The identity of the author is part of an international contest, and the first person to correctly name the HG Writer from the clues found in the Count of Monte Cristo sequels will receive a reward of $5000.
Visit the Holy Ghost Writer's Amazon Author Page for Details and see if you can discover the real identity of the author being heralded as the new Stieg Larsson for That Girl Started Her Own Country, the successor of Alexander Dumas for The Sultan of Monte Cristo and the next Ray Bradbury for The Boy Who Played With Dark Matter.
Contact the author c/o firstname.lastname@example.org
Looking down, Remey realized that he was still gripping her arm. As he released her he slowly let his hand skim from her elbow to her wrist, turning the touch into a caress. “Well hello, Ms. E.B. It’s a pleasure. Are there any other aliases I should I know about?”
“What’s that old phrase—I’d tell you, but I’d have to kill you?” she teased back. “Besides, that’s not really an alias. They’re just initials that I figured you would recognize.”
“Touché. So. . . .” His nervousness was obvious as he bounced lightly on the heels of his feet and ran his fingers through his thick hair. “Come in. You look. . . . ” Just as he turned to make a comment about her disguise, she pulled off the wig, still looking his way. “You’re crazy. Why don’t you sit down?” He motioned toward the couch and made his way to the mini bar to see what he could grab. There were some mini bottles of wine, some packaged cheese, a dark chocolate bar . . . those seemed like the most appropriate items, he thought. Joining her on the couch he arranged the items onto the glass coffee table in front of them, then left to collect the glasses. “Sorry, the mini bar is the best I can do. Room service might not come any more.”
“Oh, don’t worry about it. Although I can’t lie, a good steak sounds amazing considering the meals I get in prison.”
“Have you already had dinner, at least?”
“Yeah, it’s a busy night. My first errand was business, but this is all pleasure.” She turned her body toward his and reached for a piece of the Toblerone. “Tell me why I should trust you. Why would it make sense for you to be on my side?”
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