Wednesday, May 8, 2019

A Curse of the Lucky by Nathan Wrann - Book Blast and Giveaway


This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Nathan Wrann will be awarding a $10 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.



Two things that Jack Smith has always had: bad legs and bad luck. With a violent attack at the Tarrytown Independence Day Carnival, that bad luck has caught up to him with deadly consequences. Going on the run with Jaelle–the mysterious girl of his dreams–he descends into a world of curses, blessings, and fortunetelling Gypsies. The deeper he gets, the more he realizes she might just be the one to save his life... or end it.

The Mr. Lucky Trilogy begins with A Curse of the Lucky.








Read an Excerpt

Jaelle’s brow furrowed, her eyes darkened, lost in the shadow cast by the bulb overhead. Her jaw clenched and her mouth closed tight. I could see her swallow. The fun game of ‘I Know Something You Don’t Know’ came to an abrupt end. She took a few steps back, toward an inky corner of the tent. I could hardly see her as she turned to face me.

“Bad.”

“What? I’m bad?”

“It’s bad.”

A boisterous laugh erupted, cutting through the monotony of the workers outside the tent.

Jaelle burst from the shadows and grabbed my arm. “My uncle! You must go.” She yanked me to my feet. I stumbled to the door flap as I attempted to get a grip on my crutches.

The laugh erupted again and turned into a drunken howl of a line from a song. It came from right outside the door.

Jaelle shoved me across the tent into the shadowed corner next to the antique armoire. She pushed me behind it and opened one of the doors to hide me. Yanking a long dress out of the armoire, she draped it over the door so that it hung down, obscuring the lower half of my body. She leapt back to the cot and sat down.

The Big Man in Black surged into the tent, flinging the door flap up and over his shoulder. The flap hooked onto the corner of a stowed “Fortunes $20” sign, leaving the doorway wide open. From my position, hidden behind the armoire, I could see that the Meat-On-A-Stick trailer—that had been next door—was gone. An empty lot left in its place.

A fermented cloud of alcohol followed her uncle in, and filled the tent. The slow patter of heavy raindrops tapped on the canvas roof.

As he crossed the tent, the Big Man in Black slurred something to Jaelle. Even if he had said it in English, I doubt I would have understood.

She responded with a downcast tone in the same language. I assumed it was some form of Gypsy language.

He dropped down on the cot next to her. Jaelle immediately stood. She crossed the tent to the armoire and looked me dead in the eye as she pulled a lock box out of the cabinet. Strange to realize at the time, but the sweet woody vanilla smell was coming from her, not the tent.

She carried the box back to her uncle and held it out for him. He took the metal box in one hand and grabbed her wrist with the other. Pulling her down hard, she landed on the cot beside him. Rain pounded on the canvas overhead.

Jaelle’s uncle dug into his pocket and produced a wad of cash. He flipped open the box, grabbed another stack of money, and combined the two piles. He swayed back and forth softly mumble-singing as he thumbed the edge of each bill.

Jaelle said something and inched away from him. She didn’t get far, as he grabbed her upper arm and glared at her. He glanced back at the hefty stack of cash in his hand, sighed, and started thumbing through it again. I could see his lips moving as he counted each bill.

As he got to the end of the stack Jaelle edged away from him a little more. Her eyes flicked my direction and I could see the muscles in her jaw clench.

After counting the last bill, his attention shot to her and he slurred a spittle-filled rant at her.

“No, Uncle. I didn’t. I promise,” Jaelle responded. Fear replaced the defiant tone of her voice.

He grabbed her by the back of the neck and yanked her right beside him on the cot.

He slammed the lock box down on her lap with the lid open, and ripped a bill from the top of the stack. He dropped the bill in the box and said “One.” Then another bill and counted it off. Then another. Dropping each in the box.

“Uncle, I didn’t—”

The Big Man in Black threw the stack of cash in the lock box and grabbed her by the throat. She reacted instantly, instinctively. Both hands shot up, slapping away his attempted choke.

The violence knocked the lock box and launched it off of her lap. The cash bloomed in the air like an errant firework, and rained down around them.

The Big Man in Black’s face stiffened and distorted with rage. His glazed eyes awakened. His flesh turned maroon. He threw Jaelle to the wood-plank floor and dropped to his knees, straddling her. She struggled but was no match for his strength or size. He raised his hand and brought the back of it down across her cheek.

“Hey! Leave her alone!” I burst from behind the armoire.

He hesitated. His jaw dropped open and his eyes went wide. I had held the element of surprise but could do nothing with it. He was on his feet and charging faster than I could believe. He had already been prepared for a fight, his drunkenness drowned out in adrenaline. I planted my crutches and hurtled toward him. My feet hit the ground. The leg braces held steady, and I pushed off. Pain exploded through my knees and hips, but it didn’t matter. My shoulder slammed into his midsection…

About the Author:

Nathan Wrann was born in Florida and moved around a lot as a child, growing up in New York, New Hampshire, Connecticut, California and finally back to Florida. No matter where he lived you would likely find Marvel Comics or a book in his hand with genres ranging from fantasy (The Black Cauldron), to SE Hinton's teen dramas (The Outsiders), to Stephen King's entire catalogue from Carrie through Tommyknockers. At the age of seventeen he joined the U.S. Army as a Military Policeman, and following that, graduated from Southern Connecticut State University with a degree in video production and theater.

Currently Mr. Wrann is a writer, publisher and (formerly) independent filmmaker living in West Haven, Connecticut with his rescued Chihuahuas Napoleon and Gatsby, pain-in-the-butt cat Konstantine, and wife Kimberly. Nowadays, in between books, you'll find him enjoying horror films, YA Paranormal TV series (Vampire Diaries, Sabrina, etc), and the Marvel and Star Wars Cinematic Universes.





Author’s Note RE: the Mr. Lucky Trilogy & Dark Matter Heart: The Mr. Lucky Trilogy is a Dark Matter Heart World Expander. The events in this series take place in the same world, with the same paranormal concepts and rules as Dark Matter Heart, but with all new characters and adventures. Opportunity abounds for crossover stories bringing all the characters together.

It is not necessary to read Dark Matter Heart to enjoy the Mr. Lucky Trilogy, but I think you’ll like it.

Get Book One: Dark Matter Heart here: http://amzn.to/DMHKindle
Get Book Two: From Out of Chaos FREE here: https://mailchi.mp/f5ce21a5921c/freedmh2

Thank you Dear Reader, we have much fun ahead of us.

-Nathan Wrann

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