Friday, April 13, 2012

YA Indie Carnival - Friday the 13th


Cue the creepy music!  OMG, I can actually hear it in my head!  I grew up LOVING scary movies and Jason Voorhees was one of my faves!  Freddy Kruger, Michael Myers, Leatherface, that chick from the Ring--GAH!  I love 'em/ hate 'em all!  That love might have had the teensiest influence on the gore found in Caterpillar.  MIGHT HAVE:)  LOL  I really enjoyed mixing romance with the horror in which Cat was living.  Of course, even the awful things she saw were tolerable once Tegan entered the picture.  Whew!  That guy is some kinda HAWT! 

For today's subject, I'm not going post the scariest scene.  I don't want to ruin it for those of you who haven't read it and might like a little fright.  I will, however, post one that had both an interesting creepy character and one that led to something...steamy.  It's my favorite combination.  I won't spoil all the steam, but I'll lead you right up to the end of the scene that precedes it.

(EXCERPT FROM CATERPILLAR)

I drove to my house.  I was still feeling a little jumpy after the cat incident.  Add to that another murder and the strange yet powerful attraction I felt toward Tegan and I was feeling pretty antsy.  And the incongruity of it was extremely disconcerting. 
I waited for him to park behind me.  When he got out, I said, “I guess you want to come in and grill me, huh?”
His voice was a low, scratchy rumble, like velvet.  “Something like that,” he said.  Something about the way he said it made it sound wicked, like he had much, much more in mind. 
I tried to ignore the tingle of sheer pleasure that danced along my nerves.  We walked to the front door together in silence.  On some level, I noticed that the cat was nowhere to be found, but I didn’t give it much thought.  I wondered absently if he had gone back to Aunt Jillian’s.  A crashing sound ripped my focus away from Tegan and back to the inky night.  We both stopped, turning our heads toward the sound. 
Tegan was on high alert.  He was perfectly still, but I could feel his tension, his readiness, like electricity in the air.  It hummed all around him.  He reminded me of a rattlesnake, coiled and ready to strike.
A dark figure, possibly the one I’d “seen” stepping onto the front porch earlier, emerged from the bushes.  Even when he stepped into the low light coming from the window, he was still cloaked in deep shadow, like he carried the dark, the blackness, within him.  He didn’t move particularly quickly.  He more lumbered, like someone capable of brute force but also a debilitating clumsiness.
When he came at me, I stumbled backward.  He hoisted something into the air then lunged.  Before I could react, Tegan stepped in front of me, shielding my body with his own.  I saw Tegan catch the man’s weapon between his hands then turn it back on him.  Tegan jammed the object into the man’s chest, the crunch of bones shattering the otherwise silent night. 
Dumbfounded, I watched the man fall to the ground.  Degree by degree, the darkness that surrounded him receded, draining away like he was shedding blackness rather than blood.  It revealed a skull covered in deathly pale skin—and nothing else.  There were no eyes or nose or mouth.  No hair, no face.  The thin skin enveloped his entire misshapen skull then webbed out and connected to his shoulders. 
I watched his body wiggle and contort, the darkness continuing to abate, revealing more pale skin.  A thin membrane connected his arms to his trunk and his legs to one another.  It spread like gauze between his fingers and toes.  As his thrashing slowed, so did his transformation, leaving him a deformed rectangular lump covered in thin, fibrous skin.
He began to make a strange gurgling noise, as if something wet was caught in his throat, and then he exploded into millions of tiny black spiders.  They scattered in every direction, disappearing into the earth in a flurry of clambering legs. 
I jumped up, scrambling away from the spiders.  I clamped my hand over my mouth to keep from squealing.  When the spiders were gone, I stood staring at the spot where the body had lain only moments before.  I finally looked over to Tegan.  He was standing with a wooden stake in his hand, his breathing labored.  He looked at me and I could see the sheen of perspiration on his face.
“What just happened?”
“I just destroyed a golem.”
“What about all those spiders?”
“Spiders are carriers of evil.”
“Carriers?’
“Yes.  They can contain it, hold it within themselves.  They’re like empty vessels.  Once they’re filled, they become slaves to the demon who…sort of owns them.  They do their master’s will.”
Something was tickling at the back of my mind, but I was far from thinking clearly.  In fact, I was struggling just to take it all in.  “What’s a golem?”
“It’s a formless, featureless creature that takes the shape its creator specifies and performs whatever duties his creator demands of him.”
My mind was racing almost as fast as my heart.  I’d never heard of a golem, but Tegan had obviously dealt with them before.  “How do you know that?  How did you know that would kill him?”
“A golem isn’t hard to kill.  They have many of the same weaknesses humans do.  A gun would’ve worked just as well, but I just used what he had.”
“Thank you.  You- you saved my life.”
More winded than before, Tegan had to pause before answering. “Not- uh.  Not a problem.”  I could see sweat running down the sides of his face.
“Are you alright?”
“I don’t- don’t think so.  Can we go inside?’
He stumbled up the steps and onto the porch.  I got him inside as quickly as I could, the fist of alarm squeezing my chest in a vice grip.
Tegan went straight to the couch and tried to sit down, but he fell, crumpling into a heap on the floor. 



All right, that was just one of several creepy characters in Caterpillar.  If you'd like to read more, you can do so on Amazon and B&N for only $0.99 or you can purchase my Beginnings anthology, which includes Caterpillar as well as 4 other "book one-s" of my series.

Now, time to go check out the other carnival folk and see what scary stuff they have to offer.

Dani Snell Refracted Light Reviews
Patti Larsen Author of The Ghost Boy of MacKenzie House, The Hunted Series and the Hayle Coven Novels
Courtney Cole Author of Every Last Kiss, Fated, Princess, and Guardian. Also a contributing author in The Glassheart Chronicles
Fisher Amelie Author of The Understorey, as well as a contributing author in The Glassheart Chronicles
Laura Elliott Author of Winnemucca as well as 13 on Halloween, book 1 in the Teen Halloween Series
Amy Jones Author of The Soul Quest Trilogy as well as a contributing author in The Glassheart Chronicles
Rachel Coles Author of Diary of a Duct Tape Zombie, Whistles, Beergarden, Plagues, Bees of St. John, and Mushrooms
T.R. Graves Author of Warriors of the Cross
Cheri Schmidt Author of Fateful, Fractured, and Fair Maiden
Suzy Turner Author of December Moon and Raven
K.C. Blake Author of Vampire Rules
Gwenn Wright Author of Filter
Cidney Swanson Author of Ripple series
Heather Self Blogger, Reviewer and upcoming Indie Author
Heather M. White, Author of The Destiny Saga
Melissa Pearl, Author The Time Spirit Trilogy
Bryna Butler, Author of Midnight Guardian series
Liz Long
Ella James

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

Signed books and other cool stuff

I know I'm slow, but I FINALLY got some "stuff" up on here that you can purchase.  Most things will come signed (obviously not the wristbands, the pen or the t-shirt).  If you have any questions, just e-mail me and ask. Y'all know how much I love hearing from you.  As I get new swag, I'll add it to the page now that the bones are there.  As always, thank y'all so much for your love and support.  You make me one happy, happy girl:)

Sunday, April 8, 2012

Happy Easter and Happy Book Birthday



Happy Easter, y'all!  Don't forget to pick up your copy of my new book today.  But be careful!  It's FRAGILE. 



*grins sheepishly*

Can you believe I just put something that cheesy on my blog, for the whole world to see?  Yeah, me, too:D  LOL

Okay, so I'm not sure if it's bad form to wish oneself a happy book birthday, but I totally just did.  Up there^ ^ ^  Did you see it?  Well, it's done now. No turning back.  So let me just say, you should really hop on over to Amazon or Barnes & Noble and get your copy of Fragile.  Seriously.  You should.  Right now.  And if not today, if it's the print you want, then it should be available on Amazon by the end of the upcoming week.  Unless you want to go get it direct from CreateSpace, in which case, it's ready!  Woot!

As always, I thank each and every one of you from the bottom of my heart.  You can't imagine how much your love and support and awesome messages mean to me.  Really!  I hope you enjoy my first YA Contemporary Romance and that you'll take a minute to go to Amazon or B&N and leave a review.  It helps more than you could imagine!  I love y'all.  Truly.

And finally, for all you lovers of Jackson out there, I'm starting Madly book 3 tomorrow.  I hope to have it finished by month's end and published the first week of May.  I'll give a specific release date once it is written in stone.  Until then... enjoy Fragile:)


Thanks, Easter Bunny!  *bawk bawk*  You gotta watch til the end:)


Thursday, April 5, 2012

Soul Bound by Courtney Cole

All right, now don't hate me, but I was lucky enough to get a copy of Soul Bound Tuesday night and OMG! Let me tell you, Courtney Cole has done it again.  I'll put up a review as soon as I finish it, but what I can tell you so far is WOW!  That Brennan is delicious!! And Em?  She is crazy powerful, but seriously cursed, y'all!  And their story...well, you'll see;) 

Courtney has given me the cover (oh my sweet Lord, wait until you see this cover that I LURVE), blurb and an excerpt (the WHOLE first chapter- eeeep)  to post and, in honor of the big release day, I'm doing a giveaway.  Yep, you got it!  All you have to do is tweet me @mleightonbooks "I love Courtney Cole" and you'll be entered to win a copy of both Soul Kissed (book one in this series) and Soul Bound.  I'll be announcing the winner on Twitter Friday morning and then I'll send him/her a DM for gifting info (so be sure you're following me so I can follow you back).  How's that for a good way to start your weekend? Woohoo!

Are there a lot of parentheses in this post?  I feel like there are a lot of parentheses in this post.  It's making me a little crazy.  Maybe I should stop looking at it.  That's probably a good idea.

*pauses to collect self*

So, you wanna hear all about it?

*pauses*  *listens*

Yep, that's what I thought.  Okie dokie, here ya go!

Check out this most amazing cover!  Could you love it any more?  I know, me neither!



SOUL BOUND

The gods are playing games again and this time it’s going to get ugly. 

Empusa is the daughter of the goddess of witchcraft and the moon.  As a child of the moon, she has all of the ethereal lunar powers that come with it.  She is beautiful, vulnerable and strong.  But since she is cursed by her father to drink souls and mortal blood, her powers will come back to haunt her…

Brennan is the son of Apollo, the god of the sun.  As a child of the sun, he is handsome, golden, brave and strong.  He’s just learning to harness his own immortal powers, only there isn’t much time…

There’s an ugly, twisted storm brewing on Olympus and Brennan and Em are in the center of it.  Their powers are conflicting, polar opposites.  If they can’t learn to handle their abilities without killing each other, they will kill everyone in the mortal world, as well.  Time is ticking and the gods are watching.  Who will rise, who will fall and who will be left standing?




Chapter One
Empusa
Reality exploded around me in various earth-toned hues as we burst into a wet, green meadow filled with fluttering grass. 
Honeysuckle.
The smell of honeysuckle filled my nose and I looked around before I realized that the smell wasn’t coming from around me. It was coming from me.  Since I had drunk from Harmonia’s blood and it still pulsed through my veins, her scent was lingering on me.  I shook my head, trying to regain my grasp on reality.  Traveling through time was disorienting at times.  
“Where are we?” my boyfriend asked curiously as we stood on the swell of a slippery, rolling hill.  He held my hand with strong fingers and I appraised our surroundings.
Wet earthy smells filled my nose…moss, wood, rain.  My thoughts were returning to me by the second and I was able to think more clearly, remembering where we had just come from and where we were now. 
Rays from the sun shone weakly through the low-hanging clouds above us, but the filtered light was enough to make Brennan seem radiant.  The golden light outlined his blonde hair and tanned, muscled frame.  He looked enough like Apollo to be his father’s twin brother.  Both of them were beautiful.  I took a slow breath and exhaled.
“We’re far from home,” I stated the obvious calmly as if that fact wasn’t apparent already.
As I spoke, a group of women emerged from a clump of trees across the clearing.  Moving in a quick blur, I yanked Brennan down until we were concealed from view as we knelt behind the waving wildflowers.  Flopping onto our bellies, we observed the strangers in the hollow below us.  They wore muted ankle-length tunics and their long hair was pulled back into neat braids which were held away from their faces by woven leather bands.  
“Well, that much is apparent,” Brennan muttered as he took in their ancient dress.  “Could you possibly be a little more specific?”
I smiled.  One of the things I loved about Brennan Delacorte was his sense of humor.  And I cherished it even more now. 
Five minutes ago, he had broken up with me.  But in the space of those minutes, in between running from my father who was trying to kill us both and landing here in an ancient Celtic land, Brennan had decided that as my soul mate, he couldn’t live without me regardless of the risks that our relationship posed for the world.  And that left me almost giddy with relief.
“We’re in ancient Britain,” I answered by way of explanation, as though time traveling was common.  And when you were the daughter of the goddess of witchcraft like I was, then it wasn’t really out of the ordinary.  But when you were new to the whole world of gods and immortals like Brennan was, I had to admit that it must be a bit of a shock.  As a new demi-god though, he was definitely handling it well.
 He arched a golden eyebrow.  “And I thought you were going to say someplace interesting.  Or remote.”
I smiled again. We had been able to catch our breaths now since fleeing Death Valley a few minutes ago after Brennan had pulled me out of a burning crevice of lava and carried me away from the danger.   We had left my parents dueling there in hand-to-hand combat. My mother was fighting to save my life and my father was fighting to take it.  It was enough to make a girl crazy. 
But I had a lot to fight for now.  Brennan, for starters.  And my freedom from the wretched curse that my father had inflicted upon me, the curse that caused me to suck away mortal souls in order to remain immortal and to drink mortal blood to stay young.  I absently twisted the moonstone bracelet that circled my wrist.   
My mother had given it to me long ago in an effort to protect me from my father.  She had enchanted it to alert me whenever he was near.  But in the process, my soul had become tied to it.  If something happened to the moonstone, I would die.  As in, dead-as-a-doornail forever—even Zeus’ sword wouldn’t be able to save me.  And that was a daunting thought.
“Why are we here?” Brennan asked curiously, still watching the strange women in front of us.  It appeared that they were spreading wet clothing out to dry on large rocks, an archaic but effective laundry system.
“It’s hard to say,” I answered, fingering the small bag of runes in my pocket.  My mother had given them to Brennan in Death Valley, telling him that they would instruct us where to go.  But she didn’t tell him why.  And that was a very good question.
“Well, what do we do now that we’re here?” Brennan asked, finally turning to face me.  “Do we wait for your mom?  Do we need to hide from these people?”
I honestly didn’t know.  The runes had told me where to go.  They certainly hadn’t explained why or what we should do once we arrived.  I stared helplessly at Brennan, but his question was answered by someone other than me.
The woman in front, a tall statuesque woman, turned to us as though she could see us. Her flame red hair hung to the small of her back and her eyes, as gray as mine, swung around the meadow as though searching for something.  I gasped. There was no way she could have heard us, yet her eyes zeroed in on our location with laser precision.
“What the hell?” Brennan muttered.  “She can’t see us, can she?”
But she could. I could sense it.  The woman was mortal, but she something was very immortal about her.  She had supernatural senses somehow.
At my thought, she smiled slightly as though she could hear my thoughts.  But that was impossible.  I knew that much, at least.  No mortal could read the thoughts of the gods.  It had never happened. With that, she threw her head back and laughed, causing the other women to look at her curiously before going about their business of doing laundry.
What the hell?
I raised my head slightly and her gaze caught mine.  She took one step and then another, then she was walking confidently towards us from across the meadow.  The hem of her saffron shift was wet from the dew on the grass and her feet were bare.
There was no point in hiding, so I unfolded myself from the grass as gracefully as I could.  Brennan and I stood still as we waited for the woman to reach us.  The other females had stopped spreading their laundry on the rocks, but they remained across the meadow.  They didn’t look bothered by our appearance.
I could hear Brennan’s unspoken question since I could read his mind.  Who is she?
“I don’t know,” I answered out loud.  Taking a step forward, I asked the woman that very thing.
“Who are you?” I asked.  She was no more than six feet away from us.  “Do you know us?”
She didn’t answer my question. Instead, she drew to a stop in front of us and knelt at my feet.  “Princess, I’ve been expecting you.”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes.  As the daughter of the goddess of witchcraft, who also happened to be the goddess of the moon, I was deemed the princess of the moon.  It was, at times, an honor I didn’t appreciate.  I could feel Brennan’s eyes on me now.  He wasn’t accustomed to this side of my life.  He had only seen me act fairly mortal.  Being goddess royalty was a new facet of my personality for him.
Gritting my teeth, I reached my hand down.  “Please, get up.  How do you know me?”
She looked up at me doubtfully as she remained in her submissive position.  I felt certain that this strong woman was not submissive often. 
“Truly?” She raised one red eyebrow. “How could I not know you?  Our father has spoken of you often.”
“Our father…” The words died in my throat as realization set in.  Her eyes were identical to mine, a unique gray.  I stepped away from her. 
“Don’t be alarmed,” she reassured me quickly. “I mean you no harm.”
“How can you say that?” I hissed, stepping further away. Brennan poised himself as if to provide protection for me.  I put my hand on his arm. “This can’t be right, Bren.  My mother surely didn’t intend for us to come here.”
The woman got to her feet and stared me in the eye.  Like my own, the sunlight made her gray eyes seem incandescent.  “I recognize the danger Mormo poses to you,” she told me quietly as she remained motionlessly in place.  I could see that she wanted to seem nonthreatening.  “Like you, he poses a danger to me as well.  Unlike you, his threats to me could be quite permanent.”
“You’re mortal,” I said bluntly.  She nodded.
“Yes. I am.  But we share the same immortal father.  It is true.”
“Why did my mother send me here?” I asked her brusquely. 
“Because she thinks I can help,” the woman answered simply. 
“Help me?” I asked. 
“Of course.  Who else?” She stared into my eyes again and I felt as though she was looking directly into my soul.  It was disconcerting.
“Your name.” I didn’t ask, I stated.  I was simply too tired for pleasantries at this point.
“Branwyn.  You and the son of Apollo should rest.  Allow me to show you to a safe place, princess.”
“My name is Brennan,” Brennan interjected.  “It’s not ‘son of Apollo.”
“Whether it is your name or not your name, it is still who you are,” Branwyn replied.  “I cannot help that and neither can you.  There are worse things.”
I had to admit that I liked her matter-of-fact manner.  Her attitude was simple and definitely not flowery.  I had the distinct impression that I would always know where I stood with this woman.  My sister.  The thought almost floored me.  I had no idea that I even had one.
“Come,” Branwyn urged.  “We have much to discuss, but I believe you should rest first and we can speak when your minds and bodies have rested.”
Brennan looked at me, his amber gaze concerned.  “You really should rest,” he said quietly.  “You’ve been through a lot today.  You’re strong, but even the strong have the need to rest.”
I nodded curtly, just once. I hated to admit it, but he was right.  My legs were quite literally shaking from weariness.  Hanging over a ledge, dangling over bubbling lava would do that to a person.
“Good,” Branwyn smiled.  “You must believe me, princess.  I wish you no ill.  I only want to help.  Your mother is very strong and very respected here.  We would do anything to keep her daughter safe.”
She smiled again and I studied her for a moment.  She was sincere, I could tell that much.  I glanced around again.  The druids sought wisdom.  I quickly flipped through my memories regarding this ancient people.
Druids had priests, priestesses and seers.  They sought higher powers in many forms, including gods and goddesses.  They worshipped my mother, for one, although they didn’t typically use her true name.  They thought she was the mother of everything that ever was.  Priestesses and Seers lived simple lives.  They were self-sacrificing and loyal.  It didn’t surprise me that Branwyn was opening her home to me.  It was very possible, probably even likely, that she had seen me in a vision.  They worshipped nature, they opened their minds to powers that they didn’t understand.  And sometimes, they channeled visions.  It wouldn’t surprise me a bit if she had seen me in one.
“Did you see my coming in a vision?” I asked curiously as we walked together over the meadow toward the small gathering of huts. 
“No,” she glanced at me.  “Your mother told me.”
“My mother literally came to you and told you that I was coming.  She appeared to you?”
“I am your mother’s faithful servant,” Branwyn said quietly.  “Your mother knows this.  She trusts me.  I have proven my loyalty to her in every way.  I only hope to prove it to you, as well, princess.”
“You don’t need to call me princess,” I told her wryly.  “Empusa will do.”
She met my gaze.  “Wonderful.  Empusa, it is.”
My feet fell on the wet velvet of the wild grass and I realized with a start that I had lost my shoes along the way.  Probably while I was dangling over the hot lava.  Perfect. 
Brennan read my thoughts and smiled at me. “It’s alright, Emmie.  I’ll carry you wherever you need to go.”  I rolled my eyes and laughed. 
“I’m good,” I assured him.  “I can conjure shoes.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “That you can.  I had forgotten.”
We approached the other women who had stilled their movements in order to watch our approach.  They were all calm and interested.  I could see that they had been expecting me, as well.  As I stepped inside the perimeter of their camp, they each dropped to their knees, their heads bowed.
My breath caught in my throat at the show of reverence. 
“I told you that you and your mother are respected here,” Branwyn murmured.  “They won’t get up until you give them permission.”
“Please, get up,” I stammered quickly.  “There is no need to kneel to me.  My mother is a powerful goddess of the moon.  I am just her daughter, no more and no less.  Only that.  There is no reason to revere me.”
“You are too modest, princess,” Branwyn observed.  “Surely you are aware of your own value.  But you heard her, ladies,” she turned to the others. “The moon princess has said to rise.  You can resume your duties.  We’ll meet in the Meadow of Peace later this afternoon to meditate.”
The women resumed their laundry duties while Branwyn continued leading us away from the common area to a small but well-built hut. 
It was made from wood and rock and was solid and strong.  It stood in the middle of the others, larger and away from the perimeter.  The perimeter was clearly marked with a boundary of stones.  I recalled that the druids believed that there was protective magic within circles.  And I was not one to determine who had more valid or powerful magic.  Magic, as a whole, was a very fluid thing.  Even mortals could channel it if they concentrated enough.
“While you are here, you will occupy my home,” she told us as she ducked her head slightly to enter the doorway.  We followed and once inside, we could easily stand to our full heights.
The hut was simple, but clean.  There was a largish bed in the center of the room covered in animal pelts.  A fireplace adorned the back wall, simple and stone, with a roaring blaze inside.  Cookware hung on hooks beside it. 
“We cannot take your home from you,” I told her quietly.  “There must be somewhere else we can sleep.”
“We have no extra homes,” she said in amusement.  “We are a simple people.  We only take what we need and we only use what we must.  We do not waste.  I am honored for you to use my home.  I will share with someone else.”
She showed us a few things inside of the hut and pulled a buckskin over the single window before turning back to us. 
Pulling a silver ring off of her finger, she handed it to me.  The silver knotted ring glistened mutely in the dark.
“Promise me, Empusa, that you will wear this.  It’s enchanted with protection.  Never walk outside of our circle without it.  Do I have your word?”
Her face was serious, her voice solemn.  It would not hurt me to wear it, so I opened my fingers and allowed it to fall into my palm. 
“Of course. Thank you.”
She nodded and turned to leave.  “I’ll send someone for you when it is time to eat.  You should rest.”
With that, she was gone. 
Brennan and I were left staring at each other in the dim light of the hut.  He reached out to me and almost without thinking, I collapsed against his chest.  His heart thudded against my ear, its strength a throbbing cadence.  I memorized the rhythm, tracing the outline of his collarbone with my fingers. 
“We should rest,” he reminded me gently, staring down with his amazing golden eyes.  His father, Apollo, was known throughout the world as being beautiful and charming.  Brennan had inherited the best of those traits, which was a little funny since he had never actually met his father.  He had been raised by mortals. 
My fingers made their way to the cleft in his chin and I rose on my tiptoes to kiss his lips. 
“I didn’t get the chance to thank you for saving me from the lava,” I told him, my gaze frozen on his.   He smiled, his perfect lips stretching over a white smile.
“Anytime,” he answered confidently.  “Anytime, anyplace, moon princess.”
“Ugh,” I rolled my eyes.  “Don’t you start.” Twisting out of his arms, I padded across the dirt floor to the bed.  Brennan followed closely on my heels.
“What?” he raised a golden eyebrow.  “You don’t enjoy adulation?”
I cringed even at the word.  “I don’t deserve adulation,” I replied quietly.  “Nothing about me is deserving of that kind of respect.  My mother, yes.  Me?  I’ve never been given the chance to earn it.  I’ve spent my entire life, my entire existence, running from my own curse.”
Brennan inhaled sharply, pulling my chin up with his index finger.  “I don’t ever want to hear that you are not worthy or undeserving of something again,” he cautioned me.  “Your curse is what it is.  You didn’t ask for it and it isn’t your fault.  We will search the earth from top to bottom to find a way to reverse it.  If we can’t find an answer on the earth, we’ll search elsewhere. I promise you, by all that is holy, we’ll figure it out.”
I nodded tiredly.  I knew he wanted to believe that.
“I believe that because it is true,” he told me firmly. “Now, hop into that bed.  We’re going to rest.”
“Yes, sir,” I answered with a weak smile.  Pulling the skins back, I did as he said.  He climbed in beside me, pulling me into his arms. It was my favorite place to be.
“And when we wake, you will need to feed,” he told me.  “I know that you’re weakened now from everything that happened in Death Valley.”
My heart raced at the thought.  “I can’t feed from you,” I stammered.  “We haven’t mastered our powers yet and your strength has grown.  I don’t know if I could control it.”  The thought, the simple thought, of drinking Brennan’s blood now terrified me enough that I started to see his aura.  The colors blinded me and I closed my eyes against the light.
“Don’t worry,” he whispered softly into my hair. Cupping my face, he ran his thumb lightly along my cheekbone.
“You don’t need to drink from me.  We’ll think of something else.”
I squeezed my eyes tightly closed.  This part of my curse was truly a curse. But it was something I’d think about after I’d rested.  Brennan was right.  I was in a weakened state.  A little rest would go a long way. 

Friday, March 30, 2012

YA Indie Carnival- Spring Break


So today on the carnival, we're supposed to talk about either spring break or a novel we've written that takes place in the spring.  Well, it just so happens that my current work in progress, FRAGILE, begins in the spring.  The main character, Hardy Bradford, lays eyes on Miracle St. James for the very first time in May and she rocks his world in an instant.  I've already posted it, but for those of you who are new to me, new to my blog and new to my writing, I'll post it again.  For those of you who have already read it, swoon with me one more time over Hardy.  *sigh*  He's so very yummy.  At least I think so.  What girl wouldn't want a Hardy of her own?  Um, none that I know of!!  Anyway, read on ladies and gents, and let me introduce you to Hardy and Miracle.



CHAPTER ONE

May

Hardy tried once more to block out the incessant giggling of the cheerleaders, but again, it proved impossible.  He wondered absently how he’d been wrangled into bringing his girlfriend to a photo shoot, but then he remembered the tool of persuasion she’d used and he answered his own questions.

Just then, Cheyenne tossed a coy smile over her shoulder, her sparkling blue eyes meeting his for the briefest of moments before she turned her attention back to her cohorts.  Hardy knew she’d done it partly to tease him and partly to make sure he was watching her.  She was incredibly vain like that, something he’d struggled to tolerate for three long years.  Although she was one of the most beautiful creatures he’d ever seen, it never got any easier to endure Cheyenne and her abominable ego. 

Gritting his teeth, Hardy forced his lips to curve up into the fake smile he’d worn for going on six months, ever since he realized how ill-suited he and Cheyenne really were. Lately, he found that he was continually reminding himself that he could end things with her after his senior football season. Just a few more months. 
The thing was, Hardy didn’t want to change anything and risk throwing off his game.  His entire future was riding on his football scholarship to LSU, and never a day went by that his father didn’t remind him that there was nothing more important in life at this point.  With that in mind, Hardy reassured himself that he could put up with her unparalleled beauty, her insatiable sex drive and her iron-clad ambition for one more year.

“Is there any way you girls could perform one of your routines so I could get some good action shots?” the photographer asked, directing his question toward Cheyenne.

Hardy knew what her answer would be before she gave it.  Cheyenne loved performing even more than she loved having her picture taken, and that was a lot.

“Of course,” Cheyenne answered, waving her hand dismissively, the gesture belying the excitement she undoubtedly felt at having even a small audience of eyes trained on her.  Whether there were two people around or two hundred, nearly every eye within viewing distance of Cheyenne was always glued to her.  Not only was she the captain of the squad and the focal point of nearly every cheer and dance they performed, Cheyenne was also drop-dead gorgeous, someone who always found herself at the center of attention, and people inevitably gravitated toward her.  Unfortunately, they didn’t know what she was really like.

Hardy watched her hips sway inside her short skirt as Cheyenne made her way to the iPod docking station she’d brought.  Her nimble fingers worked the lighted screen of her phone for a few seconds before she bent over and dropped it into the designated slot.  She didn’t bother bending at the knees, happily displaying her “reddies” as she called them to Hardy where he sat in the grass behind her.  When she straightened, she winked quickly in his direction before scampering back to the pack of vicious she-wolves she called cheerleaders.

Although his body twitched in response to the display, Hardy still couldn’t bring himself to sit through another of the routines he’d seen dozens of times already.  Waiting for Cheyenne to glance once more in his direction, Hardy signaled to her that he’d be back and then moved quickly away.  He couldn’t wait to escape the area cordoned off for the squad and head for the peace and quiet of the main park area.

When he’d walked far enough that he could no longer hear the annoying thump of too-peppy music, Hardy slowed his pace and looked for a tree that he could lean against and enjoy some shade.  Florida could be very warm in the winter, but the summer?  Sometimes “sweltering” didn’t even touch it.

A huge oak near the outer edge of the park drew his eye and Hardy headed that way.  The fact that it was near a bench that was empty only added to the appeal.

Hardy’s above-average height necessitated that he duck beneath the low hanging branches of the tree, which he did, before turning to lean against the trunk.  To his pleasant surprise, Hardy found himself basically obscured from view of the casual observer. 

Taking a deep breath, he relaxed against the bark, drawing into his lungs air that was at least ten degrees cooler.  Hardy closed his eyes and let his head fall back, enjoying the distant sounds of dogs barking enthusiastically and children squealing excitedly.

“How about here?” Hardy heard a small, high voice ask, presumably referring to the bench directly in front of the tree.  He swallowed the growl of displeasure at the unwanted intrusion upon his oasis.  He could only hope that whoever it was would either move on to a more choice spot or keep quiet if they decided to light on his bench. 

Silence stretched on for so long, Hardy thought he was once more alone.  But then an answering voice dashed his hopes. 

And piqued his interest.

“It’s perfect,” the other voice—a softer, older voice—responded. 

Hardy’s eyes popped open at the sound, his only thought of what the face that went with that voice might look like.  Unfortunately, his view was partially obscured.  Moving his head this way and that, he could still only see bits and pieces of a feminine face that the shifting oak leaves revealed as they danced on the light breeze.

“I love the smell of sunshine,” the voice said.

Hardy thought that an odd thing to say, an odd observation to make, and he found himself even more curious to see what the owner of that voice looked like.

Carefully, quietly, Hardy straightened away from the tree and moved his head, hoping to be able to see through a gap in the branches.  The only sight his new position provided was the unobstructed view of a bright red balloon.

“Why is it you want to let it go again?” the smaller of the two voices asked.

After another short pause, the deeper voice answered.  “I’ve just always wanted to see a balloon drift off into a cloudless sky.”

“You’re so weird,” the child teased.

“I know,” the older voice agreed, chuckling. 

More intrigued by the older girl with every word that was spoken, Hardy dropped into a squat to look unabashedly at the bench in front of him.  What he saw confused him. 

And enthralled him.

Two tiny wisps of girls sat on the wrought iron seat.  It was obvious by looking that one was much younger, surely not more than twelve or thirteen years old.  The other one, though obviously older, was not much larger than the child.  Beyond those simple observations, about her size and her age, Hardy didn’t give the younger girl a second glance.  His gaze was riveted to the older one.

He spared only a cursory glance at the ill-fitting jeans and too-thick sweater she wore and the camera strap looped around her neck. He found her clothing odd considering the warm temperatures, but gave it no more thought than that once he saw her face.

Porcelain skin covered the most delicately feminine features he’d ever seen.  The sun had brought a flush of color to the pale expanse of her cheeks, painting them a shade lighter than the dark rose of her full lips.  She was turned slightly away from him, so he couldn’t see her eyes very clearly, only her pert nose and the gentle curve of her chin.  The shine of the smooth skin atop her head drew his eye momentarily, distracting him from the beauty of her face.  Her scalp glistened in the sun and she made no move to conceal it.

“I want one, Mommy!  I want one!”

The cry of the child came from somewhere to the left and Hardy’s eyes darted to a young boy and his mother for only an instant before returning to the girl.  Nothing seemed as interesting, as captivating, as important as the face of that girl.  She drew his eye like the shore draws the ocean. 

The girl had turned in the boy’s direction and, from his peripheral vision, Hardy could see the boy dragging his mother forward, toward the bench, his short arm raised to point at the bright red balloon.

“Where did you get that, sweetie?” the mother asked of the girl, her tone polite and gentle. 

“I brought it with me,” the girl answered, her voice like smooth, cool water.

“Did you bring more? I want one,” the boy whined.

“Gabe, shh!  Don’t be rude.”

“No, I didn’t,” the girl answered, her brow wrinkling in shared disappointment.  “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” the boy said, his voice clearly indicating that it was anything but okay.

“Come on, Gabe.  We can get you a balloon another day.  How about some ice cream?” the mother bribed.

“I’ve already had ice cream,” he moaned.  “And I’m the only one at the party that didn’t get a balloon.  Why can’t I get one today?”

The heartbreak in the boy’s voice was so evident, Hardy managed to drag his eyes away from the girl just long enough to glance once more at Gabe; his face was nothing short of crestfallen and his chin trembled with emotion.

“Did you go to a party today?” the girl asked.

The boy nodded.

“But you didn’t get a balloon to take home?”

He shook his head, one fat tear escaping to roll slowly down his rounded cheek.

“Everyone else got one, but not me.”

The girl slid off the end of the bench to kneel in front of the little boy.  Pulling off the ribbon that was tied around her wrist anchoring the balloon to her frail body, she held it out toward Gabe.  When he didn’t immediately step forward, the girl nodded encouragingly and smiled.  Hardy’s breath caught in his chest, completely mesmerized by the simple gesture.  In the back of his mind, he was certain he’d never seen anything more beautiful, more perfect than her smile.

“Here.  Take mine.  I can get another one,” she assured.

“You don’t have to do that,” the mother offered, grabbing Gabe’s hand when he reached to take the ribbon from her grasp, anxious to get hold of the coveted balloon.

“Please,” the girl said.  “I want to.  I want him to have it.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded again, her smile never faltering.  “I’m sure.”

Thrilled, Gabe snatched the balloon from the girl’s hand, turning immediately to run excitedly toward an open expanse of grass to play with his new toy.

“I’m sorry.  He’s not usually that rude,” the mother explained, visibly embarrassed.  “But thank you.  Really,” she said sincerely then scurried off to catch up to her son.

Hardy’s gaze dropped once more to the girl.  She remained on her knees, her head turned toward the boy where he ran in wide circles, the red balloon bobbing in the air above his head.

“Why did you give it to him?” the younger girl asked.  “You’ve been talking about letting that balloon go for months.”

Hardy saw the girl’s chest rise and fall on a sigh.

“Because it made him smile, Mila.  Look at him.”

The younger girl, Mila, turned her head to watch Gabe as he frolicked.

“But still,” she argued.

“No, no buts.  He needed it more than I do.”

Just then, a shrill voice broke into the strangely poignant beauty of the moment, shaking Hardy from his absorption.  Reflexively, he looked to the left, in the same direction from whence Gabe and his mother had come, and he saw his girlfriend making her way across the grass to him.  There was no more hiding from her.  And he’d never wanted to hide more.

“There you are,” Cheyenne called, picking up her pace and jogging toward him.

Movement drew Hardy’s eye back to the girl who knelt but a few feet from him.  She had turned to look at him, obviously surprised by his presence.  He was immediately lost in the most incredible emerald green eyes he’d ever seen.

They stared at one another for what seemed an eternity before Cheyenne intruded once more on the perfection of the moment.

“We’re done.  Are you ready?”

The girl’s gaze swung toward Cheyenne before she rose to her feet and moved back to sit on the bench.  Cheyenne glanced briefly at the duo, instantly dismissing them as unimportant, and then focused once more on Hardy.

“Come on, babe. I’m hungry and we have to drop Elise off before we can go to The Depot.”

Before he could think to stop himself, Hardy’s eyes flickered quickly to the girl.  He found that she was watching him with the most curious expression.  If he hadn’t known better, he might’ve thought it was pity. 

But why would she pity him?

Cheyenne cleared her throat, drawing his attention back to her.  There was a fair amount of agitation etched on her face when he was finally able to actually concentrate on her.

“What?  Are you suddenly into bald chicks or something?”

Hardy could feel the blood rush up his neck and flood his cheeks.  They burned in embarrassment.  He looked guiltily back at the girl, feeling a sickness in the pit of his stomach that Cheyenne might’ve caused her some pain.  But what he found was an empty bench.  She and the younger girl had quietly moved off the seat and were walking slowly away. 

Hardy watched them as they retreated.  He saw the girl pause for just a moment before they rounded one of the decorative gazebos that dotted the park.  His heart leapt in his chest, thinking she was going to turn and look at him.  But she didn’t.  Instead, Hardy saw her tip her head back and let the sun pour down over her face, as if she were enjoying the feel of the heat on her skin.  The simple gesture stirred something inside Hardy, making him suddenly ashamed of the company he kept, ashamed of the way he lived his life, ashamed of the things he took for granted.  He had no idea how something so brief, so innocuous as that gesture could have such a profound effect on him, but it did.  She did.  It was undeniable. 

As she disappeared behind the gazebo, Hardy couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to her in her short life to make her so appreciative of such mundane things as the sun and the park and a balloon.  He was surprised at how desperately he wanted to know the answer to those questions, to know the answers to her—her life, her mind, her heart.  He knew there was nothing that he wanted more than to know her. 

Lost in thought, Hardy mused silently about the girl as Cheyenne led him back the way she’d come.  By the time he came to his senses, they were already back where they’d started and Cheyenne was slapping her car keys into his hand.

“You drive.  I need to change clothes,” she stated, her tone indicating she was still irritated.

Still deeply shaken by the girl with the red balloon, Hardy stared blankly at Cheyenne for several long seconds.  He knew his hesitation had cost him, cost him something wonderful he felt. 

In his mind, he threw caution to the wind and turned from Cheyenne to jog back to the tree, back to the bench.  Back to the girl.  He knew she wouldn’t be there, so in his head, he scoured the park for her, his eyes scanning every head and every face for hers, but she was nowhere to be found.  He knew that when he’d let Cheyenne lead him away, he’d lost his chance to find out the name of the girl who, without a single word spoken to him, had stolen his heart.

LOOK FOR IT APRIL 8, 2012

Dani Snell Refracted Light Reviews
Patti Larsen Author of The Ghost Boy of MacKenzie House, The Hunted Series and the Hayle Coven Novels
Courtney Cole Author of Every Last Kiss, Fated, Princess, and Guardian. Also a contributing author in The Glassheart Chronicles
Fisher Amelie Author of The Understorey, as well as a contributing author in The Glassheart Chronicles
Laura Elliott Author of Winnemucca as well as 13 on Halloween, book 1 in the Teen Halloween Series
Amy Jones Author of The Soul Quest Trilogy as well as a contributing author in The Glassheart Chronicles
Rachel Coles Author of Diary of a Duct Tape Zombie, Whistles, Beergarden, Plagues, Bees of St. John, and Mushrooms
T.R. Graves Author of Warriors of the Cross
PJ Hoover Author of Solstice, The Emerald Tablet, The Navel of the World, The Necropolis
Cheri Schmidt Author of Fateful, Fractured, and Fair Maiden
Lexus Luke Author of Manitou, The Sky People Saga
Suzy Turner Author of December Moon and Raven
K.C. Blake Author of Vampire Rules
Gwenn Wright Author of Filter
Kimberly Kinrade Author of Bits of You & Pieces of Me and Forbidden Mind
Madeline Smoot Author of Missing, Summer Shorts, and The Girls
Cidney Swanson Author of Ripple series
Heather Self Blogger, Reviewer and upcoming Indie Author
Heather M. White, Author of The Destiny Saga
Melissa Pearl, Author The Time Spirit Trilogy
T. G. Ayer
Bryna Butler, Author of Midnight Guardian series

Fragile- Blurb and Playlist

All right, so I know I don't have a cover yet and the book isn't done, but it's practically written in my head, which is very unusual for me.  Maybe it's because it's my first contemporary YA romance and this is how they'll go.  I don't know, but the story flows, the music flows and now the blurb is done.  The cover is on its way, too.  When I get it, I'll post it as well. 

Anyway, here's the blurb and the playlist is on the sidebar.  Let me know what you think.  I'm anxious to know what y'all think, if it speaks to you like it does to me.  I feel like I've lived Miracle and Hardy's life WITH them.  It's crazy!

FRAGILE, coming April 2012

Her heart, as delicate as glass.  His love, as strong as steel.  Can either survive life and death? 

Hardy Bradford is an eighteen year old football phenomenon who has the girl, the school, the town and the future in the palm of his hand.  His life is all mapped out for him, right down to who he’ll marry and how he’ll become a professional football player.  It doesn't seem to matter that Hardy would’ve chosen a much different life if it was up to him.  But it's not.  At least not until his Miracle comes along.

The first time Hardy laid eyes on Miracle St. James, he didn’t know who she was, but he knew she was something different and that he’d never get her out of his head.  And he didn’t.  Now, months later, Hardy’s world is turned upside down when Miracle shows up in his class, stealing his heart and forever changing the course of his life. 

Miracle’s sick.  Very sick.  And Hardy might be losing the only thing in his life that has ever mattered.  How much is too much to sacrifice for the one you love?  For just a little more time?  For just one more chance?  Can Hardy be the hero Miracle needs?  Or is it Hardy that needs saving?