Do you like to read?
I've found that simple question to be a downright awesome ice-breaker when doing street promo for my work. Most of the time the person says, "Yes, I do." Okay, usually the first thing they say is "What?" No one expects a stranger to come up to them in the airport, on the street, in a hotel lobby or anywhere else and ask them something like that. But it's a simple, innocent question, so then it progresses on to either a "yes" or a "no" answer. If they say yes, I hand them a promo bookmark and suggest they might like my award-winning series, and the conversation may go on from there or not. Even when they say no, they don't like to read, I might say "That's a shame. I was hoping you might want to check out my series of novels. Most people who read them thought they were pretty good." Even then, about half will take a bookmark just because they met a real live author.
Okay, so what does that have to do with my upcoming paperback release? Well, maybe not much more than this:
Do you like to read? Do you like white-knuckle thrillers that will keep you awake till the wee hours of the morning for just one more page, just to see what happens next? I think you'll like my second novel, Unalive, from MuseItUp Publishing. Okay, yes, this is shameless self-promotion. But it's true. I've had several fans (Yay! I got fans!!!) send me messages blaming poor lil' ol' moi for making them lose sleep reading late into the night to find out what wwill happen to Nadia, Jon, and even Jenna.
Wait, you don't remember Jenna? She's Nadia's personal physical therapist from Becoming NADIA, who turned out to be one of the bad guys, and spent most of the book with her leg in a cast. Well, she's back, and this time there's no cast in the way of her totally-ass-kicking abilities. Yes, that's her looking all "Do NOT get in my way!" on the cover, and she lives up to the attitude, 110%.
Wow, some physical therapist. Turns out, she's more important to The NADIA Project than anyone ever figured. Even the author of the series. Seriously. Those of you who have read Becoming NADIA know there was a huge, open loose end dangling out there where everyone could see. Mainly, there is a walking, talking living anti-matter BOMB still loose on the earth, who's a grave danger to anyone in a ten mile radius. That alone says there's more to the story. I either had to render NADIA V inert, or... I couldn't bear to think of what might happen if she died by either natural or other means.
So there's more to the story. There's also more to the characters than anyone thought (even the author). When I sat down to write this one, Jenna appeared in my brain and told me more about herself, and what makes her tick. So I got to write more than just bullets flying and bodies dropping, and the world in imminent peril. I got to show some real people, being real people, and I got to show that heroes are usually normal folks in seriously abnormal conditions who just find ways to muddle through. And I got to show a little more about a love that survived beyond a grave.
So there you have it. I'd really like you to check out my Unalive. It's coming out in paperback the 30th of this month, and if you buy the paperback from MuseItUp Publishing direct, you can get the eBook for FREE! www.tinyurl.com/unalive-novel
I do believe you'll like it. If you do, write me back and let me know: firstname.lastname@example.org
Jon tried the door; it opened easily and swung on well-oiled hinges. The brightness of the lab area beyond blinded him. He paused to let his eyes adjust before entering. A couple of steps in, he turned back to make sure Sharon still followed him.
The large rectangular room was illuminated with bright fluorescent panels. Along both of the long walls, with enough room for someone to walk between, ran two rows of long dark cylinders with sleek rounded ends. Each cylinder looked like a streamlined casket, about eight feet long and more than two feet wide. Jon counted twenty in all, ten in each row, with a wide aisle down the middle. Mounted on the wall over each, a large monitor screen displayed vital signs and strings of numbers. Networks of wires led from masses of electronic components to each cylinder. Countless knobs and dials adorned the fronts of all the boxes and components. Meters and smaller displays rolled, pointed, and flashed at various intervals. The sound that drew them here was more insistent, though not necessarily louder, than what they had heard in the hall outside.
Seated at a desk against the far wall was a solitary lab technician, a petite young woman with short cinnamon-colored hair. She sat with her back to the door and seemed oblivious to the intruders in her area. They crept forward, their steps masked by the background noise of the equipment. Jon’s heart slammed against his chest like a trip hammer as he scanned the lab area, looking for any threat hidden among the rows of cylinders.
He stepped up to the first. Through a window in the top, he could see a vague shape in the darkness of the cylinder. When he bent close to the lid and peered in, a light came on inside, possibly triggered by a proximity sensor. His stomach did flip-flops as he realized what lay there.
The form was humanoid, or would be when it was complete. The skin was either transparent, or not yet formed. Sightless eyes goggled at nothing; there was no mind to understand what they saw. In shape, it could only be female, although the organs he could see told him this was no human. White blood pulsed through arteries and veins still exposed to the environment within the cylinder.
He’d seen enough. Here was all the evidence he needed to bust the organization of the Pinnacle wide open, and here was someone who could lead him up the ladder. He strode to the other end of the lab. The technician was so engrossed in what she was doing, she never turned.
He came right up to her and touched her on the shoulder, intending to turn her around and put her on the floor so she could be trussed up. But he no sooner had a hand on her shoulder when something grabbed his arm and gave a twist. Jon’s world went crazy as he flew through the air, bounced off a wall, and landed on his stomach. A knee pressed hard into the back of his neck, pinning him to the floor. He heard the snick of a safety catch right behind his ear as a familiar voice shouted at Sharon. “Drop the gun, sister! Drop it or his brains are all over the floor!”