Kidnapped by supernatural beings, and forced to face his inner demons, can Andres summon the strength to save himself?
Mike snapped awake, his knuckles almost as white as the sheets he clutched, his whole body covered in a cold sweat. Falling. He’d reached out for the handkerchief, his foot had slipped, and this time, his training hadn’t helped him—he’d plummeted straight toward the concrete. He could swear he’d felt the beginning of the impact just before he woke. His gut felt twisted and gnarled.
The chopper shaped motorcycle alarm clock flashed three-thirty and the morning air was cold enough to form. . .
Okay! We have managed to hit over 100 unique readers! In celebration, I've had some tacos, and everyone gets a chapter 4. A shorter chapter, but that's because it sets up something awesome for chapter 5. The final one I'll be releasing over this contest.
Thank you so much for your support so far. Some news of events: I am going to a convention this Sunday: Lake Count-I-Con to do an interview and talk to the guys at http://popculthq.com/.
I've also written a blog post about world building that is coming out shortly with: https://epicfantasywriter.wordpress.com/
Now, one awesome thing to remember is that I have more than just a book idea. If I win this contest, I'm already ready to go after I get this thing copy edited.
I know many of you might be thinking. "Rick... you mention tacos. Yet we have seen no tacos in this book so far." Fear not friends. Fear not.
If you could be so kind. Send me any reviews you have and I can post them on the front page. Also, any direct people you know that like dry humor urban fantasy that has lots of conspiracy. Please, direct message them or ask them to check this out. Lastly, any shares, tweets, or any IDEAS you have on how I can start reaching out to other people in the world without violating the rules of internet etiquette let me know!
The adrenaline caused his heart to race faster as sweat endeavored to form on his face, only to be whisked away by the cold winds of the creeping November winter in Chicago. Twenty-one floors high, Mike Auburn stood on a six-inch I-beam looking at the city below him. The sun, blood-red on the horizon, added a grim look to the city when mixed with the swaths of people leaving their daily jobs. Go back home to your reality TV and frozen pizza. Mike thought.
I’m out here for a reas. . .
The adrenaline caused his heart to race faster as sweat endeavored to form on his face, only to be whisked away by the cold winds of the creeping November winter in Chicago. Twenty-one floors high, Mike Auburn stood on a six-inch I-beam looking at the city below him. The sun, blood-red on the horizon, added a grim look to the city when mixed with the swaths of people leaving their daily jobs. Go back home to your reality TV and frozen pizza. Mike thought.
I’m out here for a reas. . .
