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Tuesday, July 5, 2011

What I've Learned by Lindsay Klug


I'm thrilled to welcome Lindsay Klug, author of What I've Learned. Lindsay's newest book is sizzling contemporary suspense, a great beach read. She's sharing an excerpt below. Enjoy!


Blurb:Abigail Jones is a former prostitute who buys her freedom from a Mexican cartel boss and forges a new life. Secure in the knowledge that she's escaped her past, Abigail's world falls apart when her brother's head is delivered to her in a brown paper box. And when the cartel boss sends an assassin to take her life, Abigail can't deny the danger she faces.


Encumbered with her brother's infant son and gripped by fear, Abby shares her story and the evidence her brother accumulated about the cartel to the police and finds herself abruptly thrust into Witness Protection. Beginning a new life as Quinn, the recently divorced mother of little Paul and middle school guidance counselor, Abby is moved to a quiet neighborhood with quaint houses and white picket fences.


While Abby struggles to recreate herself and tries to focus on conforming to the rules of the program, not to mention life with a small child, the cartel continues their search for her. And although life seems to slowly return to some form of normalcy, little does Abby know that her past is slowly closing in on her.
Available here:
http://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-whati039velearned-563936-148.html

Published By: Rebel Ink Press LLC

Published: Jun 17, 2011
ISBN # 9781937265045
Word Count: 44,800
Heat Index: 3 Flames

EXCERPT

 
A single drop of tequila hovers at the edge of the glass as I contemplate its short life. The liquid jetted into the shot glass a short while ago as a whole. Now all that’s left is this tiny drop. It glints in the light, reflecting the world back, and hesitates. To drop to the cold hard surface or fall back into the relative comfort of the known in the bottom of the shot glass?


That’s essentially the question I’ve asked myself for most of my wretched life. My name is Abby, though my clientele know me better as Shay. My given name is Abigail and my middle name is Shay. I was brought into a hard lifestyle when I was merely three years old; an existence filled with drugs and men; sex and rape and beatings. Melody told me once I'd been brought in from the night, an orphan of a rather large tornado which saw both of my parents killed and left my older brother and me to wander the streets and scrounge for food and shelter.


I don’t remember anything before Melody, so who was I to argue it?


My brother Joey was sent to Mexico to live in the villa with the other boys who would become the henchmen of the cartel that owned us while I stayed in El Paso, Texas. Joey rose quickly through the ranks and just as quickly he forgot about his dear little sister. In fact, the only calls I got from him were the calls telling me I had a job.

Melody was my mentor, of sorts. The cartel relinquished me to her care when I was brought in off the streets and she was the only mother I ever knew. She taught me to shut my mouth and take what was given to me but always to get the money first. She taught me how to take the beatings like a true champ. Most importantly, Melody taught me how to survive in the industry, such as it’s called. When Melody was in a bad situation with a John, being beaten or worse, I used to retreat to my room and pretend Barbie was a prostitute. That role playing prepared me for life. Melody taught me to read and write and since the time I was five, I’ve devoured books across the board from romances to books about sex to refining my methods to calculus to Darwinism and even a fucking Bible once.

It was at the end of that particular book when I knew God had forsaken me. It was a life changing event and one I don’t take lightly.

Melody protected me until the day my boobs sprouted. When the henchmen came and forcibly took me away, she waved and wished me luck. Even then, I loved her. I thought that’s what mothers do, you know? They watch their little ones go off into the world. And that’s exactly what Melody did.

Anyway, after a long trip into Mexico to a villa outside of a small town, I was introduced to a young man named Pablo. At fifteen, he was about two years my senior and he led me to a small but elaborately decorated room. It had a bed with a thick quilt and a wardrobe and a bathroom all to itself!

Pablo helped me find the dress I would wear that first night to meet the men. He waited patiently while I showered and he helped me into the flowing silk masterpiece. It had a low back, dipping all the way down to expose all of my skin and a high necked front. He arranged my hair and left my face untouched, and when Pablo was done he gasped and clapped. He only spoke Spanish but that was okay. I learned Spanish from Melody. Pablo told me I looked so beautiful and I was sure to find a good man tonight. Meanwhile, I self-consciously glanced in the mirror. Melody said I had blossomed into a rose among the thorns with my ample cleavage and thick, curly blond hair. She said my bright blue eyes were the icing on the cake.

Being a cake with icing is a curse, let me tell you.

Pablo escorted me down the stairs and handed me off to Joey. My dear brother advised me not to cry and to try and act naturally. He promised I wouldn’t get hurt. And then he unleashed the wolves on me.

The men stared as I walked in, obviously surprised by the pretty little thing being offered to them. An old man to my right tugged my arm until I fell against him, my awkward high heels failing me. He leered and chuckled and tried to whisper in my ear but I gagged because his breath smelled overwhelmingly like tequila and shrimp.

Visit Lindsay's Blog:
http://www.ichbineinteufel.blogspot.com/



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