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Saturday, 22 September 2012

Six weeks to go...and counting...


It’s been good to finally have a fixed date for the book launch and to be making concrete plans. It has given me a focus and a clear goal to move towards this week when other paths in my life are now blurry and unclear.
This week has been one of those weeks of my life that I wish I could just rub out like chalk on a black-board, as if it never happened. I took a significant leap of faith in my life recently, which is not turning out as I had hoped, and my health has consequently taken a battering. I now have to re-assess ‘where to from here?’ At the moment, things seem quite bleak, but I believe that there is no such thing as a dead end road and that my hope for something better beyond this time is not misplaced.
There are 6 weeks to go now until the launch, and I have been discussing promotion and marketing with the publisher this week, including pricing for the hard copy book and e-book version. It’s really exciting after all the hard work of editing and proof-reading to be talking about purchasing options.
Please continue to follow my Novel Journey through the countdown to the launch, and I hope you will enjoy this next extract from Mine to Avenge - this time from Chapter 43:

Spyridon sat waiting until Parker appeared from the shadows of the lean-to. He pushed Spyridon over to the doorway into the house. ‘Inside,’ he said. ‘Move! And keep it quiet.’
Parker made Spyridon pause for a few minutes just inside the door. Spyridon knew that Parker was allowing the time needed for Linus to return to his suite. The boy had gone into the house only a minute or two ahead of them. When Parker was sure all was quiet, he prodded Spyridon and waved his hand, directing Spyridon towards the passage leading to the library.
Arriving at the library, Parker pushed Spyridon inside. He waved the gun at him while positioning a chair with its back to the door. He motioned to Spyridon to sit in the chair, then carefully put the gun down behind him on Spyridon’s desk, well out of his reach. He took some strong tape from his pockets and tightly bound Spyridon’s wrists and ankles to the chair. Last of all, Parker taped his mouth. Spyridon gagged as his breath was cut off, and concentrated on trying to breathe through his nose. Parker stepped back to survey his handiwork, walking slowly around Spyridon to see that all was secure.
Spyridon watched Parker as he moved in front of him, puzzled in spite of his fear and predicament. He was moving in a strange way—deliberately and slowly, with measured steps. He remembered that Parker had moved the same way earlier when they were in the garage. He wondered if it was because the man was without his walking stick. He was puzzled, too, that someone who usually walked with a stick was so physically fit.
Parker picked up the gun again, levelled it at Spyridon’s head, and then disabled the intercom system to the library. The video monitor was already switched off. With his free hand, he reached for a second chair, and positioned it in front of Spyridon. He straddled it backwards, facing Spyridon, and leaned forwards, his chin resting on his arms folded over the back of the chair.
‘Well, Spyridon Anastos, here we are,’ he chuckled, keeping his voice low. ‘Aren’t you wondering why we’re here like this? Aren’t you wondering what this is all about?’
 Spyridon’s eyes communicated the fear and panic he was unable to express.

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