Want to give you guy's a treat today. An upcoming book that I think all of you will love to read. It releases next month and if it is anything like the first book, Absences of Light, you will fall in love with it. Adrienne Wilder is a great writer that can suck your mind right into the character's life. Every book I have read has taken my mind onto an imagination trip that it never wanted to come back from.
Here's the all the info you need to know about By The Light of Dawn and an excerpt from the book. Below you will find info about Adrienne
By
The Light of Dawn
by
Adrienne Wilder
October
15, 2020
This
is a follow up to the novel In the Absence of Light.
A
handmade sailboat helped bring Morgan back to Grant but he never imagined they
would put it in the water.
Then
Morgan sees something in the light that sets Grant on a mission to get them to
the middle of the ocean. An unknown destination they have to be at when the sun
rises.
It’s
important enough that Morgan is willing to leave Durstrand. Important enough
that he’ll face the challenges of his autism.
So
important, it could even be a matter of life and death.
By
The Light of Dawn happens at the same time The Darkest Hour (Jeff’s story)
takes place and contains mild spoilers as well as teasers. The plot points
revealed are the same ones that were revealed at the end of In the Absence of
Light.
Amazon:
https://amzn.to/3iW16tR
Goodreads:
https://www.goodreads.com/author_blog_posts/20375616-by-the-light-of-dawn
First
book: In the Absence of Light https://amzn.to/33Qryim
EXCERPT
Durstrand:
a little town in the middle of nowhere-deep-south, with a place called Toolies.
Restaurant by day, bar by night, a single mechanic shop, hardware store, and a
drive-in theatre set in the middle of a cow pasture, where they held a town
cookout once a year to eat said cows.
And
I hated to admit it but apparently letting the cows watch movies did make them
taste better.
Durstrand
was where I escaped to, where I never planned to stay until I fell in love with
one of the most unique people in the world.
Morgan
Kade.
The
bacon grease popped and kissed the side of my hand. “Damnit.” You’d think I’d
learn. Bacon always fought back, particularly early in the morning, when you
were still too sleep fogged to defend yourself.
“Turn
down the stove and that won’t happen.”
Morgan
whisked through the kitchen and out the back door.
Our
yellow lab right on his heels. His thick tail knocking the chairs aside,
whacking the walls, then the doorway.
Dog,
who after almost six months of living with us, still didn’t have a real name.
No matter what I suggested, it didn’t fit.
Dog
fit because he was a dog and until he was something else, he’d continue to be
Dog.
I
glared in Morgan’s direction. And just for spite, I didn’t turn down the heat.
I
flipped the bacon, cracked the eggs, they sizzled in a second skillet on a back
burner.
The
bacon popped, and the goddamned droplet hit my right nipple. “Fuck.”
The
back door opened, Morgan zipped through the kitchen. “Told you to turn it down,
or you could wear a long—” Gone again. The thump, thump of a perpetual happy
lab puppy right behind him. Although Dog wasn’t very puppy in appearance. In
the past several months he’d gone from a fat-bellied-rolly-polly into a wall of
muscle and mass, with jowls that could soak up a gallon of water and redeposit
it onto your lap.
Or
face.
A
high-pitched beep came from somewhere outside. I’d heard the sound a million
times during my years in Chicago working and living in a shipping yard. My life
before Durstrand. My life before Morgan Kade. A time when my days were filled
with dodging the FBI and designing ways to smuggle high-dollar goods, stolen
art, cars, jewelry, across the ocean or just to squirrel them away for some
rich person who didn’t want to pay the taxman.
I
don’t know why they bothered. It wasn’t like I was cheap.
Honestly,
I think cheating Uncle Sam gave them some sort of perverse pleasure. Not that I
blame them.
The
back-up warning grew louder. I pushed aside the curtain over the sink. A
flatbed truck made its way in reverse up the long driveway. I know damn well
they weren’t coming for the pickup truck. It was not only paid for, it wasn’t
worth a car payment.
Oh,
I could have afforded a new car without payments even, but there were some
things more important than money that brought me happiness no luxury ever
could.
Said
happiness raced past again, out the back door.
This
time Dog stopped and cocked his head at me.
"What?”
Dog
wagged his tail.
The
truck engine rumbled, and the dog vanished, followed by the screen door
slapping the frame.
I
parted the curtain again. I was wrong. It wasn’t the standard flatbed truck. A
series of ridges created a cradle to keep its load from tilting. A crane rigged
with steel cable and pullies lay folded at the edge. I’d seen larger versions
transporting yachts at various docks all over the world.
While
this truck had all the bells and whistles used for million-dollar vessels, it
wouldn’t have been able to haul anything more than thirty-feet.
The
sailboat Morgan built was exactly twenty-five and a half.
Author Info
Adrienne
Wilder (trans-male) is an author of gay contemporary and speculative fiction
and artist of all things monster. Several of his books have been best sellers
both nationally and internationally.
He
writes original stories with powerful characters and emotion as well as a
fast-paced plot.
While
his books have a romantic element, they are not traditional romance. And the
stories he paints are done outside the lines of traditional genres.
If
you're looking for something different, exciting, and unique, his books are for
you.
Check
out Adrienne’s website for updates and how to contact him.
Thank you for the spotlight :)
ReplyDeleteCan't wait to read the book.
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