Indie Book Promo is happy to welcome Dennis Sharpe to the blog. He’s here to share about his book, Distant Thunder. If this book sounds like something you would be interested in reading, please find a buy link below and pick up a copy or two.
You can take the dead girl out of the country…
Veronica Fischer, small-town bloodsucking madam, is an orphan or at least she finally feels that way. Jules, the one who made her, is gone and cleaning up after him isn’t something she ever thought she’d have to do.
While her hometown seems to be turning against her, she’s forced to set off for the bright lights of the big city with a carload of her dysfunctional supernatural family, hoping not to have to face the Dragon of Chicago.
Now she has to rescue a sister she didn’t know she had, keep Rachel—her adopted 8-year-old ghost—safe, and try to keep Pekin from unraveling under the onset of the coming storm.
Sex, violence, and cryptic undead prophecy—all for fun and profit.
Distant thunder can be purchased from Amazon
Born and raised in the middle of the American Midwest, Dennis Sharpe has been a writer as long as he can remember. His mother has told many people about the fantasy and science fiction stories he’d write on scraps of paper, and staple together as his ‘books’, before he’d attended his first day of formal education.
He has spent many late nights at diners and dives, drinking coffee with a tattered notebook to put a voice to his feelings of himself and the world around him, and other worlds that can exist only in fiction. The voices in his head don’t ever stop talking to him, and so sooner or later he has to get out onto a page all that they’ve filled him up with.
Inspired by Neil Gaiman, Kurt Vonnegut, Frank Miller, Chrissie Pappas, Charles Bukowski, Stephen King, Issac Asimov, and countless classic literary influences, Dennis continues with the ability to write what at a glance might seem absurd, but quickly begins to resonate with our own thoughts and emotions. He writes people we know, love we’ve known and lost (and found again), and places we’ve been in our lives and in our heads. Even his fictional characters and worlds carry enough of the grey areas we experience in day-to-day life, to let us find the truth in his words, no matter how fantastic.
These days he can be found still writing, drinking coffee with friends, or spending time with his children (the true joys of his life), in Western Kentucky.
JULES IS DEAD, and there wasn’t even so much as a funeral. There were no services or gatherings to mark his passing. I guess I should be used to things like that by now— rituals like those are left behind when we stop breathing— but it just doesn’t sit right with me. It just seems so weird. Clearly, I haven’t adjusted to that part of what I am yet, even after all these years. All I can focus on is that the man who made me is gone. He only exists in the memories of those who knew him. For me, his loss is still so jarringly abrupt.
It’s taken Learner five weeks and my repeated requests to call a meeting of the Council to discuss the events surrounding Jules’s death. You’d think five weeks would be enough time for me to find some kind of acceptance of the fact that he had passed. He hadn’t been actively involved in my life in seventeen years. Here I am, though, still feeling like I’m in shock. I’m like a traumatized child who just lost her only parent. Believe me, I know what that’s like. I’d already been through it twice before Jules decided to make me, so I’m confident I can be fair in making the comparison.
Beneath me, the worn-out bedsprings groan in protest as I sit up and slowly stretch. Even if I hadn’t had some strange woman keeping my dreams more unsettling than usual, my living conditions wouldn’t have let me sleep restfully— not that I can ever sleep for long. While I may have my complaints about it, I’m still the only one with my condition that I’ve ever even heard of who can actually sleep at all. It’s just another curse of the condition, something besides the avoiding sunlight and the blood drinking, to bring on the madness, maybe. Focus on the positive, right?