Saturday, March 1, 2014

Cast in Blood (Morgan Blackstone) by Michelle Rabe @michrabe

NEW ORLEANS SEP 4, 2009

The Assassin’s voice boomed through the closed double doors to the study for the fifth time since he’d entered the room with Morgan’s Blood Sons, almost five hours before.  Marcus cringed as the doors were flung open, and Nicholas strode out, rage radiating from every inch of his six–foot, four–inch frame. Storm–gray eyes landed on Marcus, narrowed to slits, and he stalked past, commanding him to follow with an imperious wave of his right hand. Not wanting to piss the Assassin off more, Marcus bit back a snide comment, and followed him up the sweeping staircase to the mansion’s upper floors.

“Damn it all to hell, Old Man!” Nicholas roared as he began pacing the landing at the top of the stairs. He wanted Marcus to throw himself against his temper to take the edge off.

Ye Gods, Marcus thought, we’ve done this more times than I’d care to count in the centuries we’ve known one another, but this is different. Well, something other than the fact that we’ve barely spoken a civil word to one another in almost two hundred years.

“I take it the boys couldn’t add anything to what we already knew. In spite of the almost five hour interrogation?” Marcus asked, fighting to rein in his own temper, leaning against the banister at the top of the stairs.

“Five hours?” Nicholas stopped moving. He turned to Marcus, meeting his eyes. The other vampire nodded.  “It was really that long?”

“Yes. What’s next, Assassin?” Marcus asked, letting some of the frustration he felt give his voice a hard edge. The last thing they needed right now was for Nicholas to go soft.

“We can’t do anything before the sun sets,” he said, after giving Marcus a long, appraising look.

He’s assessed my well–being and decided I’m not fit for the field. I’ve seen that look too many times before and know better than to argue with him, Marcus thought, trying to work out a logical counter argument.

“I haven’t slept.” Nicholas sighed. “You look like death warmed over and those two are rattled.” He nodded toward the room where he’d left the younger vampires.

“Fine.” Marcus nodded. “I took the liberty of having my staff get us some SUVs. If Morgan’s alive, she’s going to need fresh blood. We’re going to need the extra room.” Marcus was almost certain that he didn’t have to mention that, but the desperate look in Nicholas’s eyes led him to believe that there was no such thing as being too careful in this situation.

“She has to be alive, Marcus.”

“We’ll find her.” Marcus answered, feeling like an ass for lying. We both know that the odds suck. This could be nothing more than trying to find her body. Gods, whoever did this is going to pay.

“I have a very bad feeling about this,” the Assassin muttered, looking through Marcus. Nicholas’s mind was turning over what he knew, making connections and searching for others.

“How so?” Marcus asked, prompting Nicholas to think aloud, knowing it helped him make connections he otherwise missed, and it gave Marcus the opportunity to make a few as well.

“The security footage Danny sent over from the club’s parking lot shows Morgan and her attackers, but never their faces.”

“The club has cameras outside?”

“Apparently one of the human staff had some trouble right after the club opened. Morgan had them installed after that.”

“They could have scoped out the cameras. Not too difficult when you know what to look for,” Marcus muttered, his brows drawn together. “Why didn’t anyone see her being attacked, if it was caught on camera? Why are we just learning about this now? Just because she somehow jacked my mind and knocked me flat on my ever–loving ass.” Marcus’s words sped up as he continued, agitation given voice.

“The footage is stored on massive hard drives but not reviewed unless an incident is reported. Since no one reported her disappearance…” Nicholas’s voice trailed off.

“I have a feeling Morgan will be revising that policy when she returns.”

“If she returns.”

Michelle Rabe

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Genre - Paranormal Urban Fantasy

Rating – PG-13

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Website http://paperbackvamp.tumblr.com/

Friday, February 28, 2014

#Suspense #Excerpt from Conspiracy of Silence by Gledé Browne Kabongo @gkabongo

Two years later, Nina found herself taking an hour-long to a state-of-the-art corrections facility, one of the most secure in the nation and the only one to sit on a major highway. She arrived at one of the eight modules used to house prisoners and went through the usual security checkpoints. She was ushered into the visitors’ room. She took a seat and nervously awaited his arrival.
She was jolted from her thoughts when he walked into the visiting area. A slight man to begin with, he had aged, his head now completely grey. His face was gaunt, his cheeks sunken from massive weight loss. She bit down hard on her lips to stop the tears from forming. As she expected, he was less than pleased to see her.
“What are you doing here?”
She didn’t respond.
“If you’re looking for forgiveness, you’re in the wrong place. But the prison chapel isn’t too far from here.”
She finally found her voice. “Forgiveness for what?”
“Sending you own father to prison is unforgivable.”
“Then why did you do it?”
Sadness crept into his face, but it was quickly replaced by the familiar stubbornness and lack of empathy that had defined their relationship.
“I was a good daughter. You didn’t deserve me.”
Nina opened her pocketbook and took out her wallet. She removed a photo and pushed it across the table toward him. He glanced at it then looked back at her. He wanted to ask her something but was too proud.
“Grace and Faith Kasai. A year old today,” she explained.
“Why did you come to see me? You’ve destroyed what was left of my life.”
“No dad. You did that all on your own. All I wanted was a stinking apology, some acknowledgement that I wasn’t some piece of property you could use and dispose of when you felt like it. You weren’t sorry at all. I was living in a hell you sent me to. This was the only way I knew to get out. You had to answer to someone you couldn’t bully or buy off or manipulate.”
“I gave you everything.”
“You gave me the best of what money could buy. What I needed from you was priceless.”
Maybe she was right Phillip thought. There were some things his money couldn’t buy, like Constance Buckwell’s silence. The security he thought it would bring him failed to materialize and he had to take care of her himself by slipping something in her drink when they had dinner. That induced the heart attack that killed her. That should have been the end of his troubles combined with the diary he stole but it was all for naught. Now, he could honestly say it wasn’t worth it. None of it was.
“Congratulations on the twins Nina. I know you’ll make an outstanding mother. You’re excellent at everything you do. I have no doubt that will extend to motherhood.”
With that, Phillip Copeland signaled to be taken back to his cell.
As Nina made her way back to her car, she realized how lucky she was. A big, happy contented smile spread across her face. She had a life beyond anything she could have imagined. And this time, she knew she deserved it.
Conspiracy_Science
#1 Amazon Bestseller in the suspense and women's psychological fiction categories.
Boston executive Nina Kasai has been living a lie since her days as a student at Stanford University. But she's about to learn that some secrets are too big to stay buried.
Years ago, Nina fled from her life of wealth and privilege and vowed never to look back. The horrifying truth has been locked away in her hidden diary, and in the mind of a disturbed woman who will never tell, ever. However, the perfect life she's since created is about to come crashing down when Phillip Copeland --a ghost from her past with political ambition and secrets of his own, makes Nina an offer she can't refuse: her silence in exchange for his.
Soon, it all goes horribly wrong when a  shocking double-cross sends Nina reeling,  and devastating loss threatens to push her over the edge. To make matters worse, her diary, the only link to her secret past has been stolen.
To reclaim her life and bring this twisted game to its stunning conclusion, Nina must confront the past she's been running from, and find the courage to make a life-altering decision that leaves multiple casualties in its wake.
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Genre - Psychological Suspense
Rating – R
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Connect with Gledé Browne Kabongo on Facebook & Twitter

Thursday, February 27, 2014

Jack Canon's Women of the House: Love, Lust & Loyalty by @GregSandora #Excerpt #Romance


"You’d be like the Pied Piper of sex appeal." He answered, his eyes glued to Sandy’s milky white thighs.

"Thanks, Tip, I guess that’s a compliment –right?"

Tip was looking like he wanted to ask her a question.

"Tip, is there something on your mind," Sandy asked, being nice.

"I wanted to ask you…I mean see if you would tell me, why I have so much trouble…"

"With women?" Finishing his question, stating the obvious.

"This should be good," I said, handing Sandy my card, "Get something nice for you, too."

"Tip, you watching? – Jack knows how to treat a woman. It’s a wonder you haven’t picked up anything—being around him all this time."

"I just thought he had some sort of special charisma or something I don’t." Tip answered.

"Well you're right about the charisma, but really there’s something else – and I think it would help, but you’ve got to be honest."



"What," Tip asked anxiously—genuinely wanting pointers.

"The first time I met Jack, he didn’t mention he was a Senator. I walked into an old mattress store – not knowing what I was going to find—Jack looked into my eyes… like an equal. Sure, since then he’s put me on a pedestal, but let me ask you, Tip. What’s the first thing you see when you look at a woman? Be brutally honest – just this once, I won’t mind. "

"I don’t know – it’s different every time, I usually focus on something that catches my eye—like boobs, hair, legs –Tip explained like he’d be getting extra credit for being thorough.

Sandy shook her head, "It’s worse than I thought. You know what I felt the first time Jack looked at me?"

"What?" Tip asked, curious.

"Like… he saw me – as a person – a whole person, not just an object."

"Tip, when I look at a woman as parts it’s intimidating for me, too." I said, trying to make him feel better.

Sandy crossed her leg and starting rolling her ankle, "Tip, what do you see when you look at me?"

"You want me to be honest?"

"Of course—I can’t help you if you’re not."

"Well today I noticed your hips, but I always love your soft doe face."

Sandy looked puzzled, "Soft doe face? What is that?"

"He means you have a very feminine pretty face – there’s no hardness in it."

Tip added, "The women I see usually have rougher facial features."

"Where are you meeting these girls, Tip?"

"Strip clubs mostly."

"That’s nasty Tip! Ewe!"

"Beautiful woman are intimidating – at the clubs the girls are really friendly, easy going."

"They’re friendly because it’s their job – they’re easy because you’re paying them—would you want to marry a girl from one of your clubs?"

"No, but I feel comfortable. I know it’s a job."

"Gross, Tip, that’s so sad."

"A lot of agents have trouble meeting women."

"You need some serious help!" Sandy sounded like a concerned sister.

I coaxed, "He needs a good woman, – do you think you could introduce him to one of your girlfriends?"

"I’d really appreciate any advice you could give me, Sandy." Tip was sincere.

"Tip’s not ready for one of my friends – seriously the girls I know are very needy emotionally – he’d be lost."

Trying to help persuade her, "So, you’re basically resigning him to a life of strip clubs and hookers?"
Sandy looked at me wide-eyed, raising her eyebrows, "Crude, Jack, you’re enjoying this aren’t you." She turned to Tip, "You’re a good man, – you deserve to be happy. Tell me Tip, what do you think women want?"

"I don’t really know – I guess – to be made happy?"

"So how would you do it then – make a girl happy that is?"

"Agree with her, make her feel important, give her things I guess."

"That’s a start, but a woman needs so much more. She wants someone who can share in her emotions without being swallowed up by them. A man who will take his time with her and make time for her—She doesn’t want to be rushed, but still likes spontaneity and excitement. She wants to feel like your equal and be respected for what she brings to the relationship. And, I’m just scratching the surface here."

"Men…do all this?"

"Some do—Jack does this stuff—he’s kind… caring—he listens. Jack enjoys what women are all about—He looks with great passion. Tip,—she wants to know that you’re desirable to other women and she didn’t just get stuck with you."

"What about…?" Tip stopped himself, embarrassed.

"The bedroom...She’ll forgive you. Don’t worry she’ll follow your lead. Just don’t make her feel bad by talking about it later. That’s the one place you can sort of be yourself...I can’t believe I’m saying this—the poor thing …take it slow."

"Are there classes?"

"A good woman will teach you."

"Did Jack know all this?"

"Are you kidding? All he had was a smile when I met him – and a wandering eye. It’s taken me years of subtle clues and hints to train him."

"Some not so subtle," I said, poking fun.

"She wants a friend – but not a guy that makes her feel responsible to make the first move or like she’s a locker room pal."

Tip looked puzzled, "I’m lost."

"Jack, just for fun – tell Tip what you’re really thinking… right now."

"You’re serious –now? No holds barred – what I’m really thinking?"

"Yes, something you’d normally never share with me."

Tip chuckled, "This oughta be good."

"Before you do… let me guess." Sandy squinted and looked up to the left then to the right –

"Something about my panties?"

"Close—what was left of those cutoffs you were wearing that day by the lake."

"I was really close then. Tip, what did you think Jack was thinking?"

"I would have said World peace – you know to make you happy."

"Coward- okay tell the truth what are you thinking right now?"

"The truth… really? – what it would be like – you know…if you were my girlfriend." Sandy rolled her eyes, pursing her lips.

"Not going to happen- but I’ll help. We just have to start really slow."

"Jack gets to say what’s on his mind and you’re okay with it?"

"There’s a lot of trust built up that you and I don’t share. Stop whining – that’s a deal killer for sure."

"You asked though. I thought you wanted honesty?"

"Sometimes…oh forget it…"

Tip cut her off, "Am I a lost cause then?"

"No, I didn’t say…don’t feel like that – we’ve got something to work with. You’re good looking – dangerous – you might be a girl’s worst mistake, at least for the first few, but you’ll learn as you go."

"So will you set me up with one of your friends? One who looks most like you—preferably?"

"Sweet, Tip…, but wrong. Not when you don’t understand the first thing about a woman. They’d thank me at first, but you wouldn’t last two weeks with one of my friends – try to imagine flying too close to a super nova. They’d burn you up and drag you into an emotional black hole. You’d never escape!"

"I can keep a woman safe, at least."

"Of course you can. A woman wants to feel safe, understood, but she also wants a man that isn’t afraid of her -someone who can be honest. Tell her the truth once in a while. Then grab her and make love without asking. A woman wants to live the full range—she wants you to be able to feel her emotions with her – from misery to elation. Can you do that?"

"I can try."

"That-a-boy, let’s go out sometime and find you someone suitable. A starter girlfriend."

"That will be great, are you free tonight?"

"Tonight? I guess so – you don’t need for anything, do you, Jack?"

"No I’m good – take him out – it’s on me." I was happy to make the offer. Sandy would have a project and I wouldn’t feel guilty about leaving her behind.

"We’ll find you a girl with a doe face. You’ll have to show me – but once I know – I’m sure we can find you one. If that’s what you want."

"Really? This will be great. Sandy, I’ll owe you!"

"You’ll owe me big time!"

Womenofthehouse
Two months have passed since the long awaited inauguration of the New President of the United States - Jack Canon. Now he must live up to his promises. The World is wounded, people are hurting, the new President must keep the country afloat. Jack leads a very full life - The first couple's relationship is hot with passion, but he can never admit that to Sandy, his best friend who is also head over heels in love with him. The Women of the House provide a welcome distraction while helping with the arduous task of running the country.
As President Jack must make tough decisions: Global Terrorism, Human Trafficking, Korea on the brink of war, all while thwarting International Greed. Women of the House is a story of noble sacrifice at extremely high cost. Who's going to be the first to be strong enough and willing to pay? It's not all work in Women of the House - Think the Wedding of the Decade meets the Crime of the Century.
Jack Canon's Women of the House, is a story filled with Love, Lust, and Loyalty where passions can run wild! In Sandora's monumental sequel, patriotism and valor mingle with an undying love that refuses to quit. Ride along as Jack Canon fights back against the most evil people on the planet. Readers are sure to embrace this unforgettable tale which will appeal to fans of political adventure, suspense and romance alike. Jack Canon's Women of the House is a story of kindness, passion and courage that can't be separated.
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Genre - Romantic Thriller
Rating – PG-13
More details about the author
 Connect with Greg Sandora on Facebook & Twitter

Wednesday, February 26, 2014

Fool for Love by Merry Farmer @MerryFarmer20

Chapter Four

The Majestic rose up out of the water in its Liverpool dock with all the glory of its name.  Amelia held one hand to her hat and stared at its iron sides, its two dun-colored funnels and three tall masts.  The ship was a strange thing to her, a mixture of old and new, progress with hints of the past.  It had sails that could be unfurled in a pinch, but with its powerful new engines, the ship could cross the ocean in a week.

Seven days to a new world.  It was an exact description of everything her life had become.  It was every bit as daunting.

“What am I doing?” Amelia whispered, staring at the hopeful monstrosity in front of her.  It was one thing to accept an offer for a new life.  It was another thing entirely to go through with it.

She turned away from the ship, swallowing the nausea that had plagued her since she’d left her mother’s house.  This time it wasn’t morning sickness.  That was long past.  At the moment, the baby was the least of her worries.  Her stomach rolled over the idea that she was about to board a ship heading for a new life at the mercy of a stranger, a man, no less.  The last time she had trusted her life and her future to a man had been a disaster.

She paced, purse clutched to her chest, scanning the busy dock in search of her American savior.  Men, women, and children crowded the gangplanks, eager to start their journeys, excited and hopeful.  Many of the third-class passengers carried bundles that indicated theirs was a one-way trip as much as hers was.  Eric had left her there to go buy her ticket, but there was nothing stopping him from running off and leaving her stranded.  Like her father.  Like Nick.  She was a fool to agree to this.  She pivoted and marched away from the ship.

No, she stopped herself after a handful of steps, this was the best decision she could have made.  She may have felt small and lonely standing by herself, waiting, heart and stomach fluttering, but she was as much a part of the intrepid adventurers seeking a new life in America as any of her fellow passengers.  This was right.

Maybe.

“Well, we got a minor problem on our hands.”

The twang of Eric’s accent shocked Amelia from her worries.  She spun to face him as he approached her with wide strides, scratching his head and looking as guilty as a schoolboy.

“A problem?” she asked, voice fluttering.

“Yeah.  I went to buy you a ticket, but they’re plumb sold out.”

Amelia’s chest tightened and her tender stomach lurched.  “Oh.  Oh dear.  Well I suppose….”

She lowered her eyes, heart aquiver.  As quickly as it started, her chance for a new life was over.  All that worrying for nothing.

She squared her shoulders to face her fate.  “I … I thank you for your efforts on my behalf regardless, Mr. Quinlan.”

Eric’s brow crinkled into a curious frown.  “Regardless?”

“I suppose I could find work here in Liverpool,” she explained.  “Surely there must be a shop somewhere that would look the other way from….”  She lowered her hand to the mound of her stomach.

Eric’s lips twitched.  The morning sunlight caught in his eyes.  “I didn’t want to have to put you in third-class, so I told them you were my wife.”

Amelia blinked.  “You what?”

“I told them we’re newlyweds.  I reserved my stateroom in first class last year when I came over.  Good thing I paid for it then too, ‘cuz after this fiasco of a trip I’ll never ride first-class again.  Anyhow, when they said they didn’t have any more rooms, I told them you were my wife and that we would be staying in the same stateroom.  They sold me a ticket for that.”  He handed her a fresh, clean ticket with her name written as ‘Mrs. Amelia Quinlan’.  “Sorry.”

Amelia held perfectly still on the outside, but on the inside her heart pounded and her stomach rolled with guilt for questioning him.  He wasn’t abandoning her.  He had gone out of his way to help her.  Her heart squeezed as it never had before.  She took the ticket from him with a trembling hand, hardly noticing when her fingers brushed his.  She was rescued after all.

“Thank you, Mr. Quinlan.  You have no idea how much this kindness means to me.”  She had to concentrate on breathing, standing straight, and looking up into his handsome eyes with a smile to keep her tears at bay.

“You don’t mind sharing then?” he asked her.

FoolForLove

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Genre – Western Historical Romance

Rating – R

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Connect with Merry Farmer on Facebook & Twitter

Website http://merryfarmer.net

Tuesday, February 25, 2014

Bangkok Transit #Excerpt by Eva Fejos @fejoseva #amreading #women

‘Budapest, 1980
“I’ll be here to pick you up for dance class. You have English in the afternoon and rhythmic gymnastics in the evening, don’t forget,” said the woman with the teased, reddish-blond hair as she parted from the little girl; she was attractively dressed, though slightly provocative. “Then, afterwards, we’ll celebrate your Dad’s birthday. There’s a snack in your book bag,” she called.
The girl nodded, waved to her from the gate, and entered the three-story elementary school in the Óbuda district of Budapest. She had math first period. She hated mathematics; this semester they were learning sets and numeral systems, and she wouldn’t have understood a word of it if weren’t for Rose, her private teacher, who helped her with math assignments twice a week. She started yawning halfway through the period.
“Don’t fall asleep or she’ll pick on you again,” whispered Enikő, her deskmate, nudging her.
Enikő always dressed like a tomboy and had made it clear several times that she would have rather been born a boy.
Teri heeded the warning. She decided to prop her eyelids open with her fingers. Maybe that way she wouldn’t fall asleep.
Last night’s training had lasted longer than usual, and though she had changed back into her street clothes quickly, her mother had spent a long time discussing something with her coach. In the meantime, Teri sat on the bench waiting for them. She hadn’t gotten enough sleep because they’d stayed so long.
Next period was true horror: Russian class. Teri mostly hated this class because of the teacher. Otherwise, she had a good ear for languages and didn’t need extracurricular help with her homework.
“Zrastvuytye,” said the teacher, as she stepped into classroom 5B, and the kids chimed their greeting in unison:
“Ztrastvuytye, tovarish uchityelnitsa!”
Teri forgot to join in the greeting, and the teacher noticed immediately, turning to her jeeringly:
“Guten morgen, Fräulein Schmidt. I suppose German comes easier to you than Russian.”
Teri blushed. She was sick of Mrs. Piros constantly encouraging certain boys to taunt her by calling German shepherd, Heike, and Fräulein Schmidt. When she told her mother about what went on in school, she just waved it away dismissively and said:
“Just ignore them, honey. You can already speak German and soon you’ll be fluent in Russian and English too. Just think how jealous they’ll be when they see you on TV and in the papers!”
Teri had recently found an article in her mother’s favorite weekly magazine about the lives of female factory workers in Csepel. She’d read it and didn’t understand why her mother wanted someone to write such things about her. She didn’t want to be in the papers or on TV. All she wanted was for Mrs. Piros to leave her alone, along with the idiot boys led by Zoli Kiss, whose front tooth still hadn’t grown in, even though he’d lost all of his baby teeth last year.
“You should eat more. Your growth spurt has made you incredibly thin,” said her gym teacher, patting Teri’s head during recess. “And you’re pale. Are you getting enough rest?”
Teri didn’t answer. She looked at herself in the locker room mirror before gym class. Her mother had braided her flaxen-colored hair into a ponytail, and she saw dark circles under her blue eyes. She wasn’t hungry, but she thought that maybe her gym teacher was right. She took out her snack. It consisted of two crackers, a slice of ham, and thinly cut peppers. She ate a few bites, and then started changing. She liked gym class because she felt successful. She was always asked to demonstrate exercises which seemed too complex for the others.
That afternoon, before training, when her mother drove off in their yellow Wartburg car and Teri had finished waving her goodbye, the coach called the girl into her office.
“One day you will grow up to be a very beautiful girl. The boys will go nuts over you,” she began.
Teri looked at her, puzzled. Why was Mrs. Varga telling her this? The same Mrs. Varga whom the others called “Killer” behind her back.
“I’m sure you know that boys are especially keen on tall girls. You’ve got a pretty face: pouty lips, big, blue eyes, long lashes… And you’ll be tall. You’ve grown a lot over the past year. Did you notice how much taller you are than the others?” she said, gesturing towards the locker room.
Teri nodded. This was the second time in one day that someone had pointed out her height. She didn’t understand why. Her coach fell silent, arranged some training supplies on the shelf, and then continued:
“Well. You can excel in several branches of sports and in many things. You are among the best of your age group in rhythmic gymnastics. You won the Budapest Cup last year. But it won’t always be this way. You’re too tall, and this will hinder you from staying among the best,” the coach finally blurted out, without meeting the girl’s gaze. “I told the same thing to your mother, who asked me to give you time to prove yourself again. And I would gladly give you all the time in the world, but I don’t see the point in deluding you. You know too that you’re still growing, and in a few years you won’t be able to join the top ranks in rhythmic gymnastics anymore. The reason I’m telling you this is because I know you and your parents have your hearts set on you joining the national team, and I don’t want you to be disappointed. Right now, you’re free to choose another activity, like athletics, maybe high-jumping. Or ball sports. Anything. You’re only ten; you can still be part of the best. But not in rhythmic gymnastics. Or artistic gymnastics either. I find it pointless to torment you at training, or to see you suffering by constantly dieting and calorie-counting. Choose something else instead. Or take a little break,” she said, looking into the girl’s eyes now. “In a few years, you’ll be happy things turned out this way, happy to be a grown up, willowy girl not hurting so much from sports injuries.”
Teri dashed into the locker room. She didn’t know what to do; she struggled to hold back her tears. But a powerful feeling of responsibility triumphed. She changed into her leotard along with the others. That day, she performed better than ever during training.
The birthday celebration that evening didn’t go too well. Teri was tired and in a bad mood. After she helped her father blow out the candles on the cake, she burst into tears. Her father lifted her onto his lap.
“Let’s eat the cake together!” he said in German.
Teri turned her head away when her father jabbed the fork into a piece of cake and offered her the morsel.
“I told you not to force sweets on her. She has to maintain her weight.”
“But I’ll never be a champion!” the little girl exclaimed. “Coach said so. I grew too much.”
Her mother’s eyes flashed angrily.
“Just ignore what your coach says. You’re the best, and that’s how it always will be!”
“We can talk later, sweetheart, and you can tell me all about what’s making you sad,” her father said, hugging her. “But now you have to go to bed. You’ve got school tomorrow.”
BangkokTransit
Bangkok: a sizzling, all-embracing, exotic city where the past and the present intertwine. It’s a place where anything can happen… and anything really does happen. The paths of seven people cross in this metropolis. Seven seekers, for whom this city might be a final destination. Or perhaps it is only the start of a new journey? A successful businessman; a celebrated supermodel; a man who is forever the outsider; a young mother who suddenly loses everything; a talented surgeon, who could not give the woman he loved all that she desired; a brothel’s madam; and a charming young woman adopted at birth. Why these seven? Why did they come to Bangkok now, at the same time? Do chance encounters truly exist?
Bangkok Transit is a Central European best-seller. The author, Eva Fejos, a Hungarian writer and journalist, is a regular contributor to women’s magazines and is often herself a featured personality. Bangkok Transit was her first best-seller, which sold more than 100,000 copies and is still selling. Following the initial publication of this novel in 2008, she went on to write twelve other best-sellers, thus becoming a publishing phenomena in Hungary According to accounts given by her readers, the author’s books are “therapeutic journeys,” full of flesh and blood characters who never give up on their dreams. Many readers have been inspired to change the course of their own lives after reading her books. “Take your life into your own hands,” is one of the important messages the author wishes to convey.
Try it for yourself, and let Eva Fejos whisk you off on one of her whirlwind journeys... that might lead deep into your own heart.
evafejos_portrait
About Eva Fejos, the author of Bangkok Transit
- Eva Fejos is a Hungarian writer and journalist.
She:
- has had 13 best-selling novels published in Hungary so far.
- Bangkok Transit is her first best-seller, published in 2008.
- has won several awards as a journalist, and thanks to one of her articles, the legislation pertaining to human egg donation was modified, allowing couples in need to acquire donor eggs more easily.  
- spends her winters in Bangkok.
- likes novels that have several storylines running parallel.
- visited all the places she’s written about. 
- spent a few days at an elephant orphanage in Thailand; and has investigated the process of how Thai children are put up for adoption while visiting several orphanages. 
- founded her own publishing company in Hungary last year, where she not only publishes her own books, but foreign books too, hand-picked by her. 
- Her books published in Hungary thus far are:
Till Death Do Us Part (Holtodiglan) | Bangkok Transit | Hotel Bali | Chicks (Csajok) | Strawberries for Breakfast (Eper reggelire) | The Mexican (A mexikói) | Cuba Libre | Dalma | Hello, London | Christmas in New York (Karácsony New Yorkban) | Caribbean Summer (Karibi nyár) | Bangkok, I Love You (Szeretlek, Bangkok) | Starting Now – the new edition of Till Death Do Us Part (Most kezdődik) | Vacation in Naples – the English version will be published in summer, 2014 (Nápolyi vakáció)
To be published in spring of 2014: I Waited One Hundred Nights (Száz éjjel vártam)
Bangkok Transit (English version): http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00HDIT4UY
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Genre - Women's Fiction, Contemporary
Rating – PG-13
More details about the author
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