INDIE AUTHOR TAG_DAY 2!

http://tgunwriter.blogspot.com/

Francine Howarth has a great idea :

This blogfest is just a simple fun game of playing tag on Amazon to up your profile and that of your book's.

First off: how tagging works

a) be prepared to tag all those who join the tag-party = fair play
b) basically follow tag-players’ links to Amazon
c) scroll to tag and add appropriate tags

DAY TWO for me is :
UNDER A VOODOO MOON {100% OF THIS BOOK'S ROYALTIES ALSO GO TO THE SALVATION ARMY.}

http://www.amazon.com/LEGEND-VICTOR-STANDISH-VOODOO-ebook/dp/B0064CKPJ4/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1328321661&sr=8-2

Oh, 4 more reviews for THE LEGEND OF VICTOR STANDISH, AND I DRAW FROM THE 15 REVIEWERS FOR A CHARLES SCHULTZ OR CLINT EASTWOOD AUTOGRAPH!

LET'S SUPPORT OUR FELLOW INDIE AUTHORS!! LET'S DO SOME TAGGING!

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BONUS from UNDER A VOODOO MOON

{Victor is running for his life through the French Quarter at midnight. Evolved raptors, who prey on street people, are hot on his heels. He has diverted their attention from Alice to him.

"The color of love is blood," Alice once told him. Now, he understands} --

WITH HELL AT MY HEELS -

My running legs turned to lead, my chest peppered with hot needles, I looked about. I was lost.

Was this Orleans Street? That tree ahead of me. I charged it. I felt the hot breath of the raptor on my neck.

I wall ran up the tree, spinning up and over behind the lunging raptor. I landed easy, kicking it in the butt to slam its head hard into the trunk.

Movement to my right.

Jean Lafitte and his brother, Pierre. They might have been ghosts, but their swords looked sharp.

“Run, Little Man, run! Pierre and I have told these brutes : Pirate Alley is ours!”

Raptors screamed as they were run through. I smiled wide. Sometimes it helped to have friends in ghoulish places.

Or not.

A knife slashed towards my eyes. I ducked down, doing the Parkour roll right between legs in a frilly hoop skirt.

Delphine LaLaurie.

The French Quarter’s Jill the Ripper. Her knife bloody from the tortured bodies of her slaves, she looked at me with insane eyes.

“I worship blood and screams.”

I jerked my thumb over my shoulder to the sound of clawed feet on pavement. “Get ready for a religious experience!”

I raced down the dark street, at whose end was St. Louis Cathedral and the spotlighted courtyard statue of Jesus, casting long shadows of waiting arms for me.

To welcome me to death …

or to safety?

I laughed. What matter? I was Victor Standish, and the only sure thing was that I would never quit. Never.
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