I’m featuring a special excerpt for the romantic suspense novel, Desert Heat, by P.H. Turner today.
During her virtual book tour, P.H. Turner will be awarding a $20 Amazon or Barnes and Noble (winner’s choice) gift card to a lucky randomly drawn winner. To be entered for a chance to win, use the form below. To increase your chances of winning, feel free to visit her other tour stops and enter there, too!
A little bit about Desert Heat:
Social worker Jordan Bia finds a child who escaped her captors and a life in the sex trade, but four other girls from her small Mexican village were not so lucky. Smugglers hide their human cargo in the hoodoos of a remote canyon on the reservation—a place the Navajo shun, fearful of the witches who practice their black rituals and feast on the dark energy of evil. Mysterious rites, omens of death, and bodies litter the canyon.
When she meets Navajo police officer Sam Tohee, sparks fly fueled by the danger of hunting men who buy and sell little girls. Techno savvy Jordan plots to trap the smugglers and free the rest of the children, but unless she and Sam can find the power to defeat the witches she may not live long enough to save the girls.
Excerpt from Desert Heat:
I wriggled around, trying to ease the pain in my back and butt, but no place on the cold rock was comfortable. I finally dozed off into a troubled sleep, twitching with violent dreams that looped and twisted, finally morphing into the vision of a mutilated body of a woman lying on the canyon floor. Cold mist twined through the fins and hoodoos, swirling around her body, creeping over my boots as I inched toward the woman's corpse. Fear had me quivering, but I was drawn to her body like a moth to a flame. I saw no one, heard nothing, smelled nothing, felt only the cold steal into my bones and the unseen force pull me ever closer to her.
Dim moonlight shimmered over the dead woman, glinting obscenely off her sightless eyes. One of her arms and part of one breast had been gnawed; dark blood stained the sand beneath her, and an arm bone gleamed white in a shaft of moonlight. I tried to scream, but no noise came out. A single omen of death, the owl feather, had been laid across her neck, and gray ash powder covered her nude body.
Clumsy with terror, I stumbled over an up-thrust rock and crashed backward, knocking my head on a boulder. She arose and drifted to me, hovering over me, reaching out to me with her mangled arm. Rotting flesh that hung in tattered strips from her arm brushed my sweater.
I call Austin, Texas home now after working on the East and West coasts, the Rocky Mountains, and an island in the Gulf of Mexico. I've come full circle to live and work close to the farm my family settled in the 1850's.
Truth is stranger than fiction, and years in the news business provided lots of peculiar characters and stories to write about. My books are set in my favorite places, the desert canyons and high mountains of the American West.