Life After The Undead by Pembroke Sinclair
Published by: Booktrope Publishing
Publication date: October 27th 2015
Genres: Post-Apocalyptic, Young Adult, Zombies
Synopsis:
Seventeen-year-old Krista must quickly figure out how she’s going to survive in the zombie-destroyed world. The one advantage humans have is that the zombies hate humid environments, so they’re migrating west to escape its deteriorating effects. The survivors plan to construct a wall at North Platte to keep the undead out, and Krista has come to Nebraska to start a new life.
Zombies aren’t the only creatures she has to be cautious of—the other survivors have a dark side. Krista must fight not only to live but also to defend everything she holds dear—her country, her freedom, and ultimately, those she loves.
Join Krista in her quest to survive in this thrilling apocalyptic novel by Pembroke Sinclair.
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EXCERPT
Life After the Undead by Pembroke Sinclair
PROLOGUE
I will never understand peoples’ fascination with the apocalypse. Why would you waste so much time and energy worrying about something you can’t change? Besides, most of the time, it never comes to fruition, anyway. Remember Y2K? I don’t. I was too young, but I’ve heard stories. What a hullabaloo that was. People were so afraid of computers failing and throwing society back into the Dark Ages, they stockpiled supplies and moved into the wilderness so they could get away from technology. Why would they move to the wilderness? If technology was going to fail, wouldn’t they be just as safe in a city? I guess they were afraid when it did, everyone would go crazy and start killing each other. Either way, it didn’t happen. I wonder how those people felt afterward.Then there was the whole 2012 scare. This one was supposedly based on an ancient prediction, so you know it was reliable. Are you kidding? Even the Mayans didn’t believe their own ancestors’ “vision.” What happened was there had been a tablet that had the Mayan calendar carved into it. The end was broken and faded, so no one knew what it said. Our culture, being the pessimistic lot we are, automatically assumed it was an end-of-the-world warning, but, again, nothing happened on December 21, 2012. Christmas came and went, and I think everyone everywhere, even the skeptics, had a little something more to be thankful for. Life went on as usual, and all those doomsayers faded into obscurity.The day the world did end was pretty nondescript. By that I mean there was no nuclear explosion or asteroid or monumental natural disaster. There weren’t even any horsemen or plagues to announce the end was coming. The world ended fairly quietly. I couldn’t even give you a date because it happened at different times depending on where you were. It was never predicted, and I’m sure a scenario no one even considered. Who really thinks the dead are going to rise from the grave and destroy the majority of the population? No one but Hollywood, and we all know those are just movies, but that’s exactly what happened. Those of us who survived were left wide-eyed, mouth agape, trying to figure out what to do next.There were a few who were able to pull their heads out and organize those left behind. They made sure the populace had food, shelter, and protection. They were saviors, the United States’ heroes. Life wouldn’t have gone on without them, and it was pretty difficult those first few years after the zompocalypse.Sometimes it’s difficult for me to remember what life was like before the rise of the undead. I was a teenager, though I hesitate to say normal. I wasn’t deformed or anything, but my classmates thought I was strange. I had a fascination with the dark, the macabre, although I wasn’t a Goth or Emo. I read books and magazines about serial killers. I didn’t idolize them or want to be like them—hell no—I was fascinated with how evil and black a human’s soul could get.I wanted to be a psychologist and work with the criminally insane, maybe figure out why they did what they did. Apparently, when you’re fifteen, your friends think you’re weird if you have desires to help someone other than yourself. While they were worried about becoming popular and getting the right boyfriend, I tried to figure out how to make society better.Of course, those dreams will never come true. Society doesn’t exist. Everything I once held dear is gone. I lost my parents to the horde, like a lot of kids. Unlike some of the others, mine weren’t taken by surprise or in some freak accident. They were taken because of their own stupidity. Some days I miss them a lot, but others I believe they got what they deserved. I might sound callous and uncaring, but what about them? Why would they abandon their fifteen-year-old daughter? It used to keep me up at night, trying to find the answer to that question, but I’ve given up asking it. No reason wasting time on things that could’ve or should’ve been.As I stare out the passenger side window of the semi, I’m reminded how bleak the future has become. The truck rolls down a once heavily traveled highway that has been reduced to a cracked trail. Gas stations and towns dotting the landscape have been abandoned and are crumpling into the weeds that are taking them over. There are a few areas that still resemble pre-zombie destruction, and these are the military outposts set up along the road, used for protection and refueling. I use the term “military” loosely because there is no formal military anymore. It’s a rag-tag group of men and women who were lucky enough to get guns. I chuckle to myself. It’s been two years since I was last out in the world, and a lot has changed since then. I still remember the day the zombies attacked. It’s as clear as if it’d happened yesterday.
I will never understand peoples’ fascination with the apocalypse. Why would you waste so much time and energy worrying about something you can’t change? Besides, most of the time, it never comes to fruition, anyway. Remember Y2K? I don’t. I was too young, but I’ve heard stories. What a hullabaloo that was. People were so afraid of computers failing and throwing society back into the Dark Ages, they stockpiled supplies and moved into the wilderness so they could get away from technology. Why would they move to the wilderness? If technology was going to fail, wouldn’t they be just as safe in a city? I guess they were afraid when it did, everyone would go crazy and start killing each other. Either way, it didn’t happen. I wonder how those people felt afterward.Then there was the whole 2012 scare. This one was supposedly based on an ancient prediction, so you know it was reliable. Are you kidding? Even the Mayans didn’t believe their own ancestors’ “vision.” What happened was there had been a tablet that had the Mayan calendar carved into it. The end was broken and faded, so no one knew what it said. Our culture, being the pessimistic lot we are, automatically assumed it was an end-of-the-world warning, but, again, nothing happened on December 21, 2012. Christmas came and went, and I think everyone everywhere, even the skeptics, had a little something more to be thankful for. Life went on as usual, and all those doomsayers faded into obscurity.The day the world did end was pretty nondescript. By that I mean there was no nuclear explosion or asteroid or monumental natural disaster. There weren’t even any horsemen or plagues to announce the end was coming. The world ended fairly quietly. I couldn’t even give you a date because it happened at different times depending on where you were. It was never predicted, and I’m sure a scenario no one even considered. Who really thinks the dead are going to rise from the grave and destroy the majority of the population? No one but Hollywood, and we all know those are just movies, but that’s exactly what happened. Those of us who survived were left wide-eyed, mouth agape, trying to figure out what to do next.There were a few who were able to pull their heads out and organize those left behind. They made sure the populace had food, shelter, and protection. They were saviors, the United States’ heroes. Life wouldn’t have gone on without them, and it was pretty difficult those first few years after the zompocalypse.Sometimes it’s difficult for me to remember what life was like before the rise of the undead. I was a teenager, though I hesitate to say normal. I wasn’t deformed or anything, but my classmates thought I was strange. I had a fascination with the dark, the macabre, although I wasn’t a Goth or Emo. I read books and magazines about serial killers. I didn’t idolize them or want to be like them—hell no—I was fascinated with how evil and black a human’s soul could get.I wanted to be a psychologist and work with the criminally insane, maybe figure out why they did what they did. Apparently, when you’re fifteen, your friends think you’re weird if you have desires to help someone other than yourself. While they were worried about becoming popular and getting the right boyfriend, I tried to figure out how to make society better.Of course, those dreams will never come true. Society doesn’t exist. Everything I once held dear is gone. I lost my parents to the horde, like a lot of kids. Unlike some of the others, mine weren’t taken by surprise or in some freak accident. They were taken because of their own stupidity. Some days I miss them a lot, but others I believe they got what they deserved. I might sound callous and uncaring, but what about them? Why would they abandon their fifteen-year-old daughter? It used to keep me up at night, trying to find the answer to that question, but I’ve given up asking it. No reason wasting time on things that could’ve or should’ve been.As I stare out the passenger side window of the semi, I’m reminded how bleak the future has become. The truck rolls down a once heavily traveled highway that has been reduced to a cracked trail. Gas stations and towns dotting the landscape have been abandoned and are crumpling into the weeds that are taking them over. There are a few areas that still resemble pre-zombie destruction, and these are the military outposts set up along the road, used for protection and refueling. I use the term “military” loosely because there is no formal military anymore. It’s a rag-tag group of men and women who were lucky enough to get guns. I chuckle to myself. It’s been two years since I was last out in the world, and a lot has changed since then. I still remember the day the zombies attacked. It’s as clear as if it’d happened yesterday.
AUTHOR BIO:
You can learn more about Pembroke Sinclair by visiting her at:
http://pembrokesinclair.blogspot.com/
https://www.facebook.com/jessicarobinsonauthor
https://twitter.com/PembrokeSinclai
https://plus.google.com/102808614523341154478/posts
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3522214.Pembroke_Sinclair
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Saving Casey
AUTHOR: Liza O’Connor
GENRE: Contemporary Suspense
SERIES: Book 1 of the Requires Rescue Series
When 80 year old Cass Goldman learns she has inoperable cancer, she decides to end her life, peacefully on her terms. So imagine her horror when she wakes to find herself in a hospital with strange rich people staring at her. It’s not until the doctor arrives to examine her that she realizes she’s no longer old. She’s in the body of a seventeen year old teen named Casey.
Unfortunately, her new body comes with some serious baggage. First of all, the kid has burned every bridge imaginable. Secondly, those ‘people’ in her room are her outrageously rich parents and while the Dad seems friendly, the mother wants nothing to do with her. The moment they take her home to a horrifically huge mansion, which she dubs Tara, she’s abandoned to the care of the butler.
While Cass is determined to turn this train wreck of a life around, doing so is far harder than she expected. In fact, without help, she’ll end up dead just like the last occupant of this body. Thankfully, her dad has his hunky head of security become her body guard. Between her eighty years of life lessons and hunky Troy’s help, she just might live long enough not to be jail bait.
Cass woke to steady beeping.
The last thing she remembered was Jess licking her face….
Oh God, had something gone wrong? Had her attempt at suicide only succeeded in killing her sweet dog?
She opened her eyes and stared at a couple resting in chairs at the foot of her bed. The well-dressed, haggard man looked to be in his forties, his head tilted to the side as if sleeping. Beside him sat a pale, well-coifed woman with tight thin lips, possibly in her late thirties, staring out the window.
Who the hell were these people? Suicide watchers?
In the woman’s lap rested a Louis Vuitton purse.
Rich suicide watchers? Ridiculous! Never in all her years of creeping about hospitals, watching all her friends die off one by one, had she seen a socialite volunteer. And who would volunteer to suicide watch an old person dying of cancer anyway? Surely, they’d have better things to do.
The man woke and gasped as he noticed her. “Casey?” He rushed to her bedside, covering her face with kisses. She pushed him away, ready to yell for help, but when he stepped back, he looked so hurt by her actions that she remained mute.
What the hell is going on here?
The woman stared at her from her chair, saying nothing.
Pulling his chair to the bed, the man sat and pressed his cheek to her hand. “Oh, kitten, we thought we’d lost you.” Tears welled in his eyes. He seemed most distressed.
Cass struggled to make sense of words.
He’d called her Casey when he first woke. Was it possible he knew her? God knows my memory can’t hold crap these days.
But he’d also called her “kitten,” and her nickname had never ever been kitten. This guy had the wrong old woman!
What the hell happened? How could they have possibly screwed up my identity? They clearly rescued me from my home.
The man stood, stroking her cheek with sincere affection. “I’ll be right back. I need to let Leonard know you’ve wakened.” Then he rushed from the room.
Why can’t I remember this man? She tried to recall what her nephew looked like. No…this fellow looked around forty-five. Her nephew would be in his late sixties now. Did her nephew have a son she’d forgotten?
Soon her mystery fellow returned with a doctor of a reasonable age.
The socialite woman stood upon the arrival of the doctor, smiled faintly, and extended her limp hand, which he cherished as if she were royalty.
Who the hell are these people?
The doctor finally stopped worshipping the woman and helped Cass sit up. He put his cold stethoscope on her back. “Take a deep breath.”
She did, and discovered she’d acquired serious lung power. Evidently, consuming a large quantity of painkillers and exhaust fumes could regenerate old lungs.
He placed her right hand in his. “Squeeze my hand as hard as you can.”
She stared at the plump pink hand he held. That was not her old bony hand with blue veins shining through paper-thin skin. She followed the hand up to a plump arm. Holy shit! I’m in a young person’s body! How’d that happen?
Liza O’Connor is a nut.
Not a real nut, but she is prone to being a smart ass at times, and not surprisingly her heroines say odd and inappropriate things in her book, as well. So even in a suspense novel you can expect to laugh along the way. That’s because Liza loves to see humor in the crazy world around her.
Saving Casey was actually the first book Liza published. Having recently reclaimed her rights to the book, she is happily re-publishing it as her 18th book. And because her books sell better when in a series, she using Saving Casey to kick of a new series called Requires Rescue. It will be different from her other series where the same characters show up in each book. This series will be about strong women who are trying to go it alone, only when help is offered, they have the good sense to accept the helping hand, because in all of our lives, there will come a time you need someone else to help you. Being strong doesn’t make us invincible. Book 1 is Casey/Cass’ story. Book 2 will be about an entirely different young woman who desperately needs help before she’s murdered on the streets of NYC. Book 3, well the plot is super unique, and more books will follow.
You’ll be able to read the series in any order you want, but in each case, you’ll have a strong young woman, a guy stepping up to help when no one else does, and danger galore with humor stuffed in anywhere I can.
I hope you’ll come along with me so you can laugh, love, and get revenge.
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Title: PULLED: TORN BOOK TWO
Author: AF Crowell
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Publisher: Boroughs Publishing Group
Release Date: September 7, 2015
ER nurse Leila Matthews can imagine no love more soul-searing than that she found with her friend, Jaxon Henderson—until the passionate return of Brody Davis, the father of her soon-to-be-born child.
Sexy, emotional and intense, Pulled, can be read as a stand alone novel or as book two in the Torn series. NEW BEGINNINGS E.R. nurse Leila Matthews’s whole life turned upon one single sentence: “Brody, I’m pregnant.” What she thought would be the happiest day of her life became a nightmare as she was abandoned by the father of her soon-to-be-born child. If her friend Jaxon wasn’t there to pick up the pieces, she couldn’t have coped. Then what had started out as a deep and abiding friendship became a soul-searing love. Yet, while Jaxon is the man of her dreams, Leila doesn’t want her child to grow up not knowing its father. The situation, a triangle involving tortured pasts and unstoppable passion, will test everyone involved. Both suitors will seek forgiveness for terrible mistakes, and Leila will soon be pulled between two powerful men: a handsome CEO who owns all he surveys, and an ex-soldier whose M.C. teeters on the brink of the unforgivable. Leila must choose the man who is perfect for her future…and for the future of her child.
(WARNING DO NOT PROCEED IF YOU HAVE NOT READ PUSHED BOOK ONE)
~*~** TWO DAY SALE ~*~~*
ONLY $2.99!
Before you get PULLED makes sure you get PUSHED!
Trauma nurse Leila Matthews is about to meet the one man who can tear through her emotional defenses, but the billionaire playboy will have a harder time winning her heart than her body.
Sexy, emotional and intense, Pushed, book one in the Torn series, begins the saga of Brody, Leila, and Jaxon. BOOK ONE IN THE TORN SERIES UNTO OBLIVION Nurse Leila Matthews has seen it all, or so she thought until this morning. Into the chaos of her trauma ward walked a man more intense than anything she has ever known. His smile tore away all her defenses, and his kiss ignited flames damped for far too long--and a knowledge that such dangerous ripples are only the beginning. Brody Davis is anything but safe. Wealthy, handsome, and unrepentantly single, the billionaire's first priority is himself...and the pleasure of every woman he's sure to leave. Yet his best friend's baby sister is temptation itself. If any female could make him stay, it would be Leila, whose sweet lips and sweeter flesh push him to be better than he believes he can. He desires a quick conquest. The battle for Leila's heart is yet to be fought. And he is not the only combatant.
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A.F. Crowell lives in Charleston, SC with her husband and two sons. They have two dogs, Diesel, a German Shepherd rescue and Dez, a black Labrador Retriever. She shares her love of books with her children, who have a head start on becoming life-long readers. Romance fiction hit her radar when her husband forced her to watch Twilight one weekend when they were snowed in. That was it! From there her love grew; Contemporary Romance, Paranormal, YA and Dystopian are her preferred reads.
Author Links https://www.facebook.com/authorafcrowell www.afcrowell.com https://twitter.com/AuthorAFCrowell
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/13524356.AF_Crowell http://www.amazon.com/AF-Crowell/e/B00U2VTZYY/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1
Thanks for have Saving Casey on your blog!
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