Blog Tour and excerpt: Admit to Mayhem by D.J. Adamson
With a contrary attitude and an addiction for independence, Lillian Dove admits she has not been a success in life. In fact, she considers failing as one of her addictions. Yet, when she comes across a suspicious house fire with a history of arson and murder, she instinctively attempts to help someone trapped. Lillian becomes the only possible eyewitness to criminal arson, and her life begins to spiral out of control.
Title: Admit to Mayhem
Author: D.J. Adamson
Publisher: Horatio Press
Pages: 286
Genre: Mystery/Amateur Sleuth
Purchase at AMAZON
Lillian Dove is an endearing “everywoman” struggling with life issues, emotional complexities and a habit of doing just the opposite of what she’s told to do. These qualities in a heroine give the reader an ability to vicariously struggle along with the protagonist in this intriguing Midwest Noir mystery.
Book
Excerpt:
My
name is Lillian Dove. I am a recovering alcoholic, five years sober.
Five
long years, yet the clink of ice in a glass still sets me on edge.
There
is no graduation from alcoholism. Or life, for that matter. I am also
addicted to Pepsi, chocolate, men, being afraid, being afraid of not
being afraid, men—again--and my independence, co-dependence and
unsettling ability to fail no matter my attempt. There are other
compulsions and bad habits, but I can’t think of them right now.
Memory loss, see? And I obsess on how much I forget, if I remember.
Giving up alcohol turned out to be easier than changing some of my
other behaviors.
Especially
my bad judgment when it comes to men. The type of man I’m most
attracted to is like a tall, Tom Collins on a sweltering, summer day:
gin, a little lemon--but not too sour—with sweet syrup and bubbly
soda. It’s hard to resist, even if I know it’s not good for me.
I’ve pledged a Tom-Collins-abstinence.
Yet,
Chief Charles Kaefring began offering me his attention. I thought my
sobriety realigned my sexual magnetism. I was attracting a different
type.
He started coming to my desk to tell me he was leaving and instructed
me to send all his calls to his assistant. At first I couldn’t
figure out why he thought I needed this instruction. I already
transferred his calls as a manner of routine. Then a week after
making sure I was aware of his whereabouts, I bumped into him
lakeside at Louise’s Italian Kitchen.
Louise’s is my
Friday night routine. I celebrate making it through another week.
One spaghetti dinner at a time.
After
that Friday night, I saw him at Louise’s every week. If he got
there before me, I’d see him glancing toward the entry as if
waiting for me to arrive. If I got there first, I’d pretend I never
expected him to show up--which was the truth. Each and every time he
arrived, I was flabbergasted.
I
wasn’t sure what was starting up between the two of us or who
started it. I mean, how could a man like him seriously be interested
in me?
And even after weeks came and went, I still didn’t trust him. At
each dinner he’d ask if I’d like wine with my meal. “Of
course,” I’d say, letting my glass set without drinking it. If he
worried the wine wasn’t good, I’d bring the glass to my lips,
without sipping. I figured if he knew I had a drinking problem, he’d
beat the hell out of there. Eventually though, he stopped asking if I
wanted wine and only ordered one glass instead of two.
Still, he kept showing up.
I
knew I was starting to slip into a situation that could toss my
sobriety into the toilet, but meeting for dinner didn’t seem like
backsliding into emotional drunkenness. Although, it never feels like
slipping until you find yourself in a ragged heap of discontent.
Our
routine altered when on a Sunday afternoon he telephoned giving me a
weather report. He said the day was hot and getting hotter. He said
he was putting a steak on the barbecue, and he just happened to have
two. Are you hungry?
Media
Contact:
Dorothy
Thompson
Pump
Up Your Book
P.O.
Box 643
Chincoteague
Island, Virginia 23336
Email:
thewriterslife@gmail.com
D.
J. Adamson is an award-winning author. Her family roots grow deep in
the Midwest and it is here she sets much of her work. She juggles her
time between her own desk and teaching writing to others at two Los
Angeles area colleges. Along with her husband and two Welsh Terriers,
she makes her home in Southern California.
For
More Information
- Contact D.J..
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