My friend Patricia has a new book out this week! Let's find out more about it, shall we? Then scroll down for an awesome giveaway!
Blurb
Death
Murder
The Afterlife
These things fascinate our imagination. Delve into a collection of tales that explore death and murder. Each story is told in exactly 200 words and designed to give you a quick thrill no matter how busy your day is.
ARE YOU PREPARED FOR THE END?
Buy Links
About the Author
Patricia Josephine is a writer of Urban Fantasy and Sci-Fi Romance books. She actually never set out to become a writer, and in fact, she was more interested in art and band in high school and college. Her dreams were of becoming an artist like Picasso. On a whim, she wrote down a story bouncing in her head for fun. That was the start of her writing journey, and she hasn't regretted a moment. When she's not writing, she's watching Doctor Who or reading about serial killers. She's an avid knitter. One can never have too much yarn. She writes Young Adult Paranormal, Science Fiction, and Fantasy under the name Patricia Lynne.
Patricia lives with her husband in Michigan, hopes one day to have what will resemble a small petting zoo, and has a fondness for dying her hair the colors of the rainbow.
Social Media Links:
Patricia Josephine:
Patricia Lynne:
Excerpt
DEATH DIDN’T COME TODAY. Night had fallen, and the lure of sleep tugged on me. I dragged myself to my feet and dumped the now cold tea.
Maybe tomorrow, I told myself as I brushed my teeth.
I ignored the little voice that whispered it wasn’t normal to wish for Death. I understood that, but normal was boring. Normal didn’t take you on adventures around the world.
Normal didn’t introduce you to Death.
I remembered the first time we met. It had been an autumn day in New Zealand.I was waiting for the tour to start. I was finally seeing where The Hobbithad been filmed. My excitement was palatable. An older man collapsed and the medics were called. Their attempts to revive him were fruitless. That was when I saw Death.
Noone else seemed aware of him. I watched him weave through the crowd. He was reaching for the body when our eyes met. Confusion flitted across his pale face. Later that night, I saw him again. He didn’t understand why I saw him. It wasn’t my time.
When, I asked.
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