I haven’t read this book yet. I met the author, via a FB group, and enjoyed another of his books about a serial killer. Bodies: Staged Fright (Book 1) looks like another hit for this author. Check out this sample.
BODIES is a quirky new murder-mystery series that’s equal parts HBO’s “Big Love” and “NCIS.”
Amanda Romanclef was Hollywood’s current It Girl, a perfect combination of Girl Next Door and spicy vixen. Her last film Blue Heartbreak had been a commercial and critical flop, but had become extremely popular in illegal downloads because of her extended nude scenes. I’d heard her say in interviews that she loved how she felt when she was naked, and that she wasn’t afraid to let her fans (like me!) enjoy it.
Amanda had really been hoping that her new film, Blue Heartbreak 2: More Heartbreak, would push her through the glass ceiling she’d kept hitting, and so she was pleasantly surprised with the response it got at tonight’s premiere in Atlanta (which is where the film was set). The crowd at first laughed at some of her nude scenes — snickering, cat-calling, whispering “Chloe Sevigny” and “Brown Bunny” — but then they got very quiet: They were watching with rapt attention. And, when More Heartbreak ended, they applauded. Loudly. Some even stood on their feet. The applause: Uproarious. The crowd loved her. They couldn’t get enough. She shook hands and kissed cheeks and got her ass grabbed more than once. But she didn’t care. It was so much fun. All these people were there for her, and she loved it. She was glowing.
“This is going to be it,” she whispered to her boyfriend Matt, your typical popped-collar douche; pretty, but vacuous. “My breakthrough!”
“Enough of America’s Darling, it’s time for you to get paid!” Matt said, kissing her cheek.
“I want a big back-end deal next time,” Amanda said, and quickly turned to her agent Eddie B., laughing: “And, no, I’m not doing a sex tape.” That was her standard joke whenever she talked about back-end participation. And Hollywood types didn’t seem to mind; they always loved talking about anal.
Eddie B. hurriedly escorted her and Matt outside towards the gathered press pool. Eddie was short and bald and very Jewish, but with a sinister I-do-what-I-want quality about him that was sort of irresistible.
As soon as the trio exited the theater onto the velvet-rope-lined red carpet, flashbulbs exploded from dozens of cameras. Amanda was wearing a stunning, floor-length white dress with a sexy, snake-like slit slithering all the way up the left side. All the way to the top. Gold clasps lined the slit from thigh to breast, holding the dress together with only a one-inch gap that tapered elegantly at the top.
All the paparazzi called out Amanda’s name, wanting her to turn their way for the glamour shot, a couple duck-face shots, some au naturel laughing shots, and some over-the-shoulder derriere shots. Everyone wanted to know whose dress she was wearing.
“It’s Derek Lam,” Amanda told a gaggle of reporters, before smiling and gliding off.
Amanda hooked one arm through her boyfriend’s arm, the other through her agent’s arm, and stepped, smiling, into her idling limousine with them. She grinned, and tapped the driver’s shoulder. The limo took off. “Did you see that?” Amanda asked her two favorite boys; excited. “They’ve never been all over me like that!”
“You are going places, girl!” Eddie B. said, looking at her lecherously.
Matt put an arm protectively around Amanda’s waist, and pulled her onto his lap. The limo drove through sluggish traffic for several miles before slowing to a stop outside the Grand Plaza Hotel. The driver signaled a left turn, and waited for a half dozen cars to pass before turning cautiously and slowly into the hotel’s entrance plaza.
The head maid at the Grand Plaza Hotel, Maria Vokyaro, whistled softly to herself as she wheeled her cart past Room 2698. She heard a television within, and a cartoon playing, but the do not disturb sign made her keep walking. As usual, her replacement for the night shift — a pretty little thing named Samantha — was late. Maria had recommended Samantha be let go, but so far management had done nothing about it. Maria sighed, and rolled past Room 2694 — do not disturb — but then she wrinkled her brow: She heard what sounded like a really loud television down the hall. She kept going that direction. And, passing Room 2683 — do not disturb — she started nodding with realization: She knew what the noise was coming from the television. It was easy to discern now. It was porn. It was loud, hardcore porn. “That’s gotta be porn, right…?” she mumbled, screwing up her face. She kept pushing her cart, but more slowly now. The noise was coming from Room 2679. And it was starting to sound less and less like porn; more and more like live people. Live people screaming oaths of ecstasy and sexual release.
But…there seemed to be…three voices screaming within. Two men and a woman. All enjoying each other’s company.
Maria blushed at the thought.
Amanda, her boyfriend Matt, and her agent Eddie B. were all indeed having sex together in Room 2679. All the lights were on. Clothes were scattered everywhere. There were two bottles of champagne, drained. Three champagne flutes were scattered on the room’s flat surfaces. Two broken flutes were in the trash. The remains of cocaine and chocolate-covered strawberries were on the ground and all over the threesome.
Amanda cried out in joy as she was held upright between Matt and Eddie B., letting them both fuck her like they knew she liked: Bouncing her between them. “Yeah! Just like that,” Amanda hooted. “Just like — fucking — that, baby!”
Suddenly, she sniffed loudly. She smelled something awful. She’d seen a lot of shit — literal shit — in her lifetime, so her first instinct was to think that someone had lost their bowels. “Fucking baby laxative!” she grumbled. But she didn’t see any shit. She looked all around, wrinkling her nose. The stench was awful! Amanda looked back and forth around her — while still bouncing between her two favorite men. “Do you guys smell that? What is that?”
In unison, Matt and Eddie B. shook their heads; Matt grunted, “No.”
“It’s just…” Amanda’s voice trailed off. She tried not to breathe through her nose. But the smell was horrible! Like a dead rat behind the walls. “You really don’t smell that?”
Matt grunted a noise that Amanda thought meant “no”; then he looked up, high-fived Eddie B., and yelped excitedly. But suddenly, Matt got embarrassed and looked away, having the red-faced realization that he’d just made eye- and hand-contact with another guy while having sex.
And in that moment Amanda lost her balance. She reached out a hand to the wall to steady herself, but as she did, her hand went straight through the drywall, revealing a partially decomposed human head! A dead body was apparently standing upright just behind the wall, and Amanda’s hand had revealed its head!
Amanda screamed at the top of her lungs, and practically leaped away from the head. Matt and Eddie B. backed away in fear, finally smelling the horrific stench of rotting flesh that Amanda had been smelling for the past few minutes.
But it got worse. With its head sticking through the drywall, and the body standing upright behind it, the corpse’s weight started cracking through the wall — slowly at first, the sheetrock spiderwebbing — until finally the entire body crashed to the ground in Room 2679 of the Grand Plaza Hotel. Spilling dust and debris all over Amanda Romanclef, Eddie B., and Matt.
The corpse was recognizably a man. He was quite well-muscled, and hadn’t been dead too long: His body was only just starting to decompose. But all over him were huge, greenish, baseball-sized boils that had eaten straight through his clothing.
The largest of the boils rose disgustingly before Amanda’s very eyes and………popped! Splattering yellow-green puss in all directions.
Amanda, Matt, and Eddie B. just stood there in horrified shock, covered in dripping green puss.
If the sample reeled you in, get the book here for $.99.