Danse Macabre

Danse Macabre

by Cristelle Comby

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BLURB:

Private investigators Alexandra Neve and Ashford Egan are hired to succeed where the police have failed, to safely return home a missing ballerina. With no lead to pursue and no idea who could be behind the young woman’s kidnapping, they soon find themselves at a loss as to what to do.

To make matters worse, the heart of England seems to be caught in the middle of a little Ice Age. With snow endlessly falling and Tube lines either too cramped up to use or out of service, it is a pain to do any legwork in the huge metropolis.

Oh, and because trouble never comes alone, there may also be a serial killer on the loose in the streets of East London...

EXCERPT:

I take a better look at the dancer facing us. He looks… fragile more than shy. He has bags under his eyes, his nails show the traces of nervous biting, and his clothes are ill-fitting. Lack of sleep, tension, weight loss. What is going on in Marc Jules’ life? What is he trying to hide from us? ‘That’s not all, is it?’ I lean forward, look at him square on. ‘There’s something you’re not telling us. It’s plain to see.’

The young man shrinks in on himself even more. ‘No… no, nothing. I told you everything I know. I have no idea where Isabella is. I swear.’ A thought strikes me, and I try another angle. ‘She obviously means something to you.’

The man’s eyes shift to the side as he focuses all of his attention on the half-empty lemonade glass sitting on the table. Gotcha!

‘You like her, yet you refuse to help us; it doesn’t make sense,’ I continue. ‘What would Isabella say if she could see you now?’

‘I don’t know anything,’ Marc protests with fervour.

‘Really?’

‘I’d tell you if I knew. I like her, she’s my friend. I want to find her too.’

‘Then stop lying to us,’ Egan says. ‘What are you not telling us?’

‘If what you’re saying is the truth, you would do well to stop keeping things from us. You’re slowing us down, Marc; you’re wasting our time,’

I continue, relentless. I can feel we’re close to breaking him, so very close. ‘Do you know how valuable time is, in a situation like this? Time is everything. Every second we’re wasting on you is taking us further away from Isabella.’

‘You’re letting her down, right now.’ Egan adds. ‘Maybe you’re not her friend after all.’

‘No — she’s my friend. I swear.’ Marc rushes the words out, tears welling up in his eyes.

‘She’s helped me when no one else would. I owe her so much.’

My eyebrows rise up at the words and I cock my head to the side, my expression expectant.

Marc bites down hard on his lip the second he finishes his sentence. He didn’t mean to reveal this much to us, but it’s too late now. The cat’s out of the bag. I soften my tone now that I’ve got what I wanted. ‘What do you mean, Marc? How did she help you?’

‘I don’t… she just…’ He stops himself, crosses his arms over his chest. ‘It’s nothing to do with any of this.’

‘Let us be the judges of that,’ Egan says. ‘If Isabella was involved, it could be relevant.’

‘It’ll stay between us,’ I promise. ‘We’re not the police, Marc. Whatever it is, no one else needs to know.’

The young man lets out a long breath as he uncrosses his arms. Defeated, he lets his hands hang limp in his lap.

Author Interview

What did you hope to accomplish with your books?

All I’ve ever wanted to do is entertain the reader. I hope to give someone an entertaining break from reality for a little while; take them along for a fun adventure. I hope they will care about my characters and love them as I do.

What is the greatest test you ever faced as a writer?

Promotion is difficult to me. I’m a little shy and a very privy person, so it’s not always easy talking about myself and why I write.

What’s the best advice you ever got about the publishing industry?

There’s a phrase I read once, which has stuck with me since: “You’re the only one who can kill your dreams.” I keep repeating it, when people ask me for advice (and dearly wish I could remember where I got it form). It’s so very true. It’s a tough business, rejection letters stink, and some reviews can make you cry. But you have to keep believing in the dream, you have to keep it alive. Keep going on.

If you could meet two authors, which ones would you pick and why?

Jim Butcher, most definitely. He’s my favourite author. I love the dark humour in his books, the vast array of strange creatures he’s created.

Also, I’d love to meet  Michael Crichton. He’s done some really cool and iconic Science Fiction. I’m sure he’s a really interesting guy to talk to.

AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Cristelle Comby was born and raised in the French-speaking area of Switzerland, in Greater Geneva, where she still resides.

Thanks to her insatiable thirst for American and British action films and television dramas, her English is fluent.

She attributes to her origins her ever-peaceful nature and her undying love for chocolate. She has a passion for art, which also includes an interest in drawing and acting.

Danse Macabre is her third new-adult novel, and she’s hard at work on the next titles in the Neve & Egan series.

Links :

Website: http://cristelle-comby.com

Twitter: http://twitter.com/Cristelle

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=ntt_athr_dp_sr_1?_encoding=UTF8&field-author=Cristelle%20Comby&search-alias=digital-text&sort=relevancerank

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/CristelleComby

The author is giving away a copy of Danse Macabre. Use the rafflecopter below to enter. You can find her schedule at http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2014/10/vbtdanse-macabre-by-cristelle-comby.html

Enter to win a signed copy of the book - a Rafflecopter giveaway

Blue Butterfly

If you came for Fashionista Friday, scroll on down, especially if you like cats. I have two wonderful guests today so why not enjoy both of them as well? 

One ebook (Kindle, Mobi) copy of Blue Butterfly will be given away!

Contest code: a Rafflecopter giveaway

Paperback: 314 pages

Publisher: L.B. Publishing (March 3, 2014)

ISBN-10: 0984896759

ISBN-13: 978-0984896752

Book Title: Blue Butterfly

Genre: Christian Fiction,  Age Group 18+
 
Tour Hosted by WNL Book Tours: www.wnlbooktours.com

Author Tour Schedule: http://bit.ly/1oCKKEJ

There have been five black ballerinas that have made a noticeable mark in the world of ballet. Five that have fought to have the world see their talent rather than the color of their skin. Each has graced the stage as soloist and/or principal dancer. Precious Blue Johnson is set to become one of them. Precious Blue Johnson, young, country and naive, from Lutts County, Georgia, is traveling to the energizing city of New York to search for her birth father and perhaps make history by becoming the first black ballerina. Her simple mocha skin and thick lips will put her in the center of a movement, expose secrets and unlock the past as she steps onto the stage as the Blue Butterfly. She will be guided by the vivacious and wise Ms. Ann and fall in love with the alluring Ray Silvers. Ray brings the whole package. Enchanting eyes, a bright future as a doctor, and a willingness to love completely. To Precious, he is perfect. Except Ray’s package includes his deadly past. Will their love survive the one person who could end it all—his drug-addicted mother? 

 About the Author:

Clean Fiction novelist Marian L. Thomas is a dynamic story-teller with five engaging and dramatic novels to her credit. Her books have been seen on national television stations and featured in print magazines and newspapers. She has also been a guest on many broadcast and online radio stations. Her titles, My Father’s Colors and Strings of Color both received the USA Best Book Finalist Award. What makes her books unique? Mrs. Thomas is a pioneer for clean fiction for contemporary female readers. She refuses to lace her work with explicit sexual themes or profanity. Ms. Thomas’ books are rich with ever-intriguing themes of race, family strife, love, courage, friendship and forgiveness. And yet her tales, which seem to pre-stage current tabloid headlines, are spelled out in ways that suit the delicate moral tastes of both the Christian Fiction reader and the Clean Fiction book reader. Ms. Thomas resides in a suburb of Georgia with her husband, family and dear friends. 

Social Links

Email: info@marianlthomas.com

Website:   www.marianlthomas.com

Amazon Author Page: http://amzn.to/1kO44gv

Twitter: https://twitter.com/MarianLThomas01

 

Buy Links:

Amazon: http://amzn.to/1nIfxmt

Excerpt Blue Butterfly by Marian L. Thomas

From Chapter One

They say on the night that I was born June 30, 1969the fringes of the moon could be seen peeking out through the thin layers of the clouds. They say that the rain had done come down so hard it felt like something was tearing away at your soul, drop by drop. They say my mama was laying in the birthing room screaming because I was ripping her life away from her. They say that the doctors wanted to cut away at her tummy, but she had done plain-out refused. She was an ebullient woman, with the heart of an unbreakable but beautiful stallion.

I ain't never seen the woman with eyes so blue they felt like they could reach down into the pit of your core and tell you about yourself. I ain't never seen the warmth of her smile or the way she could soothe my daddy with her kind-hearted words. People talk under their breath about her. Talk about how long her silky blond hair was or how thin and soft her frame was. I do alls I can when I hear them whispering about the woman who gave her life so I could dance in the rain on a hot summer day.

Just before she took her last breath they say that she stared into my eyes and smiled because I done come into the world with what she thought was the better part of her. The one feature that my daddy loved the most.

She was the one who placed the weight of my name upon me. Precious Blue Johnson, but everyone around here in Lutts County, Georgia, fixed my name at Precious.

My dear, sweet Daddy is a tall, well-stocked-around-the-tummy man. I heard that back in his heyday he sported a nicely trimmed frame of six feet, two inches. That his hair used to be slicked back so perfectly there wasn't a black woman in Lutts County that wasn't dying to give it a coat or two of sweet brown sugar with the very tips of their hard-worked fingers.

His shoulders hang now sometimes, but that wasn't always the case. No, it be said that when Charles Johnson used to walk down these dirt-filled roads, his shoulders stood towering with an air of confidence that one could breathe in from a mile away.

Once upon a time, it be rumored that his hazel brown eyes were fixed on singing his way out of Lutts County. They still talk about this fact in the rooms of their barely-able-to-stand homes, where they figure can't nobody hear them but God. Whispering under the dim lights about how it is such a shame that he wasted his talent on a white woman.

There are nights when I would wonder what his voice must have sounded like. I would hear him humming sometimes, but I ain't never heard the sound of butter flowing from his lips.

That's what they say he sounded like.