About Sharon Donovan
Sharon Donovan lives in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania with her family. Prior to the loss of her vision, she was a legal secretary for the Court of Common Pleas where she prepared cases for judges in Domestic Relations. Painting was her passion. When she could no longer paint, she began attending creative writing classes and memoir workshops. After a long and winding road, a new dream arose. Today, instead of painting her pictures on canvas, Sharon paints her pictures with words. Sharon writes stories of inspiration and suspense. She has certificates in business and medical transcription. She is a published author with The Wild Rose Press, White Rose Publishing, Whimsical Publications and Chicken Soup for the Soul. Echo of a Raven received a CTRR award for outstanding writing, and The Claddagh Ring is a 2009 CAPA nominee. To read excerpts and reviews of Sharon’s books and to sign up for her newsletter, visit her website at http://www.sharonadonovan.com/.
About Mask of the Betrayer
When the whispers in the night, the whispers of her lover, are the whispers of a killer, will Margot escape before she becomes the next victim?Deep in the foothills of Red Rock Canyon, a serial killer stalks. He leaves his signature—a skull mask on the corpse. But when the homicide cop realizes the crimes are the reenactment of a case never solved ten years ago–all fingers point to Michael DeVeccio. And when Margot realizes she is married to the killer, her life becomes a living nightmare.
Read the Excerpt!
Reaching Carlos DeVeccio’s bedroom, she got a little thrill as old memories surfaced. Just a few more seconds and she’d fall into the arms of her lover. She smiled to herself. She had returned to Vegas for a reason. She was flat broke. But after tonight, Michael would be her ticket back into the lap of luxury. Then she’d be mistress of the manor once more. And more to the point, she’d have access to his billion dollar bank roll. With a devious smile, she shoved her way through the heavy mahogany door. Crossing the threshold, she entered the house of horrors. Carlos DeVeccio had been a real nut, one straight out of the books. But with her fetish for face masks, she loved his collection and had often come into his wing just to admire them. What a thrill it had been to have sex in the coffin, howling along with the werewolf. Some might think it a bit kinky, but they didn’t know what they were missing. Calling out to her lover, her pulse quickened a beat. “Michael, are you here yet, darling?”
That’s when she heard it, manic laughter coming from the final circle of hell. A slither of fear trickled down her spine, releasing a wild gush of adrenaline. Carlos?
She thought about the death of Lacy Diamond. Two Ninja assassinations were no coincidence. Sensing danger, she felt for her sword. It was gone. Panic soared through her. Where the hell was it? The laughter got louder and louder, moving in closer and closer. It seemed to be bouncing off the walls. She couldn’t tell from which direction it was coming. Just then, the bell in the tower gonged, thundering off the walls like cannon balls. Instinctively, she covered her ears with her hands. Where the hell was Michael? Evil eyes from the face masks followed her every move. She had to escape before it was too late. She couldn’t think over the loud gonging of the bell. Every few seconds, the werewolf howled at the moon. She screamed, although she knew no one would hear her. Disoriented by the darkness, she floundered about, searching for the door. Her arms swam in mid air, like a person drowning, searching for an anchor. She had to find a way out of this mausoleum of the living dead.
Perspiration drenched her skin. The chilling laughter got louder, ringing in her ears, louder and louder, closer and closer. The gonging of the bell broke through the last filament of her sanity. The werewolf opened his mouth and howled at the moon. Where was Michael? He was a master swordsman. His fencing skills were extraordinary. He could wield a Ninja star through the air with his eyes closed and hit the mark. Where the hell was he?
Blood thundered in her ears, but not loud enough to block out the manic laughter. It was close but she couldn’t see a thing. She wished she had her sword. She went to run but it was too late. She heard a distinct click. The killer had just depressed the button on her Zorro sword, unleashing a thirty-seven inch blade. His psychotic laughter reached an ear-splitting crescendo just as the bell in the bell tower gonged out its last chime. From the dark shadows, Valentino pounced, her Zorro sword gleaming in the moonlight.
“Surprise!” he thrust the sword straight through her heart. “I promised to make you scream. Darling Candace, let me hear you scream.”
That’s when she heard it, manic laughter coming from the final circle of hell. A slither of fear trickled down her spine, releasing a wild gush of adrenaline. Carlos?
She thought about the death of Lacy Diamond. Two Ninja assassinations were no coincidence. Sensing danger, she felt for her sword. It was gone. Panic soared through her. Where the hell was it? The laughter got louder and louder, moving in closer and closer. It seemed to be bouncing off the walls. She couldn’t tell from which direction it was coming. Just then, the bell in the tower gonged, thundering off the walls like cannon balls. Instinctively, she covered her ears with her hands. Where the hell was Michael? Evil eyes from the face masks followed her every move. She had to escape before it was too late. She couldn’t think over the loud gonging of the bell. Every few seconds, the werewolf howled at the moon. She screamed, although she knew no one would hear her. Disoriented by the darkness, she floundered about, searching for the door. Her arms swam in mid air, like a person drowning, searching for an anchor. She had to find a way out of this mausoleum of the living dead.
Perspiration drenched her skin. The chilling laughter got louder, ringing in her ears, louder and louder, closer and closer. The gonging of the bell broke through the last filament of her sanity. The werewolf opened his mouth and howled at the moon. Where was Michael? He was a master swordsman. His fencing skills were extraordinary. He could wield a Ninja star through the air with his eyes closed and hit the mark. Where the hell was he?
Blood thundered in her ears, but not loud enough to block out the manic laughter. It was close but she couldn’t see a thing. She wished she had her sword. She went to run but it was too late. She heard a distinct click. The killer had just depressed the button on her Zorro sword, unleashing a thirty-seven inch blade. His psychotic laughter reached an ear-splitting crescendo just as the bell in the bell tower gonged out its last chime. From the dark shadows, Valentino pounced, her Zorro sword gleaming in the moonlight.
“Surprise!” he thrust the sword straight through her heart. “I promised to make you scream. Darling Candace, let me hear you scream.”
Look for my review in the coming weeks.
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