Monday, September 22, 2014

For By Grace by Adrian J. Smith



Author Bio:
Adrian J. Smith, or "AJ" as she is often called, is a part time writer with an epic imagination, sharp wit, and kind heart that gets her into a bit of trouble when it comes to taking in all the neighborhood stray cats. Being obsessed with science fiction, Smith often goes off on tangents about the space-time continuum. She is also a part time lunatic with a secretive past. It's been rumored that she was once a spy for the government, but anyone who has gotten close enough to know the truth has never lived to tell the tale. When traveling around the world on various classified tasks, Smith requires the following be provided: buffalo jerky, mimosas, and eighty six pennies. This is all we know about the reclusive woman.
Author Contact:
Cover Artist: Heidi DeCausemaker
Publisher: Supposed Crimes, LLC
Blurb(s):
Being a Sheriff’s Deputy is not all about saving lives and arresting criminals, and each day Grace wonders if she’ll make it home.

While kids at the schools Deputy Grace Halling visits see her as the knight in blue-cotton armor, people involved in the cases she is dispatched to have a different opinion. She has every confidence in her ability to do her job and arrest criminals. She easily takes down a knife-wielding woman and a drunken combatant teenager without hesitation. Everyone—victim, suspect, or witness—has a story to tell or to lie about, and Grace is never perturbed by their tales.

That all changes when she looks down the barrel of a gun. She loses confidence in her ability as a deputy, she loses trust in herself and fellow officers, and she struggles to stay afloat as shift after shift passes. Grace cannot find her rhythm of being a deputy again. And when the Police Chaplain unexpectedly barges into her life, her personal and professional lives are flipped upside down. Grace struggles to find her even ground, worrying that the next time she stares a murderer in the face will be the last.


Excerpt:
Deputy Halling tensed her shoulders as her cruiser sped up—she was always ready for the next suspect. The truck was already four blocks ahead of her and did not look to be slowing down. She reached up and hit the mouthpiece of the radio at her shoulder, tilting her head as she spoke. “337—speeder on Hosmer and 126th, heading northbound. Red Ford Ranger, early model, plate is boy-boy-charles-seven-zero-nine. In pursuit.
“10-4,” dispatch responded.
Hitting the gas, Grace got as close to the truck as possible. They weaved in and out of traffic, cars pulling over to the side and hitting their brakes as the driver either caught sight of the truck or heard her sirens. He blasted through a red light, horns beeping continuously at him as she drove to catch up.
              Grace slammed on her brakes. She let out a quick breath as a black mustang came to a forceful stop, letting her drive past them. She picked up her speed, scanning the roadway ahead to try and see where the Ford had gone. Biting her lip, Grace cocked her head to the side, skimming the intersections to make sure everyone had stopped or was coming to a stop before she went through them. One car was too close of a call for her.

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