Tuesday, December 4, 2012

Housetrap by RJ Hore Promo Blitz

Fantasy Detective
Title: Housetrap
Author: R.J. Hore
Date Published: 12/3/12
Publisher: Champagne Books

In a world ruled by committees of wizards, and packed with every creature, imagined
or un, at least in the sleazy backstreets of Central City you can always count on Randolph C.
Aloysius to solve your problems, for a price. That is, assuming his trusty Girl Friday (a Banshee
actually, name of Bertha Wildwater) can track him down and steer him on to the case. Randy is a
sucker for a pair of long legs, and that is what the Elf displayed when she came into the office, in
need of assistance to locate a missing boyfriend. Sounds like a simple case, right?
Of course, nothing is ever simple in Randy’s life, what with avoiding commitments to his
long-suffering lady friend, an attempted murder, an actual murder, stolen baubles, and another
damsel in distress, what’s a private eye supposed to do?
Simple really, follow the clues off-world, avoid demons, vampires and other assorted
miscreants, and hope he comes home with enough coin left over to meet Bertha’s back wages.


4. Reading Addiction Blog Tours

R.J. Hore
A reader of genre fiction since a very early age, got down to serious attempts at writing over thirty years ago, although employment kept getting in the way.
 I did write a considerable amount of non-fiction during my business career, enough to be listed as a professional writer by the Canadian Authors Association.
 Hobbies include trying to keep on the good side of my wife, keeping track of my children and grandchildren, and wrestling the blasted cat off of the keyboard. In my diminishing spare time I sail on Lake Winnipeg and try not to get lost.
 My writing history includes:
 Winning first prize in a National Canadian Authors short story contest (a romantic ghost story) and having that published in an anthology, and having a modern vampire tale published in an anthology that seems to be doing quite well.
 A current member of three writing organizations, for several years I was in charge of the judging for a national Canadian history book contest, and chaired a writer’s workshop in Winnipeg that self-published an anthology, including three of my pieces: a sci fi piece, an attempt at an epic poem, and a true tale of how I almost drowned my brother and his wife in a storm the first year I owned a sailboat.
 I currently review science fiction and fantasy genre novels and anthologies for an on-line magazine aimed primarily at school libraries. I’m losing track, but I have done somewhere over 60 reviews so far.
 In 20I0 co-authored a non fiction history: “The Rotary Club of Winnipeg-100 Years of Service”.
 Through BURST Books, writing as R.J.Hore, I have a medieval fantasy tale of murder and intrigue entitled “The Dark Lady” that came out in February 2012 and a fantasy detective story scheduled for December 2012 called “Housetrap”. Housetrap is designed as the first in a series of novellas; I have three others in the set already completed, but not scheduled, as of this date: “Dial M for Mudder,” “The House on Hollow Hill,” and “Hounds of Basalt Ville.” Already scheduled for publication, I have a novella “Knight’s Bridge” another medieval tale arriving in March 2013, and a full length novel, again a medieval fantasy, working title “Pawn, Queen, Checkmate,” coming out in April 2013.
 And of course, I also have a large stack of completed manuscripts in various stages ranging from a “What If” — the North Americans discovered Europe first, set in 1215AD – to a contemporary bickering married couple swept away to an alterative universe, or a futuristic tale of a lady archeologist set in outer space.

Contact Information
Purchase Links (Will be available upon release)


                                                  Housetrap(Excerpt One)

I don=t like Elves, never have. I sat tilting back in my chair counting the stains on the ceiling when she walked through the open door of my inner office unannounced . Unannounced because I’d just given Bertha the afternoon off to visit her sick brother. Bertha=s half Banshee, thin as a lamppost with long straight dark hair and big brown eyes. She=s always got a relative down with the Black Death or some obscure curse; I think she has twelve brothers, but I digress.

The Elf arrived in my office wrapped in a full-length gold lame coat with a large hood covering her head and hiding most of her features, but I could tell she was pure Elf. Those yellow eyes are a dead giveaway even if you can=t spot the pointed ears. I=m a student of nature, have to be; the breed often determines character, or motive, or veracity. In my business you have to stay two jumps ahead or you=re squashed like a scarab. I=m a Mongrel myself. You can never tell about Mongrels, and there are more of us around now ever since the Goldilocks affair. Now there was a real witch, not the kind with just a warty nose, but she married that Wolf  back in the days before they gave femmes the vote. Then they went overboard and made it all legal in the Intermarriage Act of 1812, and everything has tumbled Jack over Jill downhill ever since.

The Elf glanced about the room nervously, then in a single fluid motion crossed her long legs and slid into the battered chair opposite me like maple syrup poured from a mason jar. I sighed deep inside, rocked forward to rest my elbows on the scratched oak desk, painted a smile across my ugly mug and waited. I had all day; it had been two weeks since my last case. She fidgeted for a minute and I matched her, stare for stare, until my eyeballs screamed for mercy. The Elf had the kind of face you see perched high on a mantelpiece, thin bone china, pale, delicate, and carved by a master.

Housetrap(Excerpt Two)

Faith tongued my ear and moved on, leaving me quite damp. I don=t know what some parents think about raising children, but Grizzly=s methods leave something to be seriously reviewed by the Committee of Public Knowledge and Enlightenment. A young lady should definitely not be brought up and educated in an all-night snack and beverage emporium. And she should at the least learn to respect her elders. I dragged my tired carcass onto a pair of flat feet and headed for the exit sign.

The rain had stopped but the early morning air remained chill. I often thought things out clearest while strolling during these purple-grey hours before the sun cleared the buildings. My own little rooms were only blocks away. After the first block I knew I was being followed.

The empty street stretched out ahead, a long mist-clad tunnel of dark shadows and faint gaslight. One or two of the street lamps in the next block had already burned out, leaving gaps of pure blackness not yet touched by the yawning whisper of the dawn. There were at least two of them trailing behind me; I could tell that much by the muffled footsteps. Which two, and why they were not bothering to hide their approach, I could only guess at. But if I were a gambler, I=d wager Bertha=s next pay cheque that they had some connection with our little lost love, dear Rupert. Passing through the pale ring of light on the sidewalk cast by the next lamp, I paused, slipping my left hand into the glass knuckles in my coat pocket, and casually turned around so that my followers would be caught in the glow.

AGood evening gentlemen, taking an early morning stroll? I don=t believe I=ve seen you in the neighbourhood before.@

The Vampire smiled, fixing his sunken black eyes upon me. The more elderly and taller partner of the pair, he stood motionless, long grasping hands dangling out from the sleeves of his greatcoat, thin fingers twitching. The Demon shimmered silently beside him, the light sparkling on his green scales. Shorter and stockier than his cadaverous companion, he licked his lips.

The bloodsucker spoke first, in a voice that echoed as a cross somewhere between coarse sandpaper and an untuned fiddle. AI believe you know a close acquaintance of ours, a young Master Rupert? We are searching for him.@

ADon=t know the lad, I=m afraid.@ I recognized the tall Ghoul=s accent though.

The Vampire drifted to the nearer edge of the dim circle of light. The Demon faded toward my right and the deserted street. I loosened the splatter gun with a slight move of my shoulder.

AOh dear, we just want to speak with the boy. What can you tell us of his whereabouts?@

Not only was this parasite on the ripe side of the last century, but he had a set of bad teeth and nasty breath I could smell from ten feet away 


1 comment:

  1. just thought i'd mention that your twitter and pintrest links don't work


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