Blog Tour – Page 54

4 STARS!

Filled with bizarre twists and intrigue! By the end of the book, your take on the characters has taken a roller coaster ride back and forth.

Charlie Moshen has died in his bed at age 51. His daughter Petty, was trained to call his friend Randy King if anything ever happened to him. Randy shows up at the house with the police and coroner, and Petty stresses over letting them in the house. No one’s allowed in the house, and Petty isn’t used to being around strangers. She works up the courage to open the door and call off the dogs so they can come in. Sheriff Bloch questions Petty about what happened with her Dad and she answers like a soldier giving report. While upstairs, they can’t help but notice 6 deadbolts on the outside of Petty’s door and ask her about it.

Her father has been locking Petty up at night for most of her 21 years. She hasn’t been allowed to go to school, she doesn’t interact with people, she’s never been inside another building other than her house. She’s been taught to be suspicious of everything, trained to protect herself, trained to kill.

** Received free from Edelweiss to review **

Genre: Thriller/Suspense

Release Date: September 22, 2015

BLURB:

They said she was armed.
They said she was dangerous.
They were right.

Petty Moshen spent eighteen years of her life as a prisoner in her
own home, training with military precision for everything, ready for anything.
She can disarm, dismember, and kill—and now, for the first time ever, she is
free.

Her paranoid father is dead, his extreme dominance and rules a
thing of the past, but his influence remains as strong as ever. When his final
will reveals a future more terrible than her captive past, Petty knows she must
escape—by whatever means necessary.

But when Petty learns the truth behind her father’s madness—and
her own family—the reality is worse than anything she could have imagined. On
the road and in over her head, Petty’s fight for her life has just begun.

Fans of female-powered thrillers will love debut author LS Hawker
and her suspenseful tale of a young woman on the run for her future…and from
the nightmares of her past.

COME CELEBRATE WITH LS HAWKER AT HER RELEASE PARTY https://www.facebook.com/events/856594864448466/

Purchase links $1.99

AMAZON * B&N * iBooks *

Harper Collins * Google Play * KOBO

AUTHOR BIO:

LS HAWKER grew up in suburban Denver, indulging her worrisome obsession with true-crime books, and writing stories about anthropomorphic fruit and juvenile delinquents. She wrote her first novel at 14.
Armed with a B.S. in journalism from the University of Kansas, she had a radio show called “People Are So Stupid,” edited a trade magazine and worked as a traveling Kmart portrait photographer, but never lost her passion for fiction writing.

She’s got a hilarious, supportive husband, two brilliant daughters and a massive music collection. She lives in Colorado but considers Kansas her spiritual homeland. Visit her website at LSHawker.com.

EXCERPT:

Since he’d died on his stomach, the EMTs had turned Dad onto his back. He was in full rigor mortis, so his upper lip was mashed into his gums and curled into a sneer, exposing his khaki-colored teeth. His hands were spread in front of his face, palms out. Dad’s eyes stared up and to the left and his entire face was grape-pop purple.

What struck me when I first saw him—after I inhaled my gum—was that he appeared to be warding off a demon. I should have waited until the mortician was done with him, because I knew I’d never get that image out of my mind.

I walked out of Dad’s room on unsteady feet, determined not to cry in front of these strangers. The deputy and the sheriff stood outside my bedroom, examining the door to it. Both of them looked confused.

“Petty,” Sheriff Bloch said.

I stopped in the hall, feeling even more violated with them so close to my personal items and underwear.

“Yes?”

“Is this your bedroom?”

I nodded.

Sheriff and deputy made eye contact. The coroner paused at the top of the stairs to listen in. This was what my dad had always talked about—the judgment of busybody outsiders, their belief that somehow they needed to have a say in the lives of people they’d never even met and knew nothing about.

The three men seemed to expect me to say something, but I was tired of talking. Since I’d never done much of it, I’d had no idea how exhausting it was.

The deputy said, “Why are there six deadbolts on the outside of your door?”

It was none of his business, but I had nothing to be ashamed of.

“So Dad could lock me in, of course.”