Jack Canon's American Destiny

Broken Pieces

Thursday, January 23, 2014

City of the Fallen by Diana Bocco (4/5 stars) #Romance #Paranormal #ReviewShare

City of the Fallen (Dark Tides, #1)City of the Fallen by Diana Bocco
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Which did you find more appealing, the introduction or the conclusion? I am not going anywhere near the ending. The first group of book club members who finished this book have covered that and I share their opinion. The introduction pulled me into the story which was good. But if I had to pick the most appealing part of the novel it would be about 30% into the novel. The heroine wakes up alone after a night of passionate lovemaking. This was warning bells to me. Waking up alone is never a good way to end up or is it?

Why would you recommend or not recommend this book? Everything about this book worked for me. Plot, settings, character development and the transition from each scene was exceptionally smooth. I have already recommended this well-written book and author; and will continue to do so but I am compelled to mention that it ends in a cliffhanger so readers will have to be prepared for that.

What did the pacing of the story feel like? The conflict is set up from the beginning. Isabelle is driven from start to finish with only one goal in mind. She is forced to make tough decisions and this is consistently developed throughout the novel. The pacing moved in rhythm with each scene which is not something newer authors are used to doing so this was also a plus point.

Disclosure - As a Quality Reads Book Club member, I received a free copy of this book from the author via Orangeberry Book Tours in exchange for my honest review.

View all my reviews

Wednesday, January 22, 2014

Order of the Seers by Cerece Rennie Murphy @CereceRMurphy

Chapter 1: The End

Sunday, June 22, 2008

Liam was losing his patience. “Aw, come on! Are you serious? You can’t want to ride this thing again!”

Instead of answering her older brother, Lilli remained in her seat as the Ferris wheel conductor looked on expectantly, hand outstretched and waiting for another two tokens.

The way Lilli’s skinny arms hugged her book bag while she stared blankly at the pressed metal floor of their “Fairy Land Caboose” made it hard for Liam to stay angry. The sight of her looking so dejected softened him enough to give the conductor his fifth set of tokens in less than 45 minutes. Liam settled back into his seat just as the lap bar clamped down uncomfortably against his thighs.

“Lilli, say something. Why’d you drag me out here if you were just gonna sulk? I hate the carnival, you know that.”

“I know something… okay? Just… trust me. We have to stay here.” Her voice was so low he could barely hear her over the wind-up music that was blaring from the overhead speakers.

“Did Mom say something to you?”

Lilli responded to his question with silence and a barely discernable shake of her head back and forth. He tried again.

“Lilli! Did Mom…?”

“Yes,” she snapped.

They both fell silent again as Liam took in the latest weird thing of the day. Lilith Knight, or Lilli as she preferred to be called, had always been strange. Even when she was five, she could beat Liam at chess lazily, without even thinking about it. She would find things and give them to you before you asked for them. Before you, or even she, knew why. Up until recently, he thought she was just a freak. No biggie. All little sisters are like that, he told himself.

It was only in the past few months that his perception of her began to shift, after her prediction that he would catch his new girlfriend, Krista, kissing his teammate Lance in the locker room after their championship game. At the time, he’d brushed off her premonition as meddling. Krista wasn’t even his girlfriend and his team was 1-1 with the whole basketball season ahead of them.

He’d forgotten her warning completely until two months later when he ran back into the locker room after winning the championship to get the jacket he’d left behind and immediately smelled Krista’s perfume. When he found them, two thoughts overshadowed the scene unfolding in front of him. The first was that what they were doing wasn’t really “kissing,” though he could see how a sheltered thirteen-year-old would describe it that way. His second thought was that Lilli was right; she was exactly right. He was so stunned by Lilli’s accuracy that he didn’t even bother to disturb them, leaving his new ex-girlfriend and her new boyfriend to their business. From that moment, Liam understood that Lilli wasn’t just a freak, or more accurately, that she wasn’t a freak at all. She was special…gifted.

The sound of Lilli’s sniffling followed by the trembling of her body as she began to cry uncontrollably broke the long silence that had fallen between them. What the…, Liam half-mumbled as his mind swung from irritation to absolute bewilderment. Slowly and deliberately, Liam moved his palms down the front of his face as he fought the urge to shake the truth right out of her and end whatever this was. But he couldn’t. She’s so brittle already, he thought, without any idea as to why. So instead, he reached out to envelop his sister in his arms, trying to soothe her and comfort her from some unknown force.

“Lilli, it’s all right. I’m sorry, okay? Don’t cry. Just… tell me what’s going on. Why are we here?”

He tried to wait patiently, to rein in the confusion and frustration that had been piercing through the calm day he had planned for himself when he woke up that morning, as cool and carefree as any sixteen-year-old boy. It was Lilli who had dragged him out of the house before he could even wolf down his second bowl of Honeycombs. “Mom said you have to take me to the carnival. NOW!” She had demanded.

He had started to head upstairs to launch his appeal when his eye caught his mother’s note on the refrigerator door. “Take Lilli to the fair. NOW.—Love, Mom,” it read. He knew that meant his mother had left the house early; there was no appeal to be made. Begrudgingly, he slipped on his sneakers and grabbed the car keys, all the while wondering if Lilli was still too young to be left at the fair by herself.

His earlier thoughts of abandonment brought him back to his sister’s form beside him. Not knowing what else to do, Liam simply held her tight as her convulsing turned to trembling, and finally, back to stillness. At the top of the Ferris wheel, she finally spoke.

“It’s over now, we can go home,” she whispered. But as impatient for answers and a reprieve from big brother duties as he was, Liam knew that it was not over. The emotionless tone in her voice scared him. It made him want to stay on the Ferris wheel he’d been begging to get off of a few short minutes ago. As the music died down and their feet got closer to the ground, he suddenly felt conflicting urges to stay where he was and to rush home to his mother. As the ride came to a stop, he suddenly realized with profound certainty that this was much more than one of Lilli’s “episodes.” Something was very, very wrong.

When Liam pulled his father’s green 2002 Saab in front of their small brick house, everything seemed as it always did—quiet and predictable in their modest yet comfortable home. They had lived in a much bigger house before his father died, but Liam never minded sharing a bathroom with his mother and sister. All the toys and trinkets that had mattered to him when he was a child were rendered insignificant the moment his mother told him that his father would never come home again. As he got out of the car and began to take the front steps two at a time, he noticed that Lilli had stopped at the tree stump his mother had cut down the week before. Sitting down, her eyes remained on the ground. Just as his mouth formed the shape of a question, she spoke.

“No, you go. I can’t see it again.”

Liam didn’t stop to ask what she meant. Whatever she meant, he was sure it was worse than he thought. He tried to hold back the swell of fear in his chest as he ran to the front door, but his emotions spun out of control the moment he tested the front door knob and found it opened—easily. They never left the front door unlocked.

When he stepped into the house, he actually felt the life, the person he had been, rush past him and out the door as his eyes took in the overturned, splintered remains of their living room. It was a feeling he’d felt only once before, when his father died. But what made it worse, what made it permanent, was lying in the middle of the floor, with its contents thrown everywhere. It was his mother’s purse, which had not been there when he left that morning.

“Mom!” he shouted as he raced up the stairs to her room. “Mom. Please!” he shouted again, but no one answered. In every room he looked, it was the same - scattered clothes, broken mirrors, and silence—a deafening silence that rang louder than the sound of his own shallow breathing.

If he took the stairs at lightning speed to make it to the second floor, an age could have passed during his descent. The entire house consisted of three bedrooms, one and a half bathrooms, a kitchen, a living room, and a small open dining area that you could see clearly from the front door. As he walked down the steps, he knew there was only one room left to check. His mind was frozen on what to hope for as his hand reached the end of the banister. If she wasn’t in the kitchen, she might have been taken, but at least there was a chance she was still alive. If she was in the kitchen, it was unthinkable.

Lilli’s words came to him just as he rounded the doorway to the kitchen.

“No, you go. I can’t see it again.”

He found his mother sitting with her feet planted on the floor, shoulder width apart, bright eyes open and cast to the ceiling, with a hole blown through the middle of her chest.

Liam braced himself against the door frame as he began to sob, the sounds seemingly emanating from a place far away from where he stood. He could not look away from the horrific image before him, the last image of his mother. He stood there with wide-eyed and tear-stained pain as the last measure of his youth drained from him like blood rushing from an open vein. When it was done, his body slid to the ground.

We are alone, he thought. There’s no one left.

Ever since his father had died, Liam lived in fear that one day he would lose her. Unable to tear his eyes away from her body, he could hear her vehemently denying that there would ever be a time when she wasn’t with them. “Never,” she would say.

Never, he thought, has finally come.

Though Liam had been staring at her body since he entered the kitchen, he had not seen the gun in her hand until he noticed a fly land on it. Years of training to keep the gun out of Lilli’s sight made him jump to his feet until he remembered that Lilli was still outside. He knew the gun well; it was his mother’s. She had taught him how to use it and to keep it out of Lilli’s reach when she was small.

At first his mind could not decipher the meaning of the scene before him. Was he meant to believe that she did this to herself? Why would the people who broke into their house ransack the place and then try to make it look like a suicide? But he couldn’t think straight, couldn’t figure out the logic or the answer to any of the crazy questions running through his mind. Why would she kill herself? He was sure the answers were obvious; he just wasn’t making sense. None of this was making any sense.

His confusion caused him to draw closer to her body. Kneeling down beside his mother, Liam took the lifeless hand that dangled at her side, the one that was not holding the gun. Though his eyes were still filled with tears, they were no longer breaking through the barriers of his lower lids. This momentary fortitude allowed him to have the courage to look directly into her face and see her open smile. The sight of it knocked him down and back into the base cabinets. She was smiling. She was smiling, he thought. She had known what was coming, and she was smiling.

Suddenly, he remembered his mother’s constant warning every time they went to the shooting range. “Don’t pick up a gun unless you mean to use it. There can be no hesitation. Do you understand me?” she would ask him sternly. Liam knew Jill Knight was skilled at using a firearm. If she had a chance to draw her gun, no one could take it from her. The implications made him immediately sick and angry before their full meaning could even register.

As if retching the contents of his stomach into the kitchen sink made room for clarity, he suddenly understood the reason behind her smile. She had killed herself. She had done this to herself, on purpose. He threw up again in a wave of protest at the notion that she would abandon them, even as the resentment of her betrayal took root. When he was done, he didn’t want to turn around, didn’t want to face her.

How could she do this? She wouldn’t do this. She promised.

Holding himself up at the sink, his thoughts turned to Lilli. Is this what she saw?, he wondered, fighting a new wave of nausea. No wonder she cried like that. No wonder… Rather than try to sort out the conflict of thoughts and emotions inside him, he decided to check on Lilli and make sure that she remained outside while he tried to figure out what to do next.

As he peered over his shoulder toward the doorway, his eyes caught the folded cuff of his mother’s sweatshirt, which was turquoise save for the blood, and a little corner of white paper that was peeking out. He knew his mother hid things in the cuff of her sleeve all the time; it was one of the many old lady habits Liam enjoyed teasing her about. He stared at the white edge of paper for a long time, warring with his own feelings of anger and grief before simple curiosity forced him to bend down and retrieve it. As his fingers curved around the edge of her sleeve, he could feel something flat and hard inside. When he rolled down her sleeve to get it, the key to his gym locker at school slipped out before he could fully unroll the note. When he did, it unleashed a new avalanche of questions upon heartbreak over questions.

In his mother’s tiny cursive handwriting, the note read, ‘Go now. Protect her.’ Liam felt a new level of understanding peel back in his mind as he read her note again. He began to see the very real possibility that perhaps his mother had not wanted to do this to herself. Perhaps she was forced by the same people who came into their home. The same people who she wanted him to protect Lilli from now. Liam grabbed the key off the floor before rising to meet his mother’s eyes one last time. They looked so different from how they had even two minutes ago and held so much he couldn’t understand, couldn’t handle right now. He closed his eyes and softly kissed her on her forehead before running out of his home for what he knew would be the last time.

Liam closed the front door behind him and turned to find Lilli sitting exactly where he left her twenty minutes before. He had only two objectives at that point - making sure that she was safe, and getting the hell out of there. As Liam scanned the neighborhood for anything suspicious, he took in the studied quiet of his block. There was no one on the street at 11:23 am on a beautiful Sunday morning. Where is everyone, he wondered, suddenly wary of the neighbors with whom he had grown up. How had no one heard the gunshot? Why didn’t anyone call the police?

The tremor in his neighbors’ curtains gave credence to the sensation that they were being watched, but no one would step outside to help them. This realization came over him with a bitterness that cast itself over all the sorrow he held inside. They had all been witnesses, he guessed, but they would no longer be friends.

Watching Liam as he crossed the small front lawn to reach her, Lilli was struck by how much older her brother looked compared to just a few hours ago. Though his straight black hair hung as sloppy and heavy as it always did over his blue-green eyes, there was none of the playful nonchalance that usually characterized her brother’s disposition. His hair was slick, spiked, and jet black with sweat, and it framed the angles of his face in a way that made her easy-going brother look cold and menacing. But it wasn’t a surprise, Lilli could see everything Liam felt on his face—anger, sorrow, betrayal, and a ferocity emerging that she did not understand. Seeing her brother so unlike himself made Lilli’s face crumple in agony as she trembled under the weight of her own choices.

“I’m sorry, Liam,” she begged in between sobs. “I know you’re mad at me for not telling you. Mom told me that if I did, they would kill you. She said I had to be strong enough… strong enough to save you.”

“Shhh, Lilli. It’s all right. We’ll talk about this later. Don’t cry. Shhh.”

Lilli knew Liam meant his response to be soothing, but his words came out cold, devoid of any life or feeling behind them. When she looked up to search his face and understand the hollowness in his voice, she found him scanning the street with the same look of fierceness. Something in the clenched set of his jaw made her finally understand. He was determined, to keep her alive, to protect the only family he had left.

“We need to go,” he said, as he led her to the car.

“Where?”

“I don’t know, Lilli. I don’t know.”

Order of the Seers

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre – Science Fiction

Rating – NC-17

More details about the author

Connect with Cerece Rennie Murphy on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://www.crmurphybooks.com

Getting to Know #Author Caroline Kennedy @StephenWardBook #Politics #Scandal

Image of Caroline Kennedy

DO YOU KNOW YOUR NEIGHBOURS?
If I stayed in one place long enough to meet them I am sure I would get to know my neighbours. The trouble is, with my wandering spirit I am travelling too much and too often to get to meet the people who live nearest me. I always intend to knock on their doors when I return from my travels but then put off doing it with the excuse that I will probably be leaving again in a few weeks.

WHAT ARE YOU MOST PROUD OF ACCOMPLISHING SO FAR IN YOUR LIFE?
The obvious answer is that I am most proud of my three children. But as far as professional achievements are concerned, I am proud that my first book, “An Affair of State” became the number one best-seller. I am proud of having worked in Bosnia and Croatia during the war. And I am most proud of something that happened while I was working there. In one of the camps outside Zagreb I found a young Bosnian refugee girl, Merima, who had lost her family after intense bombing of her village and was now completely alone. It became my mission to find her parents.

Somehow, after a couple of months intense investigation in Croatia, Bosnia and then the UK, I managed to locate them and her sister in Hertfordshire.  Her father had been medi-vaced to hospital having suffered severe injuries in the bombing incident close to their house in Banja Luka. I visited them at the hospital north of London, showed them a photo of Merima I had taken in the camp and promised them I would bring her to England when I returned from my next visit to Croatia. I knew I shouldn’t have made such a rash promise and regretted it immediately. I knew it was an almost impossible task. Six weeks later I went back to the refugee camp in Croatia and, to my horror, found it had been bulldozed and the refugees moved on to other camps. As I sat down and sobbed through frustration and despair, Merima suddenly appeared out of the rubble.

She told me through my interpreter that she had hidden when the Croatian police loaded everyone onto the trucks. We hugged ferociously. I handed her a letter from her parents and a postcard of a London bus from her little sister. I then hid Merima under sleeping bags in the back of my truck and transported her across seven borders and into the UK to reunite her with her family. It was a perilous and terrifying journey. Merima didn’t speak a word of English and was very frightened. I knew we could have been turned around at any of the borders had she been discovered. And, in the UK, I could have faced a lengthy prison term for “kidnapping and smuggling” a minor into the country. But we were extremely fortunate. And, after a harrowing trip of several days I managed to reunite Merima with her family. That was probably the proudest moment of my life.

WHAT IS THE LEAST FAVOURITE QUALITY ABOUT YOURSELF?
My least favourite quality about myself is that I am probably too self-critical. At least that is what my children tell me so I guess it must be true.

WHAT SOCIAL ISSUES INTEREST YOU THE MOST?
I am interested in several current issues – Immigration Reform, Marriage Equality and Gun Control. I worked for the Obama reelection campaign because I firmly believe his views on all three of these very important issues are the right views. Congress and the American people should embrace them.

WHO DO YOU ADMIRE?
I admire Michelle Obama because she has somehow managed to combine being a good, caring mother with the work of being First Lady. She also put her career on hold in order to support her husband which, to some, may not be considered a strength but I believe it must have taken a great deal of thought and self-sacrifice to come to that decision. I think she has been a positive force, both inside the White House and in her work as First Lady.


How The English Establishment Framed

“How the English Establishment Framed Stephen Ward” is a major expose of a government cover-up that has lasted half a century. It is a powerful story of sexual compulsion, political malice and ultimate betrayal. A number-one bestseller when it came out in 1987 under its original title, “An Affair of State”, the book reveals never-before-heard testimony that has been uncovered by the authors in the years since the scandal broke. 

Using startling new evidence, including Ward’s own unpublished memoirs and hundreds of interviews with many who, conscience-stricken, have now spoken out for the first time, this important account rips through a half-century cover-up in order to show exactly why the government, the police forces, the Judiciary and the security forces decided to frame Stephen Ward. 

Stephen Ward is now the subject of an upcoming Andrew Lloyd-Weber musical and this book offers a wider perspective on its complex, central character as well as a broader insight into one of the greatest scandals of the past 100 years. As the authors’ research reveals, Ward’s “trial of the century” was caused by an unprecedented corruption of justice and political malice which resulted in an innocent man becoming a scapegoat for those who could not bear to lose power. 

This is an epic tale of sex, lies, and governmental abuse whose aftermath almost brought down the government and shook the American, British, and Soviet espionage worlds to their core. With its surprising revelations and meticulous research, Ward’s complete story can finally be told.

Buy Now @ Amazon
Genre – Politics, Espionage, Scandal
Rating – PG-16
More details about the author
Connect with Caroline Kennedy on Facebook & Twitter










Tuesday, January 21, 2014

#AmReading with Chris Myers - 10 Good #Books I've Read @CMyersFiction #YA

Ten good books I’ve read in the past couple of years:

Nonfiction:
Unbroken by Laura Hillenbrand
A story about aWWII POW survivor. Amazing story about survival, resilience, and redemption.

The Devil in the White City by Erik Larson
A story about two men, one an architect and the other a serial murderer, at the Chicago World’s Fair in 1893.

Fiction:
Young Adult:
Flat-out Love by Jessica Park
A romance tied to a dysfunctional family. Unique premise and wonderfully told.

The Trylle Trilogy by Amanda Hocking (actually three books)
A fantasy about a girl born into a human family, though she has royal troll blood. This is really and fast-paced.

Kissing Shakespeare by Pamela Mingle
A delightful read about her contemporary girl traveling back to stop Shakespeare from making a huge mistake.

The Fault in our Stars by John Greene
Awesome novel about a girl with cancer who discovers life.

Adult fiction:
The Help by Kathryn Stockett
Set in the 1960s in Mississippi, a young college grad seeks to write a life-changing book about the black maids who care for white families. Minny is the best!

Easy by Tammara Webber
When a girl is almost raped, she is rescued by a boy who may help her recover from her ex-boyfriend dumping her.

Lone Wolf by Jodi Picoult
Beautifully researched book about two children disagreeing over a man in a coma who lived among wolves.

If I Were You by Lisa Renee Jones
I have to read the rest of these. A girl inherits journals from a missing woman she left in a storage unit. Very spicey.

Date with the Dead
Buy Now @ Amazon
Genre - YA Paranormal Mystery, Romance
Rating – PG-13
More details about the author
Connect with Chris Myers on Facebook & Twitter

Author Interview – Vadim Babenko

When did you first know you could be a writer? I’ve known it since childhood.

What genre are you most comfortable writing? The safest answer is “literary fiction” – although I don’t believe in dividing books by genre.

What inspired you to write your first book? My first novel was inspired by sudden and complete FREEDOM. I completed a huge, seven-year project, divorced, moved to another continent, felt that my life started anew, and was free of all responsibilities and worries.

Who or what influenced your writing once you began? It was influenced by some of my favorite writers – Kafka, Marquez, Tolstoy, Bulgakov, etc.

Who or what influenced your writing over the years? My own sense of “harmony of the words” – which, frankly, was quite poor in the beginning. My early writing was full of weak phrases and clichés. Then, gradually, my “inner literary ear” became increasingly well-trained.

A Simple Soul

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre – Literary Fiction

Rating – PG13

More details about the author and the book

Website http://www.vadimbabenko.com/

Author Interview – David Litwack @DavidLitwack

Image of David Litwack

How often do you write? And when do you write?

I try to write two sessions a day, two hours each—that’s about as long as I can concentrate without my writing degrading. Morning is best . . . or after a nap.

Do you have an organized process or tips for writing well? Do you have a writing schedule?

I usually conceive of a new book as a series of scenes, daydreaming about them while I finish work on the prior novel. I maintain a file for the new novel and do a rough draft of these scenes—a  very rough draft, what some people call “riff writing” like improvisation in jazz. The file can get pretty chaotic. Every now and then I make a feeble attempt to organize it (when I’m finishing up a novel, I try to avoid distractions and stay focused on getting it out to the publisher). By the time I’m ready to start the new novel, I usually have about 20,000 words of loosely connected prose—20-25% of the eventual word count but probably 80% of the novel’s essence. I take a couple of months to read, edit and organize that file into a dense plot outline. Then I start a new file from scratch, cutting and pasting prose as appropriate.

It’s pretty messy in the early going, but I feel I need that amount of writing to get to know the characters and live in the story.

As far as a schedule, I like to set deadlines to complete a draft. I only make them about half the time, but they still help motivate me.

Sometimes it’s so hard to keep at it – What keeps you going?

Motivating myself to write is easy when the ideas are flowing. Editing takes more persistence, an intense stubbornness to get the words right.

What do you hope people will take away from your writing? How will your words make them feel?

We may or may not write stories about everyday people, but all successful novels write about a time in the protagonist’s life that is most intense—something in the real world we  experience only a few instants in a lifetime. I call these moments the “Rocky moments”, where at the end of the second movie after Rocky finally defeats Apollo Creed, he shouts out: “Next to the birth of my son, this is the greatest moment of my life.” People identify with a character because they want to go along for that ride. By reading a good book, we can experience that intensity far more often—the sense of living life to its fullest—than we ever could in the real world.

Are you a city slicker or a country lover?

I was born and raised in the city but have always loved hiking in the outdoors. So I’d have to say both.

AlongtheWatchtower

WINNER: Readers’ Favorite Book 2013 Bronze Award Winner, Drama Category -Fiction

A Tragic Warrior Lost in Two Worlds…

The war in Iraq ended for Lieutenant Freddie Williams when an IED explosion left his mind and body shattered. Once he was a skilled gamer and expert in virtual warfare. Now he’s a broken warrior, emerging from a medically induced coma to discover he’s inhabiting two separate realities. The first is his waking world of pain, family trials, and remorse–and slow rehabilitation through the tender care of Becky, his physical therapist. The second is a dark fantasy realm of quests, demons, and magic that Freddie enters when he sleeps.

In his dreams he is Frederick, Prince of Stormwind, who must make sense of his horrific visions in order to save his embattled kingdom from the monstrous Horde. His only solace awaits him in the royal gardens, where the gentle words of the beautiful gardener, Rebecca, calm the storms in his soul. While in the conscious world, the severely wounded vet faces a strangely similar and equally perilous mission–a journey along a dark road haunted by demons of guilt and memory–and letting patient, loving Becky into his damaged and shuttered heart may be his only way back from Hell.

Buy Now @ Amazon

Genre – Contemporary Fiction, Fantasy

Rating – PG

More details about the author and the book

Connect with David Litwack on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://www.davidlitwack.com

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Sunday, January 19, 2014

Tales of Mi7: The Kramski Case by J.J. Ward @MI7Ward

Chapter 1: Them Ol’ Paparazzi Blues

Kendal, Cumbria.

Someone called Jilly’s name, then the name of her band, Four Girls on Fire. At first, she thought she was dreaming – they’d just won the nation’s biggest talent show all over again, and from now on, life was going to be really amazing! - then her stomach turned over.

She disengaged herself from Rob, got out of bed and went to the window. Bloody hell, yes, down in the narrow cobbled street that fronted the guest-house. Paparazzi, sixteen or seventeen of them, all men, full of last night’s chip fat and strip-club testosterone, leering up at the net curtain like they could see through it. She swallowed.

The other girls had warned her about dating a member of a boy band, but only tongue in cheek. Twice the publicity, babes, sure you can handle that? She couldn’t help herself, though. Two years ago he’d been her hero and she’d been a nobody. Now they were equals.

“They’ve found us,” she told him.

Rob stretched and yawned. He discarded the bedclothes, picked up his boxer shorts and put his foot in one leg. “The press?”

“You don’t seem very bothered.”

“You were bloody brilliant last night, Jilly.”

“How did they know we were here?”

“I mean it. Outstanding.”

She realised she didn’t even like him much. “Did you tell them?”

“Me?”

“Wake up, Rob! It’s the press! I said the press have found us!”

He pulled on his boxers and put his arms round her. She disengaged herself, plonked herself at the dressing table and brushed her long brown hair, pulling halfway down as if it was full of knots. She was trying to stop herself shaking.

“Anyone could have told them,” he said. “It definitely wasn’t me, babe.”

“Put your clothes on. We’re leaving.”

“Why? They can’t get in here.”

She fished her bra from the pile of clothes on the floor and put it on. “We’re in the bloody Lake District, Rob. We’re supposed to be miles from anywhere. How did they find us so quickly?”

She looked round the room: the plaid curtains, the beds with valances, the 1920s lampshades, all the varnished wooden surfaces, so unlike the places she always stayed when she was touring with the girls. She’d fallen in love with it at first sight. She’d been drunk, true, but she’d never wanted to leave.

Rob pulled his socks and T-shirt on then looked at her. “You’re not frightened, are you?”

“They’ve probably got the place surrounded. And yes. Yes, I am frightened.”

“We’ll just call a taxi. We can be downstairs and in the car before anyone knows it.”

“I’m not bothered about us, Rob. I’m bothered about them.” Tights, tights, where were her bloody tights?

“‘Them’?”

“Yeah, ‘them’. The photographers, journalists, whatever they call themselves. Them!”

He laughed. “First time anyone’s cared what happens to paparazzi. Anyway, what could happen to them?”

“Haven’t you been watching the news recently? Are you really that self-obsessed?”

“Hey, now - ”

“Four photographers shot dead in four weeks. Following Bobby Keynes, Zane Cruse, Mikey from Bad Lads Zero, Stallone Laine - ”

“No such thing as bad publicity, from what I hear. Not that you need it, girl, but it won’t hurt. Besides, they’re all douche bags, right?”

She pulled her dress on and smoothed the waist. She’d had enough now. She wanted out. Of everything. “I misjudged you, Rob. They’re still human beings.”

“No, they ain’t. Anyway, what are the chances?”

“I don’t want to think about it.”

He picked up the telephone. “Is that reception? Hi, yeah … Room …”

“Fourteen,” Jilly said.

“Fourteen. Could you get a taxi pronto for me and the shorty? And fetch us the bill for the room? … Yeah, we’re leaving … Yeah, all good things have to come to an end sooner or later … Yeah, we’re disappointed too.” He put his hand over the receiver. “She knows us,” he told Jilly. “It’ll be her that told the reporters.”

“Bitch.”

He put the phone down. “About fifteen minutes. Get your face on, gorgeous.”

“I’m not waiting for her taxi to come, Rob. Not if she’s with them. I’ll get my own. There’s a rank down the road. Come on.”

“What about your make-up?”

She rammed a pair of sunglasses on and picked up her travel bag. He followed her downstairs. They didn’t stop at reception. Rob reached into his wallet, pulled out four fifties and thrust them at Mrs whatever-she-was-called, the proprietress. “Keep the change.”

Suddenly, they were out on the street. Paparazzi to their right, shouting Jilly. Jilly take off your shades, Jilly flick your hair, Jilly wave, Jilly smile, Jilly stop, who’s that with Jilly, that’s Rob from Simply Boyz, Rob give us a smile, Rob –

She took off her glasses, grabbed Rob’s hand and turned left and accelerated. She almost changed direction. There was a loud crack and she jumped like she’d been hit.

Behind them, the paparazzi roared. One of them – a photographer, about twenty-five - lay prostrate and bloody. Four others photographed him, ten or twelve were in full flight, one was trying to get a signal on his mobile. No one was interested in Jilly and Rob any more.

Rob looked at them then at her. “Oh, my God. Oh, my God.”

Jilly started screaming.

Tales of MI7

Buy Now @ Amazon & Smashwords

Genre – Espionage Thriller

Rating – PG

More details about the author and the book

Connect with J.J. Ward on Twitter