Kindle Price: $0.99
Available from:
Amazon US Kindle
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Author's websites:www.richardbrownbooks.com
Something wicked has returned to Elmwood, and it longs to continue the study it began over a century ago. It's looking for volunteers, but few seem worthy of the gift. Isaac Winters might be the one. He's a detective with a damaged past, and something to prove.
Still haunted by his wife's murder sixteen years earlier, Isaac has thought more and more about turning in his badge. Over the years, he's seen the worst mankind has to offer. Until now. A strange fire has consumed the life of a young girl. But she won't be the last. There are no witnesses and no evidence except a small stone figurine, a gateway to the past. Accompanied by a partner with questionable experience, Isaac must discover and defeat this faceless villain before it takes from him the greatest reminder of his dead wife.....their daughter.
Still haunted by his wife's murder sixteen years earlier, Isaac has thought more and more about turning in his badge. Over the years, he's seen the worst mankind has to offer. Until now. A strange fire has consumed the life of a young girl. But she won't be the last. There are no witnesses and no evidence except a small stone figurine, a gateway to the past. Accompanied by a partner with questionable experience, Isaac must discover and defeat this faceless villain before it takes from him the greatest reminder of his dead wife.....their daughter.
Excerpt
As he stepped past the stairs, his eyes still focused on the broken window, Isaac heard a slight click sound come from the left of him. He knew the sound. It was the sound of a hammer being cocked back, a cylinder rotating.
He twisted to his left and pointed the 9mm into the dark crawl space behind the stairs. He didn’t move or blink, nor did he breathe. His index finger quivered on the cold, oily trigger of the gun.
What are you waiting for?
Before he could act, a brilliant flash of light robbed his sight, and an enormous wave of pressure (like the force of two storms colliding) pulsated through his body. Falling backward, he heard nothing, not rain, nor thunder, just silence—peaceful and undisturbed.
Upon hitting the floor, a sharp pain clambered up the ladder of Isaac’s spine to his left shoulder. Without thought, he sealed a hand over the broken skin. Seconds later, two large boots walked into his sight, and when he looked up, he saw the .38 caliber revolver pointed at his head. Lying on his back, Isaac could see directly up the silver barrel; it seemed a mile wide and many oceans deep.
Apparently satisfied, the intruder pulled the revolver away and turned toward the staircase. On the stairs, his soppy boots thumped and whined against the wood.
Isaac got to his feet, saw the black pistol lying on the floor a few feet behind him, and staggered over to pick it up. Then he walked to the staircase, leaned on the handrail, and applied more pressure to his left shoulder. At the top of the stairs, the dark intruder looked both directions down the hall, and then turned right.
He’s heading for my bedroom, for Linda!
Isaac hobbled up the stairs, gripping the wooden handrail. From above, he could hear banging on the bedroom door and his wife desperately crying out.
Isaac! Isaac! Help!
Hearing her scream only made him try harder to push his bleeding body up the stairs.
As he stepped past the stairs, his eyes still focused on the broken window, Isaac heard a slight click sound come from the left of him. He knew the sound. It was the sound of a hammer being cocked back, a cylinder rotating.
He twisted to his left and pointed the 9mm into the dark crawl space behind the stairs. He didn’t move or blink, nor did he breathe. His index finger quivered on the cold, oily trigger of the gun.
What are you waiting for?
Before he could act, a brilliant flash of light robbed his sight, and an enormous wave of pressure (like the force of two storms colliding) pulsated through his body. Falling backward, he heard nothing, not rain, nor thunder, just silence—peaceful and undisturbed.
Upon hitting the floor, a sharp pain clambered up the ladder of Isaac’s spine to his left shoulder. Without thought, he sealed a hand over the broken skin. Seconds later, two large boots walked into his sight, and when he looked up, he saw the .38 caliber revolver pointed at his head. Lying on his back, Isaac could see directly up the silver barrel; it seemed a mile wide and many oceans deep.
Apparently satisfied, the intruder pulled the revolver away and turned toward the staircase. On the stairs, his soppy boots thumped and whined against the wood.
Isaac got to his feet, saw the black pistol lying on the floor a few feet behind him, and staggered over to pick it up. Then he walked to the staircase, leaned on the handrail, and applied more pressure to his left shoulder. At the top of the stairs, the dark intruder looked both directions down the hall, and then turned right.
He’s heading for my bedroom, for Linda!
Isaac hobbled up the stairs, gripping the wooden handrail. From above, he could hear banging on the bedroom door and his wife desperately crying out.
Isaac! Isaac! Help!
Hearing her scream only made him try harder to push his bleeding body up the stairs.
About Richard Brown
Aside from writing, Richard enjoys spending time with his daughter, girlfriend, three dogs, watching mixed martial arts, singing karaoke, debating politics, and dressing up for crazy photo shoots. He's often told that he has a dry or sarcastic sense of humor, and that he has a body like a Greek God. The first one is probably not true.
Interview with Richard Brown
N.L. Earnshaw: What will readers like about your book?
Richard Brown: The Gift of Illusion is a fast-paced thriller that grabs the reader form the first page and never lets up. I think people will be able to develop an emotional connection with the characters and their struggles.
N.L. Earnshaw: Why did you self publish?
N.L. Earnshaw: Why did you self publish?
Richard Brown: Why not? It gives me full control over my work and a higher share of the profit.
N.L. Earnshaw: How long does it take you to write your first draft?
Richard Brown: It took me two years to write the first draft, though I took quite a bit of time off in the middle. Admittedly, the first draft wasn't very good. It was over 100,000 words and full of unnecessary fat. I've since trimmed it down to under 70,000 words and it looks and feels much better now.
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