About the Author:
J.R. Rain is an ex-private investigator now writing
full-time in the Pacific Northwest where he lives in a
small house on a small island with his small dog, Sadie, who has more energy
than Robin Williams. He will be
publishing a slew of new novels over the next five years, so stop by often and
check out what’s new.
His latest book is the contemporary fantasy/mystery,
Moon
River.
Connect & Socialize
with J.R.!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
About the Book:
Seven
years ago federal agent Samantha Moon was the perfect wife and mother, your
typical soccer mom with the minivan and suburban home. Then the unthinkable
happens, an attack that changes her life forever. And forever is a very long
time for a vampire.
Now in MOON RIVER, private investigator, Samantha Moon, is asked to
look into a string of bizarre murders, murders that are looking more and more
like the handiwork of a bloodthirsty vampire. But when her sister, Mary Lou,
goes missing, Samantha, Allison and Kingsley take the fight underground...into
the dark heart of a vampire's lair.
Purchase your copy at AMAZON
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Virtual Book Club at Goodreads by clicking HERE.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Title: Moon River
Genre: Contemporary Fantasy/Mystery
Author: J.R. Rain
Publisher: Lulu
Pages: 216
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1304328198
ISBN-13: 978-1304328199
Purchase at AMAZON
Seven years ago federal agent Samantha Moon was the perfect wife
and mother, your typical soccer mom with the minivan and suburban home. Then
the unthinkable happens, an attack that changes her life forever. And forever
is a very long time for a vampire.
Now in MOON RIVER, private investigator, Samantha Moon, is asked to look into a
string of bizarre murders, murders that are looking more and more like the
handiwork of a bloodthirsty vampire. But when her sister, Mary Lou, goes
missing, Samantha, Allison and Kingsley take the fight underground...into the
dark heart of a vampire's lair.
First Chapter:
I would miss Judge Judy today,
which was always a damn shame. Judge Judy should be required viewing for anyone
without a backbone. Tough woman. Fair woman. Scary woman.
My kind of woman.
Instead, I found myself being
escorted by a young cop with perhaps the third- or fourth-cutest buns I’d ever
seen. I ranked his buns right behind Rand’s, the UPS driver who’d turned out to
be a vampire hunter. Officer Cute Buns led me down a hall that ended up being
far too short. I had just barely started ogling him when he turned to me,
smiled and motioned for me to enter.
I did so, smiling in return, and
I think I might have—just might have—had me some smiling sex.
Whatever that was.
Waiting inside was, of course,
Detective Sherbet. I knew he would be waiting for me because he’d called and
asked me to come down and meet with him. I also knew he was inside because I
could smell the bag of donuts from the hallway.
Who I wasn’t expecting was the
tall guy sitting opposite the detective. He was tall and dark-haired and sporting
shoulders nearly as wide as Kingsley’s. Nearly.
“Detective,” I said to Sherbet,
who made no attempt to stand. Rude. Then again, the old detective had been
gaining a little bit of weight these days, and he was veritably poured into
that chair.
I
heard that, he thought, telepathically catching my thoughts. The detective,
among a small handful of others in my life, could read my thoughts...and I,
theirs. I might have put on a little
holiday weight.
It’s
the summer, Detective. And there’s no ‘might have’ about it. I’m a trained
observer.
Well,
the Fourth of July is a big deal in the Sherbet household.
I grinned. He didn’t, although he
did look down at his growing belly.
“I didn’t bring you in here to
judge me,” said the detective.
“Excuse me?” said the other
gentleman, who had been looking at me, but now snapped his head around to
glance over at Sherbet.
Sherbet, unfortunately, still
hadn’t quite gotten the hang of telepathic communication with someone like me.
The old guy would occasionally blurt his thoughts, rather than think them. Rookie.
“Nothing,” said Sherbet. He
motioned to the partially masticated pink donut with rainbow sprinkles.
“Samantha Moon likes to give me a hard time about my donuts.”
“I didn’t say anything,
Detective,” I said, shrugging innocently.
“You didn’t have to...now, let’s
cut the crap. Samantha, this is Detective Sanchez from the Los Angeles Police
Department.”
He stood like a true gentleman,
reached over and shook my hand with a firm but soft grip. His grip told me a
lot: confident, warm, comfortable with himself. Most important: human.
I’d had my hand in my jeans
pocket where I had been holding a hand warmer. Yes, a hand warmer. They
sold them at the local market...and they did wonders for creatures like me. If
I knew a handshake was imminent, I could pop one of these open, grip it in my
pocket...and shake hands with confidence.
Sherbet asked me to have a seat,
and I did, next to Sanchez.
“Boy,” I said. “Two big, bad
homicide detectives and just little ol’ me. I feel honored.”
“Cut the crap, Sam,” said
Sherbet. “We’re going to need you on this one.”
Sanchez listened to this exchange
and smiled. An easy smile. Friendly. But there was a strength to his jaw, and
the way his forearms rippled as he moved slightly. He sported a thick, gold
wedding ring. He said, “You were a federal agent, Ms. Moon?”
“Call me Samantha. And yes. For a
few years.”
“You’re too young to retire.
Sorry if I’m prying. Call it occupational spillover. Sometimes, I can’t stop
asking questions.”
I nodded. I understood
completely. I said, “I developed a...condition.”
“A condition that kept you from
working as a federal agent?”
“No. A condition that kept me out
of the sun. It’s called xeroderma pigmentosum and it’s a bitch.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. And here
we dragged you out into the sun. My apologies.” Sanchez’s concern was real as
he leaned forward and looked from me to Sherbet. “I hadn’t known. I would have
met you at your home, or anywhere that you were more comfortable.”
I smiled at his sweetness. “It’s
okay, Detective. I’ve learned to adapt.”
Truth was, six months ago, I’d
adapted quite nicely, as I had then sported a medallion that enabled me to step
out into the light of day. That the medallion had been buried under my skin was
another story—or that a body-hopping demon had torn it from me...was, in the
least, a horror story for another day, too.
Lots
of stories, I thought.
Focus,
Sam,
came the detective’s thoughts.
I nodded to him as Sanchez said,
“As long as you’re okay.”
“Oh, I’m fine, thank you,” I
said. “So, how can I help you, gentlemen?”
Detective Sherbet looked at me
for a long moment. Then he looked at Sanchez, who was looking down at his
hands.
“Either someone starts talking
about the case, or I’m going to start knocking heads,” I said.
That seemed to break the ice.
Sanchez chuckled. Sherbet might have grinned. Finally, the handsome LAPD
homicide detective said, “We think we have a serial killer on our hands.”
There was, of course, no reason
why two experienced homicide detectives would be talking to me, a lowly private
eye, about a serial killer. Homicide detectives, in general, didn’t look
favorably upon us. We were seen as a nuisance, amateurish. There was, of
course, only one reason why I had been called in. Something wicked this way comes.
I had been called in on such a
case last year. Sherbet and I eventually caught the bastards behind what had
turned out to be a blood ring. Right, a blood ring. For vampires.
Sherbet, of course, no longer had any memory of my involvement in the case,
thanks to Detective Hanner, a fellow creature of the night who had been
overseeing—and concealing—the bloody enterprise for many years. Thanks to her
otherworldly ability to remove and replace memories, most of the department—and
anyone involved in the case, for that matter—believed that only one man had
been behind the killings. The fact that the bodies had been drained of all
blood had never made it into police reports or autopsy reports. Any connections
to vampires had been removed from documentation. Sherbet himself was
remembering more and more of the case, thanks to my help. But much was
forgotten and would, undoubtedly, remain forgotten.
Now, I looked at Sherbet and
thought: How much did you tell him about me?
Sherbet held my gaze then finally
looked away. Everything, Sam. Everything.
About the book:
One decision changed both their lives . . . but will love win in the
end? Charlotte Rose Hill enjoys a comfortable life serving up country
delicacies, uniquely blended teas, and matchmaking advice for her
quirky, devoted customers. The only thing lacking is someone to share it
with. At eighteen she denied Sam Wilder's marriage proposal after his
family convinced her to walk away from their relationship. They both
moved on . . . or so she thought. When Sam walks back into her life more
than a decade later, Charlotte is surprised that her heart still
quickens. But is it because of his presence? Or because of the presence
of Sam's new fiancée? A second chance at love doesn't happen often, but
their past may keep them apart. Is it too late for Sam and Charlotte?
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