Buon weekend a tutti voi ツ
Proprio ieri pomeriggio Teresa Mummert, di cui io ho già letto Pretty Little Things e di cui ho acquistato l'intrigante Rellik, ha svelato la cover di uno dei romanzi su cui ha lavorato e che uscirà l'anno prossimo! La trama e la data d'uscita ancora non le sappiamo... ma vogliamo un attimino soffermarci sulla frase presente nella copertina?! Traggo piacere dal tuo dolore. OMFG, non dico altro *Q*
Proprio ieri pomeriggio Teresa Mummert, di cui io ho già letto Pretty Little Things e di cui ho acquistato l'intrigante Rellik, ha svelato la cover di uno dei romanzi su cui ha lavorato e che uscirà l'anno prossimo! La trama e la data d'uscita ancora non le sappiamo... ma vogliamo un attimino soffermarci sulla frase presente nella copertina?! Traggo piacere dal tuo dolore. OMFG, non dico altro *Q*
Titolo: Cruel
Autore: Teresa Mummert
Genere: Contemporary Romance
Data di uscita: Prossimamente 2015
──────✤ P r o l o g u e ✤──────
“Mr. Thomas, we just need you to recount what happened that night.” The man in his cheap grey suit and ten dollar reading glasses leaned back against the edge of the desk and crossed his arms over his chest. I’m sure he thought the move was intimidating having me sit in front of him like a child about to be scolded. Honestly, it only made me feel sorry for him.
I cocked my head to the side but didn’t respond and he looked flustered for a moment as if he’d expected more of a reaction.
“She’s dead.” I glanced to my left, eyeing the woman in the equally cheap suit with her blonde hair pulled back in a bun. Her gaze met mine and she seemed momentarily taken aback by my words.
“You don’t seem bothered by that,” the woman spoke up, her voice wavering. She was new to this or not cut out for this line of work. Or maybe she was more affected by the death of a stranger than I was to someone I knew.
“Should I be?” I relaxed back into my seat, sinking lower in the metal folding chair to try to ease my discomfort.
“You were sleeping with her, weren’t you?” She asked, her eyebrows pulled together as if I’d personally offended her.
“We didn’t do much sleeping to be honest and you don’t need to care about someone to fuck them.”
“She was somebody’s daughter!” The woman snapped and took a step toward me but her partner held out his hand to stop her from getting closer. I suppose the game of good cop/bad cop had begun.
“I was the only one she was calling daddy when we were together,” I smirked as good cop lurched toward me, his hands circling my throat.
──────✤ A b o u t t h e A u t h o r ✤──────
Teresa Mummert is an army wife and mother whose passion in life is writing. She is the author of the New York Times and USA Today bestselling novels White Trash Beautiful and Suicide Note. Born in Pennsylvania, she lived a small town life before following her husband's military career to Louisiana and Georgia. Check out her website for samples and updates!
──────✤ P r o l o g u e ✤──────
**Unedited and subject to change**
“Mr. Thomas, we just need you to recount what happened that night.” The man in his cheap grey suit and ten dollar reading glasses leaned back against the edge of the desk and crossed his arms over his chest. I’m sure he thought the move was intimidating having me sit in front of him like a child about to be scolded. Honestly, it only made me feel sorry for him.
I cocked my head to the side but didn’t respond and he looked flustered for a moment as if he’d expected more of a reaction.
“She’s dead.” I glanced to my left, eyeing the woman in the equally cheap suit with her blonde hair pulled back in a bun. Her gaze met mine and she seemed momentarily taken aback by my words.
“You don’t seem bothered by that,” the woman spoke up, her voice wavering. She was new to this or not cut out for this line of work. Or maybe she was more affected by the death of a stranger than I was to someone I knew.
“Should I be?” I relaxed back into my seat, sinking lower in the metal folding chair to try to ease my discomfort.
“You were sleeping with her, weren’t you?” She asked, her eyebrows pulled together as if I’d personally offended her.
“We didn’t do much sleeping to be honest and you don’t need to care about someone to fuck them.”
“She was somebody’s daughter!” The woman snapped and took a step toward me but her partner held out his hand to stop her from getting closer. I suppose the game of good cop/bad cop had begun.
“I was the only one she was calling daddy when we were together,” I smirked as good cop lurched toward me, his hands circling my throat.
──────✤ A b o u t t h e A u t h o r ✤──────
Teresa Mummert is an army wife and mother whose passion in life is writing. She is the author of the New York Times and USA Today bestselling novels White Trash Beautiful and Suicide Note. Born in Pennsylvania, she lived a small town life before following her husband's military career to Louisiana and Georgia. Check out her website for samples and updates!
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