As part of the tour, Harlow has offered participants a chance to win any number of prizes. They include, but are not limited to:
Amazon Gift Cards
Book Lover Note Cards
Hunger Games Trilogy
So comment frequently today for a both a better chance to win, and more importantly, to get to know the author and learn more about her book. Let's see if we can get a conversation going! I know I'm intrigued just by the title. Life in Death - kind of gets you thinking doesn't it?
Anyway, enough babble from me. Let's begin with the leading question - who is Harlow Coban?
Author, Harlow Coban was born in Kansas City, MO but grew up in Denver, CO. She relocated to North Carolina five years ago with her husband, two dogs, and 16-year-old twins.
She shares a birthday with the notorious Napoleon Bonaparte. In keeping with his legacy, she is currently working on taking over the world. Harlow's positive attitude and fresh take on life are her tools and conquest is certain.
She spends her free time writing, dancing, traveling and defending mailboxes from her 16-year-old twins' driving.
In keeping with her commitment to improving the lives of children, a portion of the proceeds from the sale of her book will be donated to the Boys and Girls Club in her home state of North Carolina.
And now I'm turning it over to Harlow who kicks off with the sentence I posed for her to finish: Life hasn't been quite the same since.... The hitch is that the story must be about a trip. But that trip can be anything from a journey around the world to a jaunt to the corner store.
Life hasn't been quite the same since...Myrtle Beach
It was the Thursday before a weekend trip to Myrtle Beach. On a whim, I decided to get my hair done. My stylist was out of town, so I used a new stylist.
I had my shoulder length hair cut into a chin length bob. Upon seeing my reflection in the mirror, I had one thought: "Fred Flintstone wants his head back." I had no idea short hair could make your face look fat.
Next, I asked her to give me blonde highlights. Bad idea! I was speechless when she showed me her handiwork. The highlights were more like globs of color--canary yellow to be exact. My hair was ruined and I prayed for death.
I stopped at a store on the way home and picked up a hat. Tufts of yellow hair peeked out from underneath the brim. I simply could not hide my hideous hair.
My husband--a man of few words--had some for me: "Oh my god. What happened?" I cried all night.
The next morning, we drove to Myrtle Beach. I'd temporarily forgotten about my hair until I caught sight of myself in the hotel lobby mirror. I was horrified all over again. I needed a wig. Why hadn't I thought of that sooner?
We trolled Myrtle Beach for wig stores and finally found one. You could only try on three wigs per visit. I know, right? I selected the best of the three wigs I'd tried on and wore it out of the store. I felt better immediately.
We spent the remainder of the trip lounging on the beach and sightseeing. Somehow, my wig managed to stay in place as I rode a zip line.
I will never, ever, ever use a different stylist.
Bad hair days are no joke.
Blurb for Life In Death:
When a girl that social worker Kari Marchant places in foster care is brutally murdered, she's compelled to learn why. Her quest for the truth pits her against friends and coworkers. As Karl works to solve the horrific plot, more people die. She's been targeted for death and she doesn't even know it. How far should she go to learn the truth--even if it threatens her life?
When homicide detective Rance Nicolet meets Kari, his attraction to her is powerful--and the feeling is mutual. But things between them go terribly wrong when Kari's old lover is found murdered with a letter from her in his pocket. The evidence against Kari is damning. Rance's personal and professional lives collide. Does he blindly believe the woman he's falling in love with or follow the evidence no matter where it leads?
Excerpt from Life In Death:
"Frost. Call on line one." The voice boomed overhead and interrupted Scott Frost mid-climb. He jumped off his truck, pushed up the sleeves on his dingy green work shirt and walked to the phone mounted on the wall, his face a scowl of irritation.
He grabbed the receiver. "Hello."
"They found Patience," his wife, Andrea, whispered.
Mammoth garbage trucks rumbled and shook the walls as they rolled out into the street for the day's work, their giant bellies hungry for trash. Scott strained to hear his wife over the noise.
"I told you never to call me here."
"Do you know what they did to her?" Her voice rose an octave.
"Hold it together." He clenched his fist and resisted the impulse to smash it through the wall. "She's the one who ran off."
"She didn't deserve that. Nobody deserves that."
The phone slipped a bit in his sweaty hand. Tolerance had never been one of Scott's virtues, and what little he did have waned with each whiny word his wife uttered. "It'll all be over soon, you know that."
"They won't let us out."
He gnashed his teeth together until the noise in his head drowned out the roar of garbage trucks. The pumping of his heart escalated and Scott imagined he could feel his blood pressure rising.
"Damn it, Andrea, take a valium. These people are dangerous. They'll kill us if we flake out."
and her website - www.harlowcoban.com.