Desert Son
by
Glenn Maynard
Blurb:
Carter Spence is a 26 year-old accountant out of Boston who
has an out-of-body experience following a car accident that kills his parents.
He views the chaos from above the scene of the accident, then passes through
the tunnel and reunites with relatives who have long been dead. A woman he does
not recognize approaches him and says, "Welcome, son." Her message to
him is that he needs to be aware of his true identity and should follow signs
that will lead him there. She mentions mountains, but Carter is jolted back
into his physical body before she can finish. After burying his parents, Carter
heads west and meets a free-spirit named Brenda, whom he is drawn to on many
levels. She becomes his travelling companion and leads him to Boulder,
Colorado, and to an old white house of an old man named Martin. Diaries,
hypnosis, and past-life regression reveal a bizarre connection between these
three. Carter discovers that the truth to his identity can only be found by
pursuing the answer to whether he is the reincarnation of his biological father
in what is shaping up to be a love affair rekindled beyond the grave."
Where to buy the book:
http://www.amazon.com/Desert-Son-Glenn-Maynard/dp/1612963129
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/desert-son-glenn-maynard/1118627014?ean=9781612963129
http://www.blackrosewriting.com/romance/desert-son
About the Author:
Glenn Maynard is the author of the books "Strapped Into
An American Dream" and "Desert Son." He has a Bachelor of Arts
degree in English from the University of Connecticut, and a degree in
Communications. After spending 4 years living in Denver, Colorado, he returned
home to Connecticut and now resides in Wethersfield. Glenn has a 14 year-old
son named Andrew. As a travel correspondent for three newspapers while
exploring the United States, Canada
and Mexico during his one-year journey, Glenn published a
total of twenty newspaper articles. His story was captured on the NBC local
news upon his return.
Website: http://www.glennmaynard.weebly.com/
Twitter: http://bit.ly/1TL1etJ
Facebook: http://on.fb.me/1XQNa20
Desert Son: http://amzn.to/1XqHOzC
Excerpt:
“Ouch…shit!” she screamed out, dropping the cup, and
watching it splatter onto the floor. The coffee reached
Carter’s
feet, and wiped out the pastry boxes that were stacked up on
a
shelf against the wall. The little foreign man behind the
counter
threw his hands up in the air and started blurting out
incoherent
words in his own language. He went into a back room and
returned
moments later with a mop and bucket, and several small white
rags.
Carter grabbed a couple of rags from his hand and started
wiping the coffee from the girl’s shoes, and kept repeating
to the
girl, “Are you ok?” He finally looked into the girl’s eyes
and
stopped in his tracks, silenced in the middle of yet another
inquiry
as to her condition. Her long, silky black hair hung straight
down
to the middle of her back. He noticed by the calm look on her
face
that she was more embarrassed than anything else. With the
rag in
his hand, Carter grabbed both her hands and began wiping them
clean. Her blue eyes were highlighted by multicolor eyeliner,
which was a wild but pleasing look to Carter.
“I’m okay,” she said, thanking Carter for his assistance. Her
teeth sparkled more so than her eyes, sometimes even
reflecting
the sun. She was average looking, but seemingly wilder than
Carter
had been used to. She existed in this dark gothic-like aura,
which
intrigued Carter. Sure, she had a nice smile, but something
about
this girl drew Carter in. Something dark and wild exuded from
this
brief encounter.
“I think my hands are dry now,” she said to Carter through a
chuckle.
“Oh, I’m okay, I mean…I’m sorry,” said Carter, nervous and
embarrassed that his attraction and affections were out in
the
open. They locked eyes for what seemed an eternity. Carter
was no
longer embarrassed. He was struck. There was something about
this girl that Carter needed at this moment in time. Maybe
she was
in his shoes, he thought. Maybe she was searching like he was
searching.
