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Lorraine is the founder of Authors on Show, a natural born sceptical medium, healer, controversial author of spiritual books, blogger and public speaker. She has three books self-published, one other already completed and four more on the go. To see where to buy Lorraine's books or read her blogs, please scroll to the bottom of this page.
Before I get to my main promotion this week, check out this brilliant site for an article with
Lesley Cookman author of many books including, Murder to Music
here's the link to read more about her and her books http://bit.ly/gy0wOd
This week I am happy to promote
Sara Curran-Ross was born on April 1970 in the UK where she resides with her husband, daughter and dog.
She was training to be a Legal Executive once upon a time until she went to university. In 2002 Sara graduated from university with a honours degree in History after giving birth to her daughter in 1999 in the middle of it all. Ever a glutton for punishment, she returned to university at the end of 2007 and in 2008 graduated with a History Masters Degree.
Sara has been writing since her teenage years and has now made it her full time focus. She enjoys writing thrillers, dark fantasy and historical romance novels and is always on the lookout for a new writing challenge.
Website : http://www.saracurranross.com
The Organ Grinder
BlurbAward winning journalist Rebecca Eaton crosses the closed border of a troubled Asian country to interview a Human Rights activist and known terrorist. Three days later, after her reported mysterious disappearance, she turns up at the border tortured, beaten, minus her memory and one kidney.
When an attempt is made on her life in hospital, her employer sends Eaton’s estranged ex-lover and security expert Dominic Kane to bring her safely home.
Kane wants Rebecca back in his arms. But before he can entice her into a reconciliation he has to help her expose a worldwide medical conspiracy involving mass murder and the illegal sale of stolen human organs.
Kane has to protect Rebecca from the men sent to silence her and the terrorists who demand she ensures the medical criminals are brought to justice or four suicide bombs will be detonated in London.
PrologueAsia – North Bundhara border
The young British UN soldier watched an unidentified truck rumble along the broken pot holed track they called No Man’s land. A suicide mission? The question rattled loud and fierce in his mind. He stepped out onto the road amidst the steady stream of refugees making their weary way to the precarious safety of North Bundhara. Part of his job was to assist their evacuation, the other to protect them with force if needed. The truck was swerving scattering the rag tag band of people in its way to either side. The soldier aimed his standard issue rifle. He felt a strange cocktail mix of fear and excitement swirl noisily inside his stomach. At last he was about to see some action.
The truck stopped dead in front of him but still some distance away. He shouted at the frightened people to take cover and move away. Shrieks and wails of fear echoed all around him dispelling the quiet of the forest. Small tattered clothed children were lifted from carts leaving bewildered horses wondering where their human loads had disappeared to. Everyone scuttled down the banks of the road to take cover. The soldier glanced to his side noticing that a North Bundenese soldier was now standing near providing support.
The doors of the truck opened and two men got out. He couldn’t make their faces out in the dimming light. The South Bundenese didn’t take too kindly to people deserting their country for their decadent immoral neighbour. This could have been one of those army missions to round refugees up and execute them for treason. He shouted halt but his command was ignored.
The soldier felt his palms begin to sweat as the figures moved around to the back of the truck. He stretched his fingers along his rifle feeling them begin to tighten with tension. He repeated his command. This time with the intention to shoot if they did not obey him but his threat appeared idle. He knew that he had to make a decision.
It was so damn hot. He could smell the heat all over his wet body under his fatigues. Fixing his fingers more firmly on the rifle he took a couple of steps forward repeating his threat once more. He had to play it cool, firing was the last option. They were his orders. A trickle of moisture ran under his helmet, down his neck and onto his chest. It irritated his skin making him desperate to rub it away. The two men lifted something heavy out of the back of the truck and brought it around to the front. ‘Make your mind up, make a decision. Shoot to kill or be killed. But what if I am wrong? What if it is the wrong call?’ he muttered to himself under his breath.
The soldier’s finger jumped on the trigger as they carried the bag between them and threw it on the ground not far from him. Only the realisation that it was a body bag stopped him firing. He guessed it was the same for the North Bundenese soldier who stood at his side. He tried asking them about the bag, but there was no reply. One of the men returned to the truck and brought out a round object in a bag. It was the shape of a football. The soldier’s heart start to thud inside his chest louder than it had ever done. He had a bad feeling about this object.
His gut twisted painfully. His finger jumped once more on the rifle as the man took the object out of the bag and rolled it along the ground towards him. He froze unable to complete the action. As it tapped the toe of his boot he closed his eyes waiting for the anticipated explosion. It had to be a bomb. He hadn’t expected his new career to end so abruptly and so soon. He looked down deciding to face his fate and found his football bomb was a bloody, jagged decapitated head.
CHAPTER ONELondon – Docklands – Three days later
Dominic Kane sat in Anna Harker’s penthouse office overlooking the Thames. He studied Harker as she leant against the front of her large ornate desk next to his chair watching the news on the middle of three LCD TVs on the wall ahead of her. She was now in her late sixties and was one of the most powerful noises in the British and global media. She was a strong ruthless businesswoman who didn’t suffer fools. At twenty seven she ran the small press Dolls House Publishing and bought it from its owner when he was financially ruined. By the age of thirty five she owned a string of successful newspapers and publishing companies and turned her attention to cable networks. This was the woman who fought off a massive takeover bid of her holding company Turnstile Communications from her hospital bed when the vultures smelt death last October.
She was also the woman famous for being attacked one night in Central Park and successfully fighting off her assailant, armed only with an umbrella at the age of sixty-three. A fierce supporter of human rights and the abolition of violence against women Harker wasn’t afraid to speak out and cause a stir. She was a powerful woman and needed to be handled with great respect.
She was still a good looking woman. Her appearance was immaculate, crisp and clean in her black suit. Her blonde hair was cropped in a no nonsense short bob and her attractive hazel eyes told Kane that she knew more about him than he was comfortable with.
He turned to watch the screen once more. ATM’s newsreader Monty Turner was serving up the latest on their missing star correspondent. She had been found at the North Bundenese border less than 24hours ago. She had been making headlines all around the world since her disappearance in South Bundhara three days ago, straining the tense relations between Britain and the US who were threatening air strikes and retaliation if South Bundhara decided to make good on its threat and invade North Bundhara.
Another glance at Harker’s face told him of her concern for Rebecca. Kane had done his research. Rebecca wasn’t just another employee of her channel, ATM, she was one of Harker’s friends. Harker was almost a replacement mother figure and like him she had been listening to the harrowing rumours of torture, rape and other physical crimes forced on Rebecca’s body. The woman looked ill with worry. He turned his attention to the screen once more, back to the interview with the UN soldier that found Rebecca. It was the sixth time he had seen the report.
‘She was just walking along the road behind some of the refugees. She looked out of it. I didn’t recognise her at first. When I ran up to her she backed off. She tried to make a run for it down the bank into the trees. I am sure it was my uniform that made her frightened. I took off after her and brought her back. She was so dazed she didn’t even know her own name.’
‘And what condition was Rebecca in? I mean, was she injured? I am sure you realise how concerned we are at ATM,’ one of the correspondents crowding around him jostling for position asked. Kane watched the soldier smile and nod clearly loving the limelight.
‘Yes of course I do. She was exhausted, dehydrated, I guess. She had obviously been beaten and she was clutching at a wound on her left side that was bleeding. She collapsed in my arms. She has been taken to hospital now.’
The interview continued to play but Harker talked over it. She spoke suddenly, the emotional strain clearly audible in her voice this time. ‘I want you out there.’
Kane simply nodded. Inside he was elated. ‘I take it the rumours are true then?” he said carefully.
There was a pause from Harker. She turned to face him directly and he could clearly see tears brimming in her eyes. ‘Yes, they are. She’s been beaten, tortured, raped, starved ...’ Another pause. Kane noticed she took in a breath before she started again.
‘And that’s not even the worst. She’s been cut open, operated on. One of her kidneys has been removed, stolen. She was butchered. It wasn’t a neat job and from what the doctors can gather there were some intra-operative complications.’ Harker raised her eyes to the ceiling and took another breath as she composed herself once more.
She continued, ‘That’s where the mystery comes in. Those complications appear to have been dealt with well, as though someone skilled intervened in the operation to tidy it up. But her surgical wound has become infected and the doctors are worried that she might develop pneumonia. She can’t remember anything that has happened to her. She can’t remember her own name or her past. Not even her family or friends.’...
To read more and to buy this book see below.
Thriller/action romance The Organ Grinder is now published as a E-book by Solstice Publishing at
and is available for Kindle etc on
I am just waiting to hear any day now when it is to go into print.
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