The Home for Halloween Giveaway
Enter the Rafflecopter to win your choice of a Kindle Fire, Nook HD, or Kobo Glo, as well as signed books and audiobooks in the Home for Halloween giveaway from author Scott Nicholson.
The giveaway celebrates the launch of paranormal thriller The Home. Experiments at a group home for troubled children lead to paranormal activity—and the ghosts are from the home’s dark past as an insane asylum. In development as a feature, it’s available in ebook at Amazon US, Amazon UK, BN.com, Kobo, and Smashwords.
EXCERPT: THE HOME By Scott Nicholson (From Chapter 18)
Vicky slipped out of the shadows and crossed the hall. Sneaking out of the Green Room at night was too easy. She loved challenges, and Wendover hadn’t provided many so far, at least when it came to security. Though the back doors were bolted and locked, some of the entrances had to be left accessible in the event of fire. No, they weren’t entrances. Because doors swung both ways. They could also be exits. About once a week she sneaked outside, usually to lie in the grass and look at stars or count blue splotches on the moon. She had never been tempted to go over the wall and make a serious break for freedom, because she could think of no destination that would allow her to escape her own grotesque body. She was so damned fat she should be easy to spot, like a Goodyear blimp in a circus tent. The home had an overnight security guard whose main duties were to quell fights among the boys or to make sure nobody was getting high on smuggled contraband. Watching out for runaways wasn’t in the job description. He was probably watching TV in the rec room, eating greasy burritos and slamming Diet Coke. With a Snickers bar in his pocket for later, all sweet and gooey and peanutty, the kind that would make lumpy brown vomit and scratch your throat as it came back up. He had never caught her even though her footsteps were like an elephant stampede in the halls. Vicky wondered what Freeman would think of her sneaking around. She reached out to read him, or “triptrap” as he called it, but her mind was clouded. The effects of the last treatment had faded. She caught the dim hubbub of distant thoughts, but couldn’t be sure where they came from. Or if she was imagining them. Maybe it was all wishful thinking. Or the babble of angels. Or schizophrenia. She went past Bondurant’s offices. Light showed in the crack beneath the door. The old bastard was probably in there right now, fantasizing about paddling girls. Damned if she’d ever be bent over his desk. She’d feed him his glasses first, or die trying. She heard voices inside the conference room and saw someone outside the door. She ducked back around the corner, then stooped low and waited. The old pipes in the walls thrummed as someone flushed a toilet on the second floor. Vicky leaned forward and peeked, but the hall was empty. Bondurant, Dr. Kracowski, and the ditzy bimbo Swenson had been having a powwow. Vicky moved past the conference room, ducking under the window, her belly tight from being folded. From there, she had an easy jaunt to the front door. Though it was well-lighted, the main entrance was the best place for an escape. The electronic key pad blinked red. They didn’t expect anybody to dare sneak out that way, especially a four-hundred-pound water balloon with legs. She punched in the code, sixty-five star, then pushed open the door, and the sweet night air rushed over her.
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