Rogue's Angels Present: Portraits of the Dead by John Nicholls

Please welcome John Nicholls author of Portraits of the Dead.

One randomly chosen winner via rafflecopter will win a $50 Amazon/BN.com gift card.

Portraits of the Dead

by John Nicholls

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GENRE: Psychological Thriller

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BLURB:

Emma didn’t know how long he hid, silent and unmoving, in the large Victorian wardrobe to the side of her single bed. She didn’t know how long he peered out, salivating and drooling, between the two heavy dark oak doors, and watched, mesmerised, as she slowly drifted into fitful sleep. She didn't know what time he pushed the doors open and crept towards her in the drab grey darkness of the night.

Detective Inspector Gravel finds himself floundering when a local nineteen-year-old university student is abducted and imprisoned by a sadistic serial killer, who has already tortured and killed five young women.

A gripping page-turner of a serial killer thriller packed with suspense. If you like Rachel Abbott, Robert Bryndza and Karin Slaughter, discover John Nicholl’s chilling new thriller today.

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EXCERPTS:

Chapter 1

2:20 A.M. Saturday, 2 May 1998

Emma didn’t know how long he hid, silent and unmoving, in the large Victorian wardrobe to the side of her single bed. She didn’t know how long he peered, salivating and drooling, between the two heavy dark oak doors and watched, mesmerised, as she slowly drifted into fitful sleep. She didn’t know what time he pushed the doors open and crept towards her in the drab grey darkness of the night. But he did. She knew that he did.

 

Emma woke with a start, tense, alert, and opened her bleary eyes, telling herself insistently that the dark silhouette slowly approaching her was the nightmare construct of her subconscious mind. But initial anxiety became blind panic as the inky shadow took on an obvious human form that suddenly gained pace and loomed over her. And then a hand, a large hot clammy hand, pulled the bedclothes over her head, clamped her mouth tight shut and silenced her scream before it materialised.

 

A myriad unwelcome thoughts invaded her troubled mind as he pinned her head to the pillow and raised his free arm high above his head, before closing his fingers tightly, forming his hand into a formidable weapon and bringing it crashing down, again and again and again, with all the force he could muster, rendering her unconscious and bleeding.

 

She didn’t know how long she remained senseless, or what he did to her while she slept. She didn’t know what time he lifted her from her bed and carried her from her student bedroom, down the creaking wooden staircase and out into the Welsh city street. But he did. She knew that he did.

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AUTHOR Bio and Links:

John Nicholl, an ex-police officer, child protection social worker, manager and lecturer, has written three dark psychological suspense thrillers, each of which are Amazon international bestsellers, reaching # 1 in multiple categories in the United Kingdom, France, Spain, Australia, Canada and the USA. John is always happy to hear from readers, bloggers or anyone interested in proposing a joint creative project. He can be contacted via his author website at:

http://www.johnnicholl.com

https://www.facebook.com/john.nicholl.988

https://twitter.com/nicholl06

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/13795294.John_Nicholl

Buy Link: https://www.amazon.com/Portraits-Dead-John-Nicholl/dp/1786972670/

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GIVEAWAY INFORMATION and RAFFLECOPTER CODE

One randomly chosen winner via rafflecopter will win a $50 Amazon/BN.com gift card.

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/28e4345f1957

I WANT TO HAVE THE HEART OF A DOG

I WANT TO HAVE THE HEART OF A DOG

by Genie Gabriel (www.GenieGabriel.com)

BUY now! 

(Digital or print)

SOME OF THE BEST DOGS COME FROM THE SHELTER

In honor of Adopt-a-Shelter-Dog Month during October, I am sharing a few of my shelter dog stories.

Excerpts from I Want to Have the Heart of a Dog

by Genie Gabriel (www.GenieGabriel.com)

BUY now! 

(Digital or print)

ACE

Ace was my first shelter dog. A Border Collie mix with golden eyes that mesmerized me, and I knew instantly he was smarter than most people. He convinced me some of the best dogs come from the shelter. I got that lesson instantly–most dogs are in shelters or on the streets because of human actions, not their own. The so-called issues that landed my adopted dogs in the shelter have not been problems for me.

For instance, one of the conditions of adopting Ace was he be neutered within seventy-two hours or we would forfeit the extra deposit we made when we adopted him. Seems he had a price on his head at the dog control office because he had run away several times from his previous owners. We didn’t have any problems with him running. In fact, one day he broke the glass in our old, single-paned front door when the mailman came. The neighbors called me at work and I hurried home. Ace was laying on the front porch and greeted me with a grin and the question, “When’s dinner?”

SOPHIE

The first time I saw her, she was laying in deathly stillness in one of the stray kennels. A big, black dog and I was in love again…Though I didn’t know it at the time…she was mourning as well as having a massive bladder-and-more infection. When I heard her story and learned she was considered unadoptable because she was twelve years old and incontinent, I stated, “Well, I’ll adopt her.” …Staff cautioned me this would probably be for hospice…The first evening, she proudly TROTTED down the sidewalk. This “hospice” dog and I had three years together.

RASCAL

[Rascal] had three paws in the euthanasia room when I asked the kennel manager to give me a few days with him…Though he got along well with my other dogs, he was terrified of most everything, and it was obvious he had been abused…My beautiful Stewart was Rascal’s therapist. Whenever Raz panicked and started biting at everything, Stewart stood over him and put him in a gentle headlock until Raz realized he was safe and no one was hurting him. When Raz calmed down, Stewart released him…[Rascal] has been with me and my herd for many years now, and he still sleeps on my pillow.

Until I Met You

Cliffhanger from Until I Met You.

            Jessica starred transfixed as she stared at the photograph. Although she didn’t need to, Jessica glanced at the caption below, shaking her head in disbelief, “J.T. and me on the Fourth of July.” From the appearance of the picture, Tyler knew Grant for years. Propping her elbows on the desk, Jessica held her head in her hands. The man she’d grown to love was the man she’d been looking for.  She had thought she could trust him, and all this time he’d been lying to her. Why did he lie? What did he plan to gain by pretending to be someone else? Tyler was just like all the other men in her life.

            A small sob sounded in her throat. Jessie thought he was the one man she could trust. She should have known better. The men in her life were never trustworthy. Some things never change.

            She’d heard him say goodnight to Wyatt and close his bedroom door.

            “Tyler.” Her voice sounded more like a plea than merely calling his name.

            When he walked into the office her eyes widened beseeching him. “Thanks, J. T.”

            He glanced at the laptop and nodded. “Yes, that’s me.” His voice sounded heavy with regret. No he sounded relieved.

            Tyler or J. T. or whoever he was stopped two feet from her side. Standing Jessica faced him.

            “Jessica?” He reached a hand out to her. When she ignored his gesture he lowered his hand.

            “Please let me explain.” Again he extended his hand to her.

            She tried not to hear the anguish in Tyler’s voice. “Why?”

            “Let’s sit down.” He placed his hand on her elbow.

            Not wanting to feel the warmth of his touch or his kindness, Jessica jerked her arm away from him. “Don’t touch me.”

            He gave her a cut nod then followed her to the living room. She sat on the couch, her back stiff and straight. Jessica guarded her emotions. Tyler sat beside her, turning to face her.

            “My life turned around when Grant’s family took me in as a foster child. For the first time, I found a family who loved me. I was a little guy who was always picked on and Grant watched over me.”

            “I know, but that doesn’t explain why you lied to me.” Jessica worked her hands in her lap.

            “I didn’t find out Grant died until after I’d completed my special ops. I received an email from his little sister, another child the Markham’s took in. She explained what happened and that you were taking care of Wyatt. I promised Grant I’d watch other Wyatt if anything happened to him. When I make a promise, I keep it no matter what. When I returned home, I needed to find out who was caring for his child.

            “In the service, I learned to know your opponent before you strategize. Once I got to know you I saw how good you were with Wyatt. It was evident he loves you. I fell in love with you too.”

            Jessica flinched when he referred to her as his opposition. “So you got to know me yet you still didn’t have the decency to tell me who you are. You let me believe you were Tyler Brown.” She swallowed quickly before the emotions tightened her throat. “We made love and you still didn’t bother to explain.”

            “I tried to tell you several times. My name is Justin Tyler Reynolds. I was named after my wonderful father.” Heaving a sigh, Tyler leaned forward and rested his arms on his legs. “He’d come home drunk and beat up my mom. One night he beat her so bad she died before she got to the hospital. I was twelve at the time and swore I’d never used his name again. From then on I went by J. T.”

            His voice was unusually monotone and devoid of all feeling. This wasn’t the fun loving man she knew. Jessica wanted to reach out and comfort him, but the thought of his deceit stopped her. 

www.rosemaryindra.com

Inspiration or noise?

When I first started writing, I listened to various music artists depending on my story and my mood. At that time my stories needed coaxing to come out and allow me to put them on the computer.

Now, I can't get my characters to leave me alone. Music is just a background distraction. I have plenty of those without adding another.

What is your take on the issue? Do you music or not?

Sable Angel

Quiet end of summer

FALL IS HERE

The day before Autumn, here in the Northwest, we had ninety degree heat. I guess summer wasn't quite ready to give up.

The ironic thing about all of this is the best time in Oregon, as far as I'm concerned, is what we call Indian Summer. The days are warm and lightly cloudy and evenings oft times include light sprinkles and temperatures in the low fifties. I find it most conducive to writing. I can brew up a cup of hot chocolate, wrap my hands around the warm cup and, somehow, the creative juices just start to flow.

I hope all of you take the time to bask in whatever season you are experiencing in your portion of the world. Try to capture what you are seeing and smelling in one of your scenes. After all, if you don't like this season, wait three months and it will change!

Sable Angel

ROGUE'S ANGELS PRESENT: RESTHAVEN BY ERIK THERME

Please welcome Erik Therme author of Resthaven.

Erik Therme will be awarding a $25 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

Resthaven

by Erik Therme

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GENRE: YA suspense

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BLURB:

The last thing Kaylee wants to do is participate in a childish scavenger hunt—especially inside the abandoned retirement home on the edge of town. When she finds a bruised, deaf boy hiding inside one of the rooms, she vows to lead him to safety . . . only to discover the front doors are now padlocked, and her friends are nowhere to be found. Kaylee is about to learn that not everything that goes ‘bump in the night’ is imaginary, and sometimes there are worse things to fear than ghosts.

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EXCERPT:

Listen.

That’s my father’s favorite word. I’m pretty sure that’s why he left my mother and me: we never listened. What does he expect? My mother hides behind a computer sixty hours a week, and I’m only fifteen. It’s not in our nature to listen. Case in point: I think my mother just asked a question I didn’t catch—which is bad—because she hates repeating herself almost as much as I do. My best defense is to keep staring out the car window, pretending I didn’t hear.

“Well?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I said, “I get it. You hate me.”

“Kaylee, I don’t hate you. And we both know you brought this on yourself.”

“Me? How is this my fault? I haven’t done anything—”

“Exactly. It’s been three weeks since we moved here, and in that time you’ve made zero effort to make friends or leave the apartment. If it wasn’t for Anna, you wouldn’t do anything but come home from school and sulk in your room.”

I slunk down further in the passenger seat. “Yeah, and if it wasn’t for Anna I wouldn’t even be here right now.”

“Well, I think it was very generous of these girls to invite you over tonight, so at least try and make an effort. It’s only for a few hours.”

I scowled out my window, knowing it was pointless to argue. Once my mother made up her mind it took an act of God, or an argument with my father, to change it.

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AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Erik Therme has thrashed in garage bands, inadvertently harbored runaways, and met Darth Vader. When he’s not at his computer, he can be found cheering for his oldest daughter’s volleyball team, or chilling on the PlayStation 4 with his thirteen-year-old. He currently resides in Iowa City, Iowa—one of only seven places in the world UNESCO has certified as a City of Literature.

Website

https://www.eriktherme.com

Facebook

https://www.facebook.com/erik.therme

Twitter

https://twitter.com/ErikTherme

Goodreads

https://www.goodreads.com/author/list/7831573.Erik_Therme

BUY @ AMAZON

http://tinyurl.com/zdxwebl

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GIVEAWAY INFORMATION and RAFFLECOPTER CODE

Erik Therme will be awarding a $25 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/28e4345f1907/