Indie-licious Teaser Blog Hop! Teaser from Moon Killers (Shadow Series #3)

Moon Killers (Shadow Series #3) releases May 2013

Moon Killers (Shadow Series #3) releases May 2013

Here’s a little bit about the story:

After slaying her first Shadow as a freshman, Roxie expected sophomore year to be less epic. But this year she’ll discover it will take far more than her skills with a sword to win her ultimate reward, her Last Life. A human life. Roxie’s five-hundred-year reign as Shadow Slayer has just begun.

Interworld peace is a lot for a fifteen year old to handle. Slaying shadows is one thing, but now Roxie must face her biggest enemy yet. When Roxie’s Shadow influences her in tragic ways, she must master moon killing––a type of time travel––if she is to survive the Shadows bent on her murder.

But moon killing is tricky, and if Roxie isn’t careful she could destroy everything she so desperately wants to save, not to mention lose a chance at her Last Life. Moon killing’s thrill proves addictive, enchanting. When Roxie’s boyfriend Drew becomes more and more of a stranger and her world begins to crumble, she finds peace in her addiction. Now, moon killing could kill Roxie and she may be too heartbroken to care.

And here’s the teaser from Moon Killers:

“Shadows are at play,” Drew says staring at the moon.

A chill rushes over my body and I try to shake it off. The autumn wind kicks up leaves and swirls around us blowing cold, right through me. Drew takes off his letterman jacket and places it over my shoulders. I zip it up and lean into him. “Thanks,” I say. It seems impossible to warm up now. I hate the cold so much that I wallpapered my Chicago bedroom with palm trees. Lots and lots of palm trees.

Drew puts his arms around me. This is so normal. Him hugging me. Us standing here together, like a million other high school couples have done in this very spot for over a hundred years. He’s just a boy and I’m just a girl. I ignore my nerves. I pretend that nothing about this night scares me, especially Shadows at play.

Drew gives my hand a History Channel kiss and doesn’t even flinch in the cold. He stands defiant against it all red-cheeked wearing only a gray, v-neck sweater and jeans. But it’s not my favorite look for him. Even when he’s in jeans it makes him look even more like he was born to wear a tuxedo. He’s got that energy about him. Regal in a way no boy I’ve known could ever be.

I can’t wait any longer. It’s been torture just pretending like everything is fine, when it isn’t. It’s been agony waiting for the next battle, the next rupture between worlds. “If Shadows are at play, like you say, then it’s even more important that I know how to kill the moon, right?”

Drew kicks a spot in the grass over and over. Every time I confront him about what I must know, what I need to know, he always changes the subject. He’s sort of been in denial about training me, I guess. Educating me. He wants to forget that I’m the Shadow Slayer. For some reason, he’s having a hard time helping me learn what I have to know to fight off and survive the Shadows. To keep them at bay. So he’s just blown it off, wanting more than anything to keep things normal between us. To try to hang on to normal for as long as possible.

I guess I can understand that, after fighting Shadows for five hundred long years, Drew just wants a little peace. He wants to focus on his Last Life. But I can’t take it any more. I can’t just stay silent. He’s the only one who can teach me what I need to know. And he sucks at it. I take a deep breath and try and forget that I’m asking him this one more time, for the hundredth time. “Where are the Seven Cities of Gold?”

Drew stops pounding the grass with his foot but he’s already worn a muddy spot there. He takes my hand in his. We walk off the field and when we step onto the rubbery, all-weather track each cushioned step gives me little pings in the pit of my stomach. The feeling I get when I’m being ignored. Nothing is as awful as him ignoring me. Nothing. Especially when I have Shadows to slay. I clear my throat trying to contain what’s bubbling up inside of me. Wanting to run away now.

“It is time.” Drew squeezes my hand, turns to face me and says, “But first, you need to know, the truth.” He glances at the nearly full moon.

“About what?”

“About me,” Drew says, shuffling his feet, glancing at the moon again as if it might have shifted in the sky. “Stand here.” He wraps his arm around my waist and gently walks me over to the bleachers. “Remember what I said about the full moon?”

I nod.

“When the moon is full it’s the time when the veil between the world of Shadows and the world of humans is at its thinnest,” he says. His warm breath on my neck sends waves of heat through me. I place my hand over his, the one he has wrapped around my waist, and push his hand into my stomach. We walk together this way and stop only when we’re a few feet from the bleachers. He lets go of me and we stand an arm’s length away, just out of reach. He stares at the all-weather track and says, “Ready?”

“For what?” I say.

“To kill the moon,” he says with a slight smile.

I swallow hard. “Sure.”

He takes guarded steps, one, then another, inching his way toward me as if I’m a pile of dynamite or something that might explode if he walks too fast. It’s like he’s shy but maybe he’s afraid or uncertain or pissed I’m not sure which. But it kind of seems to me, from the way he stoops and moves, like Drew hasn’t done this very often or if he has, he hasn’t killed the moon in a very long time. Maybe, centuries? When Drew’s just inches away, he places his hands on my hips and it’s like fifty butterflies swarm in circles in my stomach. Drew never takes his eyes off the track, though. We keep coming together, smoothly. I watch our shadows come closer and closer together on the reddish-orange track, then merge and blend into one.

Moon Killers releases May 2013. Click here to get in on the Moon Killers Cover Reveal Giveaway :)

Squeeeee! It’s a HOP, so get hopping! Thanks for stopping by, now check out some great teasers from these fabulous Indie-licious authors!

Tasty Thursday: food & books

With the big game coming up (GO NINERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) my mind is on food! Well, my mind is always on food. But today I’m thinking about it especially.

Why, you say? Well, I’m reading Safe Haven by Nicholas Sparks. It’s my first Nicholas Sparks novel *facepalm* did I just admit that to the world? Hmmm. Well, anyway, I’m reading Safe Haven as part of the 52 book in 52 week challenge and I’m a bit…er….behind. But I’m loving the reading list. Click here to check it out. There’s a scene in Safe Haven where Katie, a girl who just moved to a small town in North Carolina is getting dinner ready for Alex, a recent widower. I’m really enjoying the story. Nicholas Sparks has a very cinematic way of bringing me into a story which I totally love. His description of Katie making dinner is wonderful and it actually made me hungry. I made a note of each of the dishes and want to make a Safe Haven dinner one night soon. I actually stopped reading to make a note of the menu.

Safe Haven Dinner

Bacon-wrapped brie topped with raspberry sauce (RIGHT? um….YUM!)

Steak marinade : red wine, orange juice, grapefruit juice, salt & pepper (I’ll add some garlic)

Potatoes cut up and seasoned with parsley, salt, pepper & garlic

Corn bread

shrimp stuffed with crabmeat cooked in a scampi sauce (although how you stuff shrimp with crabmeat, I’ll never know, but it sounds good)

stuffed peppers

Doesn’t this sound fabulous? I love scenes where food is front & center. The scene is amazing. Having said that, I realized in my own writing that I don’t write about food a whole lot. I’ve written a scene in Transfer Student that features Icees (laced with vodka) and popcorn. But you knew I’d write about popcorn, didn’t you? It is my favorite food on the planet. Although, I just found out that I’m a VATA, and VATAs have to stay away from light, dry foods. What, you don’t know what a VATA is? That’s a whole other post…

What’s your favorite food scene? Read any good ones lately? Who do you want to win the Super Bowl?

Here’s a little foodie scene from Winnemucca, a small-town fairy tale:

I was in the middle of filling ketchup jars when some seven-foot guy walked up to the bar and leaned over in Dolly’s direction. He said, “Dolly! Why didn’t you marry me?”

Dolly leaned into him all playful and half-whispered, “Musta been outta my right mind.” It was the first time I’d seen her smile. 

“Who have we here?” Sasquatch asked.

“Now, you go on and have a seat. Ginger here will take your order. You having dinner?” Dolly handed me a pen and an ordering pad.

“Now, you know what I want,” Sasquatch smiled big in Dolly’s direction. “A slice of that apricot heaven you bake. I’ll have the usual for dinner.” He winked at Dolly, and turned toward me and said, “You know it’s like they say. If life finds you a little short of where you want to be at the end of the day, have an apricot pie to keep the crazy away. Isn’t that right, Ginger?”

I smiled. Dolly was what he really wanted. He probably had for years. Decades.

“We go by the book here, Missy. No minor ain’t serving no liquor in my Pit,” Dolly said holding the beer that was his dinner.

I swallowed hard wondering what job in what book an underage murderer got to do.

“You’ll stick to serving the sodas, pies and the fresh fried foods we have so much of,” Dolly said.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Polite little thing, isn’t she?” Sasquatch smiled my way. The clear whiter-than whites of his eyes struck me, sitting in the middle of such a life-worn, suntanned face. He sat in a seat at the window like he was in his living room. So at ease I assumed he sat there every time he came in.

I’d finished filling the ketchup jars so I moved on to coffee duty. But the grounds I scooped into the coffee filter smelled so vile I was certain it had gone bad. I didn’t think coffee could, but rancid’s what it smelled like. It turns out Dolly wasn’t as well known for her Cup o’ Joe as she was for her sugary confections. The money was in the booze, not the Joe.

When I scooped the last of the grounds into the machine, a gal strutted through the saloon doors. Her short, black spiky hair topped a ghostly, thinner-than-thin body. Her noble walk’s what grabbed my attention. If fortune had smiled more favorably upon her, she’d be dressed in ball gowns with her pick of princes. Comfortable with the big lives those smart girls lead. She was the most comfortable person in her own skin I’d ever met. Stood right next to me and leaned over the bar and didn’t say hi to me. I didn’t say hi to her either.

To celebrate the Big Game & Valentine’s Day, I put Winnemucca, a small-town fairy tale on sale for a limited time for 99 cents :) Winnemucca is a literary romance with a dash of magical realism. I hope you enjoy Ginny’s story. Buy it here or here or here.

Featured Release: Wolf Spell by M.R. Polish | With death starts a new beginning….


With Death Starts a New Beginning…

What would you do if you where faced with the enormous task of awaking the dead to save your life and those around you?

Wolf Spell

by

M.R. Polish

 

    Esmerelda ~ Wimpy witch my ass, all of the week’s frustrations I had pent up, churned inside me. I’d show him. The sprout grew about an inch and blossoms formed into tiny leaves, letting me know I’d made a connection with it.

He used his hands to beckon me. “Come on, I have all night for you to make me whine.”

I ignored him and focused on growing the ivy. It was no longer a sprout, but a full–grown wild plant with wide leaves covering the ground.

“Hey, wait a minute Es, what are you doing.” His voice hinted at uncertainty with a small hesitation. He looked over to where I concentrated.

“Nothing.” I turned back around to face him.

“Whatever you’re thinking in that pretty little head, don’t”

I held my arms up in front of me, boxing style, waiting for him to make a move. I’d be danged if he got me in another headlock.

We walked around each other in a tight circle. He held a smirk that made me think he was amused by all of this. The morning sun shone on his already bronzed skin, showing his many days in the sun. For one short moment, I forgot I should be fighting. We circled one more time, and he reached out his arm, trying to get me off balance, but I was ready and moved out of the way before his hand made contact.

He backed up again making space between us. “Es, I mean it, don’t you even dare think about it.”

It was too late. He could beg all he wanted, but I wouldn’t change my mind. The bush sprang to full life as I used its energy to create my spell with it. My mind locked on my target, and I grinned.

After a deep breath, the spell came to life in my hands. All the energy sizzled as if I held a thousand ants in the palm of my hand. An orb illuminated, growing in power, cupped in my hands. Tiny sparkles of energy floated out around the orb.

Lunging forward, I threw the orb as fast as I could. It spiraled as if it went a hundred miles per hour, smashing into Jarak’s chest, covering him in a raw poison ivy spell. If he wasn’t a Guardian, my spell would’ve hurt him, soaking into his skin and making him sick. As it was, the only part of the poison ivy that would affect him was the sore itchiness.

He looked up at the sky, and threw his arms in the air as if wondering ‘why him’, then exhaled loudly before turning away. He never said one more thing to me as he entered the house, letting me stand there with a smug look of victory on my face.

Lesson over.   

 

 

Jarak ~  I winced as I grazed my fingertips over the wound in my forehead. I never saw what hit me, but whatever it was, left a nasty gash. I groaned. None of that mattered now. She was gone.

Guilt consumed me. I hadn’t protected her. I pulled my hand away staring at the sticky red liquid that covered my fingers from the blood that still seeped from the wound.

I leaned back against the wall of Es’s room. I hated that I couldn’t control my emotions for her better. With her gone, I hated myself even more. I didn’t protect her, and it killed me.

 

 

Ian ~ Every time I saw her, my heart still raced. I couldn’t let her or anyone I knew about how I’d dreamed of her, even before meeting her. It killed me every time I saw her with my brother, but she was probably better off with him anyway. I shook my head trying to clear my thoughts. My dreams made me feel as if I would find love, but now I just think the universe teased me. Things I saw in them couldn’t possibly happen now that she was with Jarak. My heart ached for me to touch her as I once had in my dreams.

I looked away. It was too painful. I opened my cell phone and pretended to dial Jarak’s number. There was no way I would tell him that I found her. Not yet. I wanted some time alone with her before I had to give her back to him.

 

~Blurb ~ 

 

With a death starts a new beginning…

 

Eighteen-year-old Esmerelda thinks she’s just a normal girl, but all of that changes the day of her mom’s funeral, when a warlock, intent on using her special powers, kidnaps her. Powers she didn’t know existed. Thrown in the middle of a magical battle, Es struggles to learn her magic while fleeing both vampires and warlocks, at the same time, hunting for the witches that can help defeat her adversary. The only problem is that they are dead.

 

Thankfully, she has the help of Jarak—her Guardian—who quickly captures her heart, but she wonders if she can win his? Just when she thinks Jarak is the one for her, Ian appears with daggers drawn to save Es from a vampire attack. Ian is cocky and rude, but there is something magnetic about him—something that attracts her to him. With her heart torn between two men, she faces the foes that are out for her blood.

Can Es do the unthinkable and awaken them from their graves before time runs out?

 

Available now!

All Ebooks only $2.99!

 

Amazon Kindle 

Amazon Paperback

Barnes and Noble Nook

Smashwords

 

It is also listed on Goodreads!
Goodreads

 

 
 
You can find M.R. Polish here:

 

 

 

Terrifying Halloween Teaser

Here’s this week’s terrifying teaser. I’m thrilled to highlight another Central California Coast author, Linda Covella. Here’s a little bit from her  very sweet story, A Jack O’ Lantern for Pop-Pop:

Eddy studied his Jack O’Lantern. Something wasn’t right. Something was missing.

He searched the house and found Pop-Pop lying on the living room recliner—upside down. “It’s good for the circulation,” Pop-Pop said.

His chin looked like his forehead. His mouth looked like a Cyclops’ eyeball. His eyes and eyebrows looked like two mouths with bristly beards. Poking out of each ear was a wiry tuft of hair.

That was it! That was what Eddy’s Jack O’Lantern needed.

Read the rest here!

Have you carved your pumpkin yet?

Teaser Tuesday: City of Thieves by David Benioff

I’m working on telling the story of my father’s WW II experience. It’s a saga really that covers two generations and will be three books when completed. I’m going to tell the story two ways. One will be a memoir. The other will be a fictional account of the story. Because I’m writing a war story about an 18 yr old boy who becomes a man during wartime, I’m reading great examples of similar historical fiction. CITY OF THIEVES by David Benioff is a fabulous read for anyone who is interested in just such a story. Because of the protagonist’s age, the book could be classified as YA. But it’s really for a very broad audience. David Benioff is a great writer and has a great gift for detail. He has also written screenplays. I noticed not too long ago that he writes for The Game of Thrones series out on HBO. I love the series. Anyway, here is an excerpt from CITY OF THIEVES that took my breath away. Enjoy!

Here’s a little description from the back of the book: “Instead of being executed, Lev and Kolya are given a shot at saving their own lives by complying with an outrageous directive: secure a dozen eggs for a powerful Soviet colonel to use in his daughter’s wedding cake.” Kolya loves to quote what he says is a very famous novel. That is what he is doing here:

Kolya cleared his throat and switched to his declamatory tone.

“Talent must be a fanatical mistress. She’s beautiful; when you’re with her, people watch you, they notice. But she bangs on your door at odd hours, and she disappears for long stretches, and she has no patience for the rest of your existence: your wife, your children, your friends. She is the most thrilling evening of your week, but some day she will leave you for good. One night, after she’s been gone for years, you will see her on the arm of a younger man, and she will pretend not to recognize you.” 

Happy May Day! Excerpt from TRANSFER STUDENT, an alien romance

It’s May Day and that used to mean dancing around Maypoles and men leaving flowers at the door of the woman they loved after bathing for the first time in, achem, months. Ah, the good ol’ days. May 1st is all about romance. So I want to find out what makes your May Day red hot romance reads?

HERE’S AN EXCERPT FROM TRANSFER STUDENT, an alien romance:

Her lips are so beautiful. I can’t take it anymore. My peds find the bottom of the lake and I steady myself. I wrap my arms around her warm middle and pull her toward me. I lean in closer, expecting her to tell me no or to push me away, and when she doesn’t, I peck her beautiful, soft lips. The Rhoe in me wants to peck her again. The Ashley in me hesitates.

Tiffany’s red, veiny eyes find mine. I wrap my arms tighter around her smooth skin and we collapse onto each other in one long hug. Her body shakes like she can’t breathe properly. Like she can’t exhale. Her wet skin glimmers. It’s my first peck ever––not counting the dare pecks Tanine and I had at Yuke’s birthday party last ray–– and it’s starjumping-good.

Tiffany’s eyes go wide. “Ashley… what’s, going on?”

Tiffany wipes her mouth off with her hand. I reach out to hold it, as I’ve seen boyfriends do with girlfriends at school. When Tiffany places her hand in mine, I decide I’m ready. I’m ready to tell her that I’m not Ashley at all. That I’m Rhoe, I’m a boy, and that she’s beautiful. I stroke her back and take a deep breath, noticing the way the planet seems to be increasing its pull on me. Like it wants to keep me here.

TRANSFER STUDENT is available on Smashwords | Amazon | Barnes & Noble

April went by so fast. I can’t believe it’s May. Later today, my first newsletter goes out. Each month I’m sending my blog subscribers freebies and exclusive content not available anywhere else. YAY! This month there’s a little TRANSFER STUDENT surprise, because nothing says MAY DAY like an alien romance :)

What are your plans this May Day?

YA Indie Carnival: A 4/20 excerpt from Transfer Student

Dude! Today at the carnival we’re posting 4/20 excerpts. Here’s one from TRANSFER STUDENT, an intergalactic tale of beauty and the geek. Here we meet Ashley, a surfer from Beverly Hills who’s always held a grudge against the yellow stars she never learned how to draw in kindergarten. While on The Field Trip from Hell to the Griffith Observatory, Ashley realizes the person she’s allowed herself to become and wants to make a change, but doesn’t know how. Ashley’s whole life will change in ways she never imagined…

My teacher, Miss Carmicheal, thinks today’s a big deal because this yellow-star mecca has been closed for five years.

“Gather around the obelisk!” Miss C. says, clapping her hands. The class swarms in the creepy shadow of the statue, a black sword slicing the popular kids from the rest.

Six astronomer statues stand in a circle with their backs to each other and look down on my friends and me like all brainiacs do. The statues’ dead-eyed gaze melts my manicured, blow-dried heart. I’m just as trapped, just as lame as them.

The class clip-clops around me.

“Let’s ditch these losers and blaze.” Tiffany puts a couple fingers to her mouth and takes a phantom toke of an invisible joint.

I collect friends. Get high when I can. Drink to get drunk. Do whatever to stay on top. I wear the right clothes, the right make-up. Hook up with the right guys. I’m a fake. A yellow star. But nobody knows. Nobody, but me.

Tiff tugs my arm and points to a hill with a view of the city. “Come on,” she says.

Normally, I’d be right with Tiff, wanting to flee a gum-chewing, screaming crowd of yellow-star drawers. But I don’t now. I’m not even sure why, exactly. “Let’s wait a while,” I say, shrugging Tiff off, knowing she won’t go without me. 

I walk in a circle around the obelisk and read the names of the astronomers sculpted in stone: Hipparchus of Rhodes [190-120 B.C.], Nicolaus Copernicus [1473-1543], (Johannes) Kepler [1571-1630], Galileo (Galilei) [1564-1642], Sir Isaac Newton [1642-1727], and William Herschel [1738-1822].

I wonder if people got high in 190 B.C.

“Whatever,” Tiffany says with a sideways glance, like I robbed her of something. “This is beyond boring.” 

I examine the brainiacs’ chiseled faces and stare into the eyes of Galileo. His stare over the LA basin draws me in. I take a step closer to his statue. What I read as trapped before fascinates me now. The power of answering the questions of a lifetime.  

“Ash, come on.” Tiffany puts her hand on the door to the entrance of the observatory. I almost take out a few yellow-star drawers when I finally open the heavy bronze door and step inside. I’m not used to the end of the line, but from my spot here, the clunky metal monstrosity of a telescope casts a kind of spell over me.

I wring my hands.

“Let’s go,” Tiffany whispers.

I fix my gaze on the telescope.

“Come on! Miss C.’s clueless,” Tiffany whispers even quieter. She tugs on my elbow and eyes the door we came in.

Blazing, getting high, used to sound so much more exciting than being straight or sober… myself. Someone I don’t even know how to be anymore.

“I want to look through the telescope,” I say.

“It’s daytime. What are you gonna see through that stupid telescope?” Tiffany says, rolling her eyes.

“I want to see what the brainiacs saw,” I say.

“What?”

“The astronomers, the ones carved in the stone,” I say.

“You sure you’re not stoned?” Tiff says.

“Just. Chill,” I say.

“I can’t chill when my BFF takes a tragic turn toward the lame.” Tiffany nods to a group of smiling girls at the front of the line.

“Maybe this will be golden,” I say, knowing the irreversible damage a cross into geekdom will do to my carefully crafted reputation. “Don’t judge me.”

Tiffany scoots to the front of the line, taking cuts where she can, smiling at the people behind her like a recently crowned homecoming queen.

Tiffany & Co. snake their way around the hall and out the observatory doors.

The line goes so slow it feels like I’m getting farther and farther behind. I shift my feet and lean up against the wall. A poster hanging there kills the boredom––the moon has mountains, craters and seas that aren’t really seas. Some named Tranquility, Clouds, and Serenity. Others named Storms, Cold, and Crises.

I’m like the moon. 

To celebrate TRANSFER STUDENT on SMASHWORDS I’m giving away one signed paperback. All you need to do is tweet:

I want to win a signed paperback of TRANSFER STUDENT! “spell-binding” “intergalactic tale of beauty & the geek” http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/152382

Every tweet is an entry, more tweets=more entries! Good luck and thanks for helping to spread the word. Now readers can download & sample TRANSFER STUDENT in any format! Squueeee:)

Check out the other awesome 4/20 posts by the carnis this week! Thanks for stopping by:)

1. Laura A. H. Elliott author of Winnemucca & 13 on Halloween, Book 1 in the Teen Halloween Series 2. Bryna Butler, author Midnight Guardian series
3. Heather Self 4. T. R. Graves, Author of The Warrior Series
5. Suzy Turner, author of The Raven Saga 6. Cheri Schmidt, author of the Fateful Trilogy
7. Rachel Coles, author of Into The Ruins, geek mom blog 8. K. C. Blake, author of Vampires Rule and Crushed
9. Patti Larsen, The Hunted series and The Hayle Coven series 10. Amy Maurer Jones, Author of The Soul Quest Trilogy
11. Dani Snell’s Refracted Light Reviews 12. Fisher Amelie, author of The Understorey
13. M. Leighton, Blood Like Poison Series, Madly, The Reaping 14. Cidney Swanson, author of Rippler
15. Gwenn Wright, author of Filter 16. Melissa Pearl, Author of The Time Spirit Trilogy
17. Heather M. White, author of The Destiny Saga 18. Courtney Cole Writes
19. Liz Long | Just another writer on the loose. 20. Ella James

YA INDIE CARNIVAL : A SPRING BREAK ENCHANTED ROAD TRIP

Yes, SPRING BREAK usually means sun & fun. But some teens aren’t that lucky. Winnemucca, a small-town fairy tale, opens with the beginning of Virginia Mae’s enchanted road trip to her true self. It’s SPRING BREAK and Ginny takes a walk to the prison outside of town where she awakens to her own intuition. She listens to it for the very first time and her intuition will take her to very unexpected places. Imagine you’re walking on the side of a desolate desert highway in the heart of central California, doubting your future. With nowhere to go. Every step seems to ask you questions you don’t want to hear. While most kids hit the beach, Ginny hits the asphalt.

When fear’s as blind as love, how far would you go to find your own happily ever after? One mistake will change Ginny’s life forever. One answer will set her free. Once upon a time Ginny’s road blood ripened, the day she got wise to love.

EXCERPT:

An almond orchard’s branches tangled against the tie-dyed sky. Once upon a time, when I was a little girl, I played in the orchard next to our house and turned its creature-like trees into royal knights. Back then, when I dreamed of my Prince Charming, he built owl houses to help control pests, brought me persimmon presents, and knew the best secret hiding places and how to surprise me. I never dreamed of a fairy godmother though. Not one time. Fairy godmothers don’t visit desert princesses, especially ones who fall for uncharming princes. They prefer wiser girls who live in kingdoms with rolling green hillsides, and the opportunity for their ball-gown-wearing-shoe-losing daughters to dance and fall in love.

One foot in front of the other.

How could I escape my happily ever after gone-bad?

“No idea,” I said, fanning the fingers on my engaged hand, flicking them. One. Two. Three weeks until the wedding.

Bobby-approved friends? Bobby-approved food? Bobby-approved clothes?

The dusty truth seeped in with every step and made me shiver. My whole life was managed––first by my parents, then by my fiancé Bobby, even by my idiot ex-boss Charlie. I didn’t need my feet chiming in. I stopped walking. Fear’s as blind as love. But an asphalt heat rose through my rubber soles and seared my skin. The ripening made me move. Again. So I dug in my heels, did a one-eighty and headed for home, double-time, to make my date, the date, with Bobby. But my know-it all feet spun me back around. I covered my ears to drown out their trouble-making questions, but all I heard were my own.

What happened to Bobby and me? Why was I listening to my feet? Had I lost my mind?

A dirt devil twisted over a fallow field in the tired sun and spun my thoughts backwards to the second in Tar Canyon when Bobby’s eyes met mine and I knew only death would separate us. My Big, Fat, Lie-of-a-Life churned in my gut like the dirt devil. I doubled over, more alone than ever before, and I tied myself into a knot so tight I could hardly breathe. I’d been wrong about Bobby. Wrong about a lot of things.

When I caught my breath and lifted my head, the sun ricocheted into my eyes. Devil’s Rope twisted around the top of the chain-link fences that secured Avenal State Prison. I had no idea why my feet marched me there. It didn’t look like the kind of place a practically married, straight-A student would find the answers her feet demanded. But the ripening liked to surprise me.

I gripped the steel bars of the roadside prison sign and dangled underneath, swinging my feet, like I used to do once upon a time on the monkey bars. Somewhere between dangles, I stopped being me. Through silver links, in between long buildings with long windows, my eyes settled on what they’d only seen from afar, through the windows of Daddy’s car. Orange jumpsuits walking the yard. Some nights I’d walk like that–convict-style, in circles in my room before bed.

My stretched-out arms ached under the weight of my heart, hanging heavy in my chest. I swayed my feet from side-to-side, imagining our break-up. Saying the words that made me tremble, I can’t marry you. Saying the words that made me tremble more, I do. I’d walk down the aisle toward Bobby at The First Baptist Church of Avenal, where I’d been baptized as a baby by his father, and make the biggest mistake of my life in front of the entire congregation, everyone I’ve ever known. And my gut tensed like it does in the split-second before a person’s about to do the wrong thing.

A convict paused inside the chain-link with his hands on his hips. I let go of the prison sign, dropped to my feet and stood ramrod straight, as different from the wimpy oats as possible. We stared at each other. Him in his prison. Me in mine. We both knew what kept us walking in circles.

Standing there all eyeball-to-eyeball I felt closer to the convict, heck, the whole Errant Brotherhood than I did to anyone. It wasn’t in our nature to be free. Staring down that wimpy fact for the very first time gave me a clarity. The kind that takes hold when a person peels back their lies.

When the convict slipped back into the circular crowd, I grabbed a handful of San Joaquin soil and swirled the fingers of my free hand in the little mound of dirt in my palm. I touched my soil-stained fingers to my heart and became a Child of The Road. My hair let loose in the same sundowner breeze that caressed every inch of my skin and every people-pleasing part of me blew toward The Sierras and up over The Great Divide. Some take to the road to tame a squirrelly nature, or take to it as a tonic, but for me the ripening was more than a simple call to the road.

Which way? Left? Or, right?

I held tight to my dirt. Sweat beaded up under my bangs. I eyed Highway 33 in both directions. To the left was home––Bobby’s enchanting smile should be enough. But I’d never find my answers as Mrs. Bobby Jennings. To the right, God only knew. There was no guarantee I’d find my answers on the road. The wild oats bowed to the left. I turned right. Into the wind. Tiny rocks worked into burst blisters under the plastic between my toes. Quail flushed out of the pistachio orchard beside me.

A police siren wailed, coming up from behind. Uncle Earl slowed his patrol car to a creep and yelled over the siren before he switched it off. “Virginia Mae? Where in the hell are you going?”

“Didn’t know walking’s a crime Earl,” I said, my eyes fixed on the white line under my feet.

“That’s Uncle Earl, Virginia Mae…and look at me when I’m talking to you…”

But I didn’t hear the rest of what Earl said because the white line brought me back home in my mind to when the horrible-wonderful ripening first buzzed through me after school. I had pulled my bangs back and stroked my next-to-invisible lashes with brown-black mascara when my feet twitched, unsteadying my hand. A prickly heat tickled my toes and crawled up my thighs. It made me move when I most wanted to sit still. So I bunched my white sundress up, unhitched my strapless, boob-crushing, employee-discounted leopard bra and scooted out of its matching thong. I wadded up my sex-wear and buried that perfumed ball of lace and silk in my wastebasket between unwrapped Slimfast pills, crushed wedding-present boxes and crinkled Snickers wrappers.

My heart leapfrogged me back to the road when a gust of wind just about blew the whistle on my commando-self, right in front of Earl. I tripped on some weeds at the side of the highway as I patted down every inch of my churned up skirt, my face hotter than the asphalt under my feet.

“Your momma called two hours ago,” Earl said, leaning out of his patrol car, his face as red as the pomegranates Momma grew in the backyard. “Bobby took you for dead.”

I’d done the worst thing possible by standing Bobby up. Because doing that one true thing meant the rest of the truth wasn’t far behind. I’d have to tell Bobby I didn’t love him and that buzzed the heebie-jeebies through me. The kind I’d get when I’d rush to kill a black widow before it killed me. I had no idea what Bobby would do when I told him. I had no idea what he was capable of. But, in the end, nothing would frighten me more than myself.

Don’t forget to have your own fun this SPRING BREAK at the YA SCAVENGER HUNT this weekend!

Thanks for stopping by! Check out what FABULOUS tales of SPRING BREAK these amazing carnis have to tell:

1. Laura A. H. Elliott author of Winnemucca & 13 on Halloween, Book 1 in the Teen Halloween Series 2. Bryna Butler, author Midnight Guardian series
3. Heather Self 4. T. R. Graves, Author of The Warrior Series
5. Suzy Turner, author of The Raven Saga 6. Cheri Schmidt, author of the Fateful Trilogy
7. Rachel Coles, author of Into The Ruins, geek mom blog 8. K. C. Blake, author of Vampires Rule and Crushed
9. Patti Larsen, The Hunted series and The Hayle Coven series 10. Amy Maurer Jones, Author of The Soul Quest Trilogy
11. Dani Snell’s Refracted Light Reviews 12. Fisher Amelie, author of The Understorey / Callum & Harper
13. M. Leighton, Blood Like Poison Series, Madly, The Reaping 14. Kimberly Kinrade, Bits of You & Pieces of Me, Forbidden Mind
15. Madeline Smoot, Missing, Summer Shorts, and The Girls 16. Cidney Swanson, author of Rippler
17. Gwenn Wright, author of Filter 18. TG Ayer
19. Melissa Pearl, Author of The Time Spirit Trilogy 20. Heather M. White, author of The Destiny Saga
21. Roots in Myth, PJ Hoover 22. Courtney Cole Writes

YA INDIE CARNIVAL: THE LUCK O’ THE IRISH

TODAY THE TRANSFER STUDENT BLOG TOUR VISITS THE AMAZING A.O BIBLIOSPHERE & read his wonderful review here!

Check out his blog for today’s EBOOK/SWAG GIVEAWAY! TODAY’S EBOOK WINNERS ANNOUNCED 12 PM PACIFIC!

Now ON TO THE CARNIVAL!!!!

I’m Irish. Who isn’t on St. Patty’s day? But I’m so Irish that my protestant Irish mother made me wear ORANGE to school on St. Patty’s Day. In Chicago. Yes…it scarred me for life. Maybe that’s why I became a writer. And maybe it’s why I write about luck. A LOT. It’s funny how these weekly questions have helped me sort out patterns in my writing. All us carnis randomly suggest the post topics every week so I think it’s funny that last week’s post topic on the season we write and this week’s have evoked such epiphanies. Or maybe it’s just the fact that I’m carb-deprived, due to diet. Continue reading

YA INDIE CARNIVAL: SEASONS | SOME LIKE IT HOT

Hey y’all welcome to this week of the YA INDIE CARNIVAL! Can I just say how AMAZING my fellow carnis are? I feel so lucky to be able to read all of their inspirational posts! SQUUUEEEE! Today’s topic kind of made me go…what??? I mean, do I tend to write a season? Of course not. I don’t just write one season. FAGETABOUTIT. But then I skimmed my books and I noticed a pattern.

I love the HEAT. Maybe it’s because I grew up in Chicago. Maybe it’s because I raised my family in LA. I don’t know the reason why. But when you open the pages of my books, you will sweat! Ah, wait a minute. Maybe that came out wrong. Yeah, there’s lots of that stuff in my novels too, but back to weather…hee-hee.

Here’s a hot scene from WINNEMUCCA:

But I didn’t hear the rest of what Earl said because the white line brought me back home in my mind to when the horrible-wonderful ripening first buzzed through me after school. I had pulled my bangs back and stroked my next-to-invisible lashes with brown-black mascara when my feet twitched, unsteadying my hand. A prickly heat tickled my toes and crawled up my thighs. It made me move when I most wanted to sit still. So I bunched my white sundress up, unhitched my strapless, boob-crushing, employee-discounted leopard bra and scooted out of its matching thong. I wadded up my sex-wear and buried that perfumed ball of lace and silk in my wastebasket between unwrapped Slimfast pills, crushed wedding-present boxes and crinkled Snickers wrappers.

My heart leapfrogged me back to the road when a gust of wind just about blew the whistle on my commando-self, right in front of Earl. I tripped on some weeds at the side of the highway as I patted down every inch of my churned up skirt, my face hotter than the asphalt under my feet.

“Your momma called two hours ago,” Earl said, leaning out of his patrol car, his face as red as the pomegranates Momma grew in the backyard. “Bobby took you for dead.”

I’d done the worst thing possible by standing Bobby up. Because doing that one true thing meant the rest of the truth wasn’t far behind. I’d have to tell Bobby I didn’t love him and that buzzed the heebie-jeebies through me. The kind I’d get when I’d rush to kill a black widow before it killed me. I had no idea what Bobby would do when I told him. I had no idea what he was capable of. But, in the end, nothing would frighten me more than myself. 

Here’s a hot scene from 13 ON HALLOWEEN

I grip the coconut tighter, hoping it will bring me some kind of luck. But I never really heard of lucky coconuts. I reach into my back pocket. And when I don’t have pockets, since I’m wearing the same linen dress as the last time, I can’t catch my breath. The message and the rabbit’s foot are gone. They didn’t AP with me. Duh, neither did my clothes. Continue reading