The Rule of Seven

Hey, guys,

So, the lovely and amazing Jessa Russo tagged me on Facebook with this little game. So, you can all thank her for this teaser from SHATTERED SECRETS.

~ There are more psychos? Fantastic.

Boredas offered me his hand again. I took it, not because I wanted to touch him, but because I had to get out of the trunk, survey my surroundings, look for an escape. He pulled me from the car, and I landed on the crunchy gravel then glanced around. Black Dodge Charger, field of harvested corn in front of a dense forest across the street, rows and rows of scrappy pine trees to my left and right, and a shack of an A-frame house behind me.

I swallowed hard.~

So, here are the rules: Go to either page 7 or 77 of your manuscript. Count down 7 lines, then copy the next 7 lines to your status. After that, name 7 more authors to come out and play.

My seven authors:

Dawna Raver
Julia Hughes
Deborah Krager
Raine Thomas
Ayden Morgen
Jamie Ayres
Wendy Russo

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Shiny Teeth

Welcome back, Six Sundayers (and everyone else). We're closing in on the last of the official Six Sunday posts, but don't worry, I'll still find ways to share teasers with you.

This week I'm bringing another segment from my WIP Shattered Secrets. I decided to make a pretty little placeholder image for this book. Makes it more real. More fun.

Anyway, last week Abigail was riding around in the trunk of some mystery--and stinky--person's car. This week, things progress just a bit. She's been screaming and kicking and trying everything in her power to get free, but well, duct tape is some good stuff!

Enjoy!

~ My abductor opened the trunk, and I pushed myself back. A futile attempt to get away.

Black painted the sky, and a dingy yellow light glowed brightly behind his head. At least it was still dark; I couldn't be that far from home. He brought a cigarette to his mouth, then took a long, dramatic drag. Blowing the smoke towards me, he smiled, revealing a mouth full of gleaming sharp teeth.~

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Wilde's Fire            -           Wilde's Army              -            Wilde's Meadow

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Must Read: Warm Bodies

Wow. Just wow. I'm not a big fan of zombie books. I think people's fascination with human-destroying diseases is pretty freaky.

Then, I'm not a big fan of a horror.

But Isaac Marion may change my mind.

Let me introduce you to R. He's a zombie who doesn't remember his name, how old he is, what he used to do before the world collapsed, how the world collapsed, how to read, or anything that might actually help him be human. What he does know: he has to eat humans to stay alive, and it makes him feel undeniably guilty. (Trust me, he moans about it.)

R is different; his brain surges with eloquent words, with a need to feel, with a longing to regain the life he lost. Yes, he's still a zombie—there's brain-eating, loss of limbs, shotguns to the head—but he's the sweetest zombie you'll ever meet.

Then R discovers Julie, a human who he now feels the need to protect. "Keep . . . you safe."

Julie makes him feel. She reminds him what it's like to be a human. She gives him hope, because Julie has it. A lot. There's a fantastic message to be found in this book, a message to enjoy what you have, live life to the fullest, never give up.

It's a message I truly believe in.

But there are bigger forces at play here. In this sci-fi future, the humans are dwindling and will shoot anything that walks the wrong way, and the Boneys (these are the skeletal versions of zombies, the ones who have been this way for quite a while—and even seem to like it—who make me think of aliens) don't like threats to their survival.

As R and Julie grow closer, everyone around them changes. R's best friend M wants to help "Keep. Her. Safe." and he even gathers an army of "changing" zombies to help.

An epic battle between Boneys, humans, and R-like zombies rages, and when R and Julie think they're going to die, true love proves them wrong.

Seriously. You have to read this book. True love. Epic battles. A lesson in appreciation and hope. A little comedy. Zombie brain-eating. A happy ending!

Oh, and it's a short read. I devoured this in a few hours.

5 stars and THANK YOU to Isaac Marion for sharing his words with us.

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Trip to the Store

I don't know why we do it, take all our kids to the store with us. I'm not sure if it's truly family time, or if we just enjoy torturing our children—and ourselves. But, nonetheless, we all pile into the car and hit the grocery aisles together.

Sometimes having five people works to our advantage. We find items on our list quicker when the twelve-year-old searches with us. We remember to buy things we otherwise would have forgotten when the six-year-old is with us (I still can't believe she's SIX!).

But there are other days when a singular thought SCREAMS through my head, "WHAT WERE YOU THINKING???"

Yesterday was one of those days. This is how our trip went.

Kid #1 to Kid #2: Would you stop looking at me?

Me: Enough. I know you're mad at me because I won't let you read that book, but stop taking it out on everyone else. Seriously, your sister is looking at you. Get over it.

Kid #1 huffed and lagged behind.

Kid #2 pushed away Kid #3: Stop, stop, stop. Mommy, she's trying to lick me.

Me: Gross, Rissa. *Sticks arm between them and pushes them away from each other* (Why do they make carts with dual seats again?)

Kid #3 smiled and stuck out her tongue, and the hubs wandered off to collect items on our list . . . alone.

Grr.

Kid #2 screamed—in the store!

Me: Abby, shhh.

Kid #2: But she keeps trying to lick me.

Me *Takes kid #2 out of shopping cart*: How about you walk for a while?

I loaded a few items into the buggy as my husband rounded the corner—thank God—and added his loot to the rest of the pile.

Hubs: Was that Abby I heard screaming two aisles over?

Me: *Glares*

Kid #1 ran up the aisle with Kid #2 hot on his trail: Get away from me.

Hubs: Get over here, both of you!

I glanced around to make sure no one was watching our horrible parenting skills.

Kid #2 wailed: He hit me!

Me *puts her back in cart with licking sister*: Ethan, why can't you just get along with her?

Kid #1: She's mean and annoying and—

Me: I get it. It's impossible. When are you going to learn to be the bigger person?

Kid #1 rolled his eyes.

Hubs wandered off again while the rest of us perused the produce section. Somewhere near the potatoes, Kid #3 started growling like a dinosaur, at the top of her lungs. Everyone in the store looked our way.

Me, under my breath: Rissa, stop.

Kid #3 leaned her head back and roaaaaarrreeeed again.

I laughed. What else could I do? She wasn't crying? She was just being a toddler, a creative, imaginative toddler. While the roaring was quite loud, my request to make her stop only made her louder.

Kid #1: I'm so embarrassed. What's wrong with her?

Me: Same thing that was wrong with you when you were this age.

Kid #1 rambled on about something I'm sure meant he was perfect and we would never have allowed him to get away with anything of the sort. Maybe he's right. Maybe not. I'm pretty sure it doesn't matter because to him I'll always be wrong.

Hubs returned with the rest of the items from our list, and we rushed toward the check out lines. While a few of our fellow shoppers probably judged us, I was at least satisfied we didn't break anything or have to remove our children from the store.

Not that we've ever had to do that . . . yet. 

How about you? Ever take your kids somewhere and regret it? OR, if you are a kid, have you ever been with your parents on one of these shopping trips?

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Flashback Blog Hop

So, my good friend Fel is hosting the Flashback Blog Hop to celebrate the one year anniversary of her blog. She's asked us to repost things from 2012 that we are proud of, love, had a good response to, etc. I really wanted to post a piece of poetry from December 2011, but that would be cheating.

I decided to blog about one of my more popular posts from 2012, a piece of flash fiction I wrote for The Writers' Collection, a group I need to get back into because they really helped with my creative juices.

This piece is titled Once Upon a Time (and was written in a very short period, so forgive me).

Enjoy!

~ My grandmother lies in her hospital bed, machines and wires hooked in places that make me cringe, fighting for her life. Watching her struggle for each breath, wheezing and gasping even with the aid of oxygen, makes me burn inside.

I reach for her hand then squeeze her cold fingers between mine, rubbing skin so thin with my thumb I’m afraid I’ll hurt her. Grandma’s eyes flutter open, and she smiles. My mother and father jump out of their chairs and stand behind me, each placing a sweaty palm on my shoulder.

“Mom?” Dad asks, voice shaking in a way no daughter should ever hear from her father.

But Grandma doesn’t look away from me; she holds my gaze, her eyes pale blue and determined. 

“Do you . . . .” With her free hand, she slowly reaches for the mask covering her mouth, but doesn’t have the strength to remove the elastic bands.

“Here, let me help you,” Mom says, stepping beside me.

“I’ve got it, Mom.” I stand and help Grandma take off her mask. Mom shouldn’t have to do any more; Dad’s been a wreck, and she needs to worry about him.

“Tha—” Grandma coughs, chest rattling with whatever fluid is invading her lungs. “Thank you.”

Tears roll down my cheeks and drip from my chin as I return to my uncomfortable blue chair next to her bed. Grandma’s the strongest, most caring woman I know, and the doctors said she’d be lucky to survive the night.

Cancer is a bitch.

“Do you need a drink, Grandma?” I ask.

Dad sits on the foot of the bed and drops his bright-red face into his hands. Mom rolls Grandma’s hospital tray toward her then stares at my father, her face as white as Grandma’s bed sheets.

Dad has always been so strong, just like Grandma, always taken care of us, told us everything will be okay, we’d always be together, we’d always have our family. Now part of his family is dying, part of his foundation, his root, his childhood.

Grandma tugs at my arm with the strength of a young child. “Do you remember that story I liked to tell you when you were little?”

Turning back toward her, I nod.

“Will you tell it to me now?”

I stare out the window, out toward the shining sun, the cars driving eighty-miles per hour on the highway, watch a flock of black birds soar through the deep-blue sky, then take a shallow breath. “Once upon a time, there was a young girl who loved a young man—”

My father chokes and runs out the door, releasing a howl of agony once he’s in the hall. Whispers drift into the room. Mom tells Dad to be strong for me, for Grandma, but all I hear from him in response are wails.

Words catch in my throat, my face burns, and my hands sweat. My father hates this story, but to see him react that way . . . .

“Be more courageous than your father, Helen. My life has been fulfilling, and I do not fear death.” Grandma closes her eyes and wheezes. If it weren’t for the sounds she’s making, I’d swear she’s already dead and in her coffin.

Grandma’s white hair is messed up around her face, and her deep-set wrinkles do little to hide the dark blue veins under her thin veil of skin. “You don’t have to tell me the rest; the fact you remember means everything to me. You see, this is my story, Helen. I’ve been sharing it with you all these years so you would know a thing or two about your family’s history, so when you have children of your own you can share it with them, or share your own story with them.”

I gasp. “You’re the girl who fell in love with the young man in the farm field? You stole clothes and bandages from your parents to give to him? You’re the one who broke your foot chasing a chicken and was helped by the same young man five years later?”

Grandma smiles again, keeping her eyes closed. “Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Your father didn’t want me to fill your head with love stories, but he’ll have a few things to tell his grandchildren someday, and so will you. I love you, Helen—”

The machines beep, a speaker announces code blue, echoing all around the sterile room.

I look at Grandma, her mouth open and eyes wide, then burst into tears. “Grandma! Someone help. Please, help her.”

A crowd of nurses rush into the room and push me toward the door. My mother and father appear beside me and wrap their arms around my shoulders. Grandma’s gone and she’s not coming back. I don’t need a team of doctors and nurses to tell me that.

Rushing from the room, I bolt for the exit. I don’t know where I’m going or how I’ll get there, but there’s one thing I’ll always remember: Grandma’s story. One day whether I’m telling my children or grandchildren, the story will always start: Once Upon A Time.~

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Wilde's Fire            -           Wilde's Army              -            Wilde's Meadow

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Stuffed in the Trunk #SixSunday

Happy New Year! I hope everyone had a safe and wonderful holiday season. I know I enjoyed my family and friends and wish I were still sitting at home in my comfy chair! But . . . I'm not. Well, I probably will be by the time you're reading this.

This segment comes from Shattered Secrets, right after a strange man abducts Abigail Nichols from her family's front porch.

Enjoy!

~ I knew two things: my head hurt, and I was stuffed in the trunk of a car traveling down a bumpy gravel road. Dust floated all around me, the millions of tiny particles glowing red from the taillights. Someone's dirty laundry must have filled the duffel bag my head rested on; the smell would have cleared a skunk out of a room. My wrists were bound behind my back, and I was gagged.

Even if I could scream, my voice would have been useless. We were driving, probably in the middle of nowhere.~

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Wilde's Fire            -           Wilde's Army              -            Wilde's Meadow

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The Charge #coverreveal

Last May, I still worked for Curiosity Quills Press and had the wonderful experience of reading submissions. During this process, I met Sharon Bayliss. She's quite a talented author, and I loved being able to tell her "YES! You will be published!"

Today is her big Cover Reveal day, and I couldn't be happier to host her. Her book comes out in the next couple months, and it's something Sci-Fi fans will adore!

What if Texas never joined the United States, and instead became it's own nation? 

In The Charge that's exactly what happened. In the 1830s, the Republic of Texas was taken over by a dictator with superhuman powers who named himself the first King of Texas. Eighty years later, the Texas Empire has fallen into ruin, but the story of the Texas royal dynasty is far from over.

College freshman Warren King wants nothing more than to enjoy a beer by the pool on his summer break...but that's not what fate has in store for him. When Texas soldiers kidnap his little brother, he embarks into a still-wild West to save him.  While fumbling through a search attempt in the lawless Texas Empire, he makes a discovery that changes his life forever. He and his brother are estranged members of the Texas royal family and the King wants them both dead.  Now Warren must save his brother and choose whether or not to be King, follow a King, or die before he can retire his fake ID.

The Charge was a quarterfinalist for the 2012 Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award and won a Publisher's Weekly review:

"A solid cast of well-developed characters, including a “super-tall” royal Texan family, stars in this thrill ride of a novel teetering between sci-fi adventure and alternate historical epic...Easily shifting between characters’ perspectives, and relentless in its action, well-placed humor, and suspense, this manuscript is a delight."

The Charge will be available in digital and print formats from Curiosity Quills Press on Texas Independence Day, 3/2/13. Go to www.facebook.com/thechargebook for updates.

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Wilde's Fire            -           Wilde's Army              -            Wilde's Meadow

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