Saturday, October 22, 2016

Brad Mela ~ presents ~ Chaise to the Death


Author Bio:

Brad Mela was born in London, England, during the 60’s and used to play amongst the bomb craters in the high street before scrounging vegetables from the local market men and cakes from the kindly old ladies in the bakery – he’s still got those puppy dog eyes.

A student in history and classical studies, it’s only natural that his imagination has vented into becoming a Historical Fiction author.

Breaking away from his life career as an IT consultant, he is working on his first series of novels set in England during the late 18th century. It draws on the political and industrial turmoil of the age and involves a particularly complex character, Harry Kiser, who is a humble Post Chaise driver for the local Brewery.

He still resides close to London with his wife, family and two dogs. He leads a full and active life, but he still finds time to play his one-man band’s worth of musical instruments.

'The Post Chaise Chronicles' series is set in England during the late 18th-century when the world is going through some of its biggest changes in history. The monarchy, politics, industry, the face of Europe, and more, they are all on the wheel of evolution.

Why should it bother Henry 'Harry' Kiser and his family? It's all a million miles away, isn't it? But it's all about to knock at his door and threaten to bring his house down. The question is, should he answer the call and take the dangerous commission? There’s far more at stake in this adventure than missing a delivery date.

Harry is more complex than your average Post Chaise driver and his PTSD is pushing his sanity to the edge of the abyss. He’s losing his grip but will he lose his family, his friends and his neck along with it? He’s risking it all to find out too late that he's closer to the hangman's noose now than he's ever been.

The Kiser family run the inn and the independent postal service in Bath. The Royal Mail is their biggest competitor, but now, the Government and half of Europe looks to be threatening for a fight. Harry doesn't have a lot on his side other than some old Army friends and a trusty hound.

Follow the journey on a trail of mystery and disaster, but you'd better stick close; even Harry doesn't know where he's headed in this action packed adventure series.

Rich in character, scenery and plot, book 1 of the Post Chaise Chronicles, set's the bar high. There are twists and turns galore, and that's not just on the road!

They hadn’t been more than thirty minutes from Barton Fields and were on a lane that was banked by bushes and trees on either side. The road didn't seem too bad on the current stretch, as the rocking of the carriage had eased, although it'd never disappear entirely.

Bloat had lain back down earlier but he suddenly lifted his head up and sniffed the air. Then the dog sat up completely. That grabbed Harry’s attention.

“What's up, boy?” He asked. He heard a low growl coming from the back of the dog’s throat. In fact, he felt it more than heard it; it was very deep and the seat rumbled.

The rain had stopped completely so Harry, still holding the reins in one hand, unwrapped the gun with the other but threw a light cover back over the weapon to stop it getting thrown off. At least it was now easier at hand.

A rustling started in the left-hand bushes, and he and Bloat looked that way. The dog got up on all fours.

This was a perfect place for an ambush; he couldn't turn round without dismounting, and there was cover on both sides of the narrow lane, which was just wide enough for another carriage to pass if needed.

Then a large stag jumped out of the woods. Harry had to pull sharp on the reins and get the horses to a stop quick, but they’d worked that out for themselves.

The large antlered beast paused to admire the horses but went on quickly, brushing past their noses as it crashed into the bushes on the other side and on to the cover of the trees.

Bloat put his paws on the kick board at the front but still looked unblinkingly at the thick bush on the left, the opposite direction to the stag.

Then things happened all at once. The window came down in the carriage, Black stuck his head out and called, “What's the proble… oh!”

“Don't move!” The voice from the left was on the end of a cocked pistol and had directed the instruction to Harry.

Also, a rustling of bushes started on the right, and he could see another robber making his way out and then, lastly and unexpectedly, Bloat leapt from the bench seat and took the man down with the flintlock in one bound. The man fell backwards, with Bloat on top, into the scrub beyond the lane.

Harry reacted. He shook the reins wildly and flicked the whip, yelling for the horses to move…

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