Tuesday, February 11, 2014

Free to Die By Bob McElwain His First Book Published Now Free... In Memory...

“I grew up and trotted off to war with the idea our government was the finest possible. It’s different now. I know it’s the best on this planet, but it’s a crock. We’re being used and abused by a bunch of powerful greedy bastards.” His gray eyes were flat with disgust. “
And our highly touted legal system? It flat-ass terrifies me. Walden had to wake that judge up twice in twenty minutes. Hell. I don’t mean any more to him than dust on a window sill.” Abruptly he resumed pacing.

“Even one night in a cell.” He shuddered.
 “Ever been in jail?” She shook her head. He looked away, out the dirty window. He was gone to a place far away, to an ever-present past. 

“They dropped me into a hole, then covered it over. There was no light, no sound, except from an occasional drop of water seeping through the ground above me.
 “I counted five hundred and twenty-three drops before I lost count the first time.” 
When he turned toward her, his face was pale. “I’ve never believed it was only a month. 
I just don’t know if I can do it. The night I spent when they arrested me seemed like years.” 
“You’re stronger now.” 


Free to Die
By Bob McElwain

I had picked up this book free back in 2011, but because of my need to get a better handle on requests, and putting first priority to printed books, I didn't get back to this until recently. When I began to read, and realized I had a bad copy, I went back to Amazon, knowing I was already hooked and that I would pay for it to make sure I could finish it! It was still listed for free... which confused me because I don't think authors should give their books away on a long-term basis...

So I started looking for more about the author... and was so sad to see on the publisher page...

In Memoriam

Bob founded Foremost Press in 2002. What a gifted writer he was. Even though we never met face-to-face, I felt I had known him my whole life. He was my mentor and such a true friend. I miss him. I will never forget him. He was truly one of a kind.           - - - Mary Holzrichter

Having just lost my good friend and author, Robert Noonan, I realize how much we have gained from the writers in this world, who have used their creativity to share with all of us, even in their later years... So, this is probably the one and only book I will read from Bob McElwain, even though there are others he has written. I noted that he had tried to get this book published, but when rejected over and over, he self-published. To me, it's a perfect example of how self-publishing will allow more gems like this one to be created for our enjoyment. I loved this book and wish he could have still been around so that all of his books would have caught on, with his knowledge... I don't know how long his books will continue to be sold, so I highly recommend you go out an get a copy of this one at least... You won't regret it, in my opinion...

The tall woman was leaning against the trunk
 of the nearly dead elm, holding her purse
 in both hands. Dangling rhinestone earrings
 accented her long neck. He decided the odd bulge
 in her purse was a pistol. “Amanda sent me,”
 she said evenly in a low-pitched contralto.
 “I’m Josie Botsworth.” “Why would Tom Fairchild
 interest either of you?” So far as he could tell,
 none of his tension showed in his easy,
soft bass. She shook her head.
 “You’re Brad Ashton and
you’re wanted for murder.”
We meet Brad as he's coming to a friend's service station. Jake is being held up and tortured for even more money. All Brad could find was a wrench. It was enough...

He made sure help was on the way, that Jake would make it, and then left, heading for a shower to get the grease and blood from his body before he left town...

He slipped into clean clothes, his best shirt and

 slacks and laid his sport coat on the bed. 
He dusted off his black dress loafers with a towel,
 then tightly rolled what little remained and packed
 it into the carry-all bag. He wrapped the boots in
 a towel and slipped them inside. The Colt .45 auto-load
 was the last item tucked inside. His plan was simple. 
He was known in Vegas as a poker player
 who won more often than not. He’d play long enough
 to hitch a ride out of town with someone leaving. 
The police would not be looking for him in the casinos.
 He stepped once again into the bathroom, 
reached under the toilet tank, and stripped the
 heavy tape loose, freeing the money belt. Tightened
 around his waist,
 the belt was hidden by the drape of his shirt.
 As he slipped into his coat and reached for his bag,
 he saw the first hint of dawn through the dirty,
 dusty window.
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