Showing posts with label suspense. Show all posts
Showing posts with label suspense. Show all posts

Friday, July 6, 2018

"Watching You" by Shannon Greenland

REVIEW and GIVEAWAY
Watching You
by Shannon Greenland

Watching You by Shannon Greenland

Watching You by Shannon Greenland is currently on tour with Xpresso Book Tours. The tour stops here today for my review, an excerpt, and a giveaway. Please be sure to visit the other tour stops as well.


Description
Viola’s always been that girl from that family, so a scholarship to a prestigious private school in Florida was supposed to be her ticket out of poverty and into a brand-new life. But Viola’s secrets have followed her. Her relationship with the intelligent and gorgeous Riel should have been the salvation she needed - he understands her troubled past better than anyone. But then weird things start to happen.
Frightening messages.
Missing personal items.
The unsettling feeling that she’s being watched.
Viola’s never been one to give her trust easily, but she’ll need to trust in Riel if she’s going to survive her stalker. Because she’s not fighting for a new life anymore - she’s fighting to stay alive.


Excerpt
PROLOGUE
(Stalker)
Her long dark hair fans out beneath her as she lies sprawled on the ground.
What a pitiful excuse of a girl.
Squatting down beside her, I take in her huge irises as I tighten the white scarf around her neck and watch the life in her eyes start to fade.
She had been warned.
She didn’t listen.
This is what she gets. For everything.

CHAPTER ONE
Whoever installed this mess must have been high.
Crammed under a desk in the library, I reach for a wad of tangled wires, completely aware that my butt sticks straight up in the air and hoping nobody notices.
“Dammit.” I bang my head on the underside of the desk and try yet again to wrap a label around one of the wires.
“Can I help you?”
I stop, and pushing my glasses up my nose, I glance over my shoulder to see a pair of tanned muscular legs standing right behind me. He’s probably staring at my butt. Great.
“Can I help you?” he repeats, and I catch a hint of accent.
“I’m all right,” I call back. “Just trying to label some wires.” What’s he doing here, anyway? The semester doesn’t start for two more days.
“You new here?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
“Student tech crew?”
“Yeah,” I answer again, wondering if he’s going to keep standing there staring at my ass. At least I’d thrown on jeans. Although they are low rise.
“Sure you don’t need any help?”
Obviously he’s not leaving, and I’m so not comfortable with the probable direction of his stare. So I wiggle my way out.
I smile up at him, trying not to show my irritation at being interrupted, and catch him looking right down my V-neck T. His eyes jump to mine in that embarrassed, I-just-got-busted-looking-down-your-shirt way that makes him seem more harmless than anything.
I tighten my ponytail as I stand and zero in on those eyes, and phew, what eyes they are. Amber? No, green. No, a combination of both.
He wears his dark hair long enough that it curls against his neck. He smiles then, and I catch a flash of dimples that flutter all kinds of girlie things through me that I have no business feeling. As I take him in one more time, I think of this Calvin Klein poster my momma has of a young Antonio Sabato Jr.
Yes, my momma has an underwear ad hanging in her locker at work.
I remind myself I need to speak. “Great accent,” I tell him. “Where’re you from?”
“Spain. You?”
“Backwoods, Tennessee.”
“Tennessee?” He laughs a little, and Lord help me if it’s not the best I’ve ever heard. All deep and chuckly. “Guess that explains your twang.”
“Guess so.”
“Big change coming south to the Keys.”
“Yeah, big change.” He has no idea how huge of a change. Where everything in my life is concerned. “Well, I need to get back to work,” I say, more because I don’t need an amber-eyed, Spanish, chuckly distraction. “Thanks again for the offer of help. I guess I’ll see you around when class starts.”
“Sorry, didn’t introduce myself.” He offers a hand, and I take it, finding it warm and dry and perfect. Nothing worse than a clammy hand. “I’m Riel Villanuevo.”
“Oh! You’re my peer mentor. The guidance office gave me your name.”
His lips curve in confusion. “They did?”
“I’ve heard all about you. I’m Viola Burnett, the academy’s scholarship recipient.”
His smile slides away as does his hand from mine. “I’m sorry, did you say scholarship recipient?”
The air between us suddenly chills. I blink and take a step back. “Yes?”
The muscles in his jaw tick. “As of when?”
“Last…week.” What’s going on? Why is he suddenly so pissed?
“Who called you?”
I stare at him a second, unable to wrap my brain around his sudden temper. “Dr. Williams, the director.”
Riel doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, then he jerks his fingers through his dark hair. “Something’s not right.”
I don’t know what to say to that. I’m so completely clueless why he’s upset.
He grabs his books off the computer desk.
“I already moved into the dorm,” I say, not really sure why.
“Listen,” he tells me. “There’s been a mistake.”
“A mistake?” Dread settles through me. “No, I don’t think so.” There better not have been a mistake. I spent my entire school career trying to get into this private academy, and I’m here. I’m finally here. No way has there been a mistake.
Riel doesn’t respond and instead turns and strides off.
It takes me a solid minute of standing in a befuddled haze to realize he’s probably headed straight to the director’s office to dispute my scholarship.
Oh, wait a minute! No, he’s not! I charge off after him across the library and down the hall, and as I march into the administrative suite, I immediately hear them.
“But Dr. Williams,” Riel pleads. “I thought you said the scholarship was mine.”
I come to a halt. His? Oh no. This isn’t good.
“No,” Dr. Williams patiently responds. “I said you were a candidate for the funds. You know as well as I do that it goes back up for review every year.”
“But I’m a senior,” Riel says. “This is my last year. I’ve had the academy’s scholarship every year I’ve come here. Shouldn’t I get seniority?”
“It doesn’t work that way,” the director says.
“Why didn’t somebody tell me?”
“I thought the committee did. I apologize for the oversight.”
Riel sighs. “Is there any other available money?”
“No, Riel, I’m sorry.”
Silence falls between them, and guilt works its way through me at the things I said, and didn’t say, to get the scholarship. Of course I know nothing about Riel so I don’t know if he really deserves it more than me or not, and look at me trying to justify everything. Reverse the roles, and I’d be pissed, too.
“If Viola for some reason doesn’t work out, what will you do with the funds?” Riel asks.
“That decision will ultimately go to the committee. Generally, though, the money goes to our second choice, which would be you. But I can’t see why she won’t work out.”
The guilt turns to foreboding and stirs darkly in my gut. There’s no reason anyone around here should find out that I stretched the truth on my application.
“I know your situation,” Dr. Williams says. “I’ll do everything I can to help you.”
Situation? What situation?
“Right.” Riel finally speaks. “Well, thanks for seeing me.”
“Riel?” Dr. Williams stops him from leaving. “How is everything at home?”
Riel doesn’t answer, and I take a step closer to hear.
A phone rings. “Need to take this,” Dr. Williams says, and I quickly turn to leave.
“Have fun eavesdropping?” Riel snips as he brushes past me.
I want to snip back but have no place. He’s right; I had been eavesdropping.
A blond guy sticks his head in the door to the administrative suite. “Yo, Riel, you coming tonight? Gonna be a kickass beginning-of-the-year bash.”
Riel shakes his head. “Too much going on.”
“Sucks for you,” blond guy says.
“See you in a couple days, though, when school starts,” Riel tells him.
Blond guy glances at me, giving me a once-over. “Freshman?”
“Senior.”
He gives me what I’m sure he thinks is a sexy smile. “Welcome. I’m Peter.”
Ugh. “Thanks.”
With that, blond guy’s gone and Riel turns to me. Confusion, worry, and strain reflects in his gaze for a beat, bringing on my own confusion and worry. What have I done to this guy?
It seems like he wants to say something, so I hold my breath and wait. Instead, he shakes his head and walks off.
I close my eyes. This is not how I expected to start my year.
[Want more? Click below to read a longer excerpt.]


Praise for the Book
“This book is everything you could hope for! Bravery, suspense, romance, and insight into the stalkers mind ... S.E. Green/ Shannon Greenland brings her A game to every novel. You won't be disappointed!” ~ KPKnupp, Goodreads Reviewer
“One of my favorite things about reading a new book is when it surpasses my expectations. Watching You, from beginning to end, was just such a novel, avoiding typical cliches and maintaining a high level of interest, incorporating interesting characters and events.” ~ Sascha Darlington's Microcosm Explored
“If you love hella-hot, resourceful guys, sassy, smart girls, and a suspenseful ending that'll make you forget your to-do list and read this story in one sitting, then this book is for you! Highly recommend!” ~ Victoria B., Goodreads reviewer
“This was the first book I have experienced from Shannon and I loved the suspense she created as well as the characters- I have now just added pretty much all her other books to my need-list to read. The ending gave me warm fuzzies because of just how perfect it was for the book and the people. I highly recommend this romantic suspense read for anyone who loves swoon worthy guys, tough yet sweet southern girls and an interesting stalker!” ~ KRLGA


My Review
I received this book in return for an honest review.


By Lynda Dickson
Viola begins her senior of high school on a full scholarship to the prestigious Ponce de Leon Academy, where she meets Riel, the previous holder of the scholarship. Viola is consumed by guilt because she lied about her family background in her application. Things become even more complicated when she realizes she’s attracted to Riel. On top of that, she has the feeling that someone is watching her. Who is the driver of the dark SUV that seems to be following her? Suspects abound. Could the stalker be Viola’s ex-boyfriend Manny, her estranged father, one of her mother’s many boyfriends, friendly Mr. Hamns, the bald deckhand who’s always wearing sunglasses, Riel’s estranged father, Riel himself, fellow student Peter, or even her frenemy Abbie?
The story is told in the first person present tense by Viola and is interspersed with accounts by the “Stalker”, who has already killed one girl and is watching Viola’s every move. The short chapters and quick scene changes keep the story moving and heighten the suspense. There is also the added bonus of a budding romance between Viola and the oh-so-perfect Riel.
Hard to put down.
Warnings: violence, sexual references, coarse language, sex scenes, domestic abuse. 


About the Author
Shannon Greenland
Shannon Greenland is the award-winning author of several novels including the teen spy series, The Specialists, and the YA romances, The Summer My Life Began and Shadow of a Girl. She also writes thrillers under S. E. Green and lives off the coast of Florida with her very grouchy dog.




Giveaway
Enter the tour-wide giveaway for a chance to win one of three $10 Amazon gift cards.

Links


Friday, June 29, 2018

"Nocturnal Meetings of the Misplaced" by R. J. Garcia

EXCERPT and GIVEAWAY
Nocturnal Meetings of the Misplaced
by R. J. Garcia

Nocturnal Meetings of the Misplaced by R. J. Garcia

Nocturnal Meetings of the Misplaced by R. J. Garcia is currently on tour with BeachBoundBooks. The tour stops here today for an excerpt and a giveaway. Please be sure to visit the other tour stops as well.


Description
Mystery surrounds the town of Summertime, Indiana, where fifteen-year-old Tommy Walker and his little sister are sent to live with relatives they’ve never met. Tommy soon makes friends with Finn Wilds, a rebellious local who lives with his volatile and abusive stepfather, who also happens to be the town’s sheriff.
Finn invites Tommy to late night meetings in the woods, where Tommy gets to know two girls. He forms a special and unique connection with both girls. The meetings become a place where the kids, who don’t fit in at school, or home can finally belong. As the group of friends begin to unravel clues to a cold case murder and kidnapping - they learn the truth is darker and closer than they ever imagined. Even if they live to tell, will anyone believe them?

Book Video


Excerpt
A sense of fragility filled the air. We were in the woods late at night without any adults. It seemed a little dangerous. The kind of dangerous that makes you know you’re alive. The wind mysteriously moaned. Some of the trees remained bare and stark, still dormant from the winter. Other trees had come back to life but started shedding from the return of the cold. It would have made an ideal setting for a horror movie.
I looked at a jet-black sky through a waning awning of leaves. The crescent moon ghosted down on us, along with a few scattered stars. We stepped on dead leaves and foliage and kept walking. After about fifteen minutes we made it to a clearing. Motionless shadows from the trees showed on the frosted grass.
The beam of the flashlight whirled around wildly as Finn shot it around the surrounding trees. Stray rays of light even touched the treetops.
“Are you sure this is where we’re supposed to meet them?” I asked.
Finn leaned back, resting his arm against a majestic oak tree, near the edge of the clearing. “Yeah. I’m positive. We always meet here.” The massive tree branches spindled out like a giant fan, some of the lower branches almost touched the ground.
Although it was the first official day of spring, the temperatures had dropped. I was the dumb kid who only wore a hoodie. Now that we stopped moving, the coldness knifed its way up my feet and ankles. Before I knew it, the chill took the rest of my body. I shifted all around in a lame attempt to keep warm. “It’s really cold,” I complained.
“You don’t have to tell me. My tomatoes died,” he said gravely.
Shivering, I told him, “You know, your blood can literally freeze.”
“It’s not that cold,” Finn replied, mildly irritated. He stepped toward me, pulling off his black ski cap and gloves, which had the fingers cut out. We were a generation so obsessed with our phones that we couldn’t even wear real gloves anymore. Finn handed them to me. Once I slipped them both on, they helped a little. We heard a kind of rustling off in the foliage. Confusion registered on his face, mirroring my own. Finn shined the light toward the sound, but we didn’t see anything.
[Want more? Click below to read a longer excerpt.]


Praise for the Book
“Fast paced mystery that will leave you breathless!” ~ Author, Dave Wickenden
Nocturnal Meetings of the Misplaced is a young adult thriller filled with mystery and intrigue. Its many twists and turns will keep readers on the edge of their seats.” ~ IndieReview
“A well-told story about friendship, love, family and murder/mystery that had me heartbroken and full of shivers!” ~ Turn the Page of Books
“This YA contemporary story opens with intrigue (like its cover!) and adds suspenseful layers all the way to the tumultuous end.” ~ Christina Dwivedi
“This novel is not teen angst, but the excitement of young love - the madness and muddle of thinking the wrong thing, the shame and mortification of saying it. Words are analyzed before spoken, parsed and reconsidered and judged and considered again. The author’s brilliance is in hearing the thoughts of her characters so clearly.” ~ Amazon Reviewer
“RJ Garcia’s twisting tale navigates the lives of a fringe group of teens who discover some of the most sinister secrets exist in the cracks of idyllic small-town life. Reminiscent of the mood and haunting tone of VC Andrews’ greatest novels, the plot toes a line between the eerie and the downright horrific with characters that jump off the page and into your heart.” ~ Amazon Reviewer


About the Author
R. J. Garcia is a wife, and proud mom of two smart kids. She earned her MSW and worked with foster children and as a school social worker. Writing has been her other great love. She has published several non-fiction pieces. She has been writing short stories for as long as she can remember. To her amazement, those short stories became novels!



Giveaway
Enter the tour-wide giveaway for a chance to win a $25 Amazon gift card or PayPal cash.

Links

Monday, June 25, 2018

"Go Home, Afton" by Brent Jones

REVIEW and EXCERPT
Go Home, Afton
(The Afton Morrison Series Book 1)
by Brent Jones

Go Home, Afton (The Afton Morrison Series Book 1) by Brent Jones

Author Brent Jones stops by today to share an excerpt from his latest book, Go Home, Afton. You can also read my review. This is the first book in his new Afton Morrison serial thriller. Available for pre-order: See You Soon, Afton and Nice Try, Afton.


For more books by this author, please check out my blog post on The Fifteenth of June and my blog post on Fender.

Description
We all wear masks, and Afton Morrison is no exception.
A small-town librarian with a dark side, Afton, twenty-six, has suppressed violent impulses her entire adult life. Impulses that demand she commit murder.
Blending her urges with reason, Afton stalks a known sexual predator, intending to kill him. But her plan, inspired by true crime and hatched with meticulous care, is interrupted by a mysterious figure from her past. A dangerous man that lurks in the shadows, watching, threatening to turn the huntress into the hunted.
Go Home, Afton is the first of four parts in a new serial thriller by author Brent Jones. Packed with grit and action, The Afton Morrison Series delves into a world of moral ambiguity, delivering audiences an unlikely heroine in the form of a disturbed vigilante murderess.

Excerpt
Parents—stay-at-home moms, mostly—brought in their toddlers once a week so I could read them a story. And I use the word toddlers loosely. Kids as old as six or seven sometimes attended during the summer. And the stories we would read were made up of fewer than fifty words, for the most part. A lot of the mothers in Wakefield were too lazy to read to their own children, I guess.
Oh, and crafts, too. After reading a story together, we’d break out glitter and colored pencils and paste and other nonsense, but that wasn’t the real reason a dozen women turned out with their little monsters each week. Storytime was an excuse for the mothers to gather and gossip. It always took a little while to get the children to settle down, sure. I’d press my finger to my lips and wait. Five or ten seconds at most, although I would have been happy to wait longer. Their mothers, on the other hand, were so much worse. Getting them to shut their fucking traps was a whole separate exercise in endurance.
But as much as I disliked children, there was something magical about them. It was their inability to see gray, I think. Their entire worlds existed in black and white, right and wrong, good and evil. You could see it in their faces as a story unfolded, rife with nervous energy at every inconsequential turn.
“And she just doesn’t know”—I read to the room, pointing to each gigantic word—“should she stay, should she go?”
I caught a boy’s expression, who sat just inches from me. The hippopotamus in our story was faced with a dilemma, and this boy was transfixed. His eyes were wide, his hands were cupped over his mouth, and he was vibrating with anticipation to see what the hippo would do next.
I flipped to the last page. “But yes the hippopotamus.”
The boy relaxed a little, making a deliberate show of letting his shoulders drop. A talented drama queen in the making. He was new to storytime and looked to be about five or six years old. He had dark hair, a tan complexion, and a missing front tooth. He’d attended just once before and he’d sat close that day, as well. I’d never really been big on learning children’s names, to be honest, but I knew his was Neil only because he’d come to the library alone both times. It sounds strange, I’m sure, but having a parent use the library as a free babysitting service happens more often than most people would guess.
I continued on, reading the final words of the story. “But not the armadillo.”
Neil was stressed all over again, and his tiny hand shot up. “Miss Afton?”
“Yes, ah, Neil? What is it, little man?”
“How come not the arma-darma?”
“Armadillo.” A woman in baggy gray sweatpants corrected him from the back of the room. She was a few years older than me, had bleach-blonde hair in a ponytail, and her voice resembled a seagull getting crushed by a car.
I shut the book and set it on my lap. “That’s a good question, Neil.” I bit my lower lip, deciding how much to share. “Well, let’s see. Ah, no one likes armadillos, for starters. They’re bullet-proof, if you can believe it, and ugly as sin. They carry leprosy, too, but they don’t bite children too often.”
The woman at the back of the room—Sweatpants, let’s call her—looked horrified. Her stained teeth chattered and she blinked in rapid succession. She placed her palms over her daughter’s ears, a girl around three or four in age.
Neil scratched his head. “What’s a lepra-she?”
“It’s—”
Sweatpants raised her hand to silence me—not that I minded—and looked to a few of the other mothers in the room for support, most of whom were checked out or occupied with their phones. She looked back at me again, then at her daughter. “It’s when good little boys and girls get ice cream.” That wasn’t how I might have defined the word, however. “You want to stop for ice cream on the way home, Jessi?”
It was hard enough getting these little turds to sit still for all fourteen pages of But Not the Hippopotamus. Why on earth would this woman want to stuff her daughter’s face with sugar before lunch? But the girl jumped up and squealed at the mention of sweets, and soon, other kids joined in, as did their mothers.
I peeked down at Neil to see him cradling his head in his hands, masking a look of disappointment by staring at the floor. It appeared he had forgotten all about armadillos and leprosy and storytime, and now sulked, wishing he had a parent present to take him for ice cream like the other children.
The mothers talked amongst themselves, and their toddlers fed on the elevated energy levels. The room was alive with discourse, and I wondered if the local Dairy Queen might consider paying me a small commission. “Well, that’s it for storytime, boys and girls. Thanks for coming.”
Sweatpants spoke up at the back of the room, the self-elected leader of Wakefield’s fattest and frumpiest. “But it’s only quarter past, Afton. Isn’t storytime supposed to be a full hour?”
“Just figured you were all on your way to get a double-scoop of leprosy.”
“Very funny.”
I raised my hands in a gesture of mock uncertainty. “We’ve got crafts we can do.” I pointed to three short tables covered in plastic, adorned with supplies that Kim had set up for us. “Should we get to it?”
“That won’t take long. Couldn’t you read them another story first?”
Couldn’t I read them another story? It’d been her idea to squeeze out one of these little nightmares. Why was I being punished for it? “Not this week, I’m afraid. Sorry.”
But she just wouldn’t give up. “Afton, do you know where Jessi’s daddy is right now?”
My first thought was that her husband was probably fucking her sister at some roadside motel with hourly rates, bed bugs, and a one-star rating on Trip Advisor. I couldn’t say that out loud, of course, and so I fought like hell to keep a smirk off my face. It helped to keep my sights trained on Jessi, who had sat back down, cross-legged in a checkered dress. She was drawing on the floor with one small finger.
Sweatpants answered her own question. “He’s at work, Afton. And he works hard, by the way, and we pay more than our share of taxes in this town. Taxes that pay your salary.”
Oh, the salary card. How I loved it when disgruntled parents brought up my salary, as if any one of them wanted to trade places with me. Yes, her taxes paid me a small fortune. That’s why I rented a one-bedroom apartment in a triplex. And it’s the same reason I drove a seven-year-old Corolla. I was so grateful—indebted, even—to Sweatpants and her husband that I just couldn’t wait to read another story.
“Sure thing.” I grabbed a second book off the pile next to me. “One more story, coming right up.”
Sweatpants smiled. It was a flat, fake smile, of course, the kind where the mouth curls tight but the eyes are dormant. It was about the best I could have hoped for, and it seemed to have a calming effect on the other mothers. They quieted down, eager to return to their various text message conversations.
I pointed my finger to more jumbo text on a colorful page. A story about an overweight and diabetic caterpillar with impulse control issues, who was always so very very fucking hungry. “In the light of the moon, a little egg lay on a leaf . . .”
And I couldn’t help but lose myself in thought. I was that little egg on a leaf, glimmering in the moonlight, and about to hatch. Soon after, the morning would come. And my hunger would be satiated at last, because Kenneth Pritchard would be dead.

Praise for the Book
“This story is full of twists and turns and lots of action.” ~ Linda Strong
“A fast, fast read that grabbed me from the first chapter and wouldn't let me go until the end. And even then, it left me wanting more - soon.” ~ Hobart
“I thoroughly enjoyed this book! This book is reminiscent of a female version of Dexter Morgan. The main character to this novel was so intriguing! It was interesting to read her emotions and to see her animus come out and how she reacted to her inner self. The tension in this book was so thick you could cut it with a knife. […] I kept finding new twists and turns at every end. This book does leave on a cliffhanger and I can't wait to see whats in store for Afton! This was a very refreshing read.” ~ Laura Henderson
“Something Different. And not in the way some people use the word different as a veiled complaint or insult. I mean actually refreshingly different.” ~ Andrea
“I would recommend this book to those looking for a fresh thriller or action story, and look forward to reading the rest of the series!” ~ Lara. C.S.

My Review
I received this book in return for an honest review.


By Lynda Dickson
Afton is a children’s librarian with a secret. In her spare time, she stalks “someone the world’s better off without” with the intention of killing him. But someone is watching her, too. Who is The Man in Shadows who seems to be following her? And what dark secret from her past is Afton hiding?
Afton Morrison is a female Dexter Morgan, right down to her Dark Passenger, Animus Afton, the manifestation of her darkest desires. However, she has yet to perform her first kill. She is a complex character, at once inspiring compassion and fear. She injects enough humor and humanity into her actions to make her likable. She is also surrounded by a cast of interesting support characters. Be warned, this is a serial novel, and you will have to read the rest of the series to get the complete story. I look forward to finding out more about the incident that shaped Afton and the motivations that drive her.
Warnings: coarse language, sexual references, sexual assault, graphic violence.

Some of My Favorite Lines
“… a small-town librarian seems innocent enough, until she’s given an opportunity to take a man’s life in cold blood.”
“Being plain on the outside was a good aesthetic for a woman planning to commit homicide.”
“A female psychopathic vegetarian librarian with a pet goldfish. […] What’s that they say? That truth is stranger than fiction?”
“… there was something special about the written word. It was like having an out-of-body experience, transporting our consciousness to new worlds, fueled by nothing more than the power of our minds.”

About the Author
Brent Jones
From bad checks to bathroom graffiti, Brent Jones has always been drawn to writing. He won a national creative writing competition at the age of fourteen, although he can’t recall what the story was about. Seventeen years later, he gave up his career to pursue creative writing full-time.
Jones writes from his home in Fort Erie, Canada. He’s happily married, a bearded cyclist, a mediocre guitarist, and the proud owner of two dogs with a God complex.


Just for Fun
Check out the Afton Morrison trivia challenge on Goodreads.

Freebie
Sign up for the author’s newsletter and receive a FREE copy of his short story The Matchbook.


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