Book Tour: Interview with author Artemis Hunt and The Body Snatcher Wears Lipstick’s Abby Watson
Help us welcome Artemis Hunt, author of The Body Snatcher Wears Lipstick, to GraveTells!
Abby, the body snatching heroine from the book, came along with Artemis today and they’ve both agreed to allow our reviewer Ash to grill them with questions. If you haven’t read our review of The Body Snatcher Wears Lipstick, check it out here!
GT: Thank you both so very much for your time today, ladies! 🙂
Excerpt: from The Body Snatcher Wears Lipstick
I’m on Cloud Platinum.
Jake Carradoc is beside me, driving his red Ferrari 599 GTB (personalized and customized) – the very Ferrari which floored me into procuring the very litigious medical diagnosis of retrograde amnesia – and we are cruising to his home in Beverly Hills where I‟m going to live!
I’ll be staying with Jake Carradoc (!) until such time I recover my memories and decide I want to go back to my life. He has very kindly offered me food, shelter, money, and his complete hospitality until I get my memories back, or if someone with a similar backpack from a rat-infested, one-star „the bar soap on the grimy sink is as thin as an insurance agent’s promise’ motel ultimately claims me.
This is so incredible I have to literally cradle my bladder from shooting out a squirt of excited pee every time we navigate a bump.
Jake, of course, completely believes I have severe amnesia.
“We’re. Now. Going. To. My. House,” he says slowly, enunciating every syllable just in case I’ve forgotten the specifics of English grammar. “Do. You. Remember. What. A. House. Is?”
Since leaving the hospital, we have conversed no more than three very prolonged sentences in this manner.
“How. Are. You. Feeling. Today?”
“This. Is. My. Car. This. Is. The. Key. That. Unlocks. My. Car.”
“This. Is. A. Seatbelt.”
I‟m going to let Jake continue to think I have complete amnesia, but not so severe we’d have to descend to smoke signals to get communication across.
“I remember what a house is,” I tell him. “I remember the meaning of words, and grammar, and what things are. I just don’t remember specifics. Like where my house is. Or my street address.”
I’m tempted to add it’s just like Samantha Who, except I remember I’m not supposed to remember who Samantha Who is.
“That’s great.” He is visibly relieved. For a long-accused-to-be-monosyllabic actor, he doesn’t like monosyllables.
He gives me a sidelong glance. “Do you know who I am?”
This is the time to decide once and for all how much of a sham I want this to be.
About the Author
Artemis Hunt has a husband who thinks all fiction is nonsense and all writers of fiction should get their heads checked for situational delusions. At any one time, they have 16 to 20 dogs, many of suspicious virtue.
Artemis frequently wishes she has telekinesis, so she doesn’t have to lift a finger to change the room temperature. She’s constantly glued to her computer, which serves as her gateway to her friends, books, movies, TV serials and sometimes husband, even though they’re sitting on the same bed two feet apart.
Artemis writes under the name of A.R. Hunt for the adult thriller and suspense genre.