Conjoined - Book Tour and Giveaway

At their relationship’s core lies a convergence of secrets and deception, while their heart showcases the unbreakable bond that binds two souls in a twisted dance of deceit.

Conjoined
by K.T. George
Genre: Psychological Thriller 

Allyson Marta is a celebrated mixed-media artist dwelling in the shadows of Seattle's gritty underbelly. She struggles with Borderline Personality Disorder while grappling with the jagged edges of self-harm and past suicide attempts. Her identical twin, Andrea, is a hedonist at heart. She thrives as the vibrant art director of the cult-favorite "The Caretaker" horror movie series, which ensnares devotees in its macabre embrace. When H0rr Studios, the go-to streaming service of horror fans worldwide and Andrea's employer, reports her missing, Allyson finds herself torn between her ongoing recovery and helping to unravel the mystery shrouding her histrionic twin's whereabouts

After Roger Wotke, the star of The Caretaker, also disappears, Allyson is thrust into a perilous crossroads where the twin demons of mental anguish and familial duty collide. In a descent into the abyss of society's dark appetite for what goes bump in the night, Allyson grapples with safeguarding her tenuous sanity or delving deeper into the labyrinth of depravity that threatens to expose not just her own darkest secrets, but also those of her family.


Early reviews:
“Creepy…Addictive…” – Goodreads reviewer.

“…draws the reader in quickly and the plot, characters, dialogue…make it hard to put down.” – ARC review.
“…an especially fascinating read.” – Bookbaby Editor

“That twist at the end! Seriously freaking great! the very last page” – Goodreads reviewer.
​
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Bang. Bang. Bang. The door rattled like a 7.0 earthquake.
“Allyson Marta?”
“Yes?” she croaked, placing her hand on the doorknob.
“I’m Detective Davidson. I need to ask you a few questions. May I
come in?”
Allyson’s neck and shoulders visibility tightened as if she could mag-
ically shrink herself into a tiny ball.
Grace went over and placed a hand on her back. “Just breathe.”
“I’m too stoned for this,” she whispered.
“Ms. Marta?”
“Yeah, yeah. Give me a second.” Allyson paused, her hand on the
knob, before yanking the door open to an average-height, middle-aged man dressed in the typical off-the-rack suit he probably bought at some big box retailer on sale. She leaned against the door jamb, blocking his entry.
“ID, please.” She trusted no one and always assumed the worst in people. Once he proffered his credentials and she gave them a casual glance, she allowed him to enter. Even though he was average on the outside, his presence filled the room. She and Grace observed him scanning her shelves neatly lined with knickknacks and failed art projects as if he were Hercule Poirot.
“How can I help, Detective?” she asked, scratching a nonexistent itch on her arm.
Davidson walked toward a console table with pictures arranged by size and age. Picking up a 4x6 gilded frame, he turned and held it out. “Is this you?”
“Who does it look like?” Grace hissed.
“I’m sorry. You are?” Davidson asked.
Ignoring his question, Grace cautioned, “Listen, Detective, unless
you have a warrant, state your business, and go. We are a protected class. Hispanic and emotionally challenged. Harassment is frowned upon by our treatment teams.”
Glowering, he turned to Allyson. “Is this your sister, Andrea Marta?”
“Yeah. That’s her and me at my last exhibit. She loves the camera.” Allyson played with an errant string on her shirt hem, noting to clip it later. Biting her lip, she lowered her head where her eyes caught the misaligned seam of her left sock. Suddenly, everything seemed malapropos.
“It’s hard to believe we are identical twins when you look at that pic- ture. It was like five years ago, and I’ve been going through a rough patch,” she admitted, rubbing her hand along the top of her head.
Allyson had gained thirty pounds from the drug cocktail she’d been prescribed and chopped her long tresses, leaving only an inch or so in place. Most days, it stuck out in random spikes. To add dimension and fun, she’d dyed it her favorite color, a soft lavender. She had also plucked her eyebrows and eyelashes out one by one as a non-scarring form of self-harm six months prior. They had yet to grow back. Slow hair growth was a surprise, unadver- tised side-effect of her meds.
“What’s this about anyway? Is she in trouble?” she edged, chewing at a cuticle on her right hand.
“Your sister’s employer, H0rr Studios, has reported her missing. Have you heard from her or seen her recently?”
“Do you have any idea where she might go? Anyone she would stay with, off the grid, say?”
An icy chill hugged her shoulders despite being seventy-five degrees inside her apartment, and she narrowed her gaze at Mr. Average. His ques- tions didn’t feel right to her. “Let me check my wonder twin powers and see,” she scowled and pretended to check her smartwatch.
“I told you my life was rather tragic this last year. Did I mention her visiting? Just because we share the same DNA does not give me insight into her life. If her employer reported her missing, they have more information on the ins and outs of it than I do. However, leave your card, and if some- thing comes up, I’ll call,” she offered dismissively.
Grace regarded Allyson and grinned, appreciating her out-of-char- acter assertiveness.
Detective Davidson handed the picture frame to Grace before giving Allyson his business card. “My cell is on the back. If anything comes to mind, no matter how small, text me along with her case reference number.”
“Sure,” she answered in an “I’ll get right on that” tone. Then she opened the door to encourage Davidson’s exit.
Before stepping across the threshold, the detective stopped and turned to face the two occupants, “Oh! I almost forgot. Do you know Roger Wotke?” “The Caretaker guy?” she asked, curling her lip and wrinkling her nose.
“Yeah.”
Allyson shrugged. “He works with Andrea. Oh, and I think he’s in town. Comic Con’s this weekend.”
“Yeah, he is. That freak of hotness,” Grace added dreamily. “Got me tickets for a meet and greet!”
“What does he have to do with my sister missing?” Roger and Andrea had a relationship but kept it casual and confidential. As much as she hated Andrea, she wasn’t about to give out anything that wasn’t anyone’s business but their own.
“It’s hard to say. Yet a guy who has played a psychopath for over ten years and wears his costume in public to hide his real identity is someone worth looking into, I’d say.”
Grace laughed. “Don’t kid yourself, Detective. We all wear costumes to hide our true nature. Even you.” Then they shut the door in his face. 
​​

​K.T. George resides in the heart of Chicago with their family of four and their beloved fluffer, Lincoln. They draw inspiration from the vibrant cityscape that surrounds them and the people who live there. Formerly an esteemed I.T. Executive and cybersecurity expert, their unique ability to seamlessly transition from science to art has cemented their status as a formidable force in the literary realm. Learn more at www.ktgeorge.com.


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