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jd young

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The Woman on Pritchard Street
by jd young   

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· Dancing With Demons and Other Bedtime Stories



Publisher:  Young Lions At The Gate ISBN-10:  B007MTJ81O Type:  Fiction


Copyright:  9-1-2011 ISBN-13:  9780615523033

Download to your Kindle (eBook)

Urban Fantasy/Political Thriller set in Washington DC and Budapest. First of a trilogy.

Sometimes things just fall into your lap. Some make you smile and enjoy the ride. Others make you grab your balls and pray for redemption. When this job fell my way, the easy money clouded my senses. Though my balls ached, I
ignored my gut. I figured, why not? …Simon Nicolae Gautreaux

We follow Simon, a second rung investigative reporter from a small town in Georgia. After arriving in Washington, DC, he takes a job that forever changes his life.

He is thrown in with DC powerbrokers and finds the underbelly of the city is darker than one might imagine. His travels to Budapest open up a new chapter in his life - one that will include the Vatican, Homeland Security and the halls of Congress.


 Palmetto Books - Nov 24, 2012

The Woman on Pritchard Street by jd young is a supernatural thriller. You
are taken through the life of Simon Gautreux, who is a struggling
photographer, writer, and so much more.

It begins with a terrifying incident Simon experiences, the events of
which become a major part of the story-line throughout the rest of the
book. A short amount of time later you follow Simon to his home town,
which he had completely abandoned many years before -- following the death
of his mother. This is where you meet 'The Woman on Prichard Street'. He
had been sent to take photographs of her and any people she encountered.
Simon came to find out he had known her, Grace, in his adolescence and she
was now involved with some...supernatural happenings.

The story moves to Simon and Grace falling in love, but they can only be
together for a high price. Grace's former love, Mel, becomes a central
figure in their lives, blackmailing and forcing Simon to do his bidding.
There are many big players involved in this lycan/vampiric scheme, going
so high up as to involve the White House and Vatican. In the end, after
all of the abuse Simon takes from Mel and Daphne (a former employer and
friend) he comes into his own form of power and is able to turn the tables
and shake things up. My favorite part of the book is when Simon calls the
meeting between himself, Daphne and Mel to "set them straight", in a

Young does a very good job telling a well-rounded story; giving you bits
and pieces, hints of connections here and there, but not enough for you to
figure things out until he wants you to. I very much enjoyed this book, it
takes an almost refreshing look on vampires, compared to more recent
popular views... Overall, the book is well written and I greatly enjoyed
the story and all of the characters in it. I look forward to reading more
from Young and I hope this is only the beginning of Simon's story!


Fourteen hours later I pulled into the only motel in town. I remembered it vividly. It was the only place where used car dealers and stay-at-home moms could meet. It had not changed in twenty years as I am sure neither had the bed sheets.

When checking in, old Roy commented how I looked familiar. I feigned ignorance and asked for a room on the end of a hallway. No one stopped here unless they were lost. Then they were lucky to get out. Grabbing the key, I drove to the last room on the flat, ugly span of building. The ice machine was working overtime, yet no ice was in the bin. The soda machine sat idle and the smell of wet mold saturated the carpet-tiled hallway.

I tossed my bag on the worn comforter and returned to my car, cameras in tow. I found the house on Pritchard Street Leslie had proffered. It was vaguely familiar, but it had been eleven years since I traveled this town.

After five minutes of maneuvering to the perfect viewing spot, I parked. Nothing was stirring – not air, not people – not life. Overwhelming quiet, overwhelming sadness, overwhelming neglect.

I was again validated in my decision to leave this place of agony.
As I sat in my car the stifling heat reminded me of my advancing age and narrowing tolerance for anything uncomfortable. Being here was unpleasant for so very many reasons. The longer I sat and sweat, the more the payoff was becoming less enticing and not worth the torment – even though it was temporary.

From my dark, muggy spot under the hundred-year-old magnolia there was barely a breeze to be had and the damn cricket screams were never ending.
I stared at the clapboard house. The corner open window was dressed with an old aluminum screen riddled with rust and dotted with gaping age holes.

My eyes focused on a worn cotton dress clinging to a very sweaty body. She sat looking through the dirty screen as if a lost love would emerge.

An old fan declared noisy, irregular beats in the background and lucid tones of “he done me wrong” songs played on the only radio station available in this patch of hot, humid real estate. Two moldy chairs on the front porch and numerous chimes interspersed with dead plants wrapped in macramé hangers reaffirmed that nothing survives this heat.

What is it about southerners and their fascination with chimes? They hang these ugly groupings on any protruding material they can find. Shells, glass, iron, tin, beads, bones – trash. A simple breeze happens along and the friggin’ town sounds like a Freddie Krueger movie. Just waiting for blood to spill and unearthly screams from someone’s backyard to fill a quiet evening.

My mind wrestled with old memories. I may have been born into this heat, played with the racist bastards next-door and supported the political scum of southern Georgia, but I had Yankee genes.

I hated the South and all it housed. The wet, moldy bathrooms, sweaty faces and necks on the most beautiful of women, dirt running down the back and ass of every redneck in a grocery store. The north beckoned at an early age. After a tour in NYC, DC was my last stop. Anywhere north of the Mason Dixon would have been fine.

I reminded myself that the cash for this job was too good to ignore. Nothing hard and it was a town I was familiar with and could revisit without raising too many suspicions. I even had a cousin on the three-man police force.
What was his name? Gomer? Bobby Joe? Nah, it was Wesley just as it was “Wesley” for the other 1,003 male residents in this simmering pit of torment. Guess Jackson Creek’s baby books discounted the first 22 letters of the alphabet.

Everyone’s nickname was Bubba so it didn’t really matter what your Christ-given, preacher-confirmed, baptized-in-the-creek name may have been. Bobby Joe, Bobby Bill or Bobby Jim -- Bubba was the name to which you answered. I lucked out since my mother was reading the New Testament when she was pregnant. Thankfully, she went with Simon – cudda been Hezekiah.

Here, you just went along. Didn’t raise a lot of political fuss ‘cause the guy from your district funneled in enough cash to keep residents placated. The locals didn’t want much either. Keep the bar going, the post office in the back of Selena’s diner, the John Deere lot.

No road upkeep was needed for the dirt-and-rock pitted trail into town, and a steady flow of cash to the mayor and sheriff ensured a no-problem town.
After the gold mining petered out, the cemetery was the only real moneymaking business around.

No one cared who was buried in Aunt Birdie’s plot. If Birdie died and her plot was being used, the family got a bit of cash and another place for auntie to spend eternity under a newly planted magnolia.

Been that way since Thunder Road casualties filled most of the Tennessee & Bama graveyards. Just push those bones across the border – Georgia was always open to alternative cash flows.
Hell, Marve would bury anyone or anything, for any reason - for a price. Cash opened doors and pushed sensibilities sideways. Even the new yuppie types invading town were welcome. Baptists turned their heads and accepted the cash-flush newcomers. Their large and frequent contributions to town coffers made some of their odd customs seem not so strange.

Professional Reviews
A Dark Story for Adults as Well as Teenagers
I am tired of reading stories aimed at the teen or preteen audience. I need smart storytelling where I am not closing the book and saying only a ten-year-old would believe this. This is what jd young does for us. Love her characters and love that she allows natural things to happen even though they may shock us. She lets the story take its natural course and it is spellbinding. Her main character grows in front of our eyes so that by the end of the book, he seems like a completely different character. I like that!

A Real Page Turner
The Woman on Pritchard Street by JD Young is one of the best suspense novels I've ever read and I ordinarily do not read those types of novels. This author immediately pulls you into the story by utilizing such a descriptive style of writing that you can visualize all that's going on. The characters are definitely interesting and there are many twists and turns throughout that make you read on to find out what will happen next. It was hard to put the book down once I started reading it. I'm looking forward to any follow-up books as I have to know what happens to Simon.

Outstanding Thriller
Just when I thought I had figured out what comes next, JD Young throws a curve that I never expected. The twists and turns you take as you follow Simon through his assignment in Georgia, the strange attacks in DC and his planned trip to Budapest make this a book you just can't seem to put down because you need to know what happens next.
If you enjoy a thriller that pulls you in and makes you a bystander to strange and unexplained events, this is definitely a book for you.........I am patiently waiting for the next installment of the Vasile Chronicles and look forward to continuing my journey into the dark side yet to come.

Reader Reviews for "The Woman on Pritchard Street"

Reviewed by m j hollingshead 7/4/2014

enjoyed reading your informative narrative

I look forward to reading more of your work.


Reviewed by jd young 11/27/2012
Night Owl Reviews - Nov 26, 2012

The suspense in The Woman on Pritchard Street keeps you on the edge. The main character changes page by page until he's not the same.
The story has a lot of political webs in the White House, DC Police and Homeland Security.

The setting is in Georgia, Budapest and D.C. A small town journalist, Simon, is driven by fast money. All forms of evil are all around him and his girlfriend, Grace. 
He's sitting at Beckett's a bookstore in D.C. relaxing. No one notices him except Leslie who pushes Simon's magic button, money and lots of money.

Just when you think you know what's happening next, here comes that ninety degree angle. You can't lay this book down because after a Georgia assignment, attacks in D.C. and a Budapest trip, it keeps you turning the pages.The Woman on Pritchard Street holds a lot of mystery, shocking events and DARKNESS.

Hold on to your chair and start reading.

I didn't tell you anything about the woman and her house on Pritchard Street. It's from the DARK SIDE!

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Books by
jd young

Dancing With Demons and Other Bedtime Stories

Buy Options
Kindle, Amazon, more..

The Woman on Pritchard Street

Buy Options
Kindle, Amazon, more..

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