Tag: News/Misc Page 10 of 29

This is a weekly bloghop hosted by Freda’s Voice.

RULES:
Grab a book, any book.
Turn to Page 56 or 56% on your ereader. If you have to improvise, that is okay.
Find a snippet, short and sweet.
Post it.

from Page 56 of:

Sacrifices by Jamie Schultz

“You know they’re chock-full of demons, right?”

“I don’t know that. This is the twenty-first century. We tend to be extremely careful about calling aberrant behavior demonic possession when it might simply be mental illness.”

“Seriously? Under these circumstances?”

“None of them appear to have any history with the occult, that I can turn up, let alone the kind of lengthy history that results in end-stage possession . . .” Elliot spoke quickly and precisely, dressed it all up with technical-sounding jargon, but a note of uncertainty clung to her voice like a parasite, sucking the life out of it.

This is a weekly bloghop hosted by Freda’s Voice.

RULES:
Grab a book, any book.
Turn to Page 56 or 56% on your ereader. If you have to improvise, that is okay.
Find a snippet, short and sweet.
Post it.

from Page 56 of:

Aether Powered by James T. Lambert

…if I figured it out myself, I could make even more. Build flying cars. Hell, sell conversion kits to make regular cars fly! Airplanes without wings, no airports, and a lot less fuel. Replace Boeing. Why think small? Replace NASA and build ships that go to the moon without fuel. Mars in days instead of months. And no weight limits.

Carol must have seen my eyes glaze over. “Snap out of it! You aren’t Henry Ford. Hell, you’re not Ford Fairlane! You know nothing about manufacturing, venture capital, entrepreneurship, or even patent law. Yeah, someone could turn this into a multi-billion-dollar industry, but you are not that guy. Take the money and run.”

This is a weekly bloghop hosted by Freda’s Voice.

RULES:
Grab a book, any book.
Turn to Page 56 or 56% on your ereader. If you have to improvise, that is okay.
Find a snippet, short and sweet.
Post it.

from Page 56 of:

Dead Lions by Mick Herron

She said to Ho, “You don’t have to tell us anything you don’t want to.”

As an interrogation technique, thought River, this lacked bite.

This is a weekly bloghop hosted by Freda’s Voice.

RULES:
Grab a book, any book.
Turn to Page 56 or 56% on your ereader. If you have to improvise, that is okay.
Find a snippet, short and sweet.
Post it.

from Page 56 of:

Theft of Swords by Michael J. Sullivan

The room was unused.

Hadrian remained silent near the window as Royce moved across the room to the door. He watched as the thief’s feet tested the surface of the floor before committing his weight. Royce mentioned once how he had been in an attic on a job when he hit a weak board and fell through the bedroom ceiling. This floor was stone, but even stones sometimes had loose mortar or contained hidden traps or alarms. Royce made it to the door, where he crouched and paused to listen. He motioned a sign for walking with his hand and then began counting on his fingers for Hadrian to see. There was a pause, and then he repeated the signal. Hadrian crossed the room to join his friend and the two sat waiting for several minutes in silence.

Eventually Royce lifted the latch with gloved hands but did not open the door. Outside they could hear the heavy footfalls of hard boots on stone, first one set, and then a second. As the steps faded, Royce opened the door slightly and peered out. The hall was empty.

This is a weekly bloghop hosted by Freda’s Voice.

RULES:
Grab a book, any book.
Turn to Page 56 or 56% on your ereader. If you have to improvise, that is okay.
Find a snippet, short and sweet.
Post it.

from Page 56 of:

The Sense of an Ending by Julian Barnes

My mother nodded away as she took all this in.

“You see, I was right.”

“How’s that, Ma?”

“He was too clever. If you’re that clever you can argue yourself into anything. You just leave common sense behind. It’s his brain unhinged him, that’s why he did it.”

“Yes, Ma.”

“Is that all you’ve got to say? You mean you agree?”

Not replying was the only way to keep my temper.