Phetra H. Novak's Blog, page 5

5 Star Review of Haven's REvenge

#5StarReview

Finding Home. Excerpt.

    It's only 5 days left until the release of Finding Home. Kai's and Luca's story has been long time coming, It is the first attempt to a book I ever sat down and tried to write.
     It's what the "English language" call a coming of age story, a line of words I don't really understand. I know what they mean but they don't make any sense at all to me. But this is what the story is. 
    What I loved most with writing this story was that it is centered in my home town, Gothenburg. It was a lot of fun to know ever crook and corner when I pictured Kai and Luca doing town.  Gothenburg is located on the west coast of Sweden and is this large city with small city charm, also called Little London. 
    It is what you would call a walking city, the best way of enjoying it to it's fullness is to just walk and then walk some more. Even when you're in the heart of the city you will find it to be like no other big city because it feels small, intimate and cosy with cafés and pubs all over the city. There are a larger shopping mall but mostly you have the indivudual shops along the streets. 
    So, in five days, two days after Lucia a national holiday where we celebrate the dark haired girl with lights in her hair Finding Home will be available for you on Amazon and All Romance. 

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Excerpt from Finding Home: 

“You having fun?” Kai’s voice spoke low in his ear. It was heavy and graveled like he’d just woken up, making Luca frown, turning his head to look at him. What he saw in Kai’s eyes couldn’t be mistaken for anything else but lust. Not even by a novice like him. Luca pulled in a deep shuddering breath, unable to let go of the hot stare.
Unable to speak he nodded. Kai smiled, as if he could see the affect he had on Luca and loved every moment of it.
“What has you thinking so hard, darlin’?”
Oh, my God, did he just call me darlin’. Luca bit his lip to stifle a groan. Fuck him. He swallowed hard, eyeing Kai as he fantasized about him in his cowboy hat, boots, and the same tight jeans he was wearing now. Shit! He was getting excited. He had to stop. He felt the hot prickle as a blush crept up his neck and spread onto his face.
“Oh, now I really want to know what you’re thinking.” Kai let go of his hand, slipping his arm around his waist and pulling him closer, guiding him to a bench in a small cove of the castle wall overlooking the ocean.
The pressure of Kai’s hand on his hip wasn’t harsh but the affect it had on him was like he’d been gripping him hard, hard enough to leave a mark. Luca squirmed, a soft whimper slipping from his mouth. His prick was pushing hard against the zipper of his jeans, the intensity of the moment. The vivid images of Kai all geared up in his mind, together with his emotions running haywire, and he might just come from listening to Kai speak.
“Oh, God,” he whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut, sitting down abruptly on the bench. He reached down, grabbing himself through his jeans, squeezing hard, trying to stave off his impending orgasm. What the hell was wrong with him? Didn’t he have any self-control? A soft chuckle made him open one eye and peer suspiciously at Kai.
“You think this is funny?” He heard the hurt in his voice and couldn’t help it. Luca didn’t like Kai laughing at him.
“Oh, darlin’.”
He gasped at the endearment, there it was again. It really got to him. The endearment itself, and the way it sounded spilling from Kai’s mouth with that twang. It was like being touched.
Kai sat by his side leaning into Luca, one arm around his shoulders, and the other lifted his chin, to tip his face so they were looking at each other.
“I wasn’t laughing at you but if you could see yourself right now…” He didn’t say anything else. Instead, his eyes roamed over him, drinking him in and making Luca’s pulse beat heavily in his ears.
“How do I look?” Luca swallowed and whispered, unable to look away.
“Like pure sex,” Kai said instantly, smiling. “You make me hard.”
Luca watched as Kai’s fingers circled the wrist of his hand in his lap, bringing it over and discreetly cupping the hard bulge in his jeans. 

Saving Sean, Caddo Norse book 2 teaser. 

Saving Sean, the second book of the Caddo Norse Novels is far from due but for those of you who are waiting here's a teaser: 
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“Son wait we don’t know anything we can’t go out there blind.”
“I don’t care dad. I need to find him. He’s out there alone, probably scared. He needs me!” Reid growled tearing his arm away from his father’s grip. 
He was ready to walk back out there, to shift and find him when Coleman stepped in front of him grabbing him by the shoulders keeping him from going. “Son I understand this hard for you. Being away from your mate.” His head snapped up looking at his father. 
“I’m old but not that old. My sense of smell and eyesight is pretty damn fantastic still if I may say so myself.” He smiled, Reid staring at him, worry taking over his mind and body. He whimpered. 
“Pops I have to find him. I can’t just stand here I need to go search.” His body trembling from the urge to shift, his wolf pushing him to go find their mate. He wanted to growl when no one reacted. What the hell was wrong with them.
“We should let him go pops. I’ll go with him.” He looked at his brother gratefully. Ha someone was at least on his side. 
“If you are going I am going.” Haven stood up with Maya still in his arms clinging to him. “You are going no where without me.” Alex didn’t argue instead he nodded. It was easy to see they were communicating through their link. OK so could the go already. Reid was getting impatient, his wolf was already tearing a hole inside of him for his lack of action. 
“I don’t know about this…” Coleman said with a deep frown. Reid roared out loud so damn frustrated he was about to rip someone’s throat out, the younger children whimper and hid behind the adults, afraid of him. But he didn’t care at that point. Sean was out there alone and they were standing here talking. He was done!
“Calm and easy brother.” Alex’s voice was smooth but demandingly clear for him to back down and take it easy before he scare the little ones to death. He forced himself to lowered his eyes baring his neck immediately giving him a silent apology. He didn’t need to start a struggle or fight with anyone now he just wanted to go. Sean was out there alone in the claws of a beast didn’t they fucking get it! Alone! His mate. If it had been Haven Alex would have torn up heaven and hell to find him. Asshole! He bared his teeth growling low, looking at his brother underneath his lashes not standing down this time. 

The Art of Writing: The Unsubtle Egomaniac

To me writing is like breathing, this is not saying it is always easy or fun, but most of the time it is and even when it isn’t I still can’t think of a single thing I rather do, well besides reading. Words come to me I put them down on paper and the first draft of something is done pretty quickly, unless we are talking about my current WIP Silent Terrorism. The ending of this WIP has been beating me with a frying pan at the back of my head for weeks. But I recently punched him in the face, so we are all sorted out now. Have I told you I don’t condo violence in any shape or form, well unless it’s in consented and called spanking.

Anyways, I seldom to never have trouble getting ideas, my head is full of them, everything from grand love stories that will be sweet enough to make you almost sick to your stomach, to political pieces that will make you wish you hadn’t picked the book up but still keep going. I’d be the first to admit it is not always good words, fun words or easy words but they are words; my words. They are stacked up in que at the back of my mind some waiting kindly for their turn others roaring with anger to get out. I have more conversations with people in my head than I have with people in real life. Let’s just say I sometimes feel slightly schizophrenic.

I am not a person that think first talk/write later, I react and say/write it first and then maybe the oops moment occurs, if we’re all lucky, or if I’m lucky my editor snatch it up. So we are on a touch and go with my blog posts because they are all me. In life out here in the real world people usually say with a smile on their face and a slight shake of their heads, “Phetra that was, hmmm, subtle,” with sarcasm drooping with every word. What they really are trying to say in a vary subtle way, is to get me clued in that I need to change my ways. Since I don’t do subtle, I’m like my ADHD and ASD son there, most of the time I don’t get what they are saying. The rest of the time I simply play stupid and pretend I don’t get it. Most people around me are used to this by now and know when to push and when it's a lost cause to argue. 

I am as impulsive in my writing as I am in my way of being out in the real world. Writing is a way of being alive, I am alive therefore I’m writing might be a good way of putting it. In my writing I always have that one character that will speak his or her mind, not censuring themselves ex. Haven Naranjo from Haven’s Revenge, Charlie Morin from Love of the Game or Johannes Alm for that matter in the same book, even if they have two different approaches to saying what’s on their minds. In Silent Terrorism, you have the rebel reporter, Mattis Andersson, who will walk through fire to get the truth out there and save his friends. 

I assume everyone has heard the expression “I rather live in the world that my mind has created than in the real world”, that sort of wraps up me and how committed, or in need of writing I am. I can’t turn my head off I read a book it is spinning along with the words in the books creating scenes from what I’m reading. When I’m not reading what I have read inspires my mind to come up with new great ideas, I am grocery shopping and people around me doesn’t exist because I’m busy plotting, brainstorming or visualizing my next scene/project. People I know can sometimes stop me as they meet me on the street, breathing hard from running to catch up to me and say. “God what the hell is the matter with you I’ve been calling your name for the past 5 minutes.” My reply will always be, “Really! My bad I didn’t hear you.” Because I haven’t, besides the fact that I have heavy metal blasting in my ears most of the time when I’m out, I just don’t see people. I might not be physically writing but my mind is.

I’m an introvert, and I think that is what people in my life find to be the hardest with me. Because I don’t really need people, unless I am in the mood. That is not saying I don’t enjoy like minded souls when I meet them. People, are for the lack of a better word complicated so I avoid them. I have no problem spending a whole week by myself without real company, writing and reading gives me all the company I need. If you ask those close to me they could probably tell you this, because seldom will you hear me suggesting meeting up with friends for brunch or a walk. I might say I’m taking a walk and having lunch by myself or I might bring one of my kids with me for some one on one and nice mummy and me time. However, one who will bitch and moan more than me, at least on the inside and smile like the good girl I am on the outside, when someone suggest a get together. Ask my domestic partner. He is the calmest person ever who seldom to never gets worked up, but if there’s one thing that annoys him about me it is my lack of interest in spending time with people. But sitting interacting with my characters or people online who feeds my soul that is no problem. 

I don’t think I am alone in this, I rather think for once in my life embarking in this so-called writer's journey I might have found a click of people who are just like me, other writers. I’ve always been the odd man out, easily bored by the company of people because chit chatting about the weather is about as appealing as talking about someone latest cramps, it doesn’t give me anything. It might sound selfish and maybe it is, but all our lives we are taught to adapt to the world, to make sure we act accordingly, behave accordingly, talk accordingly, are courteous and conscientious to other people’s feelings and make sure others are well settled before tending to our own needs. When writing I am allowed to be selfish and just think of my own or my characters needs, the rest of the world's morals and expectations matter not. When I write I can create the world into that place I like to live, kill of the asshole that came into my office the other day and yelled orders because I happen to be the first person he met walking into the building I work in. But bring me a stimulating conversation from an exotic and “swim against the stream” person and I’m game! 

Writing to me is a way of dealing with the world I’m forced to live in, a way to vent all those things that gets to me and change them awful things to something I rather want. To me writing is my way of contributing to changing the world. One person may not be able to do everything but we all can do something. This is one of my many way of doing that something. 

And as for the image choice for this blog post... how can a perv like myself resist. *winks* ​

The Swede: Rubbers and Erasers

I'm reading this book, and without knowing where the author is from its pretty safe to say she's British. It is mostly because of the words she use like dressing gown, I actually had to look that word up because I was like why the f*ck is he wearing a gown, because in my world it's robe or bathrobe. Dressing gown it is something old lady wears to bed, but then when I start thinking no that is night gown, hence looking it up.

In Sweden, when taught English in school, we are taught British English, don't ask me why it is just the way it is and has always been. But sometime around the time I was in sixth grader or something they also started to incorporate American English in our school books because there were words that meant one thing in British English and something different in American English, also British people spell words like colour with an ou and Americans without the u and so on and so forth. 

So here we are learning British English in school but every darn program on TV is 90% American shows, movies, talk shows, you name it. So you think I speak funny, well try speak so everyone understands with 10 years of British school English with 5 years American English and see what you get. *winks*

Well, reading this book got me thinking about an incident when I was 15, I had graduated high school and was going to the US for a year as an exchange student. This was the high life for me! I had been planning for this for years. I had been nagging my parents to let me do this, which I eventually got to do. 

To say to travel to the US alone at the age of 15 that it was scary is an understatement and the fact that I got lost at New York LaGuardia airport wasn't exactly what I had in either when I started my journey. But I lived and I remember a very nice and very good looking man I might add and I still remember this, 20 odd years later, helped me find my way, so I lived to see another day.

Finally settled and less jet lagged I started my Junior year in an American High School, and loved it, it was way different than what I ever thought it would be but I loved it still. Now to the tricky point. Here I was 15 years old, a Swede, with stigma of the Swedish Bikini Team to live up to and let's put it this way I was a nerd I didn't live up to it then and I sure as hell don't now. But there you have it. I wanted to fit in, I was 15 standing out was the devil, I was I think a month into my stay and had by some miracle managed to not fall on my face once. Yay, Go me! There I was having art drawing a tree I think and sit in a circle of people and kindly ask some guy sitting way across from me to please pass me the rubber. 

Fairly harmless, I thought so to until everyone started to giggle and I had no freaking idea why. I only understood, nicely showing from the color of my face, that I said something very wrong. The teacher tried to get them to settle and stop acting silly. I felt awkward both because I had no idea why asking for a rubber caused such frantic giggles. Then the same guy who I asked for this damn square thing, whatever you call it, said something of the sort: "I'm sorry but I don't have any rubbers on me but I'll lend you my erasure." 

Then someone kindly whispered that a rubber was a condom and if I had been blushing before then I probably flamed up at that point, and I remember thinking that I wanted the earth to open up and swallow me whole. 

Again I survived that horror, but I never got live that one down, which is OK, now in retrospect it is rather funny. 

Cover reveal: Finding Home

Finding Home ~~ Coming this December.
Blurb and Cover
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Luka is a first year med student at the University of Gothenburg. He is following in his father’s footsteps, something he’d been programmed to do all his life. He lives a sheltered and still life, with no real friends. Luca would love to change that but doesn’t know how, since he always feels so odd around other people, like he doesn’t quite fit in. There’s so much inside him that wants out, like wanting to become a veterinarian more than a doctor. And the fact that he likes boys and not girls. But he doesn’t tell anyone about that—not even himself.

In comes Kai, an American cowboy in Gothenburg. He’s doing his thesis overseas to broadens his horizons before he does what he has always wanted to do, which is to go back home and run the family ranch. He just happens to see Luca one day leaving class and can’t stop watching the shy guy as he waded his way through the crowd with quick, silent steps, and his head down to avoid eye contact with anyone. For weeks Kai watches him from a distance, trying to figure out how to approach him.
Had he known that spilled coffee and slippery, awkward book bags would have gotten him close to the guy, he might have physically bumped into him a long time ago.

Finding Home is a book with star-crossed lovers meeting and the evil of the wicked witch in the west threatening to crush young love’s every dream!