Sunday, February 3, 2019

WMSBW Official Promo Video (PLUS a SNEAK PEAK of what's to come...)


Happy Sunday! What's new with y'all? 
As for me, I'm excited to share with you guys the OFFICIAL PROMO video for When My Soul Bleeds Words! 

If you haven't checked out the book yet, it's available on Amazon and my website

IN OTHER NEWS...
Have you read my historical fiction novel, The Rebels of Florida? (if not, here's the Amazon link)
So, if you have read it, you know that the ending is basically a cliff-hanger of sorts. Which means, there are more books coming in the TROF series! I'm currently 12k words into the second book, which is entitled Frayed Horizons. (or simply, TROF #2.) 

And today, I'm sharing a little snippet with you people! 

Behold. The beginning of chapter one, from Frayed Horizons. 

///

His eyes stung with a wetness that wasn’t theirs. They felt as if they’d been spliced with blades, like grapes on a cutting board. Snow was a harsh phenomenon, especially on an inexperienced southern man’s body.
Ezra had never seen snow before until he’d been sent to Rock Island.
Blinding light reflected off the dirty snowdrifts, even though the sky was a shrouded grey. Pain seared Ezra’s insides like a dozen carving knives.
Biting cold shook the frame of the lanky man. Its haggard fingers sunk into his flesh, numbing his bones and draining the color from his skin. The frigid chill in the air was murderous. Heat had killed many a soul, but no swelter could take lives this quickly.
The cold was so much crueler.
Ezra Darson stared at the barren, unmerciful walls that kept him in this desolate place. The sun was still young in the sky, muted by the grayness surrounding it. Ezra could barely make out its glow through the crack in this eastern wall.
He’d been deprived of everything, even the privilege of watching a sunrise.
In all his thirty years of living, nothing had ever come close to this. The reality of what had happened last year haunted him like a surreal dream. It didn’t seem to be reality at all. He still had trouble accepting it.
He was a prisoner of war. Along with thousands of other Confederate souls. They’d been sent here to Rock Island, Illinois almost six months ago; after a humiliating defeat on Lookout Mountain way back down in Tennessee.
It was no less bloody here than on that cursed battlefield.  Rock Island was nothing more than an icy grave, a wasteland of white and grey.
Hell was a place all to its own and a vile realm unlike no other, but Rock Island wasn’t far behind.
                                                                  ///

Stay tuned for more this year on Frayed Horizons!   And in the meantime, make sure you read TROF #1 so you are ready for the intensity to come. *wink* 


              

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