PEARL Award Honorable Mention!
2007 Romantic Times Reviewers Choice Award Nominee!
Times BOOKreviews Top Pick!
4 -1/2 STARS!
"Quirky, offbeat and packed with gritty action, this
blistering novel explodes out of the gate and never looks
back. Counting on Sinclair to provide top-notch science fiction
elaborately spiced with romance and adventure is a given,
but she really aces this one! A must-read, by an author who
never disappoints." – Romantic Times BOOKreviews magazine
I love this book. Linnea Sinclair melds a fantastic, fast-paced
plot with compelling characters and delivers a wonderful read!" –Robin
D Owens, RITA award winning author of Heart Quest and Protector of the Flight
its tongue-in-cheek title to its melding of romance and zombie-killing
action, there's little in Sinclair's newest sci-fi romance
that doesn't surprise, grip or entertain… Sinclair's strong
characterizations and methodical plotting… make the book an
unexpected treat." - Publishers Weekly
"...Plenty of action
and adventure, nice touches of humour, great world building,
and two very engaging leads in Theo and Jorie create a perfect
blend that SF romance fans are sure to enjoy." - BookLoons
"Linnea Sinclair invades Earth with a rip-roaring, genre-bending,
edge-of-your-seat read that has it all: crackling action,
monsters, double-crossers, unlikely heroes, and a fully realized
love story. I loved it!" - Susan
New York Times bestselling author of How to Lose an Extraterrestrial in 10 Days
knew zombie killing could be so darn fun? And so darn sexy.
Linnea Sinclair writes worlds so real you feel like you're
there, wiping the sweat from your brow with one hand while
holding your weapon ready with the other. Reading her stories
is an experience like no other. I love it!"
- Colby Hodge, award-winning author of the Star series
is a romance? Is it sci-fi fantasy? Is it satire? Linnea Sinclair’s The Down Home Zombie Blues is all three.
Most of all, it is great fun....Through her dynamic and well-conceived
major characters, her rounded supporting cast, her engaging
and far-ranging vision, her narrative skill, and her playful
tone, Linnea Sinclair has provided a lively and provocative
entertainment." - Naples Sun Times "Book Beat"
"Linnea Sinclair creates fast-paced, riveting stories
that are a thrill a minute, with gritty, memorable characters
who will leave you clamoring for more." ~Bonnie Vanak,
bestselling author of The
Sinclair has a smashing success in The Down Home Zombie
Blues... This is one of the best reads I’ve had in
years! Good SF, good romance, and great characters in really
challenging relationships." –Jacqueline
Lichtenberg, author of Dreamspy and Sime~Gen: The Unity Trilog
The Down Home Zombie Blues
The first thing Theo realized was that he itched all over. The second was that somehow—in the blink of an eye—he’d gone from a horror movie in his back yard to the middle of a Star Trek set. He was on a platform facing a bank of computer screens and a short console. In front of the console were a group people in green and black uniforms. Two were clearly not human. One looked a bit like a short, curly-haired Wookie. No, that was Star Wars. Wrong movie. The other was… his vision hazed. His head spun. His body tingled relentlessly. He knew with sickening certainty he was moments from passing out.
He locked his knees. Someone grabbed his arm, steadying him as he sucked in a deep breath. Something slid through his fingers. The laptop. He turned then let it go because now, in the bright lights of this science fiction movie set, he couldn’t stop looking at the woman who took it away from him.
He saw her—or thought he saw her—in the uneven glare of the porch light over his backdoor. A teenager in some mismatched slam-jam outfit running towards him, hollering. He thought she was in trouble, needed help. The whole neighborhood knew he was a cop. He intended to grab her, try to calm her down when suddenly two beams of light burst from her hands.
That’s when he noticed the big green glowing hole in the night sky about twenty feet away.
Seconds later she was braced against him—her lithe, muscular body draped in odd equipment. Some kind of lens covered her right eye. He quickly discarded his initial impressions of teen and slam-jam. She looked like a member of a futuristic SWAT team.
And then he saw the… what had she called it? The zombie. Cristos! Worse than any images of the Kalikantzri from his childhood Christmases.
He went on autopilot after that. He hazily remembered damning himself for not putting his hip holster and gun back on immediately after changing his coffee-soaked clothes. He somewhat more clearly remembered taking some kind of gun from her. But mostly he focused on that towering abomination with glowing eyes and metal skin covered with crawling, writhing worms.
Understandably, he wasn’t focused on her, or what she looked like. Until now. She was sweaty, grass-stained, dirt-streaked. And she was unequivocally gorgeous. Exotic. Medium height, 5’5” or so, and slender but not skinny. Her skin color reminded him of honey. She had muscles. She had curves. Nice curves. His gaze traveled up from her cleavage to a heart-shaped face with dark-lashed eyes. And lips any Hollywood actress would pay big bucks to own. Lips he’d love to—
He blinked, hard. Slow down, Petrakos. Slow down.
Sounds, voices filtered back into his ears, making him aware he’d been temporarily deafened. A tremor shook his body, subsiding as quickly as it had appeared. He was suffering from disorientation, delusions. Too many nights on call out resulting in lack of sleep, that’s all this was. In a moment, it would all disappear and he’d be back in his kitchen, popping the top off a nice cold can of orange soda he’d left standing on the counter. He intended to finish that off before heading back to the department with the sound system and Mr. Crunchy’s laptop.
He drew in a deep breath, then another. The itching sensation on his skin abated to a mild annoyance. But when the scene before him didn’t morph back into his familiar brown and yellow tones of his kitchen, reality began to stealthily creep back in.
And it wasn’t a reality he liked. He unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth and tried to speak. “What happened?” His voice sounded rough. Not surprising, given what his body felt like.
She glanced his way. She was a few feet in front of him, talking in a strange language to a woman with curly red hair, clad in the same kind of shorts and odd, one-sleeved shirt she wore but minus all the hardware. A short spate of more unintelligible words and she handed the laptop to the women then stepped back up onto the platform.
“Mine.” She reached for the gun he still held in his hand.
His cop senses kicked in. Instinctively he stepped back, raising it.
A pale-skinned man and that Wookie-looking one reacted, silver weapons appearing in their hands. Aimed at him. Tension laced the room. Another man and a dark-skinned, yellow-haired woman turned from their consoles, hands on the weapons at their hips.
“Mine,” the woman in front of him repeated.
He was outnumbered. He might be able to take two, three of them out, but his stomach was still doing somersaults. Even he could somehow convince his legs to run, he doubted he’d make it as far as the door alive. Unless, of course, this was some kind of elaborate practical joke. In which case, if he reacted with deadly force, innocent people could get hurt.
Every good cop knew there was a time to act and a time to wait, gather information. This, clearly, was not a time to act.
Gritting his teeth, he lowered the gun. The woman plucked it from his fingers. The weapons aimed at him disappeared into holsters. The low hum of conversation resumed.
The woman said something he couldn’t understand.
“No concerns. You’re safe here.”
Safe? Where was here? Hell, he was a detective. He should be able to find out that simple answer. “Where am I?” he asked, putting some firmness in his voice this time. At least, he thought he had. His head still wobbled. He shook it. Wrong move, Petrakos. That didn’t help
“Sakanah. Ship,” she said.
He listened for a moment to the other voices around him. Hers was the only one in the room he could understand. “Where?”
Well, hell, why not? his brain said as it completed yet another looping circle. It wasn’t like he had anything else to do. Still wobbling, he followed her off the platform, scratching at the prickling sensation on his arm...