Tag: extract

Blog Tour: An Impossible Thing Called Love

Today I will be sharing an extract for my spot on the blog tour for the novel An Impossible Thing Called Love by Belinda Missen. This one is available now.  There is also an international giveaway going on!

Book Description:

Don’t miss the new delightfully uplifting book from the author of A Recipe for Disaster!

A second chance at love…

When globe-trotting Emmy first fell for first-aider William on a freezing New Year’s Eve, she really believed that their love would go the distance.

But when she returns to Australia, her letters start to go unanswered and her emails bounce back unread, Emmy decides it’s time to pick up the pieces of her broken heart and start afresh in London.

So she’s shocked when William walks in on her very first day at her new job! Even worse, he’s hotter than ever. But why did he disappear for so long? What has he been hiding? And could this really be their second chance at falling in love…?

Perfect for fans of Carole Mathews, Mhairi McFarlane and Carrie Hope Fletcher.

Purchase Links:
Paperback: http://bit.ly/2wCYmKS
Amazon US: https://amzn.to/2MHzAEj
Amazon UK: https://amzn.to/2otrlxi
Amazon AU: https://amzn.to/2Pk2jvQ
Book Depository: http://bit.ly/2wCYmKS
Kobo: http://bit.ly/2BXdvv3
iTunes: https://apple.co/2Ptnsnu


Hi Everyone – so this piece here is the lead up to William and Emmy meeting for the first time. Emmy is taking part in the torch parade of Hogmanay, and William is lucky enough to be working first aide for the night. This scene has changed dramatically over the life of the book and, in the end, this seemed like a fitting, if not painful meet-cute for them. I feel like it tells us a bit about each of them as people, without having to put it into words:

Grabbing Josh, I muttered something about men and women still being able to be friends in this day and age without having to get naked with each other. I think I might have been louder than expected because, before I could so much as clutch at Josh’s jacket, they were jostling again. A rustle of fabric, a flash of dancing footsteps, and I felt a blunt sting across my face. All at once, everything was dark and far too bright, like a child was flickering a light switch. My sinuses were connected to a trip switch in my heart, and each beat offered a sulphuric burn. I was disoriented and, as my eyes watered, I took a wobbly seat on the ground. It may have been cold and wet, but it was better than swaying about.

I knew how these moments played out, I’d seen it a million times before when volunteering with the ambulance. Music concerts were especially healthy for face to fist experiences. Heather was screaming at someone, probably Josh, who was apologising profusely. Her voice was soon joined by the polyester swish of a hi-vis bomber jacket. I blinked away tears, hoping to get a proper look at the face that swam in my vision.

Touching my nose only made my face burn and eyes water all over again. Through damp eyes, he looked like a watercolour painting. Street lights shimmered in one corner, and his hair a wispy flame-red cloud with sideburns that reached down and hugged his face. His blurred lopsided smile was the most beautiful thing I’d seen all night. As he came into focus, so did Josh over his shoulder.

‘Oh, Em, I am … fuck … so sorry. Are you okay?’

Heather slapped at him again. ‘What do you think, idiot?’

She barely touched five-feet-tall in a line-up. Despite that, she was full of energy and, right now, looked like a mother about to grab at naughty earlobes. Josh inched away from her and, in all this, it occurred to me just how many people were happy to watch what was happening, to whisper among themselves instead of help. I lolled about, steadying myself with a palm on the cold wet asphalt. Dropping on his haunches, the first-aider snapped his fingers in front of me.

‘You okay?’ he asked. ‘Is there any blood?’

I frowned, confused. ‘Huh?’

‘Are you bleeding?’ He flashed a torchlight across my eyes and offered a fistful of tissues.

Squinting away from the brightness, I dabbed at my eyes. Anything near my nose made me want to vomit, but there was a small trickle of blood. ‘Thank you.’

‘At least it’s not broken,’ we said in unison.

His mouth twitched, a smile that threatened to widen as he offered me a cold pack. Under the light, his eyes were, in one moment, bottle-green. The next, they were ocean blue. ‘What makes you say that?’

‘It’s not all bent up and I can still breathe.’ Through squinting eyes, I waggled a finger at his jacket, complete with reflective patches and a blank space for a name badge. ‘It looks just as good on you as it does on me.’  


About the Author:

Belinda Missen is an award-winning and best-selling author, screenwriter, and freelance writer from Geelong, Australia. She lives with her car-obsessed, but wonderful husband, two loopy cats, and more books than she cares to count.

In late 2017, Belinda signed a six-book contract with HQDigitalUK (HarperCollins). A Recipe for Disaster was released in August 2018. An Impossible Thing Called Love appeared by magic in November 2018.

Contact Belinda:
Website
Twitter @belinda_missen
Instagram @belinda_missen

**International Giveaway**

Win a paperback copy of An Impossible Thing Called Love

a Rafflecopter giveaway

*Terms and Conditions –Worldwide entries welcome.  Please enter using the Rafflecopter box above.  The winner will be selected at random via Rafflecopter from all valid entries and will be notified by Twitter and/or email. If no response is received within 7 days then Rachel’s Random Resources reserves the right to select an alternative winner. Open to all entrants aged 18 or over.  Any personal data given as part of the competition entry is used for this purpose only and will not be shared with third parties, with the exception of the winners’ information. This will passed to the giveaway organiser and used only for fulfilment of the prize, after which time Rachel’s Random Resources will delete the data.  I am not responsible for despatch or delivery of the prize.

Blog Tour: Did I Mention Series

Today I help end the blog tour for the Did I Mention series by Julie Butterfield by sharing extracts of both novels.  There is also an international giveaway going on to win paperback copies of both books!

The Books in the Series:
Did I Mention I Won the Lottery?

Did I Mention I Was Getting Married?

Book Descriptions:

Did I Mention I Won the Lottery?

Rebecca Miles has won the lottery and is now living a millionaire lifestyle. The only problem is – she hasn’t told her husband. So at weekends she’s a dutiful wife in Darlington, working at the local deli and making shepherd’s pie for dinner, but during the week she’s living in her new mansion in Leeds spending her days shopping whilst her husband thinks she’s looking after her sick mother. Will she get the courage to tell him before he finds out for himself? And can several million pounds in your bank account save a failing marriage?

Purchase Links:
Amazon US
Amazon UK

Did I Mention I Was Getting Married?

Two years ago Rebecca Miles won the lottery and ended her marriage to her overbearing and unpleasant husband Daniel. She had every intention of putting the past behind her and starting again, but it turned out to be so much more difficult than she had imagined. Then Daniel announces he is getting married again and as Rebecca broods over how he has found it so easy to move on her daughter phones with good news – she’s getting married too! Determined not to be left behind Rebecca throws caution to the wind and finally meets someone who can give her the new start she so desperately wants. Now her ex-husband is back in her life, the future Mrs Miles wants to be her best friend, she has her daughter’s wedding to plan and a ramshackle old wedding venue to renovate to its former perfection in just a few months, if only she can find a builder who will take on the job. There are challenges, surprises, love and heartbreak ahead but at the end of a long, hot summer, will there be any weddings?

Purchase Links:
Amazon US
Amazon UK


Whilst most of us wouldn’t be able to wait to share the news of a lottery win with our partners, the story behind Did I Mention I won the Lottery was that Rebecca won millions but didn’t tell her husband. It was never a deliberate decision, Daniel was an unpleasant, domineering man who mocked Rebecca and her perceived faults regularly, so her initial feeling was that she would make absolutely sure she had won before breaking the news. Then she felt she just needed a little time to come to terms with her win before she told him. The trouble was, the longer she left it the harder it became:

 
It had been Friday night when Rebecca had checked her numbers against the scrap of paper she had brought home. She hadn’t looked at the numbers since. She hadn’t checked to see how much she had won. And she hadn’t mentioned the winning ticket to Daniel.

There hadn’t seemed much point when she didn’t know what to tell him. All she knew was that she had a winning ticket. She had no idea what her prize was but the daydreams had returned full force. Now they were real and strong. Now it wasn’t an if but a when. Rebecca didn’t know how much she had won but surely it was enough to change her life. It wouldn’t take much after all.

Clutching the coffee mug with one hand, Rebecca soon found the lottery web page that gave all the detail she needed. Every draw, every week, every winning ticket and how much each ticket had won. She scrolled to her week. There had been only one winner that week. Was it Rebecca? She supposed so, she had matched every number. Didn’t that mean she got the jackpot? She scrolled down a little more – and how much had she won?

The cup fell out of her hand as though in slow motion. Rebecca watched as it flew gracefully towards the floor, landed and then bounced upwards throwing its contents across the tiles and her feet before landing again to smash into one large piece and a dozen smaller pieces. She watched for a moment as the pale brown pool of coffee trickled between her toes and round the chair leg then hearing Daniel’s feet thumping down the stairs she reached forward and snapped closed the computer.

‘What have you done? Don’t just sit and look at it, it’s spreading everywhere!’ and with a grunt Daniel grabbed the paper towel from the kitchen and threw it in Rebecca’s direction.

Catching it on reflex, Rebecca tore off a sheet and looked downwards at the spreading pool.

15.7 million pounds. The numbers jumped around in front of her eyes as she stared at the coffee. 15.7 million pounds. Rebecca had won 15.7 million pounds.

Following their divorce, Rebecca found it difficult to believe that Daniel, her unpleasant, overbearing ex husband had found someone new to share his life with when she had been unable to find the courage to move on. She didn’t begrudge Daniel’s happiness although it had made her question where her own life was heading. She was happy to meet his new wife to be but was horrified at the thought that she and Annabelle should become best friends and that Daniel should become part of her life again, It had taken Rebecca several years to get rid of him and she had no intention of inviting him back!

‘Rebecca,’ Annabelle relinquished Daniel’s arm and leant forward slightly. ‘I realise this is difficult for you.’

‘Difficult?’

‘Yes. I mean you’re the ex Mrs Miles and I’m the new Mrs Miles …’

Rebecca couldn’t help herself. ‘Mrs Miles to be.’

‘Mrs Miles very soon to be,’ came back Annabelle.

‘Regardless,’ Rebecca continued smoothly. ‘It’s not at all hard Annabelle. Daniel and I split up two years ago and I’m happy for him – happy that he’s met you and wants to get married.’

Annabelle raised her eyebrows in disbelief. ‘That’s very kind of you to say so Rebecca. But it must be hard,’ she insisted firmly, ‘knowing that Daniel has found true love and seeing him move on must be difficult when you’re still – alone.’

Rebecca opened her mouth to tell Annabelle that life alone was infinitely preferable to life with Daniel.

‘But that’s part of the reason we’ve come to visit. We want there to be no tension in our family,’ continued Annabelle. ‘We want everyone to be included and know they all have a place.’

Rebecca wanted to point out that the family Annabelle was referring to belonged to Rebecca and the only source of tension right now was Annabelle herself, but she swallowed her words and smiled stiffly instead.

‘That’s why I feel it’s important that we get to know each other, become friends and share each other’s lives,’ continued Annabelle dreamily as Rebecca winced at the thought. ‘Won’t it be wonderful – us popping up for a long weekend, the children joining us for barbeques and Sunday lunch. All part of the family.’

Rebecca thought it sounded horrific. She had managed quite well without Daniel in her life for the last two years and if the children ever felt the need to visit their father they could travel down to Devon and do exactly that. She had felt no inclination to invite Daniel to join them for Sunday lunch, in fact if Rebecca had told either of her children their father was arriving, they would probably have cancelled their visit.

‘Of course it would be lovely to be able to reciprocate,’ Annabelle was continuing with a sad look on her face. ‘But I’m afraid Daniel’s circumstances are quite different.’ There it was, that note of censure again. Rebecca didn’t care what Helen said, this wasn’t a nervous Annabelle saying the wrong thing, she definitely had a bee in her bonnet about something.

‘I’m afraid our little house just isn’t up to that kind of entertaining. Goodness me, we wouldn’t be able to find bedrooms for you all,’ she laughed, the little tinkly laugh that was starting to grate on Rebecca’s nerves. ‘No, this is the house.’ She waved her arm around the spacious living room with its huge wood burner and elegant cream furniture. ‘This is where we’ll need to have our little get togethers. We need to get to know each other Rebecca my dear, we’ll be spending a lot of time together from now on,’ and smiling happily Annabelle sat back again, leaning against Daniel’s arm and squeezing him fondly as she looked around the room with a contented expression.


About the Author:

Julie Butterfield belongs to the rather large group of ‘always wanted to write’ authors who finally found the time to sit down and put pen to paper – or rather fingers to keyboard and wrote Did I Mention I Won the Lottery? It should be pointed out this is a complete work of fiction and she did not in fact receive millions in her bank account and forget to mention it her husband – even though he still asks her every day if she has anything to tell him! 

Her second book was Google Your Husband Back and the latest addition is Did I Mention I Was Getting Married? – which revisits Rebecca a few years after the lottery win which changed her life.

Contact Julie:
Website
Twitter @juliebeewriter

**International Giveaway**

Win paperback copies of Did I Mention I Won The Lottery? & Did I Mention I Was Getting Married?

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

*Terms and Conditions –Worldwide entries welcome.  Please enter using the Rafflecopter box above.  The winner will be selected at random via Rafflecopter from all valid entries and will be notified by Twitter and/or email. If no response is received within 7 days then Rachel’s Random Resources reserves the right to select an alternative winner. Open to all entrants aged 18 or over.  Any personal data given as part of the competition entry is used for this purpose only and will not be shared with third parties, with the exception of the winners’ information. This will passed to the giveaway organiser and used only for fulfilment of the prize, after which time Rachel’s Random Resources will delete the data.  I am not responsible for despatch or delivery of the prize.

 

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Blog Tour: The Monsoon Ghost Image

Today I will be sharing an extract for my spot on the blog tour for the novel The Monsoon Ghost Image by Tom Vater. This one is available now! It is book three in the Detective Maier Mystery Series.

Book Description:

Dirty Pictures, Secret Wars And Human Beasts – Detective Maier Is Back To Investigate The Politics Of Murder

The third Detective Maier mystery is a taut and crazy spy thriller for our disturbing times.

When award-winning German conflict photographer Martin Ritter disappears in a boating accident in Thailand, the nation mourns the loss of a cultural icon. But a few weeks later, Detective Maier’s agency in Hamburg gets a call from Ritter’s wife. Her husband has been seen alive on the streets of Bangkok. Maier decides to travel to Thailand to find Ritter. But all he finds is trouble and a photograph.

As soon as Maier puts his hands on the Monsoon Ghost Image, the detective turns from hunter to hunted – the CIA, international business interests, a doctor with a penchant for mutilation and a woman who calls herself the Wicked Witch of the East all want to get their fingers on Martin Ritter’s most important piece of work – visual proof of a post 9/11 CIA rendition and the torture of a suspected Muslim terrorist on Thai soil. From the concrete canyons of the Thai capital to the savage jungles and hedonist party islands of southern Thailand, Maier and his sidekick Mikhail race against formidable foes to discover some of our darkest truths and to save their lives into the bargain.

Purchase Links:
Amazon US
Amazon UK


Maier and Mikhail, trapped on a German tycoon’s island in southern Thailand, populated by wild predatory animals, encounter Dr. Suraporn, a CIA asset and one of the novel’s villains in a clearing.

The Chase

Maier could smell him before they could see him.

There were no animals around, unless one considered Dr. Suraporn to be part of the impossible menagerie out there. Every now and then, the breeze washed the sound of the sea into the deceptively peaceful scene, rendering the Hieronymus Bosch tableau vivant that unfolded in front of them almost bucolic. Otherwise it was perfectly quiet. The jungle had retreated in disgust, its moveable parts as far away as possible from the scene unfurling around the water hole.

Suraporn was down by the water’s edge, his back turned to the three men. He was naked, but for his rubber gloves. Another team of hunters sat disemboweled on the edge of the clearing a few meters away. The doctor had made a fire near the bodies which was now merely smoldering. The carcass of a bird of paradise lay in the bushes a few feet away. A wallet of medical instruments lay open near his victims, bloodied blades strewn across its oilskin fabric. Suraporn’s clothes lay neatly folded, far enough away not to get splattered with the bits of humanity he’d cut off his victims.

Maier looked closer at the two dead men. Both their faces were awash with blood.

Mikhail pushed him gently.

“Don’t look at that for too long. It’s not right.”

It took Maier another few seconds to realize that neither man had a face. Suraporn had pulled the skin off their skulls, all the way down to their jaws. Krieger’s man had had his nose removed. The doctor had skillfully replaced it with the head of a bird. The client was worse. His eye sockets had become the home of tiny snakes, which writhed behind a black web of thread Suraporn had sewn onto the man’s face.

Maier was particularly disturbed by the fact that the web was shaped into a beautiful geometric pattern, a mandala.

When the detective looked up, the doctor, who had turned, stared straight at him.

“You’re the first admirers of my work today. And I must say, your longevity is remarkable.”

Suraporn had a small knife in his gloved right hand. He was twisting the blade around so it would catch the sun. He seemed relaxed, even as he stood bleeding from a wound in his shoulder that he had roughly stitched himself. The man was bionic, almost super human. Maier never saw him blink.

They were about thirty feet from the water’s edge

“Are they all dead?”

Suraporn surveyed the clearing.

“All except for you. Is this a trap? Are you bringing the cavalry?”

Mikhail nodded carefully and looked directly at the doctor. Maier sensed that Mikhail was trying to stare him down, cut off his mind control stuff, if that’s what it was. The detective noticed, quite suddenly, that none of them were pointing their guns at the doctor. As the thought was about to send him into a panic, Suraporn began to speak again.

“The jungle doesn’t worry me. I don’t register with animals much. It is humans who fear me.”

“You just sowed a bird’s head onto a human face.”

The doctor grinned, “Yes, and in record time too. Still, despite my skills, the man expired before my work was completed. The bird didn’t mind. Nature is forgiving to creatures like me.”
He laughed softly.

“What are you?”
“I am the secret weapon in your War on Terror. I go where ordinary men don’t go. To his credit, Ritter tried to cross the threshold too, but he’s not strong enough. You farang are too close to your egos. Your sense of destiny…it’s overdeveloped. We’re all part of something bigger. Even me.”

It was obvious that the doctor relished the situation, relished the tussle with Mikhail, and relished their powerlessness. Maier’s head was screaming, but he looked on, unable to move, in sick fascination.

The doctor was touching his penis with his left hand while keeping an eye on his captives. Maier had no doubt that that’s what they were – prisoners.

“I could stand here playing with myself until Krieger turns up and has you killed. Probably in a theatrical kind of way. He might bring his toy guillotine down the mountain, you never know with him. As I said, egos.”
Absentmindedly, he slid his blade along his penis. It was enough to bring Mikhail out of his trance.

“Small cock, not worth cutting,” he grunted with difficulty. He raised his Beretta and continued, “You don’t have enough respect for us, my dear. Especially not for impatient Russians. I am trained to resist your bag of tricks.”

Beads of sweat ran down his red face and his grey mane clung to his head like a dish mop. He started firing. The bullets zipped past the doctor into the water.

Suraporn didn’t move.


About the Author:

Tom Vater has published four crime novels and is the co-owner of Crime Wave Press, a Hong Kong based crime fiction imprint. He writes for many publications including The Wall Street Journal, The Daily Telegraph, CNN and The Nikkei Asian Review. He is a best-selling non-fiction writer and co-author of the highly acclaimed Sacred Skin (www.sacredskinthailand.com).

Contact Tom:
Twitter
@tomvater
LinkedIn
Clippings

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