December Contest Time! #Giveaway #Books @SterlingGate @MorcanJames

Hiiiii, All!

I’m excited this week!

Hopefully a good majority of you will remember my review of father/son writing team’s thriller, Silent Fear. If not, check it out HERE!

Now, Lance and James Morcan are offering you a WONDERFUL chance at yet another giveaway! This time, you can have YOUR choice of their books! Love thrillers? Then you have a chance to win Silent Fear. Love historical fiction? Well, tell them you want  World Odyssey. I quite loved Silent Fear, so I’m pretty sure that the rest of their works are amazing!

Hurry up! One lucky winner, one book (They all seem to have high reviews, which is awesome)!

The contest will run from December 18 until December 23. I have the link below each book for you awesome readers and followers to check out the blurbs, reviews and more!

To enter, click RIGHT HERE!

See the source imageSilent Fear (A novel inspired by true crimes) by [Morcan, Lance, Morcan, James]White Spirit (A novel based on a true story) by [Morcan, Lance, Morcan,James]Into the Americas (A novel based on a true story) by [Morcan, Lance, Morcan, James]The Ninth Orphan (The Orphan Trilogy Book 1) by [Morcan, James, Lance Morcan]World Odyssey (The World Duology Book 1) by [Morcan, Lance, Morcan, James]

Silent Fear – genres: crime-thriller, horror, romance, sci-fi

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B075HRYTVC/   

White Spirit – historical adventure, romance, action

https://www.amazon.com/White-Spirit-novel-based-story-ebook/dp/B01LWIRH9J/

Into the Americas – historical adventure, romance, action

http://www.amazon.com/Into-Americas-novel-based-story-ebook/dp/B00YJKM51E/

The Ninth Orphan – international thriller, conspiracy, espionage, romance, action

http://amazon.com/dp/B0056I4FKC/

World Odyssey – historical adventure, romance, action

http://www.amazon.com/World-Odyssey-Duology-1-ebook/dp/B00HHVOMO0/

Silent Fear Kindle Giveaway

Thanks to everyone who entered the “Silent Fear” ARC/Paperback giveaway! We are less than a week in concluding this contest!

For information on how to enter, click here!

Additionally, one of the authors contacted me to say they’re willing to gift THREE of my followers with a kindle version in honor of Halloween!

Hurry! You don’t have much time! Just until October 30!

To enter the Kindle giveaway, click here!

I started reading and so far, I’m loving it!

It’s fresh, it’s original…wait…I need to finish before I review! 😛

Silent Fear ~ Giveaway, ARC ~ Check It Out!

Happy October fellow readers/writers!

I have a proposal for you! I’ve been asked to help promote a new novel, Silent Fear, which sounds pretty awesome, if I may sound so myself. I’ve even accepted an ARC and can’t wait to start reading! Below, I included all the information you would need and want!

Before we get down to the basics of the book, the authors are searching for PDF ARC readers before the Kindle version is released on October 31. The paperback is currently available now on Amazon for $24.99. If you’re interested in the PDF copy, click here. It’ll take you to a sign up page where you’ll request the book and the authors will send it to you. But hurry! The offer is only good until October 30 to receive their ARC!

And that’s not all! You have a chance of winning a paperback of Silent Fear. I’m joining forces with them to choose one lucky winner. Interested? Click here to do so: Rafflecopter giveaway for Silent Fear.


About the book: Silent Fear is dedicated to the many millions of deaf people around the world. It is the eighth published novel by New Zealand father-and-son writing team Lance and James Morcan, authors of The Ninth Orphan, Into the Americas and White Spirit.

Set in present-day London, Silent Fear was inspired by the murders of several deaf students at Gallaudet University, one of the world’s most prestigious learning institutions for the deaf, in Washington, D.C.

A decade in the making, it was written under the guidance of leading deaf filmmaker Brent Macpherson whose commentary on the unique aspects of deaf culture the story covers appears at the end of the book. Together, the Morcans and Macpherson are developing a feature film adaptation of Silent Fear.

Blurb: Scotland Yard detective Valerie Crowther is assigned to investigate the murder of a student at a university for the Deaf in London, England. The murder investigation coincides with a deadly flu virus outbreak, resulting in the university being quarantined from the outside world. When more Deaf students are murdered, it becomes clear there is a serial killer operating within the sealed-off university. A chilling cat-and-mouse game evolves as the unknown killer targets Valerie and the virus claims more lives.

Selling via Amazon – The kindle version is available now in Amazon’s Pre-order program and will be auto-delivered to kindle buyers on October 31; the paperback is available now on Amazon.

For more information about their books and to read reviews, here are their Amazon and Goodreads pages:

Amazon

Goodreads

I’ve included the links to the authors’ bio. Click on their names beneath their head shots to learn more about them and their past publications!

           Lance Morcan                                  James Morcan

To join their discussion group on Goodreads, click here Silent World.

Don’t forget to check out their awesome trailer on YouTube to help promote their new book and a planned feature film! Silent Fear trailer.


Thanks and happy reading!

Angela Kay
Author of The Murder of Manny Grimes

“Blur” Book Blitz

Book & Author Details:Curse
Curse by Steven James
(Blur Trilogy #3)
Published by: Skyscape
Publication date: May 24th 2016
Genres: Thriller, Young Adult
 

Synopsis:
Don’t miss this intriguing and climactic conclusion to the Blur Trilogy.
As Daniel Byers prepares to attend a basketball camp before his senior year of high school, the terrifying blurs that’ve plagued him for the last nine months return.Dark images begin to haunt him—creatures crawling from the deepest pits of his nightmares, glimmers of chilling memories from his early childhood. But before he can unearth the meaning behind his mysterious hallucinations, Daniel must team up with two other extraordinary teens to save a young woman who has been abducted by a scientist obsessed with enacting his own warped form of justice.This atmospheric mystery picks up where Fury left off and takes readers into the uncharted regions where reality and madness intertwine.

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/28230959-curse?from_new_nav=true&ac=1&from_search=true

Purchase:

 
Enter for a chance to win a copy of “Blur”
https://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/d04251231236/

Read below for an Excerpt:
 
CHAPTER ONE

FRIDAY, JUNE 7

COUNTY HIGHWAY G

5 MILES OUTSIDE OF BELDON, WISCONSIN

Dusk.
The forest, thick on each side of the road, lies caught in the deep shadows of the coming night. Lake Algonquin sits nestled among them.

A net of darkness settles across the woods.

Though I’m driving, there’s no traffic and I’m alone in the car, so I sneak a quick glance at my phone.

No texts from Kyle.

His house is exactly eight miles from the corner up ahead, so at this speed I’ll be there in just under twelve minutes and forty seconds.

I don’t even have to consciously think about it. Math comes naturally to me. Sometimes it’s helpful. Sometimes it’s just annoying.

We’re going to spend some time planning for our upcoming trip to Georgia next Saturday.

In my headlights, I glimpse movement ahead of me on the right side of the road and I brake.

Two skittish whitetail deer stare at the car, then bound in front me. I wait for them to clear, make sure there aren’t any more coming, then pull forward.

Two weeks ago when I received the invitation to the basketball camp in Atlanta, I was surprised. I’d had a good season, but it’s an elite camp and usually fills up early, so just getting an invite was a big deal. But since it was half- way across the country, getting there was going to be a challenge.

Because of their work schedules, neither of my parents could take me.

Apparently, there was some anonymous donor who gave money to cover the tuition and travel costs of students from out of state to help assure “diversity.”

At first we weren’t sure if the camp scholarship was legit, but everything cleared, my coach told me it wasn’t breaking any college recruitment rules, and I sent in my registration. But there was still the issue of getting down there.

The camp is at Northern Georgia Tech, a private university just outside of Atlanta.

Not a short trip from Beldon, Wisconsin.
Right around eighteen hours, actually.
Then Kyle’s girlfriend, Mia, mentioned that she had an aunt in Atlanta whose house wasn’t too far from the cam- pus and it got us thinking.

Dad told us his college roommate lived half an hour south of Champaign, Illinois, which is about halfway down there. After he brought that up, things came together quickly. Kyle, Mia, and Nicole, the girl I was dating, would go down with me.

All of us are rising seniors, getting ready for our last year of high school. Three of us are seventeen, but Mia is eighteen and that helped our case.

Her aunt could show everyone else around Atlanta while I was at the camp. Just the right amount of freedom for us and the right amount of supervision for our parents.

Ground rules: Check in every day. No drinking. No drugs. Nothing stupid.

The first three, no problem.
That last one might take a little more work.
Now, as I come around a curve that follows the shore-line of the lake, I catch sight of some movement again, about a hundred feet away.

I slow to a stop.
 But this time it’s not a deer. 
A little boy emerges from the woods. He’s maybe five or six years old and seems distracted as he wanders to the middle of the county highway.

He stops at the centerline.

I wait to see if his mom or someone will follow after him, but after a moment it’s clear that he’s alone.

I let the car idle, then, stepping out, I call to him, “Hey, are you okay?”

The summer day has cooled off. There’s a slight chill in the air.

Crickets chatter in the shadows.

After a quick glance toward the forest, the boy faces me. Pale complexion—even in the dim light I can make that much out. He reaches one hand toward me as if he some- how wants me to hold it from this distance, but he doesn’t leave the road.

Beyond him, around the bend, headlights cut through the darkening day and the rumble of a logging truck rolls toward us from the direction of the sawmill.

I start the boy’s way. “You need to get off the road.” He doesn’t move.
 As I get nearer, although I can’t place him, I have the sense that I’ve seen him before. “Hurry!”

Nothing. 
The truck doesn’t slow. 
Now I’m running. 
Its headlights come sharply into view, glaring toward me, backlighting the boy.
 As it barrels toward us, I yell again for him to move. His back is still turned to the logging truck as he stands completely still with that one arm held out to me.

“Hey!” I gesture wildly. “Get off the road!” He stays there, but lifts the other arm. 
Both hands outstretched now. 
He wants you to help him.

He needs you to save him.

I bolt as fast as I can toward the oncoming truck to sweep the boy into my arms and get him to safety.

My mind is calculating speed, distance. Math. 
Second nature.
 There isn’t time to get there and save him. Yes there is. There has to be.

Go!

I do.

The driver blares his horn and slams on the brakes, but he’s going too fast and there’s no way he’ll be able to stop in time. The sharp smell of burning rubber fills the air. As the cab begins to slow, the truck bed, which is loaded with logs, starts sliding sideways along the road.

When I’m just a few strides away from the boy, he finally looks over his shoulder at the truck.

I throw out an arm to pick him up, but my hand passes through empty air.

I spin to see how I could’ve missed him, and my back is to the truck as it clips my left side and launches me into the air toward the ditch.

Time somehow slows and slurs around me while I’m in midair. The night becomes liquid and I’m aware of the cool evening air brushing against my face, of the rich scent of pine trees surrounding the road, of the sound of the wailing brakes. The glaring sweep of the headlights. The rocky ground beneath me. Coming closer.

Time collapses. Rips forward.

Impact.

I careen down the embankment, rolling toward the lake until I smash into a tree and come to an abrupt stop about fifteen feet from the road.

Breathe, breathe, breathe.
You’re okay. You’re going to be okay.
 It should hurt. It will hurt, but right now adrenaline is blocking the pain—during all my years of playing football I’ve taken my share of hits. I know how this works.

But right now, I don’t care about any of that.
 All I can think of is the boy. 
You didn’t get to him. You missed him. He’s gone.
 My left arm hangs loose and useless from a dislocated shoulder. 
It’s happened to me before in football and every time it does, seeing it like that is pretty shocking, but the pain hasn’t quite registered yet.

I get to my feet and scramble up the bank toward the pavement.

The logging truck has skidded past me and finally come to a stop. One of the straps holding the logs in place must have snapped because the logs have spilled sideways off the bed and are strewn across the road, blocking it.

Terrified of what I might see, I scan the pavement, but can’t find the boy. No blood. No sign of a body. I gaze into the ditch I landed in. It’s shrouded in lengthening shadows, but from where I’m standing I can’t see the boy—or what might have been left of him if he was hit by that truck.

My ankle got wrenched when I landed and as I take a wobbly step forward to study the other side of the road, it buckles. I collapse and the driver of the logging truck comes hurrying toward me.

“You okay?” he shouts.

Using only one arm, it’s tough to push myself to my feet again, but I manage. “Did you hit him?”

“Who?”

“The boy. The little boy.”

“What boy?” He stares at me dumbfounded. A mixture of confusion and fear. “We’re the only ones out here. You came running at my truck. What happened to your arm?”

“No, no, no. The boy who was in the road.”

“Listen, I’m telling you, there wasn’t anyone else. Just you. What’d you think you were doing?” He offers a hand to steady me. “You could’ve been killed. Are you okay?”

I take a step, but lose my balance again and barely catch myself from falling by grabbing his arm.

“We need to get you to a hospital. Is your shoulder . . . ?”

“Dislocated. I’m okay.”

“You shouldn’t be walking around.”

“We have to find the boy.”

The pain is finally tightening around me. I gaze at that left arm. By the awkward angle, anyone could see that things aren’t right. The last time this happened the physical therapist told me it might sublux again.

So. 
His prediction came true.

Either I get it back in place myself or I wait for a doctor to do it—and it’s going to hurt just as much then. And in the meantime the tissue will continue to swell, so it’ll only get harder to pop back into place if I wait.

“Help me,” I say to the driver. “I need to get to your truck.”

He tells me once more that I shouldn’t be walking around, but when I start limping forward, he joins me, supporting my good arm. We arrive at the flatbed and I wedge my left wrist into a gap between the boards on the back.

Okay, this is really not going to feel good. The man gasps. “What are you doing?” “Traction. I have to get . . .”
 I clench my teeth and lean backward.

A sharp explosion of pain.
I almost collapse.
But, I didn’t go back far enough. The shoulder remains out of its socket.

Relax. You need to relax the muscles. It’s the only way it’ll go back in place.

“Give me a sec.” I take a deep breath, close my eyes, ready myself, and pull back again, harder. I twist slightly and finally, after what seems like the longest three seconds of my life, the shoulder grinds as it slides back into place. There’s a shot of relief but, at the same time, a wave of a heavier, duller kind of pain.

The driver’s face blanches. “Did you just . . . ?”

“Yeah.”

I use my right hand to support the weak arm and to keep it from swinging. Based on how things went the last time this happened, it’s going to be sore for a couple weeks at least.

“You might have internal injuries.” The man produces a cell phone and punches in 911. “You should lie down until help gets here.”
“We need to find the boy.”

Finally, he gives in. “Listen. I’ll look for him. But you, rest.”

When dispatch picks up, I say to the driver, “Tell them I’m Daniel Byers. They’ll know who I am.”

“They will?”

“Yeah. My dad’s the sheriff.”

 Steven
AUTHOR BIO:

Best known for his high-octane thrillers, Steven James is the award-winning author of eleven suspense novels. The Blur Trilogy is his first mystery series for teens. Steven has taught creative writing around the world and loves rock climbing, science fiction movies, and chicken fajitas. Find him at www.stevenjames.net.

Author links:

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