Dane Cobain

No Rest for the Wicked
(supernatural thriller)
When the Angels attack, there’s NO REST FOR THE WICKED.
Father Montgomery, an elderly priest with a secret past, begins to investigate after his parishioners come under attack, and with the help of Jones, a young businessman with an estranged child, Montgomery begins to track down the origin of the Angels.
When Jones himself is attacked, Father Montgomery knows he has to act fast. He speaks to the Angels and organises a final showdown where he’s asked to make the ultimate sacrifice. 

Eyes Like Lighthouses When the Boats Come Home
Eyes Like Lighthouses is Dane Cobain’s first book of poetry, distilled from the sweat of a thousand memorised performances in this reality and others. It’s not for the faint-hearted. 
“I’ve never seen anyone do a stream of consciousness piece as talented as that. Very impressed.” – Mark Allard-Will, author of Saskatch-A-Man and co-founder of Cuckoo’s Nest Press 

Former.ly: The Rise and Fall of a Social Network
(literary fiction) 
When Dan Roberts starts his new job at Former.ly, he has no idea what he's getting into. The site deals in death - its users share their innermost thoughts, which are stored privately until they die. Then, their posts are shared with the world, often with unexpected consequences. 
But something strange is going on, and the site's two erratic founders share a dark secret. A secret that people are willing to kill for. 


Becca Taylor

Will Alyssa ever look at Bentley as more than just a friend? What will it take for to her realize her missing peace is only steps away?

Get your copy today for only #99cents or #FreeInKindleUnlimited #KU #FindingPeace #Alyssa #Bentley #BeccaTaylor


Paul Lonardo

My disappointment quickly turned to delight when I saw the tall, broad figure that cut through the steam in the room. I knew it was Kenny right away.
“I had to see you.” Kenny’s voice boomed like thunder in my ears, making my body shudder.
“How did you—” I could not finish what I was going to say before Kenny crossed the room to the bathtub in three strides and gently put the tips of two fingers against my lips. “Sh-hhhhh.”
The sibilating sound lulled me back into tranquility. He slowly ran the fingers of his right hand along my jawline to my ear and then down the nape of my neck, he did the same with his tongue on the other side of my face. I shivered even in the heat of the steaming bath water. Cupping the sides of my face in his hands, he drew his head toward me and kissed me deeply.
With his lips pressed firmly against mine, I placed both my hands around the back of his neck. He straightened up and lifted me right out of the tub. Naked and dripping, I wrapped my legs around his waist, and he never stopped kissing me the entire time, sucking and biting delicately on the soft skin of my lower lip. It made me crazy.
His exposed chest hair bristled across my nipples, arousing me further. I opened my mouth and his tongue began to flick back and forth across mine. It was a sensuous imitation of a more intimate act, and I was sure he knew it as was well as I did. With his thick shaft in his pants pressed against my bare pussy, I felt a now-familiar rush of warmth between my legs. When I began to grind myself against him, his cock began to grow. And grow.
Oh, my God! I thought. Courtney was right. The thing was huge.
Holding me in his powerful embrace, he let one of his hands drop slowly down the side of my body, tracing the arch of my hip and then reaching underneath me to massage the swell of my buttocks. Several of his long fingers wandered down further and touched me in a place that no man had touched me in a long time. As he lightly probed the outer rim of my anus with his index and middle fingers, I let out a moan.
I felt the sensation of moving again, but this time it wasn’t vertigo. Kenny carried me effortlessly out of the bathroom and into the adjoining bedroom where he eased me down onto the white down duvet cover. He was standing over me as I sat up and reached for his shirt. I pulled on the leather lacing that bound the cowhide to his body and loosened it until the material hung from his shoulders in two pieces. Kenny shrugged the remains off, exposing his naked torso.
His pants moved in front of me, as if there was something alive in there.



Anais Torres

The Reaper's Daughter by [Torres, Anais]

Book Synopsis:
Contrary to popular belief, serial killers aren't usually loners. In fact, many of history's most notorious murderers had spouses and children. 

Eight-teen-year-old Emma Wolf is haunted by the victims of her father's crimes. She constantly feels like she’ll never be part of this world, but just a spectator watching normal people go about their lives. She couldn't go back and make amends for her father’s crimes. She thought she had things figured out: join a few good causes, be a good girl, eat all her vegetables. Never lose control. 

So when her aunt finds out she's been invited to join the kid's from her local church for a week-long trip to South Padre Island, she pushes Emma to go. Why else would she - the most socially awkward, fact spewing outcast - spend the first week of summer with a bunch of kids, who she has nothing in common with? 

So much for not losing control.


Jennifer Reynolds Day 5

Chapter 1


“Do you have any idea what you’re looking for?” the receptionist of Smith County Animal Clinic and
Shelter asks as I step up to the counter and tell her that I am looking for a new pet.

“I would like to adopt a kitten, but I’ll look at any older cats if you don’t have any babies,” I tell her in my quiet, self-conscious voice. Every time I open my mouth to speak to someone I don’t know or someone who, for some irrational reason intimidates me, I’m scared I’m going to stammer or stutter or fumble my words and sound like an uneducated woman that I know I’m not. This fear causes me to speak slowly and softly.
Immediately embarrassed by my tone, I cut my eyes down to the counter. I’m a grown woman. I shouldn’t be this unsure of myself.

“All right, give me one moment to see what we have,” the brunette says and turns to face her computer.

Nodding my head, I look around the office wondering why I am here. Out of nowhere this morning, I
woke with a need to adopt another cat. I’ve had Sebastian, my Calico, for a year and a half now. We get along fine with each other. He seems content with being an only cat. Yet, for some reason, when I got up this morning, I felt the need to find him a companion. I’m not prone to psychic powers or precognition—if such things exist, and I tend to feel they might—so I’m not sure where this need came from or even why I am indulging in said need. I couldn’t stifle the feeling, the determination to put off work for a little while and drive to the shelter.

I have only a slight tendency toward impulsive shopping. However, for something this big—not that
getting a cat is like buying a new car—I normally make myself seriously think about the purchase for a few days, even a week, before actually making it. My compulsion to over-think things is why I can’t figure out how I ended up here at the shelter ready to pick up a new pet. My better judgment should have kicked in before I even got in the car, especially after talking to my sister.

“You aren’t turning into the creepy cat lady, are you?” Carrie, my younger sister, asked when I told her my plan this morning when she called for our daily chat. She usually calls me as she heads home from dropping her kids off at school. I take her call as my wake up call for the day. However, this morning I was already up, eating a cup of yogurt, and drinking a glass of milk when my cell began singing The Door’s “People Are Strange.”

“Two cats aren’t going to make me the creepy cat lady,” I argued, rinsing my milk cup and putting it into my dishwasher. “Besides, who are you to talk? You have two dogs and three cats. You are closer to being the creepy cat lady than I am.”

“Hold up. One, I have three kids who love animals. Two, all of my pets are outdoor pets. Three, one of those dogs and two of those cats are merely strays I feed because if I don’t the kids throw a fit.” Her voice sounded strange and distracted as she said the last bit, and I knew that she had switched her attention from me to the road.

For a brief second, I thought about fussing at her for talking while driving, but we’ve had this argument many times before and nothing has changed. She continues to talk while driving, never mind the laws against such things. I know her Bluetooth lets her talk without holding a phone to her ear, but it still bothers me. I refuse to be on my phone while driving, no matter the distance of my drive, or who is on the phone. She, on the other hand, would talk, text, and take pictures all while driving if she could figure out how to do it without wrecking her car.

I’ve had people suggest that I not answer the phone when she calls, but that doesn’t work. She’ll blow my phone up until I answer, or she will show up on my doorstep worried out of her mind that something has happened to me. More than a few times, she has chewed my ass for scaring her. No, answering her call is easier.

“Strays, huh,” I said a few seconds later when I knew most of her attention was focused on me again.

“You don’t take strays to the vet to get them fixed.”

“Hey, it’s in everyone’s best interest to fix roaming animals. Half of those animals starve and so do their offspring. I did them a favor by having them fixed.”

“Whatever. They are still not strays,” I said, laughing at her denial.

“You know, you should really find yourself a boyfriend instead of another cat,” she threw out in a voice that suggested she had been waiting for an opportunity to bring the subject up again.

Damn it. The joys of being close to your siblings. They just love poking sleeping bears. One of these days, this sleeping bear is going snap her hand off if she doesn’t let it lie.

“Thanks,” I said sarcastically. “So do you,” I muttered, hoping she didn’t hear my lame-ass retort.

“What? You know you do. You’ve been alone a long time. Too long actually,” she said, ignoring said
lame-ass retort because she didn’t want to go down that road at all.

“I’m well aware of how long I’ve been alone,” I said with a growl. “Trust me. The empty battery packs in the trash can by my bed tell me exactly how long I’ve been alone.” Ha, I knew alluding to sex would shut her the hell up.

“T.M.I,” she shouted, and I heard her remove her earpiece in case I decided to expound a little more on what those batteries operate. I could tell she did this because the overly exaggerated gagging noises she made sounded muffled. I laughed at her. Score one for me.

“We’re not having this conversation,” she said, coming back to the line a near full minute later. “Look,

I’m just saying you’re turning into a recluse. You take classes on-line. You work on-line. Hell, you even shop on-line. And that last one is so not natural. You need to get out. Meet people. Meet men. You need to get laid. Badly.”

Another conversation we’ve had too many times. Let the sleeping bear lie already. I’m fine. I like my life.  My life is safe, quiet, and drama-free. Why can’t she see this? I sighed, and then wondered if I really am that sad? I don’t feel that sad.

You would think that the hell I went through in my last relationship would warrant a get-out- of-jail- free card when it came to such conversations. I mean, it isn’t as if I kept any aspect of that abuse secret, especially after I left him. Everyone knows about the beatings I took, the verbal attacks I suffered through on a daily basis. Yeah, I tried to hide them, but people knew. My many trips to the E.R. were a dead giveaway. Even his parents knew what he was doing to me. His mother rushed me to the hospital one night when he sliced open my leg with a knife because I wasn’t getting ready to leave fast enough. That was all the help I got from them.
The entire way to the hospital, his mother begged me not to press charges. Later that night, he gave me a black eye because his dad chewed his ass over what he had done to me.

Not to mention the fact that my sister and my best friend Crystal are extremely observant people. I can’t count the number of times they called the police on my ex when I wouldn’t. They weren’t here every time he put me down, told me I was worthless, criticized everything I did, shoved tooth picks into my arm, burned the tips of my toes with a lighter because I let my toe nails grow too long, the days I went without food because he said I was getting too fat or the days he did nothing but shove food down my throat because I was too skinny. They weren’t here for many things, but he didn’t hide who he was either. Although no one but me will ever know how bad he tortured me, and I mean that in the most literal of senses, they were still privy to many things.

What amazes me is that they couldn’t figure out why I stayed. I mean it was obvious…wasn’t it? Fear. I knew if I had left that man, he would have killed me, or someone else I hold dear, and I couldn’t have that.
The second thing that amazes me is that they think it should be easy for me to find another man, to trust another person in my life after that. I don’t know that I could ever do it again.

I’m aware of how damaged I am because of that man. I’m trying to be better, trying to work through my issues. He put all the fucked up thoughts that run through my head on a daily basis there. I understand that, but when you have things like that drilled into you, no matter how hard you try not to believe them, you can’t shake them. When I look at myself, I see the person he said I was. The image is permanently stuck there.

How I managed to pull myself out of that situation is beyond me. I don’t think I would have if he hadn’t gone out of town for a week and made the mistake of leaving me by myself. If he hadn’t been completely wasted and at the whim of his friends, he wouldn’t have left me. When I realized he was five states away and that I could move without him knowing anything about it, I did. To ensure my safety and the safety of those around me, I took all of the degrading pictures he had taken of me as proof of his abuse in case he ever tried to come for me.

Even with that, if he hadn’t died three months later of an overdose, I’d probably be back with him. I
know me.

“That’s pretty easy to say coming from someone who looks like you,” I finally replied, forcing myself away from that line of thinking, unable to stop the hint of fear and anger tinting my voice. Some days all it takes is a single word to send me back there.

I also had to stop myself from sounding petty and jealous. My sister doesn’t have a perfect life, I know this, but the fact that she has the house with the white picket fence, the three wonderful children, and gets enough in child support and alimony that she won’t have to work another day until her kids are off to college, and by then she’ll have another husband or two does at times make me forget the life she has led.

“You could leave your house in hot rollers and a muumuu and have three phone numbers plus a marriage proposal before you leave the yard—all from men who are simply driving down your road on their way to work. I, on the other hand, would be paid to go back inside, lock the door, and to stay there forever.” Yep, there was that hint of jealousy and bitterness I need to work on. Sometimes, no matter how hard I try, there is no way for me hide my feelings.

See, my little sister, who is only two years younger than I am, mind you, not only has the perfect life, but she is nearly five foot eight and weighs probably a hundred and twenty-five, a hundred and thirty pounds. She has perfect perky “C” cups and legs that go on for miles. Her hair is light brown and wavy. She isn’t Angelina Jolie beautiful but damn near it. Her skin is smooth as a baby’s ass. Her teeth are perfect, not that they have always been that way. My parents paid good money for her to have teeth that perfect. Okay, here I’m being unfair. My teeth and complexion are just as perfect as hers are. God really blessed us with acne-free skin.

“Stop it. You know that isn’t so. Okay, I’ll admit that you’re a little overweight…” Only your sister would willingly say something like that to you face-to- face, or, well, phone-to- phone. If she were here, it would be face-to- face; I’ve no doubt. The bitch has no qualms about calling things as she sees them. I still love her.

“A little, my ass,” I snapped, wanting to be the one who calls me fat. I can handle facing my weight
problem if I’m the one who brings it up. “I won’t even tell you how much weight I’ve gained in the last two years.”

“That’s no one’s fault but your own.” My honest, bitch of sister, everyone. Give it up for her. She holds nothing back; my feelings be damned. “You keep yourself locked in your house with no source of exercise at all. Losing the weight you’ve gained wouldn’t take much, if you try. You don’t even attempt to walk past your mailbox three times a week. You sit in front of a computer twenty-four- seven. Of course, you’re going to be out of shape and overweight.”

The thing is that I can’t even get mad at her. That’s a lie, I can, and I wanted to snatch her scrawny ass through the phone and strangle her, so I kept reminding myself that I love my sister. I do. I love her. Really. But it isn’t as if she is wrong.

“Says the person with three kids who only weighs one hundred and ten pounds,” I interrupted her,
undershooting her weight because I knew it would annoy her and distract her from discussing my weight.

“Exaggerate much? I weigh more than that, and you and I both know it. Besides, if you had my kids,
you’d weigh nothing as well. All I do is chase them around the house. When I do get time to sit and eat, there’s always someone wanting a bite of what I’m eating. I don’t see how any mother of three is

“Whatever,” I said with nothing else to come back with. “Look, let me call you back later. I’m getting in the car.”

While we’d talked, I had finished my breakfast and dressed in the most comfortable, not at all form-fitting, pair of gray, cotton yoga pants and a black, long-sleeve thermal to wear to the shelter.

“You know you can talk to me while you’re driving,” Carrie said with a hint of annoyance in her voice.

“No, I can’t. I don’t have that Bluetooth thing you have that lets you talk while having your hands free.  Even with it, I wouldn’t talk to you while on the road, and you shouldn’t be talking to me…but I digress.”   Some arguments aren’t worth having.

“Your life is tame compared to mine.” She said this with a bit of sadness in her voice as if this were a bad thing.

I rejoice in how stress-free my life is compared to hers. Yeah, a part of me would like to have one or two little poop-machines giggling on my living room floor, but that is the only part of her life I wish I had. The baby-daddy drama would piss me off and drive me to drinking.

“And that’s just the way I like it,” I said back with a smile in my voice. “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” she replied, and we hung up.

We never say goodbye. I’m not sure why. We just never do. I think it has to do with the fact that goodbye is such a permanent word. She doesn’t like anything that alludes to death or permanent separation. To her, saying goodbye to someone means that she will never speak to or see that person again, so she can’t bring herself to say the words. I think this has to do with the fact that when she was sixteen, Mom dropped her on my doorstep and said goodbye. We haven’t heard from her since.


“All right, we have two litters right now. None of which are ready to leave their mother. If you want, you can lay claim to one and take it home in a few weeks,” the receptionist says, effectively pulling me out of my thoughts as she comes around to my side of the counter to lead me to the room in which they keep the cats.

“I was really hoping to go home with something today,” I tell her with a hint of disappointment in my

voice. I hadn’t meant to sound so disappointed. I could come back another day, no problem, but for some reason, I really want a new cat today.

“The only other one we have is a foundling that showed up on our doorstep this morning. He isn’t a baby, but he looks to only be about three or four months old.”

“Can I see him?” My God, the desperation in my voice is annoying even to me. The receptionist gives me a ‘psycho much’ look. In return, I try to give her a sheepish ‘I’m sorry for being weird’ smile.

“Yeah,” she says, a little unsure if she really should allow me around the animals. “They just placed him in a cage. He didn’t have any fleas or any other physical or medical problems when we brought him in, but we always do a once over and give them a bath before putting them in with the other animals.”

I followed the woman through a set of double doors to the right of the information counter. The other set of double doors on the left led to the hospital part of the building. Smith County is where I purchased Sebastian. I prefer adopting from the shelter because I like knowing that I’m adopting an animal that the doctors have examined. I’m not opposed to strays. I just prefer adopting my animals. I like feeling as if I’m saving one from death when I adopt.

Dr. Smith, Sebastian’s doctor and one of the head doctors here at the shelter, promised me when I asked one time that they never put their animals to sleep unless they medically have to do so. I’m not sure I really believe her.

The other reason I like adopting from this particular shelter is the discounts on vaccines and procedures you get if you adopt from them. I’m not a Scrooge, but I’m not made of money either. Half price on spaying or neutering isn’t something I’m going to pass up.

I follow the woman into a large room lined wall-to- wall with cages. The dogs immediately start barking, reminding me of why I dislike them so much. The noise is deafening, causing my head to ache. Great, that’s all I need. I can’t afford to spend the rest of the day in bed with a headache.

“Here he is,” she says, stopping in front of one the cages halfway down an aisle.

I’m in love the moment I see him.


Sue Lloyd Day 5

Chapter 2 excerpt – I don’t want to go too far into the book because it may give the story away!

Chapter 2
Mallory jumped so hard onto her sister’s bed that Mystic took a tumble onto the floor. She quickly retrieved the somewhat impassive unicorn and gave it back to Cassie.
“How are you, sis?”
She planted a big wet kiss on Cassie’s nose and threw her arms around her neck. She was happy to see her little sister but the over-enthusiastic hug did nothing to quell the sea of nausea, nor the headache, which niggled away at her brain. Mallory’s lips looked shiny. Cassie quizzed her
“Mallory, do you have my angel lip gloss on?”
At nine years old, Mallory was used to taking fashion tips from her big sister and lip gloss was one of her new discoveries. It was far safer than the mascara that she poked her eye with and the gloss tasted like cherries. She looked down, guiltily licking her lips to remove the evidence. Cassie smiled as she added,
“It’s OK, sis. You can keep that one. I saw another on TV earlier. I think it’s a Little Mix one. Mom, can I buy it when I’m out of here please?”

A post by me:

Sue Lloyd is officially addicted to writing!

Having relocated from the UK to Germany during the summer of 2015, I started working on a novel that I began to write over fifteen years ago.

I’m an unashamed people watcher and have a fascination with psychology. My passion for both enables me to add meat and bones to the characters who are smart enough to escape the confines of my imagination.

I love to read original fiction and enjoy the sort of book you can curl up with on a rainy day and devour. My primary aim in writing is to draw the reader into the story.

I want to take you on a journey you will remember long after you have read the last words.

What is my recipe for a good book?

Strong characters, a believable plot and an oversized dollop of humour.

Cassie’s Hope is my second novel, and my first attempt at writing in the YA genre. I thoroughly enjoyed connecting with my ‘inner teenager’ to produce this book.

Favourite Author - Mo Hayder. Scares the 'you know what' out of Sue.
Favourite Food - Anything that doesn't run off the plate. 
Favourite Movie - One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest.
Likes - Writing, Reading, Travel, Keep Fit, Jelly Beans, Eating Out, Eating In (My partner in crime is a fabulous cook), Gin, Wine, Bourbon.
Hates - Inconsiderate people, War, Tripe - NO, JUST NO!


Sue Lloyd

A gentle but strong, brave and compassionate story that tugs at the heartstrings. Young Adult writing at it's best.

Can an adorable beagle change the lives of everyone she meets?

Hope rises like a phoenix from the ashes of shattered dreams ”" S. A. Sachs
Cassie Larimer is fourteen years old. She was diagnosed with leukaemia just one year ago and her world has since changed forever.
Hope is a five-year-old beagle. She is testing a second-generation leukaemia drug at Morton Animal Research Centre (MARC)
Alice Anders is a news anchor for NOW! She conducts a live report from MARC one day which profoundly affects many of the people who witness the virtual tour.
Cassie Larimer was one of the viewers that day as she watched from her hospital bed.
Something magical happens when Cassie sets eyes on Hope for the first time. She feels a psychic bond with this charming little dog and sets out on a mission to rescue her from certain doom.
Will Cassie be able to keep her promise?
Meet Hope. She is no ordinary dog and will touch your heart too.

Buy your very own copy today!

Link to buy - getBook.at/CHSL


Sue Lloyd Day 4

Here is our JBR interview with Sue Lloyd.

First why don't you tell us a little about yourself?
There’s a lot to me so I’ll cut to the chase. I’m a mother to four wonderful children and a partner to one. I’ve been lucky enough to relocate from the UK to Germany in the summer of 2015, and it’s opened up a whole new world to me. Having worked in customer service all my life I’ve taken a career change since relocating and have been writing full time. It all started in the mid-nineties when I started to write ‘the book we all have in us.’ I never finished it but never forgot it either. Last summer I began to write again and my debut, Delsey Prodigal was born. I’ve since written two other novels, Cassie’s Hope and my latest book The Diary Of Harri Foxx.
Personal interests include writing, reading, travel, good food, nice wine, art. Oh, and I have an addiction to a certain famous brand of Jelly Beans.

Newest release?
The Diary Of Harri Foxx will be my next release. It’s edited and ready to go. Prepare yourself for the ride.

What can we expect from your stories, action, drama, romance, sex, blood and guts?
I’ve been lucky to write in a number of genres. Coming of Age, YA & Adult Contemporary Fiction. Each book has its trademark. I am an observer of life so you can expect believable characters to begin with. I promise each book I write will bring highs and lows, laughter and tears. It’s the life I know. Yes, there is drama, action, romance and sex. I’ll leave the blood and guts to the authors who I like to read.

Do you have a favorite character in your stories? Who? and Why?
I adore Baggy from my debut novel, Delsey Prodigal. He is a side character but has impacted each person who has read my book because of his simple but hilarious attitude to life. Diamond in the rough is very apt.

Give us an interesting fun fact or a few about your book or series:
My latest book, The Diary Of Harri Foxx exposes a more personal side of me than any of my other books. It was harrowing to write, and I wasn’t sure I would reach the end. I did, and I have to say the result is one of which I am proud.

Has there been any other authors who have inspired your work or helped you out with your stories?
Yes. Fiona Barton’s, The Widow, inspired me to write in the first person for The Diary Of Harri Foxx. I found it very liberating.

What can readers who enjoy your book do to help make it successful?
Please review any my books if you have enjoyed it. You have no idea how much of a difference it makes to an author. Even one line!

Do you have any tips for readers or advice for other writers trying to get published?
Yes. Absorb all the wise words your peers will offer. I’ve been fortunate to have made a number of Twitter friends who have been incredibly supportive to me. It’s not easy being a writer, but it’s so rewarding.

Do you have a favorite author? If yes, what draws you to that person’s work?
I love Mo Hayder. I was lucky enough to catch her from the outset and have read every one of her books. Mo writes about things that I could not contemplate in my wildest imagination. She’s a smart cookie, and her books are page turners.

Can you remember one of the first things you wrote? What makes it memorable?
I have to refer to starting Delsey Prodigal. The book was titled ‘Small Town Prodigal’ then. There was something remarkable about seeing my title on my ancient computer. It was the beginning of a new venture. Boy, has it stayed with me.

Where do you gather most of the inspiration for your work?
I gather inspiration from life. Being a people watcher makes inspiration flow like a waterfall. I have so many interesting characters to share in the future.

Do you have any other interesting hobbies, pets or stories you would like to share?
I love the outdoors. Living in Germany has opened up a whole new horizon for me to explore. I don’t have any pets, and you’ll find my interesting stories in my books!  Go me.

Favorite places to travel or visit?
I enjoyed Morocco very much. My senses went off the scale when visiting. I’m a spice fiend, and the souks were just incredible.

And now, before you go, how about a snippet from your book that is meant to intrigue and tantalize us: ( Include links to were we can find your work)

So, an excerpt from the beginning chapter of Cassie’s Hope where our reporter, Alice visits the Biomedical Research Lab for the first time. I’ve had some very touching feedback about the way I handled this book. It’s a tough subject that had me in tears. Yes, I have a heart.

Alice scanned the room. It was noisier than the section where the fish and rodents were. The only sound in there was the beep of machinery, the bubbling of air in the fish tank and the spinning of the wheels as the mice and rats enjoyed their daily exercise. In here there were vocals, barking in particular. The „woofs‟ appeared to offer a welcome to the strange visitors. There was also a distinctly stronger smell in here. Alice took the decision to withhold the “smellovision‟ as she addressed the camera, her wide eyes and glossy lips filling the screen.
“So here we are in the section that houses the dogs. Herb, can you tell us a little about these gorgeous creatures?”
Herb cleared his throat with a nervous cough then knelt down and leant against one of the pens.
“Well, these are our beagles.”
The emphasis was on the word „our‟ and it appeared to be a conscious attempt to sound more personal. The camera panned down to show the first dog as Herb put his fingers through the bars of the pen.
Cassie leant further forward in her bed and smiled as the dog proceeded to lick Herb’s hand. His tail was now wagging enthusiastically at the unexpected visit. Herb smiled into the camera.
“This is Archie. Say hello to the viewers, Archie.”
The dog barked and Herb chuckled then continued,
“Archie has been with us a couple of years. He’s a great character, which is in keeping with this fantastic breed of dog. The fact is we choose to work with beagles, as do many scientists, because of their gentle and passive nature. They don’t bite and are super-forgiving animals.”
Alice poked her fingers through the bars. He looked healthy enough and the cage was clean and a fair size, maybe six square meters with a slope leading to an upper platform with a chew toy dangling from a chain.
“He’s adorable.”
She turned to the camera, addressing the viewers.
“I bet every one of you is cooing over this boy.”
Cassie nodded in agreement. Archie was very cute and she didn’t like to see him locked up.
Alice questioned Herb further.
“So, for our viewers out there who know little or nothing about what goes on here at MARC, can you give us some further information, Herb?”
“Well, we have a team of dog breeders who supply us with our beagles for medical research.”
Alice interrupted.
“So the dogs‟ sole purpose for being born is to assist in medical research?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
Cassie put her hand up to her mouth. It deeply upset her hearing that. Being in hospital on and off during the past year for treatment was hard enough. The man on the TV was suggesting that the beagles stayed there, lived there and eventually died there.
Alice stopped Cassie’s train of thought from going any further as she continued.
“I need to get my head around your last comment, Herb. So what you are saying is that you have breeders who supply the dogs, which then live all their earthly days out in a confined pen. Albeit a decent environment, it’s not exactly running in the fields chasing a ball, is it?”
Herb was calm as he stood up then moved along towards another pen.
“Our dogs are very well looked after as you can see. Each one has sufficient space in the pen, which is also equipped to offer some stimulation. Each one is assigned a carer who walks them so they get socialized and can interact with other dogs. They have exercise twice a day and are also fed a nutritious diet that covers the basic needs of a hound.”
He paused, stopping at the next dog.
“This is Sabre.”
Another pair of gentle eyes greeted them.
“Hello, old boy. Sabre is our veteran. He is eight years old, hence the George Clooney silver muzzle.”
Sabre wagged his tail at the acknowledgement.
Alice followed Herb as he carried on.
“And this is Hope.”
A large black gumdrop nose filled the TV screen then as the camera focused out; two beautiful big hazel eyes looked full on into the lens.


Links to book getBook.at/CHSL

Readers’ Favorite – Five star review - https://readersfavorite.com/book-review/cassies-hope

Author webpage – AuthorSueLloyd.com

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