Sunday, July 10, 2011

When a snarky voice haunts you...

If you're a writer, you pay attention! And start transcribing what that snarky voice tells you. :)

That's what happened with Dead to Rights, my new paranormal novel now released on Amazon and Smashwords. I couldn't silence the woman for anything. She'd yammer on, day and night.
I didn't blame her. She was lost, and confused. Waking up in a mental facility -- in a strange body -- will do that to you.

But she wasn't about to take it lying down. Clues came at her randomly, ones she didn't quite understand but instinct urged her to follow. Even if it meant joining The New Day Order, a cult led by creepy Alan Cunningham. Her gut told her Cunningham somehow could lead her to answers she needed, though she knew it meant diving headlong into danger too. Not just your garden variety, everyday danger either -- the kind that makes people's skin crawl in terror. Fear presented no obstacle; she's a fighter. :) And she has a little help from a hunky guy. Check out my Casting Call for Dead to Rights.

Here's an excerpt:
The bus drove all night. I dozed off a few times, but every bump in the road easily roused me. All the while, I couldn’t shake the feeling someone watched me. Had the group’s suspicion of me grown since I’d signed up? It didn’t seem likely, but I had to stay on guard, yet appear innocent. Not an easy feat. On high alert, my brain screamed for me to escape.

To what? I had nowhere to go. My only viable connection so far was Cunningham. Time would reveal the reason, but I guessed it wasn’t anything positive.

With a heavy breath, I scanned the faces of others. Every one slept, or tried to.

My senses pricked to extreme when I saw the man sitting three rows behind, on the opposite side. He stared openly, a strange glow in the whites of his eyes.

I jolted upright, then slumped in my seat. My heart pounded. How freaking weird. Grateful for Ellen’s insistence that we sit together, I feigned settling in to rest. Impossible with him still watching intently. And he was. I didn’t know how I knew, but I’d swear it.

The landscape changed from rural to downright deserted. The bus stopped for gas after the sun glimmered just below the horizon, streaking the clouds above with orange and red. It reminded me of smeared blood.

Blinking, Ellen lifted her head. “Are we there?”

“Not yet.” Sarcasm escaped me in the face of a stalker. Twice more, I’d glanced back, only to meet the same steady gaze. I stopped looking after that. Even if he presented no threat, maybe just looked for a little romance in all the wrong places, I wanted no part of him.

Who the hell was he anyway? He hadn’t attended any of the gatherings. How did he get on the bus, if he hadn’t gone through the process?

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