I am so pleased to be a part of this amazing release day!!!! What a wonderful book this is and you should all go and get it right now. Stay tuned for my review on October 10!!
It's September 24th and that means that Waterproof has finally
arrived!
Dying of thirst is the new reality.
Five years after the last drop
of clean water disappeared, global societies collapsed and nuclear war
shattered all hope of recovery. In a place now only a skeleton of its former
self, survivors fight to avoid capture by the government. Forced to work in
factories that produce the only drinking water available, those who go in,
never come out.
Zach and Vivienne have lived as
deserters since they were teenagers. Fighting amongst their own and scrounging
for the necessities of life, they’ve learned to rely on each other in every
way. Yet when tragedy strikes and the true objectives of the government
facility are revealed, their world is ripped apart.
A fate once thought to hold
their demise may be the sole answer to their survival. Who can they trust? Who
can they believe?
In this life, it pays to be waterproof.
Amber Garr spends her days as a scientist and nights
writing about other worlds. Born in Pennsylvania, she lives in Maryland
with her husband and their furry kids. Her childhood imaginary friend was
a witch, Halloween is sacred, and she is certain that she has a supernatural
sense of smell. Amber is a multiple Royal Palm Literary Award winner,
author of Waterproof, The Syrenka Series, The Leila Marx Novels,
and the upcoming Death Warden Series.
When not obsessing over the unknown, she can be found dancing, reading, or
enjoying a good movie.
Stalk Amber Online:
Excerpt From the Book
Ten more steps.
My legs ached with every
jarring move, growing heavier the closer I got to my destination. The weight of
my bounty pulled against me like a prisoner’s chain. If I dropped it, I would
be safe. The idea taunted me as I ran through the abandoned junk yard, dodging
large pieces of scrap metal and sliding over the rusty hoods of skeletal cars.
“Drop them or I’ll shoot you
dead,” a gruff voice yelled behind me.
I didn’t dare turn back.
Something whizzed past my ear and slammed into the side of an old van blocking
the path in front of me. A reddish dust full of steel splinters exploded in my
face as the unmistakable sound of tearing metal pierced the dusk air. I’d
gravely misjudged this group of deserters.
Heart hammering in my chest, I
slid to a stop before crashing into the bullet hole meant for my head. Two
bottles slipped from my arms and rolled underneath the van before I could stop
them. Shit. There wasn’t enough time
but I couldn’t go back with only those left in my hands.
I braved a look behind at my pursuers. The
three men tearing after me had nothing but revenge in their eyes. If the two
sawed-off shotguns didn’t represent their intentions, then the man firing the
military rifle at my head made it very clear.
Another bullet slammed into the
van just as I ducked down to retrieve the bottles. Footsteps pounded against
the broken pavement and dead leaves, sounding more like an army than a handful
of survivors like me. I reached as far as my shoulder would allow, ignoring the
pain searing through my tired muscles. My fingertips brushed the plastic
container just before it rolled further under the van.
“Where’d he go?” one of the men
called out. He sounded close.
Dropping to my stomach, I
nestled the remaining bottles under my left arm, while trying to retrieve the
others with my right. After squeezing half my body underneath the van, I
finally grabbed the first, then the second. Another shot ricocheted off the
ground in front of me. They were trying to flush out my position and if they
found me now, I was dead.
Scooping up the prized
possessions I’d risked my life for, I prepared to run. Trapped between two
vehicles, only one option presented itself - I’d have to get to the old cargo
containers. This particular group of deserters set up their camp inside a metal
scrap yard. Smart and resourceful. The dilapidated containers had been pushed
to the sides, creating a barrier and providing some semblance of safety.
Although I’d slipped through them easily on my way in, my arms were now full of
water bottles that slowed me down.
Water. Wars were fought and
lost over it. People died. Billions of humans perished in the days leading up
to the end. And now I risked my life for a mere eight liters because we’d used
the last natural drop of clean water on the planet five years ago.
Metal cracked above my head.
Dust fell into my eyes and tiny pellets showered over my back like a swarm of
bees.
“I’ve got him!”
I looked up in fear, only to
see that I still had a clear path to my escape. Shotgun man had his sights
somewhere else. Now was my chance.
Sucking in a deep breath, I
scrambled to my feet and ran as hard as I could toward the narrow crevice
between the containers. Forcing myself not to turn and look where they were, I
ignored the shouting and distinct sound of shells hitting the ground.
Five more steps.
