Thursday, 23 October 2014
The books that were forgotten in the rush of all things new, or just weren’t loved on as much as they should have been, these are our genre’s backlist, maybe you’ll find something old to love like it’s new
Maybe With a Chance of Certainty by John Goode
(Tales from Foster High #1)
First Published 19th of October 2011 by Dreamspinner
LGBT Contemporary YA Romance
Kyle has worked hard at being the invisible student, toiling through high school in the middle of Nowhere, Texas. Brad is the baseball star at Foster High. Both boys are damaged in ways that the rest of the world can’t see. When they bond over a night of history tutoring, Kyle thinks that maybe his life has taken a turn for the not-so-lonely.
He finds out quickly that the promise of fairy-tale love is a lie when you’re gay and falling for one of the most popular boys in school, and if being different is a sin in high school, then being gay is the biggest sin of all. Now Kyle and Brad need to come to an understanding amidst the scrutiny of their peers or their fledgling relationship will crash and burn before it ever gets off the ground.
This is the 2nd Edition. 1st Edition was published as a short story under the same title by Dreamspinner Press
Other in the series
End of the Beginning, Raise Your Glass, To Wish for Impossible Things, End of the Innocence, Dear God, Taking Chances, 151 Days
Wednesday, 22 October 2014
I’m stressing, I worked myself up to my utter most point and collapsed, which in me is when I forget about the word for a long time. This time it took a little over a week and the Campus Cravings series by Carol Lynne. So, I’m starting my week with itch fingers, and a need to get things done.
The first is Running Scared. I’m petrified of this one not getting out before the end of the month. Mostly because I just haven’t heard anything about it. That isn’t saying it’s not happening, and really I still have another couple of weeks before the deadline, and really, when we head into next week and I still haven’t heard anything then I can panic.
Second is that I’m going to finish writing Moonlit Wolves 7. Yeah, I know, said so before, but this is another one that’s been on my mind for a long time. And let’s face it, at 18K done, I’ve got at a min 6K to go, so, a link up 1K and 5K finish, easy – you know, except bringing this relationship into something believable and at the moment we are just at the beginning.
it’s not really that simple, and it’s not complicated because it’s not like I ever really see a relationship out, so this will be like that, a HFN ending with the knowledge that things will last forever, because I’m saying they will, lol
Still, I want this series arc done. I want to start thinking about the larger arc, what I want the end goal to be. And well, how I’m going to get us all there.
Anyway, we’re all over this by now. I’m hoping to actually finish this book before the end of the month, but please don’t hold me on that, it’s not like I’m good at keeping them.
And lastly. I’m excitedly, nervously, waiting for an author lunch that AB Gayle is organising. It happened from me wishing her a happy b’day and turned into, a last count, 6 of us Sydney siders getting together for lunch, which is awesome. I’m not sure when exactly its happening, but I believe it’s going to be on the 3rd of November.
So yeah, I was nervous as hell meeting Penny Brandon, it’s even worse with the rest of them added, lol, but I can’t wait!!
And lastly, don’t forget my giveaway, it’s still lots of time, but that doesn’t mean you can’t get in early, who knows maybe you’ll forget later and miss out on the prize
And LASTLY, ‘cause we can’t forget this, I’m having a giveaway, look it up here, enter, and go in for a 1 in 3 chance to win something from me
Tuesday, 21 October 2014
Art sells the book; it’s the first thing we see, and some we’ll buy just from appeal.
Monday, 20 October 2014
Here’s the deal, I have come to a decision I’m going to be releasing them individually except through Amazon, you’ll have to buy them as a bundle there.
Reason: well, it’s irritating trying to release a free read through Amazon, and I just don’t want to have to do that for a 2k book that I had originally planned to sell together (this may change as I have a wait and I’m going backwards and forwards with my decision).
Now, let’s actually tell you what these two books are, since I’ve been quite closed lipped about the whole thing.
Neither of the following books holds any form of romance; though please don’t hold that against them, there quick, you won’t even notice
Running Scared is about a guy running away from, a person who had killed his family. He ends up in a hotel his family use to own, and things get worse. It’s fast, and it’s short, only 6.8K, and it’s about one night.
Its starts like this:
Mum was always the one to walk into the closet to make sure the monsters were all gone each night before I went to bed.
She was the one who told me it was okay to fear. She made sure I was always safe when she was around, and if she couldn’t be, she’d give me something to take her place.
It was a stuffed rabbit. By the time I could remember owning it, I’d held the rabbit for nearly five years. It’s actually one of my oldest memories.
The rabbit, which apparently was a nice baby yellow, when brand new, had turned a greyish colour, but I was more than sure that was years later than my first memory of it. As it stood now, me at the tender age of twenty-two it only had one ear, long and paper-thin, crusty from years of being chewed, the other a replacement ear from a bear. The stuffing was those little beads, settled in the arse and its toes. However, one of those had seen better days.
I remember this because I wanted to be clutching my rabbit now. I wanted my fingers around the head, suffocating poor Scratchy as the butt snuggled into my armpit.
Screams pierced at my ears—my mothers, my sisters, yelling for the pain to stop, for everything to stop! Panicked, I try to run away, to turn invisible as I slowly back out of the room. Tears ran down my cheeks. I want nothing more than to run to them, to get him to stop.
This story had me so excited when I thought it up. Though it became so much better when I had a long chat with my sister, about the whole thing, and then when I started, and the backstory came into play…man I loved it even more. Yet I struggled, mostly with the fact that it just wasn’t turning out the way I hoped it would have, and I believe that was because I wasn’t thinking about it as the character in the story, but as someone so far removed.
It’s turned into a metal health short story, which I love even more. I like the fact that’s it’s a bit of a dramatized story that could help people feel better about themselves for the thoughts inside their heads.
You always say you’d stand and fight, but when you witness the death of your loved ones, are you sure your feet won’t take off and lead you on a merry-go-round?
Witnessing the murder of my family had me on the run. I didn’t know where I was going, or why I was left standing, but that didn’t stop my flight instinct from kicking in. I ran, screaming, but he found me, and now I’m trapped in a hotel with a madman. What does he want from me and am I going to survive long enough to find out?
Hunted is a 2K story that’s about a person running through the woods trying to get away from a serial killer.
It starts like this:
“Come on, sugar, it ain’t gonna hurt for long.” The greasy voice sounds like a hatchling of spiders crawling up your body. “Sooner or later, ya know I’m gonna find ya.”
Shhh—the only thought inside your head, but your mind races.
Your breath is too loud. This isn’t good. So loud and fierce the puffs saturate the air.
You can’t let him get you! You’ve already gotten this far. You have to get further!
The trees around you are loose but there are many, so many. You can’t see him. You can’t see anything but what’s right in front of you.
Can’t get caught!
I wrote this one the way up to a family holiday house in Ocean Shores, which like half hour north of Byron Bay. We were going through the sugar cane farms, before the by-pass went in, and for whatever reason we were talking about the Backpack Kill, who used a stretch of the highway we were traveling on as his hunting grounds.
I started this short on the drive, in 2011 and I didn’t go to sleep until I finished it, and being at it was a nearly 10 hour drive back then, it’s saying a lot, that too and we had two small children I had to settle first.
This story had been cleaned up a bit, but it’s meant to, have a feeling, of you, yourself, running through the woods, which is why I wrote it the way I did.
There’s only really one thing you can do when you escape from a madman, its run.
You just gotta hope he doesn’t catch up to you!a Rafflecopter giveaway
Sunday, 19 October 2014
Saturday, 18 October 2014
Week 64 and we are all about the thrillers, the zombie apocalypses, the clowns peeking out of the overflow drainage grate.
Now I don’t have a thriller, even if my first Moonlit Wolves book was describes as “A thriller that turned into mating ritual” but I do have a horror story coming out sometime this month.
I know this isn’t a romance, but it’s only just over 6K, and much more about metal health than anything else, so please don’t push it aside just because it’s not got the emotions a romance holds, it does. That’s all this book is *smiles*
So, nothing sexy, but it’s the closest thing I have to thriller at the moment, so this is all I can give you.
She landed like, well, what you’d expect a person to look like when they’d fallen down the stairs. There wasn’t any blood. In all honesty, I stood there waiting for her to get up. Waiting for a moment when she’d roll over, and all would be well.
It didn’t happen.
Laughter had me looking at the top of the stairs but there wasn’t anyone there. I shook my head; I was hearing things. I puffed a nervous laugh before looking back towards the bottom, the girl. Maybe it didn’t actually happen. My head hurt like a bitch. Maybe it had all been a dream.
She was still there, only this time the guy was crouching over her, his fingers in her hair as he twisted it around. He looked up at me, and I nearly screamed; the only reason I didn’t was because I’d stopped breathing.
He laughed; it scraped against my brain, stabbed at my head, and had cold sweat building up along my spine.
Turning my back, I grabbed the rail and pulled myself up the stairs. I didn’t care where I was going, didn’t care that I was meant to find my room, somewhere to lock myself up in, to hide. I just wanted out. Just wanted away from him. Please let me get away from him.
And onto the pimping and other random fact linked to this hop