@MJWebbBooks @TeamFallen #Giveaway "Infernal Gates" Book feature, Excerpt and Giveaway

Infernal Gates

Author: Michael J. Webb

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Synopsis: Ethan Freeman, ex-Special Forces Ranger, wakes up to discover he is the sole survivor of a fiery commercial airline crash that killed his entire family. His nightmare is only beginning when he becomes the FBI’s prime suspect. Only Ethan knows he’s not a cold-hearted murderer, but he has no idea what happened to him--and why he alone survived.


He finds an unlikely ally in Sam Weaver, the NTSB Chief Investigator. An ex-military pilot, Sam senses Ethan is innocent. She tries to remain dispassionate in her investigation of the crash even as she finds herself attracted to the man who may be America's worst homegrown mass-murderer.

Neither Ethan nor Sam realize that shadowy spiritual forces are at work which will alter their lives forever. A monstrous evil, imprisoned since the time of the Pharaohs, has been released by The Nine, a sinister group of powerful men and women who believe they are the direct descendants of the Anunnaki, ancient Sumerian gods. The demon they have unleashed intends to free The Destroyer from The Abyss, the angelic prison referred to in the Book of Revelation, and unleash a worldwide reign of terror and annihilation.

Facing impossible odds, time is running out for Ethan and all of humanity as he is drawn into an ever-deeper conspiracy--millennia in the making--and learns that he is the key to stopping The Nine. He must overcome his deepest fears and find reserves of strength he never knew he had as he confronts pure evil in order to save himself and an unsuspecting world.

SNEAK PEEK

Less than ten minutes
before we’re all dead, thought
Ethan Freeman, and there is nothing I can do about it!

The stricken A320
Airbus--originally bound for St. Thomas and now limping back to Charlotte,
North Carolina—shuddered like a bird suffering a mortal wound, then shook
violently.  Shouting and screaming from the rear of the plane drowned out
the prayer of the older couple seated in front of them, “Our Father, Who art in
Heaven, Hallowed be Thy Name, Thy kingdom come—”

Lisa, Ethan’s wife,
sobbed beside him.  Across the aisle his eighteen year-old son, Josh,
yelled, “Dad--are we going to crash?”

“No, son,” he lied.
 “We-are-not-going-to-crash.”

Megan, his sixteen
year-old daughter, seated next to her brother, screamed, “The engine is on
FIRE!”

Lisa clung to the seat
arms so hard her fingers turned white and whimpered, “We’re all going to
die--just like Greg,” then moaned, “I don’t want to die—”

Ethan reached for his
wife’s hand as a thunderous explosion shook the plane and slammed him against
the window, knocking breath out of him.  He cried out in agony as the palm
of his right hand was sliced open by a jagged metal clasp sticking up on the
arm rest between him and Lisa.  Blood gushed out of the ugly-looking wound
and splattered the back of the seat in front of him.

The plane banked hard to
the right and the nose suddenly pointed toward the ground, six miles below, as
if the commercial airliner was being plucked from the cloudless, crystal blue
heavens by a giant unseen hand.  Ethan glanced toward the rear of the
aircraft.  A gaping hole replaced the emergency exit.  Loose debris
disappeared violently out of the plane—and there were at least two rows of
seats missing!

Swinging his gaze back
to the First Class Cabin, Ethan noticed that ice crystals now clung to the
windows.  His ears popped as oxygen masks dropped from overhead.
 Shivering, he reached for the oxygen mask dangling in front of him like a
puppet on a string and struggled to place it over his mouth and nose.  He
took several deep breaths, ignoring his bleeding hand, then yelled out to his
family, “Put your masks on!”  

In the next instant, he
was pressed so hard into his seat it seemed as if he weighed four to five times
his normal weight.  Black spots danced before his eyes and he fought for
breath. 

All he could think about
was that he had failed his family—that he had not been able to save them.
 He cried out in desperation, “GOD HELP US—”  

Moments later, a flash
of blinding white light enveloped him as a blast of fiery heat washed over him.

Then everything went black.

About the Author: Michael J. Webb graduated summa cum laude from the
University of Florida and obtained his J. D. from the same university.
 Over the past forty years he has travelled the world in search of adventure.

He is a
history buff, both ancient and modern, and is fascinated by the intersection of
the scientific, supernatural, and Biblical world views, and has studied and
taught from the Bible extensively for more than twenty-five years. He is also
intrigued by recent discoveries in quantum physics that are now providing
extraordinary insights into the reality of the spirit realm, especially as it
relates to the study of Light.  He incorporates all of the above into his
supernatural thrillers.

Michael
and his wife make their home in Charlotte, North Carolina.  

Where to Find the Author: Website/Goodreads/Amazon Author Page/Facebook/Google+

GIVEAWAY

**5 Winners Will Be Selected**

**Giveaway ENDS OCT 2, 2013**

**Winners have 48 HOURS to respond before another winner is chosen**

**Must be 13 or older to enter**

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@JKSLitPublicity and @JTABooks "DeMarco's Cafe" Excerpt

If you follow this link, you'll see my post from earlier today about DeMarco's Cafe by Julie Tetel Andresen. Please check it out if you haven't already. What I have now is an excerpt from this book that came in while I was out over the weekend, so settle down, take a short break, and enjoy!

Chapter One

From force of habit Dayna began her shift by fussing with the plastic bins of lemon wedges, lime wedges, olives, and maraschino cherries. She squared off the small, warped cutting board and made sure the paring knife was placed precisely and diagonally across it. With a deft twist of her fist she fanned the stack of cocktail napkins so that they could be easily plucked one at a time. She idly stirred the glass bristling with the miniature red plastic cocktail straws and deemed it full enough to not need refilling. Ditto the shot glass with the toothpicks.

She looked up when a group of four men breezed in. They were tall and rangy and seemed to know the place, because without hesitating they made their way down the narrow passage between the bar stools and the single row of tables lining the exterior wall. They ducked through the narrow door to the back room. She heard the scrape of chairs and the rumble of their voices as they settled themselves.

She slid her order pad and a pen into her belt. She arranged glasses of water and napkin-wrapped cutlery on a tray, which she poised on the raised palm of one hand. She plucked menus from the stack next to the citrus bins, lifted the hinged section of the staging bar, and closed it again behind her, all in one fluid movement. As she crossed the few steps to the back room, she predicted, just to test her memory of how sound moved through the space, that the men had chosen Table Three.

She passed through the door under the antique sign that read ladies and gents sitting roomand – bingo – she saw the men on the left-hand side of the room at the table next to the window crowded against the back wall. Table Three. Her feat was hardly extraordinary. There were only nine tables in the tiny room, and she had had a partial view of several of them from her vantage point behind the bar She caught the eye of Sarah who was working the back room, to let her know she was setting up the newcomers’ table. She crossed the space and greeted the men as she set the water and cutlery before them She handed each a menu.

She was about to leave them to their deliberations when one of the men asked, “You new here?”

She shook her head and said pleasantly, “No, not new.” She turned to leave again but hadn’t gone a half step before he challenged,

“You sure?”

She turned back and looked down at the man who had draped his arm over the back of his chair so that he could look up at her She glanced around the table. Their faces were a little blurry. If she had had the money, she would have reordered her contact lenses. She was sorry that she had left her glasses behind the bar. Nevertheless, she was close enough to the man speaking to her to determine that he was youngish – probably not much older than her twenty-six. Call him early thirties, tops.

She smiled faintly. “Yeah, I’m sure,” she said, her manner still pleasant.

“Then we’re ready to order,” he said, without so much as a glance at the menu.

She took out her pad and clicked her pen.

“We’re having the usual,” he said.

So this was the game. Did it have to be in the first five minutes back on the job? She raised her brows and circled her glance once again around the table. Damn, she would have liked to be wearing her glasses. “Everyone, then?” she asked. “The usual?”

Three heads nodded.

“And to drink, I’m guessing it’s –”

“The usual.”

“Right,” she said, with another faint smile. She put the pad and pen back in her belt and collected their menus. “I’ll get that order right in.” She left them and went straight to the kitchen, maneuvering around the bustle and the stainless steel workstations.

She found a trusty busboy. “Hector, my darling,” she said, putting a friendly arm around his shoulders. “Could you sweep around Table Two and then tell me if you know what the men at Table Three usually order? If you know their food orders, return to the kitchen and tell Maria. Then come to the bar and let me know what to serve them to drink. Hold on to your cleaning props, and don’t look at them again when you pass through the back room.”

Hector nodded. While he retrieved a broom and dustpan from a corner, Dayna returned to the front room and the bar where several customers had bellied up. They obliged her by actually telling her what they wanted to eat and drink. She got their drinks going and handed their food orders to Tina, her best friend in the world, who was working the front room tables.

A few minutes later, Hector returned with the good news, bad news. The good news was that Maria knew the foursome’s food orders and Hector knew their drink orders. The bad news was that they were the band that had played five nights at the café the week before. They were back now for their second week.

“They’re the what?” she asked, hoping she had misheard.

Hector shrugged, as if he had no desire to belabor the point.

She sighed and made a mental note to find out what this needless expense was costing. She had returned to town with an inkling of financial problems troubling the café. Although her meeting with the accountant wasn’t for another week, she decided it would be prudent to prepare for it. With another sigh, she foresaw her day shift followed by a long night shift deep in the accounts.

In an undertone she said, “Please tell me their meals haven’t been comped this whole time.”

Hector shrugged again, this time as if in genuine ignorance.

“Well, if they have been, they aren’t anymore,” she said with the first real smile she had cracked since stepping into her old role. “Thanks, Hector.”

“No problem,” he said and got back to work.

She drew the beer and went to Table Three. She made sure to set the glasses in front of them with a light touch. Before she left, she assured them that their food would be right out. She returned to preside over the bar and picked up some tables to give Tina a hand until she judged the moment – to the exact minute – when Maria would have the plates ready. Maria had had the presence of mind to check on the seating arrangement of Table Three. Thus, as Dayna was stacking the dishes on the hot pads lining her left arm, Maria was able to tell her who was to get the fish and chips, the burger, the salmon sandwich, and the veggie burger. Dayna served the order without a hitch and, with no hint of triumph, invited them to enjoy their meal. She returned to the front room without a backward glance. When the time was right, she sent Sarah to present them with their bill and to settle up.

Not too many minutes after that, the men emerged from the back room and filed past her. The one in front – who did all of the talking, apparently – waved cheerfully and said, “See you tonight, sweetheart!” She was not sure (because she would be damned if she would put her glasses on now), but she thought he winked at her. The next two also waved and smiled at her. The fourth one paused.

There was just enough room between the two customers seated at the bar in front of her for the fourth man to lean forward and put his forearms on the wooden lip of the old polished plank. “Rick isn’t a complete jerk,” he said. “At least, not all of the time.”

She lifted a skeptical brow, but she wasn’t going to reject the apology outright. “Good to know,” she said. He was close enough in her visual field for her to see that he was not bad-looking. “And you’re –” she paused infinitesimally “– the veggie burger?”

He shook his head. “Salmon sandwich.” He pointed to his band mates. “Rick is the fish and chips. Josh is the plain burger. Nick is the veggie burger.” He smiled and pushed himself away from the bar.

Okay, he had a nice voice and an attractive smile, but that didn’t mean she would ask him his name. Nor was she going to make a point of finding out what it was.

“See you tonight,” he said.

She shook her head. “My shift will be over by then.”

“Another time, then,” he said and moved on in order to catch up with the threesome waiting for him at the front door.

She didn’t bother telling him that although she might not see them later this evening, she was sure to hear them. Just this morning she had moved back into her old bedroom in the apartment on the floor above the café.

****