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That was Marshall McLuhan's advice anyway. I invite readers to submit their own or other works (pg. 69 only of course!) via the Contact Form here.

That was Marshall McLuhan’s advice anyway. I invite readers to submit their own or other works (pg. 69 only of course!) via the Contact Form here.

Today I’m excited to present page 69 Challenge excerpts from husband and wife authors with two very different books!


~~**Challenge 1**~~

The Prophecy [The Fulfillment Series – Book 1]

Genre: YA Fantasy Trilogy

The Prophecy

Growing up on a small farm in the kingdom of Vanguard, seventeen-year-old Layla Givens lives a deceptively tranquil existence. But her carefully constructed life quickly falls apart when she’s abducted by a religious zealot who proclaims her The Fulfillment of an ancient peace prophecy and whisks her away to marry her greatest enemy.

Wilhelm, Prince of the Ethereals, is reluctant to meet his new bride. He’s grown up believing Vanguards are evil, an enemy to fight and fear…not love. Can he set aside his prejudices and work alongside Layla to bring lasting peace after centuries of war?

Nash, a loner who has never fit in, carries a huge secret, one big enough to destroy both kingdoms. When he accidently meets Layla, he’s no longer content to live in the shadows, but he must resist his growing attraction—for her safety and for the longevity of the two kingdoms.

When Nash’s secret is revealed, a firestorm sweeps through both realms, with Layla at the center. Now she must choose between duty and desire while the fate of two nations hangs in the balance.

 


Page 69 Excerpt:   The Prophecy (BookFish Books LLC (September 29, 2014)

Erin Rhew is an editor, a running coach, and the author of The Fulfillment Series. Since she picked up Morris the Moose Goes to School at age four, she has been infatuated with the written word. She went on to work as a grammar and writing tutor in college and is still teased by her family and friends for being a member of the "Grammar Police." A Southern girl by blood and birth, Erin now lives in a rainy pocket of the Pacific Northwest with her amazingly talented (and totally handsome) author husband, Deek Rhew, and their patient-as-a-saint writing assistant, a tabby cat named Trinity. She and Deek enjoy reading aloud to one another, running, lifting, boxing, eating chocolate, and writing side-by-side.

Erin Rhew is an editor, a running coach, and the author of The Fulfillment Series. Since she picked up Morris the Moose Goes to School at age four, she has been infatuated with the written word. She went on to work as a grammar and writing tutor in college and is still teased by her family and friends for being a member of the “Grammar Police.”
A Southern girl by blood and birth, Erin now lives in a rainy pocket of the Pacific Northwest with her amazingly talented (and totally handsome) author husband, Deek Rhew, and their patient-as-a-saint writing assistant, a tabby cat named Trinity. She and Deek enjoy reading aloud to one another, running, lifting, boxing, eating chocolate, and writing side-by-side.

“Where are you taking me?” She turned slightly, keeping her balance on the saddle, to catch a glimpse of his face.

“Where you seemed to be headed before Prince Vance attacked you…to the river that borders Vanguard and Etherea.” His green eyes radiated truth.

Relief flooded through her as she turned back toward the front. Even though she’d rather pluck her eyes out than meet her mortal enemy turned betrothed, Layla had to protect Samson. She had to go to Etherea and play the role of the Fulfillment for just a little bit longer.

“So you know who I am then.” She said it as a statement, rather than a question.

“Should I?”

“I am no one.” Risking his wrath, she imitated his earlier inflection.

To her surprise, his laughter rang out heartily. She found herself smiling in response.

“I think we’re far enough away now.” Nash yanked back on the reins to slow his horse. “We’ll stop for a bite to eat.”

Without giving her a chance to protest, he helped her off the horse and settled her against a tree. He pulled two apples from his saddlebag and handed one to Layla. She devoured it.

“Slow down.” Nash chuckled softly. “You’ll get a stomachache. I have more food if you need it.”

She grasped for an explanation, juice running down her chin. “It’s just that I haven’t eaten in a while.”

He rummaged around in his bag again and came up with a large chunk of bread and wedge of cheese. She accepted them with a sheepish but grateful grin. Halfway through the bread, she stopped and, remembering her manners, offered him a piece.

“Thank you, but you can have it. You seem to need it more than I do.” He finished off his apple, stood, and wiped his hands on his pants. “I’m going to go find some sticks to make a splint for your arm.”

“But…” Layla hesitated. If he left, she would be alone, in an unfamiliar part of the world with Prince Vance and his men in pursuit.

“I promise not to go far.” Her face grew warm at his attempt to reassure her. She hated to seem weak or helpless. “If anyone comes, kick them in that direction.” He pointed to a more densely wooded area, stifling a smile. She stuck out her tongue, but her lips turned up into a wide grin.

Sounds good? Get more information or your copy of The Prophecy from: 

 

~~**Challenge 2**~~

122 Rules [The 122 Series, Book 1] by Deek Rhew

122 RulesGenre: Thriller
 
In his black and white world, Sam Bradford–former Marine turned government assassin–finally sees a speck of grey. He has always followed orders without question, but his latest assignment threatens to disrupt the precision of his universe and may either severe or redeem his last remaining sliver of humanity.Using his mastery of the 122 Rules of Psychology, Sam hunts down everyone The Agency sends him to find and eliminates them. Just as he has his rifle scope focused on his latest victim, Monica Sable, a SoCal girl entangled with the mob, his long-dormant conscience reappears for a final performance…one last ditch effort to save the sinking ship of Sam’s soul. He’s killed innocents before, but tarries on pulling the trigger this time.When Monica escapes his crosshairs and fumbles her way across the country in a pathetic attempt to elude capture, Sam gives chase. But he’s not the only one after her. Ruthless henchmen, hired by the mob, froth like bloodhounds and nip at Monica’s heels. Now Sam is faced with a choice: turn his back on the rules and jeopardize his way of life by helping her or join the pack and rip her to shreds.


Page 69 Excerpt: (Pandamoon Publishing; 1 edition (April 5, 2016))

Deek Rhew lives in a rainy pocket in the Pacific Northwest with the stunning YA author bride, Erin Rhew, and their writing assistant, a fat tabby named Trinity. They enjoy lingering in the mornings, and often late into the night, caught up Erin’s fantastic fantasy worlds of noble princes and knights and entwined in Deek’s dark underworld of the FBI and drug lords. He and Erin love to share books by reading aloud to one another. In addition, they enjoy spending time with friends, running, boxing, lifting weights, and exploring the little town--with antique shops and bakeries--they call home.

Deek Rhew lives in a rainy pocket in the Pacific Northwest with the stunning YA author bride, Erin Rhew, and their writing assistant, a fat tabby named Trinity. They enjoy lingering in the mornings, and often late into the night, caught up Erin’s fantastic fantasy worlds of noble princes and knights and entwined in Deek’s dark underworld of the FBI and drug lords.
He and Erin love to share books by reading aloud to one another. In addition, they enjoy spending time with friends, running, boxing, lifting weights, and exploring the little town–with antique shops and bakeries–they call home.

She flipped the page, starting a new chapter, and had only read the first passage when something caught her attention. At first, she couldn’t figure out what had interrupted her concentration, but then her mind registered the quiet. Not even the rhythmical moaning and squeaking of bedsprings that echoed through the apartment on so many nights disturbed the heavy stillness. The ominous silence caused the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end, and she turned over, staring at the ceiling, waiting for something to happen.

She didn’t have to wait long. Heavy footsteps echoed just beyond her door. They stopped. Cheap hinges squeaked, a quiet grunt, a latch clicking shut, and then the footsteps resumed. In the center of the narrow, three-door hallway hung a single bare bulb on a short, kinked wire. She imagined the man as he walked under that light, the chain Monica had to stretch on tiptoe to reach brushing his shoulder as he passed beneath it.

The light from the naked bulb spilled under her door, creating a luminescent mat that quickly faded to darkness as it misted across the grimy linoleum. Two heavy shadows that could only be a pair of very large feet broke the illumination.

Monica moved to the far side of the bed, back against the wall. She shut her eyes and willed him to move on down the hall, out of the apartment, returning to whatever rat hole he’d crawled from.

It didn’t work.

The cheap brass handle rattled then turned. As her door eased open, the quiet screech of unoiled hinges echoed louder than anything she’d ever heard in her life. Amplified a thousand times over by her electrified nerves, the sound screamed through her head, so loud it muffled the rapid beat of her heart.

She opened her eyes. The large man stood backlit by the bare bulb on the thin, kinked wire. The face, cast in shadows, had no distinguishing features, but she didn’t need to see it to know what it looked like. She’d seen it a thousand times before in the line of empty-eyed men her mother paraded through her life. Each of them bore the same knowing, lecherous grin of a predator making an easy score with the pretty widow.

The faceless man stepped across the threshold and closed the door behind him. The quiet snick of the latch in the jam resonated as ominous and final as the sealing of a sarcophagus. She didn’t know what he wanted, but her mind offered up a half dozen possibilities, not one of them a day at Disneyland.

Time slowed to a gelatinous pace.

She looked deep into the gloom, but no matter how hard she peered, the blur refused to focus, as if he were not a man at all, but the idea of a man. As if the artist of this image, unsure of how to accurately reproduce the intricate contours and angles of the human face, instead chose to leave the details vague. The man’s eyes, the mere intentions of orbs, lacked definition, but nevertheless, their cruel intent was implicit as they gazed out of the dusty light, watching her.

Just as she started to wonder if maybe his perversion stopped at the observation of children as they slumbered, time slipped forward, making up for its previous sluggishness, and he appeared at the edge of her bed. He hadn’t taken a single step, but the ghost now solidified and towered above her.

Sounds good? Get more information or your copy of 122 Rules [The 122 Series, Book 1] by Deek Rhew from:

 

I would really love to feature your Page 69! Use Contact Form here to submit your favorite Pg 69 (your own or other’s work) 

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