BOOK BOMB! Bob Defendi’s Death By Cliche

It is BOOK BOMB time!

For those of you new to Book Bombs, the goal is to get as many people as possible to buy an author’s book on the same day. The more books sell, the higher it gets in the rankings, the more new people see it. If it is something that you would be interested in reading anyway, getting it the same time as a bunch of other folks pushes it up in the ratings, which means more publicity, exposure, and new fans. Success breeds success, and a good Book Bomb can get an author hundreds of new fans. We steer people toward Amazon for this because it is big, has lots of eyes on it, and has an constantly updating sales rank, but if you prefer to purchase somewhere else go for it, because the most important thing is that the author GETS PAID.

So please spread the word and tell your friends.
DeathByCliche
This month’s Book Bomb is for Bob Defendi’s Death By Cliche

I’ve known Bob for many years. He’s an all around good dude, and fixture in the Utah writer nerd community.

My first exposure to this book was as a dramatic reading. Bob has a voice box that makes my Range Officer Voice sound like a church mouse, so once you read this book just imagine the All State guy thundering DOOM! DOOM! and you’ll get an idea what it was like.

Death By Cliche is an epic saga of every game night gone wrong.

The tavern smelled like a urine-soaked gym sock after it had passed through the digestive tract of a water buffalo. Damico hadn’t noticed it at first; it sort of snuck up on you like a squad of Navy SEALS, or worse, normal seals, the kind carrying clubs and out to prove humans aren’t the only creatures on the planet that like to wear a coat once in a while.

##

Hraldolf sat in a hall of immense power. Beneath him cowered a throne made of blackened bones. Behind rose a xylophone of glimmering ribs arching off a backbone that would make the most honest chiropractor start shopping for a boat. It culminated in a tail that snaked into the air. The seat was to vertebrates what the Bikini Atoll test was to firecrackers.

He rose with far more dignity than a man with his name had any right to possess. He moved with the grace of a ballerina. His feet caressed the stairs down from his throne as they crossed one in front of the other, in dainty slippers. Finally they stopped, and Henchman the Junior stared up at stockinged legs that would have made Louis the XVI bitch-slap a nun.

 ##

So please spread the word! Tell your friends! BOOOOOK BOMB!

Here are the opening stats:

EDIT: As of this morning, a nice little jump to start the day

Amazon Best Sellers Rank: #24,815 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)

Amazon Best Sellers Rank: #5,137 Paid in Kindle Store (See Top 100 Paid in Kindle Store)

Lunch time edit!

Amazon Best Sellers Rank: #2,605 Paid in Kindle Store (See Top 100 Paid in Kindle Store)

Amazon Best Sellers Rank: #28,161 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)

EDIT for the dinner time crowd:

Amazon Best Sellers Rank: #1,746 Paid in Kindle Store (See Top 100 Paid in Kindle Store)

Amazon Best Sellers Rank: #26,910 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)

 

 

 

 

EBR reviews Alliance of Shadows
Still not a *Real* writer!

20 thoughts on “BOOK BOMB! Bob Defendi’s Death By Cliche”

  1. Bought! I like the premise, looks like it could be pretty funny. It’s in my queue after I get done with Grunge. 😀

  2. Amazon owns audible so I’m reasonably certain I’m not sabotaging the book bomb sales stats but if you want to hear the voice that Larry opining about Robert Defendi is the narrator of Death by Cliché. I’ve only had time to listen to the sample and I can already tell this ISN’T going to the disaster that a lot of audible books are when read by a good author but terrible narrator. Mr. Defendi got the chops to turn in a good performance in addition to writing a good book.

  3. GOT IT!! My Audible library is filled to the brim with your books and those you’ve recommended.

    Keep it coming!

  4. Here’s a new sample to reward you all for getting me to #6 in satire:

    There came a gentle whooshing sound, and a speck of fire flew out of the center of the doorway. Damico was vaguely aware of everyone scattering around him as the speck grew closer and closer, a malevolent orange flicker of doom. He didn’t have time to swallow his tongue before the thing hit him in the center of the chest and detonated. Son of a b—
    Take a large metal barrel and half a pound of fireworks. Climb inside with the fireworks and seal the thing closed behind you. Then start a match, and, in the echoing depths of the barrel, light the fuse. Do not stick your fingers in your ears. If, just before the fireworks detonate, the barrel gets hit by an eighteen wheeler, you’ll have the right idea of the noise.

    Defendi, Bob. Death by Cliché (Kindle Locations 373-378). Curiosity Quills Press. Kindle Edition.

  5. I bought it early in the morning in a fit of insomnia, finally got around to reading it this afternoon, and I think the people with adjoining apartments probably think I’m getting ready to murder someone with all the cackling I’m doing while reading this book. Totally worth the buy and I’m going to send it off to my other tabletop gaming friends on recommendation too.

  6. Here’s another sample. I’ll building up to one of my favorites, for the very end, so if you’re enjoying these, continue reading the comments.

    The moment you’re shot in the head, a great terror seizes your body. Then peace floods through every limb, your fingers tingle, and your toes— if you can move them— curl. That part is important, because if you can curl your toes, your body will want to take a breath— a big one. This is the moment of truth. When the breath flows into your lungs, it tastes sweet.
    Sweet like bubblegum perfume, sweet like taking a body shot from the cleavage of a perfect ten. Like the seven-hundred-to-one horse winning by a nose. It’s that moment you realize that when your daughter said she was late, she just meant her watch had stopped.
    As Damico collapsed, bullet wound in his head, he experienced none of that.

  7. Sample:
    Peasant! Is that one down there, under the gaze of our long eyes? Behold him, at the end of a plow, working his perfectly square lot of farmland. We will watch him, and he’ll never know. A peasant under glass, as it were.
    He has no name, so we will name him. Bil, for the weapon. Bil reaches the end of a long, painful furrow in the earth. He reaches the end, and he pauses wearily. It’s time to turn the plow. It’s easier to pass an arms budget through a democratic congress than to turn a medieval plow.

  8. Reading it now, loving it.
    This is everything “Redshirts” was supposed to be, but never was.

  9. Oh, thank you, Joe!

    That comment deserves another sample.

    Hraldolf stood on a hill overlooking a village, a black velvet mask on his face, his hair oiled and neatly curled, his clothes perfect. Around him stood humans, more dog than man— and lapdogs at that. They sniffed and begged and preened for his attention. It was amazing he didn’t have to bat them away from his rump.
    Below him, on the edge of the village, his walls of metal and muscle he called guards, the guards called men, and the villagers called “sir,” stood waiting for the order. They were a coiled spring ready to sprang, a charged bullet ready to fire, a mother-in-law about to check your ironing.
    In other words, doom itself.

  10. Last sample of the night. Thank you all.

    But if you bought more tomorrow, that would be awesome. 🙂

    His name was Jurkand. Don’t blame me; his mother had issues. He sat in the whorehouse, waiting for his go upstairs. Jurkand liked money. And whores. Money and whores were both nice. Preferably at the same time. Hopefully, there would be enough of each that when he was done with the one, he’d still have something left of the other.
    Jurkand wasn’t the deepest pool in the park.
    He sat there, counting his gold as he sipped an ale someone had dyed pink. He didn’t wonder who could dye ale pink in a medieval society. He certainly didn’t wonder if the ale would give him cancer, and that was a mistake. Whorehouse or no whorehouse, pink ale wasn’t natural.
    So Jurkand sipped at what— if he was lucky— was merely lead-based ale and stacked and restacked his coins. As he waited, a group of girls came down the stairs and lined up like a cattle drive. Jurkand lifted his head. It was his turn.
    The room was done in the same tasteless lace one expects from the boudoir of an over-the-hill sexpot. Mrs. Robinson, you’re trying to pollute me.
    There were pink walls and pink upholstery. The room was decorated at an expense that would have bankrupted a French king, but Carl didn’t have the best grasp of medieval economics. Candle chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Perfume cloyed the air. In one corner, a western gentleman complete with six-shooters banged away at an antique piani. I’m sorry you had to see that.
    I’ll spare you a description of the whores. You might get adult-onset diabetes.

  11. End of day stats:

    End of the day stats:

    Kindle:

    Amazon Best Sellers Rank: #1,719 Paid in Kindle Store (See Top 100 Paid in Kindle Store)
    #5 in Kindle Store > Kindle eBooks > Literature & Fiction > Genre Fiction > Satire
    #10 in Books > Science Fiction & Fantasy > Fantasy > Humorous
    #32 in Kindle Store > Kindle eBooks > Literature & Fiction > Humor & Satire > General Humor

    Paperback:

    Amazon Best Sellers Rank: #18,931 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
    #45 in Books > Science Fiction & Fantasy > Fantasy > Humorous
    #861 in Books > Science Fiction & Fantasy > Fantasy > Epic
    #1206 in Books > Science Fiction & Fantasy > Fantasy > Paranormal & Urban

    Audio:

    Amazon Best Sellers Rank:
    #134 in Books > Audible Audiobooks > Fantasy > Contemporary
    #587 in Books > Literature & Fiction > Humor & Satire > Humorous
    #1636 in Books > Science Fiction & Fantasy > Fantasy > Paranormal & Urban

  12. Loved it! I especially loved all of the “hmm… wait a minute…” moments the main villain experiences throughout. So perfect.

  13. “We steer people toward Amazon for this because it is big, has lots of eyes on it…”

    Sounds a lot like the sorts of things MHI gets paid to kill.

  14. I cannot wait to read this! New to the Nation, but glad to be here 🙂 So happy to see these book bombs. So many choices to read, and this is a great way to find cool books. Keep ’em coming!

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