Author: Brit Lunden
Series: A Bulwark Anthology #9
Genre: Adult contemporary
Release Date: September 30th, 2019
Publisher: Chelshire
Synopsis:
Reporter Dayna Dalton's reputation has been ruined since
birth. The daughter of wild child, Becky Dalton, is expected to follow her
mother's footsteps; never given a chance to prove she's different. Dana's been
in love with Clay Finnes since she was a teenager. Her unrequited love for
Sheriff Finnes leaves her empty. He's happily married and unavailable. Instead,
Dayna finds herself stuck in the revolving door of bad relationships. But this
is Bulwark, Georgia, a town where strange things are always happening. Dayna is
doomed to this loveless life until she can find someone who will appreciate the
depth of her character. Can she overcome her fears and look beyond her own
perceptions to accept a greater love?
*Contains Sexual Content*
P R A I S E F O R T H E
B U L W A R K S E R I E S A N D B R I T L U N D E N
“If the Brothers
Grimm and Stephen King had co-authored a novella, Bulwark would be the result.
Lunden’s story is a modern, paranormal take on the classic Hansel and
Gretel.
If you like to
sleep with the light on after having the wits scared out of you, Bulwark is the
perfectread.”
~ BlueInk
Review (Bulwark)
“Bulwark is
all about the plot. Lunden keeps the narrative moving at a brisk pace,
introducing one catastrophe after another, only to delicately bring them all
together. Every character has a purpose; every line advances the story,
con-founds the reader, but offers necessary clues.”
~ BookTrib
(Bulwark)
“…jam-packed with
elements that will give readers the heebie-jeebies.”
~ Kirkus
(Bulwark)
“The novel is
very effective at creating atmosphere, conjur-ing a Gothic world populated by
monsters and the stuff of fairy tales.”
~ Joseph S.
Pete, Foreword Reviews (Bulwark)
Readers
who grew up with the likes of Barker, King and Lovecraft will have a field day
reading this classy, dark fan-tasy novella. And, yes, it’s that good. Lunden’s
plot is first-rate and her writing is smooth, assured and polished to a high
sheen. Bulwark is most highly recommended.”
~ Jack
Magnus for Readers’ Favorite,
5-Star Review,
(Bulwark)
“The engaging
tale’s centerpiece is the teens’ romance, with a Southern setting the author
masterfully captures...
The unadorned
prose and concise descriptions make for a quick read all the way to the
bittersweet ending...A short but undeniably charming love story.”
~ Kirkus Reviews(The Knowing)
Find it: Goodreads, Amazon, Kindle, Barnes and Noble,
TBD
Read for
free on KU!
Book Trailer:
Excerpt:
C H A P T E R 1
“I am good, but not an angel. I do sin, but I am not the
devil. I am just a small girl in a big world trying to find someone to love.”
~ Marilyn Monroe
The crisp, clear sunlight was not her friend.
Dayna Dalton winced at the bright light that squeezed in
through the slats of the venetian blind. She reached over and gave the cord a
hard tug, sending the pint-sized bathroom into near darkness. Behind her, the
shower head dripped with a steady plop, plop that reminded her of the exposé she did
on water torture in Guantanamo Bay that never got published. It was deemed too
harsh to print.
The Bulwark Advance
preferred her to write… fluffy pieces. She sneered thinking of the crap on her
computer, the half-written article about the elusive Easter Bunny that awaited
its final edit. She hung her head in shame, thinking of what her sorority
sisters from Georgetown would feel if they knew where Dangerous Dayna Dalton
had ended up. There’d be hell to pay in the form of eternal humiliation.
Dayna twisted the faucet, her freckled knuckle turning bone
white from the effort. It was no use; the leak continued relentlessly, driving
a hole in her throbbing head. Oh, that
last round of shots was totally not necessary.
No matter how hard she wrenched the faucet, the dribble
continued. She thought she should ask her guest to fix it before he left. He
was a plumber, after all. She was sick of this place. Dayna peered at her
reflection in the mirror. She was sick of her life.
Skip Benson’s bearlike yawn turned into a growl from the
bedroom. “Dayna.” His voice grated on her nerves.
Dayna rolled her kohl-smeared eyes.
“Dayna, come on back to bed.”
Dayna took a steadying breath and used both hands to grip
the sink as if it were holding her up. What was she thinking last night? Skip
Benson? How low could she go? A shudder ran through her lithe frame. That left
only Trout Parker, and she could now report she had officially and irrevocably
scraped the bottom of the barrel of Bulwark, Georgia.
She rubbed her forehead where a hammer banged against the
inside of her skull.
Skip wailed for her to return to the warmth of the bed.
Dayna wrinkled her nose, thinking about Skip’s performance, or rather what she
remembered about it. Oh yeah, too many
tequila shots will make anyone desirable,
even stupid Skippy Benson.
She ran her fuzzy tongue over her dry teeth, fighting the
urge to gag.
Skip Benson had never been on the football team, the basketball team…Hell, he’d never even
made the chess team. He had been the
school screw-up, and now he could brag
that he and Dayna had…
Dayna turned away from the mirror with disgust, her cheeks
flushing. She staggered to the doorway of
the bedroom. Using the frame to hold herself erect, she shouted, “Get
up!”
“Wha–?” Skip rose, the comforter bunched at his flabby waist, his chest bare and the pathetic
tattoo of a red devil across the front of his right bicep.
Vague memories of kissing that image flitted through her foggy brain. Dayna picked up a
pillow discarded on the floor during
their frenzied arrival and threw it at his head.
“I said, get up and get out of here!”
Skip ducked, then slid off the bed, his behind exposed,
another image of a werewolf on his left butt cheek. Dayna convulsed at a hazy
memory of talking to that tattoo.
“You weren’t so eager to get rid of me last night.” Skip
stood in all his naked glory, which wasn’t much.
“Ugh. I’m never drinking again,” Dayna muttered under her
breath. “I said get dressed and get out of
here.” A shoe sailed past Skip’s head.
Her unwanted guest scrambled to find his clothes.
“Hey, cut it out, Dayna!” Skip was living up to his namesake as he struggled into his work pants,
bouncing toward the door.
Dayna’s face split into a demonic smile that was known to strike fear in the hearts of single
men everywhere. Here, she thought, was the elusive Easter Bunny.
She watched Skip hop toward his escape as though he were in the Fourth of July potato sack race.
Dayna picked up a shirt that had been discarded on the floor
and threw it at him. The garment appeared to have a life of its own and
engulfed his head. Skip’s muffled cries were nearly smothered by the material.
His hands tore at the shirt to no avail.
His fingers—Dayna looked closer, grimacing at the dirt under his nails, and watched his
wrestling match with the clothing. She pushed him into her shabby living room, then out the door of her condo.
Mrs.
Sweetpea, an antonym for sure, watched in revulsion as Dayna
shoved her guest out of her apartment.
Dayna lived in Shady Oaks, a rundown condominium community,
where she reluctantly shared a front porch with her neighbor. The building was
a connected row of apartments that bordered undeveloped land, as though a
builder had left the project unfinished halfway through. It was hot real estate
when they released the first phase, and half the town bought investment
properties. Then the real estate bubble burst, and the whole thing came
tumbling down.
Dayna had an inside scoop about what was really going on,
but once again, the paper wouldn’t print it.
The mayor had sold the land and gotten a back-end deal for
it. He made a ton of dough and then skipped off to Colombia—the country, not
Columbia, South Carolina. The builder had used inferior products, and once he
went to jail for money laundering, the whole place went to seed. There was no
one to call when things broke.
Dayna cast Mrs. Sweetpea a jaundiced eye, daring the nosy
neighbor to say something about her guest.
While the old crone might have appeared to be like the
proverbial sweet grandmotherly type, Dayna knew her to be an ornery bitch with
a sting as sharp as an angry wasp.
She hated her; had for years. Thelma Sweetpea had been her
babysitter back in the day when she was a small child. Dayna’s mother had
dropped her off at the old lady’s house for the first nine years of her life.
Dayna looked at Mrs. Sweetpea and shivered. The old woman
had moved into the complex a year and a half ago, cutting up Dayna’s peace.
What were the odds they’d end up living next door to each other? She was a mean
old woman, and Dayna felt judged every time those beady eyes settled on her.
Dayna considered moving but was so underwater with her
mortgage, she couldn’t think of selling. She was stuck at Shady Oaks, and she
was stuck with the prying eyes of Thelma Sweetpea.
Mrs. Thelma Sweetpea took out her aggression with a broom
and started to sweep as though the hounds of hell had just taken a shit there.
Dayna fought the urge to say something. Speaking with Mrs. Sweetpea usually
ended up in a hissing contest. Dayna’s compressed lips turned up just a bit
with a smile at the result of this morning meeting. Mrs. Sweetpea was in a
frenzy of spring cleaning, as if she could wipe the interlopers from reality.
The sky was overcast, and even though it was springtime, the
air was decidedly chilly. A wave of cold air stole under Dayna’s shirt, making
it billow out. She tried not to shiver. Her bare feet felt the shock of the
freezing concrete. She’d be damned if she would show that old biddy any
weakness, even if it was unseasonably cold.
Dayna looked up at the watery sky, searching for a glimpse
of the sun. Global warming was playing havoc with Georgia’s weather. Either it
was extremely hot when it was supposed to be cold or freezing when the time of
year dictated heat. It didn’t rain anymore; it stormed with funnel clouds that
touched down, ripping homes and trailers from their moorings.
Mrs. Sweetpea stopped her sweeping to look at Dayna, her
lips pursed as if she’d eaten something
sour. Dayna returned the stare, her eyes observing the
wrinkled face, watching the older woman judge her half-naked form.
Dayna’s freckled shoulder peeked out from an over-sized tee
shirt. It was paired with her long, bare, coltish legs underneath. Dayna looked
down and cursed when she realized she was wearing Skip’s tee. Glancing up, she
realized he was struggling with her
shirt from last night.
Watching her neighbor’s shocked face, Dayna ripped Skip’s
shirt over her head and tossed it to him. He paused in his scuffle with her
clothing to admire her perfect breasts.
“I don’t have to leave,” Skip said with a broad smile.
“Oh yes you do, and don’t come back here.” Dayna turned
around, her shoulders straight. She paused to look at the older woman, who
stood with her jaw hanging in shock.
“Have you no shame?” Thelma Sweetpea sputtered.
Dayna looked back at the gawking plumber, then her
scandalized neighbor. She shrugged indifferently.
“Apparently I have no shame at all.”
About the Author:
Giveaway:
- 3 winners will receive a finished copy of THE DEVIL AND DAYNA DALTON, US Only.
- 1 winner will receive a $25 Amazon GC, International.
a Rafflecopter giveaway
Tour Schedule:
Week
One:
11/4/2019
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Excerpt
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11/4/2019
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Excerpt
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11/5/2019
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Excerpt
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11/5/2019
|
Review
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11/6/2019
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Review
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11/6/2019
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Review
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11/7/2019
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Review
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11/7/2019
|
Review
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11/8/2019
|
Review
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11/8/2019
|
Excerpt
|
Week
Two:
11/11/2019
|
The
Phantom Paragrapher
|
Review
|
11/11/2019
|
Delilah
Bluette
|
Review
|
11/12/2019
|
Don't
Judge, Read
|
Review
|
11/12/2019
|
Good
Choice Reading
|
Excerpt
|
11/13/2019
|
Books a
Plenty Book Reviews
|
Review
|
11/13/2019
|
Burgandy
Ice
|
Excerpt
|
11/14/2019
|
Reese's
Reviews
|
Review
|
11/14/2019
|
Owl
Always Be Reading
|
Excerpt
|
11/15/2019
|
Lisa Loves
Literature
|
Excerpt
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11/15/2019
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Parajunkee
|
Excerpt
|
Julie Kenner (aka J. Kenner and J.K. Beck) is the New York Times, USA Today, Publishers Weekly, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author of over forty novels, novellas and short stories in a variety of genres.
