Brass
Stars
A.G.
Carpenter
Genre: SF
Western
Publisher: Eggplant
Literary Productions, Inc.
Date of Publication:
11/18/2013
ISBN:
978-1-932207-49-1(Nook),
ISBN:
978-1-932207-50-7 (Kindle)
Word Count: 21,000
Cover Artist: Paul
Alexandrescu
Book Description:
Tashndelu Sand has
wandered the known universe on a mission of vengeance. She’s
spent years tracking down the gang who murdered her mother. And,
with the help of Snyder—a psychotic cyber-horse with an agenda of
his own—she’s killed all but one: Brannigan.
Now she’s come to
Paradise, a lonely town on a desert planet. Here, Brannigan
rules with a new gang. Here, the graveyard is filled with the
corpses of gunslingers who have tried, and failed, to kill him.
Get in, kill
Brannigan, and get out. That’s the plan. And Tashn is
determined to finish what she started. She’ll not be stopped:
not by Brannigan’s army; not by her feelings for Johnny, an Extra
sapien like her; not even by the darkness she sees in herself.
Excerpt:
I stand up, sway for
a moment and catch my shoulder hard against the post. “Ungh. Damn.”
Jackson is on his
feet in a heartbeat, slipping his arms around my waist. “Easy.”
My cheeks are hot.
At least it’s dark and maybe he won’t notice. “I’m all
right.”
“You’re
certain?”
“Just tired.” I
try to shrug away from his hands. “It’s been a long day.”
“Yes.” A pause.
“Tashn…” He leans in and kisses me.
Warm as a spring
afternoon. Intense as a lightning strike. His arms holding me hard
and close. Pushing me back toward the house.
It’s nice.
Enjoyable, even. And also terrifying. There is no spark like there is
with Johnny, no rush of blood in thighs and breasts.
This is energy of a
different kind. I take a breath, trying to find something to say.
“What the hell, Jackson.” I thump his shoulder with my fist. “You
think I’m easy?”
“No.” His eyes
are dark, serious. He pulls me in a second time, slower, but no less
intense. My chest aches with it.
“Stop.” My hands
are knotted in the front of his shirt, caught somewhere between
pulling him close and shoving him away. “Let go of me.”
He takes a half-step
back, leaning against the other side of the doorframe. Only inches
separate us, but it hurts like a bruise.
I press both hands
against my chest, panting for breath. This isn’t lust, and I’ll
be damned if I think it’s love. But I know this pain. The grief of
separation, no matter how slight. The echo of connection, no matter
how permanent the distance.
I felt this way when
they put Mother under the sand.
I felt this way the
day I left my father’s village.
“Damn you,
Jackson.” I can barely whisper around the weight over my heart.
He cups my face
between his hands. “Come inside, Tashn.”
“I can’t.”
“John won’t keep
you safe like I will.”
“Like you will. A
gunner with no gun.” I grin, bitter. “I think I’ll take my
chances with the one-eyed Extra.”
He tips his head as
though he will kiss me again, but this time I lean away from him.
Read
another excerpt here:
http://eggplantproductions.com/excerpt-brass-stars-g-carpenter/
About the Author:
A.G. Carpenter
writes fiction of (and for) all sorts. She studied film-making in
college, but quickly discovered that pen and paper are a less costly
medium. She likes: movies where things explode, rainy days, strong
tea with lots of milk and sugar. Her favorite color is black.
She lives in the South-eastern United States with her husband, their lively son and a herd of cats.
Twitter: @Aggy_C
Blog:
agcarpenter.blogspot.com
Goodreads: A.G.
Carpenter
Bonus Material
for Release Day Blitz:
What Happened to
Earth?
- Theories abound about the reported “loss” of Homo Sapien's
planet of origin, but they boil down to three main ideas.
The most commonly
accepted is The Navigational Miscalculation Theory. It claims there
was an error in the navigational calculations much like the Mars
Surveyor loss of 1998 AD. By the time the error was detected and
rectified, the coordinates of origin had been so corrupted it was
impossible to relocate Earth. (This would also explain the dozens of
transports that missed their target worlds on this end.) The
specifics of the type of miscalculation and the degree of error are
the subject of heated debate especially at a university level.
The second major
theory is the Deliberate Data Corruption Theory. Proponents hold that
the navigational charts and data were deliberately corrupted in order
to keep Homo Sapien from returning to a homeworld that was already
damaged beyond the ability to support large quantities of life.
“Nostalgia,” one scientist was reported as saying, “can be more
powerful than self-preservation.”
The third theory is
The Rich Bastards Theory. In this theory the wealthy decided to keep
Earth for themselves and paid to have the origin coordinates
destroyed or corrupted. The biggest flaw in this particular idea is
the continuing presence of rich bastards in the colonies.
Leeland Snyder's
Last Words
A tall man with
thin hands and dark hair takes a seat opposite the recorder and
smooths a piece of paper on the table in front of him. He clears his
throat.
I, Leeland Snyder,
now record my final words.
A pause, while he
studies the paper.
My final words in
this
material form. If there is justice in the world, my brain will
survive the planned surgery and I will be given a second-chance at
life. A chance to prove that I am innocent of the crimes of which I
have been accused.
He combs his hair
behind his ears.
I know that many of
you feel I am an evil man, guilty of the murders of seventeen women
and one child, but I can only remind you that sixteen of them were my
wives. I am as heartbroken as the rest of their families over their
brutal loss. I can only hope that the true killer will eventually be
brought to justice.
An unsettling
smile turns his mouth up at the corners.
In the matter of
Abigail McKinley and her half-breed daughter, I had no role in their
deaths. Though I was witness to the real criminals who took that
mother and child too soon. I leave it to you to draw the natural
conclusion that my subsequent trial and conviction is merely the
attempt to bury the truth that I am capable of revealing.
He folds up the
paper and tucks it into his pocket.
For the others, my
dear and departed wives, I can only mourn. And I pray that those
powers that be will allow me to continue my existence in some form
'til I may bring the truth about their deaths to light. Well. All
except for Martha Clemmings. That bitch had it coming.
– End of Recording
–
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