# Watcher's Web - a tale of a young woman in another world - SF - 99c sale



## Patty Jansen (Apr 5, 2011)

*Watcher's Web*

She's not your ordinary country girl, even though she might look like one. She casts webs of power, reading the feelings of living beings and telling them what to do. Nobody knows what causes it, least of all her. Her name is Jessica, but most people call her 'freak'.
One fateful day, her 'web' connects with a stranger, and stray power causes the plane in which she's travelling to crash in an alien world. An accident? The more she discovers about the world in which she has landed, the more she doubts it. She is a survivor from an ancient race that once travelled the stars. Her ancestors were powerful and dangerous, and it seems at least two people want her: the man who invades her mind, and the man who's desperate to help her get back home. But Jessica grew up an Earth girl, and isn't having any of this. She'll pander to no one, thank you very much, even if her stubbornness enrages the tyrant race who hold the world in their grip.


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## Ann in Arlington (Oct 27, 2008)

Welcome to KindleBoards, Patty, and congratulations on your book!

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## Patty Jansen (Apr 5, 2011)

I have put up a sample chapter for this book here:

http://pattyjansen.wordpress.com/2011/05/01/watchers-web-sample-chapter/


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## Patty Jansen (Apr 5, 2011)

Here is a snippet:

'Help me, girl. We need to get them out.' The hippie flung aside a black bag and a newspaper. The businessman leant against the window, his eyes half-open, blood seeping into the collar of his shirt.
Something clicked in her mind. What was she doing? Forgetting everything she'd learned about first aid? 'You're . . . you're not supposed to move injured people. You might make their injuries worse.' Her voice sounded high, awfully childish. 
He shot her an irritated look. 'Yes, if the victim is in a safe place--which we are not. You know how flammable Avgas is? Even a mobile phone signal can set it off. Here--get a move on. Take that somewhere safe.' He shoved the first aid kit into her hands.
She had no energy to argue with him, tell him that was an urban myth. Besides, the sparks she gave off might do the trick and she didn't want to argue about them either. 
Jessica clutched the first aid box to her chest and pushed up the slope through the tangle of branches. Pain spiked through her feet with every step, as if she walked on knives. On her arms the sparks swirled, forming patterns as if schools of tiny fish swam under her skin.


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## Patty Jansen (Apr 5, 2011)

Another snippet was posted on Indiebookslist:

http://indiebookslist.wordpress.com/2011/06/09/watchers-web-by-patty-jansen/


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## Patty Jansen (Apr 5, 2011)

This is what a reviewer had to say about the voice of the main character:

The first thing that I noticed about this book, and really appreciated, was the strong Australian voice of the character. It's been awhile since I have read anything that is set, even just initially, in a country other than America or an American copy. So it was refreshing, and enjoyable to see an Australian author making the most of their country of origin.


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## Patty Jansen (Apr 5, 2011)

author interview posted here:

http://www.1stauthorinterviews.com/2011/06/interview-with-patty-jansen-author-of.html


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## Tara Maya (Nov 4, 2010)

Patty Jansen said:


> I'm baffled. A while ago, I put up a sample chapter of this book on my blog (http://pattyjansen.wordpress.com/2011/05/01/watchers-web-sample-chapter/) and the page has been getting consistent high hits. Not from spambots, because those usually pick out one page and hit it for a day or so, but this is consistent.
> 
> There must be some sort of other reason.


It's not the chapter that mentions Justin Beiber is it? j

Since the sample has been getting hits, has there been a rise in sales?


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## Patty Jansen (Apr 5, 2011)

Justin Bieber. Yes, totally. Fancy that.


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## Patty Jansen (Apr 5, 2011)

Now also available at OmniLit:

http://www.omnilit.com/product-watcher039sweb-601924-143.html


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## Patty Jansen (Apr 5, 2011)

Another snippet:

Jessica gulped and stopped. 'Where are we going? Where are you taking me?' 
If he thought she was coming in that thing, he would have to think again. She would agree to nothing, unless she fully understood it. 
His blue eyes met hers. 'Do you have a single trusting bone in your body? I told you we need to make you act the part of a lady.'
'Where are you taking me?'
'Nowhere. Do you think I'd risk my licence going off without a permit?'
'I don't know about permits. You don't tell me anything.'
'And you would do well to accept what you're given once in a while.' There was that accusing finger again.
'No one gives me anything. They only call me freak.' 
He stopped at the door of the craft. Sunlight made his hair glow link gold.
'Then it is a truly poor place where you've grown up. I hope to show you that there are places where someone's word is just that: his word. I promised I would help you, and no matter how stubbornly and stupidly you behave, I will do just that.'
Shut up, Jess, and stop behaving like an idiot. Besides, he was right. She trusted no one enough for a true friendship, because people were likely to turn around and hurt her. She loved her parents, but there were many things they didn't know. She liked the farm hands at John Braithwaite's farm, but they thought she was odd and made jokes about it. And yet Iztho didn't treat her like a freak, and she didn't know how to handle that. He was right. She wasn't a lady; she was a mangy dog expecting a kick. Crawling under the table, but positioning her teeth so she could inflict the most painful bite possible when the foot came again.
She'd built a shell for herself that looked like a tough cowgirl on the outside, but the armour was close to breaking and inside she was a mess. If she wasn't human, then why did she feel so much pain?


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## Patty Jansen (Apr 5, 2011)

Another snippet:

Just as she had noticed the screen left on the couch, still turned on, he strode in from the street, carrying a large blue flower.
He stopped. His mouth fell open. He looked from her hair to her bare feet and back again. Jessica's skin pricked.
The dressmaker smiled and spoke to him in keihu. Iztho ignored him, stepped forward, took Jessica's hand and bowed. 'Lady. May I offer you a small gift to compliment your beauty?'
Jessica wished she could laugh at his silliness--how dreadfully formal did he sound when he spoke his own language--but a deep blush had risen to her cheeks.
She took the flower from him and noticed it was the same colour as his eyes. 
Lost for words, she tucked the flower in her bun; he still watched her in the mirror. Once again, she ran her hands over the dress, looking at her mirror image, her mind aglow with a sense of pride that was new to her. Why the hell had she spent the past seventeen years thinking that because she didn't look like the other kids at school, she was worth nothing? Why had she thought that because specialist doctors knew no solution to her mental problem, none existed? 
No, there would be no more presumptions, no more barriers. She smiled at Iztho, who still watched her. 'Thank you.' And put her hand on his outstretched arm like a noble girl accepting a dance. From now on, things would be different.


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## Patty Jansen (Apr 5, 2011)

Random snippet:

Jessica fumbled her way back to the mattress, spots dancing before her eyes, when she became aware of a bluish glow from behind.
Somewhere down the bottom of a stack of boxes near the door, blue light spilled through a crack, so bright that when Jessica tried to peep in, she couldn't make out anything for the glow.
Holy shit. Was this something she should worry about? Something she should turn off before going to sleep?
She heaved the boxes that stood on top onto another pile, until she uncovered the source of the blue light: hundreds of transparent balls like the eyes of dead fish. She picked up one of them. It was heavy, about the size of a marble, and perfectly smooth. She clamped her hand around it. The surface remained icy cold.
Strange. 
She opened her hand. The marble stared back at her, glowing blue light, its smooth surface revealing none of its purpose. There were no holes to thread a string, or indentations of any kind. The touch of her hand did not warm the surface. This was one heck of a weird thing. She wanted to drop it back into the box, but it clung to her palm. 
What the . . .?
Jessica held her hand upside down, but the bloody thing wouldn't let go. Sparks and waves of heat whirled under her skin, into the glass-like material, which glowed ever brighter blue. She tried to wipe the marble on her knee and take it off with her other hand. Sparks flew from her fingers. The glass glowed red, then white and then sang with a deafening tone until it shattered. Jessica screamed. Pieces of glass flew everywhere. Clattered on the floor, against the walls and ceiling. The light had turned itself on again.
Silence.
Jessica gasped. The palm of her left hand was red. Blood dripped from small cuts the flying glass had made on the skin of her arms. There were also cuts in her shins and feet. Very carefully and still shaking, she sank to her knees and, using a corner of her sarong, wiped fragments from the floor. She hoped to hell these things weren't valuable. Things that collected energy were bound to be.


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## Patty Jansen (Apr 5, 2011)

Random snippet

Jessica retreated into the shrubbery at the bottom of the cliff. 
First one, and then another figure came out of the reeds. Against the glare of sunlight, they were nothing more than black shapes. Small, dressed in rags, with mops of untidy hair like reggae singers. Five of them. 
How could they have come down that cliff so quickly? 
They stopped on the beach, talking and gesticulating. Any minute now and they would see her footprints and then they only needed to follow the trail.
Jessica broke a twig off a shrub and pushed backwards through the vegetation, sweeping the fine sand over her footprints as she went. It was a botch job and if these trackers were worth their salt, they'd find her in a jiffy, but what else could she do? Branches snagged on her clothes and scratched her arms. She stopped to peek. The knot of men broke up and one pointed at the water's edge, the spot where she had stopped and noticed her double shadow. Two of the men followed her tracks up the beach. They disappeared into the bushes.
Faster she walked backwards, and faster still. Step, sweep, step, sweep, step . . .
A whistle echoed. They would have found her backpack. Shit.
Jessica turned and ran as fast as she could. The men shouted; branches cracked.
She jumped over and between bushes. Something funny was going on with her right shoe. Parts of it flapped loose and her sock was filling up with sand. 
If she could reach the river beyond the sand spit, swim across, she might escape . . . if the men couldn't swim, or at least not as well as she could.
The shrubs ended abruptly.
Jessica launched herself into the open, weaving between tussocks of plants. Here she could gain speed and take advantage of her longer legs, get away from them as fast as possible. She ran up a low sand dune, around the corner of the cliff . . . into an invisible curtain of . . . something.
Her hands tingled; the skin on her face pricked. The feeling exploded over her chest, down her stomach, her legs . . . like pins and needles, in her entire body. 
She had to stop running because her legs threatened to buckle under her.
From where she stood, a meadow sloped down to a lazily churning river. In the middle of the grassy space stood a circular wall, and on this wall about a dozen tall poles, made of metal. Each of these poles bore a glass 'eye' at the top and these eyes collected beams of light reflecting from hundreds of silver dishes attached to the cliff face behind it. The eyes then directed the light to the top of a pillar in the centre of the circle. There, the light simply disappeared.
Something in that pillar throbbed with power. The air vibrated with it. It crept through her veins. Warmth spread inside her, familiar, soothing, and calling for more. 
Rough voices sounded behind her. The five men clambered up the sand dune, silhouetted by the light. One of them pointed. 
Jessica ran.


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## Patty Jansen (Apr 5, 2011)

Free 4-6 Sept!

US: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B004YDN934
UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B004YDN934


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## Simon Haynes (Mar 14, 2011)

Cool, hope it does well for you.

I'm reading one of your other titles right now - The Far Horizon - and it's great. I'm enjoying the build-up, and I'm wondering where it's all going to go wrong. (The events in the book, not the book itself!)


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## Patty Jansen (Apr 5, 2011)

Limited time now for 99c


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