Today it’s my pleasure to welcome LM Pruitt, author
of Torment, The Damned Series, Book Four.
Release Date August 8, 2017
Genre: PNR
Book Description
Enemies
are so stimulating.--Katherine Hepburn
If
you can look past the part where they're trying to kill you.
The
Damned want my head on a platter. The Winged have similar plans.
As
for Morning Star and the Power... well, only They know.
One
false step... and everything is lost.
CONTAINS
SCENES OF GRAPHIC LANGUAGE AND SEXUAL ACTIVITY. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.
Let’s hear from LM Pruitt…
A Writer’s Mind
We’ve all heard the saying—usually uttered with a bit of despair—that
a writer’s mind is like having a dozen or so tabs open at the same time. It is,
unfortunately, more than a little true although I think it’s safe to say it’s
also a simplistic explanation of what’s happening inside.
For instance, even as I’m writing this, I’m thinking about the list of
errands I have to do today, one of which includes the grocery store. The
grocery store requires a list (because I know me), so we’re up to two tabs.
Seems reasonable, right?
I’m also thinking about the things I have to do as far as household
cleaning, which includes laundry, cleaning out the fridge, and cooking dinner.
So now we’re up to three tabs.
Wait—I need to take a shower and dry my hair. Four tabs.
I also need to work on a baby gift for a co-worker and a Christmas
gift for a friend, both of which require a shopping trip. Five tabs.
I need to revamp a cover and some links and set up promotional days on
Amazon. Six tabs.
I’m planning a major release in November, something I’ve never done,
which requires extensive file formatting, ISBNs, promotion, the whole nine
yards. That’s tabs seven, eight, and nine right there.
I’m also watching television because if I don’t have some sort of background
noise, I’ll get distracted. So there’s tab 10, complete with music.
I’m also trying to remember if you refer to a group of ducks as a
flock or if that’s for other birds. Tab 11.
And then I’m writing this. Tab 12.
Like I said, we’ve all heard the saying about a writer’s mind. I think
I’ve shown it’s fairly true.
Wait—thirteen tabs open: I’m thinking about lunch.
Excerpt
“You’ll
catch cold if you stay out here much longer.”
I
didn’t turn around, continuing to study the skyline. “I’m fine.”
“It’s
three in the morning. You should be asleep.” He didn’t sound angry about the
fact I wasn’t or the fact I was standing outside in late September in sleep
pants and a thin cotton tank. If anything, his scolding sounded as if it was
for form and nothing else. “It’s been a long day for all of us.”
“Yes.”
Now I did turn around, studying Barry with the same intensity I’d shown the
various buildings of Prague. “Why are you mad at me?”
“I’m
not mad.” He pulled a cigar from the pocket of his sleep pants but didn’t light
it, staring at the tip for a moment before sliding it back in his pocket. “I’m
tired, Julie. As I said, it’s been a long day. The next few days—weeks,
rather—promise to be equally long. We all need to sleep, to keep our strength
up for what lies ahead.”
“You
haven’t touched me since we got back.” Since he stood in front of my sister and
ripped her heart out and then walked away without a backward glance. “You’ve
barely said anything all night long.”
“As
I said, I’m tired.” He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose,
letting out a long sigh. “There’s been quite a bit of upheaval in the last
thirty-six hours or so. Quite a bit. Forgive me if I’m not my usual charming
self. You have more than enough people here to pay you attention if you’re
feeling uncared for.”
“That’s
not what I meant.” I turned back to the city view, widening my eyes and
blinking rapidly in an effort to keep the tears at bay. I didn’t have a problem
with using tears as a weapon when they were called for but I wouldn’t use them
with him, ever. “You’re right. It’s late. Go to sleep. I’m fine.”
“We
both know I’m not going to sleep until you do.” I heard the sound of metal
scraping over concrete and glanced over my shoulder to find he’d pulled one of
the patio chairs free of the table. Sitting down and stretching out his legs,
he said, “As long as you’re here, I’m here.”
“Barry—.”
“Arguing
will only frustrate us both, Julie Elizabeth, and we’ve had enough frustration
for the day.” He slid further down in the seat, almost slouching, and crossed
his arms. “As long as you’re here, I’m here.”
“But
do you want to be here?” The question tumbled out before I even realized it was
in my mind and I bit my tongue, already regretting it. “Never mind. You don’t
have to answer that.”
“Come
here.” When I didn’t move, he uncrossed his arms and held out one hand.
“Please.”
Crossing
the balcony, I took his hand, curling up in his lap and resting my head on his
shoulder. We sat in silence for a few minutes before he cleared his throat. “I
don’t know any other way to say it. I can simply say as long as you’re here,
I’m here. When you want to leave, we’ll leave.”
“And
where would we go?” Joanne’s face in the instant after Barry verbally sucker
punched her, Asmodeus’s face the second after I shot him, flashed through my
mind and I hunched my shoulders as if the memory carried a physical blow.
“There’s no place left. We burned all those bridges today.”
“The
thing about bridges is they can always be rebuilt and when they are, they’re
stronger than before they burned.” He brushed my hair away from my face,
stroking one hand down my back and pulling me tighter against him. “But since
you don’t want to leave, the discussion is moot.”
“We’re
doing the right thing.”
“The
right thing done the wrong way is no longer the right thing.”
“If
there was a way to do this differently, we would have taken it.” We’d tried to
take it. We’d tried to meet the others halfway. Nobody—Lilith, Asmodeus, the
Power, Morning Star—wanted to bend.
So
we would have to break them.
“After
the raids begin today, there is no turning back. You and your supporters will
be branded traitors. There will be bounties on your heads.” He pressed his lips
to my hair, breathing deep. “On all our heads. You’ve never lived through a
war.”
It
wasn’t a question but I answered anyway. “No, I haven’t.”
“I’ve
been through more than my fair share, even considering my age. When it’s
impossible to die from manmade weapons, you tend to fight in wars simply to
alleviate the boredom.” He turned, pressing his face in to my hair. “And
they’re nothing compared to supernatural wars. So far you’ve only seen the
pretty side of Hell. There are things which will be unleashed which should
never exist out of nightmares.”
“On
us or by us?”
“Both.”
His hand shook as he stroked my back and I wasn’t sure if he was trying to
comfort me or himself. “Some things can’t be unseen or unfelt. You’ll carry it
with you until the day you die.”
“Are
you trying to scare me?”
“I’m
trying to warn you. Up until now, everything about this war has been
theoretical. Until today, no true shots were fired.” He drew back, his face
unnaturally somber, even for him. “I know you did what you had to do and I
don’t fault you for that decision.”
“But
I officially started the war.” I nodded. “I know. I’ll live with it.”
“Things
will get worse.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead. “They always do.”
“And
then they get better.” I had to believe that. If I didn’t, then there was a
good chance I was wrecking and ruining lives for no reason at all. I pressed my
lips to his, lightly, for comfort more than anything else. “Things will be
better. We’re going to make them better.”
We
didn’t have any other choice.
About the Author
L.M.
Pruitt has been reading and writing for as long as she can remember. A native
of Florida with a love of New Orleans, she has the uncanny ability to find
humor in most things and would probably kill a plastic plant. She knows this
because she's killed bamboo. Twice. She
is the author of the Winged series, the Plaisir Coupable series, Jude Magdalyn
series, the Moon Rising series, and Taken: A Frankie Post Novel.
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