.jpg)
On Tour with Prism Book Tours...
Dead Dreamsby Emma Right
250 Pages
Eighteen-year-old Brie O’Mara has so much going for her: a loving family in the sidelines, an heiress for a roommate, and dreams that might just come true. Big dreams--of going to acting school, finishing college and making a name for herself. She is about to be the envy of everyone she knew. What more could she hope for? Except her dreams are about to lead her down the road to nightmares. Nightmares that could turn into a deadly reality.
Dead Dreams, Book 1, a young adult psychological thriller and mystery
Each Stop Reveals another section of Dead Dreams.
START READING NOW!!
EXCERPT #18
(Chapter Nine continued)
Jim asked, “Does she bring boyfriends here?”
I shook my head. “It’s in our contract. Our landlord specifically stated no wild parties, and so I translated that as no guys overnight. She may have a boyfriend, but she’s never mentioned him.”
“We don’t have much to go on. I got a partial print by the sill, but it could have been one of you girls. Hundreds of prints all over the furniture. I’d need to run the partial print. Do you mind if I get some of my contacts to take a look? I’d need your fingerprints, as well as Sarah’s.”
“Yeah, but don’t tell Sarah. She’s paranoid about privacy. Very into conspiracy theory. Thinks the government may be after her.” I looked about the room and noticed an empty drinking glass on the desk. “Bet you can get her prints off that.” I pointed at the Waterford crystal goblet from her personal collection, which she always set next to her bedside table.
Jim gingerly bagged it. “Expensive taste. Sure she won’t miss it?”
“She has a dozen. Make sure you don’t tell her, though, or anyone else about the prints. Just in case word leaks out. In fact, if you can destroy the prints leading back to us after you’ve used them, it’d be best. She likes to keep her identity secret. Plight of the rich in the first world.” I felt obligated to inform him of the McIntyre wealth, and Jim raised his eyebrows more than once and nodded knowingly.
“And you still think your parents shouldn’t hear about this?” He raised his eyebrows again.
“You don’t know my parents. Finger-in-every-pot sorts of people.”
Jim held his palm out as if to say, “I get it.” He scrunched his mouth and said, “So, only a stolen Rolex?”
I briefed him on my theory about the possibility of the stalker zeroing on Sarah from the Patek Philippe shop. “The one at Stanford Mall.” That was the address the receipt had indicated. “But I don’t have the purchase date. It was torn off.”
“I’ll ask around the stores there,” Jim said, taking a wide tape and imprinted my fingerprints on them.
How had the burglar, a total stranger, known I always cracked that window a tiny gap every night? Or, would he have pried it open if it had been closed? The window had been ajar when Sarah and I had checked the place to see how he’d gotten in. My need to keep the air circulating had been a cause of contention between us since the day she moved in, and now I was filled with remorse for my pigheadedness.
Jim jolted me out of my musing. “I’ll park on Emerson tonight.” He jerked his chin toward the window facing the Street. “Tomorrow morning, my partner—he goes by the name Alias—will take over at six for a couple of hours, till you girls leave for work. When’s the alarm getting put in?”
I didn’t bother to state I’d be out to work by five, as Sarah would be home till at least nine, and I didn’t want her unwatched. I glanced at Sarah’s bedside clock. “Sarah’s making the arrangements. It’s not like her to be late.”
I looked out her bedroom window to the Emerson Street below, but there was no sign of her green coupe. Images of Sarah struggling with the burglar as he’d tried to kidnap her wafted through my head. Perhaps I should have been with her the whole day.
“Your landlord’s okay with the alarm?” Jim asked.
“He’s ecstatic. Sarah’s getting a fancy one, with microphone capacity, so the security company can hear if someone breaks in once the alarm’s set.”
As if on cue, Sarah stepped into the living room. She must have already parked in the basement when I’d looked out.
“Hey!” She extended her hand at Jim, her face slightly flushed.
Jim handed her his business card, which she glanced at and slipped into the dark green notebook. She’d kept it in her Louis Vuitton backpack. I saw for the first time that she had many other name cards tucked between the pages of the book.
Who were these contacts? Would she notice she’d lost Jackson’s? I waited for her to replace the notebook, hoping she wouldn’t see that the card was missing.
That's all folks! Now you need to GET THE BOOK!!!
Emma Right is a happy wife and homeschool mother of five living in the Pacific West Coast. Besides running a busy home, and looking after too many pets, she also enjoys reading aloud to her children and often has her nose in a book. Right was a copywriter for a major advertising agency during her B.C. years. B.C.meaning “Before Children,” which may as well have been in the B.C.era, as she always says. Please feel free to contact Emma. She’s always happy to hear from her readers.
October 29 - December 3
Paperback Copy of Dead Dreams (US Only)
5 eCopies of Dead Dreams (Int'l)
a Rafflecopter giveaway
The Excerpt Tour
Each day will reveal another piece of Dead Dreams...
10/29: Launch
11/20: Grand Finale
