It is getting harder than ever to come up with posts that are not filled with even a little doom and gloom, mainly because I am trying so hard to avoid thinking about the future.
I should be bouncing around like a two-year-old at a birthday party, full of the joy of the approaching release of my latest masterpiece.
The excitement is there, somewhere, as I get moments when I forget everything else and become a writer and nothing else matters.
Book Four in the series, but can be read as a stand alone
The pre-release is going well, HERE IN UK and IN US with interest on amazon itself and also my own marketing efforts on social media and Bookfunnel HERE.
Many, many thanks to everyone who has taken part!
I almost have everything ready for next week’s launch, and I’m busy working on a trailer and the paperback edition.
It crossed my mind that I should be promoting the previous book in the series, CrossFire, so I have reduced the price in case anyone is interested in finding out what happened before and how my favourite detective, David Snow, ended up the way he did.
Blurb for CrossFire
A mysterious thriller about an unusual serial killer, from the author of Nine Lives and Out of Time…
Detective Snow has another killer to catch.
A killer as mysterious as the crimes he commits.
Someone has killed his sergeant and now seems to be coming after him.
He is hampered by the arrival of ‘Ruthless’ DI Ruth Winton,
Someone who is not who she seems to be.
Can he outwit this killer, or will the truth cost him his life?
For the past few days, I have shut myself in the office with that timeless excuse, I simply cannot put this book down!
Seriously, for the first time in a long time, I am really committed to finishing this book. Where I can generally put my writing aside to do all the normal, everyday jobs, I suddenly can’t do it. This book has to come first…
I cannot stop until I can no longer hold a pen, and I even eat at my desk. I hope this won’t just be a flash in the pan as the word count is rising!
Snow crunched beneath my feet as I walked towards the church. A string of icicles hung from the Lychgate.
A world in white, silent, the snow lay untouched by others. I looked back at my footprints, melting pools of snow lay behind me.
Unlit houses dark against the white, no sign of life. I felt alone, abandoned in a strange place. I have no memory of passing this way before.
The church door stood ajar, inside I felt warmer, welcomed. The early morning light threw a kaleidoscope of colour across the pews. The tiled floor danced, shimmered with light. With the door being open, I didn’t think anyone would mind if I wandered around.
Three steps beneath the church lay the most beautiful room, lit by the light coming from the tall arched windows. I counted twelve pillars, covered in carvings of cherubs, grapes and strange winged creatures I had no name for.
My mind told me I should be afraid, but I felt at home. As I moved through the space, touching each pillar as I passed, a feeling of having touched them before filled my thoughts. Memories that cannot be mine.
I was there with six others, bare feet and long white dresses. What we were doing there was not revealed to me. I did not run from this place, for we were happy. That much was clear from the smiles and the sound of laughter.
These strange blue pillars seemed to hold some kind of attraction that kept us playing here long after we should have been home asleep in our beds.
I couldn’t wait to get back to the B&B to ask about the church. Fresh snow had fallen, stealing my footprints. As I walked through the Lychgate, I felt a shiver grip my body. I heard a voice in my head and knew it belonged to my grandmother Sarah. “Don’t look back…”
I knew the tone, she meant for me to obey so I did as she bid. Reaching the B&B, I asked about the church.
“You’re frozen, come sit by the fire…” The landlady led me to an armchair, and I sat.
“You have been outside for hours…” She put a hot cup of tea in my hands and told me there was no church here. “It burnt down more than 100 years ago. We almost sent out a search party to look for you.”
I looked at the clock on the mantle, I had been gone for four hours. I remembered leaving at ten o clock that morning. I told her she must be wrong; I was inside the church.
She patted my hand like an aged aunt and told me again how it burned down, taking six young lives, young girls about to take their first communion.
I could not speak to her. Ignoring my grandmother’s warning, I went straight back to retrace my steps, but I could not find the church. I did find the remains of a graveyard and seven headstones. Tears froze on my face as I read each name. My own stood out like neon, Sarah Wilkes, aged ten…
“Dead of Winter: Journey 10, Pergesca” resumes outside the Lost Library, where Hallgeir was faced with a decision that could impact the entire world. . Lucetius is gravely wounded when he attempts to deliver a message. Emlyn, Zasha, and Osabide are again separated from all their friends. The Three must continue their journey without assistance or protection from the other travellers. They must reach the faraway city of Pergesca. That is also the seat of power of the ancient Society of Deae Matres. Will the companions eventually be reunited? . A vicious enemy returns, displaying unexpected strength. . An important character dies in this novelette. The death of a character is a rare thing in stories written by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene.
Our Review
This enthralling story is gathering pace, and although things do seem promising, I doubt there can be a totally happy conclusion as there are too many opposing forces at work here.
Emlyn, in her innocence, cannot hope to compete with all the forces of evil that surround her.
Or can she?
The mysterious force that guides her is her only help. Thankfully, her companions have stopped treating her as a child, dismissing her adventures and intuitions, as they have begun to realise that a strong and powerful presence is guiding her.
Watching the fall of Haldis, someone I never completely trusted (I was with Emlyn with this one) I was impressed with the way the author handled this extraordinarily complex situation.
Throughout the episodes already visited and enjoyed, I have been enthralled, entertained and patient, waiting for the story to reveal its secrets, but as we near the end, the tension is becoming unbearable.
Can you wrap your body In another man’s shadow? Walk in his footsteps, Eventually taking over his life. Can you walk through London, New York, Tokyo, Moscow? Wondering what to do with the fourteen minutes to the hour that they have in common. What can you find out about yourself In such short a time? Does the completed hour Connect them in some unknown way? London would be ten o clock New York five o clock Tokyo seven o clock Moscow one o clock On the surface, it would appear not. Still, I wonder about the fourteen minutes between each city…
Kate Devereau wakes up in hospital unable to speak or move after the brutal attack by her ex-husband.
Her brain has shut down, refusing to acknowledge the misery of her dark and disturbing past.
A past that conceals a web of painful secrets.
Michael Barratt, Kate’s old flame, brought her to the hospital insisting that her ex-husband had tried to kill her
And from the state of him, had tried to kill him too.
With the help of DI David Snow, Kate will gradually piece her shattered life back together,
only to discover her nightmare is far from over.
Her first instinct is to run, but Snow convinces her to stay to help him put an end to the nightmare.
A nightmare that will get a lot worse before it gets better…
An excerpt from Out of Time
When he discovered Michael Barratt’s location, Snow didn’t have to ask what happened as the constable’s face said it all. A lovely shade of green was indicating the man was having trouble hanging on to his breakfast.
The churchyard resembled a scene from a horror movie with blood everywhere. The victim had been attacked from behind. A single knife wound to the neck, causing him to bleed out in a matter of seconds. What had possessed the man to leave the safety of the church? You had to wonder at his mental state, for he didn’t appear to have had a death wish.
Snow looked down at the man lying on the grass, an attractive man, despite the scar tissue and missing hair. He felt a little sorry for him, not for dying, but for spending too many years searching for Kate Devereau, only to fall flat at her unforgiving feet. He thought again about the other woman in his life and the child. Michael Barratt sure liked to complicate his life, but to what end? Still, the fight was over for him now.
The area behind the church had been checked as soon as the body was found, but there was no trace of Jack Holland. Snow wasn’t fooled, he had to be around there somewhere, as he wouldn’t rest until he had Kate Devereau in his clutches.
She almost knocked him down as he opened the door to the church. ‘Where is he?’ she said, trying to sidestep around him. He put his hands on her shoulders. ‘You cannot go out there, Kate. I will not allow it. You will have to say your goodbyes later.’
Her face contorted with either rage or upset, he couldn’t tell which. ‘He is dead, Kate. He went outside against our instructions and paid the ultimate price. At least it would have been quick …’
She started to walk backwards away from him, a stunned look on her face as the truth sank in. Snow caught the attention of a WPC and indicated Kate shouldn’t be left alone. He watched them walk away and wondered what would happen next. He tried to reach Jim Harris on his phone but there was no answer. He left a constable to guard the door and went to find him.
Snow marched around outside the church, looking for Jim Harris. He refused to consider losing anyone else. He was so angry, if he could get his hands on Jack Holland, they wouldn’t need to lock him up.
He found his sergeant checking the cars outside in the street. ‘You need to answer your phone, Jim before I have heart failure …’
‘Sorry, Boss, it must be on silent. Saw a man hanging around out here, so thought I’d check.’
‘Since when do you leave the scene of a crime, Jim, whatever the reason?’
A scream from inside the church drew their attention, and they hurried inside, expecting the worst. Kate and Sam were sitting on the floor in front of the altar, and Kate was the one who had screamed. Sam looked up as they approached and pointed towards the altar. ‘Present from Jack Holland …’
Snow had to look hard to recognise what had been left on the velvet altar cloth, and his heart sank when he realised what it was. Kate’s flowers were lying there, soaked with blood. The most obvious message from a killer, intended to strike fear into the soul of his next victim, and from the look on Kate Devereau’s face, it had worked…
Anita Dawes and Jaye Marie 