AUTHOR NOTE: Many
scenes in Flaming Crimes (Disaster Crimes #4) came from real life.
For this short blog tour, I am sharing my memories as a ten-part continuous
story, so hop along for the entire experience.
Series: Disaster Crimes #4
Page Count: 304
Digital Price: 4.99
Print Price: 16.99
Rating: Spicy (PG13)
BUY LINKS:
FLAMING
GUEST POST PART ONE:
My best friend and I waited for her
dad to pick us up from school. I could smell a hint of smoke in the air, but I
couldn’t see anything. It wasn’t until I was seated in the backseat of my best
friend’s dad’s car and we turned away from the school, toward home, when a
smoke plume became visible. It was stretching above the trees, reaching higher
into the sky. The color went from light to dark gray. While staring at it, my
mouth went dry, my palms became slick with sweat, and it felt as though my
heart sank down to my gallbladder. For a reason I could not explain, that smoke
plume terrified me.
We all looked at it. And then my best
friend’s dad said something to me I’ll never forget, “It looks like it’s right
next to your house.”
The seed of panic that had cropped up
at the sight of that smoke grew to full-blown panic. My heart raced. The closer
we got, the larger the smoke plume became.
When we turned into my neighborhood, that
smokestack was right in front of us, expanding and growing darker.
My best friend’s dad stopped the car
at the end of my road to talk to someone, and my panic exploded into a trillion
pieces. Looking down the street, I saw fire feasting on the trees next to my
house.
It. Was. Right. There.
TO BE CONTINUED….
Excerpt from Flaming Crimes:
Beth’s heart clenched at the sight of the
smoke stacks, as if a fist had driven through her chest and was squeezing the
meaty human drum, paralyzing it. She gripped the door handle. The faster
Donovan drove and the closer they got to home, to those tiers of billowing,
dark smoke, the more anxious she became. Donovan’s words replayed in her head.
It looks like it’s right next to our house.
Her heart woke from its coma and punched her
ribcage like a boxer attacking a speed bag. Perspiration dampened her underarms
and slicked her palms. Please, God, no. I can’t lose my home again.
The story will continue on these
blogs:
About
the Author: Chrys Fey is the
author of the Disaster Crimes Series,
a unique concept blending romance, crimes, and disasters. She’s partnered with
the Insecure Writer’s Support Group and runs their Goodreads book club. She’s
also an editor for Dancing Lemur Press.
Author Links:
Thank you for reading this post! Don’t forget to hop along to the
other posts on their designated days for the full fiery story.
SHARE: Your fire story with me.
