About the book:
Title: The Black Song Inside
Author: Carlyle Clark
Publisher: Thomas
& Mercer
Pages: 435
Language: English
Genre: Mystery/Thriller
Format: Paperback, Kindle, Audiobook
Atticus’s manipulative ex-girlfriend bursts back into their lives wielding a secret about Rosemary’s family that she exploits to force the couple into investigating the execution-style slaying of her lover. The case thrusts Atticus and Rosemary headlong into the world of human trafficking and drug smuggling, while rendering them pawns in Tijuana Cartel captain Armando Villanueva’s bloody bid to take over the cartel.
The Black Song Inside is a vivid crime thriller rife with murder and madness, melded with gallows humor and the heroism of two flawed and compelling protagonists who, if they can save themselves, may learn the nature of redemption and the ability to forgive.
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I'm pleased to welcome Rosemary from The Black Song Inside to the blog today!
My brother Johnny doesn’t need me anymore. Gang life offers easy
answers, the thrill of deadly consequences kept at bay, doing unto
others before they do unto him, low deals, high stakes, and a pack of
vicious brothers at his back. All of them hate the man I love, Atticus
Wynn, my fiance, my partner, my life.
Johnny’s eyes were always angry, but they were sad and sweet too. Now they gleam like a hungry wolf’s. Once I protected him, but he’s closed ranks and I’m outside. I remember when he was little. He put his arms around me and buried his grimy, tear-stained his face in my neck. Those arms are now thick with muscles that writhe beneath tattooed sleeves. The hands I used to hold have grown callused by endless pull-ups, cleans, and dead lifts.
Once he gripped a stuffed blue bunny, a memento from the time before he was orphaned. He kept on clutching the tattered thing when he was swept to America by my well-meaning parents. They adopted him, but they never made him feel he belonged. I was the one with potential. I drew their praise. He drew their disappointment. Now those hands that once held a bunny can become, in a moment, brutal fists; now they wield knives, guns.
Johnny used to collect baseball cards and model cars. He’d show me when I made time for him, rarely, nowhere near often enough. Now he collects only joyless things - promotions offered from higher ups, all of them murdering, no-conscience thugs, stacks of bills, and a seemingly limitless supply of needles and dope. Johnny’s teeth are as white and sharp as a predator’s, but I remember when he lost one and was too proud to tell Mama and Papa. I slipped a quarter under his pillow and spied on him until he woke to find it. I giggled behind my hand. He lit the room with a gap-toothed grin.
What do I feel when I look at him now?
Helpless.
How can I love him so much when he hates my man to the point of murder?
By remembering.
How can I save him?
I can’t.
Johnny’s eyes were always angry, but they were sad and sweet too. Now they gleam like a hungry wolf’s. Once I protected him, but he’s closed ranks and I’m outside. I remember when he was little. He put his arms around me and buried his grimy, tear-stained his face in my neck. Those arms are now thick with muscles that writhe beneath tattooed sleeves. The hands I used to hold have grown callused by endless pull-ups, cleans, and dead lifts.
Once he gripped a stuffed blue bunny, a memento from the time before he was orphaned. He kept on clutching the tattered thing when he was swept to America by my well-meaning parents. They adopted him, but they never made him feel he belonged. I was the one with potential. I drew their praise. He drew their disappointment. Now those hands that once held a bunny can become, in a moment, brutal fists; now they wield knives, guns.
Johnny used to collect baseball cards and model cars. He’d show me when I made time for him, rarely, nowhere near often enough. Now he collects only joyless things - promotions offered from higher ups, all of them murdering, no-conscience thugs, stacks of bills, and a seemingly limitless supply of needles and dope. Johnny’s teeth are as white and sharp as a predator’s, but I remember when he lost one and was too proud to tell Mama and Papa. I slipped a quarter under his pillow and spied on him until he woke to find it. I giggled behind my hand. He lit the room with a gap-toothed grin.
What do I feel when I look at him now?
Helpless.
How can I love him so much when he hates my man to the point of murder?
By remembering.
How can I save him?
I can’t.
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About the author:
He is a married man with two cats and a dog. He is also a martial arts enthusiast and a CrossFit endurer who enjoys fishing, sports, movies, TV series with continuing storylines, and of course, reading. Most inconsequentially, he holds the unrecognized distinction of being one of the few people in the world who have been paid to watch concrete dry in the dark. Tragically, that is a true statement.
His latest book is the mystery thriller, The Black Song Inside.
Visit his website at http://carlyleclark.wordpress.com/
Find him on the web:
Great book and giveaway!
ReplyDeleteThank you so much for this amazing giveaway!
ReplyDeleteThanks for the giveaway! I hadn't heard of this book before. It looks awesome. :)
ReplyDeleteThank you for the giveaway. This book sounds amazing and I cannot wait to start reading it!
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