Author: Michele Pariza Wacek
Published: May 27th, 2016
Publisher: Love-Based Publishing
Genre: Psychological Thriller, Mystery, Suspense
Which would be worse: knowing that your dead sister has come back to life and is now a serial killer, or that someone else is the killer… and that person is you?
Six months after Linda’s sister Elizabeth killed herself, Linda has finally gotten her life back to some semblance of normalcy. Until a killer appears who is stalking men … a killer who resembles Elizabeth … a killer who seems somehow familiar to Linda.
And to make matters worse, Detective Steve Anderson, her old high school crush, is assigned to the case. He’s asking Linda all sorts of questions – questions she couldn’t possibly have an answer to.
There’s no reason for him to be investigating Linda. She couldn’t possibly have anything to do with this.
About the Author:
When Michele was 3 years old, she taught herself to read because she wanted to write stories so badly.
As you can imagine, writing has been a driving passion throughout her life. She became a professional copywriter (which is writing promotional materials for businesses), which led to her founding a copywriting and marketing company that serves clients all over the world.
Along with being a copywriter, she also writes novels (she’s published two psychological thrillers/mystery/suspense novels “The Stolen Twin” and “Mirror Image” so far) plus, she is also the author of the “Love-Based Copy” books, which are a part of the “Love-Based Business” series and cover both business and personal development.
She holds a double major in English and Communications from the University of Wisconsin-Madison. Currently she lives in the mountains of Prescott, Arizona with her husband Paul and her border collie Nick and southern squirrel hunter Cassie and is hard at work on her next novel.
There is a tour wide giveaway. Prizes include the following:
- Signed print copy of The Stolen Twin (US Only)
- $10 Amazon Gift Card (INT)
Ends May 31st at 11:59 PM EDTa Rafflecopter giveaway
Excerpt from Mirror Image by Michele Pariza Wacek:
was born, her mother knew beyond a
shadow of a doubt that the hospital had made a mistake. Elizabeth
It had been a difficult pregnancy. Marie spent most of it in bed, nauseated, uncomfortable, exhausted. She barely kept anything down, subsisting mostly on tea and saltine crackers. When the time came to deliver, the doctors performed an emergency Caesarean section, so she wasn’t able to actually watch the birth.
She couldn’t explain it, but the first time the nurses presented her with
, she refused to
even hold the baby. “There must be some mistake,” she insisted. Elizabeth
“There’s no mistake,” the nurses said, their approach firm and no-nonsense.
Blond and pale,
looked nothing like the other dark haired members of the family. But it was
more than that. Elizabeth
felt wrong. Marie sensed it every single time she looked at Elizabeth Elizabeth, touched Elizabeth,
The baby was alien to her. Elizabeth
was not her baby. Elizabeth
But she could do nothing about it. Her husband hadn’t seen the birth. He had refused to attend any of his children’s births. The nurses kept assuring her that no one had made, could possibly have made, a mistake. So Marie had little choice but to bring her home.
From birth, the baby kept quiet. Rarely fussed. Hardly cried. She started talking at six months, much earlier than the rest of her children, and started forming full sentences at just over a year old.
She spent most of her time alone or, once she learned how, reading. In fact,
remained such a
quiet child, Marie could easily forget about her. It made her nervous. Elizabeth was too quiet. Elizabeth
Even her scent was all wrong. Babies smelled warm and sweet, of milk and talcum powder.
scent reminded her of meat just beginning to spoil: thick and rotten. Elizabeth
But there was something else wrong with
something more serious than her near silence, her behavior, her scent. Even
more serious than that alien feeling, which Marie had tried to dismiss as
simple post-partum depression, although it never did go away entirely. Elizabeth
When Marie was really being honest with herself, which didn’t happen often, she could admit what really disturbed her most about her daughter.
had silver eyes. Elizabeth
Not always. Most of the time they looked gray. But sometimes, they changed to silver. Occasionally, Marie even thought she could see them glowing, like a cat’s. Especially at night. There
would be, lying on her back, perfectly quiet in her crib, her eyes strangely
open, shining faintly in the darkness. Marie would tell herself that Elizabeth ’s eyes merely
reflected the nightlight in a bizarre fashion. After all, none of her other
children’s eyes ever glowed. But it still didn’t make her any easier to face,
late at night, as silver eyes stared at her from the darkness. They seemed so
old, so ancient. Eyes that had seen thousands of years and hundreds of
lifetimes. Those eyes peered out from her newborn’s face, watching her every
move, strangely calculating, full of adult understanding and knowledge. She felt
afraid, if she were being honest … all alone in the room with those peculiar
silver eyes watching, watching, always watching. Elizabeth
Nonsense, she reassured herself. Surely, she could not be afraid of her own infant daughter! What would her husband say? Plenty probably, and most of it with his fists.
Still, she found herself checking on
less and less. She argued with herself: Elizabeth
didn’t fuss much anyway. Marie didn’t need to check on her so often — not like
she did with her other, noisy, “normal” babies. Elizabeth
Her other children. Such a joy they were, her four boys and other girl — Peter, Mark,
and Linda. All healthy,
regular children, with coarse dark hair, brown eyes and a little bit of baby
fat on their bones. They looked the way children should look, the way her children
should look, like their parents. But more importantly, they acted the way
children should act — loud, boisterous, rough, needy. Marie loved them for it,
loved how she couldn’t get a moment’s peace when they played together. Even
when their play turned to fighting, she still preferred it to Mike, Chad ’s silent, eerie presence. Elizabeth
But Marie loved
too. Loved her fiercely, with the same passion she felt for her other children.
Marie knew she did. She told herself she did, time and time again. The fact
that she felt relief when Elizabeth
wasn’t around meant nothing. She just needed time away from her children, after
all. Almost all mothers welcomed the time they had away from their constant,
children-related responsibilities. It didn’t mean she loved them any less. It
didn’t mean anything at all. Elizabeth