Thank you for joining us on the Virtual Book Tour for Hindu Sex Aliens, a Hindu Sex Alien Satire, a Horror Dark Comedy by Larry Weiner (27 September 2015, Forsaken, 220 pages). This is the third book in the The Island Trilogy. All books in the series are currently on sale for 99 pence / cents!!!
PREVIEW: Check out the book's synopsis and excerpt below, as well as information about the other titles in the series. Read the Prologue and the first two chapters with Amazon Look Inside.
Please do take part: comment on our post and follow the tour where you will be able to read other excerpts (☀), interviews (ℚ), reviews (✍) and guest blog posts (✉).
Synopsis | Teaser | The Series | About the Author | Tour Stops
Synopsis
“Hmmm … let’s see. Beautiful islands. Check. Friendly undead. Check. Reminders of bloodshed and death everywhere we look ... I dunno, hon. It’s a mixed bag.”The band’s getting back together once more. But this time, nobody’s feeling it.
The bicker gang of PARADISE ROT and ONCE AGAIN, WITH BLOOD is rapidly losing its taste for luring clueless Middle Americans to obscure tropical-island resorts. Not to mention unwittingly luring them into the clutches of the local ancient undead. Or having to rescue said morons from said bloodslurpers and fleshsnackers.
But here they are — Cate Hendricks and fellow ad creative/nutjob/horndog Kyle Brightman chief among them — on the Indian Ocean island of Soma Indra. Putting together another first-rate ad campaign. Pulling together another train-wreck assortment of guests: Burned-out suburban housewives who are semi-sick of men and seeking sisterhood through yoga sessions. Socially inept software engineers who may or may not be aliens looking to screw their way to species perpetuation. Oh, and did we mention the thousands of Hindu deities looking to rewrite the Kama Sutra during their annual R&R retreat?
Yeeeeaaaaaah. This should go well.
Especially when the gang runs into its most insidious and powerful nemesis yet: Larry Weiner. How does this therapy-addled, midlife-crisis dingus know who they are? Where they’re from? How they think? And what evil plans does he have for them? And why do they want to be thoughtful, responsible grownup-type adults all of a sudden?
Part meta-fiction, part Metamucil, HINDU SEX ALIENS is the cerebrally comic conclusion to Larry Weiner’s uproarious trouble-in-paradise trilogy.
Teaser: Excerpt
“THIS ROOM LOOKS Jackson Pollacked. Is that a thing? An adjective, maybe? To get ‘Jackson Pollacked?’ There was a time when this would’ve grossed me out. But then, I’ve seen things. And now, well, all I can think of is that some unlucky bastard has to clean all of this up.”
Kyle Brightman stood in the conference room, hands in pockets, looking around at walls covered with blood splatter, bits of organ meat, and flesh. Tendons and bone lay strewn about on the conference table—you could see where the kill had been by the small mound of muscle tissue and a human skull. It looked as if someone had popped the cork on a gigantic champagne bottle full of human remains and, voila! Conference room Lee Marvin (Kyle had named most of the conference rooms) had become, as Kyle put it, Jackson Pollacked.
Cate Hendricks, looking as if she’d been dipped into a vat of blood, sat spent in a chair, her legs splayed, still wearing her pair of purple Converses with the white star. She gazed at the floor rug, studying the pattern of blood and human tissue. To Kyle, she looked like a predator having consumed its prey after a kill. Which, in Cate’s case, was called Mandy Newberger.
Leaning up against a wall, arms folded, Dory Parthenia cradled her iPhone between her shoulder and ear. Kyle had always marveled at the way she could do that—not just the manner in which she could converse while doing something else, usually typing on a laptop, but the actual way she was able to cradle the phone. Kyle had tried it a few times and cracked his Han Solo-frozen-in-carbonite phone case after dropping it.
“Uh-huh… uh-huh… It’s in pretty bad shape. Uh-huh… Yeah, maybe four. I dunno. We might have to rip everything up and replace it. The table’s in good shape, just covered with blood and guts. Know what? Order a new table. I never liked the ones we picked. Tastes change… Uh-huh… Right, just put it under construction costs. Same for Katharine Hepburn. Uh-huh… Try Design Within Reach—oh, you know what? Check out Hive. Yeah. Okay. Thanks.”
Dory let the phone slip off her shoulder and into her hand; Kyle was once again impressed by her phone-handling gymnastics. “Not the best meeting we’ve ever had,” she said.
“I leave you kids alone for one minute and look what happens,” Kyle said. “Last time I get coffee during client feedback.”
“We both know that’s not true.”
“Right?”
The two of them looked at Cate. They weren’t at the worried stage just yet. Zombies often looked comatose after a feeding—or, in this case, a feast, as Mandy was a big girl.
“So, Cate. Hon? What was the trigger word?” Kyle asked. He walked over to her and kneeled. Cate retained her thousand-yard stare. “Copy changes? Did she try to rewrite the headline? They do that. Bastards. Everybody has to have input these days. I suppose it’s always been that way. Was when I started out in the biz, and that was almost fifteen years ago. Can you imagine someone checking out the Sistine chapel and going ‘meh’? Not that we’re creating masterpieces here, but still—”
“I’ve hit my wall,” Cate mumbled. And then she slid off the chair onto the blood-drenched floor. She was out.
Kyle Brightman stood in the conference room, hands in pockets, looking around at walls covered with blood splatter, bits of organ meat, and flesh. Tendons and bone lay strewn about on the conference table—you could see where the kill had been by the small mound of muscle tissue and a human skull. It looked as if someone had popped the cork on a gigantic champagne bottle full of human remains and, voila! Conference room Lee Marvin (Kyle had named most of the conference rooms) had become, as Kyle put it, Jackson Pollacked.
Cate Hendricks, looking as if she’d been dipped into a vat of blood, sat spent in a chair, her legs splayed, still wearing her pair of purple Converses with the white star. She gazed at the floor rug, studying the pattern of blood and human tissue. To Kyle, she looked like a predator having consumed its prey after a kill. Which, in Cate’s case, was called Mandy Newberger.
Leaning up against a wall, arms folded, Dory Parthenia cradled her iPhone between her shoulder and ear. Kyle had always marveled at the way she could do that—not just the manner in which she could converse while doing something else, usually typing on a laptop, but the actual way she was able to cradle the phone. Kyle had tried it a few times and cracked his Han Solo-frozen-in-carbonite phone case after dropping it.
“Uh-huh… uh-huh… It’s in pretty bad shape. Uh-huh… Yeah, maybe four. I dunno. We might have to rip everything up and replace it. The table’s in good shape, just covered with blood and guts. Know what? Order a new table. I never liked the ones we picked. Tastes change… Uh-huh… Right, just put it under construction costs. Same for Katharine Hepburn. Uh-huh… Try Design Within Reach—oh, you know what? Check out Hive. Yeah. Okay. Thanks.”
Dory let the phone slip off her shoulder and into her hand; Kyle was once again impressed by her phone-handling gymnastics. “Not the best meeting we’ve ever had,” she said.
“I leave you kids alone for one minute and look what happens,” Kyle said. “Last time I get coffee during client feedback.”
“We both know that’s not true.”
“Right?”
The two of them looked at Cate. They weren’t at the worried stage just yet. Zombies often looked comatose after a feeding—or, in this case, a feast, as Mandy was a big girl.
“So, Cate. Hon? What was the trigger word?” Kyle asked. He walked over to her and kneeled. Cate retained her thousand-yard stare. “Copy changes? Did she try to rewrite the headline? They do that. Bastards. Everybody has to have input these days. I suppose it’s always been that way. Was when I started out in the biz, and that was almost fifteen years ago. Can you imagine someone checking out the Sistine chapel and going ‘meh’? Not that we’re creating masterpieces here, but still—”
“I’ve hit my wall,” Cate mumbled. And then she slid off the chair onto the blood-drenched floor. She was out.
Hindu Sex Aliens
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The Series: The Island Trilogy
Paradise Rot | Once Again, With Blood |Click on the book cover to Look Inside the book on Amazon and read an excerpt.
Paradise Rot [1]
Kyle Brightman—late of the advertising industry and soon-to-be-late of the 5th floor psych ward—has a job offer he can’t refuse. A new resort in the Caribbean is looking for an art director. Kyle soon finds himself on the Isle of St. Agrippina working alongside a beautiful copywriter with an icy handshake.
Questions arise: Why does the resort management team sport spray-on tans in the Bahamas? How can the resort offer such cheap vacation packages? What does one do with vats of Astroglide? To get the answers, Kyle must first navigate a series of wildly unpredictable events with a cast of even more wildly unpredictable characters, including a seductress jungle assassin, her partially paralyzed talking Chihuahua, an Ivy League Rastafarian seaplane captain, Kyle’s ex-psych ward roommate, a former Haliburton mercenary, and a French tavern owner with a fondness for goats, all set to the greatest hits of the 70’s. Pablo Cruise never felt so right.
[First Published 19 August 2013, Published by BookTrope 30 May 2015, 226 pages]
Once Again, With Blood [2]
"We're getting the band back together!"
For Kyle Brightman, bipolar advertising-industry burnout, this is good news and bad news. Good, because he'll get to see his zombie-killing friends again, and be reunited with Cate, the zombie he loves (yeah, yeah, I know, read PARADISE ROT and you'll get it). Bad, because having to blast his way through battalions of bloodless corpses took a brutal toll on Kyle's already fragile psyche. But duty, and booty, calls. And soon Kyle finds himself on another tropical island, duped again into creating an ad campaign to lure unsuspecting Middle Americans into the greedy mouth of ancient madness.
This time, it's vampires. But with the help of a) his comrades-in-ass-kicking; b) the love of a good (cold) woman; c) the enduring power of Herb Alpert; and d) the awesomeness that is Charo, Kyle just might find a way to save thousands of lives. And what little's left of his sanity.
Splattered with folklore, dripping with history, ONCE AGAIN, WITH BLOOD, Larry Weiner's sequel to the uproarious comic romp PARADISE ROT, is what you get if Jimmy Buffett, Carl Hiaasen, Sarah Silverman and Hunter S. Thompson took turns pummeling Anne Rice with a cricket bat.
[First Published 1 January 2014, this 2nd Edition published 11 August 2015, 220 pages]
About the Author
Larry Weiner is the author of The Island Trilogy.
Larry earned a degree in film from CSULA and was an award-winning art director.
He lives on an island in the Pacific Northwest with his wife, two kids and a gaggle of animals.
He plays bass and thus has poor hearing.
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Tour Stops
Follow Hindu Sex Aliens's tour at:
Oct 5 ☀Teatime and Books
Oct 5 ☀3 Partners In Shopping, Nana, Mommy and Sissy
Oct 6 ☀Around the World in Books
Oct 7 ☀A Bookaholic’s Fix: Feeding the Addiction
Oct 8 ☀Deal Sharing Aunt
Oct 9 ℚBooksChatter
Oct 9 Guest Blog Brayton’s Briefs
Oct 5 ☀3 Partners In Shopping, Nana, Mommy and Sissy
Oct 6 ☀Around the World in Books
Oct 7 ☀A Bookaholic’s Fix: Feeding the Addiction
Oct 8 ☀Deal Sharing Aunt
Oct 9 ℚBooksChatter
Oct 9 Guest Blog Brayton’s Briefs
Oct 12 ☀Zenny's Awesome Book Reviews
Oct 13 ☀ ✍The Bookie Monster
Oct 14 Guest Blog Fang-tastic Books
Oct 15 ☀Roxanne’s Realm
Oct 16 Guest Blog The Creatively Green Write at Home Mom
Oct 19 Guest Blog Horror Made
Oct 19 ☀Lisa’s World of Books
Oct 13 ☀ ✍The Bookie Monster
Oct 14 Guest Blog Fang-tastic Books
Oct 15 ☀Roxanne’s Realm
Oct 16 Guest Blog The Creatively Green Write at Home Mom
Oct 19 Guest Blog Horror Made
Oct 19 ☀Lisa’s World of Books
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