The Donor
Candace Osmond
Genre: Sci-Fi Fantasy
Publisher: Guardian Publishing
ISBN: 978-1502508812
eBook: 9781311872708
ASIN: B00OK045IO
Number of pages: 316
Word Count: 55k
Cover Artist: Majeau Designs
Book Description:
What's the first thought that would run through your mind if you woke up, completely naked, strapped to an operating table, sans a kidney?
What ran through Nora Daniels mind was that, sadly, nobody would even notice she was missing. No family, no friends, not even a boyfriend.
No, there would be no Prince Charming busting down the door to save the day or loved ones to mourn her death. Unless she could find a way to uncover the secrets hidden in her past and discover the one thing tying her to this world.
Excerpt:
The strong stench of chemicals
and bleach burned my nose and lungs, waking me from a deep and dreamlike haze,
my eyes struggling open to find almost complete darkness. At least, I assumed
it was; my mind and vision were both cloudy. Beneath the overwhelming odor of
some kind of cleanser and noxious fumes, I caught a whiff of something dank, much
like mold or mildew. In the distance, I heard a voice - no, two voices, muffled
and just close enough for me to make out a bit of what they were saying. The
sounds only compromised by the echoes which bounced off of the walls around me.
Was I in a tunnel?
Deep tones meant that both voices
were male and I forced my mind to focus. Instantly, a searing pain erupted in
my side, forcing the last bit of drowsiness away and bringing me to the surface
of my consciousness. I’d never experienced anything so wretched before in my
life! The growing pain was far worse than any headache or migraine that I’d
ever had. It cut through me, like a hot knife, and every other thought fled
from my mind. All I could concentrate on was this horrific sensation, not like
a broken bone or a bad cut. No, it created an image of someone slicing into me
and placing a burning hot coal, straight from the fire, deep into the right
side of my body.
Instinctively, I reached to pull
out the offending rock and instantly began to panic when my arms wouldn’t move.
I thought, perhaps, the excruciating pain had caused my brain to not connect to
my limbs. But as my natural reflexes had me trying to move, I felt the
restraints at my wrists and ankles, holding me down. They were tight, and I
realized they cut the circulation to my feet and hands. Trying to assess my
situation, I noticed the cold, flat surface beneath me and, as I turned my
head, the smallest bit of light crept into my line of vision.
I was blindfolded.
True panic had my blood pumping
hot and fast through my body, and I attempted to control my breathing, trying
to negate the effects of the agony in my side as well as my fear. I would never
find a release if I didn’t calm down.
With clearer perception now, I
noticed that the blindfold was thin, perhaps the black nylon of a pair of
pantyhose, and it had slipped ever so slightly, allowing that small amount of
light to shine just beneath it. Squinting and focusing until my eyes ached, I
made out fuzzy shapes through the blindfold. From my limited perspective, I
could tell that the room was larger than I’d first imagined, with tall
ceilings, and I heard the familiar humming of bright fluorescent lights. The
sound echoed the sensation in my body as I forced myself to ignore the
debilitating pain.
Turning my head to each side, I
took note of what appeared to be several small, cot-like, beds.
Hospital beds?
No, they were more like operating
tables...and I was on one of them. I couldn’t make out occupants on top of any
other beds, nor could I see anyone standing in the room I was in. But there was
a darker spot in a far corner, and the voices seemed to be coming from that
direction.
It must be another room.
Flexing my face and working my
eyebrows, I managed to continue moving the blindfold so that I had a little
more visibility. I tried one more time and got the entire thing shifted so it
only rested on my eyelids, barely affecting my ability to see. I could pick out
the two men standing in the frame of two open double doors, and I saw a tattoo
on one of them.
With the material still weighing
on my eyelids, it compromised my ability to see their upper bodies, but I
stared at the tattoo on the man’s calf, just below a pair of loose beige
shorts. It was shaped like a diamond, but the corner was too dim for me to
catch the details. I stared hard, making sure to burn the image into my memory.
I would use it to aid the police in finding my captor.
If I ever made it out of here
alive.
About the Author:
Published author and freelance writer/editor Candace Osmond was born in North York, ON. From there she began her journey of discovering Canada, moving every few years and experiencing what every province had to offer. She was surrounded and influenced by many cultures which broadened her mind and personality. Coming from a family of writers and artists dispersed throughout, it was inevitable that Candace follow in her family's footsteps. By the early age of ten years old, Candace had won numerous writing and art competitions including a nation wide art contest for the Louie the Lightening Bug Play it Safe Around Electricity program where the company used her winning ad design. A few years later Candace found herself writing for the local news flyer and then branching off into fiction writing.
Candace published her first book by the age of 25, the first installment in a YA Urban Fantasy to which two others were published with it; The Iron World Series.
Candace is one of the creative writers to www.sssh.com, an acclaimed Erotic Romance website for women which has been featured on NBC Nightline and a number of other large platforms. Her most recent project is a screen play that is pending a nomination for an AVN Award.
Aside from writing, Candace did manage to get her certification for Interior Design and Decor. After years of working with fellow designers, architects, and home owners, Candace won a Peak Award for Best Kitchen Design under $10,000.
Now residing in a small town in Alberta, CA with her husband and two kids, Candace writes full time, developing articles for just about every niche, two more novels, and a hoard of short stories.
Twitter: https://twitter.com/candaceosmond (handle is @candaceosmond)
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