Gisele R. Walko's Blog, page 2
October 20, 2016
Ethan and Michelle $.99--Last day!
Hi,
Thanks to everyone who read Ethan and Michelle (or plans to read it). I understand that a few of you wanted to strangle Michelle (my husband included), and I understand. I had fun writing this though, and I'm sure she regrets a couple of her actions.
Today is the last day that the book will be $.99. Tomorrow it will be $2.99. I'm really excited about the sales and Kindle Unlimited reads. Thanks again for the support!
https://www.amazon.com/Ethan-Michelle...
Thanks to everyone who read Ethan and Michelle (or plans to read it). I understand that a few of you wanted to strangle Michelle (my husband included), and I understand. I had fun writing this though, and I'm sure she regrets a couple of her actions.
Today is the last day that the book will be $.99. Tomorrow it will be $2.99. I'm really excited about the sales and Kindle Unlimited reads. Thanks again for the support!
https://www.amazon.com/Ethan-Michelle...
October 4, 2016
Ethan and Michelle
My new Interracial Romance Ethan and Michelle will be officially released on 10/15. It will be only $.99 until 10/21 and then the price will be $2.99.
https://www.amazon.com/Ethan-Michelle...
Thank you to all my Goodreads friends and the extended Goodreads community that read and reviewed the ARC, or offered to read and review. I appreciate you all so much.
https://www.amazon.com/Ethan-Michelle...
Thank you to all my Goodreads friends and the extended Goodreads community that read and reviewed the ARC, or offered to read and review. I appreciate you all so much.
August 5, 2016
Amazon Free Kindle Days
Saturday August 6th and Sunday August 7th
Will be free. It's kind of a mature magical realism YA. It's not written in order, but most people aren't confused by it.
also
will be free. Its an adult IR PNR novella. I know the prologue is strange, but it ties in, so I think I'll leave it.
Enjoy your weekend!
Will be free. It's kind of a mature magical realism YA. It's not written in order, but most people aren't confused by it.
also
will be free. Its an adult IR PNR novella. I know the prologue is strange, but it ties in, so I think I'll leave it.
Enjoy your weekend!
August 3, 2016
Thank You!
Thank you to all those who read, reviewed, or expressed interest in my little novella.
I never imagined so many people would read the ARC and like it. It's free on KU for anyone who missed the instafreebie or Wattpad post.
In addition to going mad and cutting off all of my hair, I'm reading, writing and getting me and the kids ready to go back to school. I'm working on a book with no vampires, necromancers, or wolves centered on Nova and Noah's parents (from my mixed up The Vampire and the Necromancer book). I'm about 100 pages in, and would like too be done this month. Here's an excerpt:
“White Lightnin’, you have a little somethin’ on your face, right about….” I gesture toward my own nose with my clean middle finger.
“Oh, you’re funny.” He laughs, wiping away the chocolate with his hand. “Okay.” He dips his finger in the batter, and lunges at me. I scream as he chases me around the kitchen.
“Good luck getting away from me, Michelle. I was the team captain of the Lacrosse team all through high school,” he says as he nears me, causing me to switch directions.
“Oh yeah? Well sorry Ethan, I’m not impressed. I don’t care about your made up rich people sport because I ran track all through high school and I’m fast, and track is a real thing for real people.”
“Made up sport for rich kids, huh?” He growls.
“Yep.” I go into my impersonation, “Blaine, basketball, football and baseball are for commoners. We need our own thing to play when we’re not sitting around talking about our family’s money. You’re right Sterling, How about a game called lacrosse. It’s a cross between an actual sport and just being fancy like la-dee-da. That’s why we call it lacrosse. We could wear polo shirts….”
“We wore jerseys.”
“And we can ride horses.”
“We ran on a field with helmets and netted sticks. What the hell do you think Lacrosse is, woman?” I cackle. I’m sure I never had enough money to know anything about lacrosse. “And I had zero friends named Blaine. You watch too much Pretty in Pink.” Damn right I do. I switch up my banter as I evade Ethan because apparently I have no idea about lacrosse.
“Blaine. I absolutely love your loafers. You do, Sterling? Thanks. They’re one hundred percent dinosaur leather. Archeologists found a dinosaur mummy with its skin in-tact and my family bought it so I could have these shoes. I really love your fur vest Ethan.”
“Oh. I’m in this now?” He laughs.
“Yes,” I say. “Sterling, Blaine this vest is a combination of unicorn fur that we got from a parallel universe and mermaid scales! Wow, Ethan! Unicorn fur, you don’t say.” I laugh so hard I have to wipe away tears.
“I would never wear a fur vest with scales!”
“Even if Gucci made it?!”
“Girl, if you were mine….” He shakes his head. My heart flutters slightly at the word choice. I’m just winded from running around the kitchen.
“If I was yours, you’d what?” I ask defiantly as I run and dodge the chocolate covered finger once more.
“You don’t want me to say it.” He stops chasing me to get his plate from the microwave when it beeps. He also wipes the finger on a napkin when he should have just lived on the edge and licked it off. I grab him a fork from the drawer.
“You scared to say what you’d do to me? Huh? Don’t want me to be offended, even after your initial introduction.”
“If you were mine, I’d spank that ass, because you have a sassy mouth,” he says cocksure before shoveling a fork full of green beans into his mouth. My dark skin conceals my blush, thank God. If not I’d be baboon ass red right now.
I never imagined so many people would read the ARC and like it. It's free on KU for anyone who missed the instafreebie or Wattpad post.
In addition to going mad and cutting off all of my hair, I'm reading, writing and getting me and the kids ready to go back to school. I'm working on a book with no vampires, necromancers, or wolves centered on Nova and Noah's parents (from my mixed up The Vampire and the Necromancer book). I'm about 100 pages in, and would like too be done this month. Here's an excerpt:
“White Lightnin’, you have a little somethin’ on your face, right about….” I gesture toward my own nose with my clean middle finger.
“Oh, you’re funny.” He laughs, wiping away the chocolate with his hand. “Okay.” He dips his finger in the batter, and lunges at me. I scream as he chases me around the kitchen.
“Good luck getting away from me, Michelle. I was the team captain of the Lacrosse team all through high school,” he says as he nears me, causing me to switch directions.
“Oh yeah? Well sorry Ethan, I’m not impressed. I don’t care about your made up rich people sport because I ran track all through high school and I’m fast, and track is a real thing for real people.”
“Made up sport for rich kids, huh?” He growls.
“Yep.” I go into my impersonation, “Blaine, basketball, football and baseball are for commoners. We need our own thing to play when we’re not sitting around talking about our family’s money. You’re right Sterling, How about a game called lacrosse. It’s a cross between an actual sport and just being fancy like la-dee-da. That’s why we call it lacrosse. We could wear polo shirts….”
“We wore jerseys.”
“And we can ride horses.”
“We ran on a field with helmets and netted sticks. What the hell do you think Lacrosse is, woman?” I cackle. I’m sure I never had enough money to know anything about lacrosse. “And I had zero friends named Blaine. You watch too much Pretty in Pink.” Damn right I do. I switch up my banter as I evade Ethan because apparently I have no idea about lacrosse.
“Blaine. I absolutely love your loafers. You do, Sterling? Thanks. They’re one hundred percent dinosaur leather. Archeologists found a dinosaur mummy with its skin in-tact and my family bought it so I could have these shoes. I really love your fur vest Ethan.”
“Oh. I’m in this now?” He laughs.
“Yes,” I say. “Sterling, Blaine this vest is a combination of unicorn fur that we got from a parallel universe and mermaid scales! Wow, Ethan! Unicorn fur, you don’t say.” I laugh so hard I have to wipe away tears.
“I would never wear a fur vest with scales!”
“Even if Gucci made it?!”
“Girl, if you were mine….” He shakes his head. My heart flutters slightly at the word choice. I’m just winded from running around the kitchen.
“If I was yours, you’d what?” I ask defiantly as I run and dodge the chocolate covered finger once more.
“You don’t want me to say it.” He stops chasing me to get his plate from the microwave when it beeps. He also wipes the finger on a napkin when he should have just lived on the edge and licked it off. I grab him a fork from the drawer.
“You scared to say what you’d do to me? Huh? Don’t want me to be offended, even after your initial introduction.”
“If you were mine, I’d spank that ass, because you have a sassy mouth,” he says cocksure before shoveling a fork full of green beans into his mouth. My dark skin conceals my blush, thank God. If not I’d be baboon ass red right now.
July 11, 2016
Beignets and Fangs
I wrote an adult interracial paranormal vampire romance novella, (only about 100 pages). It will be available for purchase through Amazon on 7/31, but you can read it on wattpad until then:
https://www.wattpad.com/myworks/77970...
or get an instafreebie ARC in the format of your choice:
https://www.instafreebie.com/free/AwMQa
Please feel free to contact me with feedback (positive or negative).
June 6, 2016
Opinions Please
I wrote a very short story. Only 700 words, micro-fiction. My Teenage son says it would be better without the last sentence. I don't necessarily disagree, but the multicultural loving lady that I am, wants to leave the last sentence in to give her racial background. Any thoughts on the subject would be appreciated. It's a little dark. I watched a lot of Law and Order SVU, and some crime shows on the ID channel as well yesterday.
She was not the first one he had taken, but she was the most agreeable by far. Usually they struggled. Those who went willingly always cried. Always figured out what was happening after a few moments and pled for their lives and their parents. Not this one. She sat calm, looking out of the window. He told himself that that was fine. That he wasn’t disappointed by her lack of a struggle, or even interest in the situation. Maybe this one would be a good girl. Her light brown skin and head full of tiny black curls reminded him of his own child. The one the bitch took, despite how hard he tried not to think of her that way. Boy, he had tried. Put a pebble in his shoe to remember not to touch her. Had a string tied around his wrist to recall that she was a child and not yet a woman. Used his teeth to draw blood from his tongue when he would start to look at her that way again. Nothing worked.
“What are you girl? Black and white with maybe some oriental thrown in?” He looked back at her pretty face in the rearview mirror. Her eyes scanned right to meet his. Hers seemed unusually dark and perfectly almond shaped. Not just dark brown. Unusually dark. One might say black. It was getting darker out. A trick of the lighting perhaps. A small smile quirked the corner of her full lips. For a moment he had thought maybe she had not spoken to him or cried because she was autistic or mentally handicapped, but no. She responded just fine to the sound of his voice. Diverting her attention from the trees and skyline at the sound of his baritone voice. His first thought about the girl had been that she was a beautiful mulatto doll, that looked so similar to his own child. One of his later thoughts about the girl had been: Who the hell let’s an autistic toddler go alone to a bathroom at a movie theater on a Saturday night. Feeling emboldened and desperate for contact with the girl, he had just claimed her wrist and dragged her out of the rear door. He and the child were the only two people in the area. It was meant to be.
“You are such a good girl. Keep that up, you’ll be mine forever. I’ll buy you McDonald’s every night. A puppy on Christmas. Maybe one day we can even find you a brother.” Another small grateful smile. His penis responded, but he remembered this time. She was just a child. An alert, but possibly mute child.
“We’re home princess.” He said as they neared the tiny secluded cabin. I’ll come unbuckle you and show you around your new home.
He opened her door enthusiastically and unfastened the restrictive barrier between them. She felt cold and stiff in his arms, but she was light. A thin girl. He held her tight, and smelled her coconut scented hair. Unlike the others, who had met their end in his cabin, this one seemed to come from money. Smelled like heaven. Wore an expensive looking dress with shiny black Mary Janes. An honest to God, doll. He’d practice restraint. He wouldn’t touch her tonight. He’d draw out their encounter.
He gasped. Sharp pain unlike any he’d ever felt. Had he lost his footing? Fallen and banged his head on the hard earth. He was now looking at a starry sky. Head throbbing, and in his neck? A knife? The little bitch had stabbed him! Had a weapon the whole time! Who gives a toddler a knife? She couldn’t be more than five. Savages. Then he saw her face. A monster. Almond shaped black eyes. Whites, irises and pupils all completely black. Skin gone a shade paler, and those fangs! Sharp elongated thick tusks really. Dripping with blood. His blood. He weakly moved his hand to his throat to find the crimson liquid still flowing, and that face. The face of the devil was the last face he saw.
He was not the first she had taken, but his lust and broken mind made him the easiest. He was the first she had taken without her parents: A black human woman from Louisiana, and a 214 year old white and Japanese vampire from California.
She was not the first one he had taken, but she was the most agreeable by far. Usually they struggled. Those who went willingly always cried. Always figured out what was happening after a few moments and pled for their lives and their parents. Not this one. She sat calm, looking out of the window. He told himself that that was fine. That he wasn’t disappointed by her lack of a struggle, or even interest in the situation. Maybe this one would be a good girl. Her light brown skin and head full of tiny black curls reminded him of his own child. The one the bitch took, despite how hard he tried not to think of her that way. Boy, he had tried. Put a pebble in his shoe to remember not to touch her. Had a string tied around his wrist to recall that she was a child and not yet a woman. Used his teeth to draw blood from his tongue when he would start to look at her that way again. Nothing worked.
“What are you girl? Black and white with maybe some oriental thrown in?” He looked back at her pretty face in the rearview mirror. Her eyes scanned right to meet his. Hers seemed unusually dark and perfectly almond shaped. Not just dark brown. Unusually dark. One might say black. It was getting darker out. A trick of the lighting perhaps. A small smile quirked the corner of her full lips. For a moment he had thought maybe she had not spoken to him or cried because she was autistic or mentally handicapped, but no. She responded just fine to the sound of his voice. Diverting her attention from the trees and skyline at the sound of his baritone voice. His first thought about the girl had been that she was a beautiful mulatto doll, that looked so similar to his own child. One of his later thoughts about the girl had been: Who the hell let’s an autistic toddler go alone to a bathroom at a movie theater on a Saturday night. Feeling emboldened and desperate for contact with the girl, he had just claimed her wrist and dragged her out of the rear door. He and the child were the only two people in the area. It was meant to be.
“You are such a good girl. Keep that up, you’ll be mine forever. I’ll buy you McDonald’s every night. A puppy on Christmas. Maybe one day we can even find you a brother.” Another small grateful smile. His penis responded, but he remembered this time. She was just a child. An alert, but possibly mute child.
“We’re home princess.” He said as they neared the tiny secluded cabin. I’ll come unbuckle you and show you around your new home.
He opened her door enthusiastically and unfastened the restrictive barrier between them. She felt cold and stiff in his arms, but she was light. A thin girl. He held her tight, and smelled her coconut scented hair. Unlike the others, who had met their end in his cabin, this one seemed to come from money. Smelled like heaven. Wore an expensive looking dress with shiny black Mary Janes. An honest to God, doll. He’d practice restraint. He wouldn’t touch her tonight. He’d draw out their encounter.
He gasped. Sharp pain unlike any he’d ever felt. Had he lost his footing? Fallen and banged his head on the hard earth. He was now looking at a starry sky. Head throbbing, and in his neck? A knife? The little bitch had stabbed him! Had a weapon the whole time! Who gives a toddler a knife? She couldn’t be more than five. Savages. Then he saw her face. A monster. Almond shaped black eyes. Whites, irises and pupils all completely black. Skin gone a shade paler, and those fangs! Sharp elongated thick tusks really. Dripping with blood. His blood. He weakly moved his hand to his throat to find the crimson liquid still flowing, and that face. The face of the devil was the last face he saw.
He was not the first she had taken, but his lust and broken mind made him the easiest. He was the first she had taken without her parents: A black human woman from Louisiana, and a 214 year old white and Japanese vampire from California.
May 5, 2016
Follow me on Wattpad: gwalko
I am bad at technology, but with my hubby's help, I managed to make a book cover and post a chapter of my Fairy Girl in Dreamland book, which follows Noah and Ko's relationship. I can't post the cover. I'm not that savvy.
https://www.wattpad.com/story/7105315...
Ko, a beautiful black and Japanese cheerleader and fairy has loved Noah, her nemesis' popular twin brother for years. During one of Noah's Kleine-Levin Syndrome spells, in which he sleeps for days, Ko discovers that not only can she enter his dreams, she can break his sleeping spell. Ko is determined to make Noah hers at all costs, even if it means stalking him or ending her own life to be a part of his Dreamland.
https://www.wattpad.com/story/7105315...
Ko, a beautiful black and Japanese cheerleader and fairy has loved Noah, her nemesis' popular twin brother for years. During one of Noah's Kleine-Levin Syndrome spells, in which he sleeps for days, Ko discovers that not only can she enter his dreams, she can break his sleeping spell. Ko is determined to make Noah hers at all costs, even if it means stalking him or ending her own life to be a part of his Dreamland.
April 25, 2016
About to pull out all of my hair! Why can't I finish this!
I set out to write a 20,000 word novella, and this thing has turned into like a 70,000 word monster, and I'm still not done, and I wanted a quicker project. Sorry to whine. It'll get wrapped up eventually. On a previous post I put Travis first chapter out, so here is Legend's. Feel free to tell me if something is weird, misspelled, our sounds crazy. I actually don't mind any criticism if it's constructive. Don't just say you hate me and my work. Not much I could do about that.
Legend
My sophomore year of college, my parents and my 14-year-old brother Wisdom drop me off at the dorm. I could have driven my own car, but they wanted to do it the traditional way, so I’ll just have to go get my Honda next weekend. The Toyota Highlander practically bursts at the seams from the toll that hauling all my crap takes on it, during the ride to school. I hold my plastic tote full of different lip glosses on my lap, because that’s important. I have over 50 different glosses, maybe closer to 100, and aside from my skateboard, they are what I would hate most to lose in the short move from my house.
No one’s really broken up about me leaving. I was gone for the better part of the summer working as a counselor at a survival camp for kids aged 12-15. Every two weeks, a fresh cycle of privileged kids (the camp was expensive) would arrive to learn how to survive in the wilderness. We lived in tents, ate meal worms and MRE’s, started fires, painted our faces with camouflage colored paints and thrived with no technology. It was different, but it was a good time. I’ll definitely go back next summer, and if there’s ever a zombie apocalypse, I’m beyond prepared. Just sayin’. My group survives the apocalypse.
I met a guy named Sean at camp. He was also a counselor: Big brown eyes, mahogany skin like mine, runner’s body. Excellent survivalist. Sarcastic. Funny. Smart. His dad was also a doctor. I really liked Sean. I thought there was something important there between us, like if we both worked at it we could be great together. We both love nature, and wanted to follow in our fathers footsteps, so I could see us opening up a practice together in several years. He’d be a pediatrician. I’d be a Naturopath. He had potential, for sure. I made all these plans with Sean: Meeting each other’s families, traveling the 85 miles each way between our campuses on long weekends and breaks, when that sounded exhausting, he even talked about transferring to my college so we wouldn’t have to do the long distance thing, even if my college was the one that was all over the news not too long ago for having the fraternity with the racist chant. He was willing to endure racists for me! I liked him enough to try to make it work long distance. Sean’s tune changed when I didn’t want to have sex with him in his tent less than two months after knowing him. He was that guy. He started to lose interest in me. His begging me for sex was enough to curb my interest as well. Funny, in high school I got dumped like immediately after I had sex with a guy. When I make the exact opposite decision years later, and keep it in my pants, I get dumped. Things fizzled out with Sean. He decided he liked Shelby, the pretty blonde counselor, so to hell with him and her. She can have him. I’m not the girl who screws a guy she’s not sure about and then is heart-broken when he dumps me, anymore. The last couple of weeks of camp were awkward, but I made it through, and I’m eager to start the year unattached. I’m just going to focus on my GPA. I can’t seem to get it right with boys.
My roommate arrives with no parents when I’m almost done unpacking. I hung my clothes, stuffed my drawers, scattered my photos around on my side of the room. Hung my ‘Skate like a Girl’ and ‘Skate boarding is not illegal’ signs. It’s homey. I just have to hook up my Xbox one when she comes in. Vanessa is a pretty fair-skinned black girl. Shoulder length straight black hair. Thin frame. Cute little nose. I’m sure she’s been told how gorgeous she is all of her life. She’s so striking that I’m impressed that she developed enough of an intellect to make it into college, and that she’s kind; at least I think she is. Our few short phone conversations went well enough. I’m sure if she were a bitch, men would still want her. Maybe even more. She has that kind of beauty. I’m going to be the cute, but not as conventionally pretty best friend in the 80’s movie of her life.
“Hey!” She says softly, but enthusiastically when she comes in the room hauling two suitcases. She’s all happiness and kindness, like I hoped she would be.
“Hey!” I match her upbeat tone, but respond twice as loud. I thought maybe her phone was shitty, and that’s why I could barely hear her on the phone. Not the case.
“Legend right?” She almost whispers.
“Yeah, and you’re Vanessa.” We exchange smiles and handshakes.
“Do you mind helping me unpack my car? I drove myself here, and I don’t want to recruit boys I don’t know.” Her eyes dart from side to side beneath hooded lids. She’s shy. I’d have grabbed five guys by now and told them they were helping me. I’m sure her struggling on her own for a minute or two would yield several boys falling over each other for a chance to help the distressed damsel, but I’m happy to help.
“Sure.”
Vanessa is a close friend immediately. I tell her about my summer job and my family: Mom, dad, brother named Wisdom and a Chihuahua named Chico. She tells me about her family: Two moms: one white, one black (either could be her birth mother, judging by her looks) and an adopted eight year old brother named David. A few guys check us (mostly Vanessa) out while we lug all of her possessions to the room. I take their ogling us (her) as them volunteering to help, so I grab them. Between the five of us, it doesn’t take any time to unpack her car. After their service, I dismiss the boys. The boldest and cutest boy asks Vanessa for her phone number. She takes his instead. While her phone is still out, she shows me a picture of her family. The black woman is obviously the birth mother. She’s tall and breathtaking with Vanessa’s cute button nose, and high cheekbones.
“I don’t care about my family’s money,” She whispers defensively with a sad expression, as she puts her phone in her pocket. I wasn’t even going to mention that the photo was taken in front of a mansion, so I dismiss the random comment. I’m sure the same haters that disliked her beauty, felt some type a way about her being loaded. I’m not jealous of her looks or money and I don’t like drama, even if I were.
“Beautiful family.” I tell her sincerely. “Want to go to Subway? I could go for a sandwich.” I tell her. I like to eat. We eat mostly clean at home. Organic everything. Lots of plants. During the school year I eat what tastes good.
“Uh…..sure.” She acquiesces.
Vanessa’s not a big talker, so on the way to eat I go on and on about skateboarding and The Walking Dead. I show her the picture in my phone of me with Norman Reedus, the actor who plays Daryl on The Walking Dead. I met him at Walker Stalker Con in New York almost a year ago. A whole convention just for zombies. I take her silence as: she’s so interested in all of the zombie talk coming out of my mouth that she can’t even speak. Her favorite show is Downton Abbey. I’ve never seen it but it seems like a strange choice for a 19-year-old.
“I like that you’re pretty, but you’re into cosplay and weird stuff.” She tells me.
“Oh. I’m not into cosplay. I don’t dress up.” She raises a perfectly arched brow at me. “But thanks for the compliment. You’re pretty too.” She gives me a gracious look that says she’s flattered, but well aware of her breathtaking beauty. She was Miss Teen Oklahoma a few years back.
We split a black forest ham foot long on Italian herb and cheese bread. I’m glad she didn’t just order a salad with no dressing. We both like lettuce, tomatoes and pickles, she gets hers toasted and with green peppers. The cute Latino sandwich artist smiles broadly at Vanessa, she looks at her shoes. Two cute boys in an hour that she acts indifferent towards. She said she was single. I decide maybe she’s not shy, just quiet and disinterested. Maybe she’s into girls like her mothers. I don’t care either way. I notice a flier for a party on one of the tables and my face lights up. She begs me not to make her go. She’s a wallflower. I guess I knew that already. I guess her being outgoing is too much to ask. We go back to the dorms so I can skateboard and she can unpack. Skateboarding is not allowed on campus, but I need my skateboard like I need to breathe. I need the motion and the breeze on my face. It’s getting dark, so not many people will notice me anyway. I’ll make it a point to be stealthy. I put on black yoga pants and a black t-shirt; dress like I’m about to break an entering. I put on my headphones and move along with the Drake song invading my whole body through my eardrums. I skate for about half an hour, and then I shower.
On Sunday, I convince Vanessa to dress cute and explore campus with me. We ready ourselves in the bathroom mirror. Her style is much more preppy than mine. She puts on a tight blue polo and a short black A-line skit. Conservative Catholic School cheerleader comes to mind. I’m a jeans girl myself. While we’re primping, some light-skinned black girl with freckles galore and a red afro opens the door, barges past us and plops down on the toilet to piss right in front of us, like we’re invisible. What the hell? This crazy chick must be our suitemate. My hope that she’s just visiting our perfectly normal, classy suitemate is unlikely. We get to share a bathroom with this nutty girl.
“What the hell?!” I say at the same time Vanessa mumbles that she’s low class under her breath. I take a break from my eyeshadow application to gawk at her.
“What?” She asks. Daggers shoot from my retinas.
“What?!?!” I parrot back at her. Vanessa flees the bathroom. The feral girl flushes and pulls up her booty shorts. I move a little so the crazy lady can wash her hands.
“Sorry, ya’ll were taking too long. I had to go. We all have girl parts.” She reasons with a smirk.
She doesn’t wash her hands. She opens the door leading to her bedroom and slams it shut when she’s on the other side. After a moment, Vanessa rejoins me in the mirror.
“That chick has issues!” I say loud enough for her to hear me. Who pees in front of people, and then doesn’t wash their hands? Gross. Vanessa nods in agreement.
We spend a couple of hours just wandering around amongst all the other students. We have overpriced coffee. Shop the boutiques. She doesn’t want to play pool with me. I take a cue from Vanessa and when, a cute tall black guy asks for my number, I ask for his instead. She shoots down every boy that comes her way regardless of race or attractiveness.
On the way back to the dorm, I can’t resist. I say, “Vanessa, if you don’t like boys it’s cool with me. I don’t care either way.” I shrug casually to emphasize my indifference about her sexual preference.
“Who says I don’t like boys?” She frowns sternly. “I just want a normal looking boy. All these damn model looking dudes are coming at me. They’re not my type. I like smart sweet boys. The ones that are too intimidated by me to even say hi. Do you see how cocky they all act? Like it’s a given that I would want them?” I’ve never heard the give-me-an-average-looking-man argument, but whatever. My luck with boys has been shit. She might be onto something.
On Monday, Vanessa and I have classes in buildings right next to each other, so we get to walk together and I tell her I’ll meet her after class. I have my hair in a wild springy curly afro. I sport my favorite tight vintage Run DMC shirt and tight jeans with black Timberland boots. She has on a preppy navy dress, and a high ponytail. We’re both cute.
As soon as I get into the room, I feel a weird energy and eyes to my left. I look that direction and lock eyes with a white boy staring me down. Bats start flapping around in my chest. A distraction. Already. Will he get bored with me for moving too fast or too slow, if I decide he’s worthy of my time? Doesn’t matter. I’m determined not to decide that. I take a deep breath. He smiles like he was expecting me somehow.
“Do you know me?” I ask confusedly as I put down my black Nike bag and take the seat next to his. He acts like I’m familiar to him.
“What? No, Why?” He jerks his gaze from mine abruptly, but meets my eyes again before I turn away, “Did you feel that though, between us? Weird, right?” He smirks and shakes his head. I don’t answer. There is a something. Making me feel naked and vulnerable. Making it difficult for me to stop looking his way. Making me a little bothered that he put words to the feeling and exposed my thoughts in front of my classmates. I finally manage to turn toward the front of the room.
“I don’t believe in any of that feelings, connection universe stuff when you lock eyes with someone.” I answer sincerely without meeting his gaze, because I never have before.
“Yeah, but you don’t have to believe it. You felt it.” I pretend not to hear him. It’s just called attraction.
“Sorry I was staring so hard.” His deep voice interrupts my panicked thoughts. My head jerks sharply left to meet his beautiful eyes again. One the color of a stormy sky, the other the color of desert sand. Heaven and earth. “I like the whole thing you got going on with the big sexy afro, and the t-shirt. We’re in the same damn shirt.” He laughs, causing my eyes to go slightly south away from his face to his chest. Huh. That is a coincidence. “Didn’t mean to stare.” He repeats with a broad smile.
“Not a problem.” I tell him. “Thank you.” I add quietly, acting more and more like Vanessa by the minute.
My phone rings. I glance at the screen. Well that’s cute. He doesn’t understand the words: lose my number. It just says: What’s up? I have no intentions of speaking to him before I have to next June.
“It’s Sean.” I say to the guy clouding my brain, like he could know who that is. “I told myself if he called, I wasn’t going to answer, so I’m not.” He laughs again. Nervous laughter? He thinks that’s funny? I smile slightly, but don’t get the joke.
“Yeah” he leans toward me and lowers his voice, “but is Sean by chance an ex-boyfriend, who happens to be white, and you’re still in love with him, but he only calls you for sex, and your race is an issue for him, and you just accept that you are his dirty little secret, and wait for him to fall back in love with you or maybe just act on your feelings for him? Do you reason that only having part of him is better than none of him at all?” Warning sirens go off in my head, and I’m relieved. It makes it much easier not to be intrigued by the strange boy. Messy bullshit. He’s unavailable, and I will stay away. He almost had me forgetting that I don’t want him.
“No, but that sounds like a super healthy thing that you have going with your ex. Good luck with all of that.” I turn away.
“What? You’re done talking to me now? I didn’t say that was my personal situation.”
“Uh-huh.” I look straight ahead. Not in those eyes again.
“Well, can you at least tell me your name, so when I tell the story about you to my roommate and my best friend, I don’t have to refer to you as the beautiful sassy girl in the Run DMC tee?” I blush and look back at him. What harm could telling him my name do?
“Legend.” I say. His mouth drops open temporarily.
“Bullshit.” He accuses. I raise a brow. “That is the single coolest name I’ve ever heard. Your name can’t be Legend! I didn’t even know that naming people Legend was an option for me.” I laugh. “I’m naming my first kid that….boy or girl.”
“What’s your name?” I ask while kicking myself for continuing our banter.
“Travis. Just Travis.”
“Nice name.” He shrugs.
“It’s ordinary.” Nothing else about him is. He continues to stare and bites the corner of his full bottom lip. I can’t stop looking at his mouth. It’s possible that I lost my mind and licked my own lips while I was stuck in a trance.
“Damn boy! Just take a picture.” I joke, breaking the spell he has over me. He puts his phone at arm’s length and snaps my picture without missing a beat. It surprises me.
“What? You said I could.” We have a tension filled staring contest for a moment.
Beyonce’s Drunk in Love starts to play. Messy bullshit herself must have sensed his attraction to me. I watch him study the text. He frowns, and then he smiles before sending a message back to her. He has someone. I’m not a home wrecker.
Legend
My sophomore year of college, my parents and my 14-year-old brother Wisdom drop me off at the dorm. I could have driven my own car, but they wanted to do it the traditional way, so I’ll just have to go get my Honda next weekend. The Toyota Highlander practically bursts at the seams from the toll that hauling all my crap takes on it, during the ride to school. I hold my plastic tote full of different lip glosses on my lap, because that’s important. I have over 50 different glosses, maybe closer to 100, and aside from my skateboard, they are what I would hate most to lose in the short move from my house.
No one’s really broken up about me leaving. I was gone for the better part of the summer working as a counselor at a survival camp for kids aged 12-15. Every two weeks, a fresh cycle of privileged kids (the camp was expensive) would arrive to learn how to survive in the wilderness. We lived in tents, ate meal worms and MRE’s, started fires, painted our faces with camouflage colored paints and thrived with no technology. It was different, but it was a good time. I’ll definitely go back next summer, and if there’s ever a zombie apocalypse, I’m beyond prepared. Just sayin’. My group survives the apocalypse.
I met a guy named Sean at camp. He was also a counselor: Big brown eyes, mahogany skin like mine, runner’s body. Excellent survivalist. Sarcastic. Funny. Smart. His dad was also a doctor. I really liked Sean. I thought there was something important there between us, like if we both worked at it we could be great together. We both love nature, and wanted to follow in our fathers footsteps, so I could see us opening up a practice together in several years. He’d be a pediatrician. I’d be a Naturopath. He had potential, for sure. I made all these plans with Sean: Meeting each other’s families, traveling the 85 miles each way between our campuses on long weekends and breaks, when that sounded exhausting, he even talked about transferring to my college so we wouldn’t have to do the long distance thing, even if my college was the one that was all over the news not too long ago for having the fraternity with the racist chant. He was willing to endure racists for me! I liked him enough to try to make it work long distance. Sean’s tune changed when I didn’t want to have sex with him in his tent less than two months after knowing him. He was that guy. He started to lose interest in me. His begging me for sex was enough to curb my interest as well. Funny, in high school I got dumped like immediately after I had sex with a guy. When I make the exact opposite decision years later, and keep it in my pants, I get dumped. Things fizzled out with Sean. He decided he liked Shelby, the pretty blonde counselor, so to hell with him and her. She can have him. I’m not the girl who screws a guy she’s not sure about and then is heart-broken when he dumps me, anymore. The last couple of weeks of camp were awkward, but I made it through, and I’m eager to start the year unattached. I’m just going to focus on my GPA. I can’t seem to get it right with boys.
My roommate arrives with no parents when I’m almost done unpacking. I hung my clothes, stuffed my drawers, scattered my photos around on my side of the room. Hung my ‘Skate like a Girl’ and ‘Skate boarding is not illegal’ signs. It’s homey. I just have to hook up my Xbox one when she comes in. Vanessa is a pretty fair-skinned black girl. Shoulder length straight black hair. Thin frame. Cute little nose. I’m sure she’s been told how gorgeous she is all of her life. She’s so striking that I’m impressed that she developed enough of an intellect to make it into college, and that she’s kind; at least I think she is. Our few short phone conversations went well enough. I’m sure if she were a bitch, men would still want her. Maybe even more. She has that kind of beauty. I’m going to be the cute, but not as conventionally pretty best friend in the 80’s movie of her life.
“Hey!” She says softly, but enthusiastically when she comes in the room hauling two suitcases. She’s all happiness and kindness, like I hoped she would be.
“Hey!” I match her upbeat tone, but respond twice as loud. I thought maybe her phone was shitty, and that’s why I could barely hear her on the phone. Not the case.
“Legend right?” She almost whispers.
“Yeah, and you’re Vanessa.” We exchange smiles and handshakes.
“Do you mind helping me unpack my car? I drove myself here, and I don’t want to recruit boys I don’t know.” Her eyes dart from side to side beneath hooded lids. She’s shy. I’d have grabbed five guys by now and told them they were helping me. I’m sure her struggling on her own for a minute or two would yield several boys falling over each other for a chance to help the distressed damsel, but I’m happy to help.
“Sure.”
Vanessa is a close friend immediately. I tell her about my summer job and my family: Mom, dad, brother named Wisdom and a Chihuahua named Chico. She tells me about her family: Two moms: one white, one black (either could be her birth mother, judging by her looks) and an adopted eight year old brother named David. A few guys check us (mostly Vanessa) out while we lug all of her possessions to the room. I take their ogling us (her) as them volunteering to help, so I grab them. Between the five of us, it doesn’t take any time to unpack her car. After their service, I dismiss the boys. The boldest and cutest boy asks Vanessa for her phone number. She takes his instead. While her phone is still out, she shows me a picture of her family. The black woman is obviously the birth mother. She’s tall and breathtaking with Vanessa’s cute button nose, and high cheekbones.
“I don’t care about my family’s money,” She whispers defensively with a sad expression, as she puts her phone in her pocket. I wasn’t even going to mention that the photo was taken in front of a mansion, so I dismiss the random comment. I’m sure the same haters that disliked her beauty, felt some type a way about her being loaded. I’m not jealous of her looks or money and I don’t like drama, even if I were.
“Beautiful family.” I tell her sincerely. “Want to go to Subway? I could go for a sandwich.” I tell her. I like to eat. We eat mostly clean at home. Organic everything. Lots of plants. During the school year I eat what tastes good.
“Uh…..sure.” She acquiesces.
Vanessa’s not a big talker, so on the way to eat I go on and on about skateboarding and The Walking Dead. I show her the picture in my phone of me with Norman Reedus, the actor who plays Daryl on The Walking Dead. I met him at Walker Stalker Con in New York almost a year ago. A whole convention just for zombies. I take her silence as: she’s so interested in all of the zombie talk coming out of my mouth that she can’t even speak. Her favorite show is Downton Abbey. I’ve never seen it but it seems like a strange choice for a 19-year-old.
“I like that you’re pretty, but you’re into cosplay and weird stuff.” She tells me.
“Oh. I’m not into cosplay. I don’t dress up.” She raises a perfectly arched brow at me. “But thanks for the compliment. You’re pretty too.” She gives me a gracious look that says she’s flattered, but well aware of her breathtaking beauty. She was Miss Teen Oklahoma a few years back.
We split a black forest ham foot long on Italian herb and cheese bread. I’m glad she didn’t just order a salad with no dressing. We both like lettuce, tomatoes and pickles, she gets hers toasted and with green peppers. The cute Latino sandwich artist smiles broadly at Vanessa, she looks at her shoes. Two cute boys in an hour that she acts indifferent towards. She said she was single. I decide maybe she’s not shy, just quiet and disinterested. Maybe she’s into girls like her mothers. I don’t care either way. I notice a flier for a party on one of the tables and my face lights up. She begs me not to make her go. She’s a wallflower. I guess I knew that already. I guess her being outgoing is too much to ask. We go back to the dorms so I can skateboard and she can unpack. Skateboarding is not allowed on campus, but I need my skateboard like I need to breathe. I need the motion and the breeze on my face. It’s getting dark, so not many people will notice me anyway. I’ll make it a point to be stealthy. I put on black yoga pants and a black t-shirt; dress like I’m about to break an entering. I put on my headphones and move along with the Drake song invading my whole body through my eardrums. I skate for about half an hour, and then I shower.
On Sunday, I convince Vanessa to dress cute and explore campus with me. We ready ourselves in the bathroom mirror. Her style is much more preppy than mine. She puts on a tight blue polo and a short black A-line skit. Conservative Catholic School cheerleader comes to mind. I’m a jeans girl myself. While we’re primping, some light-skinned black girl with freckles galore and a red afro opens the door, barges past us and plops down on the toilet to piss right in front of us, like we’re invisible. What the hell? This crazy chick must be our suitemate. My hope that she’s just visiting our perfectly normal, classy suitemate is unlikely. We get to share a bathroom with this nutty girl.
“What the hell?!” I say at the same time Vanessa mumbles that she’s low class under her breath. I take a break from my eyeshadow application to gawk at her.
“What?” She asks. Daggers shoot from my retinas.
“What?!?!” I parrot back at her. Vanessa flees the bathroom. The feral girl flushes and pulls up her booty shorts. I move a little so the crazy lady can wash her hands.
“Sorry, ya’ll were taking too long. I had to go. We all have girl parts.” She reasons with a smirk.
She doesn’t wash her hands. She opens the door leading to her bedroom and slams it shut when she’s on the other side. After a moment, Vanessa rejoins me in the mirror.
“That chick has issues!” I say loud enough for her to hear me. Who pees in front of people, and then doesn’t wash their hands? Gross. Vanessa nods in agreement.
We spend a couple of hours just wandering around amongst all the other students. We have overpriced coffee. Shop the boutiques. She doesn’t want to play pool with me. I take a cue from Vanessa and when, a cute tall black guy asks for my number, I ask for his instead. She shoots down every boy that comes her way regardless of race or attractiveness.
On the way back to the dorm, I can’t resist. I say, “Vanessa, if you don’t like boys it’s cool with me. I don’t care either way.” I shrug casually to emphasize my indifference about her sexual preference.
“Who says I don’t like boys?” She frowns sternly. “I just want a normal looking boy. All these damn model looking dudes are coming at me. They’re not my type. I like smart sweet boys. The ones that are too intimidated by me to even say hi. Do you see how cocky they all act? Like it’s a given that I would want them?” I’ve never heard the give-me-an-average-looking-man argument, but whatever. My luck with boys has been shit. She might be onto something.
On Monday, Vanessa and I have classes in buildings right next to each other, so we get to walk together and I tell her I’ll meet her after class. I have my hair in a wild springy curly afro. I sport my favorite tight vintage Run DMC shirt and tight jeans with black Timberland boots. She has on a preppy navy dress, and a high ponytail. We’re both cute.
As soon as I get into the room, I feel a weird energy and eyes to my left. I look that direction and lock eyes with a white boy staring me down. Bats start flapping around in my chest. A distraction. Already. Will he get bored with me for moving too fast or too slow, if I decide he’s worthy of my time? Doesn’t matter. I’m determined not to decide that. I take a deep breath. He smiles like he was expecting me somehow.
“Do you know me?” I ask confusedly as I put down my black Nike bag and take the seat next to his. He acts like I’m familiar to him.
“What? No, Why?” He jerks his gaze from mine abruptly, but meets my eyes again before I turn away, “Did you feel that though, between us? Weird, right?” He smirks and shakes his head. I don’t answer. There is a something. Making me feel naked and vulnerable. Making it difficult for me to stop looking his way. Making me a little bothered that he put words to the feeling and exposed my thoughts in front of my classmates. I finally manage to turn toward the front of the room.
“I don’t believe in any of that feelings, connection universe stuff when you lock eyes with someone.” I answer sincerely without meeting his gaze, because I never have before.
“Yeah, but you don’t have to believe it. You felt it.” I pretend not to hear him. It’s just called attraction.
“Sorry I was staring so hard.” His deep voice interrupts my panicked thoughts. My head jerks sharply left to meet his beautiful eyes again. One the color of a stormy sky, the other the color of desert sand. Heaven and earth. “I like the whole thing you got going on with the big sexy afro, and the t-shirt. We’re in the same damn shirt.” He laughs, causing my eyes to go slightly south away from his face to his chest. Huh. That is a coincidence. “Didn’t mean to stare.” He repeats with a broad smile.
“Not a problem.” I tell him. “Thank you.” I add quietly, acting more and more like Vanessa by the minute.
My phone rings. I glance at the screen. Well that’s cute. He doesn’t understand the words: lose my number. It just says: What’s up? I have no intentions of speaking to him before I have to next June.
“It’s Sean.” I say to the guy clouding my brain, like he could know who that is. “I told myself if he called, I wasn’t going to answer, so I’m not.” He laughs again. Nervous laughter? He thinks that’s funny? I smile slightly, but don’t get the joke.
“Yeah” he leans toward me and lowers his voice, “but is Sean by chance an ex-boyfriend, who happens to be white, and you’re still in love with him, but he only calls you for sex, and your race is an issue for him, and you just accept that you are his dirty little secret, and wait for him to fall back in love with you or maybe just act on your feelings for him? Do you reason that only having part of him is better than none of him at all?” Warning sirens go off in my head, and I’m relieved. It makes it much easier not to be intrigued by the strange boy. Messy bullshit. He’s unavailable, and I will stay away. He almost had me forgetting that I don’t want him.
“No, but that sounds like a super healthy thing that you have going with your ex. Good luck with all of that.” I turn away.
“What? You’re done talking to me now? I didn’t say that was my personal situation.”
“Uh-huh.” I look straight ahead. Not in those eyes again.
“Well, can you at least tell me your name, so when I tell the story about you to my roommate and my best friend, I don’t have to refer to you as the beautiful sassy girl in the Run DMC tee?” I blush and look back at him. What harm could telling him my name do?
“Legend.” I say. His mouth drops open temporarily.
“Bullshit.” He accuses. I raise a brow. “That is the single coolest name I’ve ever heard. Your name can’t be Legend! I didn’t even know that naming people Legend was an option for me.” I laugh. “I’m naming my first kid that….boy or girl.”
“What’s your name?” I ask while kicking myself for continuing our banter.
“Travis. Just Travis.”
“Nice name.” He shrugs.
“It’s ordinary.” Nothing else about him is. He continues to stare and bites the corner of his full bottom lip. I can’t stop looking at his mouth. It’s possible that I lost my mind and licked my own lips while I was stuck in a trance.
“Damn boy! Just take a picture.” I joke, breaking the spell he has over me. He puts his phone at arm’s length and snaps my picture without missing a beat. It surprises me.
“What? You said I could.” We have a tension filled staring contest for a moment.
Beyonce’s Drunk in Love starts to play. Messy bullshit herself must have sensed his attraction to me. I watch him study the text. He frowns, and then he smiles before sending a message back to her. He has someone. I’m not a home wrecker.
April 1, 2016
Hello
I am not the bloggiest person. I'm actually very private and awkward. I'm just checking in. I decided that my two published books are not actually a series since they can stand alone, or maybe they are just a loosely connected series of stand alone books. Either way....If anyone is interested in reading
the smashwords coupon (ED25Q) will be expiring soon.
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view...
I was in the process of writing a novella, about two college students named Travis and Legend but it's now 40,000 words, and I'm maybe 2/3 of the way through it, so I guess it will be a short novel. Is just: Travis and Legend too generic of a name for a novel? I hope to have that out later this month, and I pushed my release date for Fairy Girl in Dreamland to hopefully the end of May.
the smashwords coupon (ED25Q) will be expiring soon.https://www.smashwords.com/books/view...
I was in the process of writing a novella, about two college students named Travis and Legend but it's now 40,000 words, and I'm maybe 2/3 of the way through it, so I guess it will be a short novel. Is just: Travis and Legend too generic of a name for a novel? I hope to have that out later this month, and I pushed my release date for Fairy Girl in Dreamland to hopefully the end of May.
February 27, 2016
Wolf Girl finds necRomance free on Amazon 2/28/16
For whatever reason (because I'm crazy and easily distracted), I forgot all about the fact that I could run a free Kindle promotion for this book, and I only have 1 day before the new quarter, Ha. So for 1 day only, tomorrow, February 28th, Wolf Girl finds necRomance is free on Amazon.
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B014...
Thanks for your interest.
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B014...
Thanks for your interest.
