Excerpt from WAKING SLEEPING BEAUTY by Kevin Moore:
Joanna soaked in a luxurious bathtub, the steam rising from the water. She was trying hard to get the stench of the landfill off of her and out of her nose. Outside, the night stars were dim next to the city lights twinkling in the distance, a beautiful illusion hiding all the city’s tiny little deaths. She put the hot washcloth over her face, sniffing the sweet-smelling bath scents.
No matter how godly or spiritual she wanted to be, Joanna couldn’t help but feel Jimmy got what he deserved. If it hadn’t been for a homeless woman, his burial site would have been a garbage dump. She knew he was lying about the kid. Jimmy knew he was chasing that kid right into the arms of the killer. Maybe she had been on the job too long. Some of these hustlers needed forgiveness. Others were plain old predators who got what they deserved. Joanna let the water calm her nerves. She thought of that quote her aunt gave her from Nietzsche when she first started working vice: “Beware that, when fighting monsters, you yourself don’t become one…for when you gaze into the abyss. The abyss also gazes into you.” It was somewhat of a Faustian dilemma. Sometimes, you had to trade the kind whispers of the soul for a perilous pact of darkness within yourself in order to catch the monster.
Joanna felt thoroughly cleansed of the day’s events, yet she was still no closer to the killer. She wanted to see Michael Saint Clair, so she picked up her cell phone.
“Hello, you,” he said.
“How about a night swim?” Joanna asked.
Joanna found Michael incredibly charming. He arrived with his bathing suit rolled up in a towel like you did as a kid. Michael stepped through the elegant double doors into the beautifully reimagined house. The living room, with its floor-to-ceiling glass walls, instantly showcased the sparkling blue pool and spectacular views of the city lights beyond. Michael was immediately impressed with its tasteful decor and artwork that hung from the walls. However, the unobstructed views of the sunset over the city and the inviting pool wowed him.
“Nice little place you have here,” he said, admiring the view and Joanna.
“Thank you. I grew up in this house.”
“Yes, the reporter in me wondered how a detective could afford the Hollywood hills with these views.”
“My aunt and my father bought this place back in the fifties. It’s long been paid off.”
Joanna and Michael’s laughter echoed through the air as they playfully raced each other across the pool. Freestyle for the first lap, backstroke on the way back. The lights in the pool changed colors, matching the sunset at times. The water sparkled as they challenged each other to underwater races, handstands, and cannonballs to see who could make the biggest splash. Joanna stared across the pool, Michael’s feet out of the water in a perfect handstand. He floated a few feet from where she was, coming up just short. His face and eyes reflected a connection Joanna hoped went beyond fleeting desire. Although his eyes and body language suggested he wanted to kiss her, Joanna dove under and held a one-handed handstand. They turned a simple evening swim into a joyful celebration of friendship and life. Kissing him was on her mind, but Joanna didn’t want to rush into anything, not even a simple kiss.
Joanna and Michael drip-dried in the relentless heat as they barbecued a couple of hamburgers and vegetables that consisted of carrots, zucchini, and mushrooms.
“My mother was Mexican, and my dad was from Boston. She came to Los Angeles hoping to be a choreographer. She did some music videos when MTV and videos were king.”
“What about your dad?”
“He was a contractor. He built my mother a small studio in the back of our yard where she taught dance.”
“Are they still with us?” Joanna asked, placing the vegetables on a plate.
“No, my mother didn’t make fifty, and my dad died last year.”
“Sorry…”
“What about you?” Michael asked.
“My dad died when I was ten. My mother drifted in and out of my life. But really, my Aunt Ruthie raised me,” she said.
“Your family made horror movies.”
Joanna nodded, handing him a cheeseburger.
“There is a meetup I occasionally go to. Dance group—it’s fun. Do you dance?”
Joanna thought about it. “I like to think so.”
“We should go.”
“Tonight?”
Michael nodded between bites of his burger.
The old dance hall exuded nostalgic charm with its worn, weathered wooden floors, vintage chandeliers casting a warm glow, and faded posters of past and recent dance events taped to the walls. The air was thick with sweat from the heat that the old air conditioner struggled to fight but could not overcome. Memories of countless twirls, budding romances, and the strains of music that once filled the ancient hall made it a timeless space that echoed with the lives and dancers who had been there before.
Joanna and Michael moved gracefully across the floor, performing a smooth Foxtrot with flowing movements and a mix of slow and quick steps. They were both dressed casually in light summer outfits that reflected the oppressive heat wave suffocating the city. She remained unaffected by the heat, blissfully surrendering herself to his embrace and his lead in the dance. Joanna imagined herself in a long, flowing gown and Michael in a tuxedo, tails swinging expertly across the floor.
“I think we have a shark…a dancing shark,” Michael said, whispering in her ear. “You are very graceful.”
“My aunt believed in dance classes for girls, and I found I loved it.”
The music changed to a fast and energetic dance beat.
“The Quickstep,” a voice boomed over a static-filled loudspeaker.
“I love this dance,” Michael said, and the two of them changed into a swinging movement with fast-paced footwork.
“Your mother taught you well,” Joanna said with a smile, her heart raced in peaceful surrender.
Michael twirled her. When she came back toward him, his voice was as charged as his feet were.
“She taught a lot of girls, and they needed dance partners,” Michael said, clearly loving their dance together. Joanna giggled, which was wholly out of character for her.
“Lucky me,” she whispered.
Neither of them wanted or needed to stop, and they floated through the Waltz and boogied through the Jive before moving into the sensuality of the Rumba with a slow Latin tempo and a strong connection between the two dance partners. Multiple times, they seemed close to a kiss, and Joanna longed to taste his lips and feel his tongue slide into her mouth. And as he leaned toward her, she envisioned the promise of sweet nights. The air conditioning burped a loud and abrupt clank, and off with it, the lights in the dance hall went.
Michael held her closely in his arms. “It should come on in a minute.” Only it didn’t. An exit door popped open, and the street lights stood at its door like an uninvited guest. A voice yelled out in the darkness of the hall, “Make your way to the exits and be careful.”
“Hold my hand,” Michael said as they fumbled in the dark, making their way to the exits and the night heat that still had not been silenced.
“Aren’t you glad we left everything in the car?” Michael said, as Joanna searched her phone for work messages.
“That was fun,” Joanna said, eyeing a text message that read: Here are some Ring videos you requested.
“What is it?” Michael asked, noticing the change on her face.
“I finally got some of the Ring videos from the day the kid was murdered. I’m hoping I can find one clear enough to identify the killer.”
Michael pulled up to the front of Joanna’s house. “They do this once a month,” he said. “We should do it again.”
“I’d love that,” she said as they both got out.
“I feel like we didn’t have a proper last dance,” he said, opening his arms.
“What do you mean? Dance right here?” Joanna asked, smiling; he was a little kooky but spontaneous. “We don’t have any music,” she said.
“Hey Siri, play ‘Dancing in the Moonlight’ by King Harvest,” Michael said into his iPhone, walking to Joanna and taking her in his arms. The music started, Michael spun her around, and the two of them moved gracefully up and down the middle of the street in front of her house.
When “Dancing in the Moonlight” finished, Michael pulled her close. When they kissed, he slipped his tongue between her lips, and she welcomed it. Joanna smiled at him as he opened his eyes. She had been thinking about how his kiss would be all night, and now, with his lips on hers, it didn’t disappoint.
Copyright © 2026 Kevin Moore. All rights reserved. Excerpt from WAKING SLEEPING BEAUTY.
WAKING SLEEPING BEAUTY by Kevin Moore
Narrator: Jennifer Pickens
Some stories don’t end with a kiss.
Some women don’t wait to be awakened.
Los Angeles is sweltering through Holy Week when a teenage hustler named Kiddy is murdered on Hollywood Boulevard in broad daylight. The investigation pulls Detective Joanna Steele into a conspiracy that reaches from Hollywood’s shadows to the highest levels of power.
Mia More is on the verge of superstardom when Kiddy crosses her path. What begins as concern becomes something far more dangerous: love, responsibility, and a fierce protective instinct that pulls her back into a world she once escaped. To save him, she may have to risk everything… including her life.
Lana DeMille drifts through Los Angeles with a fractured memory and nowhere left to land. Somewhere in the gaps of what she’s forgotten lies the truth about what happened to Kiddy—if she can piece together what she saw before the killer remembers her.
As the investigation tightens and the body count rises, the line between victim and predator blurs. In this dark, fierce reimagining of Sleeping Beauty, three women awaken to a truth someone will kill to keep buried—in a city where the most dangerous stories are the ones no one lives to tell.
Thriller Psychological [ Books Fluent, On Sale: October 20, 2026, Paperback / e-Book / audiobook, ISBN: 9798950140075 / ]
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About Kevin Moore
Kevin Moore is the imaginative storyteller behind Jack Kelly’s gripping paranormal adventures. His debut novel, The Book of Souls, earned an Amazon Editors’ Pick for Best Science Fiction & Fantasy and a Global Book Award Gold Medal for Ghost Fiction. The sequel, The Book of Demons—described as Harry Potter meets The Exorcist—was chosen as a BookLife Editors’ Pick. In early 2026, Moore continues the saga with Pandora’s Box and The Lost Boys, an even darker and more intense ride.
Moore also explores new ground with Waking Sleeping Beauty, a Neo-Noir Thriller about redemption and awakening. Bold, unsettling, and unforgettable—this is not your mother’s fairytale. The novel will be released in 2026.
Beyond the paranormal and noir, Moore’s Christmas Stories: 7 Original Short Stories became an Amazon #1 bestseller, while Christmas Stories Volume II won Gold in the Global Book Awards for Short Stories and was named a Christlit Book Award Winner.
A lucid dreamer, certified yoga teacher, and Advanced Reiki Practitioner, Moore infuses his storytelling with depth and spiritual resonance. His books captivate, inspire, and linger long after the final page.
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