Painted Black has a moment in the spotlight today.
Ramblings of a Coffee Addicted Writer has posted a synopsis, author bio and excerpt from Chapter Two on their blog today. There are buy links in the post as well, or you can just go HERE and select your favorite vendor.
I hope you enjoy the attached excerpt from Painted Black
“Wait.” The word seemed to rush out of Lexie before she could think. They looked back. “I was wondering if, you know, if you could–” she looked at Jo, then quickly back at Keisha. “Could you buy me something to eat, maybe? I’m awful hungry.”
Jo had a second to picture this half naked child seated at a corner table set with fine linen and Waterford crystal before Keisha said, “How about a burrito?”
Eduardo’s, famous for a clam sauce made from Mediterranean shellfish and extra virgin olive oil, did not serve burritos. Felipe’s Taco and Burrito Place, however, did. As soon as they walked in the door of the little restaurant, they were hit by the smell of greasy meat. Keisha ordered and paid, then they found a booth near the counter to wait for their food.
From his second floor window, Sidney watched the woman leave. Dark alley–no, dark hair, shoulder length hair, alive, living, medium height. Young, maybe twenty five. She stopped just outside the door, like she saw something that scared her. Probably that cat he’d seen earlier, or a rat maybe. Nothing to worry about. Whatever the woman was doing here, surely it could have nothing to do with what had happened earlier.
The light slanted into the alley from the street and freeze-framed the moment like a scene from an old movie. A horror movie, with monsters and chainsaws and women who scream.
But that wasn’t real life. In real life, women seldom scream.
Excerpt from Painted Black
Excerpt from Painted Black
Street lights washed out the blink of green neon from the Hotel Chateau. Most of the windows had drapes drawn closed; half of them hung crooked on their rods. Near the entrance stood a young woman, hands in the pockets of a short jacket with the collar turned up. When the girl noticed them, she hurried around the corner.
“Lexie,” Keisha called and headed after her. Jo followed. “Alexis, I know it’s you. Quit trying to get away.” To Jo, she added, “She’s just a kid.”
When the girl turned and waited with a sullen expression, Jo saw what Keisha meant. Despite the reek of perfume, thick layers of eye shadow, and mascara that turned her lashes into tarantula legs, she could not have been older than fifteen.
Quinlan had gone on from there to explore more enterprises. Most of the projects were hot rockets–exuberant bursts of flame that lit up the sky for a while and then fizzled off into the horizon. Quinlan’s talent, it seemed, lay in buying low and selling high. The buzz had it that he’d acquired a small fortune along the way while his associates barely managed to limp off the battlefield.
From Painted Black, the novel
Philip Quinlan, just a harmless investor in a revolutionary new embalming process. What harm could he possibly do?
