Hey everybody, my name is Kai Strand. I was unpacking books
at a signing and came across a copy of King of Bad with a torn cover. Bummer. I
can’t sell that! But my loss is your gain. Because I can hold a giveaway
instead!
Along with a slightly damaged copy
of King of Bad, I’m also giving away several sets of character trading cards.
These cards have been specially designed for book one in the series. There will
be a separate set of cards designed for each book – so be among the first to
own a set.
About the book:
Jeff Mean would rather set fires than follow rules or
observe curfew. He wears his bad boy image like a favorite old hoodie; that is
until he learns he has superpowers and is recruited by Super Villain Academy –
where you learn to be good at being bad. In a school where one kid can
evaporate all the water from your body and the girl you hang around with can
perform psychic sex in your head, bad takes on a whole new meaning. Jeff
wonders if he’s bad enough for SVA.
He may never find out. Classmates vilify him when he
develops good manners. Then he’s kidnapped by those closest to him and left to
wonder who is good and who is bad. His rescue is the climactic episode that
balances good and evil in the super world. The catalyst – the girl he’s crushing
on. A girlfriend and balancing the Supers is good, right? Or is it…bad?
Available in print or electronic: Whiskey Creek Press, Amazon, Barnes and Noble
Excerpt:
Jeff admired the growth of the flames as they devoured wads
of paper and fast food wrappers in the wire mesh trashcan. He slipped the book
of matches into his pocket and sat back on his heels to admire his work. One
side of the can merely smoldered so he blew gently to fan the guttering flame.
It reminded him of how blowing on Jasmine’s neck the night before had resulted
in a lovely arch of her back. He growled a throaty sigh, remembering Jasmine’s
blissful distraction as he’d nibbled her earlobe.
“ Hey!”
Jeff glanced over his shoulder. A man, who looked like he belonged behind a desk in a downtown high rise, jogged toward him.
“ Ah, the sweet sounds of discipline.” Jeff stood, stuffed his fists in the front pockets of his jeans and shook the long bangs out of his eyes. He half expected the guy’s slick-soled business shoes to slip as he jogged across visitor parking. This was Jeff’s favorite part. Almost getting caught. When the guy was a baseball’s toss away, Jeff turned. He walked a couple steps then skipped up into a jog.
“ Kid, stop!”
Jeff chuckled to himself and said, “Yeah, sure,” and loped across the soccer field.
“ Wait a minute.”
Jeff stole a look over his shoulder. The guy was close even though he didn’t seem to be running very fast. Jeff grinned at him and increased his pace. A seven-foot tall chain link fence ringed in the far side of the field to prevent stray soccer balls from breaking the windows of passing cars on the street below. Jeff leaped onto the fence without slowing down and in two cat-like movements, launched himself over the top. He dropped to the ground, landing on a hill pocked with gopher holes, as easily as if he were jumping around in a bounce house. He smoothly transitioned back into a sprint and dashed across the street, startling a lady driving an SUV.
“ Kid, hold up.”
Jeff almost tripped; the guy was half way across the street already. He smirked, finally a decent chase, but not for long. With little effort, Jeff stepped up to a blurring speed. He dashed up a peaceful street that ran perpendicular to the school, where kids rode bikes and ran through sprinklers. Jeff recognized one of the “good” kids from school, washing a ’57 step-side Chevy.
“ Sweet ride,” Jeff called out. The kid looked up at him, but then snapped his head to the left. That guy cannot be that close! Jeff looked over his shoulder to find the guy was only a house length behind him. Holy crap, Batman. No one ever keeps up with me!
For the first time in a long time, Jeff worried. But only a little. With a deep, fortifying breath he pumped his thigh muscles harder. He whizzed past houses so fast he doubted anyone would be able to describe him if they were asked to later. Tears streamed sideways from the force of the wind his speed created. He’d only started to breathe a bit more heavily than normal. Jeff was built to run.
“ Kid, hold on just a second.”
Jeff stumbled, but regained his footing again before becoming road rash. The guy sounded as if he was only a bus length away. How can that be? No one runs as fast as I do. Jeff’s lungs constricted. An alien emotion, panic, budded in his chest. Stay focused. Controlled, deep breaths allowed calming oxygen into his lungs and up to his brain and Jeff’s airways opened fully again.
Real speed required concentration. Jeff concentrated on his thigh muscles. Usually he only bothered to think about the front muscles in order to ignite his unusual speed, but this time he thought about the sinewy, sleek muscles that wrapped gracefully around the larger front muscles. He envisioned how the smaller muscles provided strength and support to the larger working muscle. He pictured that strength extending into his gluteus maximus to sustain a strong stride. The resulting speed was completely inhuman.
Reviews:
“ Hey!”
Jeff glanced over his shoulder. A man, who looked like he belonged behind a desk in a downtown high rise, jogged toward him.
“ Ah, the sweet sounds of discipline.” Jeff stood, stuffed his fists in the front pockets of his jeans and shook the long bangs out of his eyes. He half expected the guy’s slick-soled business shoes to slip as he jogged across visitor parking. This was Jeff’s favorite part. Almost getting caught. When the guy was a baseball’s toss away, Jeff turned. He walked a couple steps then skipped up into a jog.
“ Kid, stop!”
Jeff chuckled to himself and said, “Yeah, sure,” and loped across the soccer field.
“ Wait a minute.”
Jeff stole a look over his shoulder. The guy was close even though he didn’t seem to be running very fast. Jeff grinned at him and increased his pace. A seven-foot tall chain link fence ringed in the far side of the field to prevent stray soccer balls from breaking the windows of passing cars on the street below. Jeff leaped onto the fence without slowing down and in two cat-like movements, launched himself over the top. He dropped to the ground, landing on a hill pocked with gopher holes, as easily as if he were jumping around in a bounce house. He smoothly transitioned back into a sprint and dashed across the street, startling a lady driving an SUV.
“ Kid, hold up.”
Jeff almost tripped; the guy was half way across the street already. He smirked, finally a decent chase, but not for long. With little effort, Jeff stepped up to a blurring speed. He dashed up a peaceful street that ran perpendicular to the school, where kids rode bikes and ran through sprinklers. Jeff recognized one of the “good” kids from school, washing a ’57 step-side Chevy.
“ Sweet ride,” Jeff called out. The kid looked up at him, but then snapped his head to the left. That guy cannot be that close! Jeff looked over his shoulder to find the guy was only a house length behind him. Holy crap, Batman. No one ever keeps up with me!
For the first time in a long time, Jeff worried. But only a little. With a deep, fortifying breath he pumped his thigh muscles harder. He whizzed past houses so fast he doubted anyone would be able to describe him if they were asked to later. Tears streamed sideways from the force of the wind his speed created. He’d only started to breathe a bit more heavily than normal. Jeff was built to run.
“ Kid, hold on just a second.”
Jeff stumbled, but regained his footing again before becoming road rash. The guy sounded as if he was only a bus length away. How can that be? No one runs as fast as I do. Jeff’s lungs constricted. An alien emotion, panic, budded in his chest. Stay focused. Controlled, deep breaths allowed calming oxygen into his lungs and up to his brain and Jeff’s airways opened fully again.
Real speed required concentration. Jeff concentrated on his thigh muscles. Usually he only bothered to think about the front muscles in order to ignite his unusual speed, but this time he thought about the sinewy, sleek muscles that wrapped gracefully around the larger front muscles. He envisioned how the smaller muscles provided strength and support to the larger working muscle. He pictured that strength extending into his gluteus maximus to sustain a strong stride. The resulting speed was completely inhuman.
Reviews:
I loved the world building! It made me
wish I was part of it. Strand does a fantastic job of making the world of King
of Bad seem like it's a real thing. -Heather
Kind of Bad sucks you
in from the first page and doesn't let you go. I couldn't put it down! –Amazon Review
About the author:
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Thanks for hosting the giveaway on your blog, Trisha!
ReplyDeleteAnytime, Kai
ReplyDelete