Constance Phillips
A Paranormal Romance,
246 pages
Crescent Moon Press
In order to save Bess from
self-destruction, Harry Houdini puts his afterlife on the line by entering a
wager with purgatory’s keeper. He gives Harry a younger face and body, and a
new name: Erich Welch.
Bess clings to his promise to
deliver a coded message from beyond the grave, determined to provide the bridge
for him to cross, even if that means befriending her husband's sworn enemy.
Erich needs to help Bess over her
loss and put her on the road to healing, but will any good come from
resurrecting Harry?
Buy links
Amazon Kindle: http://www.amazon.com/Resurrecting-Harry-ebook/dp/B00BLBKDDQ/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1361977605&sr=8-1&keywords=Resurrecting+Harry
Barnes and Noble (print/Nook): http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/resurrecting-harry-constance-phillips/1114721629?ean=9781939173133
Excerpt:
For Harry Houdini, failure wasn't an option.
Being closed into the old
steamer trunk didn't faze him, not even when the familiar sound of a padlock
clanking in place echoed in his ear. When water began to seep through the
seams, most men would panic, but years of experience pushed down the instinct.
He knew his faithful assistant and wife, Bess, had slipped into the spotlight
to distract the crowd and raise the tension, just like they'd practiced for
hours and performed dozens of times.
While the fans anticipated the
worst, he took a slow and measured breath and prepared for several minutes
without oxygen.
Harry focused on his center
from behind veiled lids and used every last bit of strength to extend his legs.
The side of the trunk he'd carefully loosened the night before popped off, and
the water now rushed in. With cuffed hands, he felt along the lid, guiding
himself out. His hooked pinky swiped the key from beneath his tongue, but the
metallic taste remained.
Lifting his legs, he made short
work of the shackles binding his ankles and then arched his back, reaching
toward the surface. In seconds, the cuffs securing his wrists fell away too.
All that was left was to break
the surface and claim his reward. The roar of the crowd and Bess's loving arms
were the only two things that thrilled him more than defying death. Her and his
fans gave him the drive to succeed.
Light faded away, as if rain
clouds covered the sun or as if he was sinking further away from his
destination.
His world spun like a child's
top. A pulse thumped in his ear and molten-hot blood pumped through his veins.
Pure adrenaline fueled the glimpses of his past, which flashed by like the
slides his brother, Theo, showed after every vacation. But Harry wasn't
watching the events unfold; he relived the memories over and again.
The spinning stopped. He now
hung upside down, wrapped tighter than a Christmas present. His Chinese Water
Torture Chamber, a straight jacket and the stage of the Orpheum Theatre; Harry
might as well be safe at home in bed. He'd free himself from the binds as soon
as he pushed his shoulder out of joint.
With a pop, this faded to white
too.
Always trapped. Never escaping.
No reward.
The spinning continued, like a
phonograph record.
Shivers raked his body. In the
distance, he could hear a doctor offering comfort and explaining to a sobbing
Bess that hope was lost.
Harry saw nothing, just
shuddered and listened. Icy water enveloped him; his neck rested on the frosty
cast-iron tub. No matter how many times he relived it, he still believed his
infection would clear and the fever would break. He may have stood in the
shadow cast by the angel of death, but he still denied the inevitable. A burst
appendix destroy the great Harry Houdini, master escape artist and expert
showman? Never. When the lights fell on his final performance, something
grander than illness would extinguish his flame.
Swallowing hard, he fought the
quiver in his lips and tried to call out for Bess. Her touch to his cheek would
provide the needed strength. The only vision that ever played out completely:
he whispered her name and watched his own chest rise and fall for the last
time.
Spinning. Spinning.
The cold vanished, his pain
dissipated, but the mental torture never ended. Over and over he experienced
his greatest challenges, but not the successes. Never completing an escape and
returning to Bess's embrace kept him lonely and devastated. What had he done to
deserve such torment, and for how long would this agony continue?
Harry always believed in ashes
to ashes. When his heart stopped, his mind would too. Anything else seemed
impossible, but now he knew different. This was Hell.
But what of the fire and
brimstone ol' man Thomas used to preach about on the corner?
As a child, Harry's sainted
mother would rush him past Seventh and Main where the elderly man testified to
the world. She'd whisper passages from the Torah and remind him his main
concern should be this life. Despite his mother's dislike for the reverend, he
taught Harry a valuable lesson that would stick with him his whole life: give
people a show.
Would it disappoint the
preacher to know that, despite what the scriptures said, Hell didn't torture
the body with never-ending fires, but focused on the mind? Harry knew this was
worse.
His stomach heaved to and fro.
Bile bubbled in his gut and pushed its way up, burning his throat, but the
relief vomiting would bring never came.
Why won't the spinning stop? Maybe
because he allowed it to continue. Change comes from within. That's how he
lived his life: for every action, a reaction. Why should death be different?
No more complacency.
He tightened his muscles and
stretched his body as taut as possible. "STOP!"
Spinning. Spinning. As
if he was embedded on a reel-to-reel film and someone had pushed rewind, but he
was through being held at someone else's mercy. Again, he ordered an end to the
torture.
The loud clank of rusty gears
grinding together sounded, and he felt whatever force kept him tied to this
existence snap. His body plummeted and his arms thrashed; pleas turned to
screams. Maybe there was something worse than the status quo. Falling faster
now, he tensed his muscles and braced for the agonizing pain of hitting the
ground.
Soft and comforting instead,
like slipping into a feather bed and wrapping up in a patchwork quilt, he felt
ground beneath him. And serenity. An end to his anguish? He opened his eyes and
wondered if he'd see anything but his past. White padding adorned the walls and
the floor, like he'd seen in those mental hospitals he toured while concocting
his straightjacket escape.
But Harry wasn't crazy. He was
dead.
The air shifted; the
temperature rose. Sweat replaced the goose bumps that covered his arms. A body?
Harry touched the flesh to make sure it was real. The image of a floating soul
now shattered by this reality. Hot, humid air burned his lungs as he leaned
against the wall and looked up into the ice-blue eyes of a stranger, who loomed
a good foot taller than Harry and was wrapped in tight, black leather like the
blacksmiths he'd known in his youth or the cowboys he'd first met out west.
Long, black hair veiled the stranger's face. He lit a cigarette and threw his
head back, inhaling deeply and giving Harry another look at those bizarre eyes.
A shiver rode his spine. "My God."
A bubbling laugh erupted from
the giant. "Not bloody likely."
**Nominated for A Grave Tells 2013
Reader’s Choice Award in the Sugar Shock Category
Reviews
A touching tale that delves into love, responsibility, loyalty, death
and grief. I’m going to have to read more on Houdini now. Such a fascinating
character! – Shawna Romkey, Author of Speak of the Devil
This charming tale of will make you laugh and cry. Told with such
emotive candor we watch as Harry disguised as Erich learns about love, trust,
and forgiveness. – Louann Carroll, Author of Gemini Rising
This book is truly one of the best love stories of the ages I have read.
So touching. – Kriss Morton of Cabin Goddess
This is an old-fashioned love story with a ghost story kind of twist. – Katie O’Sullivan, Author of Son of a Mermaid
Constance Phillips Bio
Constance is actively involved in her local Romance Writers of America chapter (MVRWA) and the Southeast Michigan chapter of the United States Pony Club. When not writing or enjoying the outdoors, she loves reality television or can be found at a Rick Springfield concert (just look for the pink Converse high tops).
Constance blogs regularly at www.constancephillips.com. You can also follow her on Twitter or friend her on Facebook.
Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/phillipsconnie/
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Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6470282.Constance_Phillips
My Review:
This book was very interesting because I got to read about Houdini like I never have before. There was such an emotional bond between Harry and Bess that I felt so bad for Bess, when Harry died. It was interesting to read about how Harry was trying to save Bess's future, and to redeem himself. I really liked the description of the after life. I am giving this book a 5/5. I was givn a copy to review, however all opinions are my own.
This book was very interesting because I got to read about Houdini like I never have before. There was such an emotional bond between Harry and Bess that I felt so bad for Bess, when Harry died. It was interesting to read about how Harry was trying to save Bess's future, and to redeem himself. I really liked the description of the after life. I am giving this book a 5/5. I was givn a copy to review, however all opinions are my own.
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