more years. We simply ask for more. More time, in any denomination, is all that we want. A few more weeks, another month, even one more day. Just…one more day. 

   Amazing things can happen in a day. Medical Science may discover an uber cure for everything that currently ails modern man. Some technological genius could put the finishing touches on permanently young android bodies, so perfectly made the even the people inhabiting them could not tell the difference. Or maybe the Lord would call his children home, sparing us the trauma of having to die at all. So many miracles are just within reach and maybe only a day or two away. Someone once told me that the tragedy is not to die, but to die too soon.

   You may be wondering why I included myself in the group for whom each moment is a gift, and maybe I’ll write about that at some point. But that’s not what this story is about. This is my chance to tell you about the person who had the greatest impact on my life, and who was largely responsible for the person that I became: my best friend, Shy.

Through Shy I learned some of the most important lessons of my life. She taught me to fight like a champion, love like a poet, and live like it was my last day on Earth.

   So please sit back, get comfortable, and spend a few minutes bouncing through the years with Shy, and the one dyke cozy.                                                                                                      * * * 

   I hope that you enjoyed taking a peek at #Cozy. If all goes well, it should be on Amazon’s virtual shelves somewhere around the first of March. 

   Thank you so much for stopping by my blog. I apologize for being gone so long, but sometimes, life gets worky. I’ll be back next week with another post, and hopefully I’ll be able to stay on track. I appreciate your patience, and your understanding.


#RRBC’S Back-To-School Book & Blog Block Party


Blog Party 1


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.


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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


* * *


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.

* * *

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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