Monday, 4 November 2019

Blog Tour: The Call of Death by R.J. Garcia {Excerpt + Teaser + #Giveaway} @rj_dreamer

Check out my stop on the blog tour for The Call of Death by R.J. Garcia!
 Author: R.J. Garcia
Title: The Call of Death
Genre: YA Coming of Age/Romantic Suspense
Release Date: November 5th 2019
Publisher: Parliament House


Fourteen-year-old Hannah Priestly crashes into a terrifying future. She wakes up in her dorm room now knowing the name of an infamous serial killer, Norman Biggs. He will attack her in the future unless she and her three male friends can change fate.

Hannah is a suntanned, obsessive-compulsive California girl dropped off at an English boarding school by her celebrity mother. Hannah has difficulty understanding algebra, let alone her increasingly dark visions. Rory Veer is Hannah’s smart, easy-going and romantically challenged friend and school crush. When Norman Biggs unexpectedly appears in Rory’s reality, terror is set in motion. It is Rory who must acknowledge a past he has denied if the mystery is to be unraveled.

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Excerpt from The Call of Death

      11:00 p.m. My roommate, Yasmin’s sleeping hums filled the otherwise quiet room. I fought to stay awake. I painted my nails black for something to do. The smell of the polish permeated our small space.
      Midnight, I stared at the screen, and my eyes burned. I chipped my nail polish off like always.
      1:00 a.m. It was so quiet. I quivered and almost faded out but fought it and drank a diet soda from the minifridge.
      2:00 a.m. I succumbed to sleep.
      Somewhere in the walls, a girl screamed. My eyes opened. I watched the walls swell and return to their regular state before they swelled up again. I jumped out of my bed but was no longer in my room. Looking down at my body, I was a small shadow of myself and in my school uniform. Each step I took felt strange and light as I headed down a dank, dreary alley. Someone was breathing, and then I saw a woman stooped near a large, industrial garbage bin. Slowly, I approached her. She looked up at me. Her mouth was open, taking in large, labored breaths. It allowed me to notice her front tooth was missing. Her hair was brown at the roots, fading out to a light blond at the ends like she hadn’t kept up with bleaching it. Her skin was so white it glowed, and the girl’s emancipated arms were sprinkled with track marks. Even more disturbing was the way the front of her dress glistened, wet and dark.
      The woman’s voice broke open the silence. “Aren’t you going to help us?”
      “How?” I asked.
      The gloomy figure of a man loomed over her. He was large and bland and scooped the lady up. Her mouth opened in rapture but shaped into some tortured, silent scream; then her eyes closed, and she grew limp in his arms. The sound of her breathing fell away, and the quiet was alarming. I knew. She was dead.
      The man gently carried her the way a groom carried his bride on their wedding day. His breath molded itself into a pleasurable sigh. Suddenly, he sensed my presence, glancing in my direction. His eyes were dark marbles with endless depth. I froze in horror but realized he was not able to see me. He proceeded to throw the lady in the dumpster. In that instant, I recognized him. He was the man that attacked me in my dream.
      His image spun around like a carousel and slowly faded. I woke up dazed. Scared. Freaked out. I was losing my mind and trapped in a preoccupation with darkness and the delicate balance of things. I couldn’t even figure out algebra without Rory’s help. I was in way over my head.
      4:35 a.m. I didn’t go back to sleep. I sat on my bed, eyes wide opened, my bare feet planted on the hardwood floor.
      6:00 a.m. My alarm rang, I turned it off and laid back, exhausted. I was finally falling into a dreamless sleep when I heard Yasmin call out to me as she left the room. My face was still smashed into my pillow, and I didn’t get up. 

About the Author

R.J. Garcia is a wife and proud mom. She earned her MSW and worked with foster children and as a school social worker. Writing has been her other great love. She has published several non-fiction pieces. She has been writing short-stories for as long as she can remember. To her amazement, those short stories became novels!

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