Tag Archives: book review

who’s excited… ??? #RRBC

Block Party 2016 banner

the month is almost over, the party is winding down, but that will never stop us, we writers, bloggers; the great wordage crowd…

and tomorrow….. we get to sit in Jazz as he interviews Marin… he is a little freaked out, having never met a princess before, especially not one with an out of control electrical gift… lol… since the party bus stopped here (my author site) earlier in the month, Marin’s interview will be over on my book site finderskeepersseries.com … hope to see y’all there…

and for today’s fun and games, we have three stops to keep the party going… wooo who… remember to leave a comment at each stop…

Maretha Botha

DAILY GIVEAWAYS: 

(3) Set of 3 black and white paperbacks of “FAUNA PARK TALES”;

??? Brenda Taylor ???

DAILY GIVEAWAYS: 

  • (1) $10 Amazon Gift Card,
  • (1) ebook copy of a “HIGHLAND PEARL,” and an ebook copy of a “HIGHLAND RUBY”;

 Joy Nwosu Lo-Bamijoko

DAILY GIVEAWAYS: 

  • (1) $10 Amazon Gift Card,
  • (1) $10 ITunes Gift Card, (
  • 1) $10 Starbuck’s Gift Card,
  • (2) Ebook copies of “LEGEND OF THE WALKING DEAD”;

It looks like Brenda Taylor’s link is missing… guess that means there are only two stops today, but wow… they both look great… go check them out… and I will see y’all tomorrow… happy wordage, tracey

Block Party continues #RRBC

Blog Party 1

one week down, and the fun is just getting started… wooo who… check out today’s blog stops…

Jinlobify/Joy Nwosu Lo-Bamijoko

DAILY GIVEAWAY: 

(1) $10 Amazon Gift Card;

Schraders Historical Fiction/Helena P. Schrader

DAILY GIVEAWAY:

(1) E-copy of “ENVOY OF JERUSALEM”

head over and leave a comment on their sites… and be entered to win some great prizes…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Pre-Release… Get your copy for FREE

Southern Discoveries_ebook (1)

After two nights in a row, staying up to the wee hours of the morning, and growling at my computer as I fought to figure out how to format Southern Discoveries into an ebook, the pain, sweet, and swearing finally paid off…. muhahaahahahahaha…. I did it… take that MS….

Okay, so thanks to Pronoun.com it was pretty easy… the difficult part had more to do with my uncooperative brain than my formatting task…

Sooooooo….. about three in the morning last night, I looked at my screen and realized I was ready to hit the publish button… the ebook version was ready to go… now I only had to wait for the woman that created my book covers to finish with the spine and back cover so that I could set up the paperback format on createspace.com … and this left me with an opportunity that I hadn’t thought of before…

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For the next week, I am offering FREE ecopies to anyone willing to leave a review… (Reviews really are the devil to get, but oh so important) … just drop me a line and I will make sure that you get your copy … even if it means I have to swear at my computer some more… 😛 … I already have the Mobi & Epub versions, and will have the PDF version later today…

And truthfully, it would be an enormous help if y’all could stop in at amazon, goodreads, or one of the other retailers, blogs, etc and drop a line or two one what you thought of Southern Discoveries… as the pre-order links go up, I will post them so that you know where to find the book in order to give a review, or you can wait until after it is out, and easy to find…

Most books are set up for pre-order months before the release date, but Southern Discoveries grew a mind of its own and took longer than I expected to finish… (and I might be a bit impatient) But its all good… because you guys get it now, and not months from now…. wooo whooo…

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and lastly, I decided to set up a newsletter… you can get Finder’s Keepers & Skymann (coming soon) series info delivered to your email… this email list will hopefully allow me to offer more pre-releases, monthly updates, and other book related goodies… just head HERE and leave your info…

I didn’t think I would need an email list, not when I could just use Facebook, Twitter, this blog, etc. to send out updates… but I’ve found that there are certain sites that ask you to use something along the lines of MailChimp …. sooo take a moment and sign up to get your Newsletter

happy wordage everyone, Tracey

#EggcerptExchange – P.J. MacLayne

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Oh yeah… hold the presses….

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along with P.J.’s guest post, I had the chance to read her novel… you can find my thoughts at the end of this post, as well as on Amazon and Goodreads… Reviews… we have to have them… give me, give me… give me the reviews… muhahahaha

Character interview with Tasha Roeper, the main character of Wolves’ Knight

What is your job?

I am currently contracted with Lapahie Enterprises to provide assistance with getting their physical security beefed up. I’m helping to train the students at the school sponsored by Lapahie in basic security skills, and I sometimes provide bodyguard services to the CEO, Dot Lapahie. My training with both my pack, the Fairwoods, and the Radferd pack of security specialists has given me a unique set of skills that I’ll be able to use to enhance the reputation of the Fairwood pack in the future.

Where is your favorite place to visit?

I haven’t travelled much, and my bucket list of places to go is really small. I’d like to make it out the redwoods of California some day, and visit the Grand Canyon. I really enjoyed the year and a half I spent in Maine training with the Radferds, but it sure was nice to come home. I haven’t found anything yet to match the rolling hills of Pennsylvania, especially in the fall when the trees are turning colors.

What is your worst fear or nightmare?

My worst fear is that I’ll somehow let the pack down. I’m not your typical pack female, and if I do something wrong, I can bring shame to the pack and make Gavin, my pack leader, look bad. I don’t have the strength or size that the males have, so I have to depend on my wits, training and skills in a battle. I know that one day they won’t be enough. But when I run into that opponent I can’t beat, I hope I’ll do some major dame before I die.

What would you do if you won the lottery?

What’s the line? You can’t win if you don’t play? Okay, I’ve bought a scratch off ticket or two in my time, but the most I’ve ever won is $5. I think I used that to fill the tank of my motorcycle. If I ever had a lot of money, I’d make that trip to California. And I think I’d donate some of it to a veteran’s charity. I’ve had the privilege of fighting alongside quite a few men and women who served in the military, and although the pack takes care of its own, there are a lot of vets out there that could use some extra help.

On the lighter side-what’s your favorite type of pet?

I’m a wolf-shifter. I don’t do pets. Can’t you just imagine it, some sweet little kitten hanging around the house, being freaked out every time I shifted into my wolf form? I’m a meat eater, and I’m sure a pet would be able to sense that. Maybe I could get away with a goldfish or something, but it’s never been something I’ve ever considered.

 

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Wolves’ Knight Blurb:

 

Tasha Roeper knows what it means to protect your own. So when her friend, Dot Lapahie, CEO of Lapahie Enterprises, suspects that the Free Wolves are under attack, Tasha immediately signs on to lead the investigation and guard Dot.

But Tasha’s not convinced it’s the Free Wolves that are the target. She fears that her own pack—the Fairwood Pack—are the actual quarry and Dot is only a decoy.

The deeper Tasha digs, the more puzzles she uncovers.

Torn between tradition and a changing world, will Tasha risk everything to save a friend—including her own life—when old enemies arise?

Excerpt

“This isn’t much different than getting ready to go on a raid,” Dot said as she strapped on the belt that held her throwing knives.

“In a way; it is,” Tasha told her. “Only instead of going to your target, you’re searching for someone coming to you. Which can be even more nerve-racking.”

“I wish you two could come along.”

I will be, Tasha thought, but not officially.

“Chief agrees with you, but it wouldn’t look right,” Samantha said. She was double-checking Dot’s preparations. “You have to do this on your own.”

“Do you know how many times I bugged Gavin to let me run patrols with the Fairwoods?” Dot adjusted the shoulder harness for the revolver that the arms master had supplied. “And he’d never let me. I can’t believe he caved and agreed to this scheme.”

“I guess he realized how important this is,” Tasha suggested.

“Either that or someone blackmailed him. What do you have on him, Tasha?”

“Me?” Tasha fluttered her eyelashes and attempted to look innocent. “All I had to do was explain how important this is.”

“I’ll force you to tell me later.” Dot turned around slowly. “What am I missing?”

She didn’t look like the CEO of a growing organization any more. Instead, she’d gone back to her roots and looked every inch the warrior. From the combat boots on her feet to the cropped hair tinged with streaks of red, she was prepared for battle. Tasha decided it was a good thing that Gavin wasn’t there to see her. They’d never make it out the door. Nothing was sexier to a male wolf that a female prepared to do battle for her cubs.

“One minor detail.” Samantha reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, round container. “Pink stripes on your cheeks. Then you’ll be ready.”

A small cluster of people waited for Dot when she reported to the staging area for her patrol assignment. As she shook hands with her well-wishers, Tasha used the diversion to slip away. She had her own preparations to make.

 

Purchase links:

http://www.amazon.com/Wolves-Knight-Free-Book-ebook/dp/B0199BC6YI/

https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/wolves-knight

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/wolves-knight-pj-maclayne/1123127673

https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/id1066865102

pj

Author Bio: Born and raised among the rolling hills of western Pennsylvania, P.J. MacLayne still finds inspiration for her books in that landscape. She is a computer geek by day and a writer by night who currently lives in the shadow of the Rocky Mountains. When she’s not in front of a computer screen, she might be found exploring the back roads of the nearby national forests and parks. In addition to the Free Wolves’ stories, she is also the author of the Oak Grove mystery series. P.J. MacLayne can be reached on: Facebook https://facebook.com/pjmaclayne

Twitter https://twitter.com/pjmaclayne

Google + https://plus.google.com/u/0/+PJMacLayne/posts

Amazon http://www.amazon.com/P.J.-MacLayne/e/B00HVE8WZI

And here are my thoughts….

this novel was between a 3 and a 4 for me, but definitely closer to a 4… it was cute, well paced and dropped enough debits about Mark (Elder Fennar/may be spelling wrong) for me to be rooting for Tasha to hook up with him, way before I actually knew if he was actually in the running… (nothing explicit for those faint of heart)

the beginning is a little rough, well written but I turned back multiple times to see if I had missed a prologue or something… but after the first few paragraphs the story takes off… knowing that I have the most trouble writing my own first page, I continued and enjoyed the read…

 

 

 

 

Check out Vivian Lane

Vivian Lane was kind enough to stop by and answer a few author interview questions for us… so sit back and learn a little more about Vivian… and get ready for Protector, out the first of the year…

1. Do you have a favorite book baby?
A future Agent Seven book that hasn’t been released, yet. Writing it got me through some tough times. When nothing else was coming to me, I could work on that.
2. Which series flows so much easier that you find yourself telling the voices that they must give the other series some air time?
Well, the first drafts of several Children of Ossiria stories have been written a long time and publishing them in 2016 is my priority.
3.Do you have any writing quirks that you are willing to share? (like I have a tendency to write long hand then move to the computer, just something that frees your mind to think and connect the dots)
I need quiet to write. The quiet hum of my computer or the AC is fine, but anything else is totally distracting, which means much of my writing has happened in the middle of the night. I’ve lived more vampire hours as a writer than not!
4. Do you enjoy creating anything other than your word babies?
I recently took up drawing/sketching. I post finished projects on Facebook. I’ve tried out most any craft over the years. I can crochet and cross stitch. I don’t have a sewing machine anymore, but I used to sew. I’ve painted simple projects in the past. Just about anything you can pick up from a Michael’s store, I’ve probably tried it. I like working with my hands.
5. Where does your love of supernatural/paranormal/fantasy come from? Or is it something that has always been with you?
Always, as far back as I can remember. Sci-fi, fantasy, superheroes, all that stuff. My parents were geeks.
6. You have been drafted to compete in a triathlon, with the option to ask one of your characters to take your place. Which of them would step up, and who would run screaming? Which one would you ask first, and why?
Agent Seven, Della, would probably do it if I asked nicely. The vampires can’t because of that whole pesky sunlight issue. Carys, from PROTECTOR, would say no way. She’s not into marathon exercise.
7. What would you suggest to other writers when it comes to participating in a writing community? What are your hard and fast rules?
Communities all vary, so if you join up, observe for a while before jumping in. Helps prevent stepping on any toes. Follow the rules set by the group. Contribute help where you can.
8. Do you have any co-authors? Human or of the four legged variety?
No. And my cat isn’t allowed on my desk. Otherwise, my keyboard would’ve stopped working a long time ago!
9. How do you deal with writer’s doubt?
Talk (whine) to my closest peeps. Give myself a break. Know it’s normal and everyone has it. Distract myself with something fun. Someone with zero doubts is delusional. The best books of all time still get low reviews, so….
10. Late at night, you’re walking down an alley in the worst part of town. What villain, either yours or from someone else’s book, would you hate to run into?
Juliet from STRANGE ALLIES and Nicholae from SAVING CHARLOTTE. My vampire William before PROTECTOR. Any of the Red Court or Black Court vamps from The Dresden Files…..every villain from The Dresden Files, actually.

Book Spotlight:

Title – Protector (Children of Ossiria #1)

Author – Vivian Lane

Genre – Urban Fantasy

Book Blurb:

First in a new series!

Carys Taylor has her life perfectly under control. Equipped with a nice inheritance, she goes where she wants, when she wants, pursuing anything that interests her. So when her old professor asks her to come on a research trip for his thesis, she’s eager to tag along.

Until that ill-fated trip to the South American jungle changes her into a supernatural being. Now she’s sprouting claws and stronger and faster than any human being in existence. The reclusive tribe calls her their Protector – but from what? And why now? Why her?

Carys is pulled into a world she never knew existed. Is she up to the task?

Buy Links – Releasing Jan. 1, 2016. Apple | Barnes and Noble | Amazon | Smashwords | Kobo

Author Biography:

Writer of supernatural badasses.

Vivian Lane is an American author.  Born a Gemini, her interests fall under a myriad of subjects including classical music, American and World History; fantasy books, TV shows, and movies; travel, marine biology, and fashion.

Social Media Links

Blog. Facebook. Twitter. Goodreads.

Promo teaser vampire

Excerpt 1:

Carys, next time someone asks you to go with them to the middle of nowhere, say no.

My old professor asked me to come along on a trip to study native music. He was cataloging the songs of an obscure tribe. I had nothing more important to do, so I said sure. Got all the necessary shots and documents, and we made the long journey down.

Little did I know, it would be a life changing experience.

Our destination was a small village in the heart of the South American jungle. How he ever heard of them, I didn’t know. Took us three days by boat to get there. Our team consisted of the professor, our guide/interpreter, the professor’s assistant who was using this trip as info for his thesis, and me. As a music therapist, I used music to heal people’s souls, so I would be lending my expertise in the emotional resonance of the songs.

Approximately fifty people lived in the village, some of the nicest people I’d ever met, instantly welcoming and glad to share their musical history. My job was recording the performances with the handheld camera. They kept staring at me when they thought I wasn’t looking. At first, I attributed it to them never seeing a fair-skinned woman before, but the stares continued through the week.

That should have been my first clue.

Los Angeles cityscape

Excerpt 2:

A month later, it was my first day out doing something normal—shopping at the mall. Up to now, I’d avoided crowds, doing my grocery shopping when the stores were almost deserted. Walking to my car in the parking garage, my hands were full of bags, and a man walked behind me. At first, I didn’t think of hearing someone behind me, until his footsteps sped up to get close to me. He demanded my purse. I was willing to cooperate since I didn’t want to provoke him. Better my stuff than my life, right? That’s what the police tell you to do. So, I set down the bags, and the guy lunged for my purse.

I can’t tell you how I did what happened next.

Next thing I knew, I had the guy in a choke hold with claws pressed to his neck. Claws! The guy started freaking out, then, begging me not to hurt him. I tightened the hold until he blacked out, then called 911 on my cell phone. The police arrived, took my statement and the mugger, and I went home.

Shaking.

My fingernails turned into claws. That was NOT normal. Both hands? I stared at my left. Yep, both hands. Oh God.

And then the fight moves. What was that? This wasn’t The Matrix. I hadn’t been plugged into a machine for a kung fu download. Had I? What really happened in that village?

 

Rockin’ Book Reviews

I just wanted to share the wonderful interview Lu Ann over at RockinBookReviews.com did for me… she is having a giveaway for Shocking Finds… so head over HERE and check out the pictures and Q&A, followed by her Raffle-copter… This woman rocks peeps, and always has new book info on hand, and lots of giveaways to join in on…

happy wordage, Tracey

PS the giveaway ends on 1-8-2016… enjoy

R&R Karen Chance

Rants and Raves

Pritkin… soooo dreamy… I waited with barely contained impatience for Reap the Wind to be released… I reread the excerpt chapters, and stalked the internet for any tidbits that Karen Chance would drop…

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It was torture… lol… This book in the Cassie Palmer series ended up being too long (according to Chance) and that meant that she had to either edit out or find a break in the story that allowed her to turn one book into two… She decided to go with the two book option, but that meant that we were forced to wait for her to find that break, and then go back into editing mode…

Personally, I am glad that she went with the two book option… there is so much information and potential for future twists and turns packed into Reap the Wind… information that could have been benched and then forgotten… At least if I was in her shoes… I know that when I make chances, I always save the scenes that I cut out, but as I move forward my brain comes up with all these new ways to progress the story… it is really hard for me to find a way to fit those scenes that I loved back into the world I have created…

This isn’t exactly a bad thing, but there are possibilities in Reap the Wind that I, for one, would hate to see lost to the side lines… information about Pritkin, and how he could evolve… not just as Cassie’s friend, but also as a character… I also enjoyed seeing Cassie dropping into scenes already played out in the Dorina Basarab series… even though Cassie still doesn’t know about Dory, I can see the potential for future interaction between the two characters… and lets not forget Mircea…

Mircea’s character could go in so many ways… Chance could build a whole new series with him, she could continue as is and possible have a Pritkin vs Mircea triangle with Cassie being pulled between the two, she could go into a poly relationship type storyline… Hey… I am up for anything, especially if Pritkin gets lots of scene time… lol… did I mention that I love that character… And although Reap the Wind didn’t tie up the issues we have been waiting for answers to, it did wet my appetite for the next novel… Ride the Storm…. so now the wait continues… grrr… man do I hate waiting… how am I supposed to procrastinate my own editing if my favorite authors don’t publish stories faster… hehehe…

okay… enough of that for now… until next month, happy wordage everyone… hopefully I will be ranting and raving about the upcoming Sherlock movie next month… I spotting the poster for the upcoming release… two days only…

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Now this says Jan 1st but my theater said the 5th and 6th… I’m pretty sure… but I may have to miss the theater goodies, and instead watch just the show … I usually buy it on amazon video and watch it that way… I rarely get to go out to the movies with my MS hating the theater seats, but if you guys get out see the special, feel free to rant and rave for us… everyone should love Sherlock… muhahahaha… he is my favorite sociopath!!!

ranting and raving 4th Fridays!!!

Monthly Goods

I have been thinking… blogging is very important to a writer but what do I really have to say to people besides my writing??? So what did I come up with??? Monthly goods, or more accurately, weekly goods… Like the first week of every month I could update the world on book progress…

The second week of every month??? How about Multiple Sclerosis facts from my point of view… I mean, we all have issues and problems that we have to deal with on a daily basis… it is only through exposure that the scary and unknown can be faced… as human beings we have a very long history of lashing out at what we don’t understand… I actually had a woman screaming in my face when i parked in a handicapped parking space… not cool… but when you first look at me, i  look healthy and in the prime of life… HA… after I was near tears and screaming back that she could call my doctor up for my latest MRI (possible foul language involved) she became meek and started explaining all the reasons why her behavior was acceptable…. still not cool… I know that explaining my day to day MS blues might not help with parking lot attacks, but if those I know and those I interact with know what MS is and how it can affect my reactions and health, then hopefully misunderstandings can be avoided… but lets be a little more fun with the topic… lots of facts, and some oops, the MS made me do it stories… (like the time I threw my diet coke in my own face because of an arm twitch…)

Week three??? Lets do art time… I love all things art… and when I need to recharge (aka: give my brain a rest) I put down the evil edits and do something artsey… paint an oil painting, design a bracelet, and I plan to start making my own pendants…. the clay has been bought, and soon the pendants will be created… muhahahaha… not to mention the design book mom picked out for one of my Christmas presents (shhh, don’t tell)

And finally we rap up the month with Random Chat… like ranting and raving about my favorite shows and movies, the local restaurants, and vacation fun… and everything has to be full of pinterest pictures as well as my own pictures…

But that only takes up four days out of every month… that is a lot of days left un-blogged… boooo…. these are the early days of my writing career… which means I have time to put in a few more blogs than the more famous authors… So lets put in a few book reviews when I have read something new (which is my other pass-time) and random daily insanity posts… woo who… for now, happy wordage every one, Tracey Clark

V.L. Locey drops by on her blog tour

One of my Gone Writing Publishing peeps was kind enough to drop by and chat with us… she also wants to introduce us to the steamy life of female pro hockey… oooo… I can’t wait … 😛 enjoy

Fighting the bumps in the writing road…

I’d like to thank Finders Keepers for hosting me today! I love visiting blogs and chatting with folks about my books and the writing process. Most generally, the writing road is a relatively smooth one for me. I don’t usually struggle with writer’s block too often. If anything, my problem is having so many ideas vying to be written at once. It’s like trying to separate the wheat from the chafe at times.

“Yes muse, this idea about a women’s pro hockey team is boffo! The one about the ninja chimpanzees who fight zombies while riding Harley’s may not be exactly what we’re hoping to write, but good effort!”

You always have to speak to your muse politely or they get tiffy and no author wants a tiffy muse.

Occasionally I’ll get slapped with a round of doubt and start comparing myself to other author’s. When I begin to do this, I try to stop myself as quickly as I can. I cannot be J.K. Rowling no matter how much I wish I were. I can only be V.L. Locey, the erotic hockey romance author. If I am writing the best hockey romances that I can, then I need to stop making comparisons. Generally the round of doubt will only last a short while, I’m a pretty upbeat person overall. Hearing from a reader that enjoyed your book is the best way to help pave over the potholes in the writing road!

What do you do to fight off a case of the self-doubts? I’d love to hear all about it in the comments!

Skate hard and love deeply,

V.L. Locey

cleansweep

BOOK INFORMATION

TITLE – Clean Sweep
SERIES – Venom Series
AUTHOR – V.L. Locey
GENRE – Erotic Hockey Romance
PUBLICATION DATE – Sept.26, 2015
LENGTH (Pages/# Words) – 155 pages/57,500
PUBLISHER – Gone Writing Publishing
COVER ARTIST – Reverie Design


 

BOOK SYNOPSIS

Clean Sweep - New CoverFiery, flame-haired Jane Bratkowski is catapulted from a small college town to Philadelphia to become head coach of a new women’s hockey team, The Venom. It’s a life-changing opportunity, a dream come true until – in a cruel twist of fate that could turn into a nightmare – she comes face to face with her ex-husband Tore Ahlberg, the Wildcats’ head of European Scouting.

Suddenly, Jane’s faced with more challenges than she bargained for: Will she let him distract her — and derail her big chance to coach pro hockey? Can she build a team of relatively inexperienced, irrepressible young women into champions? Can she and Tore triumph over the gut-wrenching tragedy that ripped them apart — or will the shocking truth of their passionate past threaten to destroy them once again?


BUY & TBR LINKS

AMAZON KINDLE US
AMAZON KINDLE UK
BARNES & NOBLES NOOK
GOODREADS


 

EXCERPT

It was on the tip of my tongue to ask him how, or why, he remembered so much from our years of wedded bliss. Instead, I marched into the bathroom, Pomeranians in hand, then shut the door on him, his tie, and those damned recollections of a time best left in the past.

I washed my face then set to work on detangling. I accomplished this with snarling expletives aimed at long dead ancestors. The boys were restless. I laid down my hairbrush then snuck over to the door. I couldn`t hear my ex on the other side. I cracked the door just enough to peer through. Tore was standing at the sliding glass door. He still cut a fine figure from the back even though he was now in his early fifties. Wide shoulders, lean waist, long legs. The sun made his straw-colored blonde hair look like spun gold. It was time to stop, Jane. I had thought to ask him to walk the dogs but after that Rumpelstiltskin moment, perhaps a brisk walk would do me good. I closed the door quietly. Ten minutes later I stepped out, face freshly scrubbed, hair beaten into submission, and dogs in dire need.

“I have to get dressed,” I told Tore when he turned from the city to look at me.

“You want me to leave?” I nodded. “We were married, Jane. Unless you have done some alterations, there is nothing I have not seen before.”

I felt a slight flush rushing up behind the freckles on my cheeks. “There have been no alterations. Go wait on the patio. I mean it, Tore. Don`t give me that stupid look. Go.”

“Stupid look? I have a stupid look?” he asked, a definite twinkle in his eye. A sharp comment was resting on my tongue. I swallowed it back to be nice. It was only seven am. Even ex-husbands deserve a small kindness from time to time.


 

AUTHOR BIO

Author Photo - VL LoceyV.L. Locey loves worn jeans, yoga, belly laughs, reading and writing lusty tales, Greek mythology, the New York Rangers, comic books, and coffee. (Not necessarily in that order.) She shares her life with her husband, her daughter, two dogs, two cats, a flock of assorted domestic fowl, and three Jersey steers.

When not writing spicy romances, she enjoys spending her day with her menagerie in the rolling hills of Pennsylvania with a cup of fresh java in hand. She can also be found online on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, and GoodReads.


 

AUTHOR FOLLOW LINKS

Facebook
Twitter
Pinterest
Goodreads
My blog
Tsú


 

GIVEAWAY PRIZES

$20.00 Amazon Gift Card

ENTER THE AUTHORS GIVEAWAY HERE


 

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This Event has been Organized & Hosted by:
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Rebels and Readers Event

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I was so nervous to be volunteering at this years Rebels and Readers Event… soo many readers and authors running around and I didn’t have a clue what to do… I felt like a fish out of water… 😛 thankfully, the feeling of community and acceptance was just as strong there (face to face) as it is online… I even managed to come out of my shell a little.. as a life long lover of living in the shadows being forward usually gives me heartburn…

By volunteering, I got the chance to interact and do a test run of group interaction… now don’t laugh… there are a lot of people that think this type of attitude is silly, or just an act… But I was that girl that got the solo, but didn’t really want it… I loved to sing, but thinking about all those people staring at me … well, I threw up before every concert… lol… being at the Rebels and Readers Event was a lot like that… (No vomit this time) … one of the things I have started doing in order to push my limits is to immediately tell people that I’m shy, that I don’t know what I’m doing, that I’m afraid I will screw up… this help by letting others know that I am not bitchy or stuck up, I just don’t know what to say or do… they gave me a task to concentrate on, and once I started feeling comfortable, I allowed my inner jokester to come out (the one that usually only comes out to play when I’m around friends and family) the other thing I have been doing to help myself become more outgoing??? I hum or sing to myself whenever the action slows down and I don’t have a task to focus on… silly, but it works for me … singing in front of people used to instill horrible fear, even more than speaking… by using my voice in this small way, I keep myself from hiding in those welcoming shadows…

Check out the Rebels and Readers’s BLOG for all kinds of book goodies

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The Event seemed to go really well… the authors voiced a lot of thanks to Amy and Tanya (Rebel and Readers Queens!!!) There were dozens of give-a-ways and raffle games… The crowd packed in from 10am-2pm on both Saturday and Sunday, enjoying all the free swag and numerous books to purchase… The above picture is from Sunday, which contain about half as many people… double the number of people you see in the picture and you still can’t imagine how packed it was… lol… walking through the room was a challenge but worth suffering the overwhelming body heat… Rock on Authors…

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Why the heck am I wearing a sweater, you ask??? it was under 40 degrees outside and the air conditioning was on high in the event areas to combat the number of people enjoying all the lovely books… Casey L. Bond took pity on me as I shivered in my short sleeved shirt (early in the event before the crowd brought in the body head) She is a lovely person, not to mention a awesome author… you guys should definitely check out her books… And how cute it is that sweater… I loved it, and need one of my own… lol… The sweater promotes the lovely Cambria Herber’s Nerd Series… Another wonderful author… she has so many must read books, as well as information (on her blog/follow the link) for authors like me that feel like they are drowning in the Promotional aspect of being a writer…

I am glad I got to volunteer this year… It gave me a chance to watch the authors in actions and take notes on what I should do when I become one of their number… Shocking Finds  will hopefully have a table to display itself next year… now I need to get cracking on finishing the next book… Seriously, the authors and readers were great… I can’t wait for next year…

Don’t for get the contest to win a free ebook copy of Shocking Finds (A Finder’s Keepers Novel) ends tomorrow at 10am… I thought the contest ended at noon, but sorry guys, it ends a little earlier than that… just go to CD Hersh’s Blog and leave a comment on Shocking Finds Friday Feature… Woo who…

Happy Wordage, Tracey

Blog Tour Wrapup

I want to thank everyone once again for helping with Shocking Finds Blog Tour… you were all great… the writing community is by far a supportive and loving group, full of inspiration and that added push that we all need from time to time…

The final Blogger for this Tour, Dante Craddock, did a great job on the Author interview… visit this Blog to read a few more probing questions, then stick around and check out the site… Dante Craddock’s site is full of Interviews and Spotlights… as well as a bunch of other goodies… You can also check out some of Dante’s work… woo who, wordage 😛

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Marin Yarthine had trouble containing a childish giggle or two. She had managed to locate an Orion Starbrary Indigo Violet Aura Lemurian Seed Quartz Crystal for her boss. The longest, oddest name for a rock, but Anton had been very specific. Besides, she was the best Finder at Finder’s Keepers, who better to go on this mission.

Okay… so her job wasn’t actually to go out in the field and complete Finder’s missions. Finds were completed by a different department. Marin knew that she was nothing more than a high paid researcher. She could take a piece of cloth and tell you where it had been, what had been near it, who had touched it, and more importantly, she could visualize where any related objects might be located.

Yesterday, Anton handed Marin an old textbook written in something that looked like Latin, and asked her to Find a rare crystal for his collection. The words on the book cover had been meaningless to her, but once Marin had held the fragile text in her hands, she had known exactly where to go.

Marin had wanted to complete just one mission on her own. She had been prepared to search the dank and cold Kentucky cave systems, not stopping until she had her Find. It was a simple case, with no danger involved. She would never attempt the kidnaping cases, or one of the Finds involving a murder weapon.

Marin had been surprised to feel the newest store in the area, Crystal Sights, pulling at her Finder’s gift. Anton had sworn up and down that the crystal would be hard to locate. Aisle six – rare gems and crystals—was not her idea of difficult. In and out and no one had gotten hurt.

Her aunt, Lindal, refused to even allow her to look at the building as they drove past, and now Marin had been inside and explored.

Marin had completed her first solo Finder’s mission. She had located exactly what Anton needed and managed to purchase a crystal of her very own. Not that she believed in crystals and magic. Her aunt had explained how her own ability, to locate the lost or stolen, was the closest thing to real magic left in the world. If Lindal knew that Marin had purchased one of the crystals for herself, her aunt would lose her ever lovin’ mind.

For once in her life, Marin didn’t care. She had felt the heat coming off her crystal as she held it in her hands. Maybe her aunt was wrong. Maybe the shopkeeper had told the truth, and the fragile but beautiful rock would help Marin come through her Transition with more protection and control.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Eep.” Marin barely managed to turn her full throttled scream into a small startled cry. She crashed into the small angry redhead, the one suddenly blocking her path, as she cleared the store exit.

Marin snapped her lips together on the urge to ask her aunt questions. Like where the hell she had come from? Trying not to lean away from the look on Lindal’s face, she waited for the sarcasm and disdain to flow. When Lindal merely stood there, glaring in silence, Marin whispered, “I had to run an errand for Anton.”

Lindal’s face brightened to a nice deep red, as her arms crossed, her mouth flattened out in displeasure, and her foot tapped out her impatience. “Don’t lie to me, missy. You work in the office or at home. You do not run around mingling with charlatans.”

Marin held her tongue, her heart beginning to race. She hated fighting with Lindal, and there was no way that this tirade was over. Lindal did more damage with words than lions did fighting over dinner. Marin wanted to be one of those people that could take a browbeating with a grain of salt. But she knew that this time wouldn’t be any easier to take than the other rants spouted over her nearly twenty-one years of life. Lindal’s personality could be vicious, and hard to take, but Marin didn’t have any other family.

Lindal jabbed her dainty finger at Marin, her words hissed with the pressure of contained rage. “Do you want to die like your mother? Do you enjoy making me worry and endangering your life like this?”

Marin lowered her head and whispered, “If magic isn’t real, then I should be safe enough. This is the only unscheduled stop I made.”

“Don’t back talk me, girl. Magic is for fools. And places like this are for those too weak to hold on to their money, those willing to purchase lies because they are unhappy with the imperfections they were born with. If your mother had stayed home, she would be alive. Instead, she was mugged in some back alley and left to bleed out with the trash.”

Marin flinched, yet yearned to hear more. It was the most Lindal had ever said about her mother, or the events that had led to her death. Taking a chance that her aunt would continue sharing, Marin asked, “Is there any way to be safe?” She wanted to ask more about her mother, but feared that Lindal would clam up if she pushed too directly.

“Listen and listen good. People, those freaks with meddling gifts, can see how weak you are. They are abominations, just like you, but they can and will plant thoughts inside your mind, and lead you into danger. Everyone has enhanced senses these days, but you are an oddity. Abnormal, just begging for some fool to believe he can steal your curse, and use it for his own plans, by taking your life. The crap sold in places like this will not give you a shield from the evil in this world.” Lindal had explained many times over the years that Marin had been born without the natural shield that protected a person’s mind.

“But if there are people that can play tricks, put thoughts in your mind, then maybe there could be some small magic that’s real.”

Placing the bag with her new crystal protectively behind her back, Marin fought not to back away from her aunt. The look in Lindal’s eyes told her plainly that she had pushed too far. Any sign of weakness would light a match to these attacks. “Tricks. Nothing but tricks. Your mind is just too weak to figure them out.”

Marin ground her teeth together and avoided her aunt’s eyes. Feeling her hands tighten around her gift bag, her eyes sought out the parking lot for anything to distract Lindal. Marin needed something for both of them to focus on, so that she could get her impotent rage under control. Getting defensive never helped. The woman looked weak and innocent, but ruled their home with an iron fist and razor sharp words.

Instead of continuing to explain all the reasons that Marin had screwed up, Lindal stiffly turned and walked into the parking lot. Apparently, her aunt planned to wait for a private moment to vent the rest of her displeasure. And vent she would. Lindal’s stiff movements and flushed complexion warned Marin that the conversation coming her way would be one of the worst.

Marin didn’t need the lecture repeated. She had it memorized. Rocks and stones are just that. Real magic didn’t exist. She needed to stay at home, safe, except for work. Blah… blah… blah. But Marin wanted more information. How did ordinary people put thoughts inside someone else’s mind? How did her co-worker’s little boy manage to move objects out of her reach when Marin wasn’t looking?

Not knowing what else to do, Marin followed Lindal into the parking lot. Lindal would be in a snit for days.

Marin still couldn’t contain the occasional squeal, though she attempted to keep them as quiet as possible. She needed to get her happiness under control.

Luckily, she had the entire length of the parking lot, to calm herself down. The lot seemed to have more cars than the entire area of Ashland, Kentucky had residents. Crystal Sights had managed to expand on the word grand in Grand Opening. Someone had had the good sense to combine the opening with the beginning of the area’s yearly festival season. Marin didn’t relish Lindal’s anger, but still thought that today had turned out better than she could have hoped. Smiling, she glanced around, as she walked behind her aunt, taking in the different types of shoppers.

Marin watched as three little old ladies climbed out of a bright yellow Caddie, their hair ranging from hooker red to bonnet blue. She saw a younger man pulling his reluctant girlfriend – or possibly wife – from the cab of their truck, her very pregnant belly leading the way. The woman was shaking her head, pointing to the insane number of people, still lining up to enter the store. Marin tried to stop herself from bouncing with every step, not wanting Lindal to see her happiness. This was the closet she had come to attending one of the hometown events, thrown every spring. Festivals that would only become larger when summer finally arrived.

Across the street, by the river, Marin could even see the over-night-assembled rides and concession stands, being mobbed by crowds of yet more tri-state citizens. So many types of people rushed around, laughter in their eyes. Even the pregnant woman had managed a smile, once she made it out of the truck and into the man’s arms.

Every squeak of excitement that Marin failed to contain received a reprimanding glare from Lindal. But Marin was too hopeful to allow Lindal’s mood to kill her joy completely. Claudette – the store owner – had called the stone a Maturation Crystal. Marin’s fingers still tingled from when she had touched the crystal earlier, giving her hope for her Transition Birthday. Everyone went through their twenty-first birthday hoping that they would have better control of their enhanced senses. Even if her birthday came and went without an improvement, the crystal marked Marin’s first independent action.

Marin didn’t want to fight; she wanted to celebrate. With that in mind, she put on a burst of speed, passing Lindal, as she said, “Where are you parked, Aunt Lindal?” Marin wanted to get in her car and head for home before Lindal started listing more ways that this trip had been a mistake. An evening alone in her art studio, admiring her Maturation Crystal, sounded like perfection.

Marin crossed her fingers that Lindal wouldn’t be as irate as the time that Anton had encouraged everyone that worked for Finder’s Keepers to participate in self-defense classes. Marin had been excited. The free classes took place in the gym, off the back of Finder’s Keepers. As far as bosses went, Anton ranked with the best. He even allowed her to compose her Finds at home, in her private studio. The information she came up with helped other Finders on their missions, and working from home kept Lindal from bitching.

Great work hours or not, Lindal still despised the man. Her sneering had managed to run Marin out of more than one room when the subject of Antonius Slade came up, especially after the self-defense debacle. Marin had managed to keep the classes a secret for two years before Lindal found out. And boy had that been memorable. Lindal had found and burned all the workout clothes and the fighting stick that Marin had stashed in her van. She flinched, remembering how the blaze had lit up the front yard, and how Lindal’s reddened face seemed to match the flames. Lindal had burned with rage, expressing her displeasure by instituting her own version of self-defense classes. Marin rubbed her sore hip, trying to shake off yesterday’s lesson.

Marin had gained a good ten feet of distance from Lindal before her aunt decided to reply. Reply and reprimand. “Slow down, child. It is rude to run in public. And I took a taxi, so that we could talk on the ride home. Talk and decide what to do about your current attitude.”

Marin stumbled a little, but otherwise didn’t reply. She absolutely refused to allow anything to put a damper on her spirit. As long as the crystal remained in her possession, she could handle any punishment.

Lindal sneered as she inquired, “Why in the world did you park so far away?”

Marin slowed and turned to walk backward. She couldn’t believe that Lindal chose to ask such a question. “I had hoped that by parking as far away as possible, I could avoid the humiliating gymnastics needed to re-enter my vehicle. That woman we passed a second ago? She was actually climbing in through her sun roof. I don’t know if this type of place is always this packed, but if so, they need more parking. I was lucky to find a spot, no matter how far away it is. But I admit that I concentrated on the area to the rear of the parking lot. Everyone fights for the ones closest to the store. I swear that broken down Toyota back there was circling the lot when I first arrived.”

Marin watched, as the poor rusted contraption made its rounds. She felt sorry for the car, and the driver. Mostly, she felt bad for everyone currently being forced to breathe in the ozone killing balls of smoke emanating from the Toyota.

“Turn around and walk correctly. They can have our spot… once we get there,” Lindal hissed. Her aunt ignored the opportunity to vent some of her rage on the circling motorist. The parking lot had so many cars that the grassy incline along the edges of the parking lot had begun to fill up with unrepentant motorist.

Marin turned and quickened her pace as she yelled, “I’ll just air the car out.” They were almost to Marin’s van, which always smelled of oil based paints and some before-the-invention-of-odorless substances. Mainly, Marin wanted to put off the fight building with each of Lindal’s hissed and clipped words.

“Don’t turn the car on. You’ll…” Lindal’s words ended on a grunt of pain.

Before Marin could turn to look, her aunt’s body flew over her head. She watched her aunt tumble through the air and land, with a sickening crunch, on the hood of her van. She realized that the frighteningly loud cry filling the air was coming from her own mouth, but Marin couldn’t stop. Lindal’s body slid to the ground like a rag doll, a line of blood marking her movements along the bright orange paint. Mere seconds had passed, but Marin felt like she had been frozen to the spot for hours, consumed by her disbelief.

The sound of squealing tires caught her attention, but Marin stood rooted to the spot and continued to scream. Her body refusing to obey her commands.

Eventually, the other sounds in the vast parking lot penetrated her haze. One moment, she was happily looking forward to exploring her new crystal, watching the dozens of other shoppers laugh and dream of the wonders to be found on this perfect spring day. Now, she watched as the only family she had ever known crashed onto the unforgiving asphalt. The need to complete a mission, or purchase her own crystal, started to feel pretty hollow.

Forcing her way out of her hysteria, Marin snapped her mouth closed and glanced around as she rushed forward. The Toyota she had pointed out to Lindal was moving in reverse as she ran for her aunt. No innocent circling for that murderous bastard now.

Marin looked back at Lindal, and her ears filled with a high pitched ringing. She tried to convince herself that this couldn’t be happening. She knew that POS Toyota was to blame, even without seeing the car ramming into her aunt’s vulnerable body.

Marin reached Lindal’s side, attempting to forget about assholes with toxic road rage, so that she could focus on her aunt’s wounds. As she fell to her knees, by Lindal’s broken body, she heard an engine being revved. She could smell burning rubber as she twisted to glance over her shoulder. A horrible metallic noise rent the air, as the Toyota bounced off the lane of cars, and angled in their direction.

Marin sat slack jawed as she realized that the man had the balls to make a second attempt. The Toyota was scrapping along the nearby cars, hell bent on committing death by rust bucket. She didn’t know if she was more upset that someone wanted to kill both her and Lindal, or that her van was about to be harmed in the process.

Marin couldn’t move Lindal to safety, and she refused to leave her alone. She glanced frantically around, searching for a miracle. Run down though the car was, it was still out of her weight class.

Marin twisted back, to face the oncoming vehicle completely, her hands in the air. A plea for mercy? A supplication or a surrender? Marin didn’t know. Time seemed to slow as the Toyota came closer. She felt her usually denied emotions rush to the surface, her anger leading the charge. She felt the rage heat along her skin, begging to be released.

Holding her ground, Marin remained kneeling by Lindal’s side. A blood-curdling scream left her mouth, and for the first time in her life, she allowed her feelings to come to the surface with destructive force. In that moment, Marin felt no fear, no shyness. Just rage. A rage that felt at home and welcoming as it exploded in the air. Even her confusion and denial – those feelings she felt most at home with – had been buried under this red-hot mixture of emotion.

A jolt of pain, from some invisible force, threw Marin to the ground. Lying on her back, her head pounding, she felt as if the invisible entity flowed from her body and zeroed in on the offending car. Her skin tingling, Marin watched, through eyes of indignation, as the tires on one side of the car suddenly left the ground. The Toyota was thrown into the air and onto the tires on its other side. The car slid off course, hitting the vehicles on the opposite side of the lane, and continued to tip, until it was rolling away from Lindal’s defenseless body. Crashing into the cars perched on the grassy incline, at the end of the lot, the Toyota rocked to a stop. It had looked like the car had been encased in some kind of protective shield, a wavering bubble of air, as it rolled away from Lindal’s position.

Marin shook her head to dispel the insanity. Shields didn’t work that way. Lindal had explained that a shield was an invisible defense, in the mind, to keep out unwanted thoughts and ideas. She felt the back of her head, wondering how hard she had managed to hit the asphalt. Did she have a concussion?

After the Toyota had slammed off the cars in the grass, tottering back and forth, it finally landing in the correct upward position. Marin didn’t know what had just happened, and at that moment, she didn’t care. She took a second to watch, as the Toyota clipped the back of a few cars, and miraculously sped away.

The smell of burning rubber and the sound of a hanging bumper, creating sparks along the pavement, were the only proof that this nightmare had ever happened. That and dozens of dented automobiles. The way the Toyota had rolled away from them, as if a giant was playing with his Tonka Trucks, would haunt Marin’s nightmares for a long time. She decided that the entire event needed to be firmly placed in her denial box, and she moved to check on Lindal and to call for an ambulance. She needed help; she needed help now.

Kyland Marcuson’s left eyebrow lifted, as he stood staring in disbelief. Seeing a woman with the power to move a few thousand pounds of metal, or even the brutal act of vehicular homicide, didn’t move him. These acts were common place to those of the Supernatural Community. The astounding number of people exiting their cars and the store, to stand around gawking also left him unmoved. Supes and Norms, supernatural beings without power, alike enjoyed a good train-wreck-worthy incident. Even the powerless humans enjoyed viewing tragedy.

After all this time, he had finally found her. Kyland had searched for Marin for more than twenty years. He had managed to locate her, only to watch as she fought for her life. Kyland shook his head and allowed the pull of the woman’s essence to lead him to her side. His Queen had given him this mission, saying only that she would be the one to save them from the Danshue—the evil Fae.

Once the Queen vanished, Kyland had made it his sole purpose in life to locate Marin, a small babe he knew nothing about. The end of his journey, and the child was now a beautiful woman, with more questions surrounding her than answers. Her blonde hair, big blue eyes, and button nose gave her a vulnerable look. A look that was obviously a lie.

Kyland also felt surprised at the lust tearing through his system. He was here to protect this woman, not bed her. Still, those curves… Marin had to be more than a foot shorter than his own 6’8″ height, but she was still built like a dream. A dream he wanted to memorize with hands, mouth, and tongue. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Kyland continued forward.

People stood on the sidelines, watching and waiting, afraid to step forward, to help. Kyland pushed and shoved people out of his way to reach the woman he suspected to be the woman he was searching for. When he’d undertaken this mission, more than two decades ago, he was told that the child he needed to find and protect would have no real power. Her biggest gift should have been an overabundance of sensitivity. She should have been as close to powerless as she could get, without being human or a Norm. Apparently, some very important information had been withheld.

On the other hand, Marin had appeared shocked as she watched the car’s near miss. Maybe she didn’t understand her abilities, abilities that she shouldn’t have. Kyland could see in here eyes a slight refusal to believe the reality she now found herself in. He had watched as she shook her head, physically pushing away her confusion.

Kyland was close enough now to feel the denial coming from her psyche in waves. Her emotions were so strong; he could barely focus on anything else. He could also see that the Queen had left out a thing or two about the child’s identity when they’d discussed this mission.

Damn, damn, damn. Right now, Kyland needed to check on Marin and the woman lying at her side. But he needed to move forward carefully. He didn’t want to frighten the young woman, especially after she had just been traumatized. He needed to save her friend, if possible, and slowly build a connection, a bond of trust. If she were the correct person, then… then the future of his people would depend on her. He didn’t understand, not completely, but the Queen had given him a name, a location, and a time frame. He needed to find Marin, somewhere within Earth-side, before her Transition.

Well, if this was Marin, he had the woman/child; he was in Kentucky, so he was Earth-side, just like the Queen’s prophecy; the time frame was the remaining key. Kyland had less than a month left to complete the first step. Hopefully, the rest would fall into place, and by the end of the year, the Queen would be returned.

Kyland had spent the last two decades learning every new medical procedure, every medical aid techniques of any discipline, as they were improved on. The Marin he was sent to retrieve had been kidnaped, and kidnap victims were rarely treated well. Why else would she be stolen at birth unless it was to harvest her power? Supe children could be used as batteries, for the sadistic and depraved. Evil men and women, or Danshue, that sought power above all else and were willing to do anything to obtain it.

Dropping to his knees, Kyland could see that the woman on the ground didn’t appear to be breathing. Time was short, but still he approached slowly. Perhaps the surrounding crowd of useless onlookers had the right idea. If he was correct, the beautiful blonde could toss him across the parking lot, if he surprised her.

“Do you need help?” Kyland slowly reached to check Marin’s friend for vitals, before tilting the head, to begin CPR. The woman he worked on was extremely small, broken, and bleeding. Her flaming red hair seemed familiar, but Kyland couldn’t worry about his patient’s identity. Not with a confused and wary Marin, watching his every move.

“Please… I don’t know… what to do… I can’t…” Marin didn’t know if she should trust this stranger, this mouthwatering man, but she needed help. Lindal needed help. She had already called 911 and told the operator what she could, but now her phone had disappeared. The best Finder the U.S. could offer, and she couldn’t even locate her own cell phone. She held her hand near the side of her aunt’s face, afraid to touch her. Didn’t the people in movies always stay on the phone when they called 911? She needed her phone. What was she— How could she—

Marin couldn’t breathe. She was screwing up. Lindal was hurt. She should have told the operator more. Couldn’t. Breathe.

“Do not worry. Just take a calming breath and work with me. I need you to stabilize her head for me. My name is Kyland, by the way, and I will do what I can to help, if you will let me.” Kyland took her hand, and it was suddenly easier to breathe. “Can you do that?”

Kyland had a manly beauty, one that sculptors would kill to etch. She found it hard not to stare at Mister Tall, Dark, and Handsome, her eyes continually jumping back to outline his features, even in the midst of her worry. He had to be nearly seven feet tall, and his eyes gleamed like flecks of coal.

When Kyland leaned forward to recheck Lindal for breath, Marin could see that his eyes were actually an extremely dark gray. His hair fell in a wave of black silk, to his shoulders, and his muscles looked edible in a glowing reddish brown tone.

Kyland had one of those year round natural tans that women the world over dreamed of. Marin would have assumed a Native American background, but there was just something more, something different, about him.

Marin gave herself a mental shake, to push his looks from her mind, and focus on the woman that had raised her. She would do anything and everything asked of her. She would follow Kyland’s lead and hope for the best.

Nodding her head rapidly, Marin moved to Lindal’s head to do as indicated. She had a purpose. The ambulance was coming, and Kyland would help Lindal until they arrived.

Marin hated the way that Lindal treated her, but she wanted distance and independence, not this. This couldn’t be happening. What if she lost the only family she…

Just as the panic started to take over again, Marin felt someone squeezing her hand. Kyland gave her comfort as his other hand rechecked for a pulse.

As the blonde did as instructed, Kyland continued compressions. He couldn’t think of her as Marin, not yet. There had to be another reason for her to look just like- Kyland took a deep breath, to focus on the here and now. He had cleared his patient’s airway, while sending a healing spell into her body. It would help, but whether it would be enough or not, he didn’t know. He had to get her breathing again if he hoped to save her.

Kyland had done two sets of compressions, and was bending to blow air into her lung, when the woman took a deep breath on her own. Her eyes snapped open. Eyes that he knew, hated, and could never forget.

“You…” The word slipped out of his mouth before Kyland could think about stopping himself. He barely managed to cut off his words before a barrage of her suspected crimes left his mouth.

Well, damn. Kyland hadn’t recognized the injured woman with her eyes shut, but he should have. The wrinkles were obviously an illusion, but the fire engine red hair, the small stature… and now, those liquid sliver-green eyes couldn’t be denied. Only one person had eyes the shade of mixed mercury and vibrant new grass. Lindal Rencoff. Murder, treason, the thief of power by painful means… the list of her suspected crimes went on and on. Lindal needed to be tried for crimes against the Queen and Fae alike, for being Danshue—a Fae willing to lose his or her soul in exchange for stolen power.

The Queen definitely hadn’t informed him that he would find the woman/child that he was looking for with the traitor Lindal Rencoff. What the hell was going on here? His mouth turned down; Kyland had to fight the urge to wrap his hands around Lindal’s neck.

Every Supe in the Supernatural Community believed that Lindal had been cut down, marked as one of the dead or missing, in the last Great War. Instead, she’d hid among a bunch of humans, with her kidnap victim— a woman the Fae people desperately needed. He ran his hands roughly over his face and looked to the heavens for some kind of sign.

Kyland’s gaze darted around to locate any other enemies but found only curious onlookers and banged up cars and trucks. He took a moment to decide if he should call in back up or not as his gaze went to Marin. Why had he been sent alone on this mission?

To answer that, he first needed to answer one every important question. Did the Queen fear her own people?

The fact that Kyland had been sent alone, to retrieve someone that deserved an armed escort, was pretty much answer enough. Had the Queen foreseen that she and her entire house would be cursed and hidden from the rest of the Fae, from the entire Supernatural Community, never to be seen again?

Kyland had been sent alone on this mission, and he had nearly failed. Watching the car closing in, he had known that he would not make it in time. Even moving out of phase—as one with the shadows—Kyland would have been too late. None of his personal magic could have stopped the car from taking the life of the woman he could feel calling out to his essence. He had spent over two decades in search of a poor defenseless child in need of protection, only to find that Marin had the ability to save herself.

The car had been pushed and flipped, as if unseen forces had been displeased. If it hadn’t been for his ability to sense the magic being used, he might have believed the unseen forces theory. After all, he had been told that Marin couldn’t reach, or use, her gifts yet. Dammit. If the power he had felt represented Marin’s untapped gifts, they would all be in a world of trouble if he couldn’t find a way to ease Marin’s power slowly past whatever had them blocked.

If Marin’s gifts exploded from their containment all at once… more than just her psyche and body were in danger. It would be like the magical version of an atomic bomb. Kyland had less than a month, and eventually time would run out. The block had to have been placed over Marin’s psyche, her power. A block Marin’s power had managed to break through, like it was child’s play, only to disappear completely once the danger was past.

Yep. Kyland was in deep and all out of paddles. This mission became more important with every passing second.

Chapter Two

Her perfect crystal now lost in the parking lot of Crystal Sights; Lindal was in surgery fighting for her life, and Marin gazed blankly at the ugliest green wallpaper she had ever seen. Hospital waiting rooms shouldn’t remind a person of moldy vomit. They should be peaceful and comforting. Reminders of the split pea soup incident from the Exorcist were neither peaceful nor comforting. Even a stark white would be more pleasant that the current color palate.

Marin feared that the need to scream and never stop would finally win out. She wanted answers but also needed to forget. Right this second, she’d settle for a nice friendly coat of paint. It would give her mind something to focus on while she waited for the doctors to fix her aunt.

Body shaking like she needed a large hit of the newest controlled substance, Marin pulled her knees up against her chest and rocked quietly in her less than comfortable chair. She glared at one of the chipped areas of vomit-itis paint. It had been hours of waiting with only her headache, stale coffee, and these horrendous walls to keep her company. Everyone else in the room had managed to fade into the background, her mind uninterested in their presence.

The door to the waiting room opened, causing Marin to glare in that direction. A man in hospital scrubs searched the room for someone. His mouth moved, not that Marin could hear anything over the pounding in her head that caused her ears to ring. The name tag proclaimed that this was Dr. Criss. He had a nice looking mouth, but the rest of his features remained out of focus.

Marin counted the handful of people waiting for news, shocked to realize that the room held a deep well of silence. Surely, there should be something to hear. The quiet murmur of loved ones consoling each other, the drone of the television, or even the gurgle of the coffee pot, but Marin caught nothing like that. She couldn’t even remember if the room had been so full when she first arrived.

The doctor looked straight at Marin and walked in her direction with purpose in his posture and compassion on his face. Was he speaking to her? Her feet dropped to the floor at the same time that her gaze sought out anyone else sitting nearby that could be his intended target. The warring emotions, to get answers and to deny that any of this was real, fought for supremacy.

Marin examined the people sharing the room with her closer. An elderly woman with two small children worked to console her youngest child. No more than two, her little face contorted in distress and hopeless anguish, as she sat clinging to her grandmother. Tears ran down her little rounded cheeks. Her face red and body shaking, the child ignored modern rules of society, and expressed her pain the only way that she knew how. It looked almost freeing. Still, she heard nothing.

Marin could see a man on a pay phone, another man holding a softly crying woman, and a few teens. But not a single sound managed to accompany their actions. Her eyes took in the expressions of pain and sadness, but her mind refused to allow her to hear their distress. That seemed wrong.

The doctor had nearly reached her side. Marin couldn’t see that as a positive sign. The paramedics had told her that things looked good; the beautiful stranger had promised everything would be fine before he had disappeared. Lindal’s breathing had seemed even and controlled when they’d pulled up to the emergency room doors. Marin just couldn’t see how anything good could come from five hours of uncertainty after all the positive lies.

The doctor stopped in front of her, his lips still moving. Maybe he had a tick or something. Marin fought the need to smile. The doctor’s brow crinkled, and he reached out to touch her face. Grasping her chin, he lifted her head up. When he moved closer, to look into her eyes, Marin jolted from the chair.

The world was suddenly rent by a mournful cry, a cry that only the young could dare make. Not yet fearful of what others will think, a child will throw her head back, and shriek her pain to the heavens. Marin wanted that freedom. The little girl with the head full of auburn curls and the extremely healthy lungs continued to cling to her grandmother. Her pain the first sound to shatter the unnatural silence of the waiting room.

The silence hadn’t been that bad, in a way. Marin preferred the denial.

“Miss Yarthine?” the doctor asked.

Dammit. Marin finally made eye contact with the doctor. She needed to do better. She needed to focus before she ended up with her very own hospital gown.

Afraid to speak, Marin just continued to stare. Wanting to release her own cathartic wails, she wrapped her arms protectively around her body, and managed a small nod. She felt something touch her shoulder and glanced back in the doctor’s direction, not remembering when she had turned away. This had to be shock. There was a constant buzz emanating from her temples, and that couldn’t be good either.

Marin’s head felt like a stranger. She could feel this ticking beat, as if her heart had managed to make the climb in to her head. The noise in her head kept changing. Sometimes, she felt like she had a few bees in residence, and at others she just knew that an angry band had taken to using the space between her ears for practice.

Did that mean she was in shock? Or maybe, Marin had hit her head harder than she’d realized. Someone had checked her out. She remembered…

Smiling kindly and reclaiming her attention, the doctor said, “Your aunt is unconscious at the moment. She hasn’t woken yet, so we’re keeping her in the ICU, at least until she wakes. Visiting hours are over until tomorrow afternoon, but I think we can let you come back to see her for a few minutes. Her brain received quite a trauma. All her other injuries appear stable for now, but the brain… we really can’t know more until she’s conscious.”

Marin didn’t know what to say. Her head bowed, and she covered her mouth with a shaking hand. Her knees wanted to buckle. She felt weak as the weight of so much worry lightened. With a barely repressed sob, Marin managed to choke out, “Thank you.” The news wasn’t perfect, but at least her aunt was still alive.

The doctor turned to leave, and Marin followed him and a nurse that had managed to go unnoticed. Somehow managing to find the strength to make her legs steady, as they went down the hall, Marin couldn’t help but feel impatient. She wanted to run, to see Lindal with her own eyes.

Maybe if Marin held Lindal’s hand, felt her precious warmth… Who was she kidding? Marin needed her aunt to open her eyes and give one of those frosty glares that she had perfected over the years.

Marin’s hand flew up to catch an inappropriate giggle, and the buzzing in her temple started pulsating to a new rhythm, but she didn’t care. She needed proof that Lindal was still alive, that her only family member would continue to make her life miserable.

The small room where they finally stopped, sat behind a glass wall, the privacy curtain only partially closed, so that the end of the bed could be clearly seen from outside. The crash cart sitting within easy reach of the door left a less than comforting ache in Marin’s chest. The sooner Lindal could be moved to a less threatening room, the better.

“Ten minutes. But then you’ll need to come back during visiting hours,” the nurse explained in a firm, but sympathetic voice. The doctor had already disappeared.

Marin could barely hear the nurse’s words; she seemed kind enough, but at that moment, Marin wanted to be alone. Seeming to understand, the nurse gave her another sympathetic look, and left Marin to peek around the curtain by herself.

Lindal’s small form, lying quietly in the midst of tubes and wires, barely filled half of the twin-size hospital bed. Her aunt had always been small, even shorter than Marin’s own five-foot-two-inches. In the hospital bed, the force that naturally radiated off Lindal’s every movement became subdued, and her strong personality lessened. Her aunt look abnormally vulnerable.

Rubbing her arms, Marin wanted to take a step away from the unreal sight; instead, she forced her hands to grip the footboard tightly. She had come so close to losing Lindal.

The paramedics had arrived quickly, but they never would have made it in time. Marin wasn’t stupid. Lindal hadn’t been breathing, and that meant one thing, and one thing only. Lindal had died. With only Marin to help her, she would have stayed that way. Stranger or not, Kyland had saved Lindal’s life.

Kyland had come out of nowhere and disappeared the same way. Marin shook her head, doubting that she would ever be able to find him or thank him. On one hand, some unnamed tension left her body at the thought that she would never have to face him again. Face the emotions he’d stirred. Still, his absence left a hole in her heart, and a choking thickness in her throat. Which made absolutely no sense. Marin knew nothing about this man. How did he cause confusion strong enough to overwhelm her mind? Marin shook her head. The who and where of Kyland were problems for another day. Right now, she needed to focus on Lindal.

Marin needed answers. Like why had they been targeted? The parking lot hadn’t exactly been lacking for vehicular violence victim contenders. There had been a group of at least four women, standing by their cars, chatting. If there was a target more deserving of vehicular rage, it had definitely been that group of women. They had finished shopping, and courtesy demanded that their parking spots were to be relinquished as soon as possible. Why not them?

The man—and Marin was only guessing that the driver was a man—had bypassed those without parking lot etiquette and zeroed in on Lindal. If she had continued her slow progress through the parking lot, would Marin be in this horrible room with its beeping monitors and bleached air instead of Lindal.

Staring down at her aunt’s unmoving form, Marin tried to find a place to rest her hand. She needed to touch her. She needed to know that the only person willing to take her in, after the death of her mother, was really here and still alive.

“They will find him, Lindal. He won’t get away with this,” Marin made her vow as quietly as possible, not wanting to disturb Lindal’s recovery.

Glancing up to keep tears from falling from her eyes, Marin noticed something swinging off of Lindal’s oxygen line. “What the…” It looked like a Barbie doll with wings, perhaps six inches tall. The odd little creature wore a loin cloth and sported some overly obvious male attributes. Was it wrong to be checking out the abs of someone no larger than a child’s toy?

His arms tugged and his muscles bunched as he attempted to make a knot in Lindal’s oxygen line. His silver skin tone went beautifully with his tri-colored wings— a mix of light purple, maroon, and gold. The little man didn’t seem to realize that Marin was staring at him.

“Stop,” Marin shouted. Dammit, this was a hospital. She needed to lower her voice. She also needed to go upstairs to the psych ward. Head trauma, shock, or hallucinations¼ something wasn’t right. If she told Lindal about this, her aunt would call her every kind of fool.

Hallucination or not, she grabbed the little man by the wings, pulled him from Lindal’s oxygen line, and tried to speak more calmly. “What do you think you’re doing?”

She finally had her figment’s attention. A striking, though small, pair of lavender eyes glared at her through overly long sandy brown bangs. On closer inspection, she could see that his hair was actually multicolored. It seemed to go from crystal white sand to bronzed gold.

“Well, answer me. What do you think you’re doing?”

“Waiting for you, of course.”

“What are you?” She was losing it. The buzzing in her temples was increasing. And she was now speaking to a figment of her imagination. Yep, she needed to be medicated.

The creature put its tiny fists on narrow hips. “A Sprite, of course. Don’t you know anything? I have my work cut out for me.” Now she was being insulted by her imagination. Great.

“Nope. Too Much,” Marin said and tossed the little man with wings out of the hospital window. She needed coffee. Either that or a large dose of Thorazine. Maybe both.

Contest to win a copy of Shocking Finds

Contest, contest, contest…

Hit C.D. Hersh’s Blog on Nov 6, and leave a comment on her Shocking Finds Post to enter to win a copy of Shocking Finds (A Finder’s Keepers Novel) … woo who… the contest will run until noon the following Monday… Then a randomly picked commenter will be chosen.

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Just add your comment about the blog and wait to see if you are the lucky winner… happy wordage everyone…

Oct 17 writing prompt… Nine different WAYS

I thought that for Oct 17th’s prompt, we could take the word WAY and approach it nine different ways… use the word WAY and peruse the pictures to come up with a story idea… writing prompts are great fillers for when you get stuck during next months NaNoWriMo… okay, now for Nine

In the family WAY… Adding a baby to the picture can throw a whole new spin on your characters way of life, their personality, and their willingness to be ruthless… some may freak out, unready for the responsibility… or maybe overwhelming fear of one small being depending on them…

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My WAY or the highway… This is a stubborn personality type that your other characters may want to punch in the face… but what if your character is an alpha male, and in a situation that needs him/her to be in charge… my way or the highway might come into play… eventually you could allow him/her a chance to grow a little, by allowing someone else to make the decisions

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Going the WAY of the dodo. This is a phrase that has to do with extinction. The dodo was discovered and then quickly hunted into extinction rather quickly, because of their passive nature. If people, businesses, technology is unwilling or unable to change with the tide, to grow into more to stay ahead of the race, then they too will become extinct… For us writers, Barns and Noble is an excellent example… they weren’t quick or efficient enough to compete with Kindle and now we see less and less actual physical locations in which to purchase books… people still love a good paperback, but the cheaper prices and the ease of delivery makes E-books attractive.

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Which WAY/ freeway. Your character could be on a trip. I like to go on vacation and try to stop along the way at random places that catch my fancy. I call it going on walk about… Which way should your character go?? Have then set out for one destination, but be sidetracked by something… A roadside sign that shows Amish country fudge or construction… A flat tire in the middle of nowhere… Hunger or restroom needs… Once they stop, so many different things could try to keep them from getting on their way, endanger their lives, or even make them stay and never want to leave.

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That WAY lies destruction. Your character keeps doing something that leads them closer and closer to a dead end, a fight, further away from their goal.

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In the WAY of progress. Is your character a nature lover, afraid that a corporation will clear out a forest of trees so that they can build a resort… or a logger… or a family of Brownies (or other Fae) living in the trees, needing to learn to cohabitate with humans. Stories revolving around trees are the ones that pop into my mind, but standing in the way of progress could be so many different things… a group of terrorists that refuse to grow, to change, and will fight to stick to the old ways… even trying to force their ways on the progressive cultures… technologies, businesses, farmers, book stores, cultures… anything or anyone that stands in the way of progress will be fighting to stick to the old ways…

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WAYlay… hmmm what does the word waylay mean and how can we use it in a story… this is when you take by surprise, attack from the shadows, strike when others have their guard down. The trickster Fae have a tendency to draw travelers from the beaten path, get them lost, and then all manner of bad things can happen… Or a pitcher know for their fast balls can surprise the batter with a curve ball… or maybe your character is a hunter, lying in wait for a deer…

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Give-a-WAY. This one is very self explanatory. It is when you give things away, toys to children, money as surprise gifts, even the suckers at the bank when you go in to cash a check…

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Layaway. This is when you lay claim to something, and then have time to pay it off… Your character can work in layaway, and deal with the insanity of holiday gift layaways… or maybe a woman that has a layaway for her child goes to cancel it because she knows she wont be able to come up with the funds, and she finds that someone has paid for the purchases… turns out a man that secretly loves her knew of her troubles and secretly paid for her stuff…

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That concluded our nine different WAYS. But I just had to add this last piece… it has the word layaway in it, but for the most part it is just a cute little story… Happy wordage, Tracey

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News clipping/ writing to cope with illness

Elizabeth Jackson of the Greater Ashland Beacon interviewed me for the Oct 13 release of the local news paper… she did an excellent job, and was a joy to speak with… Thanks

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Pumpkin Explosion

Alright… I decided to use today’s PROMPT to write the beginning of a short story for my Sam and Nick series… tomorrow I will either use the new prompt to continue my short, or start a whole new one… by the end of October I will have a million ideas recorded for future use… muhahahaha… without further ado, here is what I came up with…

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Pumpkin Explosion

Sam just wanted to make it to work. Being late on the first day would be a horrible first impression. Being a female cop was hard enough; she didn’t need to give the others anything else to throw in her face. It was bad enough that she was being transferred to the other side of the country. At least when she worked at the San Francisco police department she knew what to expect; the temperature stayed predicable, traveling the city was best done with some kind of motorized craft because of all the dang hills, and Chinatown hand her favorite rice and noodle dishes. Did Myrtle Beach even have hills or cool weather? It was 100 degrees in august. Unnatural was what that was.

Fed up with her overworked air-conditioner, Sam rolled down all of the car’s windows and took in a lungful of ocean air. She couldn’t see the sand and waves from her potion on the highway but the coastal breeze helped to make her wait bearable.

Sam had been sitting at a standstill for over an hour. Finally, she got out of the car and started walking. It was tempting to push her way through the parked cars, just drive onto the median but she had been in the middle lane when things decided to ground to a halt.

Making her way to the end of the stopped cars seemed to take hours, but a glance at her watch showed that no more than ten minutes had passed. Pushing her way through the other onlookers that should have been sitting in their cars, Sam could only stare in wonder at what she found. She knew that hot summer weather was good for the growing season, but damn, the road was full of pumpkins. “Wow. Just wow.”

She looked around for an overturned truck, and irate farmer screaming about lost produce, or even a couple of kids laughing their heads off about their well-planned prank, but found nothing. Nothing but pumpkins.

There was no way to move through the closely placed pumpkins and no way to drive over them. Sam had never seen pumpkins so large. Squatting down to look closer, things only got weirder. The pumpkins hadn’t been placed; they had grown up through the road itself. Right through the asphalt. “That so isn’t right.”

Shaking her head, Sam pushed to her feet. Pulling her phone out to call in to the police station, she first glinted her eyes and focused on the other people standing around gaping at the unnatural sight. “Okay, people. Police. I need you all to either get back in your cars or help me to move these things to the side of the road.” One way or another, she was getting to work.

Kicking the nearest pumpkin, Sam wondered if she was too old to change careers. She was only twenty-seven, but finding a different line of work would be a hassle. Finding one she loved as much as police work would be near impossible. But come on… she was now in the lead of clean up for a pumpkin explosion. Not exactly what she dreamed of when she went to the academy.

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click on the PROMPT to see oct 2nd prompt and add your own thoughts… happy wordage, tracey

An Interview with Angela Ackerman

Source: An Interview with Angela Ackerman

I absolutely love these books… The Emotions Thesaurus, The Positive Traits Thesaurus, The Negative Traits Thesaurus… I loved this interview and went on to read the one about Becca Puglisi

Those of you in the MS circle know that our words and thoughts can be jumbled at times. It is like a mental and physical case of ‘it’s on the tip of my tongue’, but so much worse. Still, the knowledge is there. For me it helps to spark that knowledge with other words and descriptions… When I’m talking to someone, I will just start throwing out explanations until it comes to me… (lol… unless I’m tired, then I just say ‘WORDS!’ and stop trying… those closest to me have learned what this means… it means my brain needs a break :P)

When I’m writing their books help me to spark just how I want to show my character’s actions and feelings, instead of just telling the reader… Showing vs Telling… it is read and can be a pain, even when my words aren’t hiding from me. These girls rock, and they have helped me soooo much… I seriously doubt I would have ever found a publisher to take me on without their books, and the influence of a few others…

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Shocking Finds and all the books to follow are a piece of me. I am so glad I found these thesauruses to help me articulate the worlds growing inside my mind. 😛 Happy Wordage everyone, Tracey

 

Short Story Insanity

So here is the debate of the day. I just finished a short story about Marin showing how she started working at Finder’s Keepers. Now… what do I do with it?

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This could be a slow walk down into either a lovely idea or a never ending abyss… muhahahaha… Okay, things aren’t that bad, but I know my mind and the voices trapped within have the potential to turn this idea into an OCD wormhole. Already I’m thinking of writing a short for Kyland, and maybe one for Makayla or Anton. Something to allow readers to get to know the characters of Shocking Finds now while we wait for oct 26 and the big release.

I’m waiting to hear back form my publisher, Mary Smith from Gone Writing Publishing. I want her two cents on the matter, but I would also love to hear what you guys have to say. Who wants to read about Marin and her journey to becoming a Finder?

The Liebster Award

The Liebster Award

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Woo who… all about me!

Check out my debut novel: Shocking Finds on Amazon

Georgie nominated me for this award. Thanks girl, you rock. The rules for the award are as follows:

  • Thank the nominator
  • Display the award
  • Answer the questions
  • Nominate five more bloggers with the same questions or different ones.
  • Notify your nominees.

Q and A:

Why did you start a blog?

Because every author needs a platform these days. I wanted to share my my new and exciting adventure to be published with as many people as possible.

Favorite place to read?

I have to comfortable above all else. Usually that means my lazy boy recliner.

Favorite book of all time?

My favorite  book is always changing. Lately it has been the last book in Karen Chance’s Cassie Player series, as I wait for her next release.

Classics or moderns?

I have to say modern because the only classic I love/read is Pride and Prejudice.

Favorite book series?

There are a lot of favorites. Merry Gentry series by LK Hamilton, Midnight’s Daughter & Cassie Palmer series both by Karen Chance, and anything by Shelly Laurentian/G.A. Aiken are just a few.

If you could be a fictional character, who would you be and why?

I would be one of Lynsay Sands’s vampires so that I could heal anything and have centuries to experience all the wonders the world has to offer.

Book or eBook?

Both. I love the feel and look of a book, but enjoy the ease of reading on my kindle. I will purchase hardback copies of my favorites.

Favorite time of day?

Definitely evening. I am soooo not a morning person.

A film that completely ruined your expectations because the book was amazing?

Not sure how to answer this one. I know that there have been a lot of movies that fell flat after the enjoyment of the book version. While I enjoyed the Twilight movies, they came off with a more comic book feel after the book’s ability to pull you into Stephanie Meyer’s world.

Apart from reading, what do you enjoy doing most?

Art. Art of any kind …

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before and after wedding tree made for
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shoes for cuz’s bridesmaids (all ten)
Nominees:
If you were nominated, please answer the follow… and remember … a picture is worth a thousand words!
Your questions are as follows…
1.  What is your guilty pleasure? Do you lick the icing off cakes when no one is looking, do you eat before going out for a mean you know will cause you stress, do you baby talk to you cat??? What little thing makes you happy, and makes you feel silly?
2.   When you go to the movies, do you go for action, comedy, drama… and why? Is there an actor that draws you to this type of movie, or does this type of movie help you to relax in some way … maybe you just like getting the crap scared out of you so you can hold on to your date… come on fess up… lol
3.  If you are an author… What would you like to say about your upcoming novel? If you are an avid reader … What book has you bouncing from foot to foot, as you wait for its release?
4.  Accent?? What type of accent do you have, what type do you love to hear, and what type would you like to have if you could change your own???
5.  ‘The hills are alive with the sound of music…’ Vacation locations… Where is your favorite past vacation spot, and where would you like to go before you die?
6.  No matter if you are an author or not, what advice would you give to your favorite author?
7.  If you could make everyone in the world answer one question, no holds bar and unfailingly honestly…. what would it be? muhahahaha
8.  What is your spirit animal? yep, I really want to know… personally, I think I am some kind of hybred mix. Like a pug puppy, hyena, dolphin mix… yep… I like that, so that is what I will be. (Any Native Americans out there … feel free to answer with the honest spiritual answer, or one that is more insane like me…)
9.  I always have pens, or refills for my favorite pen, in my purse. Do you do anything similar (and guys, we will call it a man-purse, or just always available in your truck 😛 ) And do you have a favorite pen?
10.  And last but not least, describe your craziest life experience.

giddy and nervous

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okay, peeps… a short post here to update. I am so excited, overwhelmed, freaked, and cartwheel-worthy happy (not hat I am insane enough to try one… face planting would not be an appropriate expression of my joy)

I have a deadline, a release date, and my cover for Shocking Finds will be revealed next week. My first baby will be available for consumption oct 26… As soon as Mary (from Gone Writing Publishing) gives the go ahead, and all our ducks are in a row, I will be sure to post all the links to purchase Shocking Finds: A Finder’s Keepers Novel. I can’t wait, I really can’t. I need to find a way to capture and print that first sale so that I can hang it on my wall, like a new business framing the first dollar… This is really happening. When I get a moment to breath I may even believe it… wooo who

happy wordage, Tracey Clark

Radio or Podcast Interviews.. Gold dust for an author – Get prepared.

food for thought… we all hope to reach as many readers as possible… this is just part of that dream… and knowing beforehand what to say is an excellent idea… no one want to get an all important call from a radio or podcast, only to get on there and have that dream/nightmare… you know the one… you show up to class without your homework, or your clothes… and still the teacher wants an answer to a five part mathematical questions – all while your peers fall out of their seats laughing… sooo , my writer friends, lets all take a moment and dream big… and while we are at it, lets read through this post and prepare for that big call… happy wordage

Smorgasbord - Variety is the spice of life

Wonderful news, your hard work in promoting your new book on social media and locally has paid off and you get the call or email. An invitation to do an interview on a radio station, television show or author promoting podcast.

Getting an interview on a radio show or an established author podcast is gold dust for an author and as such requires you to take a deep breath and celebrate. Millions of Indies out there would love the opportunity to get their voice heard about their work so give this serious thought.

Usually the request will come in by email rather than over the phone as it depends on what you have put down as your contact details. To be honest I do not put my phone details on any of my own press releases or social media. Even though I have been on the other side of the…

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