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ZOMBIES! The Wild West! Romance! Mayhem!

Angela Scott's Zombie West Omnibus has all this, and more!

"...this is one of the most unique concepts I've come across." --Brian, Amazon reviewer

"These books had me on the edge of my seat and at one point in book three I had to set the book down and pull myself out of the story so I wouldn't cry." --Emily Pearce, Amazon reviewer

"This series is one that will stay with you for a long time, prompting you to want to read it again and again." --Tracy Haidle, Amazon reviewer

About the Zombie West Omnibus

The Wild West is hard enough to survive with its native territory, wanted outlaws, and harsh terrain, but with a plague turning civilized people into brain-eating monsters, survival becomes nearly impossible. Red has lost everything to the fast-spreading disease: her family, her trust in mankind, and her hope for a better tomorrow. When she meets Trace, a smooth-talking gambling man who’s more city boy than cowboy, she’s forced down a path she’d been avoiding for years. Until his arrival, she’d lived by a certain set of rules—don’t ask names, keep to yourself, don’t let anyone too close—but the jackass of a man won’t let her be, and he has an uncanny knack for appearing at all the wrong times and in all the wrong places. Each, with a secret of their own, will need to learn that only by working together do they have any chance of surviving The Zombie West. That is, if they don’t kill each other first. [Angela Scott’s Zombie West Omnibus includes the three books in the Zombie West series WANTED: DEAR OR UNDEAD, SURVIVOR ROUNDUP, and DEAD PLAINS. Find these books on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, iTunes, Kobo, and Smashwords.] Genre classification: YA/Western Romance/Action and Adventure/ with added zombies for utter mayhem.

Excerpt

Red lost track of how many bullets she'd fired, until the dreaded click of an empty chamber. She knelt on the ground, with an eye on the approaching mob, and slipped her hand inside one of her saddlebags in a frantic search for more ammunition, but came up empty.

Damn it.

She searched the other saddlebag, and though the cool metal cartridges graced her fingertips, she had to let them go. The zombies fell upon her. Swinging the rifle above her head, she slammed the butt of the weapon into the face of the closest walker, breaking its bloody jaw, but failing to hinder its progress. She swung again and connected with its skull, which bust open and sent the zombie sprawling to the ground at her feet. One down, but six more ready to destroy her, each aiming for a limb, an organ, a bit of flesh, a chunk of her existence.

"Reload." Wen yelled. The blade of his machete sung through the air and sliced through the neck of the nearest zombie, separating the head from its body. "Do it! Now!"

He beheaded two more as she grabbed a handful of bullets and jammed them into the rifle, her handsshakier than normal. She cocked the gun in one swift movement and fired just left of Wen, taking down the decomposed walker.

"Jeez, watch it!" Wen eyed her as if she was crazy.

To prove she was a better shot than both of the men, she fired once more to the right of Wen, within inches of his shoulder, sending a bullet into the zombie he planned to decapitate.

He whipped around. "Okay, I get it!"

No more time for games. She rolled onto her side and fired more bullets as the band of walking dead crept nearer.

Wen sliced through heads with a skill that impressed her, and held them at bay while she reloaded—a team effort she highly appreciated.

Red had no idea what Cowboy was up to, but heard him firing off shots of his own. She worked with Wen to kill the crowd of wagon zombies that advanced upon them. Mothers, fathers, teamsters, small children—it didn't matter. Sentiment had no place in zombie annihilation. She didn't miss a single target, as each forehead was penetrated and the dilapidated bodies collapsed to the ground.

When no more approached from her direction, she waited for a second to be sure, and then rolled onto her belly to take on any coming from behind. Only there weren't any. A pleasant, yet unexpected surprise. Cowboy stood there, watching and waiting with his rifle raised. Wen held his machete across his chest, ready as well. Silence prevailed, but for the sound of their own rapid breathing. As quickly as it had begun, it ended, but none of them were willing to let their guard down just yet.

"Everyone okay?" Cowboy asked, the butt of his rifle still pressed against his shoulder. "Anyone bit? Hurt?"

Wen shook his head. "I'm good. I'm real good."

Red slowly stood, her rifle shaking in her hands. "I'm good too."

"Perfect." Cowboy lowered his weapon and smiled. "Couldn't have gone better."

"We need to burn the bodies. Pile them. Set them ablaze. But"—she indicated the bloody mess that covered her from head to toe with an unnatural tremble in her fingers—"I need to get this off of me."

Cowboy scanned her body and lingered on her bare legs poking out from under her night shirt.

"Go." He turned away out of respect. "We'll keep an eye out and start putting them in a pile. Get cleaned up."

Red stepped over the zombie corpses littering her path and returned to the wagon that had provided such peace the night before. Her hands twitched more now, but she managed to toss the remaining dead zombie out onto the ground before sinking onto a clean area of the mattress.

She inched up the bottom of her soiled night shirt to reveal what she knew was there all along—a gaping hole on her thigh, several inches deep. The bite mark bubbled and spilled red, foamy droplets onto the mattress below. She didn't know which zombie had bit her or when it happened, not that the details mattered, only that the pain was excruciating and its liquid heat radiated through her veins. She balled her fist and punched the mattress once, then twice more.

Damn it.

With nothing more to do, she leaned her head back against the side of the wagon and waited.

About Angela Scott

Angela Scott hears voices. Tiny fictional people sit on her shoulders and whisper their stories in her ear. Instead of medicating herself, she decided to pick up a pen, write down everything those voices tell me, and turn it into a book. She’s not crazy. She’s an author. For the most part, she writes contemporary Young Adult novels. However, through a writing exercise that spiraled out of control, she found herself writing about zombies terrorizing the Wild Wild West–and loving it. Her zombies don’t sparkle, and they definitely don’t cuddle. At least, she wouldn’t suggest it. She lives on the benches of the beautiful Wasatch Mountains with two lovely children, one teenager, and a very patient husband. She graduated from Utah State University with a B.A. degree in English, not because of her love for the written word, but because it was the only major that didn’t require math. She can’t spell, and grammar is her arch nemesis. But they gave her the degree, and there are no take backs. Find Angela Scott on her website, Facebook, Twitter, and Goodreads.