Blog Tour + Giveaway: Shift Work (Nigtht Shift #1) by TA Moore


Welcome author TA Moore as she visits on the Shift Work (Night Shift #1) blog tour! The author visits and with gifts readers with an exclusive short story chapter! And enter in the $10 Amazon gift card giveaway too!  

 
Title: Shift Work

Publisher: Rogue Firebird Press

Release: March 19

Link: https://books2read.com/ShiftWorkNightShiftBookOne


Blurb:
You'd think the werewolves would be the worst thing about the Night Shift; you'd be wrong.

All Officer Kit Marlow wanted was a cup of coffee and some downtime before his next night shift. Instead, he got a naked man in the elevator and an unaccounted-for dead girl in the morgue. He's going to need to deal with both before he can head for his bed.

Or anyone else's. Although not much chance of that.

Reluctantly partnered with the acerbic security consultant Cade Deacon—last seen naked in the elevator—Marlow delves into the dead girl's life. Between them, they uncover a new crime scene with the whiff of old corruption. A corruption that, five years ago, nearly took Marlow's life and ended his career.

Finding out who killed the dead girl on the slab might only be the start of this investigation. Oh, and it's the second night of the full moon. So 80% of the city, including Cade, will turn into werewolves in the middle of the case.

So, there's that.

Tour:

 
First of all, thank you so much for having me! I’m thrilled to be here with my new release, Shift Work by TA Moore. It’s a novella. It’s a longish novella, but still a novella. It’s the first book in a three book series that will be coming out over the next….three months. So that’s easy! Well, for you. I’m going to have no nails left.

For the blog tour I’ve written a short story set in the Night Shift world. I hope you enjoy!

Chapter Four


“David-20,” Marlow tried the radio again. “David-20. We have a situation here.”

No one came back to him. Blood soaked up through the tarp and welled between his fingers.

Beth pulled on his arm with weak fingers. He looked down at her. Tears welled up in her eyes, squeezed out from under the puffy lid on the bruised shut one.

“I just wanted to stop,” she said. “They wouldn’t let me. Annie said it would work. If she came with me.”

Marlow bit his lower lip. “Is Annie a wolf, Beth?” he asked.

She didn’t answer him. That was probably answer enough. Shit. Marlow ducked his chin down to run his chin against his shoulder as he tried to work out his options. It was possible that Annie had made it outside, and the team had dealt with her. But it was also possible she hadn’t. There were a lot of wolves in the city tonight.

Annie could still be in the building, along with whoever ‘they’ were.

“Beth?” Marlow said. “I need to go find them. You need to put pressure on your injury. Hold this in place, okay?”

“It was just meant to scare them,” Beth sobbed. Her hands slid limply away from her stomach and flopped onto the ground. “Annie just wanted to help me.”

Marlow grabbed her chin and made her look at him. She was a pretty kid. Her hair was bleached to straw under the pink dye, but her teeth were straight, and her skin was good. She could have been tricked out, but his money was that someone had gotten her selling drugs for them. Null kids made good mules. The only cops out tonight were Night Shift, and as long as no-one shot up in front of them, they didn’t care about drug crime.

“If she kills someone, that’s murder,” he said.

Beth pinched her mouth together sullenly. “Prove it,” she said.

“I’ll make a point of it,” Marlow said. He took her hand and put it back over the makeshift bandage. He pressed down on it until she flinched. “Now keep that in place while I make sure I don’t have to.”

She finally cooperated.

Marlow gave her shoulder an awkward pat and scrambled to his feet. He pulled his gun and held it low at his side as he followed the spray of blood over the floor. The sound of the city outside—distant howls, alarms, the screams of dying deer—filtered through the walls. He tuned it out and tried to concentrate on sounds that were closer to hand.

A door slammed.

The sound echoed oddly off the high ceilings, but Marlow thought it was to the right. He broke into a loping run toward it, through tables piled with towels and into stacks of home appliances still in boxes.

Something dark and moving reflected in the shiny bowl of a stand mixer. It saved his life. Marlow threw himself to the side without thinking about it. He hit the ground hard, a jolt of pain through his shoulder as it hit a shelf on the way down, and the wolf’s paw smashed through the air where he’d been.

The stack of boxes went flying. Marlow got his arms up to push them away from his face, the corners sharp and hard as they hit his forearms. The stand mixer hit the ground next to him, polished bowl dented and candy-pink shell cracked open.

Marlow grabbed the handle, cold against his palm, and swung as the wolf pounced at him. It caught her on the side of the head, hard enough to crumple the metal past any resale, and Marlow scrambled backward until he could get to his feet.

Never get in close with a wolf. The academy had only been a month ago. He shouldn’t have forgotten the lessons yet. Wolves don’t lose wrestling matches; the key was to stay just out of reach and wear them down.

Easier when you had a squad at your back.

The wolf screamed and smashed the ground. Thick fingers, tipped with long, black claws, tore up the tiles in splinters and sharp-edged chunks. Her head jerked up, and she swung it around, mouth open to show ragged rows of teeth, and her ears pricked.

Her eyes were blood red and filmed over, scabs of green crusted along the lids, and the skin around them was raw and blistered.

Author Bio:

TA MOORE


TA Moore is a Northern Irish writer of romantic suspense, urban fantasy, and contemporary romance novels. A childhood in a rural, seaside town fostered in her a suspicious nature, a love of mystery, and a streak of black humour a mile wide. As her grandmother always said, ‘she’d laugh at a bad thing that one’, mind you, that was the pot calling the kettle black. TA Moore studied History, Irish mythology, English at University, mostly because she has always loved a good story. She has worked as a journalist, a finance manager, and in the arts sectors before she finally gave in to a lifelong desire to write.

Coffee, Doc Marten boots, and good friends are the essential things in life. Spiders, mayo, and heels are to be avoided.

Website: www.tamoorewrites.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/TAMoorewrites/
Twitter: @tamoorewrites

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