Wednesday, February 4, 2015

JOHN SMITH : Last Known Survivor of the #Microsoft Wars by Roland Hughes #Dystopian #Excerpt


SK:  I ask again, what was the truth according to John Smith?
JS:    Later in life, when people were counting the number of wells and starting to not buy the “dead Dino” story, scientists made an even more ludicrous claim.  They claimed the jungle and forest, which covered all of the land during the age of the dinosaur, was also decomposing and creating large pools of oil.
SK:  Why was this so ludicrous?
JS:    Admittedly, plant and animal life will share some mineral content, and all things will create some kind of goo when they reach that liquefying stage of decomposition.  However, I do find it a stretch that both would end up creating crude oil, no matter how much heat and time were applied, unless crude is a very tiny subset of minerals that survive decomposition. 
Eventually, scientists started claiming crude was caused by decaying plant and animal life.  I guess fish never played into the formula.  Scientists really had no choice.  They had to explain to an increasingly skeptical public why some crude was yellow and some black.  Some crude was fast-flowing liquid and other crude was a solid brick.
SK:  I ask again, what was the truth according to John Smith?
JS:    Crude oil is decomposing humans from earlier cycles.  Each cycle lasts an unbelievably long time, as far as human life  is concerned.  Humans, by and large, have a need to build communities.  As the cycle progresses, these communities become cities of a massive scale.  When the earth shifts and heaves its continents around, these cities are buried deep in a matter of hours, if not seconds.  They are buried deep without air or the nutrients needed for bacterial decomposition.
The steel eventually reverts back to iron and carbon; the concrete, to limestone and sand.  I’m not certain what happens to the glass other than the fact it is crushed into pieces so tiny one wouldn’t notice them coming up with the drilling mud.  The humans and their pets, though—they are crushed and eventually, the heat of the earth cooks them into crude.
SK:  That is a disgusting thing to say.  We have one of those oil sites oozing stuff out of the ground near our city! People use it for all kinds of things.
JS:    Humans are useful in a variety of forms.  Have they invented a product called petroleum jelly yet?  It’s kind of greasy, helps cuts heal and looks a lot like animal fat.
SK:  Oh!  I cannot believe I’m being forced to sit here and listen to this!
JS:    Do you think I’m the first to point something like this out?  I suppose you have never heard of cannibalism either?
SK:  Another disgusting tale to frighten children!
JS:    Oh no.  It was real and existed in various forms around the globe.  Even in large cities, where everybody claimed it never happened, you would see the occasional news report that someone had been arrested with pieces of humans in their fridge or freezer.  There was even a movie about the earth running out of food and governments taking it upon themselves to make cannibalism palatable to the masses.
SK:  I simply cannot accept the premise anybody would believe such a story.
JS:    The story became a legend.  They would simply herd people to different areas of each city.  One area would be selected for recycling.  The people would be processed and turned into little food squares of “Soylent Green.”  There were lots of different colors of food squares made from the various forms of food still available but there wasn’t enough to go around.

“John Smith: Last Known Survivor of the Microsoft Wars” is one big interview. It is a transcript of a dialogue between “John Smith” (who, as the title of the book implies is the last known survivor of the Microsoft wars) and the interviewer for a prominent news organization.
Buy Now @ Amazon & B&N
Genre – Dystopian Fiction
Rating – PG
More details about the author

Wednesday, January 21, 2015

WHAT FREEDOM SMELLS LIKE #Excerpt by Amy Lewis @AmyLewisAuthor #AmReading #Memoir #TBR

Every single item that you buy in life, that outlives you, someone, some person, has to deal with. Has to pack, has to decide what to do with: to sell, to donate, to throw away? If you sell it you have to decide how much to sell it for, maybe even research what similar items go for; you have to advertise, you have to exchange money, maybe even make change. If you donate you have to pack up, decide what charity or friend to give it to, usually you have to bring it to them or arrange to be home when they come by. You have to make sure it works because you don’t want to donate something that is broken. If you throw it away you have to lug it, schlep it to a waste bin and if it’s a lot of things to a dumpsite. You don’t think about this when you have money in your pocket and want things.

Every item in our Vegas house had a memory connected to it. Now I had to decide what to do with them all. I rented a huge storage space close to my parent’s house. It was almost as big as our first tiny slum apartment. All of our stuff had been deposited there.

The week after he died, I had gone into our walk-in closet in Vegas and sniffed every item of his clothing, removing those pieces that still had his scent and packaging them into gallon size vacuum packed Ziploc bags. I imagined this was a new use for Ziploc bags they probably never advertised: preserving the scent of the dead. I would have taken his clothes in the dirty laundry basket, but my father had washed them. I cried when I found him in the laundry room trying to be helpful. I put the zip locked bags of clothes under my bed in my parent’s guest bedroom.

whatFreedomSmellsLike

Diagnosed with Borderline Personality disorder, Amy struggled with depression and an addiction to sharp objects. Even hospitalization didn't help to heal her destructive tendencies. It took a tumultuous relationship with a man named Truth to bring her back from the depths of her own self-made hell.Amy's marriage to dark, intriguing Truth was both passionate and stormy. She was a fair-skinned southern girl from New Orleans. He was a charming black man with tribal tattoos, piercings, and a mysterious past. They made an unlikely pair, but something clicked. During their early marriage, they pulled themselves out of abject poverty into wealth and financial security practically overnight. Then things began to fall apart.

Passionate and protective, Truth also proved violent and abusive. Amy’s own self-destructive tendencies created a powerful symmetry. His sudden death left Amy with an intense and warring set of emotions: grief for the loss of the man she loved, relief she was no longer a target for his aggression.

Conflicted and grieving, Amy found herself at a spiritual and emotional crossroads, only to receive help from an unlikely source: Truth himself. Feeling his otherworldly presence in her dreams, Amy seeks help from a famous medium.

Her spiritual encounters change Amy forever. Through Truth, she learns her soul is eternal and indestructible, a knowledge that gives Amy the courage to pursue her own dreams and transform herself both physically and emotionally. Her supernatural encounters help Amy resolve the internal anger and self-destructive tendencies standing between her and happiness, culminating in a sense of spiritual fulfillment she never dreamed possible.

An amazing true story, What Freedom Smells Like is told with courage, honesty, and a devilishly dark sense of humor.

Buy Now @ Amazon
Genre – Memoir
Rating – PG-13
More details about the author
Connect with Amy Lewis through Twitter

Wednesday, November 19, 2014

"Geronimo" from LUCIFER & THE INDIGO KIDS by @Lord_Ra_Krishna #AmReading #Philosophy #Poetry

Geronimo... (and the ones with religion)

Dear Geronimo...
My Great, Great grand Father

They took you from us
And our people were slaughtered...

They didn't break your spirit
You passed it unto me

And I will spark the movement
As soon as I get free...

They hunted and chased you
I clearly remember
They would have never caught you
They're lucky you surrendered...

They tricked you and stole your land
and we even have the audacity to celebrate Thanksgiving...

They used you for mascots
the Red Skins
and the Chiefs

Your great land was stolen
By the ones with religion...



"This “new age” book of poetry reflects the diverse views and philosophies of it’s author Ra Krishna EL. It’s an intimate, humorous and thought provoking group of poems intended to evoke strong emotion. To quote the German philosopher, Friedrich Nietzsche, this style of poetry can be called “Zukunfts poesie“ which translates into “Poetry of the future”, where truly original ideas are presented thru poetry. Also known as post Nietzschean poetry.

It’s subjects include society, pop culture, love, religious dogma, God and the new age of Aquarius. This book was written and published during the false incarceration of its author in Chicago’s notorious Cook County Jail, the largest jail in the country."

Buy Now @ Amazon
Genre - Poetry, Philosophy
Rating – PG-13
More details about the author
Connect with Lord Ra Krishna EL on Facebook & Twitter

Thursday, November 6, 2014

Mike Hartner on Books He Loves to Read & Writing @MHartnerAuthor #AmReading #Romance #HistFic

Who is your favorite author?
It’s a close battle between Mark Twain, William Shakespeare, Jules Verne, Alexandre Dumas, and Victor Hugo

What book genre of books do you adore?
Historical Fiction, and YA Romance

What book should everybody read at least once?
The Count of Monte Cristo. By far the best revenge novel in history.

Are there any books you really don’t enjoy?

Many books are mood items. I don’t deliberately look for Satanic, or Halloween books, but vampires and others are an occasional read.

What do you hope your obituary will say about you?
I hope my obituary will show me surrounded by people who love me, and will say that I made a difference.

Location and life experiences can really influence writing, tell us where you grew up and where you now live?
I was born in Miami, grew up in Montana and Saskatchewan, and now live in Vancouver, BC.

How did you develop your writing?
First, by writing poetry, and then by listening to others tell stories.

Where do you get your inspiration from?
My muse. She brings in the lead characters from my books, and gives me the opportunity to listen, transcribe and elaborate.

What is hardest – getting published, writing or marketing?

More and more in today’s world, I have to say marketing. Publishing is going through a Renaissance, where nearly everyone can be published. But very few books get exposed because not everyone is a good marketer. And what works for one author or book may not work for another.

IJames

James Crofter was ripped from his family at age 11. 
Within a year the prince was a pauper in a foreign land. 
Is nature stronger than nurture? And even if it is, can James find the happiness he so richly desires? 

Buy Now @ Amazon
Genre - Historical Fiction, Romance
Rating – PG
More details about the author
Connect with Mike Hartner on Facebook & Twitter

Tuesday, November 4, 2014

WHAT FREEDOM SMELLS LIKE: A #Memoir by Amy Lewis @AmyLewisAuthor #Excerpt #NonFiction

There are certain advantages to being a widow. As a trade- off they are certainly not worth it, but from one who always searches for the silver lining, they are worth mentioning. I sat on the front steps of a run-down Creole cottage, the location of a weekly widow’s group I joined, and talked to Jim, who had lost his wife to cancer two years ago.

“In the weeks and months after her death, I experienced a sense of clarity about life unlike anything I had ever known. The lucidity is mixed in with the shock and grief and craziness of the process, but it is not insanity. This gift is true wisdom. But know this. It fades with time. So use it. Use it before it goes away.”

There were other advantages as well and many in my group reported the same experiences:

Weight loss: Food held little interest or taste for me, and the pounds miraculously began to melt off of me with no effort on my part.

The W Retort: The cards, wishes, and calls from loved ones came and then after the first month mostly went away. But I was quick to use the W word whenever I needed it or wanted it to protect me. “Hey my husband just died, get out of my face”. “I can’t possibly deal with your two hundred thousand dollar bill” I told the hospital administrator on the phone. “I was just widowed, you know, thanks to your incompetent doctors.” It was just an insurance billing error they later said. I managed to get about six grand in late tax penalties removed with a finely crafted letter to the IRS utilizing the W word. The distinction of young W even more effective.

Fearlessness: Best of all, I simply wasn’t afraid of the things that normally I would be. In fact, nothing seemed to scare me. The typical “bad day” went undistinguished against the backdrop of the worst year of my life. Washing machine breaks shooting out suds that flood the laundry room? Que sera sera. You want to rob me? Ok. You want to audit me. Be my guest. You want to shoot me? That looks just like my husband’s gun. Oh my dead husband, he just died. Let me see that thing. I want to touch it.

In the first three months, I cycled between states of unbearable sadness, confusion and anger. The pain smashed into me in waves. I felt reasonably normal and then reality would hit. Most days still felt like a dream state. This can’t be happening. This didn’t just happen. A huge sense of incredulousness hung over me like the first time Truth struck me. Oh no you did not just hit me. Oh no you did not just get sick on me and die.

Who are you? And where are you? I missed his touch. How big and muscular his hands were. I missed his ear-to-ear grin and his smell and his face and his laugh and his skin and his tattoos and the way he greeted me each morning: Good morning Mrs. Lewis. I missed how secure I felt with him as CEO of our business. But, I didn’t miss his moods, his fist, his threats, his guns, his jealousy, and his complete domination over me. Day to day life was easier for me as a widow; that I could not deny.

whatFreedomSmellsLike

Diagnosed with Borderline Personality disorder, Amy struggled with depression and an addiction to sharp objects. Even hospitalization didn't help to heal her destructive tendencies. It took a tumultuous relationship with a man named Truth to bring her back from the depths of her own self-made hell.Amy's marriage to dark, intriguing Truth was both passionate and stormy. She was a fair-skinned southern girl from New Orleans. He was a charming black man with tribal tattoos, piercings, and a mysterious past. They made an unlikely pair, but something clicked. During their early marriage, they pulled themselves out of abject poverty into wealth and financial security practically overnight. Then things began to fall apart.

Passionate and protective, Truth also proved violent and abusive. Amy’s own self-destructive tendencies created a powerful symmetry. His sudden death left Amy with an intense and warring set of emotions: grief for the loss of the man she loved, relief she was no longer a target for his aggression.

Conflicted and grieving, Amy found herself at a spiritual and emotional crossroads, only to receive help from an unlikely source: Truth himself. Feeling his otherworldly presence in her dreams, Amy seeks help from a famous medium.

Her spiritual encounters change Amy forever. Through Truth, she learns her soul is eternal and indestructible, a knowledge that gives Amy the courage to pursue her own dreams and transform herself both physically and emotionally. Her supernatural encounters help Amy resolve the internal anger and self-destructive tendencies standing between her and happiness, culminating in a sense of spiritual fulfillment she never dreamed possible.

An amazing true story, What Freedom Smells Like is told with courage, honesty, and a devilishly dark sense of humor.

Buy Now @ Amazon
Genre – Memoir
Rating – PG-13
More details about the author
Connect with Amy Lewis through Twitter

Wednesday, October 29, 2014

Kirsten Mortensen on First, Second or Third Voice : The Power of POV @KirstenWriter #WriteTip #Suspense

First, Second, or Third Voice: The Power of POV
By Kirsten Mortensen, Author of Dark Chemistry

Like a lot of authors, I’ve experimented with voice. I’ve written in the first person. I’ve written in the third person. And I’ve even toyed with the second person—breaking the 20th Century rule of “no authorial intrusion.” Because hey, I’m a rebel. Rules are made to be broken!

So I thought I’d share a bit about what I’ve learned about voice.

Some of my insights are similar to what you’ve probably read elsewhere, or know from experimenting with voice yourself. Certain genres lend themselves naturally to first person POV, for example. I can’t imagine classic chick lit (think Bridget Jones's Diary) in anything other than first person. Ditto for hard-boiled crime fiction, like Raymond Chandler’s Philip Marlowe novels.

As a writer, first person voice can be a kick as a literary device. There’s the fun of the Unreliable Narrator, for example. The person telling the story inevitably filters events through her assumptions or prejudices. She may even lie outright to protect someone else, or to show herself in a positive light.

A person narrating a story is also on a journey. He or she is discovering things, assembling puzzle pieces. Who committed the murder? Is the handsome boss an unreliable flirt or a modern day prince? With first person, we readers get to ride along as the narrator solves these kinds of questions.

First person POV can also help make a reader’s experience more sympathetic. I learned this the hard way. When I first drafted one of my novels (When Libby Met the Fairies), I wrote it in the first person. But later, I second-guessed myself and re-wrote the book in third person voice. It was a newbie mistake: I should have trusted my original impulse, but I didn’t. Then, when I published the novel, I discovered (to my horror) that scenarios I thought were humorous came across, to readers, as humiliating.

You know the final scene in Brigit Jones, where she runs out into the street in her tights to chase down Mark Darcy? Imagine if that scene were done in such a way that, instead of cheering her on, you got angry at Brigit for debasing herself. Chasing after a man that way! Doesn’t she have any self-respect?

That’s what I managed to do with Libby! So perhaps, one of these days, I’ll revise that novel again and let Libby tell the story with her voice. But even if I don’t, it’s still a lesson that I learned, the hard way, about the power of POV.

Writing in the third person gives a writer a completely different set of tools. My latest novel, Dark Chemistry, is written in the third person. That let me shift points of view among several characters, including two bad guys, a heroine, a hero, and the hero’s friend and co-worker. I found that this let me add a lot of richness and depth to the story. One of my bad guys is very very creepy—telling part of the story from his point of view let me bring that out. Using third person also let me show how my heroine, Haley Dubose, evolved and matured during the course of the novel. She starts out spoiled and shallow, but learns to value relationships, love, and commitment more than clubbing and designer clothes. I had a lot of fun with that, and decided to use third person in my next novel as well.

So now it’s your turn. If you’re a writer, what have you discovered by experimenting with voice and POV? As a reader, do you enjoy first person or third person more—and why?

darkChemistry

A woman's worst nightmare

Drugged by something...that makes her think she's fallen in love.

All Haley Dubose has ever known is beaches and malls, clubs and cocktail dresses.

But now her father is dead.

And if she wants to inherit her father's fortune, she has to leave sunny Southern California
for a backwater little town near Syracuse, New York. She has to run RMB, the multimillion dollar
chemical company her father founded. And she has to run it well.


Keep RMB on track, and she'll be rich. Grow it, and she'll be even richer. But mess it up, and her inheritance will shrink away before she gets a chance to spend a dime.

Donavon Todde is her true love. But is it too late?

He's RMB's head of sales – and the more Donavon sees of Haley, the more he's smitten.
Sure, she comes across at first as naïve and superficial. But Donavon knew Haley's father. He can see the man's better qualities stirring to life in her eyes. And Donavon senses something else: Haley's father left her a legacy more important than money. He left her the chance to discover her true self.

Donavon has demons of his own.
 
He's reeling from a heartbreak that's taking far too long to heal. But he's captivated by this blond Californian, and not only because of her beauty. It's chemistry. They're right for each other. But has Donavon waited too long to woo this woman of his dreams? Because to his horror, his beautiful Haley falls under another spell. Gerad's spell.

A web of evil.

Gerad Picket was second-in-command at RMB when Haley's father was alive. And with Haley on the scene, he's in charge of her training. But there are things about RMB that Gerad doesn't want Haley to know.

And he must control her. Any way he can.

Romantic suspense for your Kindle

Will Haley realize that her feelings are not her TRUE feelings?
Does Donavon have the strength left to fight for the woman he loves?
Will the two of them uncover Gerad's plot to use RMB pheromones to enslave the world?
And even if they do – can they stop it?

Buy Now @ Amazon & Smashwords
Genre – Romantic suspense
Rating – PG-13
More details about the author
Connect with Kirsten Mortensen through Facebook Twitter

Friday, October 17, 2014

@KimberlyShursen Shares Tips on Relaxing for Writers & More #AmReading #AmWriting #Thriller


Tell us about your family? I am a widow, so my handsome, bright sons are the cornerstone of my life. After my husband passed from cancer was when I moved from Minneapolis to the Midwest to take care of my aging mother.

How do you write – lap top, pen, paper, in bed, at a desk? Everywhere. It depends on my mood. In the winter months when it’s below zero, I bring the computer into my bedroom. If it’s 75-80 degrees outside, you might find me with my laptop on my deck.

Where do you get support from? Do you have friends in the industry? I have a ton of friends in the industry. Many I interviewed when I was first started my website. My friends live all over the world; Italy, Germany, the UK. I don’t ever want to lose even one of them.

How much sleep do you need to be your best? I don’t sleep well, I’m always thinking, thinking, thinking. I think this is the lament of most women. If I have five hours of continuous sleep, I’m good to go.

Is there anyone you’d like to acknowledge and thank for their support? Katie French, who is an excellent author, and I have been beta readers for each other’s books for three years. My books are enhanced by Katie’s input. We are brutally honest with each other, and that’s what we both want.

Every writer has their own idea of what a successful career in writing is, what does success in writing look like to you? Don’t we all want to be at the top of the New York Times Best Selling list? I’m no different. I’m not going to try to woo anyone with words such as “I just hoped and prayed that someone would read my books.” I want everyone to read my novels and applaud the fact that I am a bold writer who isn’t looking to “fit it” to what the most popular genre of the months is, as I’m ready and willing to take a chance.

It is vital to get exposure and target the right readers for your writing, tell us about your marketing campaign? I market the first thing in the morning every single day. Marketing doesn’t have to be about your book, it can be about building a relationship - one person at a time. I try to seek out people who I find interesting, and hope they find me interesting too. I have a “facebook team” that are unbelievable supporters who shout out the word to their friends whenever I have a release, a book signing, or radio interview. But make no mistake, this team is about friendship first and not marketing.

Tell us about your new book? What’s it about and why did you write it? Psychological thriller Lottery just came out this month. Mental illness has always fascinated me. I don’t think the public really understands that mental illness is just as real to the person afflicted as the so called “normal” person’s mind. In Lottery, Caleb O’Toole is described as “Jekyll and Hyde meets Dexter.” The human mind is fascinating, and there have been instances where we find that the person next door is not who we thought he/she was when their dark secret is exposed.

If you could have a dinner party and invite anyone dead or alive, who would you ask?
My father. He passed three years ago, and I have so much I want to tell him.

Do you have any tips on how writers can relax? Exercise. Make yourself work out the kinks of sitting at a computer writing for hours and days at a time. Set a time, place, and how long you are going to work those muscles and take a break from the computer. Your mind, your body, and those closest to you need you to take a breather. I’m also a golfer and try to get on the course as much as time allows.

hush

Soon after Ann Ferguson and Ben Grable marry, and Ben unseals his adoption papers, their perfect life together is torn apart, sending the couple to opposite sides of the courtroom.

Representing Ann, lawyer Michael J. McConaughey (Mac) feels this is the case that could have far-reaching, judicial effects -- the one he's been waiting for.

Opposing counsel knows this high profile case happens just once in a lifetime.

And when the silent protest known as HUSH sweeps the nation, making international news, the CEO of one of the top ten pharmaceutical companies in the world plots to derail the trial that could cost his company billions.

Critically acclaimed literary thriller HUSH not only questions one of the most controversial laws that has divided the nation for over four decades, but captures a story of the far-reaching ties of family that surpasses time and distance.

*** Hush does not have political or religious content. The story is built around the emotions and thoughts of two people who differ in their beliefs.
 EDITORIAL REVIEW: "Suspenseful and well-researched, this action-packed legal thriller will take readers on a journey through the trials and tribulations of one of the most controversial subjects in society today." - Katie French author of "The Breeders," "The Believer's," and "Eyes Ever To The Sky."

Buy Now @ Amazon
Genre – Thriller
Rating – PG-13
More details about the author
Connect with Kimberly Shursen through Facebook and Twitter

Wednesday, October 15, 2014

#Excerpt from WITNESS TO MY HEART by @LoniFlowers #Contemporary #Romance #MustRead

“So, how long have you been out of the Army?”

“A little over a year.”

“Did you leave when David did?”

Max stretched his arm across the back of the bench behind me. “We left at the same time; but, no, David chose not to re-enlist when his term was up. I wasn’t given any options.”

That seemed kind of harsh. Unless he was fighting or being disruptive—which I could definitely see—why couldn’t he re-enlist? “Dishonorably discharged?”

“I guess you could say that.”

“What did you do to warrant that?”

“I didn’t do anything.” What is this? Fifty Questions?”

“It’s however-many-questions-you’ll-answer,” I said nonchalantly.

“Oh, I see. And can I play this game too?”

“I guess it depends on what you ask.”

Max pivoted towards me and his right leg pressed against mine. “Okay, let’s get right down to it. What are you hiding from?”

My eyes bulged wide with disbelief. How did he know? I was no different around him than anyone else. “What? What are you talking about? Who said I was hiding from something?”

He smirked with amusement. “Denial. It’s okay. I get it. Tell me why you were so scared in the lobby? You never showed that kind of fear towards me before.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about. And I wasn’t scared. I couldn’t see your face temporarily because of the bright glare from the sun. When you grabbed me, it startled me.” As if I would confess everything to him just because he asked. Yeah, right.

“You know, you can’t ask me questions and expect answers, if you’re not willing to offer up anything in return.”

He was right.

It wasn’t fair. I should have known better than most people how hard it was to conceal personal facts about your life, and if Max didn’t want to share his, I should have respected his choice.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I hoped to ask you some basic questions. You know, favorite color, favorite dessert, dog or cat, what you do for a living… those types of things.”

“Well, you haven’t asked me those questions. But if you must know, I don’t have a favorite color. I don’t do pets. They’re a responsibility I don’t want or have time for. And I work for a buddy of mine in St. Louis as a private investigator. It’s nothing like a full-time career, however, just whenever he needs me. I don’t need the money, but it doesn’t hurt to get paid doing easy jobs; and it keeps my mind focused on other things.” His finger curled around a lock of my hair as he shifted beside me.

“You forgot one,” I mumbled, enjoying his aimless tugging on my hair.

“What?”

“Dessert. What’s your favorite?”

“Strawberries… and whipped cream, if it’s around. Lots and lots of whipped cream.”

I was about to bite into a carrot stick, but stopped with it halfway to my mouth. His words seemed to drip from his lips. If he had leaned in a few more inches and kissed me—minus the carrot—I would have let him. He was only a few inches away, and I caught his eyes flickering from my eyes to my mouth. My mouth watered, imagining how strawberries and whipped cream would taste from his kiss. I licked my lips… and ate the carrot.

He leaned against the bench with a sly grin. “Does that about answer all your questions?”

I recovered as best I could and peeked at my watch. “I supposed it’ll do for now. I have to get back.”

Max stood and held his hand out to pull me up. “Until next time,” he said, walking me to the passenger side of his car.

Settling in the seat, I gave him a curious glance, not knowing if that were a question or a statement. I answered with, “Maybe.” I still wasn’t sure what to think about Max. He was an asshole one minute, a comforting savior the next, and pure sex-on-a-stick twenty-four hours of every day.

Witness to my Heart

Keep a low profile. That's what Abigale Peterson was supposed to do, especially when the person she was being protected from was one of the world's worst crime lords. After seven years in the Witness Protection Program, she felt no safer now than she did when she was seventeen. Revenge was rarely forgotten when it came to a professional criminal like Zerilli.

Low profiles meant no social life and definitely no love life.

Paranoia and lies became daily habits, going against everything Abigale believed in, but they kept her safe. They kept everyone safe.

Until a house fire puts her out of that safety and into the arms of a stranger. Max Smith is sexy, smart, and has major attitude. He’s the only one who seems to get her. He calms her fears and comforts her from her nightmares. But he also sees right through her lies.

Before Abigale can stop, she’s in too deep; confiding too much and breaking the one rule she promised herself to uphold: Never fall in love.

Buy Now @ Amazon
Genre – Contemporary Romance
Rating – R
More details about the author
Connect with Loni Flowers through Facebook & Twitter

Saturday, October 11, 2014

WHERE HAVE I BEEN ALL MY LIFE? #Excerpt by Cheryl Rice @RiceonLife #Relationships #Memoir

“You are resting under a large and lovely maple tree. Do you know that, Mom?“

And do you also know that Dad already purchased his headstone and had it engraved with his name and birthday and placed next to yours? He’s counting the days until he joins you. Some days it’s like he already has. I wish I knew what to do for him. I can’t tell you how many people came up to me at the shivah [the weeklong mourning period in Judaism during which people offer their condolences to the bereaved] and said, ‘Take care of your dad.’ I’m trying, Mom, I really am. I wish we had talked about this before you died.

I wish you could have told me how to deal with his sorrow. It seems like he’s trying to be more in your world than mine.

“Okay, this isn’t working for me, Mom. I’m sorry. I’m sorry you are here, and I’m sorry you are not here. I’m sorry that despite ten years of Hebrew school, I don’t have strong enough clarity or faith to know for sure where you are. And I’m deeply sorry for feeling this, Mom, but I’m sorry you died before Dad.

“I will keep looking for you. I’m leaving now. Good-bye, Mom.”

As I walked back to my car, a part of me knew I was engaged in magical thinking and a part of me didn’t.

Where Have I Been All My Life

Where Have I Been All My Life? is a compelling memoir recounting one woman’s journey through grief and a profound feeling of unworthiness to wholeness and healing. It begins with the chillingly sudden death of Rice’s mother, and is followed by her foray into the center of mourning.

With wisdom, grace, and humor, Rice recounts the grief games she plays in an effort to resurrect her mother; her efforts to get her therapist, who she falls desperately in love with, to run away with her; and the transformation of her husband from fantasy man to ordinary guy to superhero. In the process, she experiences aching revelations about her family and her past—and realizes what she must leave behind, and what she can carry forward with her.

Buy Now @ Amazon
Genre – Memoir
Rating – PG-13
More details about the author
Connect with Cheryl Rice through Facebook & Twitter

Friday, October 3, 2014

K S Ferguson's #WriteTip for Getting Your Scenes & Settings Right - #AmWriting #Fantasy

Authenticity is the writer's watch word. If you're describing a location like Chicago or Los Angeles, you'd better get the Starbucks at the right corner of the intersection. Intend to sink a nuclear sub? Make sure you mention all the right switches and buttons on the control panel. If you don't, readers will let you know that you screwed it up.

David Morrell, author of Rambo and over thirty other bestselling thriller novels knows this rule. That's why he's attended the FBI defensive driving course, knife-fighting school, and spent months learning to sail a boat.

Of course, David Morrell can afford to spend the time and money on research to ensure that his details are authentic. The rest of us merely mortal authors aim a little lower.

In my contemporary fantasy, Touching Madness, hapless hero River Madden is both schizophrenic and a dedicated pacifist. (Think about it—would you give a deadly weapon to someone who hallucinates?) But being a pacifist doesn't excuse River from facing physical danger.

River needs to 'get the goods' on a local mob boss and his drug lord supplier. He convinces the criminals to rendezvous with him in an abandoned factory under the pretext of making a drug buy. River's plans never go quite like he intends. I needed a contingency plan that would allow him to escape without turning to violence once things started to go wrong.

That's when I thought about smoke bombs (possibly because my brother got suspended from high school for a few days for lobbing one onto the football field at half-time). According to dozens of YouTube videos, they're dead simple to make, requiring only stump remover, newspaper, string, and an empty soda can. It was exactly the kind of home-made solution River would use. For the sake of authenticity, I thought I better try it out.

Really good smoke bombs aren't as simple as they seem. To get the necessary billowing clouds of smoke I wanted, I needed to get the air holes just right. And I needed a mass of bombs all going off at the same time. Fuses were an issue. Cotton string just isn't that flammable. Throwing them was a joke. I could barely get ignition when they were sitting on the ground in ideal conditions. In the end, I ditched the smoke bombs.

But all was not lost. I had a very authentic experience convincing the fire department and my neighbors that I was only a harmless writer and not a terrorist. I'm sure I'll use that conversation in a book someday.


Touching Madness

Light bulbs talk to River Madden; God doesn't. When the homeless schizophrenic unintentionally fractures a dimensional barrier and accidentally steals a gym bag containing a million dollars, everyone from the multiverse police to the local crime boss—and an eight-foot tall demon—are after him. Can he dodge them long enough to correct his mistakes and prevent the destruction of three separate dimensions? If he succeeds, will the light bulbs stop singing off-key?

Buy Now @ Amazon
Genre – Contemporary, Urban fantasy
Rating – R
More details about the author

Craig Staufenberg on Not Liking Tight Deadlines @YouMakeArtDumb #AmWriting #WriteTip #MG

How to Meet Deadlines and Remain Sane

The simplest strategy is to not set deadlines. This is very easy when you’re writing the book for yourself and plan on self-publishing. It’s hard to let a deadline drive you crazy when it’s not there in the first place. Though then you may run into the creeping dread and anxiety that comes from not having a clear idea of when the project will be done. Or even if the project will be done. It’s easiest to not set deadlines when you’re sure that you’re going to finish the thing—which you can only be sure about if you have experience finishing projects in the past.

A better model— you can set a longer hard-limit deadline for the end of the project, and then avoid creating any little ones. For example, you can say you want to have your book done in a year. When one year passes after starting the project, you’re done, and you release the best version of what you have. Then you just let the year proceed without a lot of micromanaging of your schedule, or draft completion, or any other smaller deadlines and milestones. Once again, this relies on some understanding that you’re actually going to be able to finish the project, and that you’ll work on it throughout that year. Not a huge problem when you really love the project, the characters, the story, and you feel compelled to make the thing. And then, as long as you have a hard end to the project, you can float around inside that time and feel certain it’ll get done.

This is my preferred method. I don’t like rigid structures and tight deadlines. Other people do. Other people perform great by managing everything down to the week or day or hour. For me, over-managing the creative process and setting too many deadlines for myself makes me tone deaf to my natural working rhythms. I will trick myself with my set schedule, and I will complete every deadline the night before it’s due. Maybe if I didn’t have that schedule in place I would have completed that phase of the project three days earlier. But that deadline sticks in my head, so instead of following my drive to work on that phase before it’s due, I tell myself “I have until Sunday” and then I swallow my interest in working on the project then and there, and end up putting it off till right before midnight on Sunday.

All of this is a fancy way of saying I like to work on my projects when it feels right to work on them. As long as I keep the project top-of-mind and continue to daydream about it—and journal a little bit on it daily—then I’ll have an accurate feel when I’m ready to make a push and when I’m not. But if I set a firm schedule, I end up working when the schedule wants me to and not when I, and the project itself, want to put in a few hours.

This is a personal thing. A personality thing. If it sounds like mayhem to you, then you should have a more ordered way of producing your work. And if you’ve never finished a project before, then the external stressors of timelines and deadlines and milestones could be very useful for you. But if you, like me, don’t fit into that style of working, then know this—it isn’t necessary. It’s a shame that most people who write books and articles about how to “get things done” tend to be very organized, disciplined, hardline, schedule-the-process-to-the-minute sort of people. Not because they’re necessarily better at getting things done, but because they’re much more likely to write a book on the subject. This creates a bias where we think these people have all the answers for everyone.

They don’t. Plenty of people get lots of things done while putting only the lightest reins on themselves. And lots of us both prefer how that freedom feels, and work much better without external or internally imposed restraint. By accepting that about ourselves, we finish more projects, we produce better work, and we enjoy our lives more, than we would if we tried to fit a strict system. So I suppose the secret to not losing your mind over all these deadlines is simple—know yourself, know how you get things done, and honor that. More often than not that means being easier on yourself, rather than forcing yourself into a tighter cage.

And as a passing note—if you’re worried that you won’t finish your project if you don’t have a jailer on your back, then I’d suggest you might not like this project (or writing in general) as much as you think you do. The easiest way to stay sane while completing a project in a reasonable amount of time is only working on projects that you love, and working on them doesn’t feel like a burden.

The Girl Who Came Back to Life

When you die, your spirit wakes in the north, in the City of the Dead. There, you wander the cold until one of your living loved ones finds you, says "Goodbye," and Sends you to the next world. 

After her parents die, 12-year-old Sophie refuses to release their spirits. Instead, she resolves to travel to the City of the Dead to bring her mother and father’s spirits back home with her. 

Taking the long pilgrimage north with her gruff & distant grandmother—by train, by foot, by boat; over ruined mountains and plains and oceans—Sophie struggles to return what death stole from her. Yet the journey offers her many hard, unexpected lessons—what to hold on to, when to let go, and who she must truly bring back to life.

Buy Now @ Amazon
Genre – Middle Grade
Rating – PG-13
More details about the author
Connect with Craig Staufenberg through Facebook and Twitter