Scott Nicholson does spooky like no one else I know, so what better way to kick off the month of Halloween than with his novel-The Home and an awesome giveaway!
Enter the Rafflecopter to win your choice of a Kindle Fire, Nook HD, or Kobo Glo, as well as signed books and audiobooks in the Home for Halloween giveaway from author Scott Nicholson.
The giveaway celebrates the launch of paranormal thriller The Home. Experiments at a group home for troubled children lead to paranormal activity—and the ghosts are from the home’s dark past as an insane asylum. In development as a feature, it’s available in ebook at Amazon US, Amazon UK, BN.com, Kobo, and Smashwords.
EXCERPT: THE HOME
By Scott Nicholson
(From Chapter 10)
Starlene loved Group. The setting was perfect for teaching socialization skills while also gaining the children’s trust. In group therapy, she could be a “facilitator,” though she hated that word for it. A facilitator was someone who was structured and inflexible, who “empowered” others while not taking much personal risk. She thought of her job as more like “witnessing,” showing others the blessings she’d discovered and which all could share in.
“Hey, guys,” she said, looking into each face in turn.
“You’re late,” Deke said.
“And I apologize. Adults have to apologize sometimes, too, don’t they, Freeman?”
Freeman winced, twitched one corner of his mouth, and said nothing.
“You going to make us talk about something, or do we just got to sit here for an hour?” Deke said.
“I think it’s better when we get things out in the open,” Starlene said.
“Because sharing is caring,” Freeman said.
She ignored his sarcasm. Many placements came to Wendover with a wall around their hearts. You couldn’t hammer through the wall; battering at it only made the wall stronger. Love was better. Love seeped through the cracks and melted the wall away, eroded its base until the stones crumbled. “We do care, Freeman.”
Deke glowered at Freeman, then at Starlene. He looked around the circle, at the children sitting in their straight-backed chairs, making sure he had an audience. “Not all of us care, Freaky Freeman.”
Starlene was about to quiet Deke, then decided the group dynamic might be more interesting if she let the children lead the discussion themselves. If only Deke’s natural leadership skills didn’t turn nasty so easily. Six years in therapy, according to the case file, and Deke was no closer to adjusting to society than he’d ever been. Still, the Lord and her professional obligation required her to have hope for him.
But patience was a demanding virtue. That was one of the warnings that her Psych teachers had burned home, that occasionally you’d feel like slapping little Johnny across the face. No matter that he had been abused and suffered a neurochemical imbalance and was diagnosed with an adjustment disorder, you sometimes had to wonder if a particular brand of vermin was, and always would be, a rat.
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