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    Ebook96 pages1 hour

    Money Back Guarantee

    By Hunter Shea

    4.5/5

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    About this ebook

    YOUR MONEY BACK OR YOUR LIFE . . .
     
    Protect America’s shores with your very own nuclear submarine! Constructed from durable fiberboard material, this submersible is large enough for two kids! Sail off into imaginative international intrigue for just $1.99! If this toy doesn’t float your boat, return it for a full refund!
     
    With her son’s heart set on piloting his own nuclear submarine, Rosemary Lanchester orders the craft advertised on the back of a comic book. What arrives is more sub-standard than submarine, but her son loves the cheap piece of cardboard. Until he and a friend nearly drown when they take the sub for a deep sea dive in the swimming pool.
     
    Enraged, Rosemary reports the toy’s manufacturer to the Better Business Bureau. The company’s customer service center retaliates with threatening phone calls. Then her son and husband mysteriously disappear.
     
    To save her family, Rosemary tracks down the company’s headquarters with the help of her brother—a survivalist with enough toys of his own to wage an all-out war.
     
    And she still wants her $1.99 refunded.
     
    Praise for Hunter Shea
     
    “Old school horror.”—Jonathan Maberry
     
    “A lot of splattery fun.”—Publishers Weekly
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherLyrical Press
    Release dateOct 3, 2017
    ISBN9781516102815
    Money Back Guarantee
    Author

    Hunter Shea

    Hunter Shea is the product of a misspent childhood watching scary movies, reading forbidden books and wishing Bigfoot was real. He’s the author of over 17 books, including 'The Jersey Devil' and 'We Are Always Watching'. Hunter’s novels can even be found on display at the International Cryptozoology Museum.

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    4.5/5

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    • 5/5
      The latest installment in the Mail Order massacres series is a total blast (quite literally)! This time, the story is about a mail-ordered submarine, which turns out to be nothing more than a large piece of cardboard. When her son almost drowns on his undersea adventure in his friend's swimming pool, Rosemary Lanchester is determined to get her money back. But it seems the address of AdventureCo, the company who sold the crap toy, does not exist. Then the anonymous phone calls start, insulting Rosemary and threatening her family. When her husband and son disappear, Rosemary is determined to get them back and give AdventureCo not only a piece of her mind, but some bullets as well...There were several scenes, especially at the beginning of the story, that reminded me of my own son, e.g. the enthusiasm with which Dwight played with the submarine. Where his parents saw only a cheap piece of cardboard, Dwight was not disappointed, but thrilled to have his own submarine and with his imagination made it come to life. Also, the deep disappointment when the submarine was ruined by the water, and before that the naive believe that it should have been able to swim at all. Or Dwight's outburst of anger towards Rosemary when she decides to trash the replacement sub instead of letting him play with it because she thinks it's such a dangerous fraud. While I'm not so sure I would have acted the same way, I totally agree with her determination to protect her son at all costs.The last part of the story is a satisfying action- and bullet-packed roller coaster of a showdown, though it ended with a mean little twist.Afterthought: I wonder whether Dwight got a look at the mysterious man but maybe was better capable to deal with it because of his still unlimited childish imagination.A great story and hopefully not the last in this spectacular series.(Thanks to Netgalley, the author, and the publisher for a copy of the book, all opinions are my own)
    • 5/5
      Not to nitpick but my obsessive compulsive nature requires that I state that the money back guarantee was for 5 dollars, not $1.99

      Having previously read Optical Delusion and Just Add Water by Hunter Shea I was anxiously awaiting this third installment, and as much as I enjoyed both of those, this is by far my favorite adventure into the horrors of mail order shopping.

      Set in the 1980s and steeped in all it's glorious culture of Tupperware parties this fast paced horror takes what should be a mundane ordinary experience and turns it into something horrifying.
      Against her better judgment, Rosemary allows herself to be talked into purchasing a toy from an advertisement in the back of a comic book for her son Dwight. Naturally, when it finally arrives it's a piece of junk. When Dwight and his friend nearly drown while playing, Rosemary has quite literally a hell of time trying to track down the elusive "AdventureCo" manufacturer that nobody has ever heard of. Unfortunately for Rosemary, AdventureCO has heard of her, and they do not like complaints.

      I received an advance copy for review.

    Book preview

    Money Back Guarantee - Hunter Shea

    Copy Cover

    YOUR MONEY BACK OR YOUR LIFE . . .

    Protect America’s shores with your very own nuclear submarine! Constructed from durable fiberboard material, this submersible is large enough for two kids! Sail off into imaginative international intrigue for just $1.99! If this toy doesn’t float your boat, return it for a full refund!

    With her son’s heart set on piloting his own nuclear submarine, Rosemary Lanchester orders the craft advertised on the back of a comic book. What arrives is more substandard than submarine, but her son loves the cheap piece of cardboard. Until he and a friend nearly drown when they take the sub for a deep sea dive in the swimming pool.

    Enraged, Rosemary reports the toy’s manufacturer to the Better Business Bureau. The company’s customer service center retaliates with threatening phone calls. Then her son and husband mysteriously disappear.

    To save her family, Rosemary tracks down the company’s headquarters with the help of her brother—a survivalist with enough toys of his own to wage an all-out war.

    And she still wants her $1.99 refunded.

    Visit us at www.kensingtonbooks.com

    Books by Hunter Shea

    The Jersey Devil

    Tortures of the Damned

    The Montauk Monster

    Just Add Water

    Optical Delusion

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    Money Back Guarantee

    Hunter Shea

    LYRICAL PRESS

    Kensington Publishing Corp.

    www.kensingtonbooks.com

    Copyright

    Lyrical Press books are published by

    Kensington Publishing Corp. 119 West 40th Street New York, NY 10018

    Copyright © 2017 by Shea Hunter

    All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

    All Kensington titles, imprints, and distributed lines are available at special quantity discounts for bulk purchases for sales promotion, premiums, fund- raising, and educational or institutional use.

    To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

    Special book excerpts or customized printings can also be created to fit specific needs. For details, write or phone the office of the Kensington Special Sales Manager:

    Kensington Publishing Corp.

    119 West 40th Street

    New York, NY 10018

    Attn. Special Sales Department. Phone: 1-800-221-2647.

    Kensington and the K logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

    LYRICAL PRESS Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

    Lyrical Press and the L logo are trademarks of Kensington Publishing Corp.

    First Electronic Edition: October 2017

    eISBN-13: 978-1-5161-0281-5

    eISBN-10: 1-5161-0281-9

    Printed in the United States of America

    Dedication

    For Ginger, one cool chick with mad skills

    Chapter One

    1982

    Edensbury, New Hampshire

    Survivor’s Eye of the Tiger played for the millionth time on the radio, a crisp spring breeze tickling the back of Rosemary Lanchester’s neck while she sat at the kitchen table calculating her take from last night’s haul. It had been a hell of an evening. Her best so far.

    Almost better than robbing banks, she said. Except much safer.

    She paused and considered changing the station. Eye of the Tiger normally irritated her, its constant presence on both AM and FM bands this side of water torture. But the radio was across the kitchen on the fridge, and at this moment she thought, I do have the eye of the tiger.

    She couldn’t help but think of the Virginia Slims slogan, You’ve Come a Long Way, Baby. Sure it was borderline sexist, but it drove the point home. She felt a brief shudder when she thought about how things could have gone for her.

    And they said I couldn’t be domesticated, she said with a chuckle.

    Now she craved a cigarette. But that wasn’t going to happen. She’d quit a year ago, and despite countless urges, she hadn’t picked up a single Slim since.

    Gavin’s leaden footsteps bumbled about upstairs. He’d be down any minute now, ready for his Sunday grapefruit and coffee. Rosemary couldn’t wait to show him.

    Little hobby, my ass.

    Huh?

    Her son, Dwight, waltzed into the kitchen as silent as a stalking panther, sleep crust in the corners of his eyes, hair standing on end as if he’d jammed his finger in an electrical socket…again.

    Oh, nothing. You want some cereal?

    He eyed the paperwork scattered atop the table.

    "Can I eat Sugar Pops in the living room? Scooby-Doo is on."

    She poured him a bowl, added the tiniest splash of milk (he refused to eat cereal once it got soggy), and brought it to the coffee table in the living room, along with a cinnamon Pop-Tart and a glass of orange juice. He jammed his spoon into the center of the Sugar Pops, shoveling it in as fast as he could, eyes already glazed over from the sugar high while he watched Shaggy steal Scooby’s snacks.

    Gavin lumbered down the stairs in his brown yard-work slacks, itchy sweater that was so stained she wondered why she even bothered to wash it anymore, and battered Hush Puppies. It could be a hundred degrees and he had to wear that sweater to work on the yard. She swore he suffered through heat exhaustion just to embarrass her.

    Morning, babe, he said, kissing her on the cheek. He followed her into the kitchen. She took the grapefruit out of the fridge, cut it in half, and cleared a spot for him to eat.

    What’s all this? he said, working at the grapefruit with a serrated spoon. A squirt of juice splattered on his sweater. The old rag just absorbed the splotch, melding it with the others.

    Rosemary imagined the other blemishes chanting, One of us, as they accepted it into the family of filth.

    She poured them each a cup of coffee and sat next to him, unable to keep her smile reaching from ear to ear.

    Those, my dear, are my sales slips from last night’s Tupperware party.

    He shuffled through the orders between sips of coffee. What’s this number here?

    That’s my commission for each sale. You want to know how much it adds up to?

    Gavin grinned. I have a feeling no matter what I say, you’re going to tell me anyway.

    Sixty-seven dollars!

    Whoa. Are you kidding me?

    Nope. And that’s even with me taking out the money I spent on the fondue and snacks for the ladies. How do you like that?

    He reached over and squeezed her hand. "I love it. Being sequestered in

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