GHOST NO MORE - BY BLAZE MCROB

 

https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B01BOFI7UE/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_bibl_vppi_i55

Blaze McRob thrills us with horror, adventure, survival against insurmountable odds, and yes, even a thread of tender romance to temper all the action. Ghost No More has all that and more to keep your eyes wide and reading into the spooky, wee hours of the morning. Revel in this chilling novel, and prepare yourself for the second in the series coming in 2022.

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Thank you, Wendy Howard for this great review!

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Wendy Howard

5.0 out of 5 stars King of Revenge

Reviewed in the United States on June 7, 2019

Verified Purchase

Blaze is the king of revenge horror! His hero is always strong and driven in the most wicked ways. I really enjoyed this novel start to finish! Always something happening to finish.

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A short teaser to whet your appetite for more:

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The fire takes the chill out of the cabin. Even though it's early fall, the air has quite a nip to it. I hadn't planned on being here at all: sometimes things happen.

There are plenty of logs stacked by the fireplace. As isolated as this place is, there are no power lines anywhere. Fire for heat, and candles for any extra light if I should need it. That's about it.

I should be in the city right now, enjoying the fame of my new novel. Yeah, that's what I should be doing. Instead, I'm holed up in the mountains, away from everyone, in a one-room cabin with just the bare necessities. It's a nice cabin, knotty pine paneling adorning all the interior walls, the light texture of the wood capturing the dancing flames, shadows moving in and out of every nook and cranny, the corners displaying the more unique of the patterns. This is supposed to calm me, to take away the anxiety, putting my mind at ease.

I've been fucked over. To the max. For more years than I can remember, I've been a ghostwriter, one of those guys that no one knew even existed until just a little while ago. I had my reasons. And, if truth be told, I did pretty damned well. We split the money, the author under whose name I wrote benefited when he couldn't meet a deadline because good old Bob would have one ready for him. And, of course, more novels were sold in his name than would have ever been sold under mine. A win/win for both of us.

But now, I want to change all of that. This time, I have written my finest work and I plan to have it come out under my name.

Yes, that's the plan, but it's not going to happen. My bastard of an agent knew the novel for what it truly is and sold the rights to the highest bidder. No one knows who I am! Shit, I don't have a leg to stand on!

All the reviews say this is the ultimate horror novel: the perfect combination of horror with just the right amount of gore added in. I agree. Only now, it won't go out in my name.

What more can I do other than stew over it, pushing myself into a state of depression unlike any I have ever had before. This was to be my crowning achievement. Now it's my saddest hour.

Even PTSD can't compare to this. The memories of all that happened in 'Nam weighing on my mind; the same dreams spinning in my head night after night, always having the same endings, never coming to a happy conclusion: always death; cold, hard calculated death. I've been taking medication for this, seeing the shrinks; all the stuff they've wanted me to do I've done. For what? So my mind can be completely snowballed under by treachery.

Jack Slade. One great author: fantastic resume; 38 novels to his credit. I'm more Slade than he is. I've written 29 of those books. And here he is, waltzing around, waving my book in his hand, espousing this to be THE definitive work. Jack Slade, the modern-day Poe they're calling him. Poe, my ass!

Up here, I don't have to listen to the newscasts, look at the book reviews, or see my books on the shelves. My publisher says we have to go along with all this hype to make this the success it can be. Money. Filthy lucre. Sure, I'm making money on this, but the novel could stand on its own. There is no hype needed.

Night becomes day. The fire still roars. It should; I've been up all night tending to it. Sleep: like I could have slept with this festering in my brain. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. Perhaps I should have stayed in the city. I don't know. Confusion is eating away at me. Is this the way it's always going to be? Will I never be accepted as Robert Schantz, horror writer supreme? Am I to constantly toil in the foxhole of behind-the-scenes shenanigans?

If I were to go with a different publishing house, how would I explain my past writing? Contractual obligations; I can't fucking discuss any of this. Sure, I have the contracts in my possession. But by displaying them, I would void them. Shit! They might make me pay the money back.

I put some more logs on the fire and go out for a walk to clear my head. Maybe a plan will pop into my head. Something. Anything.

The cool air is perfect for thinking; the gray matter just sizzles. Yes, as ludicrous as things are playing out in my head, I think I can make this work. It has to be done just right. But, yeah...

I almost run back to the cabin and pack. I have to get to the city fast before everything goes crazy. Before it's too late.

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Happy reading!

Blaze McRob

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The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Copyright 2021 by Blaze McRob. All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the author constitutes unlawful piracy and theft of the author's intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the author directly. Thank you for your support of the author's rights.

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Cover art by Terri DelCampo.