Thursday, May 21, 2015


♥➷♥ 3 NOVELS FOR FREE ♥➷♥  Mystery or Horror. You pick!!!
....What do you do when you are drugged, tied, hanging from the ceiling, and your feet are planted in a bucket of concrete? P.I. Sully digs deep in Sullyland - A Las Vegas Mystery
....What do you when you're 17, trapped with elite soldiers, surrounded by zombies, ammo and supplies run low, and your boyfriend is outside and M.I.A.? Julie Rayzor locks and loads for the final battle.
Starting Thursday May 21st until the 25th for Memorial Day weekend only!!!  (And always free on Kindle Unlimited.)
PLEASE SHARE THIS POST - my goal is to give away over 5000 copies !!!
Do you need three full-length fast-paced adventure novels for Memorial Day weekend?
Sullyland - A Sully Las Vegas Mystery:

Julie Rayzor - Zombie War Series Book One:
RayzorWire - Zombie War Series Book Two:
“Crisp, fast-paced action novel... Writing style is very impressive... realistic energy and highly effective tough combat... Great dialogue in this entertaining novel... Elmore Leonard type: short, character-revealing, and advancing the story conflict. And conflict is everywhere... I will not give away any secrets in the plot... I won’t tell you about the train scenes, wow, you’ll have to discover those yourself...” says John Hill, Author and Screenwriter of "Quigley Down Under", and "Close Encounters of the Third Kind" (uncredited), "LA Law" and "Quantum Leap".
Sullyland Excerpt:
Roused into a hazy darkness, dust with a hint of lime-the odor of fresh concrete, a stretching of my arms and a slap across my face made the world clearer. John Medici rubbed his hands, injuring himself on my jaw-line. I smiled.
“Wake up, dead man,” Anthony ‘Tall-Tony’ Constantino said. A half-dozen men stood around me.
My head swelled, aching, thudding, as the drug wore off, my crossed eyes focused in the dim room. I hung from my arms, propped upright.
“I want you awake for this,” Medici said. “You don’t get to die easy. I want you to suffer every agonizing gulp of water as it floods your lungs and try to grow gills and breathe like a fish.” He laughed.
With wrists tied above my head, my body hanging down, ropes secured me to a gaffing hook bolted to the ceiling. I sighed and dropped my eyes, gazing at the floor.
Legs weighted down, frozen, paralyzed, my feet held inside a bucket of masonry cement. No one wore concrete galoshes since Whitey Bulger won the Massachusetts state lottery and went on the lam… no one until me. My murder would be stereotypical... a cliché from old movies about Al Capone. I’d be embarrassed for them if the victim was anyone else. Blood drained from my head, I grew weak, panic rising.
Calm, I told myself. What can I do? Analyze the situation… How did I get myself into this mess? Anthony promised not to kill me… Fat joke. What did I do? I insulted John. A minor jab to anyone else except a man who possessed no humor. Killing Butterfield didn’t scare me off… probably upsetting Veronika more than worry of her own death… She wanted her children to be safe. This doesn’t help.
Eyes opening wider and my face flushing renewed bouts of laughter from the audience. They pulled at beer bottles until John gestured–retiring to the upper decks and saying, “Let’s wait while the concrete dries.”

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