PUYB Virtual Book Club Chats with 'The Investment Club' Doug Cooper

Doug Cooper is the author of the award-winning novel Outside In and The Investment Club available October 2016. He has a BS in Mathematics Education from Miami University and a MA in American Studies from Saint Louis University. Always searching, he has traveled to over twenty countries on five continents, exploring the contradictions between what we believe and how we act in the pursuit of truth, beauty, and love. Originally from Port Clinton, Ohio, he has also called Cleveland, St. Louis, Detroit, New York, and Oslo, Norway home. He now lives in Cleveland working on his third novel Focus Lost.

WEBSITE & SOCIAL LINKS:

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About the Book:

Forty million people visit Vegas every year but most never get past the strip. What about the people who live there? What brought them there? What keeps them there?

Told from the perspective of a seasoned blackjack dealer, The Investment Club tells the stories of a self-destructive, dwarf entrepreneur, a drug-addicted musical performer-turned-stripper, a retired, widowed New Jersey policeman, a bereaved, divorced female sportscaster, and a card-counting, former Catholic priest before and after their fateful meeting at the El Cortez Casino in downtown Vegas.

As the five learn the greatest return comes from investing in one another, their lives stabilize and take on new, positive directions. But their love and support for each other can take them only so far before they must determine the meaning and value of their own lives.

FOR MORE INFORMATION:

Amazon | Barnes & Noble

Before you started writing your book, what kind of research did you do to prepare yourself?

I moved to Vegas to the area the novel is set and played blackjack in every casino on the strip and downtown to learn the game and scout the right locations to tell the story, of which the El Cortez downtown was the ideal place. In addition, I volunteered for the American Cancer Society to drive patients who were unable to find their own transportation to appointments to learn the area, meet locals, and give back to the community. For one of the main characters, Crystal Moore, the singer/dance-turned-stripper, I also visited all the strip clubs to find the appropriate place of employment for her — most certainly will be the most expensive character I ever research. LOL

Did you pursue publishers or did you opt to self-pub?

I queried agents and publishers.

If published by a publisher, what was your deciding factor in going with them?

My publisher, Rare Bird Lit, a division of Rare Bird Books, did the promotion and publicity for my first book. Throughout that process, I developed a relationship with the owner, Tyson Cornell. As I was contacting agents and other publishers and staying in contact with Tyson, it became clear they were the right publisher for The Investment Club. They specialize in literary fiction and publish books for the same reasons writers write them: to create art and share a message.

If published by a publisher, are you happy with the price they chose?

Yes, at $17.95 I think it is great value for the money for a 120K-word book.

Did you purposefully choose a distinct month to release your book?  Why?

We chose a fall release in October to get it into the market and be ready for the holiday retail season.

How did you choose your cover?

The cover choice was a collaborative choice between me, the publishing team, and the sales reps with input from the retail outlets. One aspect I absolutely love about the cover is the gold foil stamping that was added to the matte black background with the red arrow and yellow lights. It conveys that Vegas bling without being ostentatious.

Did you write your book, then revise or revise as you went?

I did a lot of structure and outline work then wrote and revised hundred pages for the base then worked through the outline, periodically dropping back and editing for continuity and additional ideas.

Did you come up with special swag for your book and how are you using it to help get the word out about your book?  

One of the special SWAG items I created was a black $100 casino chip with the title on one side and my info and website on the other. If I was playing blackjack or out and about and asked what I did or when the book would be out, I would give them a chip. Works so much better than a business card.

Did you consider making or hiring someone to make a book trailer for your book?  If so, what’s the link?

I did a book trailer for my first book Outside In (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V4qBmPn7A4s), but for The Investment Club, I decided to invest that money in other areas. I created other short videos from events and gifs with content to promote the book.

What’s your opinion on giving your book away to sell other copies of your book?

I do giveaways and contests and leave copies of my books in cafes, bed & breakfasts, doctors’ offices, anywhere there is a library or other reading material.

What are three of the most important things you believe an author should do before their book is released?

Following are the three most important things an author should do prior to release:

1.      Understand your market and the value your book delivers to readers.

2.      Build a platform from which to sell. Why are readers going to be interested in you and your book more than all the others you are competing with?

3.      Craft and hone your pitch: an elevator version, a medium one if they want to hear more, and an extended one if they are really interested.

What are three of the most important things you believe an author should do after their book is released?

Following are the three most important things an author should do after release:

1.      Partner with other authors to collaborate and sell together.

2.      Engage the independent booksellers, not just in your area, but across the country. Don’t just focus on Amazon, B&N, and the other mega-retailers. Support the independents, and they will support you. But more than anything, we as a community and society need independents to promote artists and sell books.

3.      Be resilient. Don’t get discouraged and don’t take no for an answer. The demand for you and your books will not materialize on its own volition. You have to create it and maintain it until it develops its own power to sustain.

What kind of pre-promotion did you do before the book came out? 

I have all the social media accounts and did all the usual advanced notifications. One of the new things I did with this book is include fans in the development process. I offered the opportunity to readers I met through the release of my first book to be part of my beta-reading team. I sent them the final edit before the advanced reader copies were printed and ten questions to get their feedback, which I used to finalize the ARC. In exchange, I sent them a free signed copy and included them in the Acknowledgements. I also did contests to win ARCs and other contests.

Do you have a long term plan with your book?

Being a character-driven book with five very different characters spanning the ages of 25-70 and from different backgrounds, I think The Investment Club would make a great TV show. There are so many directions you could take the story, and there is so much depth to drill into, you could expand on their stories in so many different ways. With over forty million people visiting Vegas every year, I’d also like to get a copy in hotel rooms and gift shops in Vegas.

What would you like to say to your readers and fans about your book?

The Investment Club is a reminder that the greatest return we receive in our lives comes from investing in one another. We focus so much on what we want and have, but our greatest achievements are what we do for each other.

PUYB Virtual Book Club Chats with Amber Leigh Williams

Amber Leigh Williams is a Harlequin romance writer who lives on the US Gulf Coast. She lives for beach days, the smell of real books, and spending time with her husband and their two young children. When she’s not keeping up with rambunctious little ones (and two large dogs), she can usually be found reading a good book or indulging her inner foodie. Amber is represented by the D4EO Literary Agency.

WEBSITE & SOCIAL LINKS:

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About the Book:

Wedding planner Roxie Honeycutt can make happy-ever-after come true for anyone except herself. Freshly divorced and done with love, she's okay with watching clients walk down the aisle. What's not okay? Sharing a charming Victorian house with accountant Byron Strong. He's frustratingly sexy and determined to keep her confused. 

Roxie thought Byron's expertise was numbers, yet somehow he sees her for who she really is. Somehow he understands the hurt she hides behind a trademark smile. Suddenly romance is tempting again, even if it means risking another heartbreak.

FOR MORE INFORMATION:

Amazon

Before you started writing your book, what kind of research did you do to prepare yourself?

For Wooing the Wedding Planner, I focused on heavier subjects – what it takes to overcome grief, depression…subjects I’ve been hesitant to approach in previous books. I knew the emotional scope of these characters would dig a bit deeper so the research was invaluable.

Did you pursue publishers or did you opt to self-pub?

Naturally, I went the same route as previous books. This was my first three-book deal with Harlequin Superromance so I got to complete the first leg of my series with the imprint as well as explore ideas for more.

Did you purposefully choose a distinct month to release your book?  Why?

When I send in the final manuscript, it falls into the publication queue, which is anywhere from eight months to a year from completion. However, if the book centers around holidays like Christmas or New Years, it often gets released around that time period.

How did you choose your cover?

The Harlequin art department provides cover art for all Superromance novels, but authors do get some input.

Did you write your book, then revise or revise as you went?

I wrote the first three chapters then discussed my vision for the story with my editor. She helped me focus on the journey of the characters and where they needed to go, romantically and individually, so the original chapters and vision as well as her ideas became a springboard to get the story where it needed to go and the book, thankfully, rounded out in a satisfying way.

What’s your opinion on giving your book away to sell other copies of your book?

I prefer to give away gift cards to readers. I’ve learned that giving away a free book doesn’t draw people to buy pages. It’s more beneficial, I think, to give away gift cards to book sites like Amazon or Barnes & Noble while promoting a title sold online there.

What are three of the most important things you believe an author should do before their book is released?

Explore promotional options and figure out which is best suited to you. I’ve enjoyed my virtual book tours with Pump Up Your Book very much. It’s important also to build a website and a brand. Never stop communicating with your readers through your e-newsletter, social networking sites or blog and website.

What are three of the most important things you believe an author should do after their book is released?

Keep drawing people to your website and buy pages. Find creative ways to get them there. Reviews and social networking graphics are great ways to do this. Build your readership.

Do you have a long term plan with your book?

My plan is to keep writing the series. I just wrapped up the fifth book, which should be published sometime later this year, and I’ve started researching the sixth. The main characters of Wooing the Wedding Planner, Byron and Roxie, will undoubtedly make an appearance as the series arc expands.

What would you like to say to your readers and fans about your book?

It’s an interesting clash between a tried and true skeptic and the eternal optimist. It’s a heartwarming romance about two people who struggle to move forward in a way that many people in real life do. It’s a story of love, but it’s also about hope and overcoming and I hope readers find some solace in that and enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!  

GIVEAWAY!

 

Amber is giving away a $50 B&N Gift Card!

Terms & Conditions:

• By entering the giveaway, you are confirming you are at least 18 years old.
• One winner will be chosen via Rafflecopter to receive a $50 B&N Gift Card.
• This giveaway ends midnight April 28.

Good luck everyone!

ENTER TO WIN!

  a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

PUYB Virtual Book Club Presents Occult and Battery Book Blast!

 

We welcome Lena Gregory's OCCULT AND BATTERY Book Blast today! Lena will be giving away a $25 Amazon Gift Card at the end of her tour. Leave a comment on this blog for extra points!

Title: OCCULT AND BATTERY

Author: Lena Gregory

Publisher: Berkley

Pages: 304

Genre: Cozy Mystery

A murder mystery weekend becomes a little too real in the latest Bay Island Psychic Mystery from the author of Death at First Sight—

Cass Donovan uses her skills as a former psychiatrist to get away with pretending to be psychic, but she’s not about to let anyone get away with murder...

The outlook is not so good for Cass’s psychic shop, Mystical Musings. With winter winds discouraging tourists from riding the ferry from Long Island to Bay Island, Cass hopes to draw in more customers by hosting a murder mystery weekend, complete with a séance, in a supposedly haunted mansion.

But Cass begins to lose her spirit when her ex-husband shows up, along with his fiancée—Cass’s ex-best friend. Then, after one of the guests is found dead, a blizzard blows in, trapping everyone inside with a murderer. Now Cass must divine who did the deed before her reputation and her livelihood fade away.

FOR MORE INFORMATION:

Amazon | Barnes & Noble

Book Excerpt:

 

“Stop the car!”

Bee Maxwell slammed on the brakes, skidding to a stop on the sand-covered shoulder. Without loosening his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, he turned a glare on Cass. “Are you crazy? What’s the matter?”

Cass released her hold on the dashboard and shot him a grin. “We’re here.”

A hand the size of a baseball mitt fluttered to Bee’s chest, with all the drama of a true diva. “You nearly gave me a heart attack because we’ve arrived at our secret destination?” Gritting his teeth, he shifted gently into park. No way would he jam the shifter into gear, even though she could tell he badly wanted to. The black Trans Am was his baby, always to be treated tenderly. Cass, on the other hand, was a different story. Bee looked about ready to throttle her. “Wouldn’t it have been easier to just tell me where we were going?”

Stephanie Lawrence poked her head between the seats to stare at Cass. “Not that I want to agree with Bee, but really, Cass, you could have just told him where to go. Then maybe this maniac wouldn’t have nearly put us through the windshield.”

She shrugged. “I didn’t think he’d agree to take me if I told him where we were going.”

Bee waved a hand in dismissal and glanced out the window, as if realizing for the first time where they were.

The old, supposedly haunted Madison Estate perched in the center of the highest ground on the island, amid dried-up beach grass, trees long since devoid of leaves, and garbage from whatever kids were brave—or stupid—enough to ignore their parents’ warnings. Thick, grey clouds gathered overhead, lending credence to the haunted stories Cass had heard since childhood.

A dainty shiver ran through Bee’s bulky frame. “Well, if your destination has anything to do with that house, you can just count me out.”

“But it’s perfect.” She opened the door and shot him a quick grin over her shoulder.

“Hey. Where are you going?”

Ignoring Bee’s protests, Cass climbed from the car. She closed the door behind her, effectively cutting off any further arguments. Bee happened to be deathly afraid of ghosts. Not that he believed in them.

About the Author

Lena Gregory lives in a small town on the south shore of eastern Long Island with her husband and three children. When she was growing up, she spent many lazy afternoons on the beach, in the yard, anywhere she could find to curl up with a good book. She loves reading as much now as she did then, but she now enjoys the added pleasure of creating her own stories.

Her latest book is the cozy mystery, Occult and Battery.

WEBSITE & SOCIAL LINKS:

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Giveaway Instructions:

Terms & Conditions:

• By entering the giveaway, you are confirming you are at least 18 years old.
• One winner will be chosen via Rafflecopter to receive a $25 Amazon Gift Card.
• This giveaway ends midnight April 31.

Good luck everyone!

ENTER TO WIN!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Book Trailer Reveal: Are You There Krishna? by Rachel Khona

We're happy to host Rachel Khona's ARE YOU THERE, KRISHNA? IT'S ME, RESHMA, OR RACHEL. OR WHATEVER Book Trailer Reveal today! Enjoy the trailer!

About the Book:

Title: ARE YOU THERE KRISHNA? IT'S ME, RESHMA. OR RACHEL. OR WHATEVER.: ESSAYS ON TALKING TO GHOSTS, ACCOSTING CELEBRITIES, GETTING HIGH, SEXISM, RACE AND FIRST-GENERATION WOES
Author: Rachel Khona
Publisher: Thought Catalog
Pages: 257
Genre: Humor/Memoir

Rachel knew even as a young child that she wasn’t like the rest of her Indian family. While her parents were plotting how she could make it into med school with her mediocre grades in chemistry and biology, she had other things on her mind, including such gems as:

• Why can’t she go to the temple on her period?
• Why don’t her Indian cousins like her?
• Why was it OK to be sexualized at a beauty pageant but not for herself?
• How can she straddle two cultures while retaining her sense of self?
• Why are women considered sluts and men considered studs?
• Why do people keep asking her if she was born in India?
• Should she wax down there?
• Why does she have crazy eyes?

After leaving home, Rachel got high in Amsterdam, met her pop singer idol in a bathroom, argued with a ghost, and got lost in the Pyrenees. But that didn’t stop her from questioning while men still tell her to smile. 'Are You There Krishna? It’s Me, Reshma. Or Rachel. Or Whatever.' weaves stories of Rachel’s life with observations on race, class, sex, feminism, and culture with humor and candor.

FOR MORE INFORMATION:

Amazon

About the Author

Once upon a time in an exotic land called New Jersey, Rachel Khona used to dream of one day playing tambourine in an all-girl rock band. That never happened.

Instead she became a writer. She has written for The New York Times, The Washington Post, Playboy, Penthouse, Maxim, and Cosmopolitan among others.

When she’s not writing or designing, she is busy drinking wine and singing off key, bike riding, pretending she’s friends with Mindy Kaling and Amy Poehler, eating absurd amounts of cheese, or listening to rock music at an appallingly loud volume. Sometimes all at once.

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Mystery at Manatee Key by Nancy Stewart

Title: MYSTERY AT MANATEE KEY
Author: Nancy Stewart
Publisher: Guardian Angel Publishing
Pages: 36
Genre: Children’s Picture Book

Bella and Britt love to explore along the beach and at more remote places like Manatee Key as well.  It is there that they discover a manatee smuggling ring. 

The manatees have already been netted, so the girls must act fast!  But a kidnapper snatches Bella, hustling her into their hideout.  When Britt sneaks a look in the window, she discovers that the ranger is being held, too.  Now it’s up to Britt.  But what can a single girl do?

Mystery at Manatee Key is available at Amazon

Book Excerpt:

A dark animal circled slowly in the shallow water of Manatee Key. Walking closer, Bella whispered. “A baby manatee. And it has a patch of white near its snout.” Britt frowned. “But where’s the mother? It must be hungry. We should tell the ranger.”

“Yeah,” Bella said. “This one’s too young to be without her mom. Let’s go.”

The friends worked their way through the jungle-like brush back to their bicycles. Britt took the lead. “It’s really hot, but we gotta make time.” 

After a twenty minute ride down dusty paths leading to the main road in their coastal town, they reached the ranger station. “It’s quiet in here today,” Bella said.

 The ranger’s assistant glanced up from his reading. “Hi, girls. Can I help you?”

“We need to see the ranger and report an orphaned manatee,” Bella said.

He frowned. “She hasn’t come in today, and that’s not like her. I’ve called her phones. Nobody answered. And no one’s seen her. Have you by any chance?”

“No,” they answered at the same time.

 “Well, it’s a mystery,” he said. “I won’t call the police yet. But I’m getting worried. Now, about that manatee. Can you take me to it?”

 “Sure,” Britt said. “If you can bring us back to town. We rode our bikes here.” He nodded. “Of course.”

The Feet Say Run by Daniel A. Blum

Title: THE FEET SAY RUN

Author: Daniel A. Blum

Publisher: Gabriel’s Horn Press

Pages: 349

Genre: Literary Fiction

At the age of eighty-five, Hans Jaeger finds himself a castaway among a group of survivors on a deserted island.  What is my particular crime?  he asks.   Why have I been chosen  for this fate?  And so he begins his extraordinary chronicle. 

It would be an understatement to say he has lived a full life.  He has grown up in Nazi Germany and falls in love with Jewish girl.  He fights for the Germans on two continents, watches the Reich collapse spectacularly into occupation and starvation, and marries his former governess.  After the war he goes on wildflower expeditions in the Alps, finds solace among prostitutes while his wife lay in a coma, and marries a Brazilian chambermaid in order to receive a kidney from her. 

By turns sardonic and tragic and surreal, Hans’s story is the story of all of the insanity, irony and horror of the modern world itself.  

FOR MORE INFORMATION:

Amazon | Barnes & Noble

Book Excerpt:

It was early November.  November 5, to be exact.  1938.   I was with Hilda when we heard the news over the radio.  A German diplomat had been shot.  By a Jew.  We’d never heard of this diplomat.  Who had?  But suddenly it was all over the news.  This abominable act!  Committed not just by a Jew.  But, rather, by the Jews.  This high crime!  For a few days the diplomat clung to life.    But the fury of the official broadcasts was astonishing.  The demands for revenge.  And then, on the day I had marked for my next visit with Sylvia, this obscure diplomat, now elevated to the level of a great personage, died of his wounds—martyred himself for the cause of all of us violated Germans.

Hilda and I just looked at one another.

“I think you need to get her out now,” Hilda said.  And then, “If you’re going to do it.”

I nodded.

The wireless was broadcasting stories of rioting breaking out all over Germany.  Anti-Jewish rage.  Synagogues torched.  Storefronts smashed.  From inside Hilda’s apartment though, we heard nothing.  It was like any other night.  Would it really spread to our quiet little town?

I left for Sylvia’s before midnight.  The crooked alleys in Hilda’s neighborhood were all calm.  Maybe none of it was true.  There were people out here and there, maybe more than usual —groups of threes and fours, mostly drawn out by the news, wondering what they would see.  But it was a chilly night, and that seemed to keep people moving.

As I walked toward the river I could hear more voices.  And then there was something.  A lamp store.  Brodsky’s Lamps and Lampshades.  Smashed to ruins.  Shards of glass everywhere.  Just as the radio had described it.  Why had it happened here though?  What was this strange, magical connection between the radio and this pile of debris?   Is that what it means to be a social species, that we will simply do what we believe others are doing?  We hear words on the radio, people are destroying Jewish businesses, and like pre-programmed automatons, we interpret this message as an instruction?

I moved on, walked along old streets, under medieval arches, and out to the less ancient, less huddled part of town.  Across all of it was a sort of crystalline quiet.  A milkman’s wagon passed —the horse clopping and snorting.  Along the next block I scared up a yard of chickens, startled myself with the sudden clucking and scattering.  Peaceful Edelburg.  My storybook town.

 I was most of the way to Sylvia’s when I approached something again.  A commotion.  I drew closer.   A crowd of figures, milling around a square, Vanderplatz.  Watching something.  Watching what?  There were voices.  Shouts.  I approached.   Peeked through a pair of shoulders.   A man was being pushed by several men.  They were shouting at him.  Trying to get him to push back.  He was older, had a frightened face, kept trying to back away, but there was always someone behind him, giving him another shove.  His hair was disheveled.  Beside them, on the ground, was a hat that had evidently been knocked off his head.  What did they want from him? 

A woman, who seemed to be his wife, was restrained by two other men.  One had her arms.  The other had a hand in her hair.  She was crying, protesting.  She wore a heavy coat that bunched in the neck as they pried her arms back.  When she spoke, the hand in her hair drove her down lower, until at last she was on her knees, and drool was dripping from her mouth.  Now the man protested the woman’s treatment, begged on her behalf, and this resulted in a fist hitting his stomach.  He bent over, breathless, as other blows started to land on him.

What an unreal quality it had though.  This one little act.  This one droplet of cruelty amid the sea that seemed to be sweeping the country.  You could even sense a kind of self-consciousness among the perpetrators.  Acting out this bit of violence, getting themselves comfortable with it, acclimated to it, this act that they had heard was happening everywhere, trying this new thing out, yet having trouble identifying this old couple, these actual people, with the criminal Juden of the broadcasts.

And then, after the first blow, how much easier it seemed, the next punches coming so much more naturally, the hatred starting to feed on itself, the inner pleasure at inflicting pain.  Yes!  This was going to be a beautiful thing, this new violence!  It was just a question of adjusting to it.  That the victims were old and helpless, that there was nothing that they had actually done to deserve it that anyone could name—wasn’t that really part of the joy?  Wasn’t that liberating in some way?  Because if you could beat these people, punch their elderly faces and kick their sides, with all these others watching, doing nothing to stop it, didn’t that give you a kind of power, not merely over your victims, but over everybody, everything?  Could you not take it even farther, see how far it could go?

There were maybe only six or seven young men actually involved in tormenting this couple, and maybe sixty or seventy watching silently.  Many no doubt shocked, horrified, wishing it would stop.  But silent as an audience watching a performance in a theatre.  Silent as a group of schoolchildren watching a bully pick on someone smaller and weaker.  Each thinking maybe now someone should stop this.  It has gone on long enough.  Someone should intercede.  But who?  How?  Others just incorporating it.  Accepting it.  Who knew.

And then there was that awkward moment.  That end without an end—the victims just lying there bloodied.  The beating done.  Only there was no curtain to lower upon the scene.  And that lack of a proper ending seemed to reveal, even to the perpetrators, the pointlessness of what they had done.  Did they just walk away?  Bow to their audience?  What?  At last it occurred to one of them to spit on the couple.  And then the others recognized the virtue of this, and added their spit.  And their beads of spit landed like hateful, little exclamations points on their victims.  And thus having found a suitable denouement, they turned away, headed off, whooping, breaking into some Nazi song—as though it were the final number in a musical.

Kristallnacht had come to Edelburg. 

For a while the crowd stayed where it was, looked on at those two heaps of suffering, as though still expecting something more to happen.  Wondering if it is over.  Wondering if they should offer assistance, call the police, deposit their own spit.  In the end though, they did none of these.  Instead they just watched for a while more and wandered off, left to sort out their own thoughts.

I was one of the last to leave.  I watched them stagger up.  Alive.  Moaning.  I briefly caught the man’s eye.  At least someone get him his hat, I thought.  But I didn’t.  I left.  Just as the others had.

Just a few more blocks to Sylvia’s, and now I felt even more urgently the need to reach her.  I was aware of forms passing this way and that.  More than would normally have been out at that hour.  I heard muffled voices.  But it was difficult to see very much.  The night was moonless.  Who were they?  It was hard to make out.

I waited across the street for a while, until it seemed there was nobody around.  Then I slipped around the back of Sylvia’s house and tossed a pebble at the window.   A moment later I was inside.  I was in her arms.  That same shocking nakedness through her nightgown.  Pressed against her.  We tiptoed up to her room, just as we had on my last visit.  I undressed.  Slipped into her bed.   At first I was still seeing that scene at Vanderplatz that I had witnessed.  That vignette.  And then in another instant it was gone.  As though a great wave came over consciousness itself, obliterating everything.  Because how could this beautiful sensation and that horrid memory coexist?  Or maybe I just willed it away.  I just wanted the pureness of the moment.  No past and no future.   No words.  Just the sensation, the great ocean-wave of desire, flooding everything.  So that when the bed creaked it was as though reality itself had given us a little nudge.  No, you cannot forget me.  I am right outside.  I am waiting for you.

Chasing Hindy by Darin Gibby

Title: Chasing Hindy
Author: Darin Gibby
Publisher: Koehler Books
Pages: 284
Genre: Thriller

ADDY’S DREAM AS a patent attorney is to help bring a ground breaking energy technology to the world. Addy’s hopes soar when she is wooed by Quinn, an entrepreneur, to join his company that has purportedly invented a car that can run on water using an innovative catalyst. After resigning her partnership to join Quinn, Addy discovers things aren’t as they seem. The patent office suppresses the company’s patent applications and her life is threatened by unknown assailants if she doesn’t resign.

When she is arrested for stealing US technology from the patent office she realizes Quinn has used her. Now, Addy must find a way to clear her name while salvaging her dream of propelling this technology to the world, all while powerful forces attempt to stop her.

FOR MORE INFORMATION:

Amazon | Barnes & Noble

Book Excerpt:

ADDY FELT LIKE jumping out of her car and doing a quick happy dance in the middle of stalled traffic. Her excitement at   becoming  the  newest—and  youngest—partner  at  the intellectual property law firm of Wyckoff & Schechter was nearly overwhelming.

She grinned at the shadow on the hood of Hindy, her treasured retrofitted cherry red Shelby Mustang. The shadow was created by a barrel-sized, hydrogen-filled balloon that floated above the Mustang’s roof. Gawkers pointed and laughed as the Shelby eased down El Camino pulling the tethered balloon as if in a Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade. The balloon—which on one side sported her law firm’s logo, and on the other Hindy in giant cursive script—was just an advertising gimmick to show her passion for alternative energies. It was only strapped to the roof on calm, sunny days when she was travelling at slow speeds using routes that avoided overpasses. The retrofitted Mustang was  really powered by four electric motors using electricity produced by solar panels and a conventional fuel cell.

At first, the Wyckoff partners questioned Addy’s prudence in strapping a floating balloon to the roof of any vehicle, but they’d

come to admire the effectiveness of her marketing innovations. They even lifted their champagne glasses at the end of her mentor’s welcome speech acknowledging that her Shelby was responsible for bringing in increasing numbers of the “green” companies sprouting like weeds all over the Silicon Valley— inventive, entrepreneurial companies in need of legal advice and support for their patents.

While  the  traffic  inched  forward,  Addy  chuckled  with excitement. “Hindy, ol’ pal,” she said, patting the dashboard, “you and I are going places now! Next time some overzealous cops accuse you of being a traffic hazard, I’ll stare them down and inform them they’re messing with the partner of a highly prestigious law firm.”

Traffic  momentarily  loosened  and  Addy  eased  Hindy forward, careful not to snap the lines tethering the egg-shaped balloon. Addy sang along with Zissy Spaeth, pop rock’s newest and most flashy star, as Zissy belted out her latest hit, Light in Your Eyes, over the radio. In the corner of her eye she noticed a blaze of neon orange.

Her heart stopped. In the car next to her someone was pointing a bazooka-sized gizmo at her balloon. She blinked, trying to clear her vision.

A  flare shot  out,  aimed  straight  at  her  floating ball  of

hydrogen.

Even in the late afternoon sunlight, it was impossible to miss the explosion. The dirigible burst into a giant fireball, then slowly deflated and floated down toward the Shelby’s crimson hood.

Addy  stomped  on  her  brakes,  hoping  the  balloon’s momentum would shoot the flaming mass forward. The fireball, safely secured by its fluorescent yellow nylon tethers, crashed down onto the windshield, blocking Addy’s view. She screeched to a halt, slammed her shoulder into the door, flung it open, and darted out, catching the heel of her pump on the doorjamb, which sent her sprawling headlong onto the pavement.

She heard tires squeal and at least a half dozen blaring horns. Stinging pain shot up from her elbow and knees. Thank goodness traffic had been just inching along.

Ignoring the pain, she bolted forward, arms raised, ready

to yank the still-burning fabric off the windshield. Before she got close enough to grab it, the sweltering heat from the flames scorched her cheeks, and she shielded her eyes with her forearm. Just when she reached the hood, a breeze lifted the infernal blob and propelled it directly at her, the nylon cords now seared through.

She braced herself for the fireball when she felt arms wrap around her chest and yank her back, barely in time to avoid the searing molten mass of goo about to descend on her head, threatening to fry her face and melt her hair.

“Are you crazy? What are you thinking?” a deep voice

bellowed in her ear, still holding her tight.

Together they watched what was left of the blimp float like a falling leaf onto the grassy shoulder, just like the Hindenburg did almost eighty years ago.

“Someone clearly doesn’t like you, short stuff,” her rescuer said, now standing next to her stroking his goatee, his face hidden behind dark sunglasses and a low-riding Dodgers cap. “More like out to get you. That was some kind of flare the driver shot at your blimp. I tried to spot his license plate, but it was covered up. Snapped a picture with my phone, though,” the man said fishing it from his pocket. “You can kind of see a tattoo on his forearm. The police will love this.”

Before she could thank him, someone cried out, “Call a fire

truck! The grass!”

Brush fires in California were no joking matter. Addy could smell the smoldering grasses. A strong breeze fanned the flames, pushing the fire toward a row of redwood trees.

Then she heard a whiny voice coming from the milling crowd of stranded passengers who’d gathered to find out what was holding up their homeward commute. “I’ve seen that blimp before. I knew it was trouble,” the whiner complained.

“Yeah, but at least she’s part of the solution,” said someone else. “Her car doesn’t use gasoline. Look at what you’re driving,” he said, sneering at the whiny woman’s crossover SUV.

Addy’s knees buckled, her head spinning. She plopped down onto the pavement and hugged her bare legs. This couldn’t be happening.

Why would someone try to destroy her car?