My first book, Apocalipstick, explores true evil after humanity is lost in the chaos of a zombie apocalypse. Remote focuses on the horrors of technology replacing people, and No Trouble at All tackles the evils people do to one another in a murder mystery. With all of the books, scenes with blood and gore are often easier to write than the romance. Could it be that horror is more understandable and evident than love in the world and, therefore, easier to translate through the written word? This question left me wondering why people are so happy to be horrified?
Horror, whether on the big screen or in a paperback novel, helps people confront and embrace their fears. By empathizing with others going through terrible, scary situations, an individual can better deal with small fears occurring on a daily basis. Through the horror genre, people can also better understand society’s taboos or at least get a glimpse into them.
Reading and watching something scary gives people the chance to be terrified while knowing they are, in reality, completely safe. Sitting next to my husband, being able to close my eyes against the glare of the television or having the ability to put down a book when it gets too disturbing allows me to feel the thrill of horror and leave it when I need to. My safety net -- my home, my husband -- lets me to embrace the thrill of fear, but only to the extent I am comfortable with.
Finally, horror is often used to teach lessons. Think about the urban legends such as Bloody Mary or the Hookman, and, of course, the original Grimm’s Fairy Tales. The Hookman is one example of an urban legend used to teach a moral lesson. It dissuades teens from getting too crazy at lover’s lane. The version I heard growing up told the story of a boy and girl making out in a car. The girl hears a noise. The boy investigates. A man with a hook for a hand chases him. In some stories the boy is caught and killed, but in others he and the girl escape. When they make it back to safety and check the car for damage, they find the hook embedded in the door. Teens, beware the Hookman! He will dice and slice up a car and those inside, if society’s rules are ignored.
The world is a scary place, and by addressing horrors in a movie or story, people can acclimate to and accept the fact that evil exists. So the next time you are purposely pick up a Stephen King novel or slip The Conjuring into the DVD player, consider why you are doing so.
No Trouble at All
Lisa Acerbo
Genre: Romance/Thriller
Publisher: Destiny Whispers Publishing
Date of Publication: October 31, 2015
ISBN-10: 1943504016
ISBN-13: 978-1-943504-01-5
Word Count: 74,810
Book Description:
Trouble from the Past can Kill your Future.
It's a bad day for Sophie Carter when she stumbles across a dead body in the woods. But when the suspected murderer turns out to be a leather-clad vagabond who died in 1889, her carefully controlled quiet life explodes. Not only is Sophie in the wrong place at the wrong time, but as a local history buff who loves old legends, she knows too much about the past to remain uninvolved. Trouble is a killer and no one can escape.
Detective Jackson Lynch asks Sophie to help him decipher the legend of the Old Leather Man and unravel the mystery of the murdered woman. Going against her best judgment, Sophie joins forces with the distractingly sexy detective on the police investigation and in pursuit of a killer. Jackson is hot to solve the case as they follow the clues through Connecticut and New York State, uncovering both legend and fact.
As they move closer to solving the murder, a series of missteps shove Sophie into Jackson’s arms and straight into the media. Trouble is everywhere. Jackson’s career begins to crumble and Sophie becomes a suspect in the heinous crime. The case unravels. The past and present collide. Sophie is swept into more danger than she could ever imagine when the Old Leather Man comes looking for her hide to tan.
Book Trailer: https://youtu.be/S-OlifkUsZM
Excerpt:
Sophie loved to
hike and run, continuously finding new trails to explore in the vicinity. She
enjoyed the convenience of living forty-five minutes outside New York City,
just over the New York border in Glenville, Connecticut. The town was far
enough away that she could still immerse herself in nature, but close enough to
the city that she could attend concerts, events, and culture when she needed a
change. She explored the abundant state parks and open green spaces that
abounded close by, enjoying the diversity found in the change of seasons.
Today was a
little different. Sophie had departed for her run from her home in southern
Connecticut much later than anticipated. A fender bender at the local Starbucks
in Greenwich delayed her further.
In her defense,
she had just tapped the back of the other car when she backed out of her
parking space. There had been minimal damage. The white haired older couple,
Fran and Frank Bunkowsky, while a tad grouchy about what the dent might mean
for their insurance, were overall relatively pleasant.
They even
invited Sophie for tea the next day.
Then Sophie had
driven the thirty odd miles to the Pound Ridge Reservation, looking forward to
an energizing run.
But her morning
continued to be troubled.
As she locked
her car and began to stretch, sweat streamed from her brow in large droplets.
The autumn day in the forests of the outer suburbs of New York City had turned
muggy. At the entrance of the trail where she planned to begin her run, the day
turned angrier and even more unseasonably hot for September. The threat of
thunderstorms darkened the skies. To top it off, she had forgotten both bug spray
and bottled water, making the jaunt through the woods not nearly as relaxing or
therapeutic as expected.
The sky was
troubled; her day was troubled.
She could not
shake the premonition that things were about to get worse.
This wasn’t the
first time she had felt that way. Probably would not be the last. Nature, at
least, offered solace and peace.
She began to run
the trail.
For the last few
years since she had quit her job at the hospital because she just couldn’t
handle watching people die anymore, Sophie regularly came here to watch the
maple, beech, and birch trees turn shades of leafy avocado green in Springtime
and then morph to bright yellows, reds, and oranges in the Fall.
This was one of
the prettiest areas to visit year round. She loved the changes that came month
by month making each trip unique. While a few tree leaves had swapped green for
yellow, it was still too early in September for a dramatic seasonal display.
Gnats, on the
other hand, were in full force, swarming around her curly brown ponytail like
tiny fighter jets while leaving every other hiker she passed on the trail
alone. They must like her shampoo. The ecstatic bugs were drawn to her chestnut
curls like it was irresistible gnat candy.
Sophie ran
faster. The crazy bugs kept up.
She swatted at
them, vowing to change her hair products as soon as she returned home. She
tightened her ponytail in the elastic that had come loose, without slowing her
steps. A few long curls she missed drooped down her back.
She needed this
run. The exercise opened her lungs and stretched lean athletic legs until the
energy flowed through her toned body like liquid fire. It was invigorating. In
a crazy troubled world, it kept her sane. She picked up the pace and ran and
ran, not stopping.
Being in good
shape had its advantages. While other hikers huffed and puffed after a while,
turning around before coming this far into the forest, Sophie could run for
miles without stopping.
As a nurse
always battling injury, disease, and death it was important to remember you
were healthy and alive.
Finally, Sophie
saw the cave.
The reason she
had decided to visit Ward Pound Ridge.
She had first
heard of a crazy old man called the Old Leather Man at the Greenwich Audubon
Society a while back, when she attended a presentation and hike. His presence
in these woods in the mid 1800’s was an unsolved mystery and being a naturally
curious woman who loved history, she wanted to learn more.
By today’s
standards, he would be considered a homeless vagabond, but the Leather Man had
a home. His home had once been the numerous wild spaces of Connecticut and New
York. Still, he would have accurately depicted the description of a vagabond or
wild man. He made his clothes out of thick leather scraps, carefully hand
stitched together to form a durable outfit that helped him survive the
elements.
The heavy suit
was how he got the name.
No one knew his
real one, not for sure. He lived for many years in caves. One happened to be at
the Greenwich Audubon property and another right here.
After the
lecture at the Audubon, Sophie had read all about the Old Leather Man,
fascinated that a man could live alone in the woods without the normal creature
comforts most needed to survive.
Today she was
revisiting another of his caves.
Moving closer,
she again wiped the sweat from her brow and then ran her damp hands along the
material of her athletic shorts.
The gnats still
wanted to be friends.
Slowing to hike
the last uphill area, she swatted them away again.
Of course, they
were too fascinated with her curly ponytail to actually leave. They liked her
too much.
A few more steps
climbing up the dirt and twig laden path, she found herself at the entrance of
the cave. Her heart pounded with excitement. The cliff directly behind her was
a high point on the trail, but she wasn’t going to scale it. As she looked
around, she noticed many outcrops and smaller shelter-like formations.
Directly ahead,
large chunks of rock, which at one point in time had broken away from the
cliff, now hung above her head at jagged angles, creating an inscrutable
pyramid-shaped entrance. Sophie found it easy to envision the Old Leather Man
coming to one of these caves just before dark, starting a small fire with
precisely placed kindling waiting in the fire pit, and then preparing a meal
and resting.
As she entered,
the interior was tighter than remembered, fostering claustrophobia. She was a
tall slender woman and had to duck down to make her way inside where large
slabs of schist and gneiss formed ceilings and walls. Crouching slightly, she
moved forward only to be engulfed in the cool, murky shade. The interior fell
back into a rich mosaic of darkness.
While most of
the cave remained dark, the space directly in front of her was lit by the sun.
Smaller than she remembered, it was not a gaping cavern but more like a cozy
protected nook. It was a safe place to sleep for the night, large enough to
stay out of the weather and be warm from the fire.
“What the hell?”
she murmured as a horrid stench stung her nose.
It reeked as if
something had died. It had.
As her eyes
adjusted quickly to the dim interior, Sophie looked around, ready to see a
decaying carcass of a raccoon or squirrel. Instead, she saw a bloated body
propped sitting in the far corner, half hidden by a jutted rock outcrop.
About the Author:
Lisa Acerbo is a high school teacher and adjunct instructor at the college level, holding an EdD in Educational Leadership. No Trouble at All is her third novel. Her first novel about zombies, vampires and romance, Apocalipstick, was published in 2013 followed by a young adult science fiction novel title Remote in 2014. In addition, she has contributed to local newspapers, news and travel blogs including The Patch and Hollywood Scriptwriter. She lives in Connecticut with her husband, two daughters, three cats, and horse.
www.DestinyNovels.com
www.DestinyAuthor.us – Meet the characters, Sophie and Jackson, read teasers from future books, and learn more about author, Lisa Acerbo
Facebook: www.facebook.com/lisa.acerbo.5
Twitter: @Apocalipstick_
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3 comments:
This book sounds intriguing! thanks for sharing
Thanks for being part of my book tour! It was a great event.
A great excerpt thank you.
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