KAREN’S KILLER BOOK BENCH: Welcome to Karen’s Killer Book Bench, where readers can discover talented new authors and take a peek inside their wonderful books. This is not an age-filtered site, so all book peeks are PG-13 or better. Come back and visit often. Happy reading!

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BLUE DOG
Cryptid Charisma
BY KAREN HULENE BARTELL

Blurb

BLUE DOG
Cryptid Charisma
BY KAREN HULENE BARTELL

Excerpt

“Can’t see a thing…” I squinted through the downpour. Wipers going full speed, I swiped at the windshield’s condensation.

When the cold front met the Gulf’s humid air, the skies erupted. What had been a sunny afternoon when I left Lafayette was now a white-knuckle nightmare. I turned on the lights and defroster, but neither helped visibility, and I slowed to twenty-five miles an hour.

“Great…” Muttering, I focused on the road’s center line and cleared a peephole through the fogged windshield. Slowing to twenty miles an hour, I fumed at the pace. I’d gotten a late start thanks to an ad hoc meeting with the department chair. Now this…hope Kim doesn’t worry…she has enough on her mind.

My favorite aunt had torn a tendon playing tennis. Though fiercely independent—solo ager, she called herself—she needed help after her rotator cuff operation. The good news? With my summer break just starting, I could lend a hand while finishing my dissertation.

Finishing? I sniffed. Not only haven’t I started it, but I don’t have a topic.

Thanks to Kirk…the jerk. If only he hadn’t—“Gah! Why did he have to come to mind?” Struggling to see, I smeared the dripping condensation, wishing I could wipe him from my thoughts as easily. If I could just—

A jolt through the steering wheel raced up my arms, knocking my teeth together. “What was that?” I swerved off the road and checked my rearview mirror. Did I hit a log? An animal? A pothole? Looking through the dense rain was like looking into sleet—a total whiteout.

A loud, low-pitched rumble shook the air, startling me.

My focus switched to my face while the background blurred. Panicked hazel eyes stared back above high cheekbones, framed by a shock of blonde, chin-length hair.

The air vibrated with another louder, powerful thrum. Even through the closed windows, the sound juddered off my ribcage.

“Rolling thunder?” I cracked the window to listen.

A third bellow resonated through the rain.

“Is that a bull snorting?” I shifted into reverse and inched backward, checking to make sure I hadn’t injured an animal. But after finding nothing, I rolled to a stop.

A deafening bolt of lightning struck nearby, blinding me as it split a live oak tree and curled the hairs on my left arm.

Then a dark figure dashed across my bumper, bellowing as it fled into the downpour.

Adrenaline coursed through my veins as my pulse beat in time with the windshield wipers. I floored the gas, fishtailing as I sped past the vertically split tree toward Creve Coeur, Louisiana.

About Author Karen Hulene Bartell…

Links to Karen’s websites, blogs, books, #ad, etc.:

Dr. Karen Hulene Bartell, PhD

Amazon/Blue Dog:
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0H5X15M1P