Today I am one of the stops on the blog tour for Doctor Perry by Kirsten McKenzie I will be sharing an extract from the novel. There is also a giveaway for one e-book copy!
Under the Hippocratic Oath, a doctor swears to remember that warmth, sympathy, and understanding may outweigh the surgeon’s knife or the chemist’s drug.
Doctor Perry assures his elderly patients at the Rose Haven Retirement Home that he can offer warmth, sympathy, and understanding. Doctor Perry is a liar.
Hiding from a traumatic past, Elijah Cone wants nothing to do with the other residents at the Rose Haven, content to sit at his window waiting to die. He’s about to learn that under Doctor Perry death is the easy option…
Extract from Doctor Perry:
Clarita Swann has arrived at Doctor Perry’s office for a followup consultation. Newly arrived in Florida, with no friends or family, she is the sort of patient Doctor Perry prefers. The sort of person no one misses if they suddenly disappear without any word. Doctor Perry immobilises Clarita using his modified blood pressure cuff which has a needle inside to administer a strong sedative. What happens next is not for the faint hearted…
Please stay still, Miss Swann,” Doctor Perry advised. She’d be immobile shortly, a shame but a necessity. He couldn’t ignore the messages from his clients requesting fresh stock, and those requests hadn’t come with any pleasantries. There’d been another message today, which he’d replied to by promising to deliver Clarita Swann tonight. After supplying them Clarita, the twins, and then Myra, the Cavalletto’s would have more than enough to be getting on with, giving him ample time to disappear before they’d ask for more. And Mary Louise, he had forgotten about her, he still had her up his sleeve. And Molly, she’d go too. Over the years, his receptionists had been excellent stock, a ready supply. The money he’d earned so good, it was a shame to walk away, but the Cavalletto’s were getting too pushy, and now with the police asking questions about two of his elderly clients… He knew where the two men were, and their files. He’d have to destroy those, but he worried that that might make it look more suspicious? He’d think on it later.
The blood pressure monitor beeped, and the cuff deflated automatically with a quiet hissing sound, leaving no other sounds in the room other than Clarita’s shallow breathing. A tiny prick of blood appeared as he removed the cuff from her arm, and Doctor Perry wiped the blood away with a fragment of gauze.
With his patient unconscious on the table, Doctor Perry unbuckled the straps from beneath the bed, and strapped his patient down. Elevating the bed, he opened Clarita’s mouth, a mouth full of straight white teeth – an orthodontist had done excellent work here.
Bringing over the glass of tonic, he tipped it into Clarita’s open mouth, massaging it down her throat, like you do with a cat and a worm tablet. The tonic’s effect was instantaneous. Doctor Perry had barely poured the last drop in when the convulsions started and Clarita’s body strained against the leather straps.
Doctor Perry rinsed the cup, his back to the machinations on the bed. Not listening to any screaming was a huge improvement. Why he hadn’t thought of this earlier was beyond him, and he made a mental note to take the modified blood pressure cuff to Mary Louise’s house, then he wouldn’t have to bring her here which would save time.
A choking sound made him spin around – Clarita’s eyes were open wide, her mouth frothing. Her bones undulated beneath her rippling skin. How was she awake? This was not the reaction he’d been expecting. He looked back at the cup he’d just washed out. Eight fluid ounces wasn’t too much; five might have taken too long. The splash of liquid on the floor made him look back towards Clarita. The contents of her bladder, her bowel, gastric acid, vomit, her cerebrospinal fluid, dripped from the bed creating a virtually impassable lake around her.
Doctor Perry stood transfixed. He’d never had this reaction to any variation of his tonic, although he had lost several patients in the early years of experimentation, but none like this. Picking up the bottle of tonic, he sniffed it. The odour was no different. He daren’t taste it, not with the potential outcome disintegrating on the bed in front of him; a disaster. Backing away, he stuffed the tonic bottles into his bag and snapped it shut. He’d have to clean up the mess, but it was still rippling and heaving, the limbs alternately shrinking and growing back.
A sound like a gunshot made the doctor jump. Clarita’s lovely white teeth weren’t even her own. A full set of dentures exploded from her mouth as her jaw shrank and expanded, landing several feet across the room, scattering the individual teeth in every direction upon impact.
Clarita now reminded Doctor Perry of the Old Croghan Man, an Iron Age body he’d read about years ago. With her skin split like a leather lounge suite left too long in the sun, and her tendons and arteries guitar string taut, her body pulled in on itself, distorting her into an unrecognisable tangle of muscles.
Fleeing crossed Doctor Perry’s mind as he surveyed his consulting room, his bag in his hands. There was too much of Clarita left to stuff into the hazardous waste container and cleaning up would take the whole night. He could just run, now, and forget the others, and the Cavalletto’s. He had enough money to hide from them, and enough tonic. He was looking forward to regaining his youth, but not with this batch. He needed to go to his lab to make another batch and then he’d run, which meant he had to clean up now.
The shuddering on the bed stopped and silence reigned until Doctor Perry pulled out the trash sacks, shook them open, and stuffed Clarita Swann’s desiccated remains into the thick black plastic bags.
About the Author:
For many years Kirsten McKenzie worked in her family’s antique store, where she went from being allowed to sell the 50c postcards as a child, to selling $5,000 Worcester vases and seventeenth century silverware, providing a unique insight into the world of antiques which touches every aspect of her writing.
Her historical fiction novels ‘Fifteen Postcards‘ and its sequel ‘The Last Letter’ have been described as ‘Time Travellers Wife meets Far Pavilions’, and ‘Antiques Roadshow gone viral’. The third book in the series ‘Telegram Home’ will be released in November 2018 by Accent Press.
Her bestselling gothic horror novel ‘Painted‘ was released in 2017, with her medical thriller ‘Doctor Perry‘ following closely in April 2018.
She lives in New Zealand with her husband, her daughters, an SPCA rescue cat and a kitten found in the neighbour’s shed, and can usually be found procrastinating on Twitter under the handle @kiwimrsmac.
Win a e-book copy of Doctor Perry!
This giveaway will run from today (July 15th) through midnight Eastern US time on July 20th. Winner will be announced/contacted on the 21st. This is the length of the tour. Good luck! Copy will be supplied by Kirsten. Contact info will only be kept for this giveaway.
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Today I am one of the stops on the blog tour for Unfinished Business by SC Cunningham. This is book two in the David trilogy. I will be sharing an extract from the novel. There is also an international giveaway going on for a hardback copy!
He loved being him… he got away with murder.
She loved being her… until she met him.
The steamy roller coaster ride of psychotic David’s obsession with his childhood sweetheart, a skilled mix of fuelled tension, dark humour and pulsating sex scenes.
With the help of her gutsy friends, fun-loving city girl Tara Warr is the only victim to survive David Howard’s death list. Whilst lounging in prison the hypnotic sexual tour de force enlists an eager recruit, seduces a prison warden and relocates to the sunnier climes of Mexico, a freedom short-lived when his charred remains are found in the fire of a plastic surgeon’s clinic. The police cease their search, finally Tara and her friends can relax, David is dead.
Laughter soon turns to fear when he communicates via Tara’s laptop that he is very much alive, knows their every move and is ready to finish what he started. He is among them, but who? He has a brand new face.
Tara has had enough, time to turn the tables and make him suffer. A woman unafraid of death is a dangerous thing. Has David finally met his match?
Extract of Unfinished Business:
3am, Bedroom, Apartment, Chelsea, London, England
Oh so gently, not to wake her, he pulled back the bed sheet and slowly eased her legs apart. The cool night air teased naked skin and pumped her senses on high alert. Delicious, pulsing excitement built between her legs… he’s here, he’s here!
Eyes tight shut, breaths shallow, limbs ragdoll limp, she faked sleep, desperately wanting to peek through lashes, but it was too risky.
Within the stillness of the dark room she could make out the soft rise and fall of measured breaths, and feel the heat of cold, calm eyes burning into her. The devastatingly handsome David Howard was standing over her bed, silent, broody, menacing, leisurely taking in the view of her exposed body.
He’d brought his camera.
A chill went through her, instinctively she wanted to grab the sheet and cover up, but dare not move for fear of losing him.
She waited, and waited… what is he doing?
The sound of a zipper and the rustle of clothes falling to the floor… shit, he’s undressing!
Her heart pumped, her hips intuitively tilted upwards, inviting… no, no, no… calm, don’t blow it… she masked the movement, pretending to shift in her sleep.
More silence… now what?
She quietly begged… touch me… please… just touch me… the anticipation killing her.
His breathing started to labour, a soft slapping, chafing of skin on skin, building in speed, he let out a low back-of-the-throat groan… he’s wanking, he’s standing over me and wanking.
She fought the urge to smile, to sit up and take him in her mouth… wait.
He moved to the end of the bed and leaned forward; the mattress dipped as he crawled up between her legs and knelt between thighs, the tingling warmth of his skin brushed hers. She wanted to wrap her legs around his hips and pull him onto her, but instead she lay still, feigning non interest, feigning sleep… wait.
He stretched up to the window above her bed and slowly pulled back the curtain, careful not to make a sound. A yellow streetlamp glow bathed the room, highlighting the curves of her beautiful body, he knelt in silence, staring, for what seemed like an age, driving her nuts… do something damn it, do something!.. she silent-screamed.
As if he could hear, he leaned forward and tenderly trailed strong, agile fingers the length of her inner thighs, easing them further apart… oh my god. Her hips lifted in reply, every morsel of her being ached for him to be inside her. She was wet, very wet.
The bed creaked with warning as he lowered his head to blow warm teasing air between open legs. Her breath caught, longing pulled at her stomach… oh fuck!
Blood pumped her groin, juices eased lips apart, glistening, twinkling at him to enter.
‘I know you’re awake,’ he whispered, his voice low and hoarse.
‘Don’t move, keep your eyes closed… you’re going to like this.’
He dipped his head and opened his mouth.
About the Author:
British Author S C Cunningham (The Penance List, Unfinished Business and The Deal) creates psychological and paranormal thrillers with a skilled mix of fueled tension, dark humor, and pulsating sex scenes. Her works offer a fresh level of sincerity and authority, rare in fiction.
Cunningham writes what she knows. Abducted as a child, she survived; and every night for months afterward, she prayed to God, asking for a deal. This personal journey sparked the fuse behind the intriguing and riveting fictional world she portrays in The Deal, the first in the Fallen Angel Series. Twenty years later she crossed paths with a violent serial attacker, thus sowing the seed for her thrillers The Penance List and Unfinished Business part of The David Trilogy. She is currently working on Book III For My Sins.
An ex-model, British born of Irish roots, she married a rock musician and has worked in the exciting worlds of rock music, film, sports celebrity management and as a Crime Investigator for the Police – Wanted & Absconder Unit, Intelligence Analyst, Major Crime Team, Investigations Hub.
Having worked in the music to film industry, she writes with film in mind. The Penance List has been adapted to film screenplay.
Win a hardback copy of Unfinished Business!
*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 I reserve 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 I will delete the data. I am not responsible for despatch or delivery of the prize.[Top]
Today I am one of the stops on the blog tour for The Red Hand of Fury by R.N. Morris! I will be sharing an extract from the novel. There is also an international giveaway going on for a hardback copy!
London, June 1914. A young man is mauled to death at London Zoo after deliberately climbing into the bear pit. Shortly afterwards, another young man leaps to his death from the notorious Suicide Bridge. Two seemingly unconnected deaths – and yet there are similarities.
Following a third attempted suicide, Detective Inspector Silas Quinn knows he must uncover the link between the three men if he is to discover what caused them to take their own lives. The one tangible piece of evidence is a card found in each of the victims’ possession, depicting a crudely-drawn red hand. What does it signify? To find the answers, Quinn must revisit his own dark past. But can he keep his sanity in the process …?
Extract of The Red Hand of Fury:
The investigation in The Red Hand Of Fury is prompted by the bizarre deaths of three young men. Apparently suicides, the deaths share a number of common features, most strikingly that the dead men are all naked. The first of these deaths takes place in the polar bear enclosure at London Zoo…
Harold didn’t like the way the bear was looking at him.
Sitting there in its grubby white coat. Stuffing its drooling snout with cold, dead fish, the blood staining its chops as it relentlessly crunched down on its disgusting meal.
It envied him, he knew it. Why wouldn’t it? It had been wrested far from its home, to be gawped at by the world and his wife. And with only raw dead fish from a stinking bucket to feed on. Not to mention having to defecate in the same place as it dined. Even a bear must object to that.
He could feel its hostility and its envy.
Now and then, he could even hear the bear’s evil thoughts. Naturally, the animal was not capable of verbal thought. Which was how he knew that it was the bear’s thoughts he was hearing. They came to him as unpleasant vibrations and strident screeches that he felt in his solar plexus. And even though they were wordless, there was no doubt about the malice they bore.
Oh, it was a sly one all right. Pretending to be absorbed in the fish, or from time to time breaking off to consider the long claws of its toes with perfect complacency.
It seemed to be saying to him, ‘It would be an easy thing for me to rip you apart, you know.’
Harold noticed how it turned its head in every direction except towards him. Sly! Very sly!
He looked around to see if anyone else shared his suspicions and his outrage. But no, the other visitors to the Mappin Terraces at London Zoo seemed perfectly enchanted by the bear’s demeanour.
Could they not see how it wished them all harm?
The polar bear was man’s enemy. The only thing that had prevented war between man and polar bears was the accident of geography; neither had very much interest in the other’s territory.
But the zoo authorities had made a fatal mistake in bringing this beast to London and placing it in the midst of the civilian population, without any form of military supervision. Not only that, they fed it and kept it alive, with only a low railing and a shallow pit to protect the public.
The bear could easily climb out and run rampage. Go berserk, in fact. A teacher had once told him that the word berserk had something to do with bears. Wasn’t it to do with warriors who fought like bears, ripping their enemies apart with their teeth and bare hands? Who fought without arms or armour, protected only by the bestial rage that possessed them.
He seemed to remember it came from the Norse. Or was it Russian?
He couldn’t remember exactly what the teacher had said now. The lesson had been given in the context of his own behaviour at the time. Apparently he had gone berserk himself, and old Mr Beesley couldn’t resist the opportunity for a lesson in etymology.
The bear looked peaceful enough now. At this moment it was holding its toes, as if it had only just discovered they were attached to it. Feigning simplicity, Harold had no doubt. It liked to give the impression that it was some kind of arctic Buddha. It was fat enough. A deceitful smile played about its chops. But Harold knew what was really going on. It was trying to hide its envy with a smile. But it lacked the control over its facial muscles to pull it off: the bear was not a good actor.
It pretended to be a simple creature, content with a bucket of fish and a pond to swim in. But it did not know that Harold could hear its malign thoughts.
He had the measure of that bear, all right. He knew how, despite its demonstration of placidity, deep down, it hated all humans. And Harold especially. Perhaps it had an inkling of his power as a bear mind-reader and feared him as its natural master. All creatures hate that which they fear.
Did it expect them all to bow in homage to it? Or to pay it tribute of some kind? To throw it iced buns or a freshly sacrificed child?
It must have sensed that it would never receive such obeisance from Harold. And hated him all the more for that reason.
No, he would never bow to it. On the contrary, he would teach that bloody polar bear a lesson!
About the Author:
R. N. Morris is the author of eight historical crime novels. His first, A Gentle Axe, was published by Faber and Faber in 2007. Set in St Petersburg in the nineteenth century, it features Porfiry Petrovich, the investigating magistrate from Dostoevsky’s great novel, Crime and Punishment. The book was published in many countries, including Russia. He followed that up with A Vengeful Longing, which was shortlisted for the CWA Gold Dagger. A Razor Wrapped in Silk came next, followed by The Cleansing Flames, which was nominated for the Ellis Peters Historical Novel Dagger. The Silas Quinn series of novels, set in London in 1914, began with Summon Up The Blood, followed by The Mannequin House, The Dark Palace and now The Red Hand of Fury, published on 31 March, 2018.
Win a hardback copy of The Red Hand of Fury!
*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 I reserve 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 I will delete the data. I am not responsible for despatch or delivery of the prize.