Tuesday, 29 October 2013

The Running Game - Coming Soon

The Running Game is nearly done and I am very excited about this story. I am working on the final, final, final draft and now I'm looking for some reviewers who want a sneak peak at the story before it goes live and who like writing reviews.

If you want a free copy of The Running Game email me at lefitzpatrick@hotmail.co.uk and tell me your preferred format (EPUB, PDF, MOBI, WORD).

Here's the blurb...

Her father called it the running game. Count the exits, calculate the routes. Always be ready to run because they'll always be coming for you. Whatever happens, they'll always be coming for you.

Rachel had let her guard down and they had found her. She could run now, leave the city and try her luck beyond the borders, but with no money and a dark secret to hide her chances of survival are slim.

But then she meets two brothers with a dangerous past and secrets of their own. Can they help her turn the game around?

This is the first instalment of the Reacher series. Set in a grim and not too distant future, this urban thriller will keep you hooked until the last page. 

What you want more!... Okay, okay - try a spoiler free sample....

The Running Game (Extract - L E Fitzpatrick)

Jackie Walters and Mickey Walters, no relation, sat in a white pickup at the entrance to Tower 8. There was rope in the back of the car and both men were armed. This was a new job for Mickey and he was nervous. The gun reminded him of his time in the service, before the disciplinary. He didn’t want to mess up his first job, he was young and needed the money, but he also needed something to take his mind off what happened out in the Middle East; what he saw, what he did. Taking his cue off his partner for the night he tried to relax with a few nips of vodka to steady his nerves. Slowly it was working.
Jackie was an old hand. He’d been doing Pinky Morris’ dirty work for so long his hands were black. In the good old days, when Frank Morris was running the show and Jackie’s knees were still good, he was considered as dangerous as his boss, but those times were long over. He was well past his prime and, if he was honest, he was waiting for the Morrises to cut him loose.
“Car?” Mickey guessed.
“Nope.” Jackie shifted in his seat. He had needed a piss for nearly an hour and his bladder was about to betray him.
“Hey Jackie, who’s Donnie Boom?”
“Why you asking?”
“I heard a couple of the lads saying the heard he was back in town. They weren’t too happy about it.”
“Well they wouldn’t be. Donnie Boom set the bomb that killed Frank Morris.”
“Pinky’s brother?”
Jackie didn’t dignify that with an answer.
“So are we going to take this Boom guy out then?”
“Jesus Christ, who do you think you are Mafioso? We’re not taking anyone out.”
Mickey gulped. “Did you know him?”
“Yeah I knew him, mad son of a bitch. Worked with him too, though I’d prefer working with a pack of rabid dogs. Still the guy, crazy as he was, was as loyal to Frank Morris as any lapdog.”
“So why did he kill him?”
“The question is why, after setting the bomb, did Donnie Boom run back into the building and blow half his head off? And that is a question the likes of you and me don’t try and answer if we know what is good for us.”
Mickey sighed. He glanced up at the tower. There were a number of lights flickering into life; families settling in for another night in their cramped homes. He watched the nearest window as a man went to his fridge. Mickey clicked his fingers excitedly.
“Kitchen begins with a 'K' you dumb bastard. I need to water the flowers, stay here and keep your eyes peeled.”
“What if she comes back?”

“Just watch her. Don’t move from this spot until I get back.” Jackie opened the door. It was getting colder in the city. The bite to the air painfully struck his cheeks as he wandered away from the towers, towards the small canal running alongside the apartment blocks. A pedestrian bridge crossed the river, illuminated by a weak solar lamp. It gave just enough light for him to find his way and not fall on his ass in a puddle of shitty water.

The Running Game - Coming Soon

Are you an author and fancy a spot in the Limelight? Email me your extracts/samples to lefitzpatrick@hotmail.co.uk for some free advertising.

Sunday, 20 October 2013

Evelyn - Sarah Carter

I'm very excited, last month I proofread this next story and so it's great to finally see it published. Evelyn by Sarah Carter is a YA Fantasy which will appeal to both younger and older readers. This isn't a typical vampire/werewolf story, but instead is packed with some really original ideas and very feisty characters.

Evelyn (Extract) - Sarah Carter

All sentient thought vanished, swept from my mind by a series of overwhelming sensations. The feel of my claws in the man’s shoulders, scraping against the bone. His warm throat between my jaws. The resistance of his skin giving beneath my teeth. A sudden hot, salty, metallic spray of blood in my mouth. The crunching of cartilage. My teeth closing together. The thud as the man’s corpse hit the ground. A strong urge to swallow the lump of human flesh now in my mouth.

The red fog of rage and bloodlust faded from my mind, pushed slowly back by sanity. I hurriedly spat out the chunk I’d ripped from the man’s throat, took a deep, shaky breath and wiped a hand across my mouth. It came away smeared with blood. There were drops of blood on my clothes as well. I looked down at the corpse at my feet. Beneath the man’s frozen expression of terror there was a bloody mess where his throat had been.

I went to pick up my phone from where I’d dropped it. Jermaine had ended the call. He was on his way here, I could sense it. There were two others with him, too. I had to move fast and burn the body. If I didn’t then my relatives would eat it and that…didn’t sit quite right with me.

I picked up the body with ease and carried it onto a small grassy square by the road that was surrounded by bushes. I pulled a box of matches and a lighter out of my bag. The lighter I shattered, spilling what little fuel there was inside over the body. Then I knelt by the body, struck a match, and carefully set the flame against several different parts of his clothing.

The flames seemed to take ages to spread and I began to worry that my family would get there before the body started to burn properly. They’ll be here any minute. I picked up a few dead twigs and dry leaves, and threw them onto the body, hoping to speed up the process. The dead man’s eyes caught mine as I threw a clump of leaves on him. Grimacing, I reached down to close his eyelids, then I turned my back on the burning corpse. Watching bodies burn is just as disgusting as watching them being eaten by your family.
My family members were close, practically on top of me. I could feel my muscles tensing up.

“I can smell smoke,” said a female voice nearby and a growl escaped my lips. Clara! Why does she always have to come? “She’s burning someone again,” whined the voice. “Just wait until I tell Dad. He told her to stop burning them.”

A large figure appeared in the gap between the bushes. Jermaine stopped when he saw me, looked me over for any sign of injury and then sighed with relief. A boy appeared on his left—Caleb, a cousin of ours—and a woman—Clara, my half sister—appeared on his right. Caleb grinned at me, but Clara just glared.

“You’re fine,” said Jermaine with relief, stepping closer to place a hand on my arm.

“Of course she is,” said Caleb, rolling his eyes. “She’s always fine. Eve can handle herself.”

Jermaine held up his cell with a reproachful look. “You should have called me back. I was worried. You’re not usually taken by surprise like that, after all.”

“We half humans aren’t as feeble as you think,” Caleb told him.

Clara made a despairing noise as she shoved past the two guys and strode up to the burning corpse. She had a large bottle of water in one hand, which she opened and started pouring over the corpse. I hissed at her, but she ignored me.

“Hey, I think we might be able to salvage some meat!” she said once the flames had been extinguished.

I moved to the other side of the corpse, lifted one foot, then brought it down hard, kicking a load of dirt and small pebbles over the body. Clara let out an indignant shriek.

“You’ve ruined it!” she cried, lunging at me.

Jermaine’s arm swept out, catching Clara around the waist before she could reach me. He pulled her back a few steps, then shoved her toward Caleb, who grabbed one of her arms.

“That wasn’t very nice.” Jermaine shook his head at me. “We have to eat, Evelyn.”

“Then have a salad.” I turned and stalked out of the little grassy square, back onto the street.

I hadn’t gone far before Caleb appeared by my side. “Would you rather we starve to death?” he asked, pretending to look hurt by the thought.

“I’d rather some of you starved to death, yes.”

“Like Clara?”

I nodded.

“You know, if she does tell your dad…he won’t ask nicely twice. He’ll be furious with you.”

An image flashed through my mind—my mother as I had last seen her, screaming and terrified as a hulking monster fell on her. The hulking monster who also happened to be my father.

Read more here: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00FY8U5J4

This week I'm concentrating hard on getting my latest book The Running Game published but if you want a spot on the Limelight please do email me and I'll get your post up as soon as I can... lefitzpatrick@hotmail.co.uk

Saturday, 12 October 2013

Dark Fate Falling - Kate de Jesus

As a fantasy author I love showcasing other work from similar authors, but this next author in particular really caught my eye. Kate de Jesus wrote her YA Fantasy with her son (my son and I can barely co-write a shopping list without coming to blows!!). Here's one of the author's favorite extracts and you can get this book on Kindle or paperback at the links at the bottom of the page.

Dark Fate Falling (Extract) - Kate de Jesus

As Nick bobbed in the water wheezing and sputtering, he became aware of two things simultaneously: one, the eye had passed and the full ferocity of the storm was now hammering down with wind, rain and cracks of blistering lightning; and two, the large, serpentine tail of an enormous sea creature was silently sliding under the surface not a dozen feet in front of them.

With all that they had been through, some small part of Nick’s mind found it amazing that he could still be startled and terrified about what was happening to them, and yet that was exactly how he felt when he saw the three heaving humps of the monsters tale disappear underwater. His mind’s eye spit out images of the famed Loch Ness Monster he’d seen in pictures and his stomached clenched. He spun around, trying to orient himself, and realized he had surfaced facing back toward the shore, and that the creature was between him and the main island.

A wave smashed into them and for a moment Nick thought the creature had grabbed him and forced him back under the water. He surfaced again and realized what had happened, then started to kick and paddle through the water in the direction of Site 1, hoping and praying he was going the right way. He used his arms to stroke through the waves as best he could, ready to use the knife grasped in his right hand if the sea creature materialized again. The thought of the beast approaching silently from behind was almost like a physical presence pressing against him, and he dreaded the feel of its teeth with every stroke. With the larger waves and the pounding rain, it was hard to see where he was going and he only caught occasional glimpses of the island when he crested a wave.

Then Owen was shrieking and kicking, and Nick knew the creature had clamped on to his legs and was tearing him in half. With a shock, he realized Owen screamed of impending doom, not doom itself.

“It’s coming! It’s right behind us Nick! Iiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”

Before he could turn and try to defend them with the knife, something slammed into his chest, knocking the tiny amount of air in his lungs out. Nick tried to scream himself, but his open mouth filled with water and only a sputtering snarl came out. He waited for the teeth that would tear his lower body off…

Read more: http://www.amazon.com/Dark-Falling-Gateway-Discoveries-ebook/dp/B00CP6VNYE/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1381588006&sr=1-1&keywords=dark+fate+falling

So do you want to be in the Limelight - maybe you have a talented member of your family you want to showcase - send me your extracts, blurbs and links and I'll put you up!! lefitzpatrick@hotmail.co.uk

Wednesday, 9 October 2013

Leap of Faith - Matthew Munson

Today I am showcasing another fantasy author - Matthew Munson and his second book Leap of Faith, available in paperback and kindle....

Leap of Faith (Extract) - Matthew Munson

 The fallen angel slept ... 
    It was a deep and enforced sleep. He remained in that state for 2,000 years – except recently, when he had awoken for a few short, glorious hours. But after his task had been done, he had consented to return to his sleep so that his human host could live out his normal life on Earth. 
    He was a powerful angel, eldest son of the Almighty himself, and leader of angels, and he was willing to wait his turn. By remaining alive, he would have killed his host – and he would not allow that to happen. It had taken him a long time, but he had learnt the value of another’s life. 
    In his sleep, he dreamt of another time, when he was younger, angrier ... a time when he had made mistakes. 
    Lucifer slept – inside the head of a human called Paul Finn, who relied on the angel’s continued submission for his own existence. 

    The cosmos unfolded before her as she woke, starlight stretching out in front of her like endless fields. As her consciousness returned from its long sleep, she rejoiced in the knowledge that she was once again free. 
    How long has it been? 
    She had been imprisoned now for … how long had it been? I don’t know, she realised. She lost focus for a moment, terror biting at the edge of her consciousness; doing her best to control it, she spun round and studied the stars. 
    They’re all wrong! she realised. I’ve been asleep for so long that all the stars have shifted position! 
    Her consciousness felt … fuzzy round the edge from waking up. The sleep had been forced upon her by her imprisoners, and she resented it. Whilst she rejoiced at being awake again, she hated the thought that she had missed so much activity. 
    I used to know everything, she thought, and now I know nothing. 
   She hesitated; whilst she wasn’t one for introspection, she did pause in thought for a moment now. 
    I remember something, she thought. 
    As a thought came to her, an emotion came along with it; anger. She felt it raging though her as she remembered. 
    I remember what the angels did to me. 
    If she had been human, her face would have clearly shown her frustration and anger clearly, but she wasn’t human - nor was she angelic. She was something else, and glad of it; she couldn’t bear the thought of being trapped in a limited and pathetic physical body. She was a spirit, and she had been imprisoned and humiliated by angels for far too long. 
    She could the rage inside of her, threatening to overwhelm her thoughts with its desire for revenge and hatred for everything that wasn’t a spirit. 
    I will have my revenge, Poena told herself, but on my own terms. I will not let the rage win; I’m back, and I will defeat the angels before they know what’s happening. 

    The cosmos was vast; it was vast on a scale that would be mind-blowing to humanity if it could be properly described. Angels and spirits could appreciate the awesomeness of the cosmos, and always looked on in pity to those who couldn’t. 
    With their telescopes and satellites, humans could see into the interstellar realm further than they had been able to even fifty years before, but, they could only see the merest fraction of what was truly there – and understood the most slender proportion of that knowledge. 
   Maybe one day, they’ll understand, Poena thought. Perhaps they will be able to see the world as I see it … but I doubt it. They’re not capable of opening their minds. 
    It was as a result of these advances that Poena existed. She had been protector of the astral plane until her imprisonment of sleep; now she had awoken again, brought out of her slumber by an awareness – however unconscious – of changes to the realm she had been charged to protect. 
    The changes were human in origin; they were trying to breach the supposedly unbreachable barrier between the physical and astral planes 
    And that’s meant to be impossible. 
    However, as much as she wished it wasn’t the case, some humans were clearly getting better at trying to breach the barrier – and that was what had first awoken her. There was a group in a small corner of Earth called The Seekers of Truth, and they were good at what they did. 
    Poena had always protected the astral plane from incursions, and was more determined now than ever before that she would continue to do so. She had been imprisoned by those she had failed to keep out once before; I won’t allow that to happen again. 
    She had to concede that The Seekers of Truth were clearly good; they were learning how to separate mind from body and explore the other realms. Spurred on by so many reports of strange paranormal activity, they had pooled their resources and begun exploring out there. 
    What the Seekers didn’t realise was that whenever they attempted to travel into these other realms, they disturbed the spirits who lived there. While no-one had yet managed to fully infiltrate their realm, the fact that human beings were getting closer concerned and frightened them. Spirits were protective of their realm, and they were angry that humans were trying to invade the one place that was theirs. 
    Poena had heard their anger and jealousy – and fed off it. She had awoken to their cries of anger and rage, and she felt suffused with it, and nourished by it. 
    They will listen to me now, she thought. The spirits, they need me now … and I need them. I need them to help take my revenge on those who betrayed me. 

Are you a writer and want a spot in the Limelight? If so email me your extract at lefitzpatrick@hotmail.co.uk

Sunday, 6 October 2013

The Monsters of St Osyth - Satinder Bhatti

As a fantasy writer it's always great to showcase other fantasy authors and tonight I have the blurb from YA fantasy novel The Monsters of St Osyth by Satinder Bhatti. Enjoy.

The Monsters of St Osyth - Satinder Bhatti

Sixteen year old Freya is prone to the odd premonition, but has spent her entire life denying it for fear of being labelled a freak. When she moves to the village of St Osyth, a place haunted by stories of magic and witchcraft, it becomes harder than ever to suppress her gift. Especially once she bonds with the village witch. 

But Freya’s journey really begins when she meets the mysterious Hudvek family and falls in love with their son, Raven. Then dark events start to unfold - docile animals attack their owners, bloody violence erupts in the quiet streets and a child is afflicted with sudden bruises. The blame falls on the curse of the Irish Travellers, who in turn, warn Freya about the true nature of the Hudveks. Rumours of necromancy and shamanism abound, while Freya struggles with blinding herself to the truth about her strange, new friends.

In the end Freya must face her past and embrace the voice of intuition; if she is to save the village from the evil that threatens all those she has grown to love.

Find out more about Santinder Bhatti and her books at Good Reads https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7065154.Satinder_Bhatti

I've got a lot of books to post next week but there is still room for more. If you want a spot in the Limelight then email me your details to lefitzpatrick@hotmail.co.uk 

Saturday, 5 October 2013

The Case for Brandy - Tracey Llavay

Tonight we're showcasing The Case for Brandy by Tracey Llavay. Enjoy...

The Case for Brandy (Extract) - Tracey Llavay

At four o’clock in the afternoon Brandy Ogletree checked her watch and wondered if she’d have
enough time to stop by Old Navy and purchase an outfit to wear to rehearsal. But heat was blistering her neck and was singing her ears. A half dozen pairs of eyes gazed at her from under blaring hairdryers. Their gazes empathizing with her own. Screw this.  
Brandy lifted the hood of the hairdryer and ducked out.  She touched a hand to her teal-colored rollers and snatched it back. Damn, was Vickie trying to fry my hair? Vickie had been roller-setting, perming, braiding and screwing up Brandy’s hair for more than a decade. But for reasons of unexplained loyalty, Brandy kept returning for the abuse. Shaking her head, she slid across the duct-taped seat, stood and un-bunched her navy blue skirt, which was hiked nearly to her crotch. Ignoring one woman’s smile, Brandy marched from the shampoo room and into the styling room and stopped.
Vickie, the hairdresser, was huddled with a man wearing a business suit and a silky blond ponytail. His large hand was clutching the back of her neck. Brandy stiffened. Lover’s quarrel? Whatever it was, Brandy was not down on Mr. Ponytail strong-arming her hairdresser. Brandy cleared her throat, which went dry. Right about now, she could go for some Tanqueray with a twist of lime. She heard Vickie cry out. “Hey, something wrong?”
Vickie half-turned, but Mr. Ponytail tightened his grip, restricting the woman’s neck movement. He leveled Brandy with an icy glare and warned, “Everything’s copasetic.”
“What does that mean?” Brandy asked the old-school perp. He was tall, maybe six-two. A tattoo of a lightning strike ran down his cheek with the word quick underneath.
“Everything’s fine,” he said through clenched teeth.
Brandy took in the scene. All she saw was the back of the petite stylist’s afro, but he towered over Vickie.  Brandy said, “Girl, you’re killin’ me. I gotta be at the office in an hour.”
Vickie giggled nervously. “Me and my man here’re just havin’ a little spat. That’s all.” Suddenly the hairdresser buckled.  Ponytail caught the stylist by her scrawny neck and levitated her. She gasped and said to Vickie, “Go on back in there and set the dryer for fifteen minutes, unless you wanna pay now?”
Better to pay now than later. As she stepped back, Brandy retorted, “I don’t need this crap. I’ll pay now. I can take my own rollers out. You’re gonna make me late.” Then Brandy pivoted, strode into the other room and picked up her Wal-Mart tote. The blood-curdling scream wasn’t unexpected; it just occurred too soon. The trio under the dryers startled, terror showing in their eyes. Brandy placed an index finger to her lips and flashed her badge. They nodded.
And Brandy stormed into the styling room. Geez! What she saw turned her stomach. Mr. Ponytail slashed a straight razor across the hairdresser’s other cheek. Now both sides of her face flapped open. Vickie fell against the glass display, wailing. With trembling hands, Brandy pulled the Sig Sauer from her tote. “Drop your weapon!”
The suit held the blood-soaked razor in midair. His blue eyes darted from Brandy to Vickie then rested on Brandy and her trembling hands. He smiled coldly. “She owes me four grand.”
Brandy gripped her weapon. Her knees threatened to buckle, but she willed them to stand shoulder-width apart. “I don’t give a shit what she owes you. You’re under arrest for felonious assault, for starters.” She kept her gaze trained on him and checked on her injured stylist. “Vickie, can you hear me?” The woman’s wail had died to a whimper, and Brandy was afraid Vickie was going into shock. She reached inside her tote and fished out the cuffs. With her left hand, she tossed them to the perp. They clanged and slid across the black-tiled floor. She jerked her head to the left. “Cuff yourself to that radiator over there.”
He smirked. “Hey, cunt, why don’t you cuff me?” He thrust his hips forward. “Right here, bitch.” He grabbed his crotch.
Brandy’s eyes darted over to Vickie. She was crumpled on the tile, no longer whimpering. And this creep, in his perfectly creased trousers and Don Johnson five o’clock shadow, just propositioned her. In that instant, she made her decision. She raised her Sig Sauer so it was trained on his left shoulder.
His mouth fell open, and his blue eyes widened. “Wait!” 
She squeezed the trigger. The explosion was deafening. It shook the beauty shop. Mr. Ponytail had dropped like a sack of potatoes. He rolled onto the tile and howled, “You shot me!”
Brandy retrieved the cuffs, flipped the suspect onto his stomach and ignored his screeches. “You told me to do this.” She cuffed him. “Now you’re complaining?” She banged her Sig on his shoulder. He screamed.
“You dirty bitch!” 
She smiled tightly. “I get that all the time.” She stepped over his pooling blood, scrambled over to the wounded hairdresser and checked her vitals.  Barely there. Shit. “Hang in there, Vickie.” She snatched the phone off the display and punched 911. “This is Patrolman Brandy Olgletree of Kingston Park PD, badge number 44761. I need a squad at Kool Kare Hair Salon. Corner of Burnet and Wooten.” She glanced over her shoulder. The trio of ladies was huddled, horror-stricken.
The one with her hair wrapped and plastered with paper as thin as toilet tissue clutched her throat. “Who’s gonna finish my do? Gotta be at work in an hour.”

Brandy shook her head. “That’s the least of your worries. Go on and call in. You’ll be tied up for at least that.” She glanced out the store front window. Curious passers-by wandered over and peered inside the slightly frosted windows of the shop. She held up her badge. The suspect screamed again. She ordered, “Shut up, Bitch!” Brandy sighed. God damn it. There’s gonna be a shitload of paperwork. And I’ll be late for the wedding rehearsal. 

You can read more about Brandy or about the author here: http://www.amazon.com/Tracey-Llavay/e/B00EZZM2IE

Fancy a spot in the Limelight email your extract to lefitzpatrick@hotmail.co.uk

Wednesday, 2 October 2013

Axe and Emerald - Joshua Dyer

It's cold, wet and windy outside. I'm curled up under the duvet with the one-eyed, diabetic cat squishing my legs and I'm in the mood for some gore... Anyone with me? 

 Introducing Joshua Dyer and a little gruesome extract from his book Axe and Emerald... 

Axe and Emerald (Extract) - Joshua Dyer 

McLean crept around the edge of the granite wall with his silver hatchet at his side. Rhone soon found the source of the rectangular shadows setting against the far wall of the basement. A large polished casket lay underneath the dancing flame of another small torch. Its lid leaned against the open cask’s mahogany body. He thought about calling out to the girl. Then it occurred to the loner that she no longer struggled against her attacker.
I’m probably gonna find a dead bod –
A handful of long cold fingers shot out of the dark consuming his mouth and nose. The pale yellow arm threw Rhone across the wet floor before he could even consider a swat of his blade. The youthful girl of about twelve stepped out of the darkness, and let out a rebellious hiss.
Her mouth cracked open revealing a sparse set of green and blackened teeth. The two top and bottom incisors grew out to meet in the middle of her inhuman maw. Her once beautiful blonde hair had been reduced to a thin layer of grotesque strands that hung on her decayed scalp.
McLean leaped to his feet and reared his blade back for a strike. The girl charged him – her skeletal arms outstretched. Rhone shoved her limbs aside with his left hand, and silenced her shriek with a swat of his hatchet. Its edge severed the tendons in the child’s neck like straps of worn leather and glanced off of the wall behind her form. In an instant, her head bounced on the stone floor frozen in eternal terror. The wall had knocked the light layer of rust free exposing the weapon’s shimmering silver head in the faint light.
Another set of bony hands grabbed Rhone’s shoulders. They picked him off of the ground and threw him against the same wall with bruising force. A wave of tingling agony washed over him as he did his best to remain upright. The outlaw now stood face to face with what used to be a middle-aged man. This one, too, let loose a guttural wail showing off his demonic overbite. The vampire’s old flannel shirt had been reduced to rags, and his old brown slacks fared no better. A long yellow big toe poked out of the hole on the end of his rotted right boot. The monster took Rhone by the throat in his powerful right claw and lifted him into the air of his sanctuary. Its lips curled in a wicked grin beneath the monster’s unkempt black beard and moustache. McLean felt his airway constrict under the intense grip of the nightmare creature.
Rhone swung his weapon up at the monster’s muscular shoulder. The awkward angle of the strike caused the blade to sink halfway into the tissue of its rancid socket. The undead man dropped McLean to the floor and clasped at its gaping wound. The mangled flesh around the crevasse began to sizzle and boil. The vampire howled in pain and landed a vicious backhand to Rhone’s cheek with its good arm.
“I’ll be sure to drain you slowly,” the creature said. Its words got mashed up as they passed through its massive overbite.
Requiem aeternam pacem,” Rhone replied. His blue eyes met the milky gaze of the enraged demon.
With a swing of his axe, the vampire’s arm tumbled to the damp stone. It cowered away into the shadows of its haven howling as it shuffled.
“You’ll pay a heavy toll for that, Warmblood.”
Rhone stood ready. The blade next to his eyes dripped with a sour green slime. Small pinpoints of red gleamed in the depths of the dungeon corner. A winged demon launched itself from the solace of the shadows, and took the desperado by the front of his duster. Its massive leathery wings beat against his arms as the vampire’s mouth of razors lunged for his jugular. The force of the attack pushed them both back toward the far wall beneath the stairs. Rhone instinctively rotated on his heels trading places with the creature in their dance of death. He used the momentum to his advantage, and pinned the vampire to the stone with his left forearm. It shrieked and beat its wings against his face cutting it in several places. McLean raised his weapon over his hat, and decapitated the beast in one swift stroke. The body of the hairless bat went limp and flopped to the floor.
Rhone wiped the blood and sweat from his cheek and staggered toward the staircase. The ascent back into the great room pushed the limits of his legs’ endurance. The cowboy felt as though he gained weight with every step he climbed.

Yup, that did the trick... So do you want to read more? Here's where you can find the full book http://www.amazon.com/Axe-Emerald-Everdark-Saga-ebook/dp/B00F9CEJ24

And if you want a spot in the Limelight email me your work at lefitzpatrick@hotmail.co.uk - always looking for new talent to showcase.