Welcome Today's Featured Author
HG Lynch!!!
But when he confronts Dave about the missing woman, Antonio finds himself facing down the barrel of a gun.
Waking up dead was not part of his plan.
With a Reaper at the gates and a gravestone at his back, he'll risk his afterlife to catch his killer.
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08HX3VSGF
Excerpt:
I heard him coming, and I clenched my fists. The
movie I’d been watching became a buzz in the background as I listened to the
keys scraping against the front door – he was so drunk he couldn’t get the key
in the lock, as usual.
At the dining table, Mum
started to get up, laying her magazine aside. I rolled my eyes, wishing she
would leave the dumb bastard to struggle. Maybe he’d give up and go sleep in
the gutter.
The lock finally clicked, and
the door opened with the same old whine of hinges that had been driving me nuts
since we moved into this shithole six years ago. No matter how many times I
oiled it, it still whined like a sad puppy.
Mum sat back down, a smile
plastered on her face. “Hey, honey,” she said as he stumbled in the door,
bringing with him a fog of alcohol fumes that made my eyes burn.
He grinned sloppily at my
mother. “Estella! You look beautiful ton-hic-tonight!”
Mum fluttered a hand
self-consciously around her hair. “Oh, but I’m not even wearing my make-up,”
she protested humbly, as she always did, even though she knew she was an
attractive woman for her age. She’d been pretty when she’d been younger, and
her youthful charm had settled into mature lines.
Dad had always told her she
was beautiful. But not in the sloppy, drunken way this buffoon did. Dad had
said it because he meant it, because he loved her. Unlike the man before me,
whose beer goggles would have convinced him a lamppost was worth a shag.
Coming around the table, Dave
bent to kiss Mum, and I looked away, disgusted. I tossed the TV remote aside
and stood up, preparing to leave the room.
“Where d’you think you’re
goin’, boy?” Dave’s slurred voice froze me on the spot. I knew that belligerent
tone in his voice. It meant he’d decided he didn’t like my face tonight, or the
way I walked, or the t-shirt I was wearing.
It meant I was probably ending
up with another bruise tonight.