Tar VBT

Blurb:

Brendan Cobb calls it tar, but there might be as many names for it as cities left standing.

To some, it’s known as filth, or blight. Others call it the Black God in reverential whispers. Whatever name it takes, the effects are the same. Cities left in ruins. People turned into monsters. Living infections with no known cure. The best anyone can do is avoid it, but even that gets harder the more it spreads.

Brendan survives this waking nightmare by trading salvage for shelter and for repairs to his cybernetic arm, until a newcomer arrives, convinced Brendan is the key to ridding the world of tar once and for all. Reluctantly, Brendan and his mechanic join the newcomer on a journey across the desolate highways of a ruined world, where he learns the true history of the tar…and of the dark power inside him, which grows stronger every day.

Excerpt:

I know who you are, and I know with whom you travel.

The voice thundered across the expanse, bringing with it a powerful wind. Out of the corner of his eye, Brendan saw the tree bend under its force, and then break apart and turn to dust. This was the voice from his dream at Krystal’s house, the voice from his journey to Tir Anhrefnus with Alicia.

Your companion wishes to destroy this, for he finds it evil.

A form rose amid the tentacles. It had a recognizable head and body, but the waving tendrils and branching threads rendered the creature completely alien.

But there is no evil here, only hunger. To sate an appetite is not evil. The wizard you follow only sees evil because he has found something he cannot control. He does not seek justice. He seeks safety. He is not noble. He is afraid.

The voice buffeted Brendan like a hurricane, gaining strength until its power knocked him onto his back. The dusty earth gave way beneath Brendan. He plummeted into the fresh pit, and he watched the tar trace a network of paths across the sky until what little light remained was blotted out by the black infection.

Tell me which is more evil: Destruction out of hunger, or destruction out of fear?

Taylor, thanks so much for stopping by. Tell us a little about yourself.

Thanks for having me! Tar is my fifth full-length novel, which just came out November 27. When I’m not at my keyboard banging out another book, I’m at my day job, which is a total blast. I’m a morning show host and program director at a Christian radio station in Des Moines. So that means I spend the first half of my day telling stories and jokes with my awesome co-host, and then the rest of my day is spent making sure the station sounds as good as possible. It’s a demanding job, but really rewarding. If I’m not writing or working, I’m watching movies with my wife, hitting the gym, or reading whatever my latest Kindle find has been.

How did you get started writing?

I’ve always been drawn to stories. I remember drawing comic books on pieces of scrap paper, then stapling them together and trying to sell them door to door. I had a group of friends in junior high who all got involved on FanFiction.Net, and we all wrote stories together, many of which featured each other as main characters. It was after I got married that I really started pursuing the publication route, though. I’d always enjoyed writing, so the idea of having one of my books in actual print was a pretty cool idea. So I basically decided I was going to sit down and write every day until I had a new book on my hands. That was Alpha, which was the first book I self-published. Since then, I’ve published something new every year, and I’ve been having a blast doing it.

What was the inspiration for Tar?

Maybe it was the Desden Files. I think that was the first time I read about a wizard carrying around a shotgun, and I just thought that was the coolest thing ever. I didn’t sit down and say, “Yeah, I should make another Dresden Files,” but I did say, “Man, a book where a wizard with a shotgun goes on a road trip would be a blast to write.” That was an idea that really energized me, so I started with that little kernel and built out from there. By the time I was done, I’d created this weird, cyberpunk/urban fantasy/post-apocalyptic world with monsters and wizards and cybernetics, and I was even more energized than I was when I first had the idea. I am absolutely pumped to finally be able to share this with people.

What’s a genre you haven’t written in yet that you’d like to?

I’d like to tell a really good haunted house story, or just a good ghost story in general. Like, really drill down to the essence of these types of stories and put just a tiny twist on them to make them fresh. I don’t have a great idea for one yet, but the minute I do, I’ll probably start scribbling away.

Are there any genres you won’t read or write in? Why?

Historical fiction is just not my jam. I need monsters or aliens or ghosts or robots, or some combination of all four in my books…whether I’m reading them or writing them. Also, half the reason I write soft science fiction is that I don’t like doing research.

What are you up to now? Do you have any releases planned, or are you still writing?

I’m pretty much always working on something. I think there were like three or four weeks after I finished Tar that I really truly took time off working on a project of some sort. My current project is an end-of-the-world comedy. So, I’m still sticking to the apocalypse, which I’ve done for the last four books now, only this time things aren’t quite as dark as they’ve been. It’s a change of pace from my last few for sure, but it’s been really fun changing my tone a bit and using some different tools to solve different problems.

Alright, now for some random, fun questions. Favorite color?

Black. Everyone tells me that’s not a color, but I don’t care. Every color looks cooler when it’s next to black. And I look cooler when I’m in black. Anything that makes me look cooler is a winner in my book.

Favorite movie?

If I want to feel deep and intellectual? Cloud Atlas. If I want to have fun? Scott Pilgrim vs. The World.

Book that inspired you to become an author?

I don’t know if it inspired me to become an author, but I read Stephen King’s IT while I was writing my first published novel Alpha, which I mentioned earlier. It was the most I’d loved a book in a long time, and I just kept imagining writing a book that would make other people feel the way I felt when I read IT. That’s what drives me with every book I write. I’m an entertainer at heart. My job has me performing live radio every morning, I’ve obviously written a few books, and I’ve played drums in my share of bands. As different as all of those media are, the thing that remains the same is that I love creating things that make people feel things.

You have one superpower. What is it?

Mind-reading. Underrated power for sure.

You can have dinner with any 3 people, dead, alive, fictitious, etc. Who are they?

1.     Have you picked up on how I’m a Stephen King fanboy yet? Because I’d totally sit down to dinner with him. I want to play just one song in his all-author band someday, and I would spend dinnertime simultaneously fanboying and auditioning.

2.    My cousin, Josh. He was one of my best friends, and I lost him this past spring. We never lived very close together, except for a couple years when we went to the same college and took the same major, but he was the kind of friend who you could pick up right where you left off every time you see him.

3.    My wife. She is truly my best friend, and being with her is just like breathing to me. Sometimes I don’t even think about how much I need that time with her, and sometimes it’s hard to be with her because there’s all this junk in the airway of my life…but when we make time to spend together—I mean, really spend together, not just browse Facebook on the same couch—I just come alive so much more.

Last question: Which of your characters are you most like and how/why?

This is a tough question, because I don’t really think of any characters as being a lot like me. Each one has a little piece of me in them, but I’ve never really tried to create someone that really behaves like me. I think I’d be boring in my types of stories. I’d just cower in the corner and ask if I can read my book and have a cup of coffee yet. Maybe one of my close friends who’s read all my books could answer this question a little better!

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Author Bio and Links:

Taylor Hohulin is a radio personality by morning, a science fiction author by afternoon, and asleep by 9:30. He is the author of The Marian Trilogy, Tar, and other genre-blending works. He lives in West Des Moines, Iowa, with his wife, where they are owned by a dog and a cat.

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Green Death Book Blitz

Blurb:

As poisonmaster to the Oligarch, Tryg Sant knows a lot of things others shouldn’t. But when he discovers his family’s darkest secret, his brother tries to kill him.

When Tryg’s lover pushes him out of a helicopter and into the poison-filled Exclusion Zone, Tryg finds himself trapped in a dangerous new world, entirely different from the one he expects. Now, Tryg has to learn to survive nearly-feral humans and his own disintegrating mind. Luckily, he’s found an ally in Riot, one of the victims of the Green Death…

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Excerpt:

Everything felt muffled. My injuries, my emotions, my thoughts, the sounds from outside. The heavy, rhythmic, mechanical thumps from somewhere above me were so loud they radiated through my chest. My mind barely registered the noise, even if my sternum did—maybe because there was something strapped over my head, digging into the top of my skull and trapping warm, sweaty air over my ears.

All I cared about, in the moment, was that I wasn’t being hit.

The ground shifted under me, tilting just slightly, shooting my equilibrium all to hell. The only things that kept me from toppling over were a wall on my left, propping me upright, and straps across my shoulders and chest and hips. They dug into my bruises with a steady, fuzzy, ache.

I tried to tug at the straps, hoping to release the pressure, but my arm didn’t work right.

I should have hurt a lot more. I was pretty damned sure I ought to be screaming from just trying to move my arm, but all I felt was thick haze and a low heat over almost every inch of my skin.

“Tryg, wake up.” The headpiece I wore transmitted the words directly into my ears, but even with the amplification, I could barely hear it over the whump whump whump coming from overhead.

I opened my eyes. Well, my left eye, since the right lid didn’t seem to work.

I tried looking around, but my neck didn’t want to move either. So far, the only thing responding to me was a single eyelid.

Someone had given me something—a drug or a poison of some sort. That was the only reason I wasn’t writhing on the ground, screaming. I could feel my injuries, the places my brother had cracked bones or ripped into my skin with his obnoxiously large ring, but only a little. Like a wad of cloth had been shoved somewhere between the injuries and my brain, so the signals from my nerves couldn’t make it through at full strength.

I tried to focus, tried to direct my wandering mind to the list of substances Vodayn had requested from me over the last ten years I’d run the laboratory.

Nothing. Probably just strong painkillers, unless he had outside sources for a new poison.

Outside sources. My blood ran cold. Is that what Arris had been talking about, when I overheard them a few days ago? This pricked at my pride. For a moment, it didn’t matter that my brother had starved and kicked the shit out of me and was sending me to my death. I was angry at him for going elsewhere for poisons when I could make him almost anything he wanted, a hundred times better and far more discreetly than anyone else.

But I’m not his poison master anymore. The thought came crashing down around me, heavy on my shoulders. I slumped forward, though the straps kept me from folding in half.

And then realization struck me, harder than any of my brother’s blows had.

He’d always planned on getting rid of me. Even before I’d found the damning documents. If he was looking elsewhere for poisons, he’d been looking for a replacement. That’d been what Arris’s comment to him had been about.

“Come on, Tryg. I hate that I have to do this job, but it’s a damned good thing for you. Anyone else would have just pushed you out by now. I want you to be functional.”

Arris. My whole body started to shake. Arris was here. He’d save me. He’d make sure I was okay. He cared about me, as much as anyone ever had. More than anyone, since Dad died.

I finally managed to twist my neck a few inches. Arris’s scarred, tanned face slowly resolved before me, headset obscuring his short black hair.

He was frowning just a little. It was the most emotion I’d seen on him, outside of sex.

“There we go. Welcome back.” He leaned forward and brushed his thumb over my cheek. Searing fire ran though my face. I hissed and tried to jerk back, but most of my body still didn’t want to obey my directives.

“You… Why?”

My words slurred. Apparently my lips worked fine, though my tongue was taking its sweet time catching up. I hoped the drug didn’t wear off too soon. I wasn’t prepared to face the damage done to my body. Not until I knew what in the dark depths of hell Arris was planning.

Arris watched me with soft eyes. He never had soft eyes. Passionate while we were fucking? Yes. Inquisitive? Rarely. Ice cold when in his official capacity? Always. But never soft.

“This is occurring because Vodayn demanded that you die. Telling him what you found was a stupid move. The stupidest. He’s been increasingly paranoid over the last year. Surely you haven’t missed that, as smart as you are?”

“Paaa…noy?” My half-numb tongue fumbled over the word. I shook my head. I hadn’t had time to notice anything.

For the last year, Vodayn’s requests of me had gone down, yes, but when he did give me a project, he had been making obscure and incredibly difficult demands I’d worked hard to fulfill. A substance that, once ingested, made hair change color permanently, with no other effect. One that made the victim cry irrationally for days. One that mimicked a heart attack’s symptoms perfectly. I’d succeeded in crafting them all, though the crying draught lasted for only thirty-six hours.

I’d been proud of my success. I’d managed everything he asked.

Arris hummed a little. “Very paranoid. You always were a bit too focused when you were working.”

“How’djou know?”

The lines between his brows grew deeper. “Know what?”

“What I told him.” Words were slowly becoming easier to pronounce.

“Because I was there when he received your report. I only got a glimpse of it while he read it, but I know what it means. We suspected that the Sants had been behind the poisoning ever since it happened. There’s a reason I was stationed in the household, and my father before me. I was supposed to find proof. And you hand-delivered it to him.”

The words Arris spoke now did not match up with what I’d known of him over the last few years. My heart seemed to think that now was a great time to start thundering as fast as it would go. “Who’s we?”

“The resistance.” Here, Arris smiled, and the deepest scar, the one that ran over his cheek, pulled and wrinkled in a dozen places.

He’d been my brother’s right-hand man and main assassin for almost three years, and never once had I seen him smile. It scared me more than anything else. I wonder if all his victims got to see this horrible, wonderful expression.

Because that’s what I would be. His victim. He was letting me see another side to him, now, and that meant I was a dead man.

And then the meaning of his statement filtered into my mind. The resistance. That’d been wiped out with the bombing, hadn’t it? Or tainted with the poison, at least, and driven crazy?

“The resistance survives? Truly?”

He nodded. “We have been trying to find justice for almost a hundred years. The exclusion zone is still the center of it. Most of us had family there, when it was poisoned. My great-grandfather’s entire family got walled inside, except for him. He’d been at a friend’s for a sleepover during the bombing.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “Did any of them… survive?”

“A few, for a while.” He looked away from me, and then his face tightened, the smile vanishing. “We’re almost there. You’re getting dropped in. I pushed for this, instead of using the Black Daydream on you until you were crazy enough to cut your own throat. Vodayn wanted you to die in agony, and I argued this would be the most effective and ironic way. He came around to my line of thinking eventually.”

“Where? Dropped in where?”

He reached past me and tapped on the surface to my right.

I turned my head, my neck still protesting the motion. I suspected that without the painkillers I’d been given, the movement would hurt a lot more.

A window. And beyond it, the sky. Clouds. We were high. I’d never been so high. I never had permission to leave the Sant compound, much less go somewhere that required air transport.

Then again, if all air transport was like this strange, rusted, rickety, noisy vehicle, I doubted I’d missed much.

Arris leaned forward. “You’re wearing a parachute. Do you think you can pull the ripcord yourself once you’re out?”

My heart clenched. I tried to flex my hand, and then lift it. All I managed was a finger-twitch. “I don’t think so.”

“The drug?”

“Yeah. What is it?”

“Just a mid-level painkiller from Professor Marita’s lab.”

“Oh.” Marita—there was that name again. Professional jealousy twisted through me. “Thanks.”

“I’ll pull your ripcord for you when you jump, if you’re not up to it now. We’ll be so low nobody will notice the parachute, thanks to the poison.”

“The—oh green-damned hell, the poison.” Arris’s statements finally sank into me. He’d asked my brother to dump me into the exclusion zone. And my brother had agreed, even before he’d started to beat me senseless.

“Here. Hang on to the handles if you can.” He lifted my arms up, his grip gentle, and hooked my hands over smooth, cool plastic. “This will steer you once you’re in the air, if you can find the strength. Pull which way you want to go. Try and land in a flat place, but close to the taller buildings. You won’t be able to get out of the exclusion zone and go back to regular life, but you’ll have a good chance to survive down there if the right people find you. I’ve already put out an alert. I can only hope you make it, Tryg. I don’t want you to die. You’ve been the closest thing to a friend I had in that mansion. Please believe that.”

Arris looked so damned serious, giving me my death sentence with such care. I knew I wouldn’t last. I wasn’t a fighter—not without my poisons, anyway.

“Don’t pull the chute,” I said, holding his gaze. “Let me fall. It’s kinder.”

Arris shook his head. “I can’t, even if I agreed with you. You have to live. You’re our best hope now. I didn’t want to do this to you, but it’s the only way for Vodayn to leave you in peace.”

A blast of static filled the compartment, and Arris scowled and leaned back. He tilted his head. Whatever he listened to, it didn’t repeat in my headset. I tried moving my neck again, and this time I was able to turn maybe an inch farther to the right. More glass and sky.

The transport vehicle had to be well over three hundred years old, if it still had glass windows and rotors that made this much noise. The Eastrend military forces had used these to monitor the huge political protests, way back before the Green Death happened. They’d been passed on to other government agencies, like the one that monitored the poison levels here. Nobody would think this air transport looked out of place. At least not until I got pushed out of it. And Arris seemed to have already thought of that.

I pressed against the window and looked down. The only thing below us was a foggy haze, the green color lurid against the gray of the surrounding city. It was the hue present on some of the creatures in the Menagerie, almost acid-bright.

We were over the exclusion zone. A dozen small drones in a variety of styles hung just over the fog, film crews focusing on the action down below. There had to be another riot, if so many drones were out here. I hated watching the news on the nights they focused on Greenies fighting, but the rest of Eastrend seemed to love eagerly watching the violence, treated like war footage from somewhere unreachable.

All around the green air, a tall wall—bleak and gray and three city blocks thick at its narrowest point—rose a hundred feet higher than the fog, trapping the Green Death into what had once been a hotbed of political resistance. The place where Arris’s family had once lived.

I looked away. Seeing the exclusion zone—really seeing it, not just on a documentary or the news—made me want to scream. My great-grandfather had singlehandedly caused it. All the pain and agony, all the rage, all the violence—he’d created the chemical that caused it. And I might have, in another life, been able to create a way to neutralize it.

Not anymore.

“I truly am sorry, Tryg. You’ve been the only reason I still have my sanity, working for Vodayn.” Arris tilted his head, gaze sharpening, and then turned to the window next to me. “The fighting has died down. The drones are moving out. Three minutes and we start moving too.”

“Won’t the drones catch me getting pushed in?” I stared up at Arris. My lower lip wobbled in an embarrassing fashion, and I dropped my gaze. I was twenty. I didn’t need to cry. Especially not in front of him.

“The drones will be over the wall by then. Any remaining behind will already have their cameras off or pointed away. The fight’s over. They have their news clips for the day. If Vodayn tells them not to talk about it, they won’t. But if an unregulated source does draw attention to your drop-in, the story is that you’re a researcher sacrificing yourself for data on the Green Death and what it’s doing to the environment. It wouldn’t be the first time an idiot has gone in willingly and can’t get permission to go through the wall. Researchers never get permission.”

“Oh.” I shuddered. Vodayn was probably the reason for the research block. The darkness of our family secrets bled into so many other people’s lives.

Arris frowned, and then he dug something out of his belt. He held up a small, black handgun, the kind that shot little bursts of plasma—the same weapon he’d dug into my back days ago, when arresting me in the lab.

“It’s fully charged, but the safety is on. Red’s dead.” He flicked the little lever back and forth, showing me a red dot beneath it. “Only use it if you absolutely have to. The sound will call all the wild ones to you if you don’t watch out.”

“Wild?”

“They’re the most violent Greenies. They have no tattoos on their faces,” he said. “I’m tucking the gun in your back pocket. I really do want you to survive. I know you haven’t fired one often, but you’re smart. You’ll figure it out. I’ll do my best to check in on you when the Oligarch isn’t watching my every move again, okay?”

He kissed me, bruising, no more than a clash of teeth and lips.

That, more than anything, broke me. We’d never been kissers. I didn’t mind the denial, despite desperately wanting to feel what a kiss was like, mostly because I’d never imagined him being the kissing type. And now, when my banishment and potential execution was so near? Now he gave me what I wanted for so damned long.

When he pulled away, his face was a blank slate, and the chill in his gaze reappeared.

I repressed the urge to scream, to grab at him, to beg to stay in the transport. He might have been my lover, but right now, he was my brother’s top assassin.

These well-wishes and the gun would be the best I’d get from him.

“It’s time” he said as he shoved the gun into the back pocket of the torn, filthy protective work pants I still wore. “There. Brace yourself.” Arris hunched over and fiddled with the metal panel below my window. He grabbed the straps across my chest, and then a great whooshing noise filled the cabin, and the thumping of the rotors above us increased to an alarming volume. Air buffeted my face, ice cold against my cheeks.

And there was no longer any glass between me and the Green Death.

Arris shifted my weight until I sat just on the edge of the seat, tilting out into the nothingness around the transport. The haze hung just below us, the cloudy surface broken in a few dozen places by narrow metal tubes.

“Live, Tryg. Fight for it.” His words rang loud in my ear. Then he yanked my headset off. The noise beat at my eardrums, nearly pounding me senseless.

He shoved, and I was flying.

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About the Author:

Madeleine began writing professionally in 2012. She loves stories with hints of paranormal, fantasy, or sci-fi in them. When she isn’t writing or working the day job, she homebrews beer, attempts to cook, and plays video games. She loves going to Renaissance faires, anime conventions, or beer festivals on the weekends.

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Welcome to the Apocalypse Trilogy Blurb Blitz

Blurb:

"Players. Welcome to the apocalypse"

Book One – Pandora:

The Apocalypse Games is a state of the art virtual game, yet when it traps over 100 players inside, there’s reason to worry – their simulation pods are designed to last 3 days and the artificial intelligence is taking over.

Book Two – CyberNexis:

When rescue finally arrives, the players are transported to an offsite facility to recover from cyber sickness. Not all the players survived and not all is what it seems. What is CyberNexis hiding out in the desert?

Book Three – Primal Scream:

The disaster known as The Event has plunged the world into icy darkness. Humans can’t survive but a group of mutants can. All signs lead back to the simulation pods. What were they really designed for?

Join these characters on an emotional and fast-paced journey to explore what it really means to survive.

Excerpt from Book One:

Jack Minnow grabbed a brochure off the rack and his eyes scanned the back page. "It says here that rule breakers are ten times more likely to survive an apocalypse. They're adaptable and they rely on cunning and instinct."

Jack was five-foot-eight, and the woman behind the counter, called an operator, was easily six-feet tall. Looking at her was like looking at a marble statue atop a pedestal. All white – her hair, her tight-fitting jump suit, her face, neck, and hands, painted to resemble a computer generated character. He allowed himself to imagine that the stage make-up covered places he couldn't see.

She smiled at him. "It also says that rule breakers are ten times more likely to die within the first hour. They're reckless and often act without thinking."

She pushed a plastic tray towards him, the kind handed out at airports to slip under x-ray machines. Jack dropped his wallet, phone, and car keys into the tray.

"So it's a win/win day for a guy with a superhero complex," he said.

Superman, his mother had called him after he'd brought home a stray dog for the fifth time.

"Can't help but save things," she'd told the dog ranger. Even as a boy, Jack knew what happened to the mutts who were handed over to the ranger, but he still brought dogs home for one last night of fun. His superhero complex was the reason he'd entered The Apocalypse Games. Save everyone. Save the world. Nobody dies. Not for real anyway.

The operator removed the tray and he stood there waiting for a voucher. None came. A warning flared up into his brain. What did he really know about this operation?

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Author Bio and Links:

D L Richardson writes speculative fiction. She is currently a self-published author of three YA novels "The Bird with the Broken Wing", "Resident Spy", and "One Little Spell". She is also the creator of the apocalyptic/sci-fi series "Welcome to the Apocalypse", and the novella series inspired by Tales from the Crypt, "The Shivers Novellas".

A former singer and musician, she credits this stage experience for her ease of public speaking, conducting writing workshops, and appearing on panels. Her books don't feature the usual tropes and this has earned her many loyal readers.

When she's not writing she enjoys playing music, watching Netflix, reading, gardening, and walking the dog.

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Book 1     |     Book 2     |     Book 3

Border Lines Release Day Blitz

Synopsis:

When the perfect job comes up, Charlie doesn't think twice about taking it. This is the break he's been looking for and nobody, not even the rest of his team, can persuade him otherwise.

The job means working for an old enemy and crossing the border into London. Both are risky, but Charlie has no idea how high the stakes really are. The team will have to confront their past, each other and a killer who is closer than they realize. But can they all make it out of the city alive?

"We all remember that kid in Piccadilly. That determined look he had on his face as he willed all those people to him. Just using his mind, he pulled them close then blew them all to pieces. It could be anyone. Your neighbour, your friend, your lover. Remain vigilant. Reachers are everywhere."

Border Lines is the second book in L.E. Fitzpatrick's Reachers series.

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Amazon US     |     Amazon UK     |     Amazon AU     |     Amazon DE

Start with Book One, The Running Game

Rachel’s father called it the running game. Count the exits, calculate the routes, and always be ready to run.

On the surface, Rachel is just an ordinary doctor, but she has a secret. Rachel is a Reacher, wanted by the government and the criminal underworld for her telekinetic powers.

Charlie and his brother John have a reputation for doing the impossible. But after losing his family, Charlie is a broken mess and John is barely keeping him afloat. In desperation, they take a job from a ruthless crime lord, only to discover the girl they are hunting is a Reacher... one of their own kind.

With the help of dangerous and dubious allies, can Rachel turn the game around and save herself?

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About the Author:

L E Fitzpatrick was born in Hull, East Yorkshire, but now lives in West Wales, with her family plus lots of dogs and cats. She manages an office, volunteers as a room steward for the National Trust and also supports independent authors as a proofreader and beta reader. She obviously has no spare time because of this, but if she did it would probably be invested in walking in the countryside and enjoying the peace and quiet.

L E Fitzpatrick published her first series Dark Waters in 2011 and is currently working on her Reacher series.

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The After War Book Blast

Blurb:

Two years have passed since mankind faced extinction.

Brain Rhodes and his cousin, Steven, are leaving the protection of their underground bunker for the first time, after a cataclysmic war and unrelenting disease ravaged the earth.

On the other side of the North American continent, young Simon Kalispell is leaving the safety and seclusion of his cabin deep in the woods, traveling with his aging canine companion, Winston.

For individual reasons, these men are traveling east, where the fragmented lives of a small number of survivors will soon be decided by the choices of a corrupt few.

Simon Kalispell and Brian Rhodes are not yet aware, but the strength that resides inside them will soon be tested, and destiny will call for their fates to be forever intertwined.

Excerpt:

Brian looked down the entry chute to Steven at the bottom. He knew that five minutes ago, the only thought going through Steven’s mind had been the complete and utter fear of facing whatever unknown nature of humanity might remain outside that bunker door. Now his cousin looked panicked as the filtered light reflected the sheen of sweat on his forehead, his body tensed, as if the all-encompassing blackness in that room was squeezing him toward the exit. Steven’s eyes darted over his shoulder in the direction of the one piece of equipment they had not shut down entirely—the walk-in freezer. The red, glowing light from the switch illuminated the far wall. Steven seemed frozen, transfixed.

Not the time to be thinking about what’s in there, Brian thought.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

In addition to the commenter prize, the author is also raffling off five signed copies of THE EXPERIMENT OF DREAMS (drawing will be October 21) here. 

Don't forget to visit the other stops on the tour.

Author Bio and Links:

Brandon Zenner is an American fiction writer and an Amazon best selling author. His short fiction has been published in both print and online publications, the first being submitted when he was 19 years old. THE EXPERIMENT OF DREAMS, his debut eBook thriller, has reached Amazon's best seller list many times. His second novel, WHISKEY DEVILS, was released in early 2016. THE AFTER WAR, a dystopian thriller, is available now as a pre-order, at 80% off the final sale price. You can follow the author on his Amazon page, or through his email list on his website. All email subscribers will receive his futuristic short story, HELIX ILLUMINATED, for free as a thank you. His genres of choice are thrillers, crime, dystopian, and science fiction.

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The After War is on sale for 99c during the tour.

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