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Friday, 22 September 2017

A cover reveal, and a pre-order special offer

Greetings, humans

Claude the imaginary dragon here again, with some news about CJ Rutherford's new release.
Normally I wouldn't blow his trumpet, due to the risks of any praise causing his head to swell,
but now that I have invested in some industrial strength shock absorbers I think it should be safe.

So, first of all, let me share the cover, designed by the incredibly talented Christian Bentulan.


When the world ends on Halloween night, Jaz, a retired US Marine, thinks it’s all over. His friends, his family…they’re all gone. He’s alone and on the run.

He encounters Jennifer, a 19-year-old waitress hiding in her dad’s roadside diner, and together they begin a desperate dash to the desolation of North Dakota, as far away from the slaughterhouses of the cities as they can get.

Their imagined safety doesn’t last long, as Jaz and Jennifer realize the attack was just the first strike in a battle that has raged since the dawn of time.

The book is due for release on Halloween, but you can pre-order it now for the special pre-launch price of just $0.99 HERE.

Alternatively, you can sign up to receive an Advance Review Copy (ARC). You will receive a free copy of the ebook, and one lucky person will win a signed paperback. We will also be giving away ten copies of the audio version when it is available.
The link to the form is HERE.

Friday, 18 August 2017

So, do we all agree Trump is an idiot?


So, apparently twump is attacking any Republican who mentions him by name in a critical manner.
In another twist, Republicans have now decided to use 'code words' to identify twump, so as to not attract his ire. Unfortunately, twump's lawyers are way ahead of them and have demanded all social media sites hand over details of any user that mentions the following.
Trump is a prick.
Twump is a twonk.
45 is not the answer to the question of the life, the universe, and everything.
Trumplethinskin is...well, I'll let you think about this one.
That orange jerk in the White House.
Piss-stained orange snowflake...my personal favourite.
The list is long, and frankly, undistinguished, but twump's lawyers are confident that they can figure out a way to tell the Tangoman that he's won, while paying off anyone who actually grants him time of day to get annoyed.

Monday, 10 April 2017

My latest 5-star review for my FREE book!


"Fantasy in its pure form, I love it and can't wait to read more and I will be buying more works by Rutherford."Read the whole series for #FREE on #KindleUnlimited here


Tuesday, 14 March 2017

✫✫✯✯★★ 99 CENTS FOR A LIMITED TIME ★★✯✯✫✫

Hopeless

P. Rose

"What's a safe call?"

Hope Pendleton isn't ready for the answer. Her best friend, Callie, is into kink … serious kink; the kind that hurts. Hope is young and liberal, so she's cool with it … sort of. It's all just a game, right?

When Callie doesn't come home after a play date, the game gets real. Hope learns Callie's last known play partner is wanted for racketeering and human trafficking, and she faces a desperate dash against time to find her friend. She follows Callie's trail, moving blindly into a world of sexual fantasy and deviance, of chains and floggers, pain and pleasure.

The game becomes a nightmare, and before long, Hope's own life is on the line.

Can she survive to save her friend?

Or will she suffer the same fate?

Graphic and explicit sexual scenes, including BDSM. Not intended for anyone under the age of 18. All characters are over the age of 18.




 Excerpt:
This is not happening.
    This is not happening.
    This is not happening.
    I mouthed the words silently, my lips barely moving, one word for each step I took, one for each breath. The hallway was institutional, harshly lit and silent, except for the slight squeak of my sneakers and the solid, measured steps of the man beside me. He was wearing boots. Not cowboy boots…motorcycle boots, with harness straps. They were black, slightly creased, but shiny and clean. His gray dress slacks covered most of them, but I'd been looking down, staring at my own feet and his, as we walked down the long hallway.
    This is not happening.
    We were in the basement of the building, just like they show on television. The silence echoed around me, pressing in on me, threatening to take the air from my lungs. I glanced up once, to see how much further we had to go, and the fluorescent light fixture above me spun in my peripheral vision. I breathed in and out, and then again, concentrating on the simple act as if my life depended on it.
    This is not happening.
    We stopped in the middle of the hallway, in front of a long window, and he tapped lightly on the glass. I paid attention to my breathing, and I stared at my shoes, noticing the scuff of reddish mud on my left sneaker. I heard a noise on the other side of the glass, and my eyes shot up of their own accord. My heartbeat accelerated and my breathing quickened, the fluorescents hazy in my eyes from the sudden tears blurring my vision.
    I was relieved we weren't going inside the room…ashamed of my sense of relief, but relieved anyway. There was a gurney on the other side of the window, close enough I could have reached through the glass and touched the motionless form of the woman under the green hospital sheet. I felt myself shaking violently, and the bile in my stomach soured, threatening to rise. I felt the man waiting for me, and I didn’t know why. Finally, I nodded once, sharply, lying to tell him I was ready.
    Inside the room, the morgue attendant in surgical scrubs carefully folded the sheet down off the woman's face, uncovering her to below her neck. His movements were precise but respectful, and he smoothed the sheet neatly before stepping away from her. She was beautiful…or she had been. She had short, curly red hair, smooth features, full, bloodless blue lips…and she was so very pale.
    I didn't realize I was holding my breath. I heard the man's voice from far away, gentle, but insistent. "Miss Pendleton? Is this your friend?"
    The tears spilled over, and the window swam in front of me. My knees turned to gelatin, and the man with the gray suit and the motorcycle boots caught me, as the institutional tile floor suddenly came up to meet my face.








 
About the Author:
Patricia Rose was born a bookworm and has never outgrown it. Her love of stories started with The Bobbsey Twins when she was five and continues today with the best offerings of science fiction, urban fantasy, and paranormal romance. An avid animal lover, she shares her home with her husband, Kevin, the wife of her heart, Ellen, three dogs, four cats, and a tarantula. 
Technophobic to a fault, Patricia relies heavily on her friends in the Indie writing community to help her with anything more complex than Microsoft Word, this despite her husband's urgings to put down the stone knives and chisels and join the digital age! Patricia's first novel, Iron Mike, is a dystopian science fiction tale and is available on all Amazon forums. Both Hopeless and Iron Mike are available as audiobooks through www.audible.com.

FB page: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorPatriciaRose/ 

Twitter: https://twitter.com/patricia731rose