ON
SALE
A Higher Voice
by Sheri
Wren Haymore
The Kindle edition of A Higher Voice is ON SALE for $3.99 (save $5.00) to 5 February to celebrate the release
of the author's new book, A Deeper Cut.
Description
Legendary rock
singer Britt Jordan is at the pinnacle of his career - at least as far as the
world knows. But Britt’s voice is failing and a terrible event in his past
haunts him every moment. He thinks that his life is a hopeless shipwreck … until
the night he is stopped dead in his tracks by a woman’s smile.
With the same
determination that propelled him to stardom, he begins to create a new life
with Dena and her daughter, Bonnie. Britt’s presence in Dena’s life brings more
than paparazzi, however. His baggage includes a brother who wants to destroy
him and a stalker intent on killing his wife. Willing to sacrifice any price to
save his family, he finally must find a higher plane on which to face his past
and his future.
Excerpt
He could have sworn
somebody had crammed an electric guitar inside his head. A racket screamed
between his ears—half-music and half-insanity—and a riff repeated amongst his
tonsils that threatened to drag his gut up to his throat. The racket and nausea
had begun to plague him six months ago, and damn if he knew how to pull the
plug.
Britt Jordan kicked
away the tangle of sweat-soaked sheets, bounded from the bed, and staggered
across his dimly lit hotel suite. Bypassing the bar that had been stocked just
for his taste, he yanked open the refrigerator door and grabbed a pitcher of
ice water. Plunging his hand into it, he splashed a good douse of freezing
water onto his face. Twice.
“Aaihh!” he
screamed, pounding the wall with his fist. Throwing up, he had learned, did
nothing to dispel the nausea that accompanied the racket. Ice water and a good,
gut-deep scream, now that helped.
The door of the
suite’s adjoining room opened, and in stumbled Britt’s assistant, tugging on
drawstring pajama bottoms, blonde hair tousled. “God, Britt, it’s five
o’clock.”
“And a jolly good
morning to you, too, Darrell,” answered Britt in his distinct, morning-raspy
voice that had made rock and roll history for over two decades.
Darrell glanced at
Britt’s bed, which hadn’t been shared with anyone since the previous summer.
“What you need is a woman,” he advised.
“What I need is a
car. Get me one.”
Darrell switched on
a light and the two men squinted at each other. “A car? What for?” Darrell
asked, looking his boss over suspiciously.
Britt grinned.
Tormenting Darrell always started his day off with a bang. He was still holding
the pitcher, water dripping from the three-day stubble on his chin and running
down his bare chest. “To drive. Where am I, by the way?”
Exasperation crossed
Darrell’s face. “Britt, you’ve got a show tonight.”
“Right. So if you’ll
tell me where I am and where I’m supposed to be tonight, I’ll just drive myself
on in.” Britt made a sweeping motion with his free hand, palm down.
“You’ll get lost. Go
back to bed.” Darrell turned to leave.
Britt was fast. In
one beat, he had Darrell by the arm, the pitcher poised over his assistant’s
head. “Where am I?” he demanded, slopping a good measure of frigid water over
Darrell.
“Damn it, Britt,
stop,” croaked Darrell, ducking. “Richmond, Virginia. Your jet is here. Your
bodyguard. Me. You know you’re not driving off into the sunrise without us.”
“Yeah, I am.” Britt
doused his assistant with some more water. “As soon as you tell me where my
show is tonight.”
Darrell squirmed in
Britt’s grasp. He tried to bring his boss to the floor with a kick to the
inside of his knee, and when that didn’t work, he made a grab for the pitcher.
“Why do you need to know?”
“I have a great need
to conquer the open road.”
“I don’t trust you,”
said Darrell, finally getting a grip on the pitcher. “The name Britt Jordan is
not exactly synonymous with ‘navigational wizard.’ You’ll end up in
Pennsylvania.”
“Instead of where?”
Britt asked. Both men had a grip on the pitcher, and Britt gave it a hearty
tug, splashing them both in the face. “Tell me or I’ll fire you.”
“You’ve already
fired me twelve times this tour,” said Darrell, wiping water from his eyes,
“and given me three raises.”
“Really?” Britt
asked, astounded. “Then you owe me an answer. Hurry up, boy. The open road
beckons.”
“I don’t think
there’s much open road in the South.”
“Aha! Where did we
book in the South?” Britt released Darrell and walked over to the window, still
holding the pitcher. He yanked aside the curtain and stared at the pre-dawn city
below. “Now I remember. Greensboro, Columbia, Atlanta, then break for
Christmas,” he recited triumphantly. “North Carolina. If I can just figure out
which way is south, I’m bound to hit it eventually.”
Darrell shook his
head and started from the room. “Go back to bed. You can drive all you want
after Atlanta.”
Britt turned from
the window. “Today,” he said. “I’m driving today. Get me a car now.”
Sighing in defeat,
Darrell padded off into his own room to phone the front desk.
Britt’s physical
presence didn’t overwhelm people. He was not a tall man, and while his compact,
athletic build and reckless good looks kept the fans in awe, it didn’t give him
control over his staff. It was his dogged determination and pure, endless drive
that kept them hopping around him.
Catching his
reflection in the mirror, Britt slowly raised the pitcher over his head. Britt
Jordan was worth a hundred million as far as Uncle Sam knew; only Britt knew
the value of his off-shore holdings. He could afford a thousand distractions an
hour. But he had not found a single thing his money could buy that would shut
up the racket in his head. Without flinching, he dumped the rest of the water
over his head in one cold, baptizing shower that streamed from his tangled hair
and drenched his boxer shorts.
“Aaihh!” he screamed
again, longer and louder than before.
“You’re insane,
Britt!” shouted Darrell from the adjoining room.
Britt blinked water
from his eyes. “Not anymore.”
Praise for A Higher Voice
“If you can only buy one book this month . . . Buy this one! It will take
you places you can only imagine and you’ll believe in happy endings again.”
“Thank you Ms. Haymore for giving us a book we can read again and again
and never tire of. In the spirit of such books as Gone With the Wind and Sense and Sensibility, this book is timeless.”
— Melanie Adkins, reviewer
for “Have You Heard Reviews”
*
“Haymore has a deft touch with dialogue, and has created complex
characters, an intricate plot, and protagonists you root for all the way. It’s
a classic mystery thriller with a twist. Satisfying echoes of Mary Higgins
Clark. I look forward to Haymore’s next book.”
— Beth Westmark, published
essayist for “The Broiler: A Journal of New Literature” and “Emerald Coast
Review”
*
“A Higher Voice is a sprawling
novel filled with well-defined characters, excellent descriptions, and a
gripping story of romance and suspense . . . Readers, no matter what they
believe, will be caught up in the dramatic story and find themselves hoping the
appealing characters will succeed in overcoming their difficulties.”
— Jane Tesh, author of the
Madeline Maclin Mysteries and The Grace Street Series
*
“A Higher Voice is such a wonderfully engrossing tale.”
“The author is able to pull the reader into the story so deeply, the outside
world ceases to exist… Haymore is an author to watch.”
— Michelle Willms, editor
and journalist
About the Author
Sheri grew up in Mt. Airy, NC, and still lives thereabouts with her
husband and a pup named Cercie. Together, they’ve made a living running a
couple of small business, and made a life doing the things they enjoy - traveling,
hiking, camping, kayaking. Sheri loves music and yoga, inventing gourmet meals
from random ingredients, laughing with friends, and most especially spending
time with her daughter. A graduate of High Point University, she has burned
more pages than most people will ever write, and is currently scribbling a
third novel, which may or may not survive the flames.
Links
