Red Sleeper by Brian Downes

 

Red Sleeper
The Berlin Fraternity Universe
Book Two
Brian Downes
 
Genre: Historical horror
 
Date of Publication: December 1st, 2017
 
ISBN-13: 978-1978447349
ISBN-10: 1978447345
ASIN:
 
Number of pages: 450
Word Count: 118,766
 
Cover Artist: Miriam Medina
 
Tagline: A cold war after dark.
 
Book Description:
 
In the horsepower town of 1950s Detroit, FBI agent Christopher Haigwood is raising his Catholic family and hunting Soviet spies. Then a communist fanatic who was arrested with a lot of guns, dynamite, and heroin breaks out of jail right before his eyes, and Haigwood is plunged into a terrifying labyrinth of plots, informants, liars, and the horrifying revelation that vampires are real, and that some of his KGB quarry are undead.
 
Red Sleeper is set in the world of The Berlin Fraternity.




Excerpt:
          Haigwood
had read Walter Swale’s file several times. He’d written sections of it. White.
Brown eyes, brown hair, approximately 5’6”, 175 pounds estimated weight. Father
born in Poland, 1893, changed the family name to Swale from Szwarc on arrival
in the USA. Haigwood had studied photographs of Swale to memorize the high
chin, the bulging lips, the distance between the eyes, the widow’s peak that
pointed out of the receding hairline. He had once sat at Swale’s kitchen table
with the curtains drawn and copied names out of his address book while Swale
was out at the movies. Now Swale was sitting in jail, having been brought in
the night before for resisting arrest, along with possession of: four ounces
Mexican heroin, ten sticks dynamite, one M1 rifle with two hundred rounds of
ammunition, one police revolver with ammunition, and twenty-three copies of a
Communist Party pamphlet urging workers to revolt against their bosses and
their elected leaders in Washington, D.C.
          Haigwood
had been at home with his wife, Annie, over the Thanksgiving weekend. He’d
gotten the call last night at dinner. Now he was walking into the jail at eight
on Monday morning to get his first eyeball-to-eyeball with this Red they had
been watching for more than six months.
          There
was a jail guard stationed at the front desk. Haigwood smiled at the man as he
unwrapped his scarf from around his neck. “Good morning! How’s everything with
you fellas?”
          “Good
morning,” the guard answered, looking him up and down warily. “Is it snowing
already?”
          Haigwood
took his fedora off, tapped the snow dust off its brim, and ran his hand
through his hair. “Yes, it’s brisk out there!” He pulled out his credentials.
“I’m Christopher Haigwood, Federal Bureau of Investigation. I’m here to see
Swale, Walter, a prisoner brought in about 2100 hours last night.”
          The
guard, whom Haigwood saw was about ten years younger than he was, focused on
Haigwood’s ID. He reached his hand out tentatively to touch the wallet. “I
heard about that. So you really work for J. Edgar Hoover, huh?”
          “And
the American people,” Haigwood answered with a smile. “Now do you think you
could get someone to show me to Swale?”
          The
guard picked up a telephone receiver from a handset at his station and dialed a
number. Haigwood toyed with his hat, smothered his impatient sigh, and looked
around at the signs in the jail’s foyer. The signs told him to be on the alert
for any men dressed in black and gray stripes, because they might be escaping inmates.
And that he was going to have to surrender his revolver if he wanted to go any
further. He looked out the window and saw the snowflakes floating gently
downward, their numbers growing. From further inside the jail he could smell
the morning coffee, but he’d just finished off a Coca-Cola in the car.
          He
was really angry at Swale for getting himself arrested like this. But he was
very much looking forward to speaking to him personally.
          A
second guard appeared and took Haigwood inside the jail. This one older than
him, and not shy at all about staring at the G-man with frank curiosity. He had
a nametag that read, “G. Cantor”. Nobody asked Haigwood for his service weapon,
so he kept his overcoat on and didn’t mention it.
          “So
I read this guy’s sheet,” Haigwood’s guide said indifferently as they walked.
          “Yeah,
you did?”
          “Yeah,”
Cantor nodded, looking like he didn’t care, but watching Haigwood’s face
carefully. “You know we don’t get a lot of dynamiters in here.”
          “Oh,
you don’t?” Haigwood put a chime of surprise in his voice.
          “No,”
the guard said, warming up to explaining his job to someone he had expected to
be smarter than him. “We don’t get too many commies, either.”
          “I
guess you’ve got one today, though?”
          “Yeah,
yeah, we’ve sure got one today. It’s an unusual day. Here he is, on the end.”
          They
had been walking down a chilly, second-level row of cells as Haigwood parried
Cantor’s efforts to pump him for information. It was cold enough that Haigwood
was quite comfortable with his overcoat on. Morning light, turned a cottony
gray by the snow coming down outside, slanted in through the high, narrow,
barred windows.
          Swale
was up early, and had heard them coming. Haigwood could see him pressing his
face up against the bars of his cell, craning his neck to see them approach.
But Haigwood stopped first at the cell adjacent to Swale’s, and looked down at
a little man wrapped in a blanket on one of the cell’s two bunks. “Who’s this?”
He asked Cantor.
          “Who,
him? That’s Hobson. He stays with us sometimes, three or four times a year.”
          “What
brings him in?”
          “Tuning
up his wife.”
          Haigwood
gestured at Hobson’s sleeping cellmate. “And what about that one?”
          “That’s,
uh, Gomez. Got drunk and stabbed a fellow over a game of cards.”
          “OK,”
Haigwood said, reassured that the two men who might overhear his conversation
didn’t much matter. He told the guard, “Thank you very much, Mr. Cantor, I’ll
be fine here,” as he took the final few steps that brought him face to face
with Walter Swale through the bars of his cell.


 
About the Author:
 
Brian Downes learned to read at a young age. He is now a novelist who lives in Orlando, Florida. His other novels are The Berlin Fraternity and The Carrefour Crisis. He also writes for the website Florida Geek Scene.
 
 
 
Facebook:
 
Goodreads:

Taken by a Highland Laird by Sky Purington


Taken by a Highland Laird
The MacLomain Series
A New Beginning
Book 2
Sky Purington       
Genre:  Time Travel Fantasy Romance
Date of Publication:  December 18th, 2017
ASIN: B075R825PZ
Number of pages:  280
Word Count:  87,500
Cover Artist:  Tara West
Book Description:
The last thing Lindsay expects when she visits Milly’s home in New Hampshire is to be thrust back in time to thirteenth century Scotland days before the Battle of Stirling Bridge. Worse yet, captured by the English. Using her wits and ability to wrap men around her little finger, she survives long enough to be rescued by a band of Scotsmen. One of them, a rigid Highland chieftain determined to protect his country, rarely lets her out of his sight. A man, as it turns out, who is immune to her allure…or so it seems.
From the moment Clan MacLomain decides to save Scotland’s history, Laird Conall Hamilton knows he needs to be part of it. What he does not foresee is a beautiful twenty-first century actress crossing his path. More so, that they end up caught in an obligatory kiss that sparks an infamous battle. A kiss, as Fate would have it, that takes them on an adventure through time to both the Action at Earnside Skirmish and the Action at Happrew.
Joining first Sir William Wallace then King Robert the Bruce, Conall and Lindsay end up on a journey that will leave neither unscathed. Though determined to keep each other at arm’s length, desire simmers, reeling them ever closer. Inner demons are faced as they navigate a powerful connection neither saw coming. A bond so intense and passionate that it might very well help them defeat the enemy and save a nation.
Amazon      
 
Excerpt
#1
“You could slow
down some,” she muttered under her breath as none other than Laird Conall
Hamilton yanked her through the woods toward Stirling Bridge.
“Not if they are
to believe you are my prisoner,” he stated blandly, his hold on her wrist an
unbreakable vice grip.
Naturally, ever
the hero, he had volunteered to bait the English alongside her. At least six
foot five with broad shoulders and endless muscles she was no match for him
physically. But maybe mentally. Time would tell. Lindsay sighed as she stumbled
along and put up a believable struggle. The truth was, Conall was as smart as
he was strong and that, amongst other things, was getting on her nerves.
Sure, being
flung back in time to days before one of the most famous battles in Scottish
history was daunting, but she had handled it. She had worked her magic with
Hugh Cressingham then even John de Warenne, the Earl of Surrey. As she was so
good at when it came to men, she had been what they needed her to be. But then
that’s what she did for a living.
She acted, and
she did so very well.
Again and again,
over and over, no matter where she was.
“The bloody
Sassenach are watching you, lass,” Conall muttered. “They want you back.”
“That’s what
we’re counting on,” she reminded, nearly tripping on a root.
Fog drifted in
thick waves through the damp, pine-scented forest, obscuring far more than she
would like. It hid things from her. Kept something from her. Up until this
point, she had been strong but something about that, not being able to see
beyond the fog, sent shivers through her. A chill and dread that, of all
things, had her clutching the ring in her pocket for comfort.
Guidance.
Protection.
But why would
she feel that way?
Even as she
shook her head against the idea, she slid the Claddagh ring on. Unfortunately,
it didn’t affect her fear in the least. If anything, it made her feel more
vulnerable. Or was it really the ring? She frowned as her eyes went to Conall.
“So what is your
plan once we get close?” she said. “Because I thought I should be the one to
put on the show seeing how I am a professional actress and you’re ah…well,
rather transparent.”
“I suspect you
will put on a show,” he acknowledged, clearly not all that impressed as he
pulled her along. “I’ll be curious to see how well you perform.”
Like Adlin and
Bryce, he said ‘you’ instead of ‘ye’ when speaking with her. Evidently, it was
how medieval MacLomains made it easier for twenty-first century women to
understand them.
“So why are you
so upset?” Lindsay arched her brows, about over his attitude given their
current circumstances. “Might it be because I spent the night in William’s
tent?”
Conall scowled.
“Why would I care if you spent the night in his tent?”
Lindsay rolled
her eyes. “Because you have been smitten with me since the night all of you
saved me from the English.”
“Is that what
you think?” His voice remained bland. “Or could you have misconstrued my
vigilance in protecting a lass who tempts her own demise at every turn as
affection?”
She dodged
another root, growing more irritated by the moment. “So ending up in the
enemy’s camp against my will was tempting my own demise?” She inhaled deeply at
his gall. “Are you serious?”
“Ending up in
Cressingham’s arms was tempting something,” he returned. “And God only knows
what you were up to in the Earl’s tent.”
She narrowed her
eyes at the back of his head. They might have met a few days ago, but this was
the most he had ever spoken to her. Where she had hoped they might be able to
speak sooner, now she was of the mind he had spared her.
“Why don’t you
say what’s really on your mind, Conall,” she said. “Because I highly doubt it
has anything to do with me being in anyone’s arms but William’s—”

 

That’s all she
managed to get out before he whipped her around and backed her against a tree.
Half a breath later his lips were on hers.
About the Author:
Sky Purington is the bestselling author of over thirty novels and several novellas. A New Englander born and bred who recently moved to Virginia, Sky was raised hearing stories of folklore, myth, and legend. When combined with a love for nature, romance, and time-travel, elements from the stories of her youth found release in her books.
Purington loves to hear from readers and can be contacted at Sky@SkyPurington. Interested in keeping up with Sky’s latest news and releases? Either visit Sky’s website, www.SkyPurington.com, subscribe to her quarterly newsletter or sign up for personalized text message alerts. Simply text ‘skypurington’ (no quotes, one word, all lowercase) to 74121 or visit Sky’s Sign-up Page. Texts will ONLY be sent when there is a new book release. Readers can easily opt out at any time.
Love social networking? Find Sky on Facebook and Twitter.
Website:   www.skypurington.com
 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

Holy Crap! The World is Ending! By Anna-Marie Abell

 


Holy Crap! The World is Ending!
How a Trip to the Bookstore Led to
Sex with an Alien and the Destruction of Earth
The Anunnaki Chronicles
Book One
Anna-Marie Abell
Genre: Humorous Paranormal Romance
Publisher: Alien Abduction Press
Date of Publication: September 21, 2017
ISBN: 978-1-947119-01-7
ASIN: B071Z7YTW7
Number of pages: 349
Word Count: Just under 114,000
Tagline: End times are here! Now you can eat whatever you want and not care if you gain weight.
Book Description:
The president has announced that Earth is going to collide with a rogue moon, and in the process, our entire planet is going to be smashed to bits. As one would expect, upon hearing this news, humans went ballistic. It was as if every sports team in the world lost their championship game at the same time. No car was left unrolled—but oddly enough, Taco Bell remained open and made unfathomable profits in the last days. Apparently, Doritos Locos® Tacos were a popular last meal.
Autumn (who for the purpose of this retelling asked to be portrayed as drool-inducing hot with kick-ass ninja skills) has just been handed the task of saving all of humanity. With the help of her unbelievably sexy alien boyfriend and her kleptomaniac friend with fire-retardant hair, Autumn takes a spaceship and races to save her fellow humans by using the Ark of the Covenant. Along the way, she discovers how sheltered people are from the truth of extraterrestrials and their power to either protect us or destroy us.
Stupid government.
Grab a bottle of wine, a shipload of snacks, and prepare to take a ride on this humorous chick lit romantic sci-fi paranormal adventure. If you’re into Ancient Aliens, conspiracy theories, UFOs, crave a little sexy time in your reading, are curious if we were genetically engineered (like the Sumerian cuneiform texts claim), and are dying to find out the meaning of life, then this book is for you.
Amazon      BN      Kobo      iTunes     IndieBound      Author Website
What Reviewers Have to Say
“An unexpected story that promises to be one of the most creative fictional discoveries of the year…a fun approach to the entire save-the-Earth-from-alien-invasion scenario which successfully turns traditional approaches upside down.”- D. Donovan, Senior Reviewer, Midwest Book Review
“A rollicking seat of your pants fun ride through the universe!”- Joan Silvestro, Booktrader of Hamilton
“An awesome read! Warm, witty–and thought provoking–a beach read that stays with you throughout the year!”- Aionios Books
“This book starts with a lot of humour, but quickly gets a very rich storyline with great characters and seriously… this ending? If you like to be blown away, you should read this!” – Esther, BiteIntoBooks
“Anna-Marie Abell has succeeded in weaving her years of study into in the ancient Sumerian culture and their gods with common conspiracy theories, pop culture and random human quirkiness into an out of this world end times romp that will have you laughing out loud at the most inappropriate times and possibly even shedding a tear or two before it’s all said and done.” – Jennifer, JennlyReads

 

Excerpt 2
He tenderly
swept my hair behind my ear and whispered, “I want you so bad right now.”
“Do you now?”
I bent to kiss
him. The instant we connected, electricity sizzled through our bodies.
Groaning, he hastily swapped our positions, so he was on top of me, and pressed
one leg between my thighs. One of his hands cupped my breast as he kissed my
neck; the other hand teased the skin just underneath my shirt.
“Boy, you don’t
waste any time, do you?” I breathed.
His sexy
half-smile lit up his face and he pressed his knee a little higher. The tingles
of an orgasm arose between my legs. No way am I going to last more than a
minute at this rate. Desperately needing things to progress more quickly, I
clawed at my clothes, trying to remove them.
Brushing his
lips against my ear, Rigel rumbled, “So impatient.” His hot breath against my
skin brought on the inevitable vibrations.
“Just a bit,” I
panted.
With a throaty
chuckle, he trailed his tongue along my cheek until he reached my mouth. He
lingered there, brushing his bottom lip against mine. One brush… then another.
“What are you
waiting for?” I protested.
“Just slowing
things down for you.”
“Well, stop it.”
I meant that to be playful, but my need practically had me snarling at him. He
was driving me insane.
With another
chuckle, he bit my bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth. The building pressure
in my core made me moan.
He grinned at
me. “If that set you off, you’d better get prepared for what I’m going to do
next.”
My heart
pounded. Oh, god. “You aren’t playing fair.”
Placing his arms
on either side of me, he brought his knee up, parting my legs until his thigh
pressed firmly against me.
I moaned again.
“Who said this
was going to be fair?” he said.
He rocked his
leg once. Another moan.
“Oh, so we’re
playing dirty?” Feeling gutsy from the lust, I used my fingernails to stoke the
growing bulge in his pants. I felt it twitch. I can’t believe I just did that!
He let out a
long breath and dove in for a kiss. Our lips parted, and he thoroughly claimed
my mouth. Any shyness I had melted away once his skilled tongue explored mine.
I gave back with the same intensity, my arms wrapping around his neck, fingers
lacing in his hair. He tasted like wine and honey. Our breathing became heavy,
moving in and out in sync.
The next thing I
knew, my shirt was off and flung on top of the lampshade. He carried me to his
bed and set me on the down comforter. The duvet was cool against my feverish
skin. Towering above me, Rigel stripped off his shirt, revealing his broad
chest. His muscles were taut, his skin smooth, abs rippling down to show a
faint trail of golden hair leading into his jeans.
“See something
you like?” he said.
Blushing, I
returned my greedy gaze to his face. Too much eye candy for a mere mortal to
handle. His hair was messy, partially falling into his face and artistically
shaping his features. That damn hair is such a turn-on.
I couldn’t wait.
I was as crazed as an impulse shopper on Black Friday, and Rigel was my
ten-dollar toaster oven. Pulling myself to my knees using his jean loops for
support, I gave his chest soft kisses. He still smelled of lavender, but now it
was mixed with a sweeter smell I couldn’t identify. It made me want to lick him
all over. Clutching the loops tighter, I began to explore.
As I moved lower
and lower with each kiss, his form danced and shone along the edges. I had to
rest my forehead against his abs and catch my breath. If I wasn’t careful, I
might pass out. When I went to unbutton his jeans, this untamed lust that
possessed me had my muscles contracting in anticipation, and I lost all ability
to use my hands. I couldn’t get the blasted button open.
“Dammit!”
With a playful
growl, Rigel thrust me back on the bed and finished undressing me… slowly. Way
too slowly. I didn’t know if it was because I was all revved up and ready to
go, or if he did it on purpose to drive me nuts, but either way it whipped me
into a frenzy. He slid one bra strap down, then the other. Reaching behind me,
he stroked my spine, and I arched my back to let him undo the fastener. As he
flung the bra across the room, his eyes blazed with anticipation of the feast
he was about to devour.
I was so
distracted by his firm pectoral muscles that it didn’t even register with me
that I was completely naked—until I saw he was twirling my panties around on
his pinky finger, one corner of his mouth quirked in a smile.
“How did you do
that?”
With a smirk he
answered, “One of my gifts.”
The bastard knew
I was about to burst with anticipation, so he taunted me further by slowly
undressing himself. First he undid the button on his jeans, then his fingers
moved to open the zipper. Inch by inch he unzipped it.
“You are pure
evil,” I breathed.
He pulled back
one side, then the other. No underwear. I gasped. The jeans slid to the ground.
Oh… my… god. He
was getting a five-star rating on Yelp first thing in the morning.
Unable to take
my eyes from it, I said, “That can’t be street legal.”

 

“No, but it
makes for a hell of a ride.”
 
About the Author:
Anna-Marie Abell grew up in a trailer park. Well, several actually. Her trailer was on wheels so she got to experience the Pacific Northwest’s vast array of mobile home parks as her parents moved her from one to the other. Somewhere along the way, she got totally into UFOs. Probably because she was hoping extraterrestrials would come and abduct her. But they never did. Luckily for her she was smart, because her only hope of escaping trailer life was college and a full scholarship. Moving to sunny California on her almost full ride to Chapman University, she was well on her way to her new life. Two bachelor degrees later (Film and Television Production and Media Performance), and several honors and awards for her accomplishments, she managed to start working in an almost completely unrelated industry from her majors: infomercials.
It was in college that she got bit by the “ancient alien” bug after listening to Zecharia Sitchin on Coast to Coast AM. In her pursuit to uncover the truth, she has spent the last twenty years researching the ancient Sumerian culture—in particular their “gods” called the Anunnaki—and their connection to the creation of the human race. What she found changed her life, her beliefs, and her understanding of the universe and everything beyond. Her humorous science fiction trilogy, The Anunnaki Chronicles, is a culmination of all her research, her borderline obsession for all things paranormal, and approximately 2,300 bottles of wine.

a Rafflecopter giveaway