Welcome Annette to The Mystique and welcome Drowning Rapunzel!!!
Drowning
Rapunzel
Annette Gisby
Annette Gisby
Genre:
Romantic Suspense
Publisher:
Pink Petal Books
Word Count:
66,000
Cover
Artist: Valerie Tibbs
Book
Description:
Recently
released from a mental institution, Beth Gregory accepts a job as a live-in
secretary/PA to the reclusive painter Josh Warrington. Beth's long red hair
fascinates him from the first moment he sees her and Josh wants her to be his
Rapunzel for a series of fairy tale paintings he's working on.
Beth has two
major fears: that she will be sent back to the mental hospital and the visions
which landed her there in the first place will return. They do; this time
giving her glimpses of murders before they happen. Beth becomes the main
suspect in the murder investigation and then she has the most disturbing vision
of all: she will become the next victim...
Short
Excerpt:
He wished
he'd thought of the water sooner. It was easier that way, not so much mess. It
was peaceful too, watching her hair fan out behind her like a veil of gold. She
didn't struggle after his hands were around her neck, and he was grateful. It
showed him that she accepted her fate dutifully, like she should. She should
never have made him wait so long.
Now he was
waiting again, but he didn't mind. He was used to waiting now. Waiting could
almost have been his middle name. Actually, it was Alphonse, but anyone who
knew that was already dead, and so it didn't matter anymore.
It was a
while since he had hunted like this, anticipated the inevitable. Usually he
preferred the quick kill, where they didn't know he was coming until they
started screaming. He liked to hear them scream. Made it all seem that bit much
more worthwhile.
But there
was something different about this one; something that made him want to wait,
to delay the final moment, to make it last. He wanted to frighten her long
before the end, when she would beg him to kill her. He couldn't quite tell what
it was; there was just an air of something other about her. She wasn't like the
other girls, and he grinned broadly. Of course she wasn't. She was special. But
then, they were all special. They were his.
Maybe it was
the hair which attracted him. It was long, tumbling in red-gold waves down her
back, almost to her waist. It reminded him of golden syrup. He loved golden syrup,
loved to eat it straight out of the tin with his fingers. No mother to nag him
about that. Not anymore. Fingers were fine, but sometimes he preferred bread,
white bread, none of that wholemeal nonsense. He could almost taste it on his
tongue, could almost taste her and he had to stifle a gasp at the image. No
point in attracting undue attention to himself.
He glanced
at the folder on the passenger seat, her name stark black against the
buff-coloured folder. It had almost been too easy to get hold of her file, but
no one knew what he wanted it for and he wasn't about to tell them, either. He
lifted it up and traced her name with a gloved finger, feeling almost as if he
was caressing her already. This one would be so easy to break; she'd already
been in a mental hospital once. He had to be careful; if she was sent back he
couldn't get to her, not there with their high walls and staff on alert all the
time. No, he just wanted to scare her for a while, but not inflict madness on
her once more. He gasped as he saw her walking towards his parked car, her head
down, her loose hair being buffeted by the spring wind.
Maybe it
wasn't the hair; maybe it was the grey-green eyes which seemed to see right
down to his soul. Would she recoil in
terror at what she saw there, or would she welcome it like the others before
her? They had all welcomed him in the end. Or maybe it was the way she dressed,
so unlike her contemporaries in their short skirts and skimpy tops. Any time
he'd seen her, she was always covered up in long dresses and baggy sweaters, as
if she didn't want to show off any of her womanly curves. She had curves, the
clothes could not disguise them, and he had long imagined his hands roving over
her delicate skin.
He also knew
that underneath all those layers, there was a wanton harlot waiting for him to
let her out, just like all the others. How they loved to tease and torment him.
This time he would be the tormentor.
But not yet.
He would wait. He was getting good at waiting.
About the
Author:
Annette Gisby
grew up in a small town in Northern Ireland, moving to London when she was
seventeen. She writes in multiple genres and styles, anything from romance to
thriller or erotica to horror, even both at the same time. When not writing,
she enjoys reading, cinema, theatre and travelling the world despite getting
travel sick on most forms of transport., even a bicycle. Sometimes you might
find her playing Dragon Quest or The Sims computer games and watching Japanese
Anime. She lives in Hampshire with her husband, a collection of porcelain
dolls, cuddly toys and enough books to fill a library. It's diminishing
gradually since the advent of ebooks, but still has a long way to go.
Posts
1 comment:
Thanks for hosting me and my book :)
Annette
Post a Comment