Excerpt from TRUST by Pamela Kelley

TRUST

By Pamela Kelley

SYNOPSIS:

How well do you really know your significant other? If he or she was accused of a crime, even murder, would you still trust in their innocence unconditionally?

In TRUST, 36-year-old, high school teacher Lauren, has finally put her past behind her and has found the love of her life. She is about to get married when one of her students goes missing and she becomes a person of interest.

Her fiance, David, is excited to settle down with Lauren. When the missing student turns up dead, and the media turns its attention even more closely on Lauren, David is surprised to discover that there are things he didn't know about her past. With the help of his 91 year old grandfather, who is a retired town sheriff, and his best friend Jack, the current assistant sheriff, he searches for the truth.

TRUST is set in a small, seaside town in Massachusetts and cooking helps Lauren to relax as the madness of the investigation swirls around her. In the back of the book you'll find her favorite recipe for braised short ribs (it works just as well with beef brisket too). 

PAM SAYS:

This prologue is an event that happened 20 years ago and will have an impact in this murder investigation as it will plant doubt in people's minds, even though things may not be quite the way they seem. 

EXCERPT:

Prologue 

Twenty years earlier....

     Melissa Hopkins wanted more than anything to be home in her warm bed, securely tucked under her thick down comforter. For several hours now, she'd been sitting in a small windowless room at the local police headquarters, being interrogated by the same two cops non-stop. It made her head ache, although she supposed the drinks she'd had earlier could be a contributor to that as well. 

Most of her friends had started drinking a few years ago, around age fourteen. It was common in Waverly, a beachfront community that was busy in the summer and deadly deserted in the winter months. Her friends considered her a lightweight, as she had always said no, until a few months ago on her sixteenth birthday. 

Melissa closed her eyes and tried to focus, and to remember what really happened, but her memory was a confused blur. She suspected she might have blacked out for a bit. That had happened once before when she’d been drinking vodka, and this time they had been playing quarters on the beach and doing shots. It was hard to play well on the sand, plus someone had the bright idea to mix vodka with orange juice and made the losers slug shots of the drink instead of beer. Melissa's stomach did an unhappy flip just thinking about it.

 "Melissa, your Mom is waiting outside to take you home. As soon as you tell us what we need to hear, you'll be on your way. You want to go home Melissa, don't you?"  The police officers seemed to taunt her.

One was a tough looking Irish guy in his mid-thirties, who was clearly frustrated.  The other cop was younger looking and equally irritated. They started in again, asking the questions they'd already asked, but this time she was hearing them differently.  Her mind was too tired to protest.

"Melissa, the other two boys saw you run after Nancy with the murder weapon. Your prints are all over it, along with her blood. You were mad at Nancy—you admitted that already.  You obviously did this, Melissa." 

Melissa’s head started to throb and she pressed a hand against her forehead, willing the pain to go away. "They saw me run after Nancy? Holding something?" It was so hard to focus. She had been mad at Nancy, furious even, but still, she wouldn’t have killed her. She was sure of it. But it was all a bit hazy. She remembered running, falling and then waking up to a police officer shaking her and a flashlight in her face. She was still very confused and scared and was just sober enough to know that she was in serious trouble. Was there a chance that she could have done this? The police seemed to think so, and they said they had proof.

"Yes, Melissa. Just admit you killed her; all the evidence makes it very clear. If you confess, things will go much easier for you. You could be looking at much less jail time; a huge difference Melissa. We don't think you meant to do this. You didn't mean to kill her, right Melissa?"

"No, I didn't mean to kill her." Melissa felt bewildered, like she was being pulled underwater or in some kind of surreal dream.

  "Say you killed her and you can go home. We can all go home." Their voices were kinder and softer now and Melissa really, really wanted to go home. She'd lost track of how many hours she'd been in this room, but it was much too long.

 "I guess maybe I did it, I'm not really sure. I must have though, right?"

 "Yes, good girl, Melissa. We'll go get your mother."

FIND OUT MORE:

Pamela M. Kelley lives in the historic seaside town of Plymouth, MA near Cape Cod and just south of Boston. She has always been a book worm and still reads often and widely, romance, mysteries, thrillers and cook books. She writes cozy mysteries and romances and you'll probably see food featured along with a recipe or two. She is owned by a cute little Maine Coon Cat, Kelley. 

Check out Pam's books on AMAZON
Get updates from her WEBSITE
Follow her on Twitter @PamelaMKelley

Excerpt from Something Wicked by Renee Harrell

Something Wicked

by Renee Harrell

SYNOPSIS:  

Reeling from a nasty break-up, Ann Lippens isn’t ready for a new relationship, even with someone as attractive as Cody Rhodes. When she rejects Cody's advances, the musician turns his attention to Ann's best friend, Kim.

Kim couldn't be happier. Cody is charming and mysterious, talented and sexy as hell. Who wouldn’t want to be at his side?

Within days, Kim is changing her appearance and behavior to please her new boyfriend. Ann soon discovers that Cody is the near-twin of a dead rock star named Bobby Winters. Winters had a dark and troubled history until his fiery demise. Bobby's string of girlfriends all died early, suspicious deaths.

Discovering the secret timetable for Kim's murder, Ann realizes she's the only one who can stop it. But it's not Kim who Cody truly wants....

RENEE SAYS: 

When my partner, Harrell, and I finished writing the first draft of our story, I felt something was missing. We’d written a novel with a high school-aged protagonist – Ann Lippens is our take on a less secure, more body-conscious, Nancy Drew – but the tale had taken an edgy turn. We needed an opening that offered a hint at the darkness to come.

A few days later, we’d plotted the story’s prologue. We know a lot of readers can’t stand prologues (or epilogues) and routinely skip over them. I certainly hope they read this one…

EXCERPT:

Far below them, the sea splashed against a row of jagged rocks. The ocean roared up at her.

"Isn't this beautiful?" he said. 

The warmth of his breath tickled the tiny hairs on the back of her neck. She turned to see him smiling.

For the first time in days, he appeared relaxed and happy.

"Yes. Yes, so beautiful!” Here at the cliff's edge, with the blue sea beneath her, everything seemed fresher, brighter. Her spirits lifted.

He asked her a question, his words snatched away by the sound of the ocean.

"What?" she shouted.

Irritated, he started to speak before changing his mind. He swept his arm out, his hand extended.

She reached out to him. When she did, he gathered her in his embrace. Pressing a hand on the small of her back, he began to sway.

He wants to dance, she thought.

He'd danced with her before but only once, the night they'd met. Now, he moved smoothly along the cliff's dirt surface. She matched his steps, content to follow his expert guidance.

It was romantic in a weird kind of way. Not a typical date, not by a long shot. After all, how many girls could say they’d slow-danced on Kraken's Peak?

She would remember this afternoon for the rest of her life.

He murmured as they danced. She strained to make out his words. A moment later, she realized there weren’t any words to be heard.

He was humming.

She recognized the tune. She didn’t like the song – Not that I’m going to tell him – but it was his favorite. He'd played it for her, more than once.

With a flourish, he ended the dance. He bowed to her.

As he straightened, she hugged him tightly. "This is perfect," she said into his ear.

"No." He studied her, from her red hair to the green patchwork jumper that brushed lightly against her hips. “Not yet.”

He yanked the heart-shaped locket from her neck. Staggering as the chain ripped through her hair and over her head, she caught herself at the very edge of the cliff. Beneath her shoes, tiny stones spilled into the void, tumbling into space.

She tried to step forward. He put a hand out to stop her, scorn in his eyes.

"Bye," he mouthed, his open hand shoving against her chest.

Flailing her arms desperately, her feet slid on the loose soil. She tried to regain her balance, grasping blindly for anything to stop her descent.

Screaming, she dropped over the edge of the cliff.

He watched as she fell. Her cry was lost in the thunder of the waves as they smashed into the rocks below.

"Things weren't perfect." He wrapped the chain of the locket around his fist. "Things couldn't be perfect because you weren't perfect. You could never replace the woman I loved.

“I have to get her back.”

FIND OUT MORE:  

"Renée Harrell" is the semi-pseudonym of Renée and Harrell Turner, a wife-and-husband writing team. Although we primarily write YA fiction, we've dabbled in science fiction (Aly's Luck and After Things Went Bad), teleplays (Bill Shakespeare's Next Big Mistake) and humorous mystery (Frankenstein, P.I.).

Check out their website HERE and find their books on AMAZON.

Excerpt from ONE GOLD HEART by Sadie Haller

Synopsis 

Mac Wallis agrees to join the wind quintet, Dominant Cord, for the Christmas concert season as a favour to an old friend. It's her first step towards recovery after a vicious attack more than a decade before. However, sparks fly when Dominant Cord's unofficial leader, flutist, Finn Taylor takes issue with Mac's reliance on medication in order to perform.

Mac can't understand why the asshole who so completely humiliated her at their first rehearsal keeps showing up in her late-night fantasies as the Dom of her dreams. It's not even like he's the good kind of bad boy.

After his marriage ended in disaster, Finn tries to steer clear of damaged women, but as a Dom, he feels compelled put aside his own hang-up to help Mac reclaim her independence and her former life.

A note of warning, this story contains material not suitable for readers under 18.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sadie Says:  Mac has suffered a nightmare and her screaming wakes Finn and their friend, Sully. This excerpt takes place shortly after Finn and Sully have calmed Mac down and Sully has returned to his own bed.  What makes this scene special for me? Finn kisses Mac for the first time.  

Excerpt

Finn thought hard. Talk about walking a fine line. What to ask that pushes the envelope without tearing it? He needed to make this question count because he didn't want to make her shut down.

"Right then, let's go for an easy one. What's your favourite part of a man's body. Where do your eyes go first when you meet a man you find interesting?"

"I check out the upper arms. I like them to be muscular, but not in a body-builder way. If a guy needs to flex his biceps in the mirror, his arms are too muscular. I want to feel like those arms are for holding me and keeping me safe, not for his own personal eye-candy."

"I can assure you that I never flex any of my muscles in a mirror. I'm going to cheat a bit, and ask a follow up question. How would you rate my arms?"

Finn resisted the groan that threatened when Mac reached up and gave his left biceps a bit of a squeeze.

"I'd say you're well within acceptable muscular parameters."

"That's a relief. Your turn to ask me something."

"Same question."

"My favourite part on a man's body is..."

Mac giggled. "Smart-ass. You know what I meant."

Finn toyed with giving a less provocative answer, but he refused to be anything less than completely honest.

"Okay, I'd have to say lips. They're so very versatile."

"I buy that."

Finn watched with interest as Mac caught her lower lip in her teeth and screwed her eyes shut. He waited patiently for her to resolve her inner conflict.

With her eyes still squeezed shut, she said, "You got a follow up, so it's only fair that I do too. How would you rate my lips?"

She'd no sooner got the words out and her face was buried into his shoulder.

Finn just about stopped breathing. It was the logical follow up, but that she'd asked it had him scrambling for an answer that would satisfy her, but not scare the shit out of her. Finally, he went with his instincts.

He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger and gently guided her face to meet his. He paused for a moment and looked into her eyes before touching his lips to hers. "Kissable, most definitely kissable," he declared. He gave her another, slightly longer kiss before releasing her chin.

For more on Sadie Haller, check out her books on:  

Amazon - http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00H3QA5MM

B&N - http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/2940149024544

And you can get updates about Sadie and her writing by visiting her website: http://www.sadiehaller.com or following her on Twitter: @SadieHallersPen 

Book Guys and Motivate to Create

Cool!  The book discussion website/podcast Book Guys  recently had a nice little discussion about The Lies Have It (book #3 in the Sasha Jackson mystery series). Sounds like Paul really enjoyed the book... but maybe that's because of the awesome souvenir he picked up at the launch party way back when... 

Have a listen (Paul and the guys discuss The Lies Have It from ~ minute 1:00 to minute 10:00), and be sure to check out their other episodes.  They always have a wide arrange to titles and topics of interest to readers of all stripes.  Here's the link: 
http://bookguys.ca/blog/book-guys-show-episode-025-the-lies-have-it

- - -

In other news: This week, I was a guest at the Motivate to Create blog.  I discuss writing and getting started, and why you don't need to start at the beginning.  Check it out HERE.  

Excerpt from Hamelin's Child by DJ Bennett

Hamelin's Child 

By DJ Bennett

SYNOPSIS:

Michael Redford died on his seventeenth birthday – the night Eddie picked him up off the street, shot him full of heroin and assaulted him. 

Now he’s Mikey and he works for Joss. With streaked blond hair and a cute smile, he sleeps by day and services clients at night. Sometimes he remembers his old life, but with what he’s become now, he knows there is no return to his comfortable middle-class background.

Then he makes a friend in Lee. A child of the streets, Lee demands more from friendship than Mikey is prepared to give. But the police are closing in on them now and Mikey’s not sure anymore who he really is – streetwise Mikey or plain Michael Redford.

A thriller set in the seedy world of London's drug rings, this book contains strong scenes and adult material.

DEBBIE SAYS:

This is a scene from chapter 8, where a slightly-dubious Michael is getting a lesson in heroin use. He’s still at the stage where he’s rational and sensible enough to know this is a bad idea, but his body is already telling him otherwise. This was a fascinating scene to write as I wanted to get right inside Michael’s head and yet keep it all rather matter-of-fact, because that’s how it works in this place. I do have hands-on experience with drugs (from a law enforcement angle) so I wanted to try to use some of that knowledge but describe it from the other side, so to speak.

EXCERPT:

‘OK, Mikey. Take a seat.’ Joss pulled out a chair and Michael sat down. ‘Lesson one,’ said Joss as he peeled back a piece of the brown tape on the bag, ‘is that you never ever take gear from anyone except me.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because you don’t know where it’s been,’ Joss explained patiently. ‘And don’t look so sceptical, Mikey. I’m about to tell you why.’ With a teaspoon, he collected a little of the powder from the hole he’d revealed under the tape – it was grey-white in colour with a floury consistency.

‘This is about ninety percent pure,’ he continued, placing the powder on one of the dishes on the scales. ‘The crap you buy on the streets can get as low as fifteen or twenty percent or less.’ He selected a weight and balanced the scales, scraping a little off the top of the powder and replacing it in the bag. ‘The rest of the mix can be anything from caffeine to talcum powder – neither of which will do you any good at all.’

He produced an even tinier spoon from the box with the scales. Picking up one of the ampoules of liquid, he snapped the neck between his thumb and forefinger and carefully spooned the powder into the top. ‘If you take gear which contains something your body can’t deal with, it might kill you,’ he said, shaking the ampoule gently. ‘And believe me, Mikey, nobody wants you dead.’

No? Michael risked a glance at Eddie, but he wasn’t watching.

Joss held the ampoule up to his eye and examined the contents. ‘Lesson two, is that you always use a clean syringe and needle.’ He glanced up briefly. ‘I’m sure I don’t have to explain the reasoning behind that, do I?’ He smiled and Michael wondered what the hell he was getting into. The longer he sat here, the less he wanted any of this stuff inside him. But just looking at it, he could feel his body reacting in anticipation, an almost sexual thrill making the hairs on his arms stand up.

Michael was amazed at the lengths Joss was going to. He’d thought drug addiction was all shared needles and AIDS. He wondered where the heroin came from in the first place, but decided he was better off not knowing. He’d seenMidnight Express on dvd once and it was not a pretty film.

Joss handed him the ampoule and he sat there stupidly, not knowing what to do with it. The man ripped open one of the sealed plastic bags and pulled out a syringe. With the same careless flick of the wrist, he snapped open the top of a tube and placed the orange-capped needle over the end of the hypodermic. Then he took the ampoule out of Michael’s fingers and laughed.

‘Say something, Mikey.’

‘Such as?’ He couldn’t keep the sarcasm from his voice.

‘I don’t know. This is your shot, so how about please?’

FIND OUT MORE:

THIS LINK is a youtube video of Soul Asylum’s Runaway Train. This was always the music for this novel (yes, I’m weird like that), but it wasn’t until much later that I saw the video which is a scarily accurate depiction of the book!  Check out DJ online: www.debbiebennett.co.uk or www.authorselectric.co.uk.  You can order Debbie's books on AMAZON click HERE, and follow DJ on Twitter @debjbennett 

Excerpt from Threaded Through Time: Book One by Sarah Ettritch

SYNOPSIS:

“For those who were born before or after their time...”

That described Pam. She’d always felt that she’d been born too late—there was no chivalry in the world anymore. 

She’d only wanted to commune with the universe while reading a “moon rhyme” in the antique book she’d purchased from the local New Age shop. She had not expected guests—especially not Jasper and Margaret, summoned one hundred years into the future by the rhyme just as Jasper was proposing to Margaret. 

Now the displaced visitors insist that they be returned to 1910, and Pam and her roommate Robin agree. But the rhyme won’t work until the next moon cycle, and in the intervening month, forbidden love blooms between Pam and Jasper, and Robin and Margaret.

SARAH SAYS:

In this passage, Pam (a modern woman) and Jasper (a man from 1910) discuss Pam’s roommate Robin. Jasper doesn’t know that Robin is a lesbian. I chose the passage because it illustrates how attitudes and word meanings can change over time. When writing the book, I researched the etymology of many words. I didn’t want the characters from 1910 to use words they wouldn’t know about. As Jasper and Margaret spent more time in the present day, it became less of an issue.

EXCERPT:

“Are you happy, Pam?”

His question caught her off guard. “Well, yes, for the most part. I admit, I’d be happier with a man in my life. If I didn’t have Robin, I’d be lonely. But I haven’t settled for someone I don’t love just so I won’t be alone when Robin moves out. I’d rather be lonely than settle.”

“But you want to marry.”

“Oh, yes. Definitely.”

Jasper grunted. “Robin’s a queer woman, isn’t she?”

Shock made her voice shrill. “What makes you say that?” Wait. “Oh, you mean odd.” When he nodded, her heart stopped pounding.

“She’s not . . . feminine,” Jasper said.

“Why, because she wears her hair short and prefers pants to dresses? That’s not unusual today, Jasper. Okay, she doesn’t wear makeup or jewelry either, but so what? She’s her own person.”

“I didn’t mean to criticize her,” Jasper said, motioning for Pam to calm down.

“Then don’t judge her by how she looks!” Pam took a deep breath, reminded herself that she was sitting with someone from another time. “Listen, I can see how she might seem unusual to you. But I love her to bits. I know we’re not blood-related, but she’s family, the only family I’ve got. I’d do anything for her, and I know she’d do the same for me. So I can get a little defensive about her.”

“I apologize. Robin is a most gracious host. And so are you.”

Flattery would get him everywhere. “Apology accepted.”

“Do you think she’ll marry?”

“I hope she does.” Robin would probably marry before Pam did—if she stopped worrying about her useless family and started living for herself. Jasper’s lost love, his future tepid marriage to Margaret, Robin eventually meeting a nice woman and moving out . . . what a depressing conversation! “But enough chit-chat. Let’s shoot some pool. Or are you afraid of losing?”

He snorted and pushed back his chair.

FIND OUT MORE:

Sarah Ettritch writes science fiction, fantasy, and mystery stories
featuring strong female characters. You can find out more about Sarah and
her books at http://www.sarahettritch.com . You can buy Threaded Through
Time at Amazon (http://www.amazon.com/dp/B005AJ9FJS ), and folow her on Twitter @SarahEttritch  

Excerpt from Harps and Tears by Phil Rowan

Harps and Tears 
by Phil Rowan

SYNOPSIS:

Harps & Tears is a dark humour thriller that centres on Bronkovski: a Polish American nuclear scientist whose wife left him for a Jewish environmentalist. He is furious, and intent on revenge against the state of Israel. When we meet him, he is making a nuclear bomb in rural Ireland's West Cork for ruthless Islamic activists.

Briefly ...
We start with US journalist Rudi Flynn arriving in Dublin. His editor in New York is really into the Land of the Harp. She wants all he can send her on Celtic Tigers and New Irish Women. Flynn, however, is more interested in a lead he has on the embittered nuclear scientist, Bronkovski, and what he may be up to in West Cork.

Our frequently wayward journalist is lured in and seduced by Irish charm and blarney - although he is aware of a powerful Dublin businessman, who knows Bronkovski, and who has politicians and cops in his pocket. Flynn's local contact, Muldoon, is up for a bit of devious blackmail, and our guy's hotel receptionist, Siobhan, agrees to seduce and probe the emotionally challenged nuclear scientist. Middle East money is funding an assassin in West Cork, while in Dublin an Israeli academic is targeted. There are ruthless rogues everywhere, but Flynn has a few cool female allies - and as his local contact takes a crucial call, mayhem is averted in rural Ireland.

PHIL SAYS:

In the piece below from my Harps & Tears story, my character Flynn is talking to Claire at a Dublin cafe. They have only just met when she tells him a little about Hans - a previous owner of  the cafe. He was once, she says, an SS guard at Auschwitz. But when the Dutch requested his extradition, the Irish Government stalled, and after a while Hans disappeared to Brazil. What interests me about this piece is that it is actually based on a true story. The Dutch man, Hans, had a cafe in Dublin called The New Amsterdam. He had been an SS guard at Auschwitz and showed his appreciation to the Irish Government, who let him stay for a while in Dublin, by presenting the Dublin Gardai with untrained wolf hounds who bit everyone - including their handlers - during Cuban missile crisis demonstrations.

EXCERPT:

'I'm Claire,' the friendly woman beside me at a Dublin cafe says when we've smiled at each other. She has interesting blonde hair and she's folding down a page on what looks like an accountancy manual.

            'And I have an assessment this evening,' she explains.

            'Ah –'

            Well, I'm Rudi, and I'm here ostensibly to cover the New Ireland. Only I want you to stop me if I start talking about my wife, Angela, who recently went off with her friend Eva ... because  all of this has left me floundering like an emotional wreck who needs serious help.

            'This is an interesting place,' Claire says when I order coffee with a croissant.

I'm trying to be cool as I take in her dark red heels and a small dolphin that's tattooed discreetly around her finely boned left ankle.

            'You bet –'

            'No ... I mean here – where we're sitting.'

            OK – it's a cafe with a courtyard, where maybe an Irish poet sat and agonised over verses that might one day immortalise the guy or his girl, or the occasional bliss of living.

            Am I being sceptical, or what? A French chain now owns the cafe, which is called La Laguna. Once though, according to Claire, the proprietor was a charismatic Dutchman called Hans. He came to Dublin in the early fifties, where he was regarded initially as a novelty, for he was a tall, gentlemanly sort of guy who spoke with a funny continental accent. His wife, Elsa, apparently made nice pastries, and his fashionable coffee bar was a popular meeting place for well-heeled women who wanted to meet and socialise in agreeable places.

            'It was looking good for Hans,' Claire tells me, 'but then an Auschwitz survivor came forward to declare that our Dutchman had been a guard at the infamous concentration camp. The authorities in Holland apparently wanted to interview him in connection with several hundred wartime deaths.'

            During his time in Dublin, however, Hans made some influential friends – particularly amongst the wives of politicians from the nearby parliament buildings at Leinster House. So the Irish Government refused a Hague request for extradition on the grounds that the evidence was tenuous. While Hans claimed it was all down to mistaken identity.

            Later, according to Claire, when the fuss died down, the Dutchman decided that he wanted to make a small gesture of appreciation to his Irish friends. His 'thank you' came as three large pedigree Alsatian dogs, which he presented to the Commissioner of the Garda.

'My mam said there were pictures of him in all our newspapers on the day he handed over the dogs at the Garda Headquarters in the Phoenix Park,' she tells me. 'They were fine, expensive animals by all accounts – only they hadn't been trained for anything in particular. So when they were let loose on a crowd outside the American Embassy during the Cuban Missile Crisis, they bit everyone they could get their teeth into, including their clueless Garda handlers ... would you credit that?'

I'm sitting speechless with my coffee cup suspended over the saucer and my croissant untouched on the plate in front of me.

            

FIND OUT MORE:

Check out Phil's WEBSITE
Order his books on AMAZON
Follow him on Twitter @WriterRowan

Excerpt from Mirtis Tod by Karen Wodke

Mirtis Tod

By Karen Wodke

SYNOPSIS:

Mirtis Tod is not well. Her friend, Chet, convinces her to see a doctor. Dr. Olum is very intrigued by her condition, so much so that he wants to keep her hospitalized against her will. Mirtis doesn't trust the medical staff and escapes. But physicians are not the only ones pursuing her. A dark, hooded figure stalks her as well. If you like your tales a bit on the strange side, you will enjoy this novelette.

KAREN SAYS:

I enjoyed writing this story and only regretted that it couldn’t be a longer tale. Because of Mirtis’s condition, however, it was necessary to be brief.  This scene is one of my favorites because it shows the nature of the friendship between Mirtis and Chet. He does his best to help her and sticks with her even though she has a bizarre and ghastly problem, one with seemingly no solution. 

EXCERPT:

“The first thing we’re going to do is get you a bath. Honey, you smell like you spent the night in a sewer!” Chet guided her to the bathroom and fussed around, running water in the tub and laying out towels.

Mirtis leaned tiredly against the doorjamb, watching him with bleary eyes.

“Here now, this will make you feel better.” He opened a jar and breathed deeply of its contents. “Eucalyptus and mint bath salts. My favorite for curing exhaustion.” He sprinkled them liberally under the flow of water. A light froth formed. “Smell that?”

Mirtis shook her head. Her joints creaked with the movement. “I remember how it smells, but I don’t actually smell it.”

“Well, at least you remember it.” Chet replaced the salts on the shelf and turned to Mirtis. “Let’s get you out of those clothes.”

He helped her undress and supported her as she lowered her body into the water. There she sat lethargically, staring straight ahead. Without a word, Chet soaped a washcloth and smoothed it over her back and under her arms. “You’re a bit bloated around your torso.”

“I know,” she said. “I feel like a gas bag.”

He shook his head and continued scrubbing her. Then he washed her hair and rinsed it, conditioned it, and rinsed it again. Taking a seat on the toilet, he crossed his legs and propped his chin on his hand. He thought they’d chat as she soaked, but she drifted off as if daydreaming. For almost fifteen minutes, they sat in silence. Finally, Chet urged her from the tub, dried her off with a fluffy aqua towel, and dressed her in a pair of his jogging pants and a t-shirt. In spite of the hot bath, her skin was ice cold.

He planted her on one end of his sofa, slid some socks on her feet, and wrapped a blanket around her. “Would you like some herbal tea?”

“No, thank you.” She stared at him. “Do I still stink?”

Chet chewed his lip, torn between tact and honesty. Ignoring her question, he asked, “What did the doctor say that scared you so badly?”

Mirtis wanted to frown, but her eyebrows barely moved. “He said I’m dead.”

“He said what?” Chet’s voice rose.

“Dead.” Mirtis stroked the blanket, mildly surprised she could not detect its softness.

“Well, he’s a quack then!” Chet paced back and forth. “Some kind of a nut!”

“He said I have no heartbeat. I was afraid I’d end up in the morgue, or in a grave.” She leaned her head back and stared at the ceiling. “I just had to get out of there.” 

FIND OUT MORE:

Karen Wodke is an author living in the Midwest. Mirtis Tod is her second novella. Her first publication was a book for readers of all ages titled James Willis Makes a Million. Karen is also half of the writing team of Wodke Hawkinson, whose novels include Betrayed, Zeke, Sue, and Tangerine. She and co-author, PJ Hawkinson, are in final edits on their next book, and Karen is also busy on another solo project. You can connect with the author on Twitter at @WodkeHawkinson.  Purchase link for Mirtis Tod

Excerpt from: The Plot to Save Socrates (Book #1 in Sierra Waters series) by Paul Levinson

The Plot to Save Socrates 

By Paul Levinson

Synopsis:

In the year 2042, Sierra Waters, a young graduate student in Classics, is shown a new dialog of Socrates, recently discovered, in which a time traveler tries to argue that Socrates might escape death by travel to the future. Thomas, the elderly scholar who has shown her the document, disappears, and Sierra immediately begins to track down the provenance of the manuscript with the help of her classical scholar boyfriend, Max.

The trail leads her to time machines in gentlemen's clubs in London and in New York, and into the past--and to a time traveler from the future, posing as Heron of Alexandria in 150 AD. Complications, mysteries, travels, and time loops proliferate as Sierra tries to discern who is planning to save the greatest philosopher in human history. Fascinating historical characters from Alcibiades to William Henry Appleton, the great nineteenth-century American publisher, to Hypatia, Plato, and Socrates himself appear.

Paul says:

The death of Alcibiades was one of key moments of ancient history.  He was indeed set upon in the company of a concubine, and fought naked with a sword in hand.   I really enjoyed writing the scene, with its different outcome, for The Plot to Save Socrates.  As Socrates’ beloved student, Alcibiades would have no doubt played a crucial role in any plot to save his mentor.

Excerpt:

Alcibiades woke up suddenly.  He sighed, started to fall back asleep, then heard the sound again.   He had been sleeping, naked, half on top of a Persian woman, also naked and sound asleep on her stomach.  He had met her just this afternoon -- or was it already yesterday afternoon?  He could not recall exactly when they had met or her name.

He moved himself carefully -- not to avoid waking her, because, with the amount of wine she had consumed, it might well take a thunderclap in her ear to wake her.  He moved slowly off of her back and over on to his own because he did not want to make any noise that might give him away, and let any possible intruder know he was here and awake.

Alcibiades now quickly and quietly got to his feet and looked around.

A figure stepped forward from a far corner.

Alcibiades looked for where he had left his knife -- alas, it was on the other side of the unconscious Persian beauty.   He looked at her flowing hair and cursed.  He had gotten up on the wrong side of their bed.

"There is no need for weapons, I assure you, not now," the figure stepped closer and said, in a very peculiar yet comprehensible Greek.

"Why?  My situation is hopeless?" Alcibiades looked around the room.

"No," the figure said.  "Just the opposite -- I'm here to save you."

"From whom?"

"I will explain later.  For now, you must ready yourself."

* * *

Alcibiades dressed.

The figure looked at the supine form.  "She has attractive lines."

Alcibiades smirked.  "Are you a Pythagorean?"

"In a manner of speaking, perhaps yes."

The two walked into an adjoining room, and took seats at at an empty table.

"Are you hungry?" Alcibiades asked.

"I could eat.  Thank you.  But we must be quick."

Alcibiades rose, opened the door to a different room, and summoned a slave.

"You enjoy the Phrygian hospitality?" the visitor inquired.

"Are you still thinking about that lovely line in the next room, or the food and drink to come?"

"Both," the visitor answered.

"Well, then, I should say that I do very much enjoy the hospitality, but I loathe being in this Persian land. I intend to return to Athens shortly."

"That is precisely why your life is in danger tonight," the visitor said.

"Oh?  You have yet to tell me from whom."

"I am not sure," the figure answered. "History says the Spartans are behind this.  You have some enemies in Athens, too, as you know.  But those specifics really do not matter.  Your beloved mentor, Socrates, will be sentenced to death by his own people -- your people, those same Athenian people -- in five years.   Were I not here, you would meet your death tonight.  In a sense, you still will -- except, I have a plan that will also enable you to live."

Alcibiades laughed, shook his head, snorted--

The slave returned with fruit, bread, knives, and wine.

Alcibiades dismissed him.

The visitor took wine.

Alcibiades took a knife, as if to cut a fruit, then swiftly moved around the table and put the knife to his visitor's neck. He held him close with his elbow and other arm.

Alcibiades was lean and about 45 years of age.  The visitor was at least 20 years older and softer.  The visitor was at a disadvantage.

***

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Paul Levinson, PhD, is Professor of Communication & Media Studies at Fordham University in NYC.  His nonfiction books, including The Soft Edge (1997), Digital McLuhan (1999), Realspace (2003), Cellphone (2004), and New New Media (2009; 2nd edition, 2012), have been translated into ten languages.  His science fiction novels include The Silk Code (winner of Locus Award for Best First Science Fiction Novel of 1999, author’s cut ebook 2012), Borrowed Tides (2001), The Consciousness Plague (2002, 2013), The Pixel Eye (2003), The Plot To Save Socrates (2006, 2012), and Unburning Alexandria (2013) - the last two of which are historical as well as science fiction.  He appears on CNN, MSNBC, Fox News, the Discovery Channel, National Geographic, the History Channel, NPR, and numerous TV and radio programs.  His 1972 LP, Twice Upon a Rhyme, was re-issued in 2010.  He reviews television in his InfiniteRegress.tv blog, and was listed in The Chronicle of Higher Education's "Top 10 Academic Twitterers" in 2009.  

For more about Paul Levinson, find him on his blog, browse his books on Amazon, follow him on Twitter @PaulLev .