By Joe Canzano
Genre: Science Fantasy
About the Book
When outlaw Suzy Spitfire flies to Venus in search of a vicious serial killer, she’s looking for
the road to redemption—but instead, she quickly becomes involved in a gang war,
a revolution, and a desperate attempt to protect a young girl from a violent future.
Join Suzy Spitfire and her friends for another wild ride through the solar system!
*This book contains profanity.
About the Author
Joe Canzano is a writer and musician who lives in New Jersey, U.S.A. His latest novel is called “Suzy Spitfire and the Snake Eyes of Venus,” an action-packed science fantasy with a dose of dark humor. For more information about Joe, please visit www.happyjoe.net.
Links:
Website: http://www.happyjoe.net
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/JoeCanzanoBooks
Twitter: https://twitter.com/happyjoecanzano
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/50759192-suzy-spitfire-and-the-snake-eyes-of-venus
Amazon Author Page: http://amazon.com/author/joecanzano
Interview with the Author
What do you find most challenging about the writing process, and how do you deal with it?
I tend to think I’ve got the whole plot worked out ahead of time, but as soon as I start writing
I discover there was quite a bit I didn’t think about—and my entire plan has to be changed.
This happens with every book, usually multiple times.
When and where do you do your writing?
I don’t have a set time, but it’s usually early in the morning and then later at night. I have a room
with a computer and some guitars, and that’s where I do most of it.
What have you learned about promoting your books?
It’s a real pain in the ass. There are lots of people out there making money telling you how to
make money—and most of their advice is the same recycled garbage. The only one making
money is the shyster you’re paying.
What are you most proud of as a writer?
My books are meant to be fun to read but there’s more to them than just fun. I like the ideas
I’ve put into the stories.
If you could have dinner with any writer, living or dead, who would it be and what would
you talk about?
Probably Kurt Vonnegut, who is unfortunately dead. From what I understand, he was a cranky
guy with a dim view of humanity. I think we’d get along fine.
EXCERPT
Suzy Spitfire ran a slender finger through her coppery hair and tried to smile. With a little luck, she looked like all the other peaceful pedestrians strolling through downtown Atlanta. It was a hot summer night, and the hover-cars roared by, and it would be nice to blend in with the waves of smiley people on the busy sidewalks—but no, they all seemed so distant. They’re all part of a big pretty picture, she thought, and I’m part of something else. Of course, none of them were wanted fugitives throughout the Nine Nations of Earth, not to mention the rest of the solar system. None of them were being followed by an ugly guy with bad intentions.
Suzy squinted at the carnival scene on the street but kept smiling. She sauntered past a few touristy bars, and a pounding dance club, and a writhing three-dimensional advertisement for cosmetic body sculpting. The light from every window was blasting her in the face like a firing squad. Her skin felt fried and her eyeballs ached.
I’ve got no regrets, she thought—but it would be nice to have fewer people chasing me, or at least someone more attractive.
She glanced at a reflection in a flashing window. Yeah, the ugly dude was still back there.
Then she saw the slick showroom of an air taxi service offering fast rides to Daytona Beach. For one second, her smile became real as she recalled her sister, walking on a different beach so long ago. She used to follow me, too, Suzy thought. But her intentions had been sweet.
Her mind filled with a picture of two little girls. Trish was four years younger, giggling as she followed Suzy around in the surf with a pail and shovel. She was looking for seashells and building a sand castle, and crying as it collapsed beneath a diabolical wave. Suzy was laughing as usual, telling Trish it was no big deal, they could build another one tomorrow so don’t worry about it. But Trish was always worried. It was just her nature. Even in old photos, at the age of three, she had a worried look on her face—like she knew what was coming.
But I didn’t know, Suzy thought. And now Trish was gone, and she was on the run—and she was going to shoot this fucker who was following her. Because that’s my nature.
She dropped her hand down near the Series 7 pulse pistol strapped to her thigh, right under her jet-black skirt. Was she proud of her nature? Not always. And was this guy a cop or something worse? And did it matter? A cop would be part of a team, harder to evade. A cop would also have to follow certain procedures, at least out here on an open street. A bounty hunter, on the other hand, would be more inclined to do something desperate and stupid.
And this guy looked stupid, based on the conspicuous trench coat he was wearing in the sultry summer heat. But an opponent with a small brain isn’t always a good thing. A dumb guy will often take a big risk, something crazy and unpredictable. Sometimes the dumb ones are the most dangerous.
She had a quick vision where she just whirled and shot him in the face. She paused and gave a grim sigh. I’m not that dumb anymore, she thought. And sometimes it’s a shame. Being smart is no fun at all.
It was too bad this had to happen now; she had somewhere to go. It was a hopeful place, too—maybe. A place where someone like her might get a new start. But this guy was screwing everything up. She swore softly to herself and took a deep breath, cooling her rage a bit. The last thing she needed was to end up surrounded by bloody body parts—again.
She stopped in front of a Mexican restaurant called El Sol and glanced sideways down the expanse of Peachtree Street. The smell of spicy rice and burritos wafted into her nostrils, just like it had back in her hometown of Diego Tijuana, where other people sometimes tried to kill her. Meanwhile, the guy had also stopped. He was looking at his allcom, maybe just staring at a blank screen, or maybe actually communicating with somebody. All right, it was time to make her move.
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