Wednesday, June 11, 2014

Blog Tour: GIRL OF RAGE by Charles Sheehan Miles EXCERPT

Girl of Rage by Charles Sheehan-Miles
Book 2 of the Rachel’s Peril Trilogy
Genre: Suspense/Thrillers

Four days ago, Andrea Thompson agreed to fly to the United States to help her sister Carrie. Four days ago, everything changed. 

Now Andrea is lost and on the run. Dylan Paris is missing. Julia and Crank Wilson are under investigation by the Internal Revenue Service. The Thompson family is scattered and in danger, and Andrea’s very identity may hold the key to unlock decades of buried secrets.

Andrea, the youngest member of the Thompson clan, sets out on a search to find answers. Who is attacking her family? Who is trying to kill her and why? 

As Andrea seeks her answers, everything she thought she knew about her family will be turned upside down.

Charles Sheehan-Miles has been a soldier, computer programmer, short-order cook and non-profit executive, and is the author of several fiction and non-fiction books, including the indie bestsellers Just Remember to Breathe and Republic: A Novel of America's Future. Charles and his partner Andrea Randall live and write together in South Hadley, Massachusetts.

You're also invited to join the Remember to Breathe Facebook group 

Girl of Rage (Rachel's Peril)

Girl of Lies (Rachel's Peril)


Andrea Thompson , May 1, 12:04 am

As she saw the lean figure limping toward her in the darkness, Andrea Thompson stepped out of her hiding place. Dylan Paris walked unevenly toward her through the dimly lit entrance to the Bethesda Metro Station. He wore a light jacket, even though it was really too warm for it, and a canvas backpack was casually thrown over his shoulder. His face was grim, mouth turned into a deep frown, and his eyes were focused somewhere else, far away from her. At first she thought he was going to walk right by her.
He stopped, his hands tightening into fists. His pause gave her a second to look closer at him, but he wasn’t reassuring. His face, already unshaven, had dark flecks of dirt or something along his jawline. One of his hands shook, and his shoes were soaked. Why?
She’d last seen him as she went over the rail of the balcony. He’d been standing in the darkness, knives in hand, ready to protect her.
Get into the condo below us then meet me … in thirty minutes. At the war memorial on Norfolk. If we miss each other there, then the Metro station at midnight. Got it?
Looking at him now, she wondered what the delay had cost him. Gunmen had been coming down that hallway. She shivered as the realization sank in that this man, who she barely knew, must have killed their attackers with his bare hands. The flecks on his face weren’t dirt.
They were blood.
“We need to get out of here,” he said. His voice was low, and barely contained a hint of savagery.

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