The History Major
Written by Michael Phillip Cash
After a vicious fight with her boyfriend followed by a night of heavy partying, college freshman Amanda Greene wakes up in her dorm room to find things are not the same as they were yesterday. She can't quite put her finger on it. She's sharing her room with a peculiar stranger. Amanda discovers she's registered for classes she would never choose with people that are oddly familiar. An ominous shadow is stalking her. Uncomfortable memories are bubbling dangerously close to her fracturing world, propelling her to an inevitable collision between fantasy and reality. Is this the mother of all hangovers or is something bigger happening?
Available at Amazon: http://amzn.to/21xUmE9
Chapter 1
Amanda
Greene lay facedown on the bed, her nose squashed against the scratchy
blanket. She became aware of the smell first—musty, with the hint of
sourness that comes from too much vodka on an empty stomach. She
sniffed, rubbed her aching eyes, and then rolled up, the light sending
darts of pain all the way to the middle of her fuzzy brain.
Groaning,
she fell back and tried in vain to pull the thin cover over her gummy
eyes. It was trapped beneath her body, but she continued to tug
crankily.
“Shut
the lights off, Danielle,” she wailed, surprised that her voice was
this thin, reedy thing. She tossed restlessly, something hard digging
into her thigh. She shifted, causing it to dig deeper. That’s going to bruise,
she thought absently. Reaching beneath her leg, she pulled out her
phone. Swiping her finger across the surface, she squinted. She propped
herself onto her elbow and looked at the smudged face of her cell.
Seventeen missed calls.
She scrolled down; more than half were from her
mother. What does she want? Amanda
groaned, her head falling back heavily onto the mattress. They had only
just reconnected, and now her newly divorced mother wouldn’t leave her
alone.
“Danielle,”
she said. “Kaitlyn?” She called for her two best friends. Her knee
throbbed. She rubbed it absently, the skin raw and sensitive. Her rib
cage screamed when she moved. Ugh, what did I do to myself? she wondered.
The
phone vibrated impatiently in her hand. She looked at the illuminated
screen, disappointment blooming in her sore chest when she recognized
the number was not Patrick’s. Her mother. Again. Really, her mother had
virtually ignored her for four years after Amanda moved back with her
dad. It had taken her mother’s second divorce and the death of her
beloved grandmother for them to reconnect at all. It hadn’t been all
peaches and cream, either.
Just recently they had developed a wary sense
of appropriate—unless there was a phone involved, apparently. Her
mother never understood boundaries. Amanda threw her phone onto the
floor, wincing when it made a crunchy sound.
Something
fluttered from the corner of her eye. It changed the quality of the
light in the room, playing with the shadows for a second. She raised her
impossibly heavy head and looked through squinting eyes, but she
couldn’t quite see anything. Her head was loaded, as though it weighed
too much. It fell back onto the tousled sheets. Movement by the window
competed with her attention again, but she didn’t have the strength to
look at it.
Her belly spasmed with anxiety, and inexplicably, her
eyelids prickled as if she were going to cry. She stretched her right
hand to the messy side table, searching for her antacids, but her
fingers fumbled with her collection of pill containers, all of them
empty. She cursed long and loud, throwing the amber-colored container
against the wall with a loud crack. Patrick had said he would reorder
her prescription.
He always took care of her, reminding her to renew her
megastrength stomach meds and antianxiety pills. Yeah, well, that was before yesterday,
she thought angrily. Her bottom lip trembled, but she fought the
feelings of hurt and despair with deep, painful breaths. She sucked in
air through her nose and exhaled slowly through her mouth. It left her
lightheaded, the gut-wrenching, twisting pain persisting.
Praise
"Cash never shies away from tough topics and themes; however, in The History Major his exploration of certain thematic elements goes deeper than usual. His love of history combined with a keen sense of human nature has provided a riveting story that deals with trauma, grief, acceptance, and finding inner strength. Cash has created a multi-dimensional experience between plot and character through the exploration of dreams and historical figures. He has created a riveting sense of perplexity that lingers long after the last page and author's note.”—Bianca Schulze, Book Reviewer
"Cash intermingles beauty and violence ...It's smartly ambiguous and open to interpretation, and some may delight in a second (or third) read." —Kirkus Reviews
About Michael Phillip Cash
Michael Phillip Cash is an award-winning screenwriter and novelist. He’s written eleven books including the best-selling Brood X, Stillwell, The Flip, The After House, The Hanging Tree, Witches Protection Program, Pokergeist, and Battle for Darracia series. Michael resides on the North Shore of Long Island. He writes full-time with his screaming monsters in the background.
Enter to win an autographed copy of The History Major, by Michael Phillip Cash; plus a Google Chromebook!
One (1) winner receives the grand prize:
- A copy of The History Major autographed by Michael Phillip Cash.
- An Asus Chromebook C201.
Value: $179.99
Three (3) winners receive:
- A copy of The History Major autographed by Michael Phillip Cash.
Value: $10.99
Giveaway begins March 1, 2016, at 12:01 A.M. PST and ends March 31, 2016, at 11:59 P.M. PST.
How to enter:
- Fill out the required fields in the form below. It may take a moment to load.
This giveaway is sponsored by Michael Phillip Cash.
thanks for the excerpt and review -- so keeping fingers crossed I win the google chromebook -- that would be awesome
ReplyDeleteThe book sounds awesome! The chromebook is an amazing prize, and I'd be thrilled to win it, but I'd be super happy just to win a signed book. Thanks for the amazing giveaway chance!
ReplyDelete