DL Link's Blog - Posts Tagged "teaser"
Cry Wolf Teaser
Cry Wolf debuts October 1st, and is available for pre-order through Amazon or through daniellinkauthor.com
Here's a sneak peek at Mack's first adventure from Fawkes Press.
Chapter 1
When my head went in the toilet, I thought about leaving the city. Arms the size of I-beams with about as much give held me under while I thrashed on the floor, and what popped into my head? Buffalo. I’ll bet Buffalo’s nice this time of year. Mind you, I was in San Francisco, and I had never been to New York City, let alone Buffalo. When it’s you getting dunked in your own crapper, though, you see if a vacation doesn’t seem like a good idea.
“Bring him up,” Ramon Alcala said, and my head jerked out of the bowl, water spraying off me in a shampoo-commercial arc.
Air. My body screamed for it, but it was hard to take it in. I gasped like a fish, drowning on dry land. Ramon was saying something else, looking at me like he wanted a response. He stood there in his khakis and his pristine white oxford, smiling as his jaw worked up and down with his words, but they were muffled, and I realized I’d heard him better with my face in the john.
As soon as my lungs started to adjust to breathing, Ramon said, “Again.”
“No,” I cried, but it was cut off by the chlorinated water filling my mouth.
The second time I went down I was still thinking about Buffalo, but my mind was starting to recreate the chain of events that led me to my predicament. Still at the top of my priorities was air, but a not too distant second was to stop the god-damned soul searching. That wouldn’t get me anywhere. So I fought the good fight to get air and forced myself not to remember better times, and think only of Buffalo, and how I’d like to be there instead.
Cry Wolf
Here's a sneak peek at Mack's first adventure from Fawkes Press.
Chapter 1
When my head went in the toilet, I thought about leaving the city. Arms the size of I-beams with about as much give held me under while I thrashed on the floor, and what popped into my head? Buffalo. I’ll bet Buffalo’s nice this time of year. Mind you, I was in San Francisco, and I had never been to New York City, let alone Buffalo. When it’s you getting dunked in your own crapper, though, you see if a vacation doesn’t seem like a good idea.
“Bring him up,” Ramon Alcala said, and my head jerked out of the bowl, water spraying off me in a shampoo-commercial arc.
Air. My body screamed for it, but it was hard to take it in. I gasped like a fish, drowning on dry land. Ramon was saying something else, looking at me like he wanted a response. He stood there in his khakis and his pristine white oxford, smiling as his jaw worked up and down with his words, but they were muffled, and I realized I’d heard him better with my face in the john.
As soon as my lungs started to adjust to breathing, Ramon said, “Again.”
“No,” I cried, but it was cut off by the chlorinated water filling my mouth.
The second time I went down I was still thinking about Buffalo, but my mind was starting to recreate the chain of events that led me to my predicament. Still at the top of my priorities was air, but a not too distant second was to stop the god-damned soul searching. That wouldn’t get me anywhere. So I fought the good fight to get air and forced myself not to remember better times, and think only of Buffalo, and how I’d like to be there instead.
Cry Wolf
