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Book of Days: Book 5 of the JP Kinkaid Chronicles
$17.95
Paperback
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BOOK DETAILS

  • Paperback
  • Sep.15.2011
  • 9780984436262

Deborah gives an overview of the book:

The release of Blacklight's double CD, Book of Days, looks like business as usual. The relaxed tour showcases a revolutionary new set design, as well as Bombardiers keyboard ace Tony Mancuso along as a guest. No one can predict what happens next: the CD goes multi-platinum, generating the need for a very different kind of tour. At first, everything seems fine. It takes a while before guitarist JP Kinkaid realises something very dark is going on: a string of deaths, following Blacklight show nights. Things come to a head when a longtime member of Blacklight’s extended touring family is killed. At the band's request, Homicide detective Patrick Ormand investigates, but uncovering the reason behind the deaths may be a lot easier than healing the wounds those deaths have caused.
Read full overview »

The release of Blacklight's double CD, Book of Days, looks like business as usual. The relaxed tour showcases a revolutionary new set design, as well as Bombardiers keyboard ace Tony Mancuso along as a guest. No one can predict what happens next: the CD goes multi-platinum, generating the need for a very different kind of tour.

At first, everything seems fine. It takes a while before guitarist JP Kinkaid realises something very dark is going on: a string of deaths, following Blacklight show nights.

Things come to a head when a longtime member of Blacklight’s extended touring family is killed. At the band's request, Homicide detective Patrick Ormand investigates, but uncovering the reason behind the deaths may be a lot easier than healing the wounds those deaths have caused.

Read an excerpt »

So here we were, ready to get on with it. Right about now, at every live show the band had ever played until tonight, the houselights would be flickering. Every other show, we'd be waiting for the recorded voice, the announcement: Good evening, Chicago! Bon soir, Paris! Buona sera, Roma! Guten abend, Berlin!

     Not tonight, though. The audience had no way to know it, but we were all on brand new territory.

     "BlackLIGHT! BlackLIGHT!"

     Eight o'clock. Bree leaned in, slid a hand between my legs, gave me a quick squeeze, and kissed me.

     "Play a good gig, baby." Her eyes were bright. "I'll be down front, mostly, but if not, Cyn Corrigan said she'd hold a seat in the reserved gallery next to the ramp. Barb Wilson's already up there. I'll see you backstage during the break."

     She was gone, disappearing into the mass of bodies heading for the family-only guest section, down in front of the main stage. Mac breezed past me, limber and ready, adjusting his headphones and tiny earclip mic, his harmonica in one hand. The rest of the band was right there, getting into position for their own entrances, waiting for their cues.

     Right. Showtime.

     "Eight o'clock," Mac said, and laughed. "Let's rock!"

* * *

     There's something about opening nights.

     Right, I know, I've said it before, but it's always true, and this time, with so much that was new and so much on the line, there was something that felt like raw electricity in the air.

     It went off beautifully, just the way we'd hoped, right down to the audience reactions. Mac strolled out onstage, dressed very differently from his usual spandex and flash gear; he was in tight black jeans and soft flat boots and an oversized fisherman's jersey. When I'd found out what he planned to wear, I'd told Bree that I hoped the disappointed howls from his female fans wouldn't drown out the band, and she'd looked at me as if I was dim, or speaking a foreign language. I couldn't suss out why, but when Katia'd seen him walk out of the Green Room in that gear, she'd whimpered and said something under her breath, so it looked like Bree'd been right, as usual.

     And he'd walked out onstage to the edge, waiting a moment for the audience to recognise him, giving them just a second, but not longer than that. He had his harp out, ready and waiting for guitar music.

     And here came Luke, his old Guild acoustic slung round his neck, milked and ready to go. And here it came, right on cue: just as the first members of the audience realised who was standing there under full house lights, Luke went up the ramp, playing the twelve-bar cheeky grit of Home Cookin' Blues. Just as the first gasps and the first cheers of recognition rippled through the crowd, Mac grinned and lifted the harmonica and they were wailing together, Blacklight's two original founders.

     The houselights went down now, full dark, and of course the crowd went totally bonkers. Mac and Luke kept it up, and the crowd quieted down, because they aren't stupid, our fans, and this was new, something they hadn't seen, and it was pretty obvious there was more to come.

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Note from the author coming soon...

About Deborah

Deborah Grabien is a cook, guitar player, cat rescuer, traveller, and all-around rocker chick. She also writes a little: she's the author of the Haunted Ballad series (St. Martins Minotaur), six standalone novels, and the Kinkaid...

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