Title:
Curious
(3
novels in 1) by
D L Richardson
ISBN:
9781311944474
Book
Length:
536 pages
Publisher:
self published
Three full length novels in one supernatural collection.
In THE BIRD WITH THE BROKEN WING, a guardian angel finds herself trapped in Purgatory with a young soldier she was assigned to watch over. She knows the terrible secret that's keeping him trapped in limbo, but can't understand why she's stuck with him.
In FEEDBACK, three teenagers receive the organs of deceased CIA agent and inadvertently take on the task of completing the mission the spy died midway through, that of deactivating bacteria bombs threatening millions of lives.
In LITTLE RED GEM, bad advice from a ghost, magic courtesy of an unsuspecting half-sister, and a televised music talent show see this teen make more of a mess in death than she ever made in life.
That's over 500 pages of action, drama, adventure, teen issues, and romance in one unputdownable book.
Feedback
Wanting to run
and actually running were two different things. For many reasons. My
legs were like concrete pylons, numb from sitting on the plastic
chair for so long. The acrid perfume wafted toward me again like an
invisible web, trapping me to the seat. Miss Redkins blocked my exit,
and the incessant beep-beep-beep of
her phone from texting the encyclopedia acted like a sensor alarm.
I’d never liked the sense of being trapped.
I nudged
Melanie, and she begrudgingly moved over half an inch. No amount of
fresh air would appease me. I should be the one up on stage, not
Katrina.
“Sit where you
can watch me,” Katrina had demanded during breakfast this morning.
“She’s
practiced real hard,” Mom had added, kissing Katrina on the cheek.
“She’s always wanted to be a dancer like her big sister.”
The spotlight
dimmed. I wanted to cheer and applaud Katrina’s tiny feet in first
position, but my heart had sunk to somewhere stinkier than the bottom
of the trash can.
I slid down into
the chair. If I had to be stuck here, at least I’d attempt to
shrink into myself. Hiding behind my fringe would have been a good
option, except that clips held my hair on top of my head. I couldn’t
lift up the collar of my school blazer. It hung in my locker. I might
have used the collar of my white shirt to shield my face from the
crowd, but that look was so last year. My final hope lay in covering
my face with my hands, but I doubted I’d be able to stop the flow
of tears if I did.
Why couldn’t
Katrina have been born with a bad kidney? She’d be in the audience
and I’d be the one up there on the stage.
But Katrina
didn’t have a defective kidney. She had a tutu and a dance coach.
Little Red Gem
…“I’d
know if I was dead.”
While
I watched my two best friends walk with arms around each other for
emotional support, I wrestled with accepting Audrey’s version of
the story. To do so meant I was dead. And dead meant I would never
again speak with Leo. And there were so many words left unsaid, so
much business left unfinished.
The
final nail in my coffin came when a customer walked out and Audrey
pushed me directly in front of the customer’s path. Instead of
bumping into him, I fell through him, landing on my hands and knees.
My skin tingled with pins and needles from where the body had passed
through me. A loud noise filled my ears, similar to water flowing
from a dam. For a split second my vision blurred. Then I watched in
absolute horror as my hands and legs split into millions of tiny
fragments.
Audrey
might have been capable of delving into her mother’s magic bag to
produce this neat trick, but I wasn’t.
I
crawled into the gutter because it seemed the most suitable place for
a reluctant spirit to bawl her eyes out. Audrey was kind enough to
sit beside me with her hand resting on my shoulder; although we were
both apparitions the contact still registered. I forgot about being
angry with her and welcomed her company.
“Okay,
I’ll admit this has been a rather extraordinary morning so you may
be right.” I sniffed back the tears and turned to face her. “How
did I die?”
“Your
car slid down an embankment. You weren’t wearing a seat belt. Leo
dragged you out of the car but it was too late.”
I
jumped up. “Leo!”
The Bird with the
Broken Wing
“I’m tired
of painting myself. But it’s all I do. Look.” The girl rummaged
through the canvases on the floor. She withdrew one that had an
indigo blue background and a single pale, bloodshot eye staring from
the center. Pointing to the middle of the room where a crystal bowl
containing a colorful array of fruit sat on a table, she continued.
“This is supposed to be that.”
She tore off and
went in search of another painting, which she found, and with a sort
of timid pride, she shoved the canvas at Rachael. Similar to the
first canvas, except with a dark red background, and equally
appalling. The girl cast that canvas aside and produced another
painting, and another and another. Rachael was quick to notice the
pattern, and she began to back away. All the paintings were of the
same image—a single, bloodshot eye that looked as if it belonged to
someone who was being buried alive.
“No matter
what I paint…clouds, fruit, sunsets…every picture turns out the
same. They are all pictures of me passing judgment on myself.”
When Rachael
moved, she felt the eyes in the pictures following her. “You have
captured it rather well. Maybe you should come to my Group sessions.”
Even as the
words left her mouth, she regretted them. The girl’s pale eyes lit
up, yet before Rachael could take back what she’d said, a guy
appeared—her twin maybe, for he was just as deathly pale. When he
scowled, icy arrows laced with contempt shot outwards and hit Rachael
square in the face. He dragged the girl back to her easel, and
Rachael was secretly glad to have her forcibly removed.
“I was once
like you,” the girl called out as Rachael hurried toward the door.
“You’ll be in here soon. There is no escaping your fate. You
belong here with us.”
Music first
captured the creative interest of D L Richardson. She got her first
acoustic guitar at age ten, and in high school she sang with the
school band. When she left school she helped form her own rock band
where she sang lead vocals, played bass guitar, and wrote all the
lyrics.
At age 26 she
realized she wanted to write novels for the rest of her life, or die
trying, so she sold her equipment, quit pursuing a music career and
began writing instead. She now have six books published and is
working on an urban fantasy series a second short story collection.
She lives in
Australia on the NSW South Coast with her husband and dog. When she’s
not writing or reading she can be found practicing her piano, playing
the guitar or walking the dog.
She is currently
writing a serialised four book novel and working on a second volume
of short stories.
Website:
www.dlrichardson.com
Twitter:
http://twitter.com/#!/DLRichardson1
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thank you so much for hosting. Hope you have a lovely Christmas and New Year. DL xox
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