Greetings! Today I'd like to offer a glimpse into my upcoming project, 'Siren's Smile', the prequel to my debut thriller, 'The Scream of the Siren'.
This exciting thriller loaded with both passion and action delves into Alejandro's Salvadorian history, his childhood during the country's civil war, his relationship with his family including his father Jared Whitmore, the retired U.S. Special Forces veteran turned drug lord, and his estranged mother, Ana Santiago, a member of the Liberation Front and a fierce guerrilla fighter. It also chronicles his twisted love affair with a woman so captivating and even sadistic that she becomes the architect of the love-mad Alejandro's ultimate downfall.
Below is a very brief excerpt.
Alejandro glanced briefly at the girl who had come in. She looked to be about twenty and of mixed ethnicity. Her short, choppy hair was dyed pink, and she was wearing knee high boots, a plaid skirt, and a white cutoff shirt with safety pins down the center. She had a big black bag draped over her shoulder with a white skull head sewn on the cover. She slipped into a desk diagonal from Alejandro, pulling out a pen and paper from her bag, the studded bracelets on her wrists gleaming. She glanced back at him, her eyes moving over the drawing on his desk. Her skin was a deep bronze reminiscent of acacia wood and her startling eyes were exotic, hazel-green, the way sunlight looks when it reflects into a troubled, churning sea.
She smiled in amusement at his drawing.
He held her gaze, surprised by the feeling inside of him. He was no stranger to beautiful women; in fact, he was used to being with his father around women wearing less and with much more class on private Florida beaches. But there was something unusual about the girl, something beyond her punk gear and striking looks that excited him. She possessed a bewitching magnetism and yet there was something familiar about her, something natural and laidback at the same time. He couldn’t stop staring at her, even after an ugly look from the instructor forced her gold-flecked, olive gaze away from him.
He chewed the eraser on his pencil and tried to concentrate on his drawing, but he was agonizingly aware of her every movement. In agitation, he bit the eraser completely off, the metal tip cutting into his gums. Bleeding, he stared at the image on his paper and swallowed blood. The scrawling of the skeletal woman he had drawn made him suddenly uneasy—as if any moment the bones might materialize in front of him, the horrible skull-face with its pleading eyes turning to him in supplication.
It was the blood.
He shut his eyes, pressing his fists hard against his temples in an attempt to keep the old noise from intensifying and joining the ghosts and ghastly memories in his mind. In that moment, he desperately needed to crowd out the past with something—anything.
Then the young woman moved, and he opened his eyes. Everything—the noise, the faces, the blood, the whole world—it all fractured into meaningless splinters as his gaze fell back onto her. She was the only thing…