Week 64 and we are all about the thrillers, the
zombie apocalypses, the clowns peeking out of the overflow drainage grate.
Now I don’t have a thriller, even if my first
Moonlit Wolves book was describes as “A thriller that turned into mating ritual”
but I do have a horror story coming out sometime this month.
I know this isn’t a romance, but it’s only just over
6K, and much more about metal health than anything else, so please don’t push
it aside just because it’s not got the emotions a romance holds, it does. That’s all this book
is *smiles*
So, nothing sexy, but it’s the closest thing I have
to thriller at the moment, so this is all I can give you.
She landed like, well, what you’d expect a person to look like when
they’d fallen down the stairs. There wasn’t any blood. In all honesty, I stood
there waiting for her to get up. Waiting for a moment when she’d roll over, and
all would be well.
It didn’t happen.
Laughter had me looking at the top of the stairs but there wasn’t
anyone there. I shook my head; I was hearing things. I puffed a nervous laugh
before looking back towards the bottom, the girl. Maybe it didn’t actually
happen. My head hurt like a bitch. Maybe it had all been a dream.
She was still there, only this time the guy was crouching over her, his
fingers in her hair as he twisted it around. He looked up at me, and I nearly
screamed; the only reason I didn’t was because I’d stopped breathing.
He laughed; it scraped against my brain, stabbed at my head, and had
cold sweat building up along my spine.
Turning my back, I grabbed the rail and pulled myself up the stairs. I
didn’t care where I was going, didn’t care that I was meant to find my room,
somewhere to lock myself up in, to hide. I just wanted out. Just wanted away
from him. Please let me get away from him.
And onto the pimping and other random fact linked to
this hop