Thank you for joining us on the Virtual Book Tour for The Deepest Dark, a Suspense Thriller by Joan Hall Hovey (10 May 2014, Books We Love Ltd., 238 pages). PREVIEW: Check out the book's synopsis and excerpt below. Read the first three chapters with Amazon Look Inside.
Author Joan Hall Hovey will be awarding a Still Life by Jean Baptiste Oudry from Metropolitan Museum of Art - US, Canada Only. 10 1/2" x 8" Violin, Sheet Music Laminate to a randomly drawn winner via Rafflecopter during the tour. Please do take part: comment on our post and follow the tour where you will be able to read other excerpts (☀), and reviews (✍).
Synopsis | Trailer | Teaser | About the Author | Giveaway & Tour Stops
Synopsis
Following the deaths of her husband, Corey, and ten year old daughter Ellie in a traffic accident, author Abby Miller sinks ever deeper into depression. She contemplates suicide as a way to be with them, and to end her unrelenting pain.In a last desperate effort to find peace, she drives to Loon Lake where they last vacationed together, wanting to believe they will be waiting for her there. At least in spirit. Barring that, the pills Doctor Gregory gave her to help her sleep, are in her purse.
The cabin at Loon Lake was her and Corey’s secret hideaway, and not even Abby’s sister, Karen, to whom she is close, knows where it is.
But someone else does. He is one of three men who have escaped from Pennington prison. They are dangerous predators who will stop at nothing to get what they want - and to keep from going back to prison. Having already committed atrocious crimes, they have nothing to lose.
Unknowingly, Abby is on a collision course with evil itself. And the decision of whether or live or die will soon be wrenched from her hands.
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"...Joan Hall Hovey knows suspense. She keeps it simmering in every scene she writes and knows just the right moments to turn up the heat and bring it all to a boil. THE DEEPEST DARK is a terrific suspense novel." - James Hankins, author of BROTHERS AND BONES and SHADY CROSS
Teaser: Excerpt
As frightened as Ethel was, and she was indeed frightened, she didn’t think his eyes looked sad as much as they looked stupid. And dangerous because of that. A follower. He was the shortest of the three and his foolish grin showed a mouth full of bad teeth. There was a collective stink of wet cloth, body odor and something else that wafted off them like a cloud of evil, contaminating her kitchen. She heard the squeak of Hartley’s chair as he lowered the footrest. Oh, dear.
The man who had been doing the talking glanced away from the one he called Dog and raised an eyebrow at Hartley who came hobbling into the kitchen just then, his face flushed with anger. “You busted in my damn door. What do you fellas want? Get the hell out of...”
No, Hartley, no, Ethel begged silently, but before he could even finish his sentence, the biggest man, the one called Tattoo, back-handed him across the face, slamming Hartley into the kitchen wall, sending one of the pots flying off its hook and clanging across the floor. Ethel cried out, feeling as if she’d been struck, too. Her arms reached out instinctively to her husband, and it was then that she realized she still held the knife in her hand. She had taken it out of the drawer to slice the pie. The big man was about to strike Hartley again, and she tried to drive the blade into his back. The blade barely pierced the skin, causing only a superficial wound, but still managed to raise a holler from Hartley’s attacker.
The other man grabbed her by both arms and tried to force her into a chair, yelling into her face to sit down. In his day Hartley could have given either one of them a run for his money.Hartley always could handle himself. Even now he was struggling to get to his feet and fight back, but the man hit him again, with his closed fist this time. When Hartley went down again the man followed up with a vicious kick to his bad hip. Hartley groaned. Ethel was out of the chair and screaming for the man to stop, falling to her knees beside her husband, tears streaming down her face.
The man who had asked for the pie, who had forced her into the chair, the apparent leader of this pack of thugs, said, “Sorry about old Tattoo, there, Ma’am.” Ethel was crying so hard she could hardly see him.
“He can get pretty nasty when riled,” the man continued. “Your husband shouldn’t have been so inhospitable.” He took the knife from her hand. (with a spot of Tattoo’s blood on it) “Poor old fella doesn’t look too good, does he. It’s his own fault, you know that’s true. Now if you’ll just muster up that coffee, maybe I can get my friend to calm down.”
“He’s not breathing,” she cried. “I have to call an ambulance. Oh, Hartley.” She dashed for the phone in the living room, but Tattoo’s arm shot out and he grabbed her by her thin, white hair and yanked her back. Ethel turned and began to beat at him with her small arthritic fists, screaming her rage at him as she did. Tattoo struck her hard in the face and she fell silent to the floor. Then he picked her up and threw her bodily across the room.
Donnie Leaman (Dog) looked away, while Ken Roach looked on helplessly at the railing madman in the kitchen. They shouldn’t have come here, Ken Roach thought. It was a mistake.But too late now for regrets. What’s done is done.
The man who had been doing the talking glanced away from the one he called Dog and raised an eyebrow at Hartley who came hobbling into the kitchen just then, his face flushed with anger. “You busted in my damn door. What do you fellas want? Get the hell out of...”
No, Hartley, no, Ethel begged silently, but before he could even finish his sentence, the biggest man, the one called Tattoo, back-handed him across the face, slamming Hartley into the kitchen wall, sending one of the pots flying off its hook and clanging across the floor. Ethel cried out, feeling as if she’d been struck, too. Her arms reached out instinctively to her husband, and it was then that she realized she still held the knife in her hand. She had taken it out of the drawer to slice the pie. The big man was about to strike Hartley again, and she tried to drive the blade into his back. The blade barely pierced the skin, causing only a superficial wound, but still managed to raise a holler from Hartley’s attacker.
The other man grabbed her by both arms and tried to force her into a chair, yelling into her face to sit down. In his day Hartley could have given either one of them a run for his money.Hartley always could handle himself. Even now he was struggling to get to his feet and fight back, but the man hit him again, with his closed fist this time. When Hartley went down again the man followed up with a vicious kick to his bad hip. Hartley groaned. Ethel was out of the chair and screaming for the man to stop, falling to her knees beside her husband, tears streaming down her face.
The man who had asked for the pie, who had forced her into the chair, the apparent leader of this pack of thugs, said, “Sorry about old Tattoo, there, Ma’am.” Ethel was crying so hard she could hardly see him.
“He can get pretty nasty when riled,” the man continued. “Your husband shouldn’t have been so inhospitable.” He took the knife from her hand. (with a spot of Tattoo’s blood on it) “Poor old fella doesn’t look too good, does he. It’s his own fault, you know that’s true. Now if you’ll just muster up that coffee, maybe I can get my friend to calm down.”
“He’s not breathing,” she cried. “I have to call an ambulance. Oh, Hartley.” She dashed for the phone in the living room, but Tattoo’s arm shot out and he grabbed her by her thin, white hair and yanked her back. Ethel turned and began to beat at him with her small arthritic fists, screaming her rage at him as she did. Tattoo struck her hard in the face and she fell silent to the floor. Then he picked her up and threw her bodily across the room.
Donnie Leaman (Dog) looked away, while Ken Roach looked on helplessly at the railing madman in the kitchen. They shouldn’t have come here, Ken Roach thought. It was a mistake.But too late now for regrets. What’s done is done.
The Deepest Dark
Available NOW!
About the Author
Joan Hall Hovey is the definition of an ‘artist’. From her writing that has taken the form of suspense novels, as well as short stories and articles, this woman has not only taken the suspense world by storm, but also dabbles in the theatre community. In addition to it all, Joan takes the time to work with other authors, giving them the information and help they need to embrace their talent and become a part of the literary world.
Born and raised in Saint John, New Brunswick, Joan has a family she adores; including, Scamp, the family dog. She is blessed to look out every day at the tall pine trees and the stunning view of the Kennebecasis River. But although that view is certainly inspiring, her fans will tell you that it is Joan’s view – the scenes and characters within her own creative mind – that is truly unforgettable. This is a talent who brings vibrancy to the page, creating locations that, even in the light of day, chill fans to the bone.
An insatiable reader, the works of Poe, King, and other masters of the mystery world, inspired Joan to write. And now, with her latest novel – THE DEEPEST DARK – she once again hits the nail on the proverbial head, drawing readers into a world of fear that will leave them absolutely breathless.
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Giveaway and Tour Stops
Enter to win a Still Life by Jean Baptiste Oudry from Metropolitan Museum of Art - US, Canada Only. 10 1/2" x 8" Violin, Sheet Music Laminate – a Rafflecopter giveawayRemember to comment to win!
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6 comments:
Thanks for hosting!
Thank you. Hope you ALL enjoy the book trailer for my suspense novel THE DEEPEST DARK. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wOFddR5pYyA
Good luck!
It's an awesome book and a very, very scary suspense. Jude
Hello Joan! Thank you for visiting us and for giving us the link to your trailer - I have now added it to the post :-)
I hope you are having a great blast!
Flora
Thank you.
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