Cover reveal for Midnight – book 2 in the No Death for the Wicked series

Midnight cover final one

Midnight book 2

Synopsis

I have what I came for, the serum they call Daylight, and him. Graham is a dangerously seductive Grim Reaper who shadows my every move. I wouldn’t say that’s a bad thing, necessarily. Now, a clan of unforgiving elite vampires hunting me down by night, that’s a downer.

Why? Why would another vampire, especially the ‘Elites’, care if I walk the streets by day? It’s because I have something they want.

The Voynich manuscript, a book you wouldn’t believe is real unless you’ve seen it with your own eyes. Bound in the skin of an unnamed animal, this legendary book contains the history and knowledge of all vampires that walk this earth, and I have it.

They hunt the nights searching for me. I walk in the light of day trying to keep one step ahead of them, but what happens when my Reaper’s last grains of sand run out, forcing him to return to the underworld?

What will win? Love or revenge?

Join Mattie in this unique vampire love story with a gritty Gothic twist as we find out how far she will go to keep what she has.
 Release date to be announced. 

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Another tale from the Deadwood town…

Mary Jane part two of the house pic

Copyright © 2015 Karli Rush

If you haven’t had the chance to read The House  then, here’s your chance… book 1 is free this weekend only!  Amazon link

Deadwood Diner –  part 1 

Words have no power to impress the mind

Without the exquisite horror of their reality.

 

– Edgar Allen Poe

I step off the Greyhound bus and the moment my black military issued boots hit the ground, I breathe in the late autumn air. I roll my stiff shoulders back and rub out the cramped soreness from my aching neck, fifteen months in Iraq and I’m finally just an hour and a half away from home. Back, from my extensive journey, my latest military stint and it’s almost hard to believe. It’s too good to be true that I can actually feel the good ol’ country like I did back when I was younger, before I enlisted and now, I need this break. I’ve dedicated everything to my one ambitious goal, and raised my rank to Sergeant first class with ten years of hard ballbusting work. Deployed more times than I can even count and now, it’s time to relax.

Joining the Army was something I’d set my ever-lovin’ sights on since I was a boy. My grandfather and my father were both die-hard U.S. Army soldiers, and they both strictly ingrained in me ‘Be All You Can Be’ from day one. Living in a town like Waynesville, there’s not a whole lot of options, for anyone really, nearest college is, here, in Deadwood. Random managed gas stations and remodeled churches sprout up more or less on every block. I never saw myself growin’ up to be someone wiping windshields and pumping gas as a lifelong career, and I certainly never thought I’d walk a saintly path to wear the fine untarnished shoes of a preacher. At one point in my high school years I had thought long and hard about going to college here, like so many others, but like I said, to serve my country was deep-seated in me, in my soul well before I could even utter the words ‘Affirmative’.

I swing my Army green duffel bag over my right shoulder and take in the old timey diner. A few cars scatter here and there along the dimly lit parking lot. A bright neon green sign hangs bravely and boldly outside –Open— inviting anyone and everyone inside. I’m expecting a buddy of mine to meet me here tonight. I’ll hitch a ride with him to Waynesville. Funny how a hometown can give you the comforts of family, friends, and familiarity. But, in this small town there is no familiarity, it’s always felt like that song by the Eagles, ‘You can check out any time you like—but, you can never leave…’  My eyes graze over the red faded pickup and unfamiliar cars I realize my buddy is not here. Not yet, anyway.

Traveling down here on the back of the bus, I watched and took note of the town signs that would pass by, reading the population stats on each one. But this town, Deadwood, didn’t have a population status. I glance around and straighten the cap on my head debating. I sure could use a bite to eat, maybe, just maybe, the food here doesn’t taste anything like Army grub. I find myself striding quickly toward the diner, my stomach grumbling, knowing soon, it’s fixin to sample some good ol’ home-cooking. A homey robust smell of deep-fried foods and handmade pies breathes about as I near the doors. Above the brilliant neon green sign flickers eerily the name of the diner. The words Ma and Pa’s looks burnt out and shadowed by the rustic metal overhang. Almost like someone wanted to hide it.

An elderly man carrying a red and white checkered take-out bag hums by me, he throws a wordless nod my way and I return the gesture. I hold the door making sure no one else is accompanying him. His demeanor has me at ease with the place, light on his feet and grinning like he’s carrying the next winning lottery ticket. Makes me want to tell the waitress ‘I’ll have whatever he’s having’ and motion toward him. I take a seat at a vintage styled barstool.

“What will it be, sugar?” the waitress asks shoving a pair of black horned rimmed glasses along the bridge of her narrow nose. She matches the theme of the diner with her pinned up hairdo and old-school bold red lips.

“I’ll take a cup of coffee, ma’am,” I reply receiving the one page menu from her.

“Comin’ right up,” she spouts with a flirty smile and spins off in the other direction. The rise of lively chatter hovers in the midst of the late-night patrons, it isn’t bothersome, a laugh or a turn from a newspaper now and again. The sun has been down for hours now, and I get the feeling that most of these people in here are regulars. A weighty middle-aged man sits at the far end of the counter his judging eyes meet mine, he shifts his view to his plate like I would walk over and abduct his nightly addiction. I drift my own eyes easily away when I hear the jukebox on the other side start to play.

“You like Creedence Clearwater Revival?” a man, in a pair of dingy overalls sitting beside me asks. He scratches at the graying whiskers camouflaging his thin mouth, the fork drops from his hand as he pushes his empty plate away.

“I’ve heard a few of their songs,” I reply mildly, withholding my own childhood memories for my dad’s love of CCR. Listening to their songs repetitively one learns a few songs by heart naturally. But one song I knew to leave him alone was ‘Bridge Over Trouble Water’ by Simon and Garfunkel, never knew what stirred the multitude of emotions in him whenever that particular song played because he wasn’t the type of man to show emotions. I drift off to the memory peering around the corner of the crinkly wallpapered dining room, a bottle of booze sitting on the table as the vinyl seventy-eight record spins on the turntable. Being so young at the time I had no grasp on the lyrics, what they meant, why he listened to it, or what meaning behind it had held for him. I snap out of my past and glance over to the guy in the overalls as he taps the counter with his calloused large hands.

“This song here…” He thumbs toward the old jukebox and says, “…was her song, my wife’s name was Mary Lou. She could cook the best daggum pecan pies, I swear!” He slaps the palm of his hand down and grins the biggest grin.

“It’s a good one,” I respond, watching amused with the look on his aging face. His bushy eyebrows scrunch together as his grin gets even bigger. He reminds me of the actor John Goodman, just older. And I catch the reference in tenses when he spoke of his wife. I don’t ask, it’s none of my business but it tells me why he’s here, eating at a late night diner, alone.

“So… what’s the special?” I ask pointing at the substandard budget menu. The perky waitress flips the coffee cup around and sits it upright on the tiny saucer and begins to pour my coffee.

“All of it’s good,” the man in overalls sitting next to me offers. He quirks his head to the side and adds, “Maybe not my Mary Lou’s but it’s worth its while.”

“All right then, I’ll have the cheeseburger, fries and a glass of ice water too.”

“You want the fixin’s?” the waitress quizzes while she jots down my order.

“Yeah.”

“You better save some room for our house special, Lemon meringue pie, ya hear?”

“Yes, ma’am.” I hand her the tissue thin menu back and pick up my coffee cup. Testing it before I take a sip. It’s not scalding hot, but it’s damn sure strong. I cough a little, tryin’ to soothe the harsh stale taste down. I edge the coffee back to its saucer as she struts toward the kitchen area hollering out my order.

“Walk a cow through the garden, on a rail, and one on the city.” She clamps her ticket on the order wheel and winks back at me. And then she busies herself setting up another table across from us on the side of the counter.

“So, you home on leave or somethin’?” the man asks and drags his fingers around the wiry whiskers along his beardy mouth. He pulls his large sizeable hand out from underneath his other stout arm and extends it toward me. “Name’s Raymond Thomson, but everyone around here calls me, Ray.”

I grip his hand firmly with my right hand and find myself surprised when I realize his grip isn’t like steel. It’s a considerate handshake, not tryin’ to prove anything.

“Nice to meet you, Ray. I’m Jason Knight,” I give him a small salute and add, “I guess you could say I’m between duty stations right now.”

A noticeable twinkle in his mousy eyes shimmer like a new dawn’s day as he says, “How long you been in the Army?”

“I joined as soon as I graduated high school, so… it’s been about ten years. You know what they say, stick with what you love doing,” I explain as the gum-smackin’ waitress plops my plate of food in front of me.

“You needing anything else, sugar?”

I scratch the side of my temple and glance over the palatable food and shake my head. “No, ma’am, I think that’s it.” I peer up and inadvertently meet hers. They’re soft, but kinda drained like she’s had a few hard years workin’ over-time. With her out-of-date specs it conceals somewhat the heavy lines underneath her whiskey colored eyes. Matter of fact, no one in this diner looks inexperienced in life by any means.

“You have family here or close by?” Ray wrangles out as he fumbles with some change in the center of his oversize palm.

“I do, some cousins and an aunt up in Waynesville. I grew up there, so, it’s still home to me,” I remark adding a shake of salt to the home fries and dump a hefty glob of Heinz ketchup on them. He slides a dull simple quarter across the space between us and nods toward the silent jukebox.

“On me, it’s my small way of sayin’ thanks for you putting your life out there for the sake of our beautiful country.” He pats my upper arm like a gentle giant and the second I move my perplexed gaze from the coin, he shoves it inside my hand. Urging me to accept his offer. I hop off the barstool without a fuss and leave my plate, my stomach complaining with each boot pounding step. I reach the marbelized plastic jukebox and stand, reading the list of songs. I stare back over my shoulder strangely, he wasn’t kidding about likin’ CCR because there wasn’t one song listed that wasn’t sung by Creedence. I shrug and slip the quarter in and press the button for ‘Bad Moon Rising’.

I’m not sure why I picked it, I liked it well enough, and it was listed at the top. I guess I just wanted to appease the man so I could hurry the hell up and eat. He taps his brown clad foot in time with the beat and grins approvingly. The song only lasts for a couple of minutes and then two more songs roll out, two that I didn’t pick. ‘Run through the Jungle’ belts out right after ‘Hello Mary Lou’, I keep my eyes downward and focus on my burger.

“I bet you’ve seen your fair share of…” Ray starts to grumble out but his prying words drop away as soon as a young woman stumbles inside the diner.

To be continued…

The end is near…

David's bike

David’s motorcycle

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Soon, very soon, I will publish my last book in the series. The Crescent Bound series, and with the amazing, incredible talent from Inkstain Interior Book Designing we shall have it (hopefully) in our hands this Halloween.  Which book you may ask? Ice Bound, the inside look from Marc’s point of view of Crescent Bound. Long awaited answers will be revealed, a new depth to Marc that some may not have known about, and where they all end up after seven years. This story was extremely difficult for me to write. During my writing process our oldest son had some major health  concerns.  We tackled the worst of the storms and I hope  everyone can understand my reasons for delaying the release of Ice Bound.

Now, for some insight into this particular story…

Naomi

Naomi

 

Naomi – the rogue witch will be part of the story but not as prominent  as she was in Crescent Bound. My intention wasn’t to fully duplicate Crescent Bound, and to truly bring you Marc’s story. Besides you’ve already read Crescent Bound and it unravels everything in it. Yes, there will be magick, the elements, and entirely new scenes in Ice Bound.

David

David

 

Marc

Marc

 

 

 

Alyssa Worthington

Alyssa

 

Ready to follow Marc and Alyssa into their witchy magical world one more time?

Cover Reveal of Better Nature by Elizabeth Sharp

Welcome to 2013!  Today I have the pleasure of helping a fellow author reveal her latest work, Forces of Nature series – Book 3 called Better Nature!  The book cover looks Fantastic!

The Blurb –  Everything in Amelia Hoffman’s life has led to this. An evil plot threatens to destroy humanity and the future of the human race lies in Amelia’s hands. Working through the tensions between Otherworld species, torn between two men and squabbling with her siblings—all while trying to get a college degree. The pressure is a killer—literally. Does she have what it takes to save the world?

Click the book cover to learn more about Elizabeth and the release date of this highly anticipated new novel!

by Elizabeth Sharp

by Elizabeth Sharp

Special Feature – Character Interview with Sloan! From “Dying To Forget” by: Trish Marie Dawson

From the book "Dying to Forget"

Alex Pettyfer – inspiration for Sloan Nash from      “Dying To Forget”

Hey Everyone,

I am Lucky, your host here at Rush Bound Blog, and today we are on Special Assignment.  Right now, I am standing outside of Steam Coffee Shop on  Irving Street, which is very busy, even for San Francisco.  The reason I am in the city by the bay is the emergence of a new author, Trish Marie Dawson.   A bit more about her a little later, but right now I am here to speak with Sloan, one of the unforgettable characters from the book, ‘Dying To Forget’.

Hey, want to hear something interesting?  I am inside Steam waiting in a long line, and guess who is standing in front of me?  Two girls wearing the renowned Starbucks aprons.  Kinda ironic to see Starbucks girls waiting in line with me here.  I gotta know.  (Tapping the blonde on the shoulder)

Lucky – “Hi girls, I have to ask, and I’ll keep it a secret, but why would you come over here for coffee, is Steam that good?”

Cute Blonde –  “Well, um, we like the server, um… I mean the service here, right?” (smiling at her friend)

Cuter Brunette –  “Yeah, it is definitely the service!” (Looking toward the counter)

Lucky – “You know what service these ladies and dozens of others are here for?  Yep, you guessed it.  They are here to be waited on by none other than Sloan Nash.  Let me see if I can get in here and have Sloan sit down with me for a little one-on-one.”

Sloan – “Hey, what can I get you?”

Lucky – “Yes, I’ll have a tall half-skinny half-1 percent extra hot split quad shot, that’s two shots decaf, two shots regular latte with whip.”

Sloan – “A what?”

Lucky – “I’m kidding man, I’m Lucky, remember the interview thing for the book?”

Sloan – “Oh, Yeah, I’m going on break, hold on.”

Grabbing a seat in the corner of the busy shop, Sloan slides easily into his seat and Lucky pulls out a digital recorder.

Lucky – “Alright, well let’s start out with something easy.  Why work in a coffee shop? And do you drink coffee?”

Sloan – “I only work here because a girl got me the job. Guess I didn’t have anywhere better to go, so I stayed here. And nope, don’t drink coffee.”

Lucky – “A girl huh, I see a lot of girls or should I say all the “Sloan” fans around here, how do you like all the attention from the opposite sex?”

Sloan – “I don’t. Women are like vultures, man. Plus, after awhile, they all sort of seem the same.”

Lucky – “Well then, how about outside of work, what are your interests?”

Sloan –  “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a hobby. The closest thing I have to one now is my bike. And watching reality t.v. I love that crazy restaurant guy…the one that yells?”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gd6fSArfKMs *Chef Ramsay clip*

Lucky – “Yeah, that guy is off the clock, man.  Alright, t.v. at home, bike to work, tired of the vultures, how about this?  If you could snap your fingers and wind up any place on the planet, where would it be and why?”

Sloan – “Any place? Ahh. This is easy, since I think of this a lot.  Ireland.  Some of my ancestors are from there and I really want to go some time, you know, just to check it out. I’m not sure I ever will though, because let’s face it, who goes to Ireland and doesn’t want to stay there?”

Lucky – “Hey, I think that is very cool.  I love those women with the Irish accent.  Man, I don’t care what they say as long as they keep talking.”

Lucky – “Okay, changing pace a bit.  I know the perfect person for you to talk to on this Ireland thing.  She has the power to get you there.  You were created by a great author, Trish Dawson.  How do you two get along, and what is your favorite thing about her?”

Sloan – “Not sure I can answer this honestly without serious future repercussions, (laughing) but I can say this. The woman has a warped mind! I mean, look at the childhood she gave me. What’s up with that? And, come on now…she could have made me just a little bit taller. That’s all I’m going to say about that.  She still holds the power, you know.”

Sloan – “I should add that she’s cute. And she has a sense of humor. And I like that in a woman.”

Lucky – “I know the feeling, believe me.  Hey, how about this? If you were a billionaire what would be the first three things you would spend your money on and why?”

Sloan – “Oh crap! I’d buy an island to live on because sometimes I hate people.  I mean, really hate them. There are so many idiots in the world and it seems I’ve met too many of them. Then I guess all I would need money for then would be food, beer and women. Maybe not in that order.”

Lucky – “Dude, I know this place off the coast of Australia, the waves are killer, you and I need to talk.  Alright, so I have to ask, trying to get inside that toughness, now seriously, what is the most important thing to you?”

Sloan – “The most important thing? It used to be family. But I lost my family years ago. I guess that’s why I’m broken now. Sometimes there’s no point. I mean, you can’t go through life alone. Not forever. But maybe one day, maybe one day I’ll meet someone that’s right for me. Until then, well, it’s just me. We’ll see how long I can stand myself. (laughter)”

Lucky – “Sloan, I see your break is up, gotta run myself before these vultures swoop down and eat us both, it was real, man.  Keep being real and I look forward to hearing about you in the future.”

“Thanks all, for joining me on Special Assignment – Click the book below so you can get your copy and find out what all the buzz is about.”

“Hey Sloan, I never did get my tall half-skinny half-1 percent extra hot split quad shot latte with whip…”

A little about the Author, Trish Marie Dawson.  Trish was born and mostly raised in San Diego, California where she lives now with her family and pets. She’s been writing short stories and poetry since high school after an obsession with Stephen King’s ‘The Stand’. After over fifteen years of crazy dreams and an overactive imagination, Trish began her first book ‘I Hope You Find Me’ in December of 2011.  “Dying to Forget” is her second novel.

Sloan’s favorite song- Foster the People – Pumped up Kicks

*All of the above dialogue of Sloan was provided by the author, Trish Marie Dawson* 9/3/12