Buongiorno a tutti! Oggi Blog Tour dedicato a Killer Pursuit, un thriller che mi ha subito attirata per la sua copertina. Mette ansia me ne rendo conto, ma è un po’ lo scopo delle copertine dei thriller. Quindi ci sta un sacco.
Per invogliarvi a leggerlo, vi lascio un estratto. Che ne pensate?
Trovate le tappe del Blog Tour qui e vi ricordiamo che il giveaway termina il 4 febbraio 2016.
Hello everyone! Today’s post is dedicated to Killer Pursuit, a thriller with an amazing cover. I love the colors, the shadow of the man behind the girl, who seems so vulnerable and the darkness underneath. I really really like it. Are you going to read it?
You can find the other tour stops here and we want to remind you that the giveaway to win a $50 Amazon gift card end on February 4th, 2016.
Titolo: Killer Pursuit
Autore: Jeff Gunhus
Disponibile in italiano: No
Allison shouted into her mic. “No, wait!”
As the words came out, one man threw the flash-bang grenade through the window and the other reared back with the ram.
The grenade went off inside, lighting up all the windows on the lower floor, the percussive force loud even from where Allison watched. The other man swung the ram forward with enough force to smash through the decrepit door.
But the second it hit the old wood…
A bomb detonated inside the cabin. All four walls blew out, pulverized by the blast, sending a deadly wave of splintered wood and fire roaring outward.
On reflex, Allison ducked behind the log. Even so, she felt the heat and the pressure from the explosion pour over her. Debris slammed against the log. Bits of shrapnel zinged by her head.
She looked up and saw Garret prone on the ground. She reached out for him, thinking he was hit. He flinched at her touch and glanced up at her. Something had torn a nasty gash through his left cheek, but it wasn’t serious. Behind him, his assistant Doug held his shoulder, moaning. As Garret saw to him, Allison stood and surveyed the carnage.
The building had disintegrated from the force of the blast. Burning debris littered the field. Sharp boards stuck into the soil like arrows. With the smoke hanging in the air she couldn’t see what had happened to the tactical team.
But she heard them. Screaming. Groaning in pain.
The smoke shifted and she saw them, laid out on the ground twenty or thirty feet from the house.
Their black tactical gear smoking.
The screamers writhing on the ground.
Others lying there. Not moving. Bodies twisted into unnatural positions.
“Agents down. Agents down,” she cried out, climbing over the log. As she ran toward the nearest man, she realized she hadn’t toggled her mic. “Agents down,” she yelled. “Need all available medical teams.”
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