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Elizabeth Los: Second on the Right Blog Tour

Pitch

From an ancient promise, treachery and intrigue follow protagonists through our world and one lost to the waves. Bound by an invisible bond, they’re thrust into a fantastical world of pirates and demons. Will they unite through time, fulfilling the promise of ancestors, or will tempers ignite leading to failure?

Biography

Elizabeth uses writing as therapy, her release from everyday stress. At night, after work and once the children are finally tucked in bed, for the fifth time, she sits at her laptop and lets her imagination flow. Typing over eighty words per minute, her stories quickly form into full length novels.

Elizabeth has produced story stories, including Sherlock Holmes fan fiction. By July 2011, her first novel, Second on the Right, had been completed. She spent several years polishing the story in order to provide a high quality product to the public. Second on the Right is her first professional novel.

Peter

“Peter,” James said in a low growl. “Show yourself!” he shouted.
“That crow. I’ve heard that before,” Benedict commented.
Peter alighted onto the railing with such ease and grace it irritated James. He gave a slight bow, as if observing the niceties. Pulling one of two bags from his belt, he held it up in his hand. James held the sheath of his sword with his hook, struggling only momentarily to hurriedly unsheathe it.
Peter laughed and shook his bag, “Need a hand?” He howled even more, causing chills to run through James.
James advanced towards him, but stopped short. Peter had reached into the bag he had been holding and had removed a rotting hand, with fingers missing. It was all too familiar to James: his right hand. James and Benedict cringed, disgusted at the sight.
Peter tossed it at James, who jumped back in disgusted. The splat of soft, decomposing flesh hit the wood. Peter spun up in flight, and landed back down on the deck, retrieving the hand. Pieces were left behind from its initial fall.
“No? Much happier with a hook, are we? You’re welcome,” he sneered. “There’s one who would appreciate a hand. Yours, in fact.” He floated to the railing to glance at the waters below. “Come, take a look. I promise I won’t bite,” he grinned, moving away to allow James to draw near.
James and Benedict cautiously took a glimpse. What they saw was the silhouette of an enormous crocodile.
James said to him, “Impossible. They can’t grow that large, can they?”
Benedict had no response. He had never seen one that large. In the water, the crocodile, nearly twenty meters long, ticked and hissed. The sounds were eerily similar to a clock.
Benedict and James peered down again at the beast. The crocodile thrashed and clawed its way partially up the side of the Mistral Thief. Sweat dampened James’ brow. Benedict looked at Peter, who was now dangling the remaining portion of what he assumed was James’ right hand over the side of the ship. The crocodile leapt from the water, greatly desiring either the hand of James or James himself.
Both James and Benedict cringed, though it was James that moved away from the railing. The scratching of the crocodile’s claws on the side of the ship seemed to make him tremble. Peter laughed maniacally, and tossed James’ hand to the crocodile.
“You’ve been using it for bait?” James looked at Peter, horror and disgust evident on his face. “This is all a game to you.”
Pan. He hasn’t aged. Should I tell James? Benedict thought. His eyes shifted in James’ direction. He needs to know.
James pointed his sword at Peter. “What do you want?” He shouted.
Peter unsheathed his knife, circling around the deck. James followed suit. Occasionally, Peter would tap the end of his sword. However, Benedict knew James was a man of indomitable courage. James held his sword steady, firmly in his left hand, his hook slightly hidden behind him. His eyes were cold as steel. At that moment, James appeared to be in complete control of his emotions and actions. Benedict couldn’t help but beam proudly at what he had done for James.
“What do I want?” Peter asked himself thoughtfully. He looked back at James, his eyes glowing faintly red. “I want you to pay,” but he stopped. “Then again, perhaps you are suffering a bit. After all, I’m finding your son to be a delicious addition to my lost boys.” He ended this with a slight hiss.
“I’ve done nothing to you,” James replied. “I believe you’re the one that will pay for taking my family.”
Benedict subtly moved closer to James. He could see how the boy was manipulating James, using the loss of Eileen and Robbie to rile him to the point of pure rage. Benedict knew all too well how easy it was to make James angry.
“Jas,” he said in quiet warning, seeing James’ shoulders rise and fall more frequently.
James voice wavered, “What are you?”
Benedict hesitated to offer his knowledge. What would it serve but to merely fan the flame the boy had started. Quietly he said to James, “Me thinks he’s Pete, a boy I met years ago. Feeds off humans.”
“Explain, please,” James murmured to Benedict, not taking his eyes off Peter.
“Not quite o’ changeling. Thought ta be mere legend, but I’d seen it with me own eyes. A powerful creature, though from what world, I’m not sure. Feeds off tha young, slow and sure ta stay alive. No doubt, yer boy be one he’s feedin’ on,” he explained.
Peter held a penetrating gaze at Benedict. “Oooohh. You’re a rather smart one, aren’t you? But I am at a disadvantage. You seem to know me, but I do not recognize you.” The boy’s face scrunched up in contemplation until he seemed to have an epiphany, “The one who set me free! You’re so…old!”
James looked over at the captain. “You set him free?” he whispered angrily. “Why am I not surprised?”
Benedict did his best to avoid eye contact. He knew he would have to explain all of this later. Perhaps he’ll forget. Not likely though.
“It’s true.” Peter said with a grinned. “I did feed on her. The red hair had to go.” He made a violent motion as he spoke.
“Jas,” Benedict warned, seeing James tense, the muscles in his jaw tightened.
James waved him off, stepping forward.
Peter continued. “Her white skin, so soft and supple. Her screams of terror and pain, delicious. Oh, she was wonderful!” He paused for a moment, then finished, “Particularly the chewy center within.” With the last sentence, his wicked eyes fell on James.
James screamed in anguish. He charged for Peter. Benedict reached out to stop him, but he was too slow. Peter flew up to the top of the mast. James, whose momentum had gotten the better of him, teetered at the rail. The crocodile waited eagerly below. James grunted in an effort to push himself back.
Peter howled in laughter, pointing, mocking and pantomiming actions as if he were James falling over the railing. James ran to the ropes, set to climb. Benedict shouted, but James didn’t hear. Not being heeded, he and a few crewmen pounced on him, holding him down.
“Take him ta me quarters!” he barked at the bo’sun. They held James, who thrashed violently. It took five men to drag James into the captain’s quarters and slam the doors shut. Benedict addressed Peter, “Ye best be leavin’ now, or ye be facin’ my wrath.”
Peter shrugged off the threat. “I have no quarrel with you, old man.” He jumped off the mast, floating high above. “Tell him I’ll be waiting, in Neverland.” And he flew off.
Benedict rubbed his sore eyes. “I’m gettin’ too old fer this.”
At his quarters, Benedict’s hand stopped at the door. James’ screams of rage could be heard from within. Benedict opted to take his time. Making a course adjustment, he continued towards El Tiburón.

Released

Footsteps on cobblestones echoed down the alleyways of small shops and homes. Within the darkness, Robert huffed and strained from exertion. He ran as fast as his legs could move him. Once he was just outside of the small seafaring town, he stopped and collapsed onto the ground trying desperately to catch his breath.
I’ve done it! he thought excitedly.
Robert could hardly believe he had stolen the unique weapon. But now what? If he returned to the ship, he would certainly be blamed for the knife’s disappearance, especially since he had no way of hiding it. How could he avoid punishment? There was no question. He could not, would not, go back to the Swallow. While hunched over, the snap of a twig close by caused him to freeze. Had the crew caught up with him? He waited as a few seconds crept by. Eventually, a boy of about twelve years of age stepped out of the darkness.
“Hullo,” the boy said nonchalantly.
“H-hello,” Robert stuttered, unsure of how to respond to this newcomer. Did he look guilty? He tried not to appear so. The boy could not possibly know what had just happened.
“Name’s Pete,” the street urchin said, scratching his face and, in the process, smudging more dirt across his cheek. Tufts of stiff and dirty blonde hair stuck out in all directions.
“Robert,” he responded with trepidation, especially since he now noticed a group of boys standing just within the edge of the darkness, their eyes shining from the moonlight.
“You alone?” the boy asked.
Robert was suspicious of the question and so lied. “No.” His lie was not convincing.
Pete smirked wickedly. “I think you are.” The tone in his voice was changing to something sweetly sinister.
Robert blinked. This stranger was threatening him. “Pete, was it?” he asked.
The young boy nodded.
“Ye best be leaving me alone.”
Pete’s laugh changed into a cackle. “Give me the bag, and I’ll consider it.”
Robert snorted in defiance as he stood up. His hand instinctively tightened its grip around the handle. The boys standing within the darkness stepped forward. The circle closed in around him. He was trapped. Despite the grim outlook, he would not give up. “Ye’ve been warned,” he said coolly. He pulled out the long knife. In one fluid movement, Robert unsheathed his weapon and pointed the tip towards Pete.
“’Ear that boys? We’ve been warned,” Pete said mockingly, staring with desire at the weapon before him. With a whistle, he commented, “That jewel looks to be worth the risk. Betcha it’ll take good care o’ me and tha boys. So be it!” he shouted as he pulled out a small dagger and lunged towards Robert, tapping the magic blade with his own.
The two weapons would have made for an impressive fight, if not for the inexperience and weak muscles of the fighters. A quiet tick of metal sounded as each barely hit the other’s blade. Eventually, both boys grew tired from the exertion.
Robert gained the advantage and the surrounding boys inched closer. Before he could do anything about it, they attacked, knocking him to the ground. The knife came to rest in front of Pete. Robert struggled to push the boys away and reclaim his prize, but Pete took advantage of the opportunity. Reaching for the knife, Pete’s hand hit the edge of the blade. It made a small cut into his palm. He pulled back for a moment, staring at the bleeding wound more from curiosity than pain.
Robert froze. His prized possession was in the hands of a stranger. “The Captain’s gonna kill me,” he mumbled.
While Pete was distracted, Robert noticed the blood seemed to move along the blade and disappear into the hilt of the knife, trickling into the blue orb. His eyes widened in amazement. Had he just seen that, or was his mind playing tricks on him? Suddenly, a gust of strong wind and a chilling howl wrapped around Pete.
Robert was startled, but it was the other boy who cried out in fear and pain. His body twisted and writhed as he fell to the ground. Maniacal laughter, all too familiar, filled the air. The remaining group of boys, having scattered from fear, let go of their prisoner. Robert scrambled back, putting some distance between himself and Pete. The disembodied laugh grew stronger.
Pete’s eyes were now glowing red. He heaved in deeply, the sound akin to a death rattle. As the wind swirled around him, he stood. A wicked impish grin was on his face. He let out a crow of triumph.
Robert stepped back in an attempt to leave. It could not get much worse than this, could it? I was wrong. The Captain isn’t going to kill me. Daria is definitely going to kill me, he thought.
Pete turned to Robert and smiled. “I must thank you for you have freed me.” His movements gave the impression he was stalking prey. “But I must ask for one favor more…your life.”
Eyes wide, Robert did the only thing a young boy could do when faced with a vengeful god: he ran. He did not stop. He did not look back. He needed to leave, to hide, and to forget what had happened. He would never tell Captain Davis, Daria, or anyone else, what he had done.

Words with the author

Tell us about your latest release and how we can find out more.

I read Peter Pan and watched the Disney movie I felt Captain Hook needed more to his back story than was revealed. Fans around me cheered for Peter Pan. I thought it odd, considering this young boy had, prior to the start of the story, cut off Hook’s hand and fed it to the crocodile. That was no action of an innocent boy. My mind began to weave a story for Hook, one where he originally was the good guy, a family man. Following the events of his first encounter with Pan, perhaps he had changed not only physically but mentally as well. And that is where we see the captain when J.M. Barrie’s story begins.

Are there any themes within the novel?

I delve into a lot of psychological issues. How would a man react if the very thing he values or loves is taken from him? Would he seek revenge? In this story, he does and falls into a bitter depression, which begins to change him. I asked myself if such a man would be able to pull himself out of that pit of depression and self-loathing if he were disfigured in the process.
One female character finds herself in a situation where she makes a rash decision based on passion and later regrets it. How does she handle the guilt and shame of such a decision?
There are a lot of things going on in the book, including adventure, romance, and time travel.

Did you have a favorite scene to write?

It was the fight scene between James and Robert, but since then, I think it has changed to the scene where Pan is attempting to kill Captain Benedict and Eileen interrupts him. I like that she’s able to handle herself in a crisis.

What do you see as influences on your writing style?

I’ve read all of the Sherlock Holmes stories, over and over and over. 🙂
I’m also really fond of Preston/Child’s Pendergast series. Ever since Relic, I’ve been hooked on reading any story with Special Agent Pendergast. Besides that, the writing style of Douglas Present and Lincoln Child always has me on the edge of my seat. That’s something I’m striving for.

What do you see as the biggest challenge for indie authors and what have you been doing to overcome that?

Marketing! I’ve never much cared for it, but it is an integral part of the entire process. And, I think it is really difficult for some authors to tout their own work. We need to get of the idea that it is bragging. It isn’t. You need to market not only the book, but you, the author. And that can be tough.

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Win $1000 Grand Prize and $20 monthly in Extaordinaryreads.com short story competition

Extaordinaryreads Short Story Competition. Win $1000 and $20 per month

Entry Rules

• Entries must be written in English.
• Entries should be between 500 – 5000 words long.
• Entries must be suitable for a family-friendly audience, so, they should not include excessive violence or graphically sexual content. If the piece is only suitable for adult eyes the work must include an over eighteen rating, and as such may be disqualified, based on the level of adult content.
• Entries may be of any genre.
• Winning entries will be selected by popularity. The story with the highest rating and number of votes, wins. If there is a tie the web mistress, Susan Hern, will choose the winner between the entrants.
• All announced results must be considered final, and no correspondence will be entered into.
• Entrants must be older than thirteen.
• There is no entry fee, but those entries, which include the code published in the website’s magazine ‘The Fresh Voice’, which is on sale at the links below for $0.99, will receive much higher prize payouts.
  Prizes are as follows
  1. First place, $800 if the entry is accompanied by the competition code to be found in The Fresh Voice Magazine(amazon or Smashwords $0.99 or get a free copy by signing up for extaordinaryreads’ newsletter http://www.extaordinaryreads.com/newsletter.php ), $100 if it is not.
  2. Second place $150 if accompanied by magazine code, $10 if it is not.
  3. Third place, $50 if accompanied by magazine code, one years magazine subscription if not
  4. Fourth, fifth and sixth places: entries will be published, along with the other winners, in an anthology. The entrants will receive 80% (after retailer’s commission) of all sales from Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Smashwords, Kobo, iBooks, Google Play, Goodreads, Scribd, iTunes and various other digital retail book platforms. The book will also be published in paper back, for distribution to the American market, by Create Space. The publishing contract will include, proofreading, editing, book formatting, cover art and advertising and distribution.
  5. All winners receive the publishing package described above.
  6. One winning story will be published in the magazine ‘The Fresh Voice’, monthly.
  7. The competition is open from the 29th of April 2014, and runs until, 29th of April 2015(or until at least 1000 entries have been received). Monthly, winners will also be selected by the voters, and those winners will receive a $20 Amazon book voucher monthly
  8. A list of winners will be published on Our Newsletter page and in the magazine ‘The Fresh Voice’, monthly.
• Entries must be uploaded on site using the webform provided on the members page. Membership is free and always will be sign up here Register or Login
• Entries are available for all to read and vote on, instantly after upload on site.
• Entries may be viewed in highest-to-lowest popularity(based on ratings), or newest-to-oldest.
• Entries must be accompanied by cover art (black and white is preferable ), the image must be 500 px wide by 700 px long, and will be reduced to this size if larger. Entries will be disqualified if not accompanied by a cover image which must include a pen name.(not the entrants real name)
• Winners will be notified by email.
• The magazine prize enhancement code may be added to entries at any time during the first month of publication, and does not have to be included on upload
• Entries must be the original work of the author, and may not be available elsewhere in digital format, other than the author’s blog.
• Staff, owners or affiliates of extaordinaryreads may enter the competition as examples of stories required but may not win any prizes despite their voter status (eg:-Nora Black)

Magazine Retail sites from 5th of May

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Turning Curse Blog Tour

About the book

Irresponsible was one word used to describe Prince Liam. Liam preferred fun-loving. After years of pulling pranks on his fellow nobles and ruining balls, Liam’s prospects for a bride are looking dim. At his wits’ end, Liam’s father arranges a marriage between Liam and his best friend Cordelia. She is the last person in the world Liam wants to marry. When Liam confesses this to her, she transforms Liam with a curse.

Now Liam must escape her clutches while breaking her spell, but he is trapped in her castle with no way to escape. His only hope is to persuade Cordelia’s servant Gabrielle to help him. However, Gabrielle has a secret of her own, and helping Liam is something she cannot do.

About the author

A.C. Harrah has a B.A. with an Emphasis in Creative Writing and Japanese. Due to her love of writing, A.C. tends to chain herself to her computer, but when she does sneak out it’s usually to frolic on the beach or see the latest super hero movie. Oh, and travel. She would happily live out of a backpack if it meant exploring the world.

One of her favorite authors is Lewis Carroll.

Excerpt

The rain misted. Gabrielle held out her hand, letting the water kiss her palm. She looked up at the night sky and closed her eyes. The soft touch of the rain against her skin was refreshing. For a few moments there was nothing but Gabrielle and the cool night. She smiled then dropped to her knees. She buried in her hands in the moist earth as she hunted worms.
Something pink wiggled between her fingers, and she pinched it. The worm squirmed. She dropped it into her blue jar. She corked it as she continued to search for more. Liam hadn’t jumped higher than the ball, but after his collision and Cordelia’s temper, he deserved a little treat. She just wished the fireflies were out tonight. He never said it, but she had a feeling that he liked those best.
She found two more worms and pocketed the jar. She stood and looked around. Her eyes rested on the stable.
Liam’s words echoed in her head.
She knew she shouldn’t… but she couldn’t resist.
She hurriedly tiptoed toward the stables. She unlatched the front doors and pushed them aside. A horse neighed. Her shoulders pressed together. When no one jumped out to stop her, she went inside. She searched a wall for a sack and found one for feeding. She snatched it then entered one horse’s stall.
The horse shook its head, causing its mane swipe the air. It snorted and edged away as Gabrielle ventured into the back of the stall. The stall was clean, so she went to another. It wasn’t until her fourth try that she found a horse with a fresh deposit.
She pinched her nose and turned the sack inside out. She stuffed her hand into the bag and dove into the feces. A lump of disgust formed in her throat. Even through the sack she could feel that the waste was still warm. It broke apart easily in her hands. She shoved down her nausea and turned the sack inside out again, trapping the dung inside while keeping her hands clean. She tied a knot at the top of the bag and erased any sign that she had been in the stables before she left.
She entered the castle and took the left stairs to the servants’ quarters. Laughter escaped the common room where the servants went after work to relax and have fun. They shared stories and tips for cooking and cleaning with the occasional gossip. Excitement raced through her; she couldn’t wait to join them.
She went a little farther down the corridor to Lucinda’s room. There was nothing remarkable the door, so Gabrielle had to count off the plain, wooden doors to make sure she had the right one. She opened the door to Lucinda’s room; she knew the woman would either be cleaning up after supper or would be eating her own meal.
Lucinda’s room wasn’t very different from Gabrielle’s. Every servant had a small room with a cot. Some servants bought dressers, but others kept their things in baskets; she had learned the basket owners were the ones who didn’t stay long. Lucinda had a dresser with a straw doll and a bible on top.
Gabrielle picked up the doll. She would have never guessed Lucinda had such a toy. She returned it to the dresser.
She grabbed Lucinda’s pillowcase. With two vigorous shake pillow flopped out. She opened the bag of feces and gagged on the putrid smell. Lucinda would probably smell it before her head touched the fluffy head cushion. Even so, Gabrielle was certain Lucinda wouldn’t check the pillow; no one ever suspects the pillow. She shook the excrement into the pillowcase then stuffed the cushion inside.
She dashed out the bedroom and into the common room. The fireplace burned, casting shadows against the walls. Ronan, Albert, and Daniel laughed boisterously in front of the fire. Melinda and Warren chatted in the corner—lovebirds. Fiona, Isabella, and Mackenzie huddled together, drank ale, and sang a song about a man shipped off for a murder he did not commit. Thomas sat in a rickety, old chair, teaching Samuel how to read. Marina danced with Eric, and Oliver played a jaunty tune on his flute.
“Gabrielle!” Marina gasped and twirled out of Eric’s hold.
“Come join us.” She took Gabrielle’s hand and spun her into Eric.
Gabrielle laughed, laid her hands on Eric’s chest, and pushed away. She hiked up her skirts and jigged to the upbeat tune. Marina mimicked her.
“Now that isn’t very nice,” Eric chuckled, his cheeks flushed from dancing. “I thought you and I were having a wonderful time.”
“You’re being too sensitive, Eric,” Marina said as she pranced toward him, taking his hand in hers. He spun her around then latched their elbows together. They bounced and twirled.
Gabrielle hopped on the balls of her feet. She jumped into the air with a kick and clapped her hands. She spun, and Thomas was suddenly there. He linked his elbow wither hers. More of the servants joined, and she passed between them. The older ones lined the room and clapped out the beat. They laughed whenever someone fumbled, but then were quick to cheer the person on.
Gabrielle was breathless and hot. Sweat dripped down her forehead and armpits, but she loved the thrill of the dance too much to care. She brushed her bangs out her face as she was passed to Ronan.
A scream pierced the air.
Everyone stopped.
Lucinda burst into the room. Her plump cheeks were ruby with fury, and her brown strands whipped around her face like snakes. The thin, blue veins on her neck throbbed. She thrust her pillow up for all to see and pinched her nose.
“Who did this?” she shrieked.
“Did what?” asked Albert. He walked up to her and stopped two steps short of her. He covered his nose and waved his hand. “What is that stench?”
“Shit!” Lucinda screeched.
A few of the younger servants snickered, including Gabrielle.
“It’s not funny.” Lucinda stormed up to Eric and pinched his ear. “How would you like it if you just finished working, wanted to go to bed, and then found shit in your pillow?”
More snickers.
Eric yanked free of her and rubbed his ear. “Use your spare clothes as a pillow. You can wash it tomorrow.”
“I want it washed now!” Lucinda stomped her foot. “Now who did it?”
No one answered.
Lucinda scanned the room. She looked at them as if they were all murderers. Her gaze landed on Gabrielle and narrowed. She shoved her way to Gabrielle. She shook the putrid pillowcase in Gabrielle’s face. “You.” She seized Gabrielle’s arm. Sharp nails dug into Gabrielle’s skin.
Gabrielle winced.
Lucinda tugged her forward. “You clean this up now.”
“Stop it, Lucinda,” Marina pushed her way out of the crowd. “You’ve been picking on Gabrielle, and you are just using this as an excuse to do it again.”
“She’s the one who did this.”
Warren pulled himself away from Melinda. “What’s your evidence?”
“Who else would do it?”
“That’s not evidence,” Marina rebuked.
Lucinda looked between Gabrielle and the crowd of angry faces. She released Gabrielle. “Fine.” She spun, slamming the door behind her as she left.
Gabrielle rubbed her abused arm.
Murmurs about Lucinda’s pillowcase floated in the air. The older servants looked at her suspiciously. Some of the younger ones also eyed her with curiosity, but most chattered amicably with one another.
Marina approached Gabrielle. “Are you all right?” She reached to touch Gabrielle’s arm. Gabrielle jerked away.
Gabrielle forced a smile. “It’s a little sore, but should be fine by tomorrow.”
Marina frowned. “Are you sure?”
Gabrielle nodded.
Marina lowered her hand and tossed a glance at the servants eyeing Gabrielle. She stepped closer to Gabrielle and whispered, “If it was you, you should avoid doing anything else to Lucinda. She is not the most well liked, but some people are a little too high on their moral horse. You might get in trouble.”
Gabrielle nodded. “I think I’ll go to bed now.”
Marina stepped away. “Goodnight then.”
Gabrielle smiled and waved. “Goodnight to you too.” She ignored the stares of others and gently closed the door behind her as she left. Once outside, her knees felt weak. She gripped the doorknob for support. She collapsed against the door and raised her head to the ceiling. Giddiness danced through her veins. She grinned like a fool. Lucinda would make her life miserable for the next few days, but the look of absolute horror and disgust on her face had given Gabrielle a high she hadn’t felt in months. The rush and thrill was worth it.
She pranced down the hall and twirled.
She had to do it again.

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Proofreading:- An Author’s Dilemma!

Despite each emerging author’s initial confidence in their ability to proofread and/ or edit their own work, there comes a time when the truth stares starkly back at them from their own pages, and it’s more than likely not the pretty sight they had envisaged.

As an author, you might be re-reading a paragraph down the line that you believed to be perfect and find it, literally, unreadable. If you are one of the lucky ones — to get the manuscript picked up by an agent or publisher–you will be fortunate enough to get your work polished by professional copy writers and editors. Nevertheless, the less presentable your book is, the less chance you will have of getting it through the tight doors of international publishing. It’s a catch twenty two situation, really, you need your book to be ‘discovered’ in order to benefit from professional services, but you are unlikely to get it ‘picked up’ unless you do a good job of imitating those services before you send it to the publishing fraternity. Furthermore, most authors do not have deep enough pockets before they hook-up with an agent or publisher to afford the top notch service providers of the literary world, many of whom charge by the word and will not guarantee a perfect product if engaged freelance–due, they say, to the nature of the craft.

So then what is the aspiring writer to do?

Here are a few tips and tricks each author could employ to improve their raw manuscript.

• Let it Rest- Put the manuscript down, leave it untouched for a couple of days then re-read it, you will be surprised at the benefit a little distance can bring to the desk.
• Involve your trusted family members and your pals-Get your family and friends to read the book. Even unprofessional eyes can pick up errors, especially editing problems, such as discrepancies in plot sequences and traits assigned to characters. A good example is one I can take from my own novel. I had an evening scene in which one of my characters were injured and rushed to hospital. In the following chapter, obviously still in the evening, I described the sunlight dappling interesting patterns on the doctors face as he spoke to my character’s wife. I had written the second scene after a weeks break(not really an excuse, but it happens to every author, believe me!), my mom picked up the discrepancy (thankfully!). You will find yourself beholden to their fresh perspective. Also, you might find their honesty really helpful, few care as much as those closest to you so don’t skip this opportunity.
• Use a Spellchecker- This may seem obvious, but it can be time consuming and difficult to spell check a document as long as, say, 100 000 words. Check one chapter at a time, and be consistent about using American or British spelling.
• Use online proofing software programs- Although these tools rarely point out typos they can be invaluable for picking up grammatical errors such as ‘Passive Voice’, double negatives, incorrect punctuation and holes in the overall standard of writing. Some discover words that are repeated too frequently, and some offer improved sentence structure for you to accept or reject as you wish. Once again checking an entire manuscript can be an onerous task, but if done in batch form the end result is certainly an improved product. Paper Rater is a good online proofreading service and it’s free.
• Use your computer’s ‘text to speech’ program to listen to your book- This is simply the single most valuable thing you can do for your work. While listening, you will hear all the typos, typos that may be missed by even the most trained professional eye. It will also give you clues on improving your word flow, sentence structure and punctuation. I cannot stress the value of any tool more. You will be amazed at the number of errors you will hear, and the manner in which it will improve your work.
• Ask any professionals in the field to help you- Don’t be shy, if you still have contact will an ex-teacher or lecturer, ask for help! You might find yourself surprised by their encouragement and their respect at the fact that you actually completed a novel!

Hopefully these few pointers will assist. Good luck!

30 Days No Gossip Blog Tour

Blurb

Can a middle school gossip queen change her ways, or will she lose her BFF for good? Find out in this M!X original novel.

Maddie Evans prides herself on being the gossip queen of Troy Middle School. She is the first person her classmates go to when they need the latest news on the ins-and-outs of TMS—and Maddie never disappoints.

Her best friend since birth, Vi, isn’t crazy about Maddie’s penchant for passing on rumors, but it’s never been an issue in their friendship. Until the day Maddie lets slip who Vi is crushing on—in front of her crush.

Vi is furious, and she confronts Maddie with an ultimatum: no gossip for 30 days, or twelve years of sisterhood goes down the drain.

Biography Stephanie Faris

Stephanie Faris knew she wanted to be an author from a very young age. In fact, her mother often told her to stop reading so much and go outside and play with the other kids. After graduating from Middle Tennessee State University she somehow found herself working in information technology. But she never stopped writing. When she isn’t crafting fiction, Stephanie is indulging her gadget geek side by writing for online technology sites. She lives in Nashville with her husband.

excerpt

CHAPTER ONE

The key to being a good gossip is timing. You have to get the story before anyone else and tell everyone you can before it becomes news.

I’m always the girl who knows first. As editor of The Troy Tattler, Troy Middle School’s unofficial gossip newsletter, I consider it my job. I get the scoop, write it up, and hand it out in front of the cafeteria before school. My BFF Vi—short for Vivienne—thinks I’m just asking for trouble. She prefers to stay to herself. But I can’t help but notice she always sticks around whenever I have news to report.

“Kelsey is mad,” I said at lunch. Sydney and Jessica were hanging on my every word. Vi was spooning applesauce into her mouth while pretending not to listen. “Kelsey told Emma in secret that she likes Aiden, but now everyone knows.”

“Wait,” Jessica said, setting down her roll. It landed on her tray with a thunk. “Who likes Aiden?”

“Emma,” Sydney interjected. She rolled her eyes and turned back to me. “Go on.”

“Actually, Kelsey likes Aiden,” I continued. “Emma told everyone. That’s why Kelsey’s mad.”

I didn’t add the words ‘keep up’ because that would be rude, but sheesh. Did I have to draw a road map for these people?
Ooh, what a great idea! I grabbed my pen, opened my notebook and hastily jotted an idea for a cute drawing in the next issue of The Troy Tattler. Maybe it could even become a regular thing. A gossip cycle. I could draw arrows and cartoon stick people to illustrate the whole ‘Kelsey likes Aiden who likes Sarah who likes Trevor’ thing. I wasn’t a very good artist so I might need to get someone to help—

“Maddie?”

That was Sydney, calling me back to earth. I slapped my notebook shut, set my pen on top, and turned my attention back to my tuna sandwich. We were only allowed thirty-five minutes for lunch so I had to make it count. That meant I had to squeeze at least one piece of gossip in between each bite of sandwich.

Today I’d have to take smaller bites.

“So what’s the deal with the field trip?” Sydney prompted.

Oh, that. I chewed as quickly as I could and swallowed. I needed a drink of water but I had to get this one little piece of info out first.

“It’s still on, but Kelsey’s sitting at the back of the bus.”

Vi shook her head. I saw it out of the corner of my eye. She had to do that, though. It was her job. I gossiped and she played the disapproving best friend. It had been like that since elementary school.

That, in a nutshell, was why Vi and I were so good together. Our moms were in the same room at the hospital when we were being born and we ended up in bassinets next to each other in the nursery. I guess the whole thing bonded our moms to each other because they became BFFs in the way moms become BFFs, which basically means they get together every weekend and talk about mom stuff while telling us to go outside and play so we can’t hear what they’re saying.

Anyway, Vi and I ended up being like sisters. So even though she’s quiet and shy and not at all into being part of the whole gossip thing, she’s still the best friend I’ve ever had. Besides, being friends with me means she gets to hear everything that’s going on before anyone else.

“How on earth do you find out all this stuff?” Jessica asked. I could hear the awe in her voice.

I shrugged. “I’m good” was all I said. That’s all they needed to know.

The truth was, all I did was listen. You’d be amazed what you can find out just by watching and listening. Most of the time, people were surprisingly unguarded about what they said, especially when they were upset. I could stand at my locker and overhear six juicy conversations without even trying.

“So,” Vi broke in, drawing everyone’s attention to her end of the table. “Is everyone ready for the math midterm?”

Midterms. The very subject I didn’t want to talk about right now. It was the biggest exam so far that year and I’d done my best to study. But I’d also been working on the Tattler, which meant splitting my attention between studying and writing gossip. So, the answer was no. I wasn’t ready.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Sydney said. “I want to know what Kelsey thinks sitting at the back of the bus on the way to Four Cedars Park will do. Aiden will be in the front with Sarah—”

“And Emma,” I broke in to say.

“But Aiden likes Sarah,” Sydney corrected.

“Sarah’s taken.”

Vi was the one who said that. We all turned to look at her.

She sighed and set her sandwich down. “Sarah’s going out with Trevor Finn.” She looked at me. “Remember?”

Of course, I remembered. It was the first piece of gossip I’d delivered to the school at large. It was the very thing that had given me the ‘queen of gossip’ title for which I was now unofficially known.

I’d found out about Sarah and Trevor the same way I found out about everything: I paid attention. It was at the spring social, where everyone was more interested in what kind of ice cream was being handed out than what was going on in the bleachers just a few feet away. But I was watching.

Toward the back of the bleachers, I saw Sarah and Trevor talking and holding hands when they thought no one was looking. By the next morning, thanks to me, Sarah Dooley and Trevor Finn were officially a couple.

I consider it a favor, really.

“Can we get back to the exam?” Vi asked, even though she had to know none of us would want to talk about math when the subject of Trevor Finn, the number one cutest guy in seventh grade, was so much more interesting.

“I say we get on the bus before Trevor does and get a seat near him,” Jessica suggested.

“How can we do that?” Sydney asked. “He’s not on there yet, so we won’t know where he’ll sit. Right?”

She looked at me for that last word. I should have an answer for that. They’d expect me to know some dirt on Trevor at this point. I didn’t have anything on him. I made a mental note to try to catch up with him after fifth period to see if I could overhear anything.

“Easy,” Vi said.

Again, we all turned to look at her. She was chattier than usual today. I figured this time she’d start talking about math again.

“Maddie and I have been riding the bus with him since first grade,” Vi began, frowning at her sandwich before setting it down, folding her hands in front of her, and looking at us. “Based on his past behavior, he’ll sit in the front two rows. We’ll be safe by staying in the third row. The second row would be too far forward.”

See? Math.

After a long, awkward silence, Jessica took a deep breath and continued. “So what’s the deal with Travis Fisher?”

That loud gulp we all heard came from Vi’s direction. Jess and Syd turned to look at her, but I kept my gaze firmly planted on the two of them. They weren’t supposed to know Vi liked Travis. It was the one secret I’d been pinky-sworn to since third grade, when he’d rescued her lunch sack from the hands of a couple of bullies and become her real-life superhero. I had a feeling Jessica and Sydney had figured it out, though. The way Vi was always staring at him all moony-eyed when he passed, they’d have to be blind not to have noticed.

“I don’t know anything about Travis Fisher.”

They both turned and looked at me. Hey, at least I’d taken their attention from Vi. Now I had to scramble to come up with something else to say.

“I heard he might be kicked off the football team.” Jessica shrugged. “He has to pick his grades up in history or he’s…”

“History,” Sydney added. They both giggled.

I glanced over at Vi. She was good at disguising what she was thinking, which was completely the opposite of me.

People could read my thoughts right on my face. Kimberly Browning had told me that about Travis in first period, but I’d been keeping it to myself. My goal had been to tell Vi at the right time, but I guess it was too late now. Jessica and Sydney had delivered the bad news in their own cutesy way.

At the end of lunch, Jessica and Sydney took off ahead of us out of the cafeteria, giving me a few much-needed minutes alone with Vi. I had to get a feel for how she was feeling before I rushed off to my next class, otherwise it would be bugging me for the next hour.

“You okay?” I asked as we tossed our trash into the nearby garbage and wove our way through the exiting crowd.

She broke out into a smile and nodded.

I stopped walking and turned to stare at her. “Wait, you’re happy?”

She nodded again, this time even more enthusiastically. Maybe there was some other piece of news I’d missed. I waited for her to clarify. In typical Vi style, though, she just kept walking with that big cheesecake-eating grin on her face. I’d have to dig it out of her.

I chased after her, following her through the cafeteria doors and out into the hallway. If there was one thing I could do well, it was dig information out of people. But Vi wasn’t like ordinary people. Vi was secretive.

All the way to her locker, I tried to get it out of her. She was still smiling, but not talking. I tried guessing, begging, and reminding her that I was her best friend in the whole wide world. Finally it became clear. I’d have to go for bribery.

“Fine,” I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest and leaning against the locker next to hers. “I’ll help you with your room.”

I knew that would do it. Vi lit up. She turned and looked at me, her eyes all sparkly.

“Really? You’d do that?”

She seemed to realize what she’d have to do to get me to do that and deflated a little. Not completely, though.

Decorating was important to Vi. You could say it was her hobby, like The Troy Tattler is my hobby. She somehow turned decorating into smart stuff, though, carefully calculating every square inch of her bedroom and drawing exactly what she’d be doing with that inch. It meant so much to Vi, helping her with her room would be like her writing a column for the Tattler.

I felt a little stab of guilt that I was only offering to help Vi to get some info out of her. But, seriously. We’re talking weeks of listing to words like “geometric design” and “optimized space.” Compared to other people, I was average, but compared to Vi and her ten-ton brain, I was completely clueless.

“Okay,” she agreed. “I’ll tell you. But you can’t tell anyone.”

There was a reason Vi said things like that. One of the downfalls of being the gossip queen of Troy Middle School was that sometimes I got the feeling people didn’t want to tell me things. Actually, it wasn’t even a feeling. People stopped talking when they saw me walking by and even my friends—the people who were supposed to trust me more than anything—would start to say something, look at me, and clamp their mouths shut.

Which is why I had to be extra-good at eavesdropping.

“I don’t tell anyone anything you tell me,” I told Vi. That wasn’t entirely true and she knew it. I just hoped she wouldn’t point out the time I let it slip that she still slept with her childhood teddy bear in front of everyone in gym class.

Luckily, she was too caught up in her excitement to worry about that. She closed her locker and leaned in close to tell me her secret.

“I figure it’s like this.” Vi‘s voice was barely above a whisper. “Travis is off the football team, right?”

I nodded, even though we weren’t sure about that. Sometimes you just had to go with a rumor.

“If he’s off the team, I might have a chance,” Vi said. From the look on my face, she probably got that I wasn’t following. “He might like me back.”

I looked around. The halls were crowded, reminding me just how hard it was to stand out around here. It didn’t help that Vi was so shy. She barely talked to anyone but me. Any friends I had became friends of hers, too.

There was no way Travis would just start noticing her, even if he was off the football team.

Which was silly, because Vi was pretty. Even a popular guy like Travis Fisher would like her. If only he knew she existed.
It was like a light bulb went off inside my head. That was my job. As her friend, it was my duty to get through to Travis for her.

I knew she’d freak out if I told her I planned to say something. But I could already imagine the look on her face when I told her he liked her too. At that point, she’d forgive me for giving her secret away.

Interview

• Tell us a little about 30 Days of No Gossip. What makes Maddie’s story so special?

• I think gossip is a topic we all grapple with, no matter how old we are. We think it’s something that will end once we reach adulthood, but then we find ourselves gathered around the water cooler at the office, talking about our co-workers or last night’s episode of our favorite reality show.

• Do you think reading 30 Days will cause young girls to stop and think about what they’re saying about others?

• I do. During the course of the book, Maddie is forced to face some harsh realities about the things she says about other people–and why she says them. When she has information no one else has, people like her. It makes her more popular. But her best friend gives her a real reality check about the things she’s saying about other people.

• What advice do you have for aspiring authors?

• After nearly two decades of writing books and trying to get them published, I think I’ve become the poster child for perseverance! Every writer’s journey is different, so I think it’s important for a writer to follow her own heart and try not to pay too much attention to what other writers are doing. But it’s also important to keep trying, no matter how many rejections pile up or how many editors and agents say, “no.” It just takes one “yes!”

• What advice do you give young readers who want to write someday?

• Read, read, read. I know every writer says that, but it couldn’t be more true. I’d tell adult authors the same thing! The more we read, the more we are able to learn the basic elements of a story. When you combine avid reading with daily writing, eventually the process of creating a novel becomes to feel natural.

• Did you know you wanted to be a writer from a young age?

• I always wanted to become a writer, but I wasn’t sure I had the talent. Like acting, singing, or painting, natural talent is part of it. You can hone that talent by working hard, but it’s important that the natural ability be there. Looking back, though, I was spending more time reading than doing anything else when I was in elementary school. I also began writing poetry when I was twelve. It was bad poetry, but I can look back now and see the passion behind the words I was writing.

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The Siblings Blog Tour

Pitch

College boy Kevin Banovic’s casual affair with Savi DaCosta suited him perfectly. Things change when he finds out that Savi is his mom’s high school bestie. When Kevin tries to end their affair, Savi blackmails him. After Kevin rescues Savi’s stepdaughter, L’Wren, from her abusive boyfriend, he can’t stop thinking about her. He must find a way to handle Savi, protect L’Wren, and keep his sanity.

Bad girl Adriana Banovic is pleased with herself for getting her nemesis expelled from Westwood Academy. As feelings between her and her latest victim Haze Lyndon escalate, an unexpected rival discovers her secret and threatens to expose her. With emotions on the line, will her new rival beat her at her own game or end up another casualty of Adrian’s wrath?

Zax Banovic has it all. Tall and handsome, he’s an academic genius, with a killer smile and a heart of gold. When his best friend gets into trouble, he feels responsible and covers for him. But his best friend is not as honorable and has other plans for Zax.

The Banovic Siblings learn that blackmail is a gift that keeps on giving. This is the second book in the Family Portrait novel series.

If you like shows like the original Melrose Place, Beverly Hills 90210 and Nashville, where the guys and girls are hot and the schemes are hotter, you will like The Banovic Siblings.

Author Details

Biography

Gillian Felix has been writing since she was old enough to hold a pencil. She enjoys creating characters that could be your next-door neighbor, but would you want them as your neighbor is another story.

Originally from the island republic of Trinidad and Tobago, Miss Felix moved to the United States in 1998. Since then she has been involved in the entertainment industry for over ten years. Her experience ranges from script supervisor to production manager on many independent features. She is trained in the Meisner and Stanislavski technique of acting, which she credits as an asset to her character development and writing.

Miss Felix is also an entrepreneur and advocate for children’s and women’s rights.

Excerpt

L’Wren entered Bacchanal Jake’s with two of her girlfriends. While their intention was to have fun and enjoy the attention of guys, her mission was to see Kevin Banovic again. She knew he worked there and, without alerting her friends to her plan, casually chose Jake’s as the hangout spot for the evening.

She hated the way they’d left things. Why did she care what he thought of her? He was just some guy “some guy who cared enough to stand up for her and got hurt in the process. She carried around immense guilt, and he’d made her feel worst when she tried to apologize. She had no idea what she was going to say to him. She just knew that she had to see him again.

They ordered drinks and found a booth. L’Wren’s eyes combed the room, her breath unsteady, her palms sweaty and her stomach in knots. Maybe he had the night off.

L’Wren’s friends noticed her distraction.

“Hey, what’s going on with you?” one friend asked.

“Nothing.” She smiled nervously.

A couple of guys came over with drinks for the girls. They began chatting them up. L’Wren was not interested. She just smiled and nodded and kept an eye out for Kevin.

Her hopes began to fade after an hour. L’Wren was about ready to leave when she spotted Kevin. She took a deep breath. The air in the room was getting tight again. She watched as he flirted with a woman at the bar. The scene reminded her of Tom Cruise in the movie Cocktail, minus the bar theatrics.

She felt a twinge in the pit of her stomach that surprised her. The guy next to her said something, but she didn’t hear him. Her mind was focused on Kevin. Mentally she tried to muster courage and find something to say to him.

Her legs felt heavy as she stood and walked over to the bar. With every step her heart pounded harder and faster. As she got closer, she straightened her spine, lifted her head, and steadied her breath. She walked straight towards the end of the bar where he stood still chatting up the brunette, who looked like she was ready to ravish him. Kevin said something to her, and she smiled, then tossed her long mane, retrieved her cell phone, and touched hers with his.

Kevin stood up and looked at L’Wren. The brunette shot her a menacing look.

“What can I get you?” he asked as if she was a complete stranger.

“I just thought I’d come over and introduce myself,” she heard herself say. New-formed confidence took over. “Hi, I’m L’Wren.” She extended her arm.

The brunette’s eyes switched between them. She eventually walked away without saying a word.

“What are you doing?” Kevin asked.

“Starting over.”

Kevin was unsure where she was going with this but played along. “Kevin, nice to meet you.” He gently shook her hand.

“I’d like a martini, please. Shaken not stirred.” She perched herself on the bar stool.

They looked at each other for a moment, and then started to laugh at the obvious James Bond reference.

It was late when L’Wren’s friends said their goodbyes and left her at the bar.

Kevin served drinks, and then returned his attention to her.

It was last call when Kevin walked her to her car. “You okay to drive, or should I call for a cab?”

“Kevin,” she leaned in close to him, “when you weren’t looking, I ordered diet Sprite from the other bartender.”
“What about the martini?”

“I don’t drink martinis. I sent it to my girlfriend.”

“Oh, I feel so duped, seriously?”

She nodded affirmative.

“Since we’re confessing, I saw you the minute you walked into Jake’s.”

“Liar! You were nowhere around.”

“I was in the back room — I wanted to see if you were waiting for someone.”

“I don’t believe you. You can’t stand to be duped.” She laughed.

Kevin watched her as she got into her white Prius V and drove away.

L’Wren looked at him in the rearview mirror and smiled. That turned out better than she’d expected.

As she pulled into her driveway, she hummed Kokoma, the theme song from Cocktail. The house was dark, and she knew no one was home. Leighann had gone to the game with Zax, and who knew where Savi was. L’Wren smiled as she thought about Zax and Leighann. Those Banovic boys had charm. If Zax was anything like his brother, Leighann was a lucky girl. Just then she heard footsteps and turned around quickly.

“Jeff! You scared me.” She playfully punched him.

“Hey, baby.” He kissed her. “Here let me.” He took the keys and opened the door for her.

They began turning on the lights.

“I didn’t t realize we were supposed to get together tonight,”� she said, feeling uneasy.

“Do I need an appointment to see my girl?”

“No! if I knew you were coming over, I would have gotten here sooner.” She busied herself in the kitchen.

“Where were you?”

“Traffic on the 405 was a bitch.”

“Where did you say you were again?”

“Out with a couple of friends. No place special.”

“You could have called me. I would have gone to no place special with you.”

“Jeff, we talked about this. You can’t have a cow every time I go out with my friends.”

“You never invite me anywhere with your friends. Are you ashamed of me?” Jeff towered over her.

“Don’t be silly. It was just us girls. None of them had their boyfriends with them.”
“Did you have a good time?”

“Yes.” She tried to walk away from him, but she was trapped between the counter and Jeff.

He boxed her in with his arms. “Did guys hit on you?”

“What? No.” She tried to move his arm, but it was firmly planted against the counter. “Why don’t we go in the living room and talk,” she suggested, trying to sound calm.

“Why can’t you look me in the eye and tell me that guys didn’t hit on you?”�

“Jeff, I think you should leave.”

“Is he coming over? Is that why you want me to leave?” Jeff raised his voice.

L’Wren knew what was coming next. She braced herself for him to either punch her in the gut or pull her hair. He wouldn’t slap her face; he didn’t like to leave visual bruises. He couldn’t have his friends know that he beat up on his girlfriend. He was quarterback of the football team and had a reputation to uphold. She gripped the counter as he yanked on her hair, tugging her head back, causing her to bump her head on the overhead cupboard.

“I have absolutely no qualms about putting a bullet through your brain right now,” Savi said calmly.

Jeff turned around to face the business end of Savi’s shiny silver revolver. L’Wren gasped. Something in her eyes told him that she meant it.

“As far as I’m concerned, you broke into my daughter’s house. I came home and found you roughing her up — a plausible story — for the police.”

Jeff held her gaze.

She clicked the gun. “Bounce.”

Jeff did as he was told. Savi walked out behind him and locked the door. L’Wren was still shivering in the kitchen.

“Where do you find those losers?” Savi asked casually. She set the gun down on the counter and poured herself a glass of wine.

L’Wren stared at the gun. She had never seen one up close before. “Why do you have a gun?”

“Target practice.” Savi drank the wine and poured another. This time she also poured a glass for L’Wren, whose hands were shaking so badly that she could barely hold the glass.

“I don’t want to be around it.”

“Then move out.” Savi picked up the offending object and walked out into the living room.

L’Wren followed. “This is my house. You’re a guest.”

Savi placed the gun in her Dior handbag.

“What if Leighann finds it?” L’Wren continued.

“It’s not a dildo, for Christ’s sake.” Savi headed to her room and shut the door.

A Deep And Gorgeous Thirst

A Deep and Gorgeous Blog Tour

Pitch

A 3-point pitch, why I truly believe this book can reach a few new readers who otherwise never considered themselves fans of poetry: First: It’s about drinking! The good, the bad, and the ugly of it. The raucous, drunken, mad, idiotic, regrettable, and joyous escapades. And I truly believe that, if your thirst is as deep and gorgeous as mine, if you and your friends have a few drunken tales of your own, then this book will be a helluva lot of fun. Second: It’s not about drinking at all. I mean, yeah, sure, every poem has booze in it, but it merely serves as the lens through which a much bigger, more complex tapestry is woven. This book, like all art really, is about just two things: love and death, that profoundly joyous and terrible human predicament. The booze is just easier to see! Look deeper and you’ll find a book that is vulnerable and tortured, lost and confused, and in the next turn crazy, cackling, swaggering, and unhinged. The final result is a fractured, poetic mosaic– a spiritual journey that has walked through the existential Badlands and forged, from them, a proud, hard-won redemption. Lastly: It’s funny! Its like a fortune cookie my brother once chose: “If you can’t laugh at your own life, then it isn’t much.” Damn straight. All these stories testify to the utter jackassery we are all (hopefully) capable of. “Some people never go crazy,” says Bukowski, “what truly horrible lives they must lead.” So, if you’ve ever been drunk, if you’ve ever been insane, or lost, or too loud; if you’ve ever been lusty, or desperate; if you’ve ever been a little salty with authority; if you’ve ever struggled with love or no love; if you’ve done something you regret, or wished you’d done a helluva lot more to regret– you’ll find something hilarious and familiar in this book. And, sure, poetry isn’t everyone’s thing, but this is as approachable as poetry gets. There’s nothing terribly pompous or exclusionary, nothing opaque, or snooty. It’s a humble, human book, a book to laugh at, laugh with, and in the end drink to! And you should. I hope you will,

Biography

Hosho McCreesh is currently writing & painting in the gypsum & caliche badlands of the American Southwest. His work has appeared widely in print, audio, & online.

From A Deep & Gorgeous Thirst

And when you

walk in, your buddy

is in the middle of his

glorious story about

the time he was

zonked on mushrooms

and broken down

out on a lonesome

desert highway.

“The kind where you’d

sell your soul to the devil,”

he says, and he says it was cold,

so cold, and they’d busted

a drive shaft on the truck,

so they were walking

back to town

swaddled in the

sheepskin seat covers.

“Like human burritos,

with our heads sticking out of

the headrest holes,” he says.

And the girls are all

riveted, and wide-eyed,

and laughing when

one of them

finally notices you.

“Hey, how are you?” she says.

“Oh, hell! don’t know,” you say,

“fair to middling, I guess.

Just trying to make my way

through this hard

goddamned life.”

And she gives you a

curious little look.

“Well well well,” she says,

“let me guess

you must be

the writer.”

And you smile,

take a hero-gulp

of your first Guinness

without breaking

eye contact with

this saucy minx,

this cute girl

you’ve decided to

be in love with

tonight.

The Candidate’s Daughter Book Blitz.

pitch

Pitch

The plan is simple: kidnap the daughter of Senate candidate Richard McClaine, take the money and run. Nobody gets hurt, the kid goes home alive. Twenty-two-year-old car thief Kelsey Money thinks it’s the worst idea Matt and his drug-fueled brother have ever come up with. But Matt’s the planner. He’s the one Kelsey has always depended on. Then she discovers she only knew half the plan. By the time she finds out the rest, she’s been framed for murder, and six-year-old Holly McClaine won’t be going home alive. Across town, Elizabeth McClaine has no idea what her daughter was wearing when she disappeared. When Holly was born with Down syndrome and a cleft palate, Elizabeth placed her only child in the care of a nanny while she fought post-natal depression. But when Holly is kidnapped and Elizabeth discovers the detective leading the hunt has already failed one kidnapped child, Elizabeth knows she cannot fail hers. Now both women have twenty-four hours to find Holly. Because in twenty-five, she’ll be dead. The Candidate’s Daughter is a fast paced thriller of love and loss, failure and redemption, of mothers and daughters, and the bonds that hold them.

Review

Embark on a journey of utterly believable intrigue toward a nail-biting show-down that’ll have you screaming “get’m, oh get’m, please”, until the very last world-erupting word. An emotional freight train running at an unprecedented pace into unfathomable darkness. A place of ice cold emptiness. A hollowed-out-heart. A wicked barren pit. You feel all this in the mother’s pain, tangibly. You will hear a crinkle of paper, loud enough to set your teeth on edge, as she crunches up her heartfelt void right in front of you! Yet, it has rhythm, a speed to it that layers warmth to melt straight through the ice at the base of the tale. I felt myself rooting for the heroine(s) vocally(very loudly, in fact). At various intersections, I found my hands in fists of sheer anticipation. The suspense nearly killed me. I was so very involved in the story I dreaded its finale, now isn’t that something? Incredibly eloquent, you’ll be marveling at phrase after phrase of first class, sparkling writing; could I say more? Catherine Lea stitched me right into the fabric of her story without me even noticing that she had; the mark of a truly gifted author.

Bio

Biography

Catherine lives with her daughter, and a fox terrier that thinks he owns the house. She has sold international satellite capacity, worked in IT recruitment, and run her own communications store.

When Catherine isn’t writing, she’s dog-wrangling, wrestling with technology, or going crazy trying to maintain control of the yard.

THE CANDIDATE’S DAUGHTER is her first published work.

Bloom by Martin Kee :- Book Blitz

Author Bio

Pitch

Tennyson Middlebrook never considered himself a storyteller. The fairy tales he invented for his childhood friend Allison were only meant as a distraction from their troubled lives. For Tennyson, the stories were a whim, meant only to offer comfort in a bleak time of mass extinction and despair. The characters in his stories never even had names… But Lil’it is real, if not quite human.

She is feh, a non-person, existing in a fractured world of hoarded knowledge where the simple act of writing is a crime punishable by death. At best she is property; at worst she is an exotic commodity, something to be sold off to rich, superstitious lords and bankers who would use her organs as aphrodisiacs. She lives in a cage, kept as a pet, her saliva a pathogen used to concoct potions. But when she is sold to the prince of a kingdom as a plaything, she discovers her world is much bigger, more dangerous, and far more terrifying than she had ever imagined from inside the safety of her prison. Tennyson’s world has been afflicted by bloom, a parasitic fungus striking down the very people who might be able to stop it. For a disease that feeds on information, the minds and memories of humanity are the perfect food. As bloom scatters the remains of his species, Tennyson becomes separated from Allison. When he learns that she may still be alive, he must decide how far he is willing to go to see the end of the world with the only woman he ever loved… even if she has no memory of him.

Excerpt

If only I could get another taste another sample with me in a less violent mood… If only I could render them all unconscious at once without so much death in my intentions.
But life is never simple is it? You can never get anything without harming someone. You walk through life on a road of bodies, Lil’it. That is why they spit your name. It is why they would carve your body and powder your liver.

“Some people only understand strength,” she says. “Some of them only understand a blade to their throat or a punch to the face.”

She can almost hear him smiling behind her. “He’ll if I’d known you and I thought so much alike, I would have invited you in and given you dinner. It’s a shame we had to meet under these circumstances… I don’t even know your name,”

“Lil’it.”

“Lil’it… You and I seem to be cut from the same cloth. Intelligent killers… Alone in the world. You and I seem to both be too smart for our own good.”

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