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The Darkest Loop – Release Blitz

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Historical Fiction
Date Published: 9/4/2017
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Dallas Anderson is stuck in a time loop that repeats Labor Day 2001 to September 11, 2001. He thinks he must prevent the terrorist attacks to break the loop. But each loop challenges that theory, igniting a fiery romance between him and his best friend’s sister and exposing the dark truth behind Déjà vu.
 
Excerpt

 

Someone somewhere was giving me a gang of second chances. Who knew when their generosity was going to run out?
So I staked out in the side parking lot of Family Medicine. I backed my Camry into a spot near some bushes so I wouldn’t be seen. But by the time I arrived there at 7:00 in the morning, there was no one to be seeing me anyway.
There I was, sitting in the driver seat like an old flatfoot. Slumped in my seat. A baseball cap pulled over my head. The tint on my windows provided an excellent cover. I spent the entire early morning thinking about the why of the loop. The why haunted me. Eluded me. It had nothing to do with saving Kevin. I knew that now. I knew exactly why I was stuck in a time loop. My mission. But the mission was daunting—much too daunting for one man to tackle. I needed a partner. Thena was the first person who came to mind. It was like a little voice in my head telling me that we were somehow irrevocably linked in some cosmic and spiritual way. In the kind of way that would cause her to believe me when I told her that I was in this loop. The kind of blind faith that would have her help me in perhaps doing what I was chosen to do. But I had to save Kevin. And I couldn’t get hurt in the process. I would sure need my ankle later.
It was nearly noon when I saw Thena walk by and I cursed. Why was she still here? Wasn’t she still mad at Kevin?
Now, I knew that the incident with the van wouldn’t take place for another fifteen minutes or so. So I had to act fast.
I pushed through the lobby doors in my trench coat and ball cap and said, “I knew you were going to let me down!”
“Dallas,” she turned left, right, then back to me. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ve told you: I’ve been here before.”
“Here?”
I looked around the lobby. “No…not here. But out there.” I pointed out the dark glass window. “Definitely out there.” Mind you, I was wearing a trench coat in the beginning of September, along with a hat pulled tightly over my eyes. I hadn’t taken stock in the craziness of my outfit. My next statement would sound to Thena as crazy as the outfit I was wearing.
“I’m stuck in a time loop. That’s how I know about Bryant Green—but all I know about him is that you were engaged long ago. That’s not important. I only brought him up because it’s a fact that I know that I could not have known unless I saw you talking to him, and of course your mother told me that you were engaged.”
“Kevin could’ve told you all of that. You know what? You need to leave.”
“Kevin’s coming soon. He’s going to start into that intersection and get demolished unless I save him.”
“I’m calling security.”
“Yesterday, you were wearing light pink toe-nail polish with glitter.” She narrowed her eyes. “Now how would I know that unless you took off your shoes? You didn’t yesterday. Not that yesterday. But on a previous yesterday, you did.”
Thena was motioning to the representative behind the reception counter. “Excuse me! Sir? Would you please call Public Safety?”
“Oh my goodness.” I shot up from my chair. “Kevin’s coming.”
I dashed out, knowing in my heart each step was the sealing of my fate. Sweat pooled at the base of my neck to match the moistness on my forehead. I tossed the hat to the ground. Why? No clue. Maybe I thought in the seconds between my lunging from the glass doors to the sidewalk my hat would slow me down. But that was stupid. The hat—if I still had it—would cushion the blow as my head hit the ground—again. Of course I didn’t feel much pain on my first go round (if that was the first go round of me attempting to save Kevin). But the pain afterwards? The mind gnawing migraines. My ankle feeling like someone had stabbed through it all the way to the bone. And that same someone had the unmitigated gall to leave that knife there. That rusty knife. In the next microsecond it dawned on me: what if I didn’t just get nicked this time? What if that minivan plowed right through me? Or what if I was unsuccessful in pushing Kevin out of the way of the van this time? It was sheer luck that aided me the last time. That stunt man stuff you see in the movies is not as reproducible as you think in the real world. Could I do it twice?

 

James Fant is an award winning author who lives in Charleston, SC with his lovely wife and two hilarious children. He received a degree in biology from College of Charleston and a master’s in business administration from Charleston Southern University. His love for literature was forged by the works of Eric Jerome Dickey, Walter Mosely, and Stephen King. He also finds inspiration from screenwriters Shonda Rhimes, Aaron Sorkin and Kurt Sutter. Literarily, James has always been drawn to intelligent yet imperfect characters and he writes novels with them in mind.
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THE DARKEST LOOP – Release Blitz

NEW BOOK RELEASE
from award-winning author James Fant
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THE DARKEST LOOP
James Fant
The Darkest Loop
Genre: Historical Fiction, Romantic Suspense
Publisher: James Fant Books, LLC
Publication Date: September 4, 2017
The loop made them fall in love. Will it also make them heroes?
Dallas Anderson is stuck in a time loop that repeats Labor Day 2001 to September 11, 2001. He thinks he must prevent the terrorist attacks to break the loop. But each loop challenges that theory, igniting a fiery romance between him and his best friend’s sister and exposing the dark truth behind Déjà vu.

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Available now for $2.99 only. Grab your copy today.

An Excerpt from the Book

Take an inside look at The Darkest Loop. Read this sizzling excerpt from the book.
It was the fourth September 10th, 2001 we had spent in New York City. And each of those Mondays discouraged us even more. Hanging around the World Trade Center for a month (real time) got us no closer to the unfettered access we needed. The possibility of being stuck in this ruthless rut forever was starting to weigh heavily on my soul.
“What’s wrong?” Thena asked.
We were standing on the Observation Deck of the South Tower and I hadn’t said a word since we got there. And now, I was looking over the edge of the railing like I might just jump over it. Wouldn’t do me any good, though, considering there was a jumper’s net not far below. And even if there wasn’t, a fall from 110 stories wouldn’t do me any harm. I’d hit the ground then wake up on September 3rd, 2001 remembering absolutely nothing.
“What’s wrong,” she asked again. “Is it the dream?”
“Look, it wasn’t a wet one if that’s what you’re thinking. It was actually more like a nightmare.”
“But one in which you kept screaming out Zoe’s name.”
In my dream, my mother was attacking my father and his girlfriends. A bloody foursome of sorts. Only it was just my mother’s body. But the head belonged to my ex-girlfriend, Zoe. She had a crazed look in her eyes. I watched as she stabbed my father over and over again. And then, as he lay there in a pool of his own blood, she took a Phillips head screwdriver and slowly, sinfully twisted it right-left-right, into my father’s temple. He screamed but the screams were my voice. Begging for Zoe to stop.
“The dream was nothing,” I said. “And everything is cool.” The lie was better than the truth. The truth is I was coming unglued. Destabilized by this loop which faithfully kept twirling us round and round. I was a moon trapped in its orbit. And its gravity was slowly tearing me apart.

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About James Fant

James Fant is an award winning author who lives in Charleston, SC with his lovely wife and two hilarious children. He received a degree in biology from College of Charleston and a master’s in business administration from Charleston Southern University. His love for literature was forged by the works of Eric Jerome Dickey, Walter Mosely, and Stephen King. He also finds inspiration from screenwriters Shonda Rhimes, Aaron Sorkin and Kurt Sutter. Literarily, James has always been drawn to intelligent yet imperfect characters and he writes novels with them in mind.
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HEART OF STONE – RELEASE BLITZ

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Crime Fiction
Date Published: 7/4/2017
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Are the deacons of Shalom Bethel invincible? Legend has it that in the 1940’s, they came out of a gunfight with holes in their clothes but not their skin. Bullets bounced off of them. They walked through buckshots like water. That story is passed down by every deacon. The legend of Stephen Stone. That legend is about to be tested.
On the heels of a nightclub triple murder, a mysterious blizzard hits Shalom, a city normally warm year round. The blizzard brings with it bitter memories and ghosts Deacon Oak East thought were long gone: his prior drug conviction, his on and off relationship with his wife, the gruesome murder of his father and the role he played in it. But it’s not just the past that haunts him. In the present, a homicide detective wants him and the deacons for the nightclub murders. And a gangster named Cap Morgan wants revenge. The snow is falling. But soon, it will be raining bullets. Is the legend true? Are the deacons of Shalom Bethel bulletproof?
Excerpt
The early evening air cooled Oak’s skin and caused it to tighten. The sensation was odd, like someone pinching him but all over. Bringing his skin cells closer together? The thought was crazy and Oak traveled back to a biology class in which the teacher was showing a video on mitosis. Cells were dividing, giving rise to two daughter cells with the same number of chromosomes. There were different phases. One in particular where the chromatin seemed to span the two fused cellular bodies. So cool. That’s not what was happening with Oak’s skin. It was tightening…stiffening. And how would that look under a microscope?
He shook those thoughts, jogged up to the duplex and slapped the knocker three times. The door opened and he saw Moody Norco. The man who hated his guts.
“Come on in,” Moody said. “You want something to drink?”
“Nah, I’m working. What’s up?”
“Nothing much. Getting over a cold.”
“No. I mean what’s up?”
“You mean the money?”
“I always mean the money when I ask that question.”
Moody was devious and dangerous. Instead of repelling Oak, this fact attracted him. Pulled him to the man like gravity. An invisible yet powerful force that he couldn’t escape.
He carried the weight of the world into Moody’s apartment that evening. His uncle had kicked him out the house. He had lost the women he loved. And then there was that nagging guilt, the thought that God would never forgive him for what he had done eight years before. Life had burdened him. Perhaps this devious dude was just dangerous enough to remove that burden.
Oak snapped his fingers in Moody’s face. “Come on, man, I don’t have all day.”
“I’m going to warn you right now,” Moody said, “it’s been slow.” He motioned to a half-naked woman who scampered into the back room.
“I don’t care how slow it’s been. You’re delinquent yet again. Frankly, I’m fed up with it.”
Moody’s eyes narrowed.  He tightened his fist but nothing more.
“Tell your girl to hurry up with the money,” Oak said.
“C’mon. Let me fix you some Cognac. I know you like that Yack! With Coke, right?”
“Man, you’re trying my patience!” Oak pushed Moody out of the way and stomped into the bedroom, where he figured the woman was counting the money. But there was no woman. Instead, there was an open window, curtains dancing in the breeze and two guys holding sawed off shot guns that were aimed at Oak’s chest.
“You sure you don’t want something to drink?” Moody asked again with a smile as he brandished a silver Saturday Night Special.
“Truth be told,” he said, his pistol pointed at Oak, “I hate you! Why did you all of a sudden get to be boss of the streets? You haven’t put in work. You haven’t done dirt. And what’s worse, if war comes, you’d never be man enough to squeeze a trigger. You’re not a boss!” Moody and his two gunmen backed Oak into the living room. He asked, “You’re not gonna beg for your life?”
“Not at all,” Oak replied.
“Well, I gotta say I’m disappointed.”
Oak shrugged. Sighed. “Well I’ve seen too much evil. Been the cause of too much pain. Being murdered like this is a fitting end.”
“You’re not gonna cry or try to make a deal?”
“Nah. If you’re gonna shoot me, get it over with already.”
Moody chuckled. Smiled. Then his lips straitened. “This wasn’t what I imagined would happen. In my mind, I saw you sniveling, snot dripping over your lips as you begged for your life. Forget about the money. Just don’t kill me, Moody! I would demand that you call me the king. You are the king!  Then, I’d make you get down on your knees, your hands folded in prayer and praise. But…”
Oak jumped at Moody like he was going to throw a punch. Moody flinched. His boys flinched too.
“Unbelievable,” Oak laughed. Then he screamed, “Do it!”
Shot guns lifted. Forestocks pumped. Snub nose hammer pulled back. An engine roared and the hood of a SUV came crashing through sheetrock and plaster. It was Sampson, Oak’s bodyguard. Crashing through the wall. Shooting through the windshield.
Shots blazed from every direction. Glass shattered. Sampson took one in his shoulder but served several to Moody and his boys. As they hit the floor, Sampson yelled, “Lay down and stay down!”
“O!” he screamed as he grunted his way towards him. “O.E.!”
“What?!”
“Are you wearing a vest?”
“Huh?”
He patted Oak’s chest and back. “Oh my goodness!” he said. “You’re not wearing a vest!”
Oak looked at Sampson and saw that he was bleeding heavily. He took off his shirt and pressed it against his wounded shoulder. He said, “We gotta get you outta here.” Then he helped Sampson to the passenger side of the SUV, got in the driver’s seat, and slowly backed the out of the rubble.
As he drove to Shalom Memorial Hospital, images of the shootout replayed in his head. The ear splitting pops and mind numbing explosions. He racked his brain for a reason why he was still breathing.
He said, “I’m sorry, Sampson.  I should have been the one to get shot back there.”
“You did get shot.”
“What?”
His bodyguard took a deep breath. Winced in pain. “They lit you up, man. You were getting popped left and right.”
“Sampson,” Oak smiled warily, “were you smoking dope while I was in the apartment?”
“I’m serious!” Sampson screamed. “Bullets just bounced off of you. At first I thought it was the adrenaline playing tricks on my mind. But nah. You were just walking through those bullets. I know what I saw.” 

About the Author

James Fant is an award winning author who lives in Charleston, SC with his lovely wife and two hilarious children. He received a degree in biology from College of Charleston and a master’s in business administration from Charleston Southern University. His love for literature was forged by the works of Eric Jerome Dickey, Walter Mosley, and Stephen King. He also finds inspiration from screenwriters Shonda Rhimes, Aaron Sorkin and Kurt Sutter. Literarily, James has always been drawn to intelligent yet imperfect characters and he writes novels with them in mind.
Contact Links
Twitter: @jamesfantjr
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AN ODE FOR ORCHIDS – VIRTUAL BOOK TOUR

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Romance

Date Published: August 30, 2012

 

Meet Dawn, Brook, Cicely and Karen: four cousins raised under the Southern sun. Their grandmother called them orchids and taught them to be independent, intelligent, chaste and courageous. So why does Dawn depend on a drug dealer? Why can’t Brook see that her husband is cheating on her? Why is Cicely so promiscuous? Why is Karen so afraid of rejection? But most importantly, why does Cicely hate Karen enough to want her DEAD?

“An Ode for Orchids” is the story of four beautiful young women who want to love and be loved. But will their love outlive the lies and abuse? Is their love strong enough to survive the hatred?

anodefororchids

 

Excerpt from AN ODE FOR ORCHIDS by JAMES FANT

As the sun started easing below the horizon, Maxwell and Tamara decided to take a walk down the beach, leaving Karen and William alone.

“William, I expect you to be on your best behavior while we’re gone,” Tamara said with a wink.

“I’ll be a perfect gentleman,” he replied.

As soon as they left, William asked Karen, “Do you want to go upstairs to my place?”

She tilted her head to the side and smiled. “I thought you said you were going to be a perfect gentleman.”

“Oh and I will.”

Karen thought about it for a few seconds and then she replied, “Okay, sure.”

As they walked up the steps to his apartment, William spied Karen’s backside. He really liked what he saw. Her beautiful face, her stunning body. But he had to admit that there was something else there, way beyond things physical. Maxwell told him to ignore it. But it was still there.

“This is my place,” William said as he opened the door for Karen.

“Okay, okay, I hear you. This is really nice.” She marveled at his décor. “I love the open space. Your place isn’t like Maxwell’s at all.”

“No. The previous owners of this unit made some serious upgrades.”

She admired the African statuettes as well as the life size mahogany framed poster of John Coltrane.

“What do you know about Giant Steps?” She rubbed her fingers over the elegant frame and looked at the late great tenor sax man in his element.

“Aw, that’s my favorite jazz record right there.”

“This portrait is autographed,” Karen noticed.

“Yes. My dad got that when he and my mom were overseas visiting some friends. My parents travelled a lot. They have college friends all over the place: Peru, Europe, Japan, all over the U.S. Sometimes they’d take me and my brothers along when they visited their friends. So I’ve literally been around the world.”

Karen toured the rest of the living room, admiring the tan Berber carpet and the suede couch and loveseat with oil-finished oval drum end tables. Then she made her way to the kitchen and dining room, complimenting William on his stainless steel appliances and marble counter tops. “Look at me,” she said. “I’m just making myself at home.”

That made William smile.

Then she asked, “I’m not going to find any of your girlfriend’s panties lying around here, am I?”

He laughed. “No, no, no. There are no panties because there is no girlfriend.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“What about you? Do you have a boyfriend?”

“Nope. I am single.”

“I find that really hard to believe.”

Karen took a seat on one of the Cierra bar stools. “Why is that?” she asked.

“You’re too beautiful to not have a man.”

That made her smile. “Aw shucks. But wouldn’t you know that I get that all of the time.”

William and Karen just looked at each other for a moment, beaming. A part of him wanted to scream, I’m in love with you! I dreamed about you last night!

But instead he asked, “Do you want something to drink?”

“Bottled water’s fine.”

“Coming up.”

William retrieved two bottles of Dasani from his pantry and handed one to Karen along with a paper towel.

“It must be nice living right on the beach,” she said as she looked out onto the balcony. By then the sky was lit with thousands of stars.

“It has its perks, until a hurricane comes. Um—do you want to go out to the balcony?”

“Sure.”

They quietly sat on the balcony, enjoying the night sky and the sounds of the ocean’s waves crashing against the sandy shore.

“I have a balcony in my bedroom, too.” Why did I just say that, William thought.

“Oh yeah? If I lived out here, and I had a balcony in my bedroom, I’d sleep with the door open every night so I can hear the ocean. It’s magical.”

Karen glanced over at William, who caught her looking. She quickly looked away.

“I’m glad that Tamara asked me to come with her tonight. I was really getting tired of her trying to fix me up with guys.” Oh goodness! Why did I just say that, Karen thought.

“Yeah, Tamara’s nice. Maxwell is head over heels for her. And he doesn’t usually do head over heels, believe it or not. He was very nervous before y’all showed up.”

“Nervous isn’t always bad. Sometime nervous is a good thing.”

Karen giggled.

“What’s so funny?”

“Oh nothing.”

“Nothing in woman-speak means something.”

“Woman-speak?”

He gave a shy smile and said, “Never mind.”

“What? Don’t be scared. Tell me what woman-speak means.”

He turned to face her. She gave him her full attention.

“Woman-speak is when you say one thing but mean another.”

“Elaborate.”

“Oh boy, I’m in trouble now.”

“You’re not in trouble.” She brushed her hand against his arm. “Continue.”

“Like when something’s on a woman’s mind and her man asks, ‘What’s wrong?’ And she says ‘Nothing.’ But in reality something is really wrong. And her man has to keep on asking her what’s wrong until she finally tells him. Woman-speak. You ladies have your own language.”

“So are you an expert on women?”

“By no stretch. But I have a great appreciation for women. My mother’s a woman.”

Karen chuckled again. “That’s nice. You know, William, I was worried about you earlier. You were all quiet. I didn’t know what was wrong with you.”

“I guess I was just nervous.”

“It’s like I said earlier; sometimes nervous is a good thing.”

They looked at each other briefly, Karen admiring William’s handsome smile, he marveling her beautiful eyes.

Then he asked, “So Tamara is trying to set you up with someone, huh?”

“I cannot believe I told you that.”

“So let’s not disappoint her. We should go out.”

“You mean like on a date?”

“Yes. Dinner, a movie perhaps.”

“You’re a nice enough guy. I guess that will be fine.”

“I am a nice enough guy,” he replied. “And I promise. I will be a perfect gentleman.”

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James Fant is an award winning author who lives in Charleston, SC. When he’s not reading everything from business management to mysteries or “entertaining” his family with piano solos and spoken word, James writes inspirational romance and suspense that warms the heart and hopefully makes readers laugh—in public.
The idea for An Ode for Orchids came from his appreciation of the enduring strength and tenacity of all of the women in his life: his hardworking mother, loving grandmother, strong sisters (related and non-related), no-nonsense aunties, and last but definitely not least, his beautiful wife.

Contact Links
Website: http://www.jamesfantbooks.com/index.html
Facebook: www.facebook.com/JamesFantBooks
Twitter: @jamesfantjr
Blog: https://jamesfantbooks.wordpress.com/
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/jamesfant/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5763237.James_Fant

Purchase Links
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Ode-Orchids-James-Fant-ebook/dp/B00948WD3G/
Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/an-ode-for-orchids-james-fant/1112725557
Kobo: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/222433
iBooks: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/222433

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