Today, I'm over at Emily R. King's blog HERE and JL Bowen is my guest. She's the perfect guest for the letter H with her upcoming release, Healer. I also have a new review for Whisper of Memory from Seeing Night Reviews. Click here to visit.
I'm happy to introduce my guest, JL Bowen!
JL Bowen: I would like to thank Brinda for inviting me to blog on her website. Healer, is my first book, in the Dare to Heal Series. Readers are always asking where authors get their ideas for me I had a dream and came up with the idea. My hero, Armond Costa, is going through the angst of adolescence, but learns quickly there is to more to growing up then ever dreamed. He does not know who to trust except for his friends who he considers family. Armond must learn to believe in himself and his abilities in order to save those who he loves. I hope you like the book. Healer should be released from Featherweight Press in the next couple of weeks.
Below is an excerpt from my book:
I grabbed the wobbly banister and climbed the stairs two at a time to the attic.
A small stampede barged after me. “Going somewhere, boy?” Uncle Peter’s heavy footsteps trailed me. “You’ll never get the chance to heal.” His heavy panting echoed in the cramped stairwell. “Not…after…I…get…through…with…you.”
“Not in three days, you won’t.” Aunt Janet gritted her teeth. “I promise you that.”
Great, more pain. They could at least tell me what I did.
My hand shook as I whipped open my door. I charged towards the window. Freedom was only six feet away. Out the corner of my eye, an elephant size blur barreled right for me. I shrank, but Uncle Peter grabbed my arm and threw me.
As the room swirled, I crashed into the wall, knocking the wind out of me. Sweet Aunt Janet stormed over to me and backed me against the wall. “This. Is. Your. Fault.” With each word, she slapped me across the face and slammed my head like a Ping-Pong ball into the hard wood paneling. She wheezed and stopped. “Since it’s your damn fourteenth birthday tomorrow, they’re hunting you, putting us all in danger.”
God, her breathe stank of peppermint gum. Her hands reeked of her gawd awful rose perfume. A metallic taste swirled in my mouth. Blood again. My cheeks throbbed. “I don’t understand.” I rubbed my face. “Who can’t find me?”
“Shut up.” Aunt Janet folded her skinny arms across her flat chest. “I never should have agreed to raise you.”
Wiping my bloody mouth on my arm, I kept silent. That’s a laugh. Yeah, I was real grateful. Nothing like getting the crap beat out of you because you’re not a Martin. My last name’s Costa, my mother’s maiden name.
A motorcycle roared outside my window. Aunt Janet’s thin face paled. Her thin lips, smeared with red lipstick, pinched together. She dropped her arms. “It’s them. I know it’s them.”
I half-hoped it was Rusty Owens, my self-appointed protector. Rusty had long dark red hair and rode a fiery crimson motorcycle, but when I peered out the window, disappointment hit me. It was just some old gray haired guy on a blue bike.
I frowned. “So, whoever is looking for me rides a motorcycle?”
Holding up her arm, she clenched her fist. “Didn’t you hear me?” She took a step towards me.
I cringed and clamped my jaw tight. With her wild green eyes and spiky blond hair, she loomed over me like an Amazon ready to rip my guts out. I turned away. Never look a rapid dog in the face.
“Get a hold of yourself.”
I peeked back around. Sweat poured down Uncle Peter’s face, and a lock of fuzzy orange hair stuck to his forehead. He glowered at Aunt Janet and then slammed his fist into his oversized palm. “They can’t find him.”
I swallowed. Who? A lump of fear formed in my stomach. Somebody chased me, but no one would tell me who. But the thing that terrified me more was that Aunt and Uncle were scared.
Aunt Janet ran her hand through her sonic hedge-hog cut blond hair and paced across the floor. Her high heels clicked on the hardwood floor. “What will we do?”
“Keep him locked in the cellar. If he’s beat down…”
Yes, poor Armond. How will he get out of this one? Healer is one of my favorite books I have written and I really enjoyed the characters. Of course, I hope you feel the same way.
With spring in the air, I wish you all loads of sunshine. I know I’m tired of winter. Cheers to sunshine, fresh cut grass, and lazy days of summer!
A small stampede barged after me. “Going somewhere, boy?” Uncle Peter’s heavy footsteps trailed me. “You’ll never get the chance to heal.” His heavy panting echoed in the cramped stairwell. “Not…after…I…get…through…with…you.”
“Not in three days, you won’t.” Aunt Janet gritted her teeth. “I promise you that.”
Great, more pain. They could at least tell me what I did.
My hand shook as I whipped open my door. I charged towards the window. Freedom was only six feet away. Out the corner of my eye, an elephant size blur barreled right for me. I shrank, but Uncle Peter grabbed my arm and threw me.
As the room swirled, I crashed into the wall, knocking the wind out of me. Sweet Aunt Janet stormed over to me and backed me against the wall. “This. Is. Your. Fault.” With each word, she slapped me across the face and slammed my head like a Ping-Pong ball into the hard wood paneling. She wheezed and stopped. “Since it’s your damn fourteenth birthday tomorrow, they’re hunting you, putting us all in danger.”
God, her breathe stank of peppermint gum. Her hands reeked of her gawd awful rose perfume. A metallic taste swirled in my mouth. Blood again. My cheeks throbbed. “I don’t understand.” I rubbed my face. “Who can’t find me?”
“Shut up.” Aunt Janet folded her skinny arms across her flat chest. “I never should have agreed to raise you.”
Wiping my bloody mouth on my arm, I kept silent. That’s a laugh. Yeah, I was real grateful. Nothing like getting the crap beat out of you because you’re not a Martin. My last name’s Costa, my mother’s maiden name.
A motorcycle roared outside my window. Aunt Janet’s thin face paled. Her thin lips, smeared with red lipstick, pinched together. She dropped her arms. “It’s them. I know it’s them.”
I half-hoped it was Rusty Owens, my self-appointed protector. Rusty had long dark red hair and rode a fiery crimson motorcycle, but when I peered out the window, disappointment hit me. It was just some old gray haired guy on a blue bike.
I frowned. “So, whoever is looking for me rides a motorcycle?”
Holding up her arm, she clenched her fist. “Didn’t you hear me?” She took a step towards me.
I cringed and clamped my jaw tight. With her wild green eyes and spiky blond hair, she loomed over me like an Amazon ready to rip my guts out. I turned away. Never look a rapid dog in the face.
“Get a hold of yourself.”
I peeked back around. Sweat poured down Uncle Peter’s face, and a lock of fuzzy orange hair stuck to his forehead. He glowered at Aunt Janet and then slammed his fist into his oversized palm. “They can’t find him.”
I swallowed. Who? A lump of fear formed in my stomach. Somebody chased me, but no one would tell me who. But the thing that terrified me more was that Aunt and Uncle were scared.
Aunt Janet ran her hand through her sonic hedge-hog cut blond hair and paced across the floor. Her high heels clicked on the hardwood floor. “What will we do?”
“Keep him locked in the cellar. If he’s beat down…”
Yes, poor Armond. How will he get out of this one? Healer is one of my favorite books I have written and I really enjoyed the characters. Of course, I hope you feel the same way.
With spring in the air, I wish you all loads of sunshine. I know I’m tired of winter. Cheers to sunshine, fresh cut grass, and lazy days of summer!
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