Archive for the ‘Recommended Reading’ Category

 

 

About the Book

Title: In The Prison of Our Grief

Author: S.E. Amadis

Genre: Action Thriller

A harsh prison in England.

The grisly, tragic murder of three babies.

The murderess is on the loose… And Carrie Anne’s made friends with her. Will she be able to find out the truth in time? Or will she become this sadistic murderess’ next victim?

Once again, Carrie Anne finds herself in the centre of another terrifying ordeal…

In this exciting sequel to Patricia, we follow seventeen-year-old Carrie Anne Houghton and her new comrades-in-arms in a whirling, dizzying, action-packed adventure that spans two continents, from the glitzy high-rises of New York City to the lonely expanses of rural Canada to the glamour and colour of Mediterranean tourist resorts.

Persecution, murder, lies and deceit. Traps, stormy Gothic settings, abandoned mansions and secret passageways. All of this comes to vivid life in the pages of In the Prison of our Grief.

A gripping, fast-paced, action-packed thriller featuring a strong female protagonist and a quirky male counterpart. This book can be read as a standalone.

 

Author Bio

I could never write about a happy, conventional couple living in a happy, conventional, suburban neighbourhood with two cars and one and a half children, a dog and a pet bird, working at happy, conventional, uneventful jobs.

My heroes and heroines have to walk through fire (or rather, crawl through fire), get strangled, beaten, shot at, drowned, poisoned, get caught in tornados or earthquakes or get attacked by mutant gnats. Or, they have to strangle, beat, shoot, drown and poison other people.

A story with anything less than these dramatic, hair-raising elements was always too boring for me to even consider telling.

I believe in magic. I believe that the world is full of mystery, and that there are more things in heaven and earth than could ever be dreamt of in our conventional, logic-based philosophies.

Outside of that, as a dry, mundane list of facts about me, I’m a single parent from a village near Montreal, Canada, who now enjoys the freaking great good fortune to live happily with my two sons on the almost-tropical south coast of Spain, basking in summer eight months of the year. Typical activities include running a marathon with the kids to school every morning and cooking frequently for an Always Hungry teenaged son with four stomachs.

 

Links

Author website: www.SEAmadis.com

Facebook: www.facebook.com/seamadis/

Twitter: @seramadis

Amazon author page, on:

www.amazon.com/S.E.-Amadis/e/B019R5T9SW/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1

or

www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=cm_cr_arp_d_pdt_bl_sr?ie=UTF8&field-keywords=S.E.+Amadis

You can purchase the book at:

www.amazon.com/Prison-Gripping-Fast-Paced-Action-Thriller-ebook/dp/B01ATOL51O/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8

or

www.amazon.co.uk/Prison-Gripping-Fast-Paced-Action-Thriller-ebook/dp/B01ATOL51O/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1485418787&sr=8-4&keywords=S.E.+Amadis


Book Excerpts

Excerpt 1

 

I yelped, snatched my arm away from him instinctively. The knife blade drove into the floorboards beside me and my captor burst into crazed laughter.

“You do know how they mutilated my sweet Agate,” he said, and a shudder of sadness trembled through him. “Of course you do. God, I can’t stand to think of these things. I don’t want to remember.”

He glared at me with fiery eyes.

“But for you I will make that sacrifice. For you I will remember. Just so you can pay.”

He passed the flat part of his blade along the wound in my arm, flipping it first on one side, then the other, almost as if he were cleaning it out on my grimy sleeve.

“I always wondered why you chose to cut her arm.” He raised his gaze and stared deep into mine. “And why mutilate her?” He took a deep breath. “If you wanted her dead, why didn’t you just kill her? Deal that final blow in one merciful instant. Why did you torture her? Are you a sadist? Do you get off inflicting pain on babies, for shit’s sake?”

I blinked. I had no idea how to answer him. Deep inside I was longing to defend myself, but horror made me mute.

“I-I didn’t do it,” I whispered in as loud a voice as I could. My throat felt closed off and dry, and it was all I could do to force out even the slightest sound. Tears welled from my eyes, poured out onto my cheeks. “I didn’t do it,” I whispered again. “You’re making a mistake…”

Mr. Walsh froze, his calm gaze resting on me almost as if he were a friend. He glanced down, at the knife in his hand, at my slender wrist pulsating with terror and dread at every heartbeat. Tears streamed freely down my face now. He reached out a finger and caught a tear on the tip of his finger. Studied the droplet as if suddenly filled with compassion.

“Are these… tears of… remorse, because you’re sorry for what you did, Carola?” he hissed. “Or… are you crying because… you’re scared of what I’m going to do to you?” His face twisted up. “Do you think Agatha was scared of you, when you did those… horrors… to her? Do you think she cried, and screamed in vain for someone to come and save her? Do you think she died filled with agony, believing at the very last moment of her life that no one cared about her or loved her enough to come to her rescue?”

He drew the blade against my wound, pressing harder this time. A thin spot of blood welled up, blended with the filth on my sleeve.

“Yes. You couldn’t cut through the bone, because that blunt kitchen knife simply wasn’t up to the task. But you did cut her flesh all the way down to the bone. You tortured her.”

He posed the sharp edge of his knife over the wound in my arm, studied the angle the way a butcher studies his prime cuts.

“And that’s exactly what I’m going to do to you…”

 

Excerpt 2

 

I saw you waltz in there like you owned the world. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw you. Couldn’t for the life of me fathom what the hell would you be doing in a place like this, where people only come to relax and have fun. I thought by now you would’ve graduated to being chief warden of Alcatraz or something.

You came in and bought some frilly tops and mini-skirts. My eyes nearly popped out of my head when I saw your purchases. I couldn’t believe you, of all people, the greatest ice queen and prude the world has known, would ever be caught dead wearing such romantic, light-hearted affairs.

I rang up your purchases, amazed that you didn’t recognize me. After all, for three years you’d led me to workshops and appointments with the institution’s psychologists. You frisked me before accompanying me to the nursery, your hands cold and hard as if you were touching inanimate metal instead of living skin and nerves. You doled out my punishments on an almost daily basis, practically cackled into my face when I got sent to solitary.

You delighted in inventing any excuse to get me into trouble. I’m sure you planted things on me just so I could get called out, get my privileges withdrawn, look bad with the other wardens and psychologists and get assigned the toughest tasks that no one wanted. You invented wrongdoings that I wasn’t guilty of so I couldn’t get to spend as much time with my baby as the other ladies.

Time.

That was the one thing I never got enough of.

Time to see my baby. To hold her in my arms and cuddle her close. To feel her heart beating against mine, soft and fluttery like a dream. To hear her cooing. To watch her growing.

To see her grow up strong and brave and beautiful.

That was the one thing you never gave me.

That was what you took from me.

Every day I swore I would make you pay for what you did, Carola Hochmeister.

I lived for the day I would face you and tell you into your face what I planned to do with you. How I planned to skin you alive. How I meant to gouge that knife deep into your flesh, the way you did to my baby. How I meant to tear into you, and mutilate you, and draw out your agony for as long as you could bear.

How I planned to make you cry and scream until your throat became raw.

And how I planned, in the end, to cut that throat of yours. Slowly. Pleasurably. Inch by tiny inch. Just one slit, one inch. Then a pause. Then another inch. Watch your pathetic life bleed out in languid, slow-motion trickles. The same way you watched my baby’s life bleed out.

 


Sci-Fi

Date Published: Jan 2016 (paperback Dec 2016)

 

Sam, an ex-soldier who is trying to rediscover himself after twenty years of service, unwittingly stumbles upon a mysterious alien presence in rural Wales. He is drawn into a tangled web of intrigue, pitting him against forces bent on destruction and putting his life in peril. Feeling mentally eroded by his time in the army and having worked hard to overcome this, he is thrust upon an alien journey that will change his life and beliefs in a profound way.

Claims of benevolence are only the beginning of the mysteries he’ll have to unravel as doubt and mistrust haunt him. He will have to form unlikely alliances in order to fathom the mysteries at the secret Mineran enclave, where intrigue, deception and imminent danger reside.

His journey for answers will introduce him to pernicious enemies with hidden agendas, as a heinous plot to kill him unravels. Can he defeat his personal demons to secure justice and discover the truth of who or what is behind the nefarious machinations and why?

 
 


Born in England and raised in Wales, I started my working life on a farm in the glorious rural Welsh countryside.  I retrained to become an IT Consultant and having spent thousands on Microsoft, CompTIA and Cisco qualifications; I also obtained a contract to run and teach at a Cisco Academy in England.  After this, I became a small business IT Advisor for WCBC and the Welsh Government.  As this funding dried up, I retrained as a Business Advisor and have since helped thousands of people start up their own businesses.

In my leisure time, I work my way through a comprehensive bucket list with my Fiancée, Cath. This has caused us great delight as we have attended various courses and fun days out, such as beekeeping, pottery making, stained glass making, painting course, cooking courses, hawk walks, animal experiences, quad biking, gorge walking and much more. Our favourite one is learning to dance. This activity has remained with us and will hopefully do so for the rest of our lives. We can do a reasonable Waltz, collapse in laughter trying the Viennese Waltz, but it is the 1920’s Lindy Hop that we have fallen in love with. After three years of dancing, we still attend regular dance classes and events.

Strangely, for an ex-geek, my favourite gadget is my Italian Marcato pasta machine. I love real, unprocessed food and my freshly made pasta with a home cooked sauce is amazing.

I have always enjoyed reading, and in my early teenage years, I read authors ranging from Harry Harrison to HG Wells. Later in life, I turned to thriller writers such as the 3 C’s; Clancy, Cussler and Child. Also, I will always have a Pratchett book on my phone for light reading. His imagination was and always will be, inspiring. I have wanted to write the Mineran Series for several years prior to actually starting and with the encouragement from Cath, who has suffered my many varied, imaginative pranks over the years, I have begun.

 

Contact Information

Website: www.pnburrows.com

Facebook: /pnburrows

Twitter: @pnburows

Goodreads:   https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/28531297-mineran-influence

 

 

Purchase Links

Amazon UK:   https://www.amazon.co.uk/Mineran-Influence-P-N-Burrows/dp/1540536785/

Amazon USA: https://www.amazon.com/Mineran-Influence-1-P-Burrows/dp/1540536785/

~ All That Glitters by Liza Treviño ~
Book Tour – 1st to 10th March
 




Book Details:


Title: All That Glitters – A
Tale of Sex, Drugs and Hollywood Dreams

Author: Liza Treviño
Genre: Women’s Contemporary Fiction
Publisher: Koehler Books 
Published Date: March 1, 2017
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1633933083
ISBN-13: 978-1633933088



Book Links:






Synopsis:
Alexandria Moreno—clever, sexy, ambitious and, at times, self-destructive. She blazes a path from Texas to Los Angeles at the dawn of the 1980s to make her dreams of becoming an A-list Hollywood film director come true. She and her best friend arrive in Los Angeles with little more than hope and the determination to make it big. Alex, a beauty as dark and mysterious as her scarred heart, stands at the bottom of the Hollywood mountain looking up, fighting for her chance to climb to the top. Will her quest to live fast and take no prisoners on her way to success destroy her in the end?


All That Glitters is a women’s fiction Jackie Collins-type saga that introduces a strong, driven Latina heroine at the center of a rags-to-riches story spanning a decade of action. Along the way, Alexandria walks the fine line separating ambition and self-destruction, and discovers that some sacrifices will cost her everything.


What early readers are saying:


“Treviño tells her story with wit, intelligence, and an undercurrent of sadness at the plight women face to make a name for themselves as human beings instead of strictly as women. Treviño may have cloaked her ideas in entertaining vignettes and snappy dialogue, but underneath is a bite that stays with you.”
— Jonathan Marcantoni, author and publisher of La Casita Grande Press.

“Liza has a way of taking you with her as she tells this very compelling story. She draws readers in with her as she describes scenes and characters with colorful detail and vivid imagination. This story is a testament to it’s title: it really glitters!”
—Reesha Goral, author, The Servant Boy

“With distant echoes of Jacqueline Susann’s Valley of the Dolls in the background, Alexandria Moreno, the protagonist of All that Glitters, chases after the allure of Hollywood, all the time substituting pills, booze and sex for genuine happiness. It is only after she reaches success that she has an awakening leading her to realize the emptiness of her aspiration, and finally accepting true love. Kudos to Liza Treviño for giving us this unique image of the New Latina! I urge reading All that Glitters. You won’t regret it.”

—Graciela Limón, author


Read an Excerpt:


Los Angeles
Oscar Night, 1990

When did things start going wrong?
Alexandria Moreno gulped another swig of champagne from the bottle. She picked at its broken gold foil. It was the same stuff she used to buy back in the days when spending more than ten dollars on bubbly was an extravagance. Now she sat in the best limo money could buy, inching along the craggy hillside road waiting for her turn to put in an appearance at the first of many scheduled post-Oscar parties. She was obligated to dole out heartfelt hugs and kisses to any of the beautiful people who might want one. Tonight, everyone was going to want a piece of her. She was the girl of the hour.
Until recently, Moreno had been an unknown writer-producer. She rocked Hollywood, winning Academy Awards for Best Director and Original Screenplay for the lushly violent, low-budget film, Win or Lose. Moreno, widely considered a dark horse contestant in the Oscar race, was the first Hispanic woman to be nominated, and win.
Two golden statues for writing and directing lay on the limo’s floor and the vehicle glided to the top of Hollywood’s heights. Beyond the winding canyon road, the Los Angeles electrified grid shimmered like Moreno’s own personal cauldron of gold. She understood that more than just a movie had won tonight.
She had won.
So why doesn’t it feel better?
Why don’t I feel better?
Despite everything she’d done to reach this moment of glory, Alex understood that none of it mattered. Not one bit. No matter what happened to her, she was still alone and drinking the same convenience-store champagne.
“Want some of this blow, babe?” Nick sniffed and dropped his head back with a slight shake, giving the chemicals a little jumpstart in the brain he liked to say.
“No thanks,” she said, “I don’t want to mix tonight.” Alex turned her attention from the scrubby hillside to handsome Nick Sirianni sitting across from her, casually relaxed in his Armani tuxedo. Though he favored stiff Wall Street suits, Nick was always casually relaxed due to the fact that he was worth millions from a Hollywood Midas touch.
Alex heard Leonard Cohen’s gravel-rubbed, breathless voice floating faintly through the air, crooning his patented melancholy love proclamations, and she couldn’t help but let her eyes wander along Nick’s impeccably tailored suit. Her hands absently grazed the familiar bluish-purple marks on her wrists currently hidden under make-up.
Nick’s thin lips curled into a slow, understanding grin. “Fine, but I have some X for later, and I don’t care what you’ve taken already,” he said in a tone Alex had learned not to question. “I’ve got plans for you, babe.”
“I guess it’s gonna be a long night.”
“The longest ever.”
Alex could tell he had taken off. She absently twirled a lock of her black, shoulder-length hair.
“Hey,” Nick nudged her leg with his polished leather dress shoe, “let me see.”
“Not right now.”
“I’m not asking, Alley Cat. Let me see. And do it right.”
Alex locked eyes with him, but she relented.
She found the fold of her straight wraparound skirt of crepe and beading that draped to the floor. She peeled it back and uncrossed her legs beneath the gown, giving Nick a peek-a-boo of her
narrow ankle and high-heeled foot. She loosened her knees, proving to Nick she’d followed his instructions.
Nick looked her over and loosened his collar.
“Good girl,” Nick said and shifted toward her, the leather seat creaking beneath him. He knelt between her legs and softly traced the length of her pale grey stocking from her shoe, along her leg, up to the matching garter, and over her supple brown thigh exposed between the garter and its straps. Nick kissed her just above where the stockings ended. He breathed in deeply and peered up to her.
“I gotta have a taste, baby,” he said and dipped his handsome face between her thighs.
Alex sighed and sank back into her seat.
How did things get so out of control? Isn’t tonight supposed to be everything I’ve worked for? Everything I’ve sacrificed for? Or, what I’ve sacrificed everyone for?
Alex knew she had purposely cut off anyone who had the misfortune of ever giving a damn about her. And there were such people.
It certainly wasn’t Nick. She’d made her deal with this particular devil nearly a year ago. Things between them were comfortably tawdry. Nick owned her. She knew it. He knew it. They had an understanding.
A flicker nudged her: so many things that could have been. She took another swig of champagne, letting the alcohol’s fizz and burn push everything back into the darkness.
Alex registered Nick’s velvet tongue expertly stroking her crevices, and she couldn’t help but give him all the access he wanted. She felt him smile when she dropped her head back and settled deeper into the limo’s bench. The car halted forward and the lazy, swaying sax turned up the tension in Cohen’s sonic plea for love.
Alex peered beyond the cracked sunroof, searching the starless LA sky for some answers. A corner of the tinted sunroof caught her faint reflection and she saw a vacant-eyed, thirty two-year-old wasted stranger. She’d never known herself less than at this moment. Her passion for work was burned out and, even tonight, she couldn’t muster excitement. Now, everything was just a game requiring too much effort.
She shut her eyes tight and sucked in air sharply, breathing in the car’s mixture of broken-in leather and artificial lemon scents. She clasped at Nick’s broad shoulder, wringing the expensive jacket sleeve as if it were nothing more than a cheap cocktail napkin. After a moment, she relaxed.
Nick brushed a sweet kiss on her inner thigh before he returned the thin black crepe material of her skirt to its full length. He slid back to his seat across from her and smoothed his hair back.
“Damn, you taste good, honey.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“We’re next in line, ma’am,” the chauffeur’s voice crackled through the intercom. The limo moved into place with a definite stop.
Nick grinned. “It’s show time, Alley Cat.”
The cool night air took Alex by surprise as she waded into the sea of people and flashing cameras. She staggered, unsure she could move.
“One foot in front of the other,” Nick said in his soft voice through her hair. “I’ll get you a drink once we get inside.”
Alex smiled serenely and nodded. She focused on the live band somewhere in the distance belting out a Sinatra standard. Her eyes found the majestic Griffith Observatory looming in the distance, hovering above the white party tents.
Inside, the camera flashes kept coming.
“And here we are,” Nick offered as he swiped a couple of champagne flutes from a roving waiter’s tray. “This should get ya right, babe.”
Alex took the glass automatically. Another bulb flashed near her and she saw blue sprinkles. She regained focus quickly, but then her stomach dropped. Across the room was the last person she wanted to see.

◊◊◊

Jamie Douglas stood out in any crowd. Angular looks punctuated by oceanic blue eyes, a naturally lean athleticism, and down-to-earth boyishness had made him a reigning movie star around the world for almost twenty years. And right now, Alex saw Jamie’s eyes find hers through the crowd. When they caught each other, a flash sparked between them like one of those popping camera bulbs. Jamie’s surprised look gave way to a lopsided grin; it was a look so familiar to her.
Alex registered Nick snake his arm around her thin waist and she broke her gaze from Jamie.
“Okay, Alley Cat, time for our victory lap.”
“Perfect timing,” she said.
Timing—everything always came down to timing. It seemed to her that her timing had always been off. Not crazy off, just that extra millisecond that pushed everything either too early or too late. And now, she understood that it was too late.
Suddenly, she couldn’t bear to go through with the whole charade of tonight. Maybe, she couldn’t even bear to go through with the whole charade of her life any longer. Just leave, a soft voice whispered inside her head. There’s nothing written you have to stick around. It’s practically programmed into your DNA that you’ll be checking out of this world early.
All at once, Alex understood that simple fact. She, Alex Moreno, would leave Los Angeles tonight as anonymously as she had arrived nearly a decade earlier. She knew that wasn’t an entirely accurate account of how she’d started.
Now I’m alone, and that’s just how I knew things would always turn out.

Author Bio:

Liza Treviño hails from Texas, spending many of her formative years on the I-35 corridor of San Antonio, Austin and Dallas.  In pursuit of adventure and a Ph.D., Liza moved to Los Angeles where she compiled a collection of short-term, low-level Hollywood jobs like script girl, producer assistant and production assistant.  Her time as a Hollywood Jane-of-all-trades gave her an insider’s view to a world most only see from the outside, providing the inspiration for creating a new breed of Latina heroine.






Catch Up with Liza Treviño on her Website