I'm so pleased to be able to introduce you to a good friend and author, Kelly Martin. I "met" Kelly through this wonderful thing called the internet when I came across her Encourage 365 blog. We hit it off right away and now, we're celebrating the debut of her second novel, Saint Sloan.. I'll let Kelly tell you all about it...
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| Author, Kelly Martin |
I want to thank Jan for having me here! I haven’t been a
‘writer’ long (or a published author long), but Jan has been a very big driving
force in my writing life. She has encouraged me when I couldn’t encourage
myself. SO thank you so much, Jan! I couldn’t have done this without you!
I wanted to give you guys a sneak peek at SAINT SLOAN, my
new YA/Christian/Inspirational thriller out now from Astraea Press. In it,
Sloan Bridges just wants her 18th birthday to be perfect… her
attacker had different ideas.
Chapter
One
The
cold November air burned Sloan’s lungs as she ran
down
the secluded dirt driveway. Looking over her shoulder at the brightly
lit farmhouse swarming with people, she wished she had grabbed
her coat from the living room before escaping. Her legs protested
with each additional step she forced them to take, and quite
frankly, she felt like an idiot. In four days, she would be
eighteen,
an adult; why should she care what others thought of
her?
Or, more specifically, what Darcy Perry thought of her?
After
nearly a quarter of a mile, the driveway sloped down
at
a steep angle and met Brown Hollow Road. Sloan stopped at the bottom,
doubled over, and put her hands on her knees to catch her breath.
The harder her lungs extended, the sillier she felt for running
away like that. Sure, Darcy was mean, exceptionally so when
she drank, but Sloan shouldn’t have let her words hurt her like
they did. And that’s all they were, words. Words and cold beer thrown
in her face. She ran her fingers through her damp hair and wondered
how she would explain it to her mother.
When
her breathing came easier, she stood up and looked back
toward the house. From her vantage point behind the short hill,
she could see all of the lights burning in the second story windows
and hear the music blasting throughout the isolated farmland.
The glow from the floodlights surrounding the house made
it appear to float in the sky. No doubt about it, Boyd knew how
to throw a party. Sloan couldn’t help feeling a little satisfied thinking
of how Mr. Lawrence, Boyd’s father, would react when he found
out his biology students were getting drunk at his house without
his knowledge.
She
leaned on the standard--‐‑issue black mailbox and frowned.
It wouldn’t be fun to walk all the way back to get her coat and
beg Mackenzie to take her home. Everyone would stare at her, mock
her, and call her ‘Saint Sloan’, Darcy’s pet name for her. The thought
of Darcy’s smug face rising inevitably from Boyd’s muscular
neck made Sloan’s stomach knot harder, and she slumped
farther down against the mailbox, causing the metal to creak.
Sometimes Sloan wondered why she ever went anywhere.
She
didn’t drink, do drugs, or make fun of others, and she wasn’t into
sleeping around anymore. She was the “reformed bad girl,” and
everyone loved to taunt her about it, especially her former best friend,
Darcy.
Blinding
lights coming toward her right side caught her attention.
Turning toward them, she put her hand over her eyes to block
the brightness of the passing car. Instead of speeding by, the car
slowed down and stopped across the yellow line from her. Goose
bumps, not from the cold, formed under her long sleeves.
Meeting a strange person in a strange car at night in the middle
of an old country road didn’t appeal to her. Bloody flashes from
every horror movie she’d ever watched swarmed in her mind.
Suddenly,
being made fun of and harassed at the party didn’t seem so
bad. She wished she had been able to control her temper better and
never have run out of that house. Nervous, she grabbed the little
golden cross that had fallen under her dark teal shirt collar and
prayed whoever was in the car wasn’t a homicidal manic.
The
driver’s side window rolled down, and Sloan squinted through
the dark to see inside. “You okay?” an unfamiliar male voice
said. Whoever it was didn’t sound much older than her.
“Yeah,
I’m fine.” She rocked on the balls of her feet so she could
be ready to run if the situation escalated beyond friendly chatter.
“Just out for a walk.”
“In
the dark?”
“Seemed
like a good idea at the time,” she said truthfully.
Sloan
heard a hint of laughter coming from the car. At least, it
didn’t sound menacing. “Like I said, are you okay?”
“Fine,”
she said with an undercurrent of defiance. She wished
he’d just go on his merry way.
“In
my experience, people don’t go for walks in the dark when
everything is fine.”
“I’m…
I will be fine. Thanks for stopping. You must be in a hurry.”
She tucked her hands under her elbows and walked back up
the little hill. Seeing the lights and hearing the annoying music coming
from the farmhouse filled her with dread. Between the house
and conversing with a stranger alone in the dark, she figured the
house would be safer, but not by much.
“I
don’t have to be at work until eleven,” he yelled. “I can give
you a lift to your house if you want.”
Sloan
spun around, half expecting him to be standing behind
her with a rag full of chloroform. “Thanks. That’s sweet, but it’s
not necessary. I can get my friend to take me home.” Lord,
please don’t
let her be drunk.
She
started to turn back around when he yelled again. “You don’t
know who I am, do you?”
Of
course she didn’t. It wasn’t like she could see him in the shadows.
“Should I?”
“Guess
not. I’ve not been back in town all that long, but I know
you.”
The
tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Who was
this guy?
“You’re
Sloan Bridges. You used to date, and I use that term loosely,
my brother back in the day.”
That
didn’t help much. “Could you be more specific?”
His
laugh filled the space between them. “Had a lot of boyfriends,
have you?”
“More
than my fair share,” she admitted regretfully.
“We
all have a past, Sloan. Don’t let it get you down.”
Easier
said than done. “So, who is your brother?”
“I’m
not surprised you don’t remember. You were both eating
paste in Kindergarten back then. Ray Hunter.”
Ray
Hunter! Her face lit up when she recognized the name.When
she was six years old, Ray had been her first official school boyfriend.
He was also her first kiss. Unfortunately, that kiss on the cheek
during nap time landed him in time out next to Mrs. Dobson’s
desk. Sloan had always felt bad about that. “I remember Ray!
Wow, so you’re Adam or Aidan… I’m sorry. I don’t remember your
name.”
“Aaron.”
“Aaron
Hunter! Yeah. I remember you now! You and Ray and
your mom moved after Christmas that year. Broke my heart.”
“I’m
sure you bounced back quickly.”
She
couldn’t deny that. “I didn’t know you were back. Are Ray
and your mom here, too?”
There
was a pause, and Sloan wondered for a second if he had
heard her. “Ray is. My mom’s not.” The way he said it let Sloan know
he’d rather have his teeth pulled out than talk about her.“Anyway,
I’m going back to town to get ready for work. If you still live
next to Donna Robinson, it’s on my way.”
“I
do, but Donna doesn’t live there anymore. She’s in Evening
Oak Nursing Home.” She found herself walking toward him
as she spoke.
“I
hate that.”
“She’s
been in there about a month. I visit her now and then. She’s
doing as well as you’d expect, but she can’t take care of herself
anymore. Her house has been on the market ever since she went
in.”
“They
don’t think she’ll come back home?”
“Doesn’t
look like it.” Thinking about Donna always made her
sad. A few months before, the woman had been full of life.Then
a stroke nearly killed her. It did take away her ability to walk and
care for herself, but not her mind. Though slow to talk, Donna was
as spry as ever. “How do you even remember where I live?”
“Good
memory,” he said. “Donna was always nice to me and
Ray. She took care of us when my mom wouldn’t… couldn’t,” he
corrected quickly. “And she used to make us cookies. She took us
to church a few times.”
Sloan
heard the genuine sadness in his voice. Something about
it made her not as apprehensive as she had been a few moments
before. Anyone who held on to such sweet memories that long
wouldn’t hurt her. She hoped not anyway. “Yeah, she was. I always
liked her. She took me to church, too. I still go to her church, but
it’s not the same without her.”
A
few seconds went by before he spoke again. “So, it’s obvious
you’re freezing and something or someone ran you out of that
house.” He motioned toward the lights on the hill. ”You don’t want
to go there, for whatever reason. I can help. Last chance. Let me
drive you home. I promise I won’t hurt you.”
“Says
the guy sitting in a strange car talking to an innocent girl
in the middle of the night.”
“A
Mustang isn’t strange.”
“No,
but the rest of this is.” Torn, she looked back toward Boyd’s
house filled with mostly judgmental classmates; then she shifted
to Aaron’s car and bit her lip. “Okay. Look, I’ll text my
friend,
Mackenzie, and tell her I have a ride home.”
“Good.”
“Good.”
“I’ll
also tell her that if she doesn’t hear from me in one hour to
call the police.”
“Ouch,”
he laughed. “You think that little of me?”
“I
don’t know you well enough to think anything about you. That’s
the point.”
~Kelly Martin
_______________________________
Kelly Martin is a southern girl who lives with her husband and
three rowdy, angelic daughters. By day, she is a teacher. By night, she is a
crazy-haired, multi-tasker who writes when the kids go to bed.
She has two young adult
novels out now: SAINT SLOAN (about a girl who can’t get away from her past) and
CROSSING THE DEEP (a girl’s faith is tested, stranding on a mountain with a guy
she barely knows). Both are Amazon bestsellers.
You can find her at any of her two blogs: www.kellymartinstories.com (author blog) and www.encourage365.com (daily devotional blog).
Kelly loves God, is addicted to chocolate, and would rather write than sleep.
You can find her at any of her two blogs: www.kellymartinstories.com (author blog) and www.encourage365.com (daily devotional blog).
Kelly loves God, is addicted to chocolate, and would rather write than sleep.
BUY LINKS:
SAINT SLOAN:
BARNES AND NOBLE: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/saint-sloan-kelly-martin/1114723748?ean=2940016377308
CROSSING THE DEEP:
BARNES AND NOBLE: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/crossing-the-deep-kelly-martin/1113215706?ean=2940015565096
A very talented writer. Both of her books are well written. They pull you in and you won't want to put them down.
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