For book/ebook authors, publishers, & self-publishers

Part two of Alex Steele and the Death Dealer available July 15th

(1st excerpt from Dealer of Death)
by Lawrence Johnson Sr.

Two hours later Steele found himself driving through the roughest
neighborhood in the city. No one in their right mind would come down
here alone in the daytime and most cops wouldn't risk traveling through
this part of town late at night but somehow on this dark, quiet night
Alexander Steele seemed to be drawn to it. There was movement in
shadows of the blocks and blocks of abandon buildings where it was
commonplace to see hundreds of crack vials strewn about the sidewalk.
The movement came from the remnants of lives that once had promising
futures until somehow it all went wrong, somehow dreams were shattered
and goals were forgotten. This was a microcosm of the millions who
chose unwisely at life's fork in the road. These were the forgotten
whose primary concern was not what to wear to work tomorrow morning but
how to survive another day.

http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/18464

(2nd excerpt from Dealer of Death)

The half dozen zombie-like patrons didn’t bother to look up when he
walked in. The decor was early seventies with duck taped stools but the
balding; cigarette smoking man in front of the grill was defiantly a
product of the fifties.

Never taking the cigarette from his mouth the sweaty cook turned around
holding a spatula in one hand and a plate of eggs and hash browns in
the other. “What can I get you young blood?” Steele chuckled as he
thought, ‘Coffee, hash browns and eggs $1.50, cigarette ashes,no
charge. Does that come with a side of Pepto Bismol? This place would be
a health inspector’s dream if one was ever bold enough to come through
those doors.

Steele took notice of the bulge near the cook’s waistline under his
dirty apron. ‘That ain’t no fanny pack, he thought, this guy was
definitely packing heat. The cook was doing double duty as Trench’s
first line of defense; too bad he didn’t do windows.

Steele glanced at the plate of food and waived him off, “No
thanks.” He pointed to the dark brown door all the way in the back. The
man set the plate on the counter in front of the customer, hanging
directly over head was a swirly strip of fly paper that had done its
job all too well. “You Steele?” he asked.

When Steele nodded the cook reached under the counter and buzzed him in.

http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/18464