Mnemosyne Press proudly announces publication of a new, exciting list of highly readable, fun, and affordable fiction.
First up is a gripping tale of lust, love,
lies, and a deviously plotted murder.
Sooner or later, in one way or another, everyone in this story lies. The result is a tangled web of envy, greed and lust leading to misguided desires and murder.
In her first novel Adriana Bright, daughter of the famous Elizabeth Bright, has produced a real can’t-put-down page turner.
262 pages
Now available as a downloadable PDF.
Special introductory price: Only $4.95!
Some excerpts from the book:
“Stop pussyfooting around, doctor, and tell me what I really want to know. How much time do I have—good time, I mean?”
Llewellyn Gwynne had spent a lifetime barking orders and chewing ass, yet even he was surprised at just how gruff he sounded.
“A couple of months, I’m afraid, then you will go quickly… “Do you want me to talk to Mrs. Gwynne, your children?”
He made a snorting sound. “They are the last people I want to know…If you don’t keep your mouth shut about this, doctor, I’ll make you wish you had.”
The voice on the phone asked for Fred Usher.
“You got him.”
“We’ve never met, Mr. Usher. My name is Curtis Sinclair. I’m attorney for Llewellyn Gwynne.”
“I’ve heard of Gwynne.” Indeed he had!
“Mr. Gwynne would like to meet with you. Would it be possible for you to come up to his place in Montecito on Friday, around four o’clock?”
Fred Usher hesitated. “What does he want to see me about?”
“He wants to discuss doing a book together.”
“It’s nice he’s heard of me, but I only do biographies.”
“I believe that’s what he has in mind. …You should at least talk to Mr. Gwynne, it would be worth your while.”
Usher laughed. “If you’re talking money, Sinclair, you punched the right button.”
“Then you’ll meet with him on Friday?”
“Sure, if my wheels make it that far.”
“Plan on spending the weekend, Mr. Usher. There’s going to be a small party to celebrate Mr. Gwynne’s wedding anniversary.”
“I’m afraid I couldn’t do that.”
“As you wish, but I’d advise bringing your razor and tux. Mr. Gwynne can be most persuasive.”
Fred Usher stood there holding the phone.
“What’s that all about?” Amy Walden was a graduate student at UCLA, bright, brainy and blonde, if on the scrawny side. She occasionally spent the night. No strings.
“You might say it’s about what goes around comes around.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He hung up the phone. “Llewellyn Gwynne wants me to write a book for him.”
“What’s a Llewellyn Gwynne?”
“He’s usually described as a billionaire industrial magnate—big bucks anyway, head of Carver Industries.”
“Never heard of him.”
“He’s something of a mystery man, but I know more about him than I want to.”
“You’re not making much sense, Fred.”
“Llewellyn Gwynne is one of the original conglomerate builders, you know, mergers and acquisitions, takeovers, shady deals, sacrifice purchases, broken promises and ruined lives. Ruthless is the word most often used to describe him. It all began with the Carver Cutlery Co. in Ohio, hence the name, Carver Industries.”
“So?”
“All my life I’ve heard what a bastard Gwynne is, a piranha destroying people for the godalmighty dollar. He has an enemy for every dollar he’s made.”
Amy Walden shook her head. “As long as you know what you’re talking about.”
“That little knife factory in Ohio was owned by a man named Russell Carver. It was his life’s work. When Llewellyn Gwynne took it away from him, he committed suicide.” He looked at her. “I was l2 at the time and cried a lot. Russell Carver was my father.”
“How awful for you, Fred.”
“Not too swift at the time.” He hardened his lips into a line. “I can still hear my mother saying, ‘Llewellyn Gwynne killed your father as surely as he’d held the gun to his head.’”
More excerpts from the book:
He saw a car coming up the drive rather fast. It was a red Mercedes convertible, top down, white leather upholstery. It slowed to a stop before him. “May I help you?”
She was a knockout, flawless skin and bright red lips, a little puffy and very smooth. He felt an instant surge of excitement. Caused by her English accent no doubt. Yeah, sure.
“I hope so, I’m Fred Usher.”
“The writer. How wonderful!” He was rewarded with a ravishing smile. He felt ravished anyway.
She parked, the car door opened. He saw high-heeled pumps and a flash of thigh as she got out. She wore a pale blue suit of some soft, clingy material. This was definitely a woman. She whipped off her kerchief to reveal dark, shoulder-length hair, the ends flipped out a little.
He felt dazzled and suddenly self-conscious. Next to her he was a ten-watt bulb. “I believe Mr. Gwynne is expecting me.” He was surprised he didn’t stutter.
“We both are, Mr. Usher, I’m Mrs. Gwynne, Diana.”
If ever there was a Diana, she was definitely it. He took the hand she extended. Their skin might have been wired for electricity. He was sure he jerked.
She glanced down at her hand, then back at him. Her mouth opened a little. Yeah, she felt it, too. “I’m so pleased to meet you, Mr. Usher, Right Hand Men was wonderful.”
“I only wish there were a few thousand more like you.” The scent of her reached him, a little sweet, warm, intimate. The urge to lean forward and kiss her was powerful. It would be so easy.
“Are you always so self-deprecating, Mr. Usher?”
“I’ve a lot to self-deprecate about.”
She laughed and extricated her hand...“I’m sure not, but it’s a refreshing quality. Come, I’ll show you in.”
She fumbled with her keys, promptly dropped them. He picked them up, then gasped as he handed them to her. She had removed her sunglasses. Hers were the most remarkable eyes he had ever seen, a bright blue but with streaks of silver radiating through the irises, giving the effect of faceted jewels.
“You have beautiful eyes, Mrs. Gwynne.”
“Thank you,” she said softly, then concentrated on opening the door.
He was led into a wide foyer, three stories high, dominated by a large crystal chandelier and an ornate staircase leading to a balcony above, two balconies. But he really wasn’t paying attention.
“If you’ll go past the stairs, through the glass doors, and down the garden, I’m certain you’ll find Lew, most likely doing his laps. I’ll join you in a few minutes.”
He watched her run up the stairs. She wore heels beautifully. Nice calves. Nice everything. God, what a woman! He’d hoped to meet someone. This was most definitely someone.
Diana deposited a small beach bag and her sunglasses on the table, then bent to give Gwynne an affectionate peck. The old man’s arm came around her hips. His hand crept under her top a little. Was he checking to see if all her body parts were there? Naw, it’s called possession.
“Why don’t you have your swim first, Diana?”
“I think I’ll—”
“Then join us for a drink.”
Diana pursed her lips, sighed and turned toward the pool. She brought her hands to her throat to unfasten her wrap, hesitated a moment, then slipped it from her shoulders.
Usher felt sure he gasped. What a bod! She spilled out of the bra, if the term was justified. The bottom, definitely not justified, showed off exquisite buns. Enough to make a girl from Ipanema blush. Diana certainly was. She dove into the pool. Did she think she could hide there?
He watched her gleaming derriere gliding on the surface and became acquainted with true amazement. He’d never seen anything like it. But he had to say something, didn’t he? He couldn’t just leer at a man’s wife in his presence, at least he didn’t think he could. “Mrs. Gwynne swims well.”
“Diana is very accomplished. She paints extremely well, had her own show last year.”
A woman who looks like that also paints beautifully? It isn’t fair. And what does she wear while painting?
“What money? We barely get by on your measly salary.”
“I make a half million dollars a year.” Actually, it was $900,000, but the lie was the only way to control her spending.
“He’s going to leave it all to that English hooker, and you’ll get to kiss her ass the rest of your life. Maybe it’ll smell better to you.”
“That’s pretty low, Dolores, even for you.”
“I’m just trying to give you some backbone. Stand up to him, demand your birthright. If you won’t do it for me, Meredith, think of our son and daughter.”
“You think of them for once, instead of packing them off to summer camp and boarding schools.”
“Whatever you think of me as a mother, they still deserve an inheritance.”
“Their grandfather will take care of them, I’m sure.”
“No, he won’t. The old toad is obsessed with that slut. You’ll get nothing—at least not what you and our children deserve.”
“What can I do about it if he does, stop bitching at me.”
She was quiet for a time, going to the buffet for a fresh cup of coffee. Her back to him, she said, “We have to get rid of her, Meredith.”
“How do you propose to do that?”
She turned to face him. “There are ways.”
“Like what?”
“I’ll take care of it, Meredith.”
Desire and Deceit by Adriana Bright
262 pages
Now available as a downloadable PDF.
Special introductory price: Only $4.95!