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Here is the book blurb for Netted: The Beginning, book one of The Silent Red Room Saga.
Welcome to The Silent Red Room, where your
imagination is only a Bitcoin away.
When Dale uses a dating app to get over his ex, he connects with Marla, a beautiful eccentric. All is well and good…until they meet in person.
Meanwhile, Jessica, a troubled teen, takes to surfing the darknet to fulfill her ever-growing curiosity. Within its labyrinthine vastness, she discovers Father Paul, a sinister figure who uses creative methods of torture to please his rich audience. Her dreams of meeting her hero soon come true, but not in the way she hoped.
Will Dale and Jessica survive when they’re pulled into the cyber mass known as the darknet? Or are they already lost to The Silent Red Room, a horrific place amongst the darknet's web of horrors?
The Silent Red Room, making the underbelly of the internet a better place, one missing person at a time.
When Dale uses a dating app to get over his ex, he connects with Marla, a beautiful eccentric. All is well and good…until they meet in person.
Meanwhile, Jessica, a troubled teen, takes to surfing the darknet to fulfill her ever-growing curiosity. Within its labyrinthine vastness, she discovers Father Paul, a sinister figure who uses creative methods of torture to please his rich audience. Her dreams of meeting her hero soon come true, but not in the way she hoped.
Will Dale and Jessica survive when they’re pulled into the cyber mass known as the darknet? Or are they already lost to The Silent Red Room, a horrific place amongst the darknet's web of horrors?
The Silent Red Room, making the underbelly of the internet a better place, one missing person at a time.
Release Date: February 22, 2019
Genre: Techno-thriller, Horror
Wow! Sounds like an intriguing read here!
Purchase Links:
Universal Reader link: https://books2read.com/u/m0MBWY
Universal Amazon link: http://mybook.to/Netted
Here is an an excerpt...
“Well,
don’t you look rough,” Dale grumbled to himself as he ran his left hand along
his jawline. His tanned reflection smiled back at him in the sun visor mirror.
He slid his peacoat off his shoulders and unbuttoned his
collar.
“Shit,” he muttered. The last thing he wanted was yellow pit
stains on his best polo. That I just left
the gym excuse wouldn’t hold up. He’d given up on that years ago when he
realized he couldn’t hold muscle for shit. He’d spend hours lifting weights,
galloping on the treadmill and eating nothing but red meat, milk and eggs only
for his body rip the protein to bits, leaving him slender. Dale rolled the
window down and grimaced as the evening’s frosty gusts brushed against his
face.
A cold sweat broke out across his forehead. Dale ran the
back of his hand over it, then huffed. As
if this fleshy pink slash over my right eye helps, he thought. He didn’t expect it would disappear
with the stitches just being removed a couple days ago. He remembered vividly
how Dr. Martinez glared accusingly at him, his head tilted, eyes peering at him
over purple frames.
“Still a little too short to be playing hockey, don’t you
think?” Dr. Martinez asked.
Dale had snickered then, and told the doctor that he would
wait for the bill in the mail. Hospital bills were like any other bill:
expected and unavoidable. But that was the cost of playing physical sports
every season.
Dale bound his fingers and flicked at his hair, raking it
over the laceration above his brow. He scoffed. One minute, blades sliced up
the ice as everyone raced over to Dale. The match had been neck-and-neck with
the Big Rapids Badgers. Had Dale missed the puck, the Badgers would've tied.
But he didn’t and his team, the Grand Rapids Grenades, had taken the victory by
one. The team leaped and shouted as they raised him up high. He punched the
air, rooted, and laughed. The dome boomed, full of their excited voices. Then,
in the midst of all the celebrating, Jerry hurled his ice skate over the
huddle, and it landed blade first into Dale’s face. He relived the aftermath
whenever he laid down for the night; a dull flash right before a numbing
darkness eased him into a deep sleep.
Some guys just don’t know how to
lose with dignity, Dale thought
He flipped the visor into the
ceiling, then glared up the block. The street could’ve been hosting a tacky
light show with all the bling and glitz from the Christmas lights and décor
that hung from most roof trims and awnings. For the most part, the houses
appeared nearly identical under the street lights: all brick and varying shades
of brown, single floored, with cars and SUVs sitting in most driveways. Iced
over yards gleamed as much as the roads; the same roads Dale’s tires grumbled
and slid across the entire ride in. Lake-effect ruled the weather in Western
Michigan. Blizzards, high winds, and sometimes ice storms were normal for early
December. It was a way of life here: a promise kept by nature every November
through April. Ask anyone out on the lakefront and they'd confirm that frozen
cheeks and numb fingertips were more welcome than a dog-swooping hurricane or a
house fileting wildfire any day.
He rested his eyes on the residence opposite the curb. The
empty driveway led up to a dark house. A thick shadow hung over, protecting it
from the holiday cheer that consumed most of its neighbors.
His heartbeat quickened. What
if she forgot? What if she’s not there? What if she’s… ugly?
He smirked.
Marla was in there. He was certain she was. Maybe she was lying down. Naked. It’d be a
replica of the pictures in his phone’s photo gallery: her lavender eyes low
while she rubbed herself.
Dale’s palms went clammy. Meeting a girl this way wasn’t
unheard of. Going Out. An app that
got people laid. It was as grotesque as getting a prostitute. The only
difference was that this way was free.
But who picks up girls at bars
anymore?
He grunted.
***
“Your Big Thirty will be so much fun,” Diane said over
Monday coffee at Jinx’s Café. “Five more months and we’re in Vegas.”
Dale twirled his spoon, sprinkling the tabletop with
remnants of cocoa. Diane snatched napkins from the dispenser and wiped up the
spill.
“Aren’t you excited?” she asked with a wide smile.
He half grinned and nodded, then winced. The pale sun burst
through every bay window, painting the diner yellow.
“Good!” she said. “You’re still bringing a date, right?”
“A date?” he asked, perplexed.
“Yeah. I got me one.” She rocked her hips side-to-side in
the booth across from him.
“Who? Your husband you want to divorce?” Dale asked.
“Oh, shut up. Me and Lance are doing good.” Diane stopped
dancing.
“Does he know that?”
“Does he know what?”
“Anything? Does he know anything?”
Amusement crossed her face. She buried her smile in her pale
cashmere sleeve. Her burst of laughter sounded like a smoker holding back a
cough.
“Come on, Brother. I’m serious,” she said, climbing down
from her high.
“No. No date.”
“Why not?” Diane’s almond eyes frowned.
Dale scrunched his face. “They couldn’t get us a table with
blinds?”
“Don’t change the subject,” Diane said, fussing with her
silver bangles. “You need to move on.”
“I’m fine, Sis,” he said smoothly.
“No, you’re not,” Diane mimicked.
“How?”
“Because all you talk about is Sasha. It’s like you have no
interest in the world around you. Your face is always in your phone.” She
cupped her mug with both hands and brought it to her lips. Then, with
discerning eyes, said, “She’s not coming back, ya know.”
His stomach turned.
Sasha. Damn Facebook had a way of putting her at the top of
his feed. Her plump lips or thin arms all over some pale asshole.
A lucky asshole.
“It’s been six months,” Diane pointed out. “Get a new girl.”
“And why does it bother you that I’m not ready?”
“Because you’re not waiting on someone else to come along.
You’re waiting on something old to come back. It’s not happening. Move on. Now
I’ve been patient…but this has to stop.”
Dale cringed. He never had to say a word around Diane. She
always knew. Some of Sasha’s amateur paintings still hung on his bedroom wall.
Her toothbrush sat in the Superman
mug by the bathroom sink. Her number was still saved under ‘babe’. Whenever the
thing sounded, he’d look with eager eyes. One day, it’d be her calling.
Tough titty, he thought as he pushed his full mug against the glass salt
and pepper shakers in the middle of the table. The smell of chocolate steam had
become unbearable.
Diane sighed and combed her crinkled dark hair with clutched
fingers. “I mean, look at you, Dale. For starters, Calvin’s back.”
Dale stroked his hairy chin. Calvin’s tail had reached his
chest. “Oh, you don’t like Calvin anymore?” He grinned.
“You look like a modish hippie.”
Dale wiped the back of a hand across his dampening forehead.
Then, he tugged at his leather cuffs, freeing his arms. “Calvin’s done nothing
to deserve such an unwelcome attitude.”
“Don’t bullshit me. The last time Calvin visited was two
years ago and then eight years before that.” She dropped her glare to her
coffee. “When Mom and Dad died.”
“Nobody died if that’s what you’re worried about,” he said.
“I know.” She looked at him pleadingly. “That’s the problem.
I think this break up is killing you.”
“Diane, I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
“How come?” he said. Why
can’t she let this go?
“Because you’re only fine when people die.”
He cocked his head. “No, I’m not,” he argued.
Diane rolled her eyes. “There was that night the cops showed
up to the house. Remember? We were fighting over the PlayStation controller
while we waited for that slow ass pizza guy. Anyway, when they broke the news,
I crumbled to my knees and you stood there, wordless. You just stared. When you
spoke a couple days later, it was only to console me. I’d always ask if you’re
okay and you’d say, ‘I’m fine’. You did the same thing when Nana stopped
breathing after the heart transplant not even a couple of years ago.” She
twisted her wedding ring. “You’re not fine when you say you’re fine.”
Dale snickered and pulled his coat over his shoulders. An
older couple shuffled through the door, letting in a crisp wind. The man
wrapped his arm around the woman’s waist as they used his copper cane to
balance their steps. Dale wondered if that’d be him with the next love of his
life one day. Or would he die alone?
Wonder what happens next, hmm?
Get your copy of this technothriller/horror novella today, readers! Just 99 cents or free on Kindle Unlimited!
About the Author:
K. T. Rose is a horror, thriller, and dark fiction writer
from Detroit, Michigan. She posts suspense and horror flash fiction on her blog
at kyrobooks.com and is the author of a gruesome, suspenseful short story
series titled A Trinity of Wicked Tales and an erotic thriller novel titled When We Swing--An Erotic Thriller.
Author Links:
Website/Blog: https://kyrobooks.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/kyrobooks/
Twitter: http://twitter.com/kyrobooks
Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/K.-T.-Rose/e/B01N4T91M2/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6480089.K_T_Rose
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/kyrobooks/
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/kyrobooks/
K.T.'s Books:
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