Giveaway – Trust No One by Glenn Dyer @XpressoTours @duffy_dyer

Trust No One
Glenn Dyer
(Conor Thorn Series, #4)
Publication date: December 11th 2023
Genres: Adult, Historical, Thriller

Loyalists meant to rid their country of a double-dealing collaborator. Instead, they created a threat that could destroy Allied unity.

Algiers. Winter 1942. Conor Thorn is devastated. He’s been fired from the OSS. His wife, Emily, has been fired from MI6. They allowed their morals to bend certain truths concerning the outcome of their last mission. Forever dedicated to defeating Axis powers, these skilled operatives jump at the chance to secretly help General Eisenhower deal with a political time bomb threatening Allied harmony and to redeem their honorable standing. To recover a rumored archive holding the truth about an assassination plot, they must travel deep into perilous Axis territory.

In the crosshairs of those determined to keep the information out of Allied hands, Conor and Emily fall victim to a violent assault. Though the resulting injuries leave him severely concussed and confused, Conor refuses to stand down while his beloved ventures deeper into danger.

Can Conor and Emily piece together a political puzzle in time to keep Allied unity from fracturing?

Trust No One is the high intensity, gritty fourth book in the Conor Thorn WWII espionage series inspired by true events. If you like heart-pounding action and white-knuckled tension, then you’ll love Glenn Dyer’s thrill ride through history.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble

EXCERPT:

Conor stirred. His head was pounding like the bass drum in the US Naval Academy marching band. When he opened his eyes, one person stared back at him. The facial features were out of focus, as if he were looking through cheesecloth. He blinked. The onlooker’s mouth began to flap. He sat up, but his head almost exploded. A hand pushed him back. The cheesecloth dissolved, and he could see someone smiling at him. Given the slow shake of his head, Captain Jack Waddon was not pleased to see him.

“You are one lucky bastard, Conor,” Waddon said.

Conor looked around and recognized that he was back aboard Waddon’s Consolidated PBY-5 Catalina, the ship that had taken him, Emily, and Father Sean Sullivan to Italy on their mission to snatch Ettore Majorana. “What did you say?” He could barely hear his own words. “What the hell happened?” He reached for his throbbing forehead and felt a knot the size of a billiard ball. The surface of his forehead radiated a low heat.

“You were introduced to a blackjack swung by one angry MP, that’s what happened,” Waddon said. “As far as being lucky, well, that’s because Commander Butcher saved your butt. Told the MP that he’d take it up with Colonel Eddy himself and see that you, being nonmilitary, would exit the theater as soon as he could arrange transport.”

Conor rolled over onto his right side. The two men were in the plane’s compartment forward of the waist gunner’s area and aft of the flight engineer’s compartment. He reached for the back of his head and discovered a lump where the blackjack had ambushed him. “Stevens?”

“Hauled out of there to the field hospital. Out cold. Like you were.”

Conor groaned.

“Here,” Waddon said as he handed him a damp handkerchief.

Conor spied white gauze peeking out from under Waddon’s left sleeve. Waddon had been wounded three weeks prior when his PBY approached the beach near Anzio to exfiltrate Conor, Emily, Sean Sullivan, and Ettore Majorana.

“How’s the arm?”

Waddon waved off the question. “On the mend. Already back in the left seat.”

Conor nodded, then held up the handkerchief. “What’s this for?”

“Your ear. There’s some dried blood. Stevens must have landed at least one blow.”

Conor took the handkerchief and dabbed at his right ear, loosening some dried flakes but also coming away with some fresh blood. The bass drummer in his head pounded away. His head had seen better days.

“So you dragged my ass here after Butcher saved it?”

“Yep. Me and DiLazzaro. We thought you had some lead bars in your pockets. You were a load getting you in here.” Seaman Eugene DiLazzaro was one of Waddon’s crew and had wound up part of Conor’s team that went ashore at Anzio. The New Jersey–born Italian American had handled himself like a pro, particularly when the shooting started.

Conor’s stomach roiled. Bile crept upward. A mixture of oil, perspiration, fuel, and grease hung in the air, fanning the flames of his nausea. “Jack, do you have a bucket? I don’t feel too good.”

“Conor, don’t you lose it in my ship,” Waddon said, scurrying forward in search of something to keep his Catalina puke-free. Conor wondered what did the most damage: the blow to the back of his head from the blackjack or the oak bar that gave no quarter when his head collided with it. Waddon returned with a collapsible canvas bucket and shoved it into Conor’s hands. “Here, and don’t miss.”

Conor leaned over the side of the bunk and let loose a stream of vomit that filled the bottom two inches of the bucket. When he finally felt he had no more to give, he handed it to Waddon and lay back. “So you just happened to be in the area when the action started?”

“Hey, I was thirsty.” Waddon went aft and tossed the bucket’s contents out through the open starboard-side blister. He returned and sat across from Conor on the port-side bunk. “When I approached the bar’s entrance, I saw Butcher coming from the other direction. We were about ten feet from the bar when we heard a massive crash. That must have been Stevens doing a back flop on the backbar. Two MPs were already there. We saw one lower the boom from just inside the doorway. We both cringed when your head hit the bar.”

“Well, thanks for the sympathetic cringes. Then what?”

“I already told you. Don’t you remember?”

Conor shook his head and felt the pain surge as if his brain were bouncing around inside his skull.

“Like I said, Butcher jumped in, threw Ike’s name around a bit, and eventually, the MPs backed down. He told them to get Stevens to the field hospital and told me to take care of you, but not to go far. That he needed to see you when you got put back together. He wanted me to get this to you.” Waddon handed over a note.

Conor unfolded the paper. It was short and sweet. He folded the note and put it in his pants pocket, then settled back to let the whitecaps in his stomach calm down.

“Well, you going to let me in on it or not?”

“He wants to know why Donovan shitcanned me.”


Author Bio:

GLENN DYER is a former commercial television executive whose career spanned over thirty-five years. That career took him to cities such as Salt Lake City, Dallas, Washington, DC, and Denver. He returned to Park City, Utah in retirement in 2013 to write full-time. He is an associate member of the International Thriller Writers, the Author’s Guild and The OSS Society. Glenn attended Villanova University and graduated from Boston University. He and his wife, Chris, have three children, all of whom live too far away. Visit his website at www.glenndyer.net and follow him on Twitter @duffy_dyer and Instagram @glennduffydyer.

Website / Facebook / Instagram / Twitter


GIVEAWAY!
a Rafflecopter giveaway


  • You can see my Giveaways HERE.
  • You can see my Reviews HERE.
  • If you like what you see, why don’t you follow me?
  • Look on the right sidebar and let’ talk.
  • Leave your link in the comments and I will drop by to see what’s shakin’.
  • I am an Amazon affiliate/product images are linked.
  • Thanks for visiting fundinmental!

Giveaway – The Golden Manuscripts by Evy Journey @ireadbooktours

 


Book Details:
Book Title:  The Golden Manuscripts: A Novel (Between Two Worlds, Book 6) by Evy Journey
Category:  Adult Fiction 18+, 340 pages
Genre: Women’s Literary Fiction
Publisher:  Evy Journey
Release date:  April 2, 2023
Content Rating:  PG: Some kissing, no bad language, no sex scenes



Book Description:

Clarissa, an Asian/Caucasian young woman has lived in seven different countries and has no lasting connection to any place. She thinks it’s time to settle somewhere she could eventually call home. But where?

She decides to live in the city of her birth. There, she joins a quest for the provenance of stolen illuminated manuscripts—a medieval art form that languished with the fifteenth-century invention of the printing press—hoping it would give her the sense of belonging she craves. But will it be enough?

For her, these ancient manuscripts elicit cherished memories of children’s picture books her mother read to her, nourishing a passion for art.

The trail of the manuscripts leads to an American soldier who served in World War II. Clarissa is anxious to know what motivated him to steal and keep the artwork for fifty years. But instead of easy answers, she finds bigger questions.

Immersed in art, but naïve about life, she’s disheartened and disillusioned by the machinations the quest reveals of an esoteric, sometimes unscrupulous art world. What compels individuals to steal artworks, and conquerors to plunder them from the vanquished? Why do collectors buy artworks for hundreds of millions of dollars? Who decides the value of an art piece and how?

The Golden Manuscripts: A Novel is inspired by the actual theft of medieval manuscript illuminations during the second world war.


Review & Spotlight – Tropical Scandal by David Myles Robinson @DMRobinsonWrite @pumpupyourbook

https://amzn.to/482xd4X

Title: Tropical Scandal

Author: David Myles Robinson

Publisher: Bluewater Press, LLC

Pages: 291

Genre: Legal Thriller/Suspense/Mystery

 MY REVIEW

I must confess, it was the tropical cover that made me pause and check out the book. Then, the blurb mentions that it is based ‘somewhat on bizarrely true events’, I had to read it.

I have not read any of the previous books in the series and I don’t feel like it impacted my enjoyment of Tropical Scandal, though I always recommend beginning at the beginning, if you can. It helps to keep from stumbling over references to earlier books.

The descriptive writing made it easy to visualize the intriguing characters. The storyline is in depth, convoluted, twisting and turning, keeping me reading, because there was no way this was going to be an easy mystery for me to solve. I don’t read a lot of legal thrillers, but David Myles Robinson led me through the investigation and court proceedings, step by step.

Greed runs rampant. Flawed characters abound. Some I cared for, others I think get their just desserts. All in all, I enjoyed my time in Hawaii and would love to visit again.

I voluntarily reviewed a free copy of Tropical Scandal by David Myles Robinson.

Animated Animals. Pictures, Images and Photos
3 Stars

BOOK BLURB

When Pancho McMartin, Honolulu’s top criminal defense attorney, takes on the case of Dayton Kalama, a young drug dealer accused of murdering his grandmother (tutu), Pancho is faced with a daunting amount of evidence pointing squarely at Dayton. But as Pancho, together with his private investigator, Drew Tulafono, gradually pull back the layers of deceit, they begin to uncover hints at what is beginning to look like the biggest scandal ever to hit Hawaii’s legal community. This book is pure fiction, but is inspired by true, scandalous events which shook Honolulu’s legal community to its core.

Amazon: https://amzn.to/482xd4X

Book Excerpt

I was surprised when my current lover, Padma Dasari, asked me to meet with Isaac Goldblum, a legendary Hawaii trial attorney who, now in his eighties, was an alcoholic still representing clients. I had made known my intolerance for those attorneys who fell prey to addiction

yet refused help—all while still accepting clients. They were walking malpractice cases who risked everything they’d worked for in their own lives—not to mention the lives of their

clients—by living and working as functional drunks or addicts.

Being a trial attorney was stressful. Being a criminal defense trial attorney was particularly stressful. Aside from the relatively rare innocent defendant, our customer base was composed of criminals who, generally speaking, were not the warmest and fuzziest people to deal with day in and day out.

Whether they were guilty or innocent, their lives were in our hands—a situation only the most jaded and burned-out counsel didn’t find stressful.

My surprise didn’t arise from the fact that Padma knew Goldblum. She was the former medical examiner for the city and county of Honolulu, and just as I had cross-examined her many times in her capacity as coroner, so had Goldblum. My surprise arose from the fact that Padma knew Goldblum had been one of my early heroes. He was most famous for having won an acquittal for two Hawaiian teenagers who had been charged with the murder of a prominent haole (Caucasian) businessman. The public outcry against the Hawaiian kids had been reminiscent of the uproar in the Deep South when young black men were charged with the rape of white women. It was scary. Goldblum was vilified for taking the case.

As he later said in an interview for the Honolulu Advertiser, he knew that anything short of proving who the real killer was would fall on deaf ears. His cross-examination of the

businessman’s administrative assistant, who’d been having an affair with the dead man’s wife and who ultimately confessed to the murder, was nothing short of brilliant.

I had shared my early hero worship of Goldblum with Padma, but I had also made it clear that I now harbored a healthy dose of contempt for the man, who seemed intent on destroying his own legacy. At the time, Padma had not tried to defend Goldblum.

We were enjoying a quiet Saturday afternoon at Padma’s Kahala Beach condo when she broached the subject of my meeting with Goldblum. “He lives here, in the next building,”

she said. “He’s invited us to stop by for a cocktail at about four.”

I stared out from her oceanfront lanai at the tranquil ocean.

The palm fronds on the coconut trees fronting the beach barely twitched. One lone puff of a cumulous cloud hovered in the bright blue sky.

“Why?” I asked. “Why would I want to go have a drink with a drunk who should have put himself on inactive status years ago?”

Padma stared back at me with her piercing dark eyes. I half expected her to admonish me for being too judgmental—a trait I seemed to have developed in recent years. “Isaac asked to

meet with you. We know each other from court, and he knows I live in this building, and he knows we’re in a relationship. I think he came to me rather than you because he knows—or at

least suspects—that you aren’t much of an admirer of his.”

Padma had been born in India and had done volunteer work as a doctor in Bangladesh, but she had lived and worked in the United States for most of her adult life. Nonetheless, she

still retained the remnants of an accent, which was melodic and soothing. No doubt she was a calming influence on many people grieving the loss of a loved one. She had been instrumental in

helping my mother in New Mexico get through the early stages of the loss of my father. Just the tone of her voice seemed to take the wind out of my judgmental sails.

“Okay, but do you know why he wants to meet?”

She gave a small shake of her head. “Something about a case. That’s all I know.” She paused for a beat. “Look, I know he’s a drunk and you hate the fact that he’s still going to court, but you have to admit: drunk or sober, the man knows the law and probably still has pretty good instincts. I doubt he would ask to meet with you if he didn’t think it was important.”

I resisted the temptation to make a snide remark and instead looked at my watch. It was three-thirty in the afternoon. “Why’d you wait until now to tell me about this?”

Padma’s beautiful brown face broke into a mischievous grin. “So you wouldn’t have time to obsess about it.”

I laughed. “Jesus, Padma. We’re not even married and you play me like a fiddle.”

“I love the fiddle,” was her only retort.

About the Author

David Myles Robinson has always had a passion for writing. During the late 1960’s and early 1970’s, while in college, Robinson worked as a free-lance writer for several magazines and was a staff writer for a weekly minority newspaper in Pasadena, California. Upon graduating from San Francisco State University, he attended the University of San Francisco School of Law. It was there that he met his wife, Marcia Waldorf. In 1975 the two moved to Honolulu, Hawaii and began practicing law. Robinson became a trial lawyer and Waldorf eventually became a Circuit Court judge.

Upon retiring in 2010, Robinson completed his first novel, Unplayable Lie. He has since published eight more novels.

  • You can see my Giveaways HERE.
  • You can see my Reviews HERE.
  • If you like what you see, why don’t you follow me?
  • Look on the right sidebar and let’ talk.
  • Leave your link in the comments and I will drop by to see what’s shakin’.
  • I am an Amazon affiliate/product images are linked.
  • Thanks for visiting fundinmental!

Giveaway – Mother Knows Worst by Sofia Bella Roman @ireadbooktours


 

Book Details:

Book Title:  Mother Knows Worst by Sofia Bella Roma
Category:  Adult Fiction (18+),  280 pages
Genre: Literary Fiction, Novel
Publisher:  Mascot Books
Release date:  December 2022
Content Rating:  PG -13 

Pinnacle Award Winner!
“Author Sofia Bella Roma tells an absorbing story about two people from very different backgrounds falling in love and struggling to navigate the circumstances and people around them. Infusing romance, humor, and plenty of drama, Roma weaves an engaging narrative that keeps hold of the reader until the last page. Mother Knows Worst is not just a dramatic comedy but also a novel that showcases the challenges people sometimes face in adapting to other cultures, especially in relationships involving in-laws. The characters have their own idiosyncrasies, which make them very intriguing to read. Rose and Anil’s dynamic feels genuine, as do their respective struggles and conflicts. Recommended to readers who savor drama novels revolving around relationships.” – Reviewed by Pikasho Deka for Readers’ Favorite

“A lively, thought-provoking journey into one young woman’s marriage, cross-cultural encounters, and life. Mother Knows Worst is recommended not just for novel readers seeking stories of women’s experiences, but for reading groups interested in the psychological entanglements between different cultures and generations.” – Reviewed by Midwest Book Reviews

Book Description:

After trying her hand at acting, Rose decides to change career paths and enter law school.

She enrolls in law school in a sleepy New England town, only to find that the practice of law is not all she will study. This quirky thirty-something Italian girl falls in love when she lays eyes on Anil, a handsome intellectual from India. The two discover a deep connection and quickly begin a romantic relationship. What could go wrong as their romance blossoms? Their future looks bright. They have each other. They have great friends. They also have Anil’s mother. Inspired by true events, Mother Knows Worst is a humorous and heartfelt novel. Rose is on a path to finding herself, love, and relationships, taking the reader on a delightful and often comedic journey as she explores two cultural worlds colliding.
BUY THE BOOK:
Mascot Books
Amazon B&N
add to goodreads

Meet the Author:

Sofia Bella Roma is a lawyer in North Carolina. She has been practicing law since 2009. She was first licensed to practice law in Massachusetts and then went on to become licensed attorney in North Carolina. Sofia has spent most of her career telling stories. She regularly performs to judges when litigating her cases. Mother Knows Worst is Sofia’s debut novel. This book tackles common problems in relationships and takes on mother-in-law drama with a quirky point of view. Sofia knows firsthand about difficult relationships since she has been practicing law as a divorce attorney. She currently lives with her son and their pet lizard. She has a love for the arts and enjoys making people laugh.

Enter the Giveaway:


MOTHER KNOWS WORST Book Tour Giveaway




  • You can see my Giveaways HERE.
  • You can see my Reviews HERE.
  • If you like what you see, why don’t you follow me?
  • Look on the right sidebar and let’ talk.
  • Leave your link in the comments and I will drop by to see what’s shakin’.
  • I am an Amazon affiliate/product images are linked.
  • Thanks for visiting fundinmental!

Giveaway – The Caging at Deadwater Manor by Sandie Will @SandieWillBooks @YABoundToursPR

 
The Caging of Deadwater Manor by Sandie Will has a fantastic cover that makes me want to visit the manor. How about you?
 

The Caging at Deadwater Manor
by Sandie Will
Genre: YA/NA Psychological Thriller/Suspense
Release Date: March 31st 2017

Summary:


Time is running out for Jeannie, a young girl taken against her will by staff at Deadwater Manor – a psychiatric hospital with an unscrupulous past. Inspired by true events, this is a captivating story where Jeannie shares her heart-wrenching experience while undergoing treatments that will make you cringe.

On a cold, January evening, fourteen-year-old Jeannie Kynde is told that her beloved mother drowned in the murky waters along Florida’s Gulf Coast. Her distraught father turns on Jeannie, no longer the caring father she once knew.
Four years later, Jeannie is finally old enough to escape her father’s clutches, but he has different plans. He imprisons her at Deadwater Manor, a psychiatric hospital with an unscrupulous past.
Will she be locked away forever? Or can she fight against the nightmare that has now become her world?  
 
 
Buy Links:
Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06XRJMJBB
Universal ebook link (international): books2read.com/u/me0vgZ

Note from the Author:
Hi everyone! I am a thriller/suspense Indie author. I write primarily in the YA/NA genre. My debut, The Caging at Deadwater Manor, was just released on March 31 and was written for mature young adults (16+) and older. This book has been professionally edited and the cover was done by a professional artist. I strive to provide high-quality books that stay with you – so I hope you’ll find it an enjoyable read. The story evolved from experiences my dad had during short periods of his career at psychiatric hospitals. He shared patient routines, treatments, hospital layouts and stories, but the book primarily evolved from a discovery he made in the atticsomething that unnerved me enough to bring this book to life. Though the story is fiction, I’ve intertwined much of the information shared by my dad and research I performed while writing this book.

Excerpt:
I smile as I think of her, until my concentration is interrupted by footsteps coming down the hallway. I quickly look over to see if it’s my aunt.
It isn’t.
Instead, a male attendant greets me. His name badge identifies him as Drake.
“You’re Jean Kynde?” he inquires.
I nod.      
“Follow me, then.”
I follow him down the hallway to the wooden door I saw earlier and enter. This room is much larger than the reception area with pink walls and white accents. To the left is a glass office; a semi-circle nurses’ station. A couple rows of tables with metal chairs are scattered about, and a steel water fountain is stationed at the other side of the room.
Drake pulls out a chair for me and assures me he’ll be right back. As I wait for my aunt, I try to imagine how it would feel to be locked up with a guard on every corner.
I wonder if my aunt feels like a prisoner. Why in the world did she agree to come here?
My attention is soon drawn to a commotion outside the same door I entered. I listen, but all I can hear is some mumbling, perhaps arguing.
Eventually, another man comes through the door. He appears to be older, with gray hair and eyebrows and sagging skin on his neck. As he approaches, I can see the script writing on his lab coat.
Doctor Garrett Wiggins; this is Dad’s friend. Okay, so I’m in the right spot.
“Jeannie, correct?”
“Uh, yes. I’m here to see my aunt. Have you talked to my dad?”
“Yes, he’s been telling me about some issues.”
“Yeah, well, I guess my aunt had a nervous breakdown.”
“Aunt?”
“Yes, Lesley Odell. You have her chart there, right?”
He looks at me for a few seconds and then looks away, unable to find words. He pauses. I’m not sure what is going on, but I don’t like the uneasiness I’m feeling right now. I’m getting that gut feeling that something is wrong.
Did she die?
He pulls his chair closer to me like a true friend would. In a caring voice, he says softly, “Your aunt is not here.”
I stare at him blankly for a second and then ask, “What? What do you mean? She’s gone already or—or worse?” The reality of the situation starts to take hold as racing thoughts of never seeing her again start scaring me.
He touches my arm for a second and says, “Jeannie, listen to me carefully.” I try to focus more on his mouth, since my difficulty in hearing is worsened by the tall ceiling in the room. “Your aunt was never here.”
The racing thoughts stop. I look at him dead seriously, trying to figure out what the hell he’s telling me.
Is she dead or not?
I look toward the table for a minute, not sure what he’s going to tell me next.
She’s dead? She’s alive? She’s somewhere else? She’s a fucking FBI agent? What’s going on?
“What do you mean? Where is she?” I finally manage.
“I don’t really know. There’s no record of her here. What I want to concentrate on is you, now. How do you feel about this?”
 I frown and mumble, “Confused.”
He nods and says sincerely, “It’s understandable especially with the recent loss of your mom.” At least, I think that’s what he said.
I watch him, trying to figure out why we’re having this conversation. I don’t know how my dad knows this doctor, but his fake sincerity is not calming me. I glance over to the wooden door, and there are now two guards standing in front of them, one of which I recognize as Drake. Another door on the opposite side of the room opens, and two more guards move in.
This definitely doesn’t feel right.
“Hey, they’re just here for your protection,” the doctor says. I lean back in my chair, as he moves forward and whispers, “No worries.” His breath puffs across my hair, leaving me with a gift of strong cigarette stench. I try to lean back more but feel pinned. This guy does not know his boundaries. He starts stroking my arm in what seems like an attempt to comfort me, but it only makes me panic more. I can feel my palms moistening with every word.
“Is it okay if we talk for a while? I’d like to get to know you a little more, Jeannie. I’ve always heard your dad’s side of things, but the opportunity to hear your side is what’s important now. Why don’t we have you go relax in another room, and then you can come into my office a little later?”
I try hard not to show the panic that’s now taking over, hiding what I can of my heaving chest. It feels difficult to breathe with the short, shallow breaths that are now uncontrollable.
I’m going to have a panic attack.
I’m so screwed.
I look over to the guards, begging them not to force me behind the walls that will separate me from the rest of the world. I frantically search for a way to get myself out of what I know is inevitable, but it’s useless with all the guards.
I’m going to become the prisoner. I’m going to become the next rumor throughout the school.
It’s all part of a calculated plot my dad would be proud of. This is his victory—a victory that includes my never leaving Deadwater or having a life, even if he won’t be a part of it. As long as he knows where I am, he’ll be happy. I close my eyes in disgust, concerned about what I’m about to endure. I hate the unknown, but this is way beyond what any eighteen-year-old should have to experience.
“Jeannie, you still with me?” the doctor asks.
I look up at the cohort who is now starting to tug at my forearm.
“I think we need to get you comfortable.”
I frown between the doctor and the guards. They both come forward to “help” me. Gasping for air, I throw my chair backwards to try the only path of escape I can think of, but they’re too fast and catch the chair before I hit the ground.
“No! I am not going anywhere with you! I’m not a minor and my dad can’t institutionalize me without my consent. Let me out of here!”
“Well, Miss Kynde, you just signed all the consents. There’s nothing illegal here.”
What starts as a rational protest spirals out of control quickly. Panic sets in. I’m crying, screaming, and clawing at them. I try to kick their groins, but they predict that move and easily pin my legs to the chair.
I start breathing heavier now. Panic takes over, and I’m quickly losing control.
“Get the syringe!” orders Doctor Wiggins, pointing to the table next to the water fountain.
Drake holds out one of my arms and lunges backward for the syringe with his other arm, knocking the table over.
Oh, God! Get me out of here!
Drake is grasping for the syringe on the floor, so I take the opportunity to bite his forearm, causing him to bleed and withdraw his clutch. This does nothing but make things worse for me, though. Drake leaps toward me, pinning the back of my head against his stomach muscles. My free arm flails back and forth, as I try to reach something to use to hit him.
It’s no use.
Frantically, the doctor kicks the syringe toward Drake, and I watch in horror when the needle roughly enters my vein.

 

About the Author
Sandie Will is a young adult novelist who lives in Tampa Bay, Florida and works as a manager and geologist by day. She has written two novels and is currently working on her third. Her first novel, The Caging at Deadwater Manor, is a young adult psychological thriller that will be released on March 31, 2017. Her second is a time travel and her third will be another psychological thriller. She has been married to her husband, Charlie, for 30 years and they have two sons. Their home has been blessed by many laughs, hugs and one-too-many beer pong parties with college friends.
Author Links:
        

GIVEAWAY:
a Rafflecopter giveaway

  • You can see my Giveaways HERE.
  • You can see my Reviews HERE.
  • If you like what you see, why don’t you follow me?
  • animated smilies photo: animated animated.gifLook on the right sidebar and let’ talk.
  • Leave your link in the comments and I will drop by to see what’s shakin’.
  • Thanks for visiting fundinmental!