The
Day Before
by
Liana
Brooks
Author
Bio
Liana
Brooks once read the book GOOD OMENS by Neil Gaiman and Terry
Pratchett and noted that both their biographies invited readers to
send money (or banana daiquiris). That seems to have worked well for
them. Liana prefers strawberry daiquiris (virgin!) and will never say
no to large amounts of cash in unmarked bills.
Her
books are sweet and humorous with just enough edge to keep you
reading past your bedtime.
Liana
was born in San Diego after bouncing around the country she's settled
(temporarily) in the great wilderness of Alaska. She can be found on
Twitter (@LianaBrooks), on FaceBook, and on the web at
www.lianabrooks.com.
Blurb
A body is found in the Alabama wilderness. The question is:
A body is found in the Alabama wilderness. The question is:
Is
it a human corpse … or is it just a piece of discarded property?
Agent
Samantha Rose has been exiled to a backwater assignment for the
Commonwealth Bureau of Investigation, a death knell for her career.
But then Sam catches a break—a murder—that could give her the
boost she needs to get her life back on track. There's a snag,
though: the body is a clone, and technically that means it's not a
homicide. And yet, something about the body raises questions, not
only for her, but for coroner Linsey Mackenzie.
The more
they dig, the more they realize nothing about this case is what it
seems … and for Sam, nothing about Mac is what it seems, either.
This
case might be the way out for her, but that way could be in a
bodybag.
A
thrilling new mystery from Liana Brooks, The Day Before will have you
looking over your shoulder and questioning what it means to be human.
---oOo---
Buy & Social Links
Buy & Social Links
HarperCollins
– http://www.harpercollins.com/9780062407658/the-day-before
Barnes
and Noble –
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-day-before-liana-brooks/1120818378?ean=9780062407658
Website:
http://www.lianabrooks.com
FaceBook:
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Liana-Brooks/278779308851471
Twitter:
https://twitter.com/lianabrooks
Newsletter:
http://lianabrooks.us4.list-manage.com/subscribe?u=675dc6fb70db402b9a2b27c97&id=71396c63a4
WIDGET
<a
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title="Liana Brooks" width="165" / /></a><br
/><br /><br /><div style="text-align:
center;"><br /><span
style="font-size:large;"><b>Coming April 28th,
2015</b></span></div><br /><div
style="text-align: center;"><br /><b>Available
for Pre-Order</b></div><br /><div
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/>
---oOo---
Excerpt
Friday
May 17th, 2069
Alabama District 3
Commonwealth of North America
With
an asthmatic wheeze the engine died. It figured. Stuck in a man’s
craw, it did. This truck had been his daddy’s and his pappy’s,
and before the Commonwealth government forced him to replace the
diesel engine with the newfangled water doohickey, he was certain
he’d pass the truck onto his son.
He’d
been playing under the hood of trucks since he was six and now he was
stranded. Embarrassing, that’s what it was. He climbed out of the
cab to check the engine out of habit. The ice blue block of modern
fuel efficiency stared back. Three hundred bucks it’d cost him,
straight from his pocket.
Oh,
there was a government subsidy, all right. A priority list. Major
Population Centers, they said. Unite the countries of the
Commonwealth on a timeline, they said. And what did all that mean?
It
meant the damn Yankees got upgraded cities and free cars before the
ink was dry on the Constitution and what about the little man? Nobody
thought about the working class. No one cared about a man covered in
oil and grease anymore.
He
thumbed his cellphone on. No reception. Figured.
So
much for the era of new prosperity. He’d hoof it. There was a
little town about five miles down the road where he could call Ricky
to bring a tow truck. It would have been cheaper to pay the diesel
fines than get all this fixed.
Off
schedule. Over budget. Son of a –
He
stared at the distant trees. Well, it wasn’t going to get any
cooler.
He
grabbed his wallet and keys from the cab of his truck. The tree line
looked like a good spot to answer a call from nature, then he’d see
if there weren’t a shortcut through to town. A meadowlark sang. Not
a bad day for a hike. Would’ve been better if it weren’t so
dammed hot, but at least the humidity was low. He wouldn’t like to
walk in a summer monsoon, not at his age with arthritis playing up.
Under
a sprawling oak he unzipped his pants. As an afterthought, he glanced
down to make sure he wouldn’t stir up a hill of fire ants.
A
hand lay next to his boots.
He
blinked, zipped his pants slowly, and turned around. "Hello?"
Cicadas
chirped in answer.
"Are
you drunk?" The quiet field that looked so peaceful only moments
before was now eerily sinister. He nudged the hand with his foot. It
was swollen and pale and crusted with blood, just like a prop out of
a horror movie.
Maybe
it was a good idea to run to the next town.
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