Blog Tour: The Ties That Bind by Heather O’Brien

38406511_2152583574966638_68379396930535424_n.jpg

★★ BLOG TOUR ★★

 

The Ties That Bind by Heather O’Brien is #LIVE!!

33180070_618445975156085_3350281005792493568_n.jpg

Publisher: @Thewordverve Inc
Cover Designer: Scott Perry with Artist for Hire
Editor: Megan Harris

#OneClick

AMAZON: https://amzn.to/2MZi9v6

THEWORDVERVE: https://thewordverve.com/shop/the-ties-that-bind/

iTUNES: https://apple.co/2Br9uAl

GOOGLE: https://goo.gl/5XFZN2
B&N: https://bit.ly/2OOBEHc
KOBO: https://bit.ly/2OOI35d

39625147_1839037922818805_6559512407956258816_n.jpg

Add to your TBR: https://bit.ly/2nOtEdX

Check out the Book Trailer: https://youtu.be/a3kKeraDyYk

BLURB

Grab your backstage pass for an exclusive glimpse behind fame and fortune into the heart of rock ‘n roll. Explore the complex lives and loves of three musical families connected by secrets one man will kill to protect.

Farin O’Conner is making her dreams–well, her father’s dreams–come true. Driven by his memory as much as the nightmares over his mysterious death fifteen years ago, Farin is desperate to overcome her tragic childhood with a new contract, a new relationship, and a new life. Despite friends and family warning her of the pitfalls ahead, she soldiers on, determined to succeed at all costs. But will her past make demands her future can’t meet?

Jordan Grant is pop music’s biggest sensation and teen heartthrob. He has the looks, the talent, and the desire for a conventional life in an unconventional profession. With a young son whose existence is omitted from his public bio, a failed relationship with Hollywood’s hottest starlet, and the pressure of his oldest brother to leave LA for good, he has difficult decisions to make. When he meets Farin, he believes he can have it all. And he does…but not for long.

Jameson Lockhardt, mega-mogul and career maker, has created an empire other record labels envy. An empire built on a foundation of blood, and fortified by manipulation and greed. A distant father and merciless businessman, those around him are shocked when he takes an instant–if unnatural–interest in Farin’s career. Under his care, Farin gets everything she ever wanted…and much more than she bargained for.

Music is murder. Long live rock ‘n roll.

39747752_1838916819497582_4290554487686299648_n.jpg

EXCERPT

Farin had been sleeping soundly when the police officers arrived at the O’Conner family home sometime after midnight that April evening. Blue flashing lights strobed against her peach colored lace curtains and abrupt, broken calls from the radio dispatcher alarmed her. She thought the house was being invaded by aliens.

Lights flooded her room in quick, soundless rhythm. She could not make sense of the series of letters, words, initials that called from the night air just outside her window.

“…2-Adam-14. What’s your 20?”

Challenging her fear and hoping to see a real live alien, Farin wiggled out of bed and stepped to the window of her second story bedroom. She parted the lace curtains and stared wild-eyed up into the sky. The blue radiance spun in circles, reflecting off the trees and trimmed yard, but no spaceship descended from the clear night sky. Confused, she followed the blue lights down to the sidewalk in front of her house where she spotted the single patrol car.

At that same moment, Farin heard a thunderous knock at the door. She had never been within a hundred yards of a real police car, let alone a real live policeman. Her daddy had many friends who were policemen, but she had never seen one all dressed up in uniform. Excited, she rushed back to her bed, threw on her robe, stepped into her slippers, and scampered to the top of the stairway.

She took a seat on the top step, folding her arms in her lap, barely able to contain her glee. She wondered what the policeman wanted to talk to her daddy about. Perhaps a monster terrorized her neighborhood! Her daddy would be the perfect person to help the policeman capture and kill the monster. He had killed many monsters that lived under her bed, and even the one in the basement. She giggled proudly at the thought. Her daddy was the strongest, bravest, most handsomest man in the whole wide world. He would be a hero after tonight, and the whole world would know it. She could hardly wait to tell Marci.

Farin saw her mother rise from her easy chair in the den, having set her book down on the end table beside her. She gathered the folds of her silk robe and tightened the belt as she went to the console stereo and turned down the volume. The melodious strains of Don McLean’s American Pie fell to background noise as her mother crossed the foyer and opened the front door.

 

… bad news on the doorstep

… I couldn’t take one more step

… I can’t remember if I cried

… when I read about his widowed bride …

 

Something about the officer’s somber disposition made Farin’s mother take two steps back as he entered, removing the hat slowly from his head and holding it with both hands at his waist. Outside the door, another patrolman waited to follow the first one inside. Farin could see only half of her mother’s face, but she grew inexplicably nervous as she watched the color drain from her mother’s beautiful features. Soon, both officers were inside, the latter having closed the door behind him.

Farin wrapped her arms instinctively around two of the wooden posts on the banister, peeking her small head between them. She realized then that she had not seen her father. She pondered his absence momentarily, then reasoned in her young mind that he had likely gone to bed hours ago. He had not made it home for dinner earlier and had missed tucking her into bed. He often worked late. The stairway gave little comfort compared to her daddy’s strong, loving arms, yet she sat frozen in place, curiously unable to get up and wake him from his bed.

A series of beeps came from the police car outside the house. The dispatcher’s voice spoke clearly through the radio’s static, “Standby all units to copy a 10-8-51 down at the pier…fifteen minutes ago.”

“Mrs. Kelley O’Conner?” the first officer asked somberly, gauging her reaction.

Beth O’Conner folded her arms tightly in front of her as if suddenly desperate for something to hold. She nodded silently, then unfolded one arm just long enough to tuck a stray tendril of long dark hair into the braid which fell down her back.

“I’m Sergeant Bill Kinsey with the Santa Barbara City Police Department.” He moved to the side and indicating the other uniformed officer just behind him. “This is Officer Sam Klein. I’m afraid we have some bad news for you, ma’am.”

The officers watched Beth, sizing up the present situation and assessing her demeanor before they proceeded. “Is there someone you’d like to call first? A neighbor perhaps? A friend or relative?”

Beth stood motionless, shaking her head absently as she stared into Sergeant Kinsey’s cheerless blue eyes. Her brow furrowed as her face adopted a look of panic. “Please,” she begged. “Tell me what’s happened. Tell me it’s not Kelley.”

Sergeant Kinsey’s head dropped slightly as his arms fell to his side. He searched the hardwood floor for the least painful words he could find. Protocol dictated that a female officer should accompany him to deliver this news, but tonight’s roster included none.

At last he faced her, his jaw set, his empathetic eyes hardening slightly into the professionalism expected of a police sergeant. “I’m sorry to inform you, Mrs. O’Conner, that your husband was involved in a motor vehicle accident at approximately ten forty-five this evening. His car was struck by another vehicle whose driver was intoxicated. I’m afraid your husband didn’t survive.”

In that split second, Beth O’Conner tested Sergeant Bill Kinsey’s dexterity. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she lost consciousness, nearly collapsing to the floor before Kinsey broke her fall, his hat dropping from his hands, bouncing once and landing upside down.

 

… and them good ol’ boys were drinking whiskey and rye

… singing, “This’ll be the day that I die

… “this’ll be the day that I die” …

 

Farin’s eyes grew twice their normal size as she saw her mother’s body go limp and fall. The uniformed stranger jumped and grabbed her mother around the waist. Policemen were supposed to be good people, protecting others from the bad in the world. These policemen scared her. They had hurt her mother.

“Mommy!” She bolted to her feet and took three steps down the staircase before locking eyes with the patrolman holding her mother in his arms.

Officer Sam Klein automatically moved his hand to his gun holster as the terror-struck cry erupted from above. He looked up to see the young child, dropped his hand, and exchanged a surprised glance with Kinsey.

“Leave my mother alone!” Farin took one more step down the staircase.

Officer Klein knew the situation warranted quick action. Beth O’Conner lay unconscious in Sergeant Kinsey’s arms. The child would have been ushered out of earshot before delivering the bad news had they known of her presence. The shock and terror in the girl’s eyes told him he needed to affect some damage control—quickly. He started up the stairs.

No!” Farin shrieked. She turned and ran as if her life depended on it. Her father needed to wake up and make the bad men go away. He needed to save her mother.

Farin hurried into her parents’ bedroom at the far end of the hall. She looked at the bed and fell momentarily silent. On her mother’s side, the blankets and sheets lay in disarray. On her father’s side, the pillow remained tucked neatly into the bedspread.

She stood in panicked and confused as her mind struggled desperately to make sense of her father’s absence from his bed. Visions of aliens and monsters filled her thoughts. Her father told her so many times that aliens and monsters did not exist. Where could he be?

“Daddy!” Farin wailed as she jumped up onto the bed and crawled from her mother’s side to her father’s. “Daddy! Help! Mommy’s in trouble! Where are you?”

On some level, she heard the policeman’s words pierce her consciousness. “…your husband was involved in a motor vehicle accident…I’m afraid…didn’t survive…”

“Daddy!” she screamed repeatedly, ripping the bedspread from beneath her. She knew her father slept in this bed, at this very moment. She must find him. She knew he had to hear her.

Farin ripped the electric blanket from beneath her as her heartbroken cries continued. “Daddy help!”

By the time Officer Sam Klein reached the O’Conners’ master bedroom, Farin had clawed every piece of bedding off the bed. He moved toward her cautiously, only half believing his own eyes.

“Daddy! No!” she wailed as the reality of the events started to overtake her. Her nails had ripped down to their nail beds, yet she continued clawing frantically as if believing in her frenzy that if she dug deep enough, she would somehow find him.

“It’s okay, honey,” Officer Klein told her in a kind yet firm voice as he approached the bed and came into Farin’s line of vision, his hand stretched out toward her.

“Leave me alone!” Farin abandoned her assault on the bed and scampered in desperation to the farthest point from the policeman.

“I’m not going to hurt you, honey,” he told her gently, strategically maneuvering himself into position in case she decided to run. “Let me take you downstairs. Your mother’s going to need you.”

When sorrow finally replaced Farin’s horror, she collapsed into a fetal position and sobbed hysterically atop the place in the bed where her father had slept just the night before.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Heather O’Brien is a fiction author and no stranger to the creative arts. The great-great-granddaughter of world-renowned cellist Bruno Steindel of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, she can trace back her creative roots to five generations of notable musicians, artists, and toy makers. Her family tree contains the branches of many disciplines of the finer arts.

A seeker of what motivates the heart, Heather has a knack for creating complex characters who explore the sometimes painful dynamics of life and love, choice and consequence, regret and reconciliation. Though her stories often take place in the entertainment industry, she infuses intense humanity into an industry perceived as lacking the very things that connect us. She describes her writing style primarily as that of a “panster” versus a “plotter,” but concedes the intricacies of the saga have forced her to become a hybrid for the remainder of its telling. Each of her books is heavily researched in order to create the most realistic telling possible.

Heather is a member of several professional organizations, including the National Association of Professional Women and the Alliance of Independent Authors. When hanging out with friends, she loves to talk story, writing, music, and movies. She is a wife, a mother of two, and a grandmother of three. To learn more, visit http://www.tiesthatbindsaga.com

SOCIAL MEDIA LINKS

Official Series website: https://www.tiesthatbindsaga.com
Facebook Series Fan Page: http://www.facebook.com/OfficialPageTheTiesThatBind
Facebook Author Page: http://www.facebook.com/realHeatherOBrien/
Twitter: @HOBrien_Author
LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/authorheatherobrien/
Goodreads Profile: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3318584.Heather_O_Brien
Amazon profile: https://www.amazon.com/author/heatherobrien
Google+ Author Profile: http://www.google.com/+HeatherOBrien_Author
Google+ Page Profile: http://www.google.com/+TiesThatBindSagaOfficialPage
Minds: http://www.minds.com/HeatherOBrien
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/HOBrien_Author/
YouTube: http://www.youtube.com/c/HeatherOBrien_Author
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/realheatherobrien/

This #BlogTour was hosted by Lexis Infinitum PR

7682082F-3494-4226-B001-E1A86AA04ADE

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.