Nominated for BEST INDIE FIRST BOOK by Indie RomCon
Amazon Bestselling Author Kim Hornsby
Without a recovered body Tina Greene can't accept the presumed surfing death of her husband, Hank. Months after signing
146 Reviews on AMAZON- Mostly 5 STAR
REVIEWS
A mysterious skill that straddles the line between paranormal and
possible, a woman mourning her husband lost at sea, and the sunny embrace of
Maui all come together in an evocative narrative that quickly becomes a real
page-turner.
Lisa Costantino, Author of Maiden's Veil, Chanticleer Top
Pick Women's Fiction 2012
Kim Hornsby's "The Dream Jumper's Promise" is a fantastic,
compelling novel. It straddles the boundaries between genres - it's got elements
of romance, mystery, suspense and also the supernatural, and the author brings
them all together very satisfyingly.
James deBenedetto, Author of The Dream StudentChristine M. Fairchild, Author of Suspense/Thriller An Eye For Danger, The Goliath Conspiracy
Priced to allow anyone with a mobile device and three dollars, to have a copy
Also available in Print and soon to be available in Audible
Sample- The Dream Jumper's Promise
Chapter 1
A shadow moved past the front
window of Tina and Hank’s Dive Shop. The door opened, the overhead bell jingled,
and a Maui Cop entered the store. The uniform, gun at the hip, even his
downcast eyes were all familiar sights. In the last ten months, Tina had seen
more than she wanted of Maui ’s finest, and
they hadn’t come through when she most needed them.
“The sharks will get the body,”
they’d said.
Everyone believed Hank was dead,
but she wasn’t convinced. Not yet, even though the search had been abandoned
after only one hundred and sixty-eight hours—ten thousand and eighty
excruciatingly long minutes of hoping.
Her dog, Obi, trotted over to the
policeman, as if the man wasn’t seconds away from pounding another nail in
Hank’s empty coffin.
“We found your husband’s wallet.”
The leather in the cop’s outstretched hand was a small but powerful reminder of
Hank. Memories meteored towards her—his gypsy-black hair and twinkling eyes. At
the beach, driving his truck, smiling from their bed.
She cupped the wallet in her
small hand and closed her fingers around its edges. For all that remained of a
dynamic man, it was surprisingly light.
“Where?” She tucked a wayward
strand of hair behind her ear.
“Off the path, above
Honolua."
No one takes a wallet surfing. “Thanks.” It would hold his credit
cards, medical insurance card, driver’s license, dive instructor card, all part
of Hank’s life on Maui. A life he’d cherished. Married only sixteen months, would a man simply abandon his wife and a
charmed life in Hawaii
without a word?
The faint chugging of the air
compressor in the shop’s back alley broke through her thoughts. Katie, her shop
girl, was in the back alley filling scuba tanks. Tina looked around to see the
policeman had gone. She pulled the driver’s license from its slot and grains of
sand fell, sand that Hank might have touched before he went into the water that
day.
“Did I hear you talking to someone?” Katie
popped in from the back room, her blond hair swinging.
“Police.” Tina held up the wallet.
“Hank’s.”
Katie froze.
Someone barely of drinking age
would know little of consoling a thirty-four-year-old widow. “Katie, can you do
the coffee run now? I’ll finish filling the tanks if you’ll get me a double.”
Tina needed something and she hoped it was just coffee.
She walked through to the back
alley and lowered herself to sit on an overturned milk crate, waiting for the
group of submerged scuba tanks in a metal trough to fill to 3000 psi. Leaning
against the wall, her gaze drifted towards the sky. The gray clouds held in the
humidity like a wool blanket, and sweat trickled down the small of her back
into the waistband of her board shorts.
This new turn of events didn’t
completely eliminate the possibility that Hank might have faked his own death.
He was smart enough to know credit cards were useless to someone who wanted to
disappear. Still. The wallet felt cool in her hand. She’d have to tell Noble it
turned up. Open that bag of snakes. Poor Noble.
She extracted a picture tucked
into a fold of the wallet and a stab of loneliness shot through her. In it she
and Hank were smiling from a sun-drenched, black-sand beach in Hana. She fit
perfectly into the curve of his long, lean body. Like phantom pain in an
amputated leg, the memory of how it felt to tuck in under his shoulder lingered.
They’d driven to the sleepy town of Hana ,
that day, with their best friend Noble and a girlfriend, hoping to take a break
from the craziness of the Lahaina scene. Back when she knew he loved her,
beyond any doubt.
But now there was doubt.
Especially when days before his death, he’d said, “No matter what, always
remember how much I love you.” She’d thought he was worried about how their
relationship would change when she got pregnant, a plan they were working on
with feverish diligence. “Silly man,” she said, kissing him.
Tina tucked the photo back in the
wallet. Memories would drive her crazy if she didn’t get a grip soon. A deep
breath revealed the scent of plumeria flowers from the tree across the laneway
at Mr. Takeshimi’s house.
Watching the elderly neighbor
sweeping the porch of his pristine cottage, his broom swishing a gentle rhythm,
she called out. “Hey, Mr. T.”. He was a fighter, still holding onto his real
estate despite million-dollar offers. Hank’s plan had been to buy the house and
open an art gallery. But now she was in debt and that plan was long forgotten.
Someone would come along eventually and make it a tacky T-shirt shop. Or a
competing dive shop.
When Mr. T. straightened, Tina
increased her volume. “Big storm coming in."
He nodded. “Doesn’t scare me.”
No, it wouldn’t. He’d endured
World War II as a Japanese American in Hawaii .
Sixty-one years after the Pearl Harbor attack,
he was sweeping his porch. He stared at her, his face a question in waiting.
“Me neither.” She tried to
believe in her own words.
Mr. Takeshimi nodded, as if this
explained something. “Fall seven times and stand up eight, Tina.” Japanese
proverbs lived on the tip of his tongue. He’d once said, “Good things
come to those who wait,” and then Hank came into her life.
She stood. “I’m up. Thanks, Mr.
T.” She smiled his way, knowing he’d worry without it.
Back in the shop, Tina met the
gaze of a fist-sized octopus in one of the aquariums. Staring directly into the
cephalopod’s eyes, she tried to convey an apology. Five days in an aquarium was
too long for an intelligent creature. “I’ll see you get released today. I’m
sorry it’s been so long, Mr. Oc.”
It was eight a.m. Time to open
the store for the day. Flipping the wall switch, she illuminated all six fish
tanks to create the underwater look to her Lahaina Towne shop. Over two years
before, Hank had installed the wall of sixty-gallon aquariums to stylize the
store and lure customers in. Even during the recent shutdown, the tanks had
been maintained and viewed through the windows, still colorful, the fish
vibrant, even though Hank was dead.
Walking around the room, she
noticed the octopus watching her. Its scrutiny made her feel like she was not
only being watched, but judged. A ridiculous thought. She tilted her head and
contemplated what it must be thinking. “Being caged sucks,” she said, not
necessarily to the octopus.
The pit mix, Obi Wan, bared his
teeth in a smile, his usual reaction to any word ending in ‘uck.’ “It’s okay.
Mommy’s having a good day.” She scratched behind her dog’s ears, his favorite
spot, and then moved to the back room. Tucking the wallet in the top drawer of
her messy desk, her palm lingered on the metal front in silent apology to Hank
for shutting him away.
“Here, Boss.” Katie entered the back room and
then set the double espresso with extra sugar on the desk. Ever since her
boyfriend, Ned confessed that her constant talking drove him crazy, Katie had
been trying to use fewer words.
“Thanks, Katie.”
Katie hovered over Tina, her smile
hinting at all the unspoken sentences rattling around inside her mouth.
Tina arched her brows in question.
“Just say it Katie. I won’t tell Ned.”
“Uncle Jamey’s coming today.” The
words shot from Katie’s lips like dice thrown on a table.
“Your uncle from Seattle ?” She nodded. “My
offer stands. Tell him he can dive free on slow days.” A soldier on leave from Afghanistan
could dive on her nickel any day there was space. “He might have to wait until
this Kona storm blows through.” Bad conditions would put a halt on diving for
the next few days. Katie beamed and skipped into the next room, a sunny
influence to have around.
Tina took a sip of the steaming
coffee and wondered which problem to tackle first. The desk was littered with
bills and phone messages from creditors but before she could open another
letter from the bank, Katie’s scream made her fly out of her chair and run into
the next room. She rounded the doorway to see a man grab Katie roughly and lift
her off her feet. The scream turned to a squeal that ended in a giggle. This
was not Ned, who was lean and scruffy and always looked like he just woke up.
This was an adult--tall, with sandy-colored hair on the long side of a crew cut
and muscular arms. His crisp white T-shirt reading Maui Parasail stretched
across a broad back.
“I can’t believe you’re here.”
Katie pulled away from the hug. “I miss everyone, you know? How is everybody? I
mean really. How’s Dad and Grandpops?” She stopped to take a breath as her
resolve to use fewer words went flying out the window.
“Everyone’s good."
Katie did a little happy dance,
her smile stretching from ear to ear. “I hoped you’d call this morning. I was
just telling my boss that you’d come today. The diving isn’t looking good. I’m
sorry about the storm coming in and Tina said it’s not likely we’ll dive tomorrow
but the weather here can change in a few hours, just like Seattle .”
Tina stepped forward, knowing an
interruption would be necessary. “You’re Katie’s uncle, I presume.” She
extended her hand.
As the man turned to face her,
Tina froze. It had been a while, but she knew this person well enough to know
that when he slept on his back, he snored. And that he had a small birthmark
shaped like South America below his belly
button. Far below. She’d once pointed to Tierra del Fuego ,
and then inched southward, with her tongue.
His slightly lopsided smile was
achingly familiar and once so dear to her, her breath now caught in her throat
and produced a tiny warble that she hoped was inaudible. Even though she’d
changed in ten years, he must recognize her too. As their palms made contact,
Tina felt a powerful surge pass between them, almost like an electric shock.
Her eyes widened as a curtain of darkness moved in front of her vision and
blackness invaded.
“Kristina?” The familiar timbre
of James’ voice sounded far away, muffled, as she fought for consciousness.
Sinking to the floor, the last thing she felt was his arm moving behind her
back.
Curious? Check it out on Amazon!
The Dream Jumper's PromiseKim Hornsby is also the author of Best Selling Romantic Suspense novel Necessary Detour, published by The Wild Rose Press and available on Amazon, Sony, Kobo, iTunes, Nook, in print and Audible Amazon.
