Free Kindle Nation Shorts – February 14, 2011
An Excerpt from
SNAKE WALKERS
A Novel by J. Everett Prewitt
By Stephen Windwalker
Editor, Kindle Nation Daily
©Kindle Nation Daily 2011
Editor, Kindle Nation Daily
©Kindle Nation Daily 2011
In Africa, the Snake Walkers are a mythical tribe that teaches its children from birth how to walk th
rough a nest of poisonous snakes without being bitten. In J. Everett Prewitt’s fictionalized Arkansas town of the early 1960s, the snakes are no less poisonous….
After the 2005 hardcover edition received unanimous critical acclaim, Kindle Nation is happy to announce that J. Everett Prewitt is celebrating the release of his novel Snake Walkers on Kindle with a generous free excerpt through our Free Kindle Nation Shorts program.
Here’s the set-up
:
In his first novel, J. Everett Prewitt brings us a critically acclaimed story of violence and transformation in a small Arkansas community during the early 1960s.
Traumatized as a child after witnessing a hanging, Anthony Andrews, the first black reporter at the Arkansas Sun, seeks to solve the mysterious abandonment of a small town and the disappearance of fourteen white men.
His investigation leads him from rural Arkansas to Cleveland, Ohio as he tries to uncover a family secret kept hidden for over a decade. The closer he gets to the truth, the more he must question his own motives.
His quest not only reveals the true identity of people he has met along the way, but also points Anthony toward a path that leads to his own salvation.
The Reviews:
Snake Walkers is a captivating book. –Midwest Book Review
Prewitt is a natural story teller. I was drawn right into the story. He captured my attention from the first paragraph. The plot carries with it all the elements of conflict, romance, and intrigue. The story unfolds a haunting theme of mystery. –Richard R. Blake, Vine Voice Top 1000 Reviewer.
“Snake Walkers is a fascinating read that revisits a horrific time in history where the lives of African Americans were tragically taken by those who wanted to suppress them.” –Books2Mention Magazine.
(Prewitt) develops complex characters and a fascinating mystery with historical roots. It is an engaging novel with insights to ponder. –-Small Press Review, July-August 2005, Kaye Bache-Snyder
SNAKE WALKERS is a dynamic work of fiction with a slow, deliberate pace that is reminiscent of Southern Life. The characters are well developed, colorful, flawed and each of them is transformed in the course of the story. The plot is full of twists and suspense; this adds an additional layer of richness to an already compelling work of historical fiction. –RAWSISTAZ Reviewers.
Everett writes with a great mastery of plot and characters capturing the attention of readers right from the riveting opening to the punding climax…This compelling page-turner marks the debut of an extremely promising new talent. –-BookWire Review
UK CUSTOMERS: Click on the title below to download
Free Kindle Nation Shorts – February 14, 2011
SNAKE WALKERS
A Novel by J. Everett Prewitt
Copyright © 2011 by J. Everett Prewitt and published here with his permission
I have given you authority over all the power of the enemy and you can walk among snake and scorpions and crush them. Nothing will injure you.
Luke 10:19
New Living Translation Bible
PROLOGUE
Late Summer, 1948
A farm outside Pine Bluff, Arkansas
The two thirteen-year-old cousins raced around the edges of the cornfield as the sun slowly moved across the horizon, changing from a fiery yellow to a burnt orange, signaling its pending departure. The smaller boy, a visitor at his cousin’s farm, and the faster of the two, stopped for the third time to wait for his playmate and to look across the rows of corn toward the woods.
“I’ve never been in any woods before,” the smaller one said.
“City boy,” the larger one said teasingly, “Almost grown and ain’t never been in no woods.”
The smaller boy looked once more toward the looming cluster of trees.
As if reading his mind, the larger boy, more seriously now, pointed toward the woods and whispered, “They’s hainted. You ain’t want to go there. Nobody go there. That’s where the ghost of dead people live.”
Anthony Andrews shrugged. “I still want to go. Will you tell?” he asked.
Joe Mathis hesitated, grimacing and shaking his head at his cousin’s bullheadedness. “Nah. I ain’t gonna tell.”
Without a second thought, Anthony started toward his destination, glancing back to see his cousin standing, arms folded, still shaking his head.
It took longer than he expected to reach the edge of the forest through the endless rows of corn. The trees that appeared so small in the distance loomed over him now like giant guardians to the entrance of some other world. Unfamiliar with his surroundings, he hesitated at the edge of the forest, listening, as Joe’s warning of a haunted woods echoed faintly in his head.
It didn’t take long for the adventurer in him to win out, though. So despite any misgivings, he entered, moving cautiously into the quiet darkness.
Where the cornfield he had just passed through was lively with the sounds of swishing stalks swaying in the wind, accompanied by the high-pitched cawing of crows, the even higher-pitched chirps of the woodland birds, and the faint, lowing of a distant cow, the woods were unlike anyplace he had ever been.
There was a dampness in the air that seemed to diminish any sounds of life, creating a quietness that settled like a blanket over the towering, majestic trees. Even the singing of the birds seemed muted.
Anthony stood still, his hands on his hips. It was as if he had entered another place in time.
Eventually he stepped carefully over the roots that snaked from the huge clustered trunks of the lofty oak trees and moved inward, entering an open area of red and yellow dahlias and black-eyed susans. He felt more at ease after seeing their bright colors and inhaling their light, breezy fragrance.
Hesitantly, he walked farther, past a thicket of brightly colored bushes, and found a group of smaller pear trees encircled by a blanket of flowers and shrubs. The place was like a beautiful painting. It was better by far than anywhere else he had ever visited. Anthony decided this would be his secret place, where he would come to be alone and surround himself with the magic the area possessed.
He walked deeper into the woods, through the trees, flowers, and bushes, marveling at the variety of shapes, colors, sounds, and smells. Occasionally he looked behind him so he wouldn’t get lost, but he had no intention of going back until he was satisfied he had seen everything. There was a small hill shaped like the letter L that overlooked a meadow. Anthony climbed it to get an even better look at his paradise.
A deeper shade of darkness descended through the trees. Although he knew it was time to leave, he remained, savoring his surroundings. I’ll go back in a little while, he thought as he lay on the ground, hands behind his head, looking up at the emerging stars.
He lingered as long as he possibly could before reluctantly rising, stretching his thin arms and legs to begin his descent. Before he could take his first step, though, he was stopped by the faint sound of men laughing that drifted through the stillness of the night. It startled, then upset him, that there were other people in his woods.
The moon had emerged, and played hide-and-seek, while the darkness made its home among the trees. He could barely make out a group of men with one small torch surrounding a smaller person at the far edge of the woods near a cluster of medium-sized trees. They were walking toward him. Some had what looked like big sticks or baseball bats, and one man had what looked like a rope. While the other men varied in size and shape, the man with the rope stood out. He was fat and squat-looking, and he reminded Anthony of a picture of an ogre he had seen in one of the books at the school library.
The men stopped near the base of the hill next to a smaller oak tree. Anthony watched as two of them held the person in the middle. The squat-looking man slung a rope over a branch. There was faint whining and sniffling coming from within the gathering. As the men shuffled around waiting for the man with the rope to finish, shards of light from the moon bathed the group in a dull, yellow hue. It made the white rope and the beige-colored baseball bats more visible.
Anthony counted nine men in the group, all dressed in overalls and boots as if they had just left their farms. They were white except for the person in the middle. Anthony could see him more clearly as additional light filtered through the trees. The face wasn’t familiar, but it was clear he was a colored boy, like him, and young, like him.
The strange noises were coming from the boy.
“Shut up, nigger, and quit your moaning,” a tall, pale-looking man growled.
Anthony froze.
“I ain’t do nothin’.”
A bat interrupted the boy’s plea. It hit him in the forehead. A short scream erupted from the young boy as his head snapped back from the vicious blow before he slumped. Two men on either side held him to keep him from falling to the ground. A knot as big as a baseball appeared almost instantly on his forehead.
Anthony shuddered and wiped a tear running down his cheek. The sound was the same one his friend Cal Harper’s bat had made when he had hit a homerun the week before.
“Goddammit, Junior. You almost hit me,” the taller of the men said.
“But I didn’t.”
The men laughed.
The boy looked around frantically, then froze. His gaze was fixed in Anthony’s direction, but he said nothing. Could he see me? Anthony thought as the boy continued to look toward the small hill where Anthony lay. Anthony wrung his hands in despair. He was only a boy himself.
The squat man pulled on both ends of the rope, inspecting the branch. “It’ll do,” he rasped in a deep, gravelly voice.
Anthony watched in disbelief as one of the men put the noose around the boy’s neck. Three of them grabbed the other end and began pulling the rope. The tree limb creaked from the additional weight.
As the body rose slowly from the ground, an eerie whine punctured the night air, causing the men pulling the rope to stop briefly before tying the end of the rope to a stump. Only a faint gurgling noise could be heard among the jeering laughter as the body, which at first jerked spasmodically, barely swung back and forth while the men stood admiring their handiwork. They then picked up their bats and started swatting at the hanging boy.
Chills rushed through Anthony’s body, and more tears poured down his face as the sound of the bats penetrated the darkness.
“You swing like a girl, Tyson,” a heavy-voiced man said.
“Oh yeah? Your momma don’t think so.”
In morbid fascination, Anthony wiped his eyes to look one more time.
“Watch this,” the tallest of men said as he swung with full force at the boy’s head.
Anthony began to tremble uncontrollably as the boy’s head snapped back again. There was another cracking sound. This time the young boy’s head fell to the side at an odd angle. What could have been blood dripped slowly from his dangling tongue, which had slipped out of his opened mouth and swung back and forth with the force of each blow.
He watched the men swat at the hanging target for what seemed like hours. The lifeless body began to sway again, creating the same creaking sounds as before, interrupted only by the men’s grunts of exertion. He watched as it slowly turned toward him. And for a brief moment, in less time than a heartbeat, one eye opened. It was almost like a blink, but in that terrifying moment, a moment where a fathomless dread flooded his body, the eye seemed to look straight at Anthony.
At first he couldn’t stand. His legs were so weak; Anthony feared he would have to stay there all night. He crawled on his hands and knees through the brush and down the other side of the hill until he felt his strength return. Unable to see clearly through teary eyes, he willed himself to run as fast as he could through the woods toward the farm.
He hurtled his thin body through the brush and trees, oblivious to the cuts and scratches from the branches that grabbed him at every step. Noise was of no concern to him now. Anthony’s thin legs pumped so fast that he fell headfirst down a brush-covered ditch. A flock of startled black birds cawed; their wings flapped angrily as they took flight.
The fall slowed him temporarily, but his feet never stopped moving until he reached the clearing where he could see the lights from his uncle Mathis’s house above the rows of corn that were now as still as the rest of the night.
His lungs were on fire as he fell exhausted on the ground. With his chest heaving from both fear and fatigue, Anthony looked back at the edge of the woods, terrified that the same men he watched hang and beat the boy would burst out of the woods and do the same to him.
The grunts and wet thuds made by the bats as they hit the bloodied, lifeless body followed him all the way back to the farm. He burst through the front door and through the house to the bedroom, acknowledging no one. “Where have you…Anthony?” His mother’s voice sounded alien and distant.
Bumping his knees on the bed he shared with Joe, he climbed in, shivering, with his clothes still on, pulling every blanket he could reach over himself.
Eventually, there was a quiet shuffle of bare feet as someone else entered the room. The bed sagged from the weight of another person as Anthony slid even farther under the covers.
“I told you,” Joe whispered.
PART I
Chapter 1
January 1961
Pine Bluff, Arkansas
At 5:30 A. M., the two runners had the track to themselves. It was an isolated area surrounding a grass-covered football field at the back of an old brick school. Anthony liked the track since few people used it. Because it was so secluded, there was minimal chance of human contact. That day, though, Anthony wanted company.
The air was brisk with no breeze and a temperature of around fifty-five degrees. The mist lifting from the ground made the men look ghostly. The crunch of their shoes hitting the red cinders was the only sound penetrating the morning stillness. Anthony, the slightly taller of the two, ran with an effortless gait. The shorter, huskier runner with the build of a running back labored as he ran to keep up.
“Anthony James Andrews, if you keep up this pace, you’re going to be running by yourself,” the shorter one said as he struggled to keep abreast.
“You’re the one who ran track in school,” Anthony chided his friend Chucky as they turned into the backstretch for the seventeenth lap.
“Yeah, but it was 440 yards, not the marathon,” Chucky said puffing, “and I wasn’t obsessed with it like you.”
Anthony and Charles “Chucky” Aaron White met when they first started elementary school. Their friendship grew on its own, unattended by words, like a cactus would grow unattended by water. Neither acknowledged their closeness in so many words, but both considered the other to be a best friend. Their friendship was the reason that when Anthony called, knowing that even though Chucky hated to run long distances, Chucky would come.
Their laugh, throaty but subdued, sounded like it came from the same person. In fact, there was little to distinguish the two except their height. Both twenty-six-year-olds would be considered attractive with dusky brown complexions, short hair, high cheekbones, and angular noses that stopped just short of the wider noses attributed to their African ancestors. Anthony, however, at six feet even was, two inches taller than Chucky.
A week ago, he was working at his father’s funeral home when they received the body of an old colored man who had been beaten to death outside the town of Wynne, Arkansas. After a glimpse at the naked corpse with its head bashed in on one side, a leg that lay at an awkward angle indicating it had been broken in more than one place, all but two of its fingers missing and a hole where the testicles used to be, Anthony experienced his first flashback in years.
It had been thirteen years since the incident in the woods. He had hoped the pain of it would disappear in time, but it hadn’t completely. It was still there, lurking in the shadows, waiting, like some gigantic, poisonous viper. At the beginning, during the most dreadful periods, Anthony felt that he was just within the serpent’s reach, and if it ever caught him, it would swallow him whole.
It was evident that time would not be his narcotic, so he ran. Running was redemptive. It cleaned and restored the natural order of things within him. The eye that constantly penetrated his dreams, the nightmares, the flashbacks, the nagging fear that something was behind him faded away, at least for a time. The pain of exhaustion temporarily replaced the pain of sadness and powerlessness, but even that dissipated until only the steady, rhythmic sound of his feet was left to propel his mind to a more peaceful place.
“Lost in thought?” Chucky asked, bringing Anthony back to the present as they slowed to a jog to cool down.
“I’m sorry, man. There’s a lot of stuff on my mind these days,” Anthony said.
“Whenever you want to unload, all you have to do is start talking,” Chucky said, tapping Anthony’s back in a show of support. “That’s what friends are for.”
“Thanks, man. I appreciate that.”
“Talking about friends, are we going to see you at Mo’s this Saturday?” Chucky asked. “When you don’t show, we have no choice but to talk about you. You need to be there to salvage your reputation,” he said, laughing and still trying to catch his breath.
Anthony laughed with him. “I plan on it.”
“Good. I’m going to get some coffee after I shower. You want to join me?” Chucky asked.
“No. I’m going to do some weights before I head to work.”
Chucky turned with raised eyebrows. “Weights? When did you start doing weights?”
“Just recently. Nothing heavy. Just a lot of repetitions.”
“For how long?”
“Another hour or so.”
Chucky shook his head. “Are you sure you aren’t overdoing it?”
“I – I just feel better when I’ve had a complete workout.”
Chucky raised his hands, palms up. “This wasn’t a complete workout?”
Anthony took a deep breath. “Not to me.”
Chucky looked at Anthony closely. “What’s going on man?”
“Everything’s okay, Chucky.”
Chucky continued to stare at Anthony. “How’s everything at the funeral home?” Chucky asked as they slowed to a walk.
Anthony shook his head slightly. “It’s fine, but it’s not what I want to do for the rest of my life.”
“The money’s good, isn’t it?” Chucky asked.
“It is, but my father and I don’t agree on a lot of things,” Anthony said as he thought about the old man who was beaten to death and the rift it caused between him and his father.
After Anthony saw the body, he had gone home that day shaking his head in disgust at the anguish it caused him and the weakness he felt because of it. As soon as he had entered his apartment, he retrieved the folded, yellowed piece of paper he had carried with him since he was a child. Before the woods, Anthony feared nothing. Now fear, though most times dormant, accompanied him everywhere he went. It scared him most that he wasn’t in control.
Aunt Ida, his father’s sister who passed four years earlier, used to always say, “The devil knockin” when she began to feel “strange.” Anthony didn’t realize the significance of her statement until years later when she was sent to a home for the mentally unstable.
Years had passed since the devil had knocked on Anthony’s door, but it had come, pounding away, that day he saw the old man’s body. And like a reopened wound, the memories of Emmanuel came too. Anthony had named the boy he saw in the woods in his mind because it wasn’t right that he didn’t have a name. The helplessness he felt as he watched them put a noose around Emmanuel’s neck tormented him all over again.
He had stayed in his apartment for two sleepless weeks, walking the floor, and hardly eating because he knew he would throw it up. His mother called every day. His father called once, to find out when he would return to work.
After the second weekend away from the job, his mother had insisted Anthony come to the house for dinner. It was only the second time during that two-week period that he had left the apartment.
“Randall!”
Anthony had been startled more by his mother’s response than his father’s statement. “What do you mean, Dad?”
“You see a dead man, and you take off for two weeks? How can I depend on you if I have to worry about you running off again?”
Anthony had shaken his head slightly. His father hadn’t understood. He couldn’t have understood. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m not cut out for this business.”
“Anthony! Your father is just upset right now. Don’t make it any worse.”
A half smile had crossed Anthony’s face for a brief second. “Dad’s right, Mom, as always, but for the wrong reasons.”
His father’s face had darkened as he looked at Anthony closely. “So what’s the reason? What’s the reason I have to almost turn down customers because my son, who would eventually inherit one of the most profitable businesses in this town , can’t stand the sight of a dead body?” Anthony’s father looked at him in disdain before shaking his head. “And for the life of me, I fail to understand why you even agonize over some nigger that probably had it coming anyway.”
Anthony had stood then, speaking louder than he ever had to his father. “Because he’s a human being Dad, and no one should have been treated like he was.” Anthony’s voice lowered. “And if you can’t understand that, Dad, then I’m not going to try to explain it to you.”
“What I do understand is that I raised a son to follow in my footsteps, but he can’t take it,” his father had said as he slammed his palm on the table.
A need to fight back had coursed through Anthony’s veins and settled somewhere near the front of his brain. He couldn’t tell then if the sudden headache was from anger or fear, but he couldn’t show anger. Anger meant you had lost control. He couldn’t show fear either, because he was the cub, and the wolf was tougher, and if you cower, the wolf wins.
The wolf and the cub. That was their relationship in a nutshell. How could a father like that understand? All he was concerned with was being right at all costs, running his funeral business and making money. Nothing else counted.
Just a few months ago, Anthony recalled a conversation between his dad and a few of his friends after reading the headline in the Arkansas Sun, which blared, “King in North Carolina.” The article lamented that Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., was involved in a sit-in at Woolworth’s lunch counter, stirring up people unnecessarily. Anthony had read the same article with interest because for some time, racial tension had been on the rise, and southern states like Arkansas were feeling the pressure. America was feeling the pressure.
A journalist in a New York once wrote, “Race relationships in the South have always been covered by a thin veneer of southern decorum. Peel the skin off, though, and what you find is an unspoken contract between blacks and whites that governs every aspect of their lives.”
Anthony agreed, but in the past few years, he noticed that the assigned roles and established relationships were slowly beginning to unravel as more and more Negroes joined the chorus of voices seeking change.
Attitudes were shifting-or maybe hardening was a better description. Resentments that had simmered just below the surface now erupted like bubbles in the belly of a lava-pregnant mountain-one, then another, bursting, subsiding, then multiplying in numbers, until it finally overflowed.
The festering rage over the death of young black men like Emmett Till, the discord over Rosa Parks and her refusal to move to the back of the bus, the integration of the schools, and the general turmoil created by Dr. King and his people ignited a slow but steadily growing fire in the South as well as the North. Even among colored folks though, it wasn’t a heat that everyone welcomed, especially in his household.
“That damned King!” Randall grumbled that day in the parlor. “Rabble rousers like him are destroying the very fabric of the South that allows so many of us to obtain a good living. The lowlife and rebellious few that are causing all the trouble should get off the streets, stop complaining, work harder, and achieve. Then there would be no reason to march and cause trouble.”
Anthony tried to understand his father’s anxiety, but he couldn’t. Randall Andrews had expressed the same concern when the nine children integrated Central High. “Uppity Negroes. A colored school isn’t good enough for them?” But Anthony had to admire those kids and others like them who felt so strongly about Negro rights that they would risk their lives for it.
The results of this unrest, though, were the same as if one were to hit a hornet’s nest with a stick. Acts of violence against Negroes increased, and tension was so thick you could almost touch it.
There were times during that period when Anthony almost felt compelled to join the quest for rights and freedom, but he was torn. He was torn between his sense of justice for all, the agony of his past, and his own pursuits. In the end, he opted to take the path of personal gain. There were many reasons. Some he couldn’t formulate. But at that moment in his life, he decided that if he were to accomplish his lifelong dream of becoming a reporter, he would have to focus. Nothing was more important.
Anthony sighed. He often wondered why his dad and mom ever married. Randall Andrews was rigid and a constant complainer who was always railing against something. If it wasn’t the poor niggers trying to get burial services for little or nothing, it was the outsiders coming in and causing trouble with the white man. Mildred Andrews, on the other hand, was a quiet, gentle woman who never raised her voice and who listened more than she talked. Whatever peace there was in the house was because of her.
Anthony had more of his mother’s characteristics than his father’s.
***
Anthony glanced at Chucky. He wasn’t comfortable sharing his problem with his friends. They all looked up to him. They would be disappointed knowing that a dead body had caused him so much distress. It was a burden he would have to bear by himself, and a problem he would have to solve by himself.
They stopped their walk as Chucky turned to look at Anthony and nodded knowingly. “I can understand you having problems with your dad.” He laughed. “I would imagine that anybody who worked for Mr. Andrews would. ‘We’re the upper echelon of Negro society,’ ” Chucky mimicked.
Anthony smiled. “Yeah, they even started calling themselves the ‘Echelons’ until someone told them that the name sounded like some singing group from Detroit.” His smile faded. “You know. I try to please him, but he’s convinced that Andrews Funeral Home is my future. I went to school to become a journalist, and that’s what I intend to do,” Anthony said resolutely. “For some reason, my father doesn’t believe I can do it.”
“Well, there’s the Arkansas State Press down here. There’s a colored paper in Mississippi, and I believe there’s one in Tennessee. If you want to go north, there’s the Chicago Defender, the Pittsburgh Courier, the Call & Post in Cleveland…” Chucky hesitated. “There are some more that don’t come to mind right now. Which papers would you want to work for?”
Anthony looked toward the sky. The morning mist had receded, replaced by the sun that peeked out behind lazily shifting clouds. He stood there for a moment in contemplat
Welcome to Kindle Nation Daily
Kindle Nation Daily is moving, and this will be our new web home. While we continue the migration process, you can click here to visit the Kindle Nation Daily blog.
You can also click here to learn more about Kindle Free For All, the book that can show you how to find all kinds of free content for your Kindle, how to use your Kindle’s audio and internet features, and lots of other Kindle tips and tricks.
Finally, click here to view the links page for Kindle Free For All.
Kindle Nation Daily Free Book Alert, Sunday, February 13: Our 220+ Free Book Listings Provide a Bridge to Happiness, plus … Readers of all ages are enjoying D.M. Trink’s teen mystery The Crimson-Eyed Dragon (Today’s Sponsor)
From the luxury of San Francisco’s famous hills to the wild freedom of the majestic snow-covered Sierra Mountains, this morning’s brand new addition to our list of over 220 free contemporary Kindle books shares the intensely dramatic story of one woman’s life….
But first, a word from … Today’s Sponsor
School is over for the summer! All Jared wants to do is sleep, swim, and delve into as many computer and video games as possible. But life has other plans for him….
The Crimson-Eyed Dragon
Text-to-Speech: Enabled
Don’t have a Kindle
? Get yours here
.
? Get yours here. A totally engaging and suspenseful tale!
Here’s the set-up:
School is over for the summer! All Jared wants to do is sleep, swim, and delve into as many computer and video games as possible. Life has other plans for him, however, and everything transforms one fateful afternoon when Jared accompanies his mom to an antique shop.
He is inexplicably attracted to a magnificent silver dragon statue with eyes that glow like precious rubies. When Jared brings the statue home, he initiates a chain of events that catapults him and his friends Griffin and Chase into a great adventure solving the mystery of the crimson-eyed dragon. Joined by Chase’s sister Amber, the teens discover that the statue holds a vital clue to the previous owner’s life. They embark on an innocent quest, but the secrets that unfold lead them into unimaginable danger that could ultimately destroy all of their lives.
He is inexplicably attracted to a magnificent silver dragon statue with eyes that glow like precious rubies. When Jared brings the statue home, he initiates a chain of events that catapults him and his friends Griffin and Chase into a great adventure solving the mystery of the crimson-eyed dragon. Joined by Chase’s sister Amber, the teens discover that the statue holds a vital clue to the previous owner’s life. They embark on an innocent quest, but the secrets that unfold lead them into unimaginable danger that could ultimately destroy all of their lives.
What the Reviewers Say
“Written in a colloquial style, you enter the mysterious, private, active and dramatic world of contemporary teenagers. Follow the mystery of the dragon and its clues leading into danger! Feel the warmth of friendship and the kindness of parents in this feel-good story of summer.”
–Janine Marzec
–Janine Marzec
“I feel that it is so well-written, that readers of almost any age will enjoy this story. The author did a great job of ‘tying up’ all lose ends and made the reader feel good with all the various twists and turns.”
–Smokey
“I found this book on my Kindle. Which I love…I also loved this book. It reminded me of the movie “The Goonies”. All I can say is move over Goonies!! Here comes “The Crimson-Eyed Dragon” by D.M. Trink. If you loved the movie “Goonies” you will fall in love with this book. A group of teenagers trying to solve a mystery. A FIVE STAR BOOK!!”
–Jennifer L
Click here 
to download The Crimson-Eyed Dragon (or a free sample) to your Kindle, iPad, iPhone, iPod Touch, BlackBerry, Android-compatible, PC or Mac and start reading within 60 seconds!
to download The Crimson-Eyed Dragon (or a free sample) to your Kindle, iPad, iPhone, iPod Touch, BlackBerry, Android-compatible, PC or Mac and start reading within 60 seconds!UK CUSTOMERS: Click on the title below to download
Each day’s list is sponsored by one paid title. We encourage you to support our sponsors and thank you for considering them.
Authors, Publishers, iPad Accessory Manufacturers:
Interested in learning more about sponsorship? Just click on this link for more information.
Free Contemporary Titles in the Kindle Store
HOW TO USE OUR NEW FREE BOOK TOOL:
Just use the slider at right of your screen below to scroll through a complete, updated list of free contemporary Kindle titles, and click on an icon like this one (at right) to read a free sample right here in your browser! Titles are sorted in reverse chronological order so you can easily see new freebies.
Think “The West Wing meets I Am Legend….” – Free Kindle Nation Shorts – February 13, 2011: An Excerpt from TORMENT, A Novel of Dark Horror by Jeremy Bishop
Free Kindle Nation Shorts – February 13, 2011
An Excerpt from
An Excerpt from
TORMENT
A Novel of Dark Horror
By Jeremy Bishop
Think “The West Wing meets I Am Legend….”
By Stephen Windwalker
Editor, Kindle Nation Daily
©Kindle Nation Daily 2011
Small town reporter, Mia Durante, finds herself having brunch with the President of the United States on the day civilization comes to an end.
An electromagnetic pulse blinds the U.S.
Cars crash.
Planes fall.
Chaos reigns.
Power is restored within minutes, but it’s already too late.
Russian nukes are falling. U.S. allies around the world are all ready wiped out.
The United States will cease to exist inside of five minutes.
After giving the order to launch a full-scale retaliation, dooming the planet, the president, White House staff, Secret Service and those lucky enough to be visiting the white house, are whisked below ground where they board several Earth Escape Pods. As the EEPs launch into Earth orbit, missiles descend.
Less than forty survive the end of the world. When they return, they’re greeted by survivors of a different sort. The bloodbath that follows leaves Durante and nine other survivors on the run. They find themselves fighting for survival in a world in which only torment remains and where death is the only escape.
That’s the set-up for Jeremy Bishops’s bestselling novel TORMENT, from which we are serving up a nice 7,800 excerpt this evening through our Free Kindle Nation Shorts program. Well, perhaps “nice” is not the best choice of words here.
But it doesn’t matter. With a set-up like that, I think there are very few readers who haven’t clicked through already to begin reading the free excerpt. So I don’t think there will be a lot of attention paid here to my choice of adjectives. After all, it’s the book that’s important here, and if you start reading I think you’ll quickly agree….
UK CUSTOMERS: Click on the title below to download
PRAISE FOR TORMENT
“Jeremy Bishop takes a terrifying bite out of the zombie genre with TORMENT. This is a dark and devious post-apocalypting thrill-ride!” -Jonathan Maberry, NY Times Bestselling authr of PATIENT ZERO and ROT & RUIN
“TORMENT is a nightmarish descent through Armageddon. With barely a pause for breath, Bishop drags you out of normality, straight into the depths of a devastated post-apocalyptic landscape. Surreal and extraordinary locations, grotesque characters and outlandish events rise up from the devastated ashes of the familiar in this startlingly original horror novel. Dreamlike, disturbing and never predictable, once you start reading, you won’t want to put it down.” — David Moody, author of HATER, DOG BLOOD & the AUTUMN series.
“Jeremy Bishop explodes onto the zombie scene with TORMENT, a thought-provoking gorefest that turns the genre on its head. Both shocking and riveting, this is a debut novel that leaves the reader hungry for more.” — Steven Savile, #1 International bestselling author of PRIMEVAL and SILVER
“With originality not seen since Fleischer’s Zombieland, Bishop’s debut novel will drag you kicking and screaming to the very bloody end. Look out Maberry … there’s a new sheriff in town.”
— Thenovelblog.com
“This is one of those kick-ass icky books that constantly surprised me. I’m looking forward to what Bishop has up his sleeve next.” — Jeff Ayers, Author Magazine
“TORMENT is a fast paced horror story filled with monsters and zombies (but not the kind you might expect in a novel like this). [It’s] gory and intense, all things a book like this should be.”
— TheManEatingBookworm
BONUS CONTENT
Exclusive excerpt of BENEATH by Jeremy Robinson
Exclusive excerpt of 33 A.D. by David McAfee
Free Kindle Nation Shorts – February 13, 2011
An Excerpt from
An Excerpt from
Torment
A Novel of Dark Horror
By Jeremy Bishop
Copyright © 2011 by Jeremy Bishop and published here with hisr permission
17
The physical toll of reentry seemed paltry compared to the pulsing acceleration of liftoff. Mia’s stomach lurched when gravity took hold, but other than that, she remained fully conscious and aware. The view out the window shifted from dark space, to deep purple and then to clear blue sky. Not a cloud in sight. The view through the command center window was much more expansive than the small portal had been, but she still could not see the ground.
And that’s what she really wanted to see.
She expected the world to be scorched and decimated. Ruins of the human civilization. Over time, what was left would be reduced to dust, and future generations, born from the children of the few survivors, would build a new world. Villages at first. Then small cities. Migrations would come next. Trade routes. Countries. Wars. Human civilization would be remade and probably, someday in the future, undone again.
She wondered for a moment if this could have happened before. Maybe the flood was some kind of man-made cataclysm? she thought. Six thousand years in the future, our descendants might debate the mythology surrounding the time when God burned the Earth, sparing those who fled into space, in EEPs that contained all the knowledge and life of the previous earth. The knowledge, all digital, wouldn’t survive long. Batteries would die and the technology to recreate them wouldn’t exist for a long time to come. But in the years to come, using the technology on the EEPs, they would recreate Earth’s animal life.
She knew it was all ludicrous, but that didn’t keep her from hoping.
What else is there to hope for? she wondered.
The parachutes deployed and jolted the EEP hard, slowing the descent to a swaying flutter.
She unlocked the bar restraint and pushed it back over her head.
“What are you doing?” Austin asked.
“I want to see.” The cushioning system disengaged with the removal of the bar and she could move again. She undid the Velcro snaps and pushed out of her chair. But she didn’t make it far. While gravity was now tugging her toward the Earth’s core, her brain had yet to readjust. Some part of her mind expected to float free of the chair, but she merely bounced in the seat.
Austin chuckled. “Heavier than you remember?”
“Hey,” she said, before standing and leaning toward the window.
“When we touch down, you’ll want to be back in the chair and strapped in,” he said, undoing his own restraints. “It could be rough.”
The EEP had swayed back so she could see only sky. “Won’t the shock absorbers take most of it?”
“Unless we land on a ledge and flip over.”
She looked back at him. “That could happen?”
“If it’s a short fall we could end up upside down or on our side. If it’s a long fall, the EEP would right itself-it’s bottom heavy-but the parachutes might not slow us down again.”
Mia frowned, but felt the EEP sway in the other direction. She leaned over the command console and looked out the window. As the world below came into view, Austin joined her.
“Oh my God,” she whispered.
“Well, that’s not what I expected.”
A residential neighborhood, seemingly untouched by the war, stood one thousand feet below. Things looked different in the distance-darker-but this small part of the world looked livable.
“Do you think there are survivors?”
“I don’t see how it’s possible. Then again, I don’t see how this is possible either. I was expecting ruins everywhere.” As the EEP spun around, Austin saw a gleaming white circle below them. “There’s EEP Beta.”
Mia strained to see. The massive spacecraft had come to rest atop of a house, now flattened beneath it.
“EEP Alpha, do you read?”
Austin toggled the com system. “We hear you Reggie. What’s the score?”
“The system was right. I’m on the ground. The air is breathable. The Geiger counter is pinging at normal levels. No fallout anywhere. It’s like the missiles never dropped.”
“Have you seen any survivors?”
“Not a one.” Reggie was quiet for a moment. “No animals either. No birds. No bugs. Somehow this neighborhood survived.”
A stiff breeze caught EEP Alpha and began pulling them away from EEP Beta. “Looks like we’re going to touch down a few blocks away,” Austin said. “Stay where you are. We’ll come to you.”
“Copy that, Austin.”
Austin motioned to the chairs and sat down. “Better strap in, we’ll be on the ground in thirty seconds.”
Mia nodded, took her seat and began to lift the bar restraint over her body. But before she did, Reggie’s voice came over the speakers again. “Oh my God, I see survivors!”
Mia and Austin launched from their chairs and looked out the window. EEP Beta was further away, but still visible. They could see Reggie in front, waving his arms, and his group of survivors exiting the EEP behind him. Further down the street, a crowd of people approached.
“Looks like the whole neighborhood,” Reggie said. “Sounds like they’re shouting something.”
“What are they saying?” Austin asked, while keeping one eye on their distance from the ground. Maybe fifteen seconds left.
“Can’t tell. They’re all shouting. Making it hard to hear.” Reggie’s voice grew louder as he spoke to the people, who were now just a few feet away. “One at a time! I can’t hear you!”
A new voice, feminine, came over Reggie’s mic. “Please run! I don’t want to hurt-“
“Reggie…” Austin said. Something about the woman’s voice bothered him. But he didn’t get any further.
“What?” Reggie said, “I don’t–” The scream that followed was horrible, like something from a B-movie actress, but worse because it came from the voice of a man.
“Fuck,” Austin said. They were far from the action now, but the jerky violent movements of the mob as they descended on the survivors, coupled with Reggie’s scream told him everything he needed to know. They were being slaughtered. The last thing he saw was a group of the mob peel off and head in their direction. Then a tall power line passed by the window.
He shoved Mia into her seat and dove into his. “Hold on!”
The impact came a moment later. The EEP shook and screeched as they plowed through a house, scraped across the open street and slammed into a second home. The EEP tipped for a moment as the full parachutes tugged, but the heavy base settled to the ground with a thud.
They were still for only a moment when Austin leapt from his seat and yanked her up. There was no time to ask about injuries. No time to ponder what had happened. They needed to move.
“There an armory on board?” she asked.
Austin nodded. They were on the same page.
Though the neighborhood looked as American as they come, he didn’t know where they had landed. What he did know was that the locals were hostile and would reach them inside five minutes.
They had to run.
They had to fight.
The war, it seemed, wasn’t over.
18
America
“Everyone up!” Mia shouted as she rejoined the others. She felt happy to see Garbarino and Paul Byers jump up at the ready.
When Austin added, “Move! We have hostiles incoming!” Vanderwarf and White stood. Austin pointed to them, “You two, weapons cache. I want a firearm in the hands of everyone over seven years old in under a minute.” He turned to Garbarino and Byers. “Joe, break out the survival packs. One for everyone.”
Garbarino waved for Paul to follow him, then looked back. “What about the kid? She won’t be able to carry it.”
“I’ll double up,” Austin said.
“So will you,” Mia said to Garbarino as she pulled Liz free of her restraints and picked her up. “I’m carrying Liz.”
He frowned for a moment, but then nodded. It made sense.
“Explain the situation to them while I check things out.” Austin said as he moved around Mia and headed for the exterior hatch.
Mia watched him unlock the hatch and step outside, no pause or consideration given to the survivability of the atmosphere. When she turned back, Mark, Collins and Chang were staring at her wide-eyed.
“What’s happening?” Collins asked. “Is it the Russians? Did they survive somehow?”
“We’re in a residential neighborhood,” Mia said, and then thought about her next words. She didn’t want to scare Liz further. She could feel the little girl’s limbs shaking as she silently held on tight. “EEP Beta landed a few blocks over. They…encountered a large hostile group.”
Chang sucked in a breath. “They’re dead?”
Mia shot her a look as Liz tightened her grip.
Chang looked at the floor. “Sorry.”
Mia tried to think of a way to say things without Liz understanding. She decided on military speak, which she knew thanks to Matt. “They’re KIA,” Mia said. “Yes. Some of the group is coming this way.”
“Hence the backpacks and weapons,” Mark said. “We’re on the run.”
Vanderwarf and White reentered the room, each carrying a small arsenal-several handguns, spare clips, two shotguns and three MP5 submachine guns. They laid them out on a reclining chair. Mia had spent a lot of time at the shooting range with various men in her former life and was a pretty good shot. She felt thankful for that as she took a Sig Sauer handgun and four spare clips, and shoved them all into a pocket with one hand while holding Liz with the other.
Collins took a handgun as well. He didn’t look comfortable holding it.
“You’ve shot before?” Paul asked him.
“I’ve only fired a gun a few times. My father took me hunting. Never liked it.” He moved the weapon up and down, feeling its weight in his hand. “Not sure I could shoot someone.”
Mia let out scoffing laugh. “Says the man who pushed the button.”
Collins stiffened. “Hey-“
“No time for talking, you two,” White said. “Focus on surviving or you’re likely not to.” He held a handgun out to Mark. “Not going to be a stereotype, are you?”
“Hardly,” Mark said, taking an MP5 and a Sig Sauer.
Vanderwarf squinted at him, motioning to the MP5. “You know how to use that?”
“The handgun, yes.” He held up the MP5. “This thing, no-“
Garbarino and Paul returned, a slew of backpacks on their backs and in their arms.
Mark pointed to Paul, “-but he does.” After taking two spare clips for the MP5, Mark handed the weapon to his brother, who had just deposited the bags at their feet.
Paul inspected the MP5, checked the clip and chambered the first round. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it,” Mark said as he slipped on his backpack.
The exterior hatch swung open. Austin entered and found several weapons aimed in his direction. He paused for a moment, realizing he’d almost been shot, then stepped in and claimed a second handgun for himself. “Those who have never fired a weapon, please don’t aim or fire at something until those of us with experience say so. The switch on the left side is the safety. Switch it to the off position-” He demonstrated this for them. “-point it at your target and pull the trigger.”
“Right,” Chang said. She placed her handgun in her backpack and slung it over her shoulder. She still wore her work clothes. She wasn’t wearing high heels, but her shoes weren’t exactly made for running. “How far do we have to go?”
While most of the people looked at her the way they might a mental patient, Austin said what they were all thinking. “As far as we have to, now-“
A distant scream cut through the air.
“What’s that?” Chang asked.
Austin moved to the hatch, leading with his gun. “They’re coming.” He turned back to the group. “Get those packs on and grab as many weapons as you can carry.”
Garbarino picked up two handguns, one of them being the weapon taken from him previously, and a shotgun. Vanderwarf and White had the MP5s and one handgun each. Collins took the second shotgun.
A gunshot echoed loudly inside the EEP sending hands to ears.
“Fuck!” Garbarino shouted.
“They’re here!” Austin squeezed off two rounds. “Garbarino, take them south. I’ll slow them down!”
Mia followed Garbarino out of the EEP and on to the street of the McMansion lined neighborhood. The blacktop street smelled of new pavement and was bisected by two bright yellow lines, perhaps days old. The maple trees lining the street were bare, and the grass brown, but being the middle of February in what looked like the American Northeast to her, that was expected. What wasn’t expected was the temperature, which Mia pegged around eighty degrees. Other than that aberration, the neighborhood looked like so many others hastily built over the previous ten years. There was no rushing mob, but she did see two bodies lying face down one hundred feet away. As the others exited and followed Garbarino around the backside of the EEP, Mia stopped by Austin. “You shouldn’t stay by yourself.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“You could die.”
“I know I’m not paid to do this anymore, but it’s still my job.” Austin motioned toward Liz. “And it’s not like you can help.”
“What about Garbarino? Why did you put him in charge?”
“He’ll toe the line as long as he feels respected,” Austin said. “If I don’t make it back, he’s in charge in a fight, you’re in charge of everything else. He’ll go for that.”
“If he doesn’t?”
Austin looked over her shoulder. “Then you’ll have help.”
Paul had waited for her. He stood there, brandishing his submachine gun like a true war hero. And he’d heard everything.
“But that’s not going to happen,” Austin said. “I just want to give you a head start. I can catch up.”
A terrified voice called out from the distance.
“Is that one of ours?” Paul asked.
“Wrong direction,” Austin said, taking aim past the two bodies he’d already shot. “Now go!”
Paul took Mia by the arm and led her around the EEP. She was surprised to see Garbarino waiting there for them and wondered if he had heard any of their conversation. But he just waved them on, shouting, “Move your asses!”
Two shots rang out from Austin’s position.
Mia saw the rest of their crew jogging down the street, away from the EEP and the oncoming crowd. She looked back the way they’d come. It didn’t feel right, leaving Austin. But then Liz leaned back, looked her in the eyes and said, “What the hell are you waiting for, Auntie Mia, move your ass!”
She started forward. Then two more shots set them all to running, like horses out of the gate. They didn’t slow until they caught up to Collins, who was already out of breath.
Mia thought about it and realized she’d never seen photos of or heard news about this president going out for jogs. In fact, she seemed to recall he had heart problems. Great.
Two blocks from the EEP, more gunshots rang out. Then a scream. A man’s scream.
Then silence. They all stared back at the EEP, waiting for Austin to come running, but he didn’t.
After a moment, Mia turned to Garbarino, placed her hand on his arm, and very intentionally said, “Lead the way,” all the while feeling like she’d just handed them all over to the devil.
19
Within twenty minutes, Mia, Collins, Chang and the Byers brothers lagged behind their three Secret Service escorts. Mia was in shape, but lacked endurance, especially when carrying a fifty pound seven year old. Liz seemed to sense this and tapped her shoulder. “I can run now,” the girl said. “I’m not afraid anymore.”
Mia looked the girl in the eyes. “You sure?”
She nodded.
“Stay right next to me.”
The nod continued. Mia put her down, then put her hands on her knees while she caught her breath. The brothers and Chang stopped with her, while Collins walked on ahead, his body soaked in sweat.
Garbarino heard the number of moving feet behind him change and turned around. “Hey! Keep moving.”
“We need to rest,” Mia said.
“Those people might still be chasing us,” he said, stomping toward her.
“There hasn’t been a sound or a gunshot for a while,” she countered.
Garbarino stood above her. “That’s probably because Austin is dead and those sons-a-bitches are sneaking up on us. Now…” He took her arm and yanked her up. “Move!”
“Hey!” Liz shouted and went to hit Garbarino, but Mia caught her little fist.
She stood face-to-face with the man, and when she did she realized she stood a good two inches taller. “Right now, if those people charged us, I wouldn’t have the energy to run. We’ve been through a lot and the non-stop adrenaline rush of being launched into space by a series of nuclear blasts, watching the world be destroyed, floating in zero gravity, dropping back down to Earth and then being attacked by crazed survivors, is starting to wear off.”
Garbarino’s face slowly fell as he listened to her. The words seemed to suck the energy out of him. He looked around the neighborhood. “Houses up there look big. Might be a good place to hole up.”
Mia looked up the road and saw several new and very large houses. They were the kind contractors built in a month, the kind she mocked when she drove by, but right now they looked incredibly normal and inviting. She smiled. “Thank you.”
“Let’s move,” Chang said. “Maybe the plumbing still works.”
Mark followed after her. “I could go for a shower.”
“I’ll take a bath,” Paul said, loping ahead of the other two, looking ridiculous with his submachine gun.
Mia took Liz’s hand and nodded at Garbarino. “You did the right thing.”
“Yeah, well, let’s hope it doesn’t get us killed.” He motioned for her to get moving and followed behind her. She looked
Move over, Jessica Fletcher, Agatha Christie, and Mary Higgins Clark! Jackie King’s The Inconvenient Corpse: A Grace Cassidy Mystery is a new star in the “Murder at the Bed and Breakfast” Category!
If you like bed and breakfast settings, friendly cats, delightful, quirky characters and a little tea thrown in with your murder, you’ll love Jackie King’s The Inconvenient Corpse: A Grace Cassidy Mystery
Here’s the set-up:
The man was about 60, pot bellied, quite naked and also quite dead. And in the middle of Grace Cassidy’s bed.
She ran from the room, her shouts sounding throughout the Victorian bed and breakfast. As she blurted the news, she didn’t realize that she would have to solve this mystery, with or without help.
Reviewers were charmed and “at home” with this mystery in the old fashioned style reminiscent of Agatha Christie:
A naked corpse in her bed is only the first surprise for our heroine in Jackie King’s charming bed-and-breakfast mystery. Cozy readers will be happy guests among these lively characters.
—Marcia Preston, winner of the 2004 Mary Higgins Clark Award
If you like bed and breakfast settings, friendly cats, delightful, quirky characters and a little tea thrown in with your murder, you’ll love The Inconvenient Corpse.
—Bob Avey, author of Beneath a Buried House and Twisted Perception
This book is a delight. The dialog is slick and fast flowing. I felt so at home with the believable quirky, colorful characters that they almost felt like friends by the time I had finished the book.
I must admit I love the “bed and breakfast and murder” books. Grace Cassidy is just the kind of heroine I like to meet. Grace just thought losing all her money along with her husband (to another woman) was the worst thing that could happen to her. She has to put all that on the back burner to clear herself of a murder charge. Grace has to learn how to run a B&B and become a detective all on the fly.
This is one of the best new cozy series I’ve read in quite a while. It’s full of interesting characters (rather than cartoon-types), written with a deft, light touch.
What a great read! It held my interest from page 1 and never let me go! The characters were interesting and the deeper into the story, the more hooked I was. I especially loved that I couldn’t figure it out until the very end.
About the Author:
Jackie King loves books, words, and writing tall tales. She especially enjoys murdering the people she dislikes on paper. King is a full time writer who also teaches writing at Tulsa Community College. THE INCONVENIENT CORPSE, her latest novel, is a traditional (cozy) mystery.
, her latest novel, is a traditional (cozy) mystery.
King has also written five novellas as co-author of the Foxy Hens series. “Warm Love on Cold Streets” is her latest novella and is included in the anthology THE FOXY HENS MEET A ROMANTIC ADVENTURER
.
. Her nonfiction book, DEVOTED TO COOKING
, is a collection of family stories and recipes. She is a member of Sisters in Crime, Mystery Writers of America, Romance Writers of America, Oklahoma Writers Federation and Tulsa NightWriters.
, is a collection of family stories and recipes. She is a member of Sisters in Crime, Mystery Writers of America, Romance Writers of America, Oklahoma Writers Federation and Tulsa NightWriters. And here, in the comfort of your own browser, is your free sample:
Kindle Nation Daily Free Book Alert, Saturday, February 12: Two Brand New Freebies Top Our List of Over 220 Free Kindle Books, plus … Think “Da Vinci Code meets Indiana Jones” and You’ve Got Joanna Penn’s Pentecost: A Thriller (Today’s Sponsor)
It’s a Winter Weekend, you’ve got your Kindle handy, and you’re ready to set aside a few hours to read! You could scroll down to check out the business books that are this morning’s latest additions to our 220+ Free Book Alert listings…. But first….
But first, a word from … Today’s Sponsor
A power kept secret for 2000 years. A brotherhood broken by murder. A woman who stands to lose everything…
“…A thriller in every sense of the word. If you are looking for action, suspense, drama, and an exciting, intelligent narrative that takes you to exotic locations, this is a book for you.” –Write On!
Text-to-Speech: Enabled
Don’t have a Kindle? Get yours here.
? Get yours here. Raiders of the Lost Ark meets the Da Vinci Code!
Here’s the set-up:
When Jesus of Nazareth rose from the dead, the Apostles took stones from his tomb as a symbol of their brotherhood. At Pentecost, the fire of the Holy Spirit empowered the stones and the Apostles performed miracles in God’s name throughout the Empire. Forged in the fire and blood of the Christian martyrs, the Pentecost stones were handed down through generations of Keepers who kept their power and locations secret.
Until now.
The Keepers are being murdered, the stones stolen by those who would use them for evil in a world transformed by religious fundamentalism. Oxford University psychologist Morgan Sierra is forced into the search when her sister and niece are held hostage. She is helped by Jake Timber from the mysterious ARKANE, a British government agency specializing in paranormal and religious experience.
From ancient Christian sites in Spain, Italy and Israel to the far reaches of Iran and Tunisia, Morgan and Jake must track down the stones through the myths of the early church in a race against time before a new Pentecost is summoned, this time powered by the fire of evil.
What the Reviewers Say
“Pentecost is a cracking read. Joanna Penn has created a novel that is highly entertaining and has a definite “unputdownableness”. There is plenty to keep you entertained with great characters that have oodles of story left in them (more please … Pentecost II?) and a plot that is equally enjoyable and “uncomplicatedly” complicated… I enjoyed this novel immensely and I highly recommend it.”
–Damian Cox
–Damian Cox
“The first paragraph of Pentecost grabbed me by the lapels of my jacket and didn’t let go. It is a gripping tale – part thriller, part historical fiction but all good and all of the time intertwined between great characters and narration. Joanna Penn’s descriptions of places are excellent and make the reader feel as if they are actually there. The characters are three-dimensional with very good dialogue that moves the plot forward.”
—Joseph L. Giacalone, author
About the Author
I’m an author, speaker and business consultant based in Brisbane, Australia although I’m British. I’ve just started writing religious thriller novels and my first one, Pentecost 
is available now.
is available now.
I’m passionate about digital publishing and using the internet to build a platform, market and promote books worldwide. It is an exciting time in publishing! Authors have the chance to get their work out worldwide using new technologies. Brilliant!
Click here to download Pentecost. A Thriller. (or a free sample) to your Kindle, iPad, iPhone, iPod Touch, BlackBerry, Android-compatible, PC or Mac and start reading within 60 seconds!
to download Pentecost. A Thriller. (or a free sample) to your Kindle, iPad, iPhone, iPod Touch, BlackBerry, Android-compatible, PC or Mac and start reading within 60 seconds!UK CUSTOMERS: Click on the title below to download
Each day’s list is sponsored by one paid title. We encourage you to support our sponsors and thank you for considering them.
Authors, Publishers, iPad Accessory Manufacturers:
Interested in learning more about sponsorship? Just click on this link for more information.
Free Contemporary Titles in the Kindle Store
HOW TO USE OUR NEW FREE BOOK TOOL:
Just use the slider at right of your screen below to scroll through a complete, updated list of free contemporary Kindle titles, and click on an icon like this one (at right) to read a free sample right here in your browser! Titles are sorted in reverse chronological order so you can easily see new freebies.
Discover what’s causing all the buzz about our Kindle Nation eBook of the Day, Terrence O’Brien’s The Templar Concordat – Here’s a Free Sample!
Today’s Kindle Nation eBook of the Day came out of nowhere last week to make the list of the Top 25 Most Wanted Books at the Kindle Lending Club, our EBOTD partner site. Isn’t it time for you to find out what all the buzz is about?
 |
Download it now for $2.99 on Kindle! |
When the truth is your greatest danger, and the enemy knows the truth, things can only go downhill when the enemy finally gets the proof. And that’s the proof the Hashashin get when they steal what the Vatican doesn’t even know it has.
Now the infallible decrees of two Twelfth Century popes and three kings, stolen by the Hashashin, threaten to catapult the bigotry, bias, and religious blood baths of the Third Crusade straight into the Twenty-First Century.
When Templars Sean Callahan and Marie Curtis are drawn into the mess, they face an ancient enemy that has already nearly won the battle, a newly elected Mexican pope being undermined by entrenched Vatican powers, world class scholars who will sell their prestige to the highest bidder, and terrorists lingering over lattes in sidewalk cafes.
Moving from Rome to London, Switzerland, and Saudi Arabia, Callahan and Curtis are desperate to find some way to stem the success the Hashashin are having enlisting the majority of moderate Muslims in their Jihad.
Outmanuevered at each step by the Hashashin, only a last ditch roll of the dice has any chance of success. But it’s the only chance they have.
Right here, in the comfort of your own browser, is your free sample: