L.C. Hamilton's Blog

YA Scavenger Hunt

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Welcome! I am L.C. Ireland. 

I’m super exited to be hosting this leg of the Scavanger Hunt! I am representing team pink and I am happy to show the works of May Freighter, including a cover reveal and an exerpt for her latest works.

And now a little about my self. I Live in Ogden Utah with my husband, Isaac, and my cat, Mistique. I am the Theater arts Speacialist at some Elementary schools and I have been directing and writng plays for over 10 years now. I studied at BYU Idaho, and got a degree in Theatre and Speach Education. In my free time I enjoy drawing, video games (Zelda is my jam!), singing, and playing board games. 

SCAVANGER HUNT RULES:

DIRECTIONS: Below, you’ll notice that I’ve listed my favorite number. Collect the favorite numbers of all the authors on TEAM PINK, and then add them up (don’t worry, you can use a calculator!)

HINT: THE SECRET NUMBER IS HIGHLIGHTED IN PINK!

ENTRY FORM: Once you’ve added up all the numbers, make sure you fill out the form here to officially qualify for the grand prize. Only entries that have the correct number will qualify.

RULES: Open internationally, anyone below the age of 18 should have a parent or guardian’s permission to enter. To be eligible for the grand prize, you must submit the completed entry form by SUNDAY, October 8th, at noon Pacific Time. Entries sent without the correct number or without contact information will not be considered.

On this hunt, you not only get access to exclusive content from each participating YA author, you also get a secret number. Add up the numbers, and enter it for a chance to win a major prize–one lucky winner will receive at least one book from each author on my team in the hunt! But play fast. This contest (and all the exclusive bonus material) will only be online until noon PST on Sunday, October 8th!

There are SEVEN contests going on simultaneously as well as a bonus contest and you can enter one or all! I am a part of the PINK TEAM but there is also a RED TEAM,  BLUE TEAM,  PURPLE TEAM, GREEN TEAM, ORANGE TEAM & GOLD TEAM! Check out each team for a chance to win SEVEN different sets of signed books!

If you’d like to find out more about the hunt, see links to all the authors participating, and see the full list of prizes up for grabs, go to the YA Scavenger Hunt page.

Now that all the technical stuff is out of the way, I’ll introduce the author I am hosting on this hunt.

I am super excited to be hosting May Freighter:

About May:

May Freighter is an internationally bestselling author from Dublin, Ireland. She writes Urban Fantasy, Paranormal Romance, and Sci-Fi mysteries that will keep you entertained, mystified, and hopefully craving more. Her only pets are cacti. They’re the only things that survived. It may be too dangerous to entrust her with an animal while she’s engrossed in writing.

On sunny, rainy, and overcast days, she spends her time with her fictional friends, putting them through dangerous adventures while wishing them the best of luck. Her hobbies are photography, drawing, and plotting different ways of characters’ demise. 

Author Links:
Website: https://mayfreighterblog.wordpress.com/

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/May-Freighter/e/B01JJ39R0C

Twitter: https://twitter.com/MayFreighter

FB page: https://www.facebook.com/authormayfreighter/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/mayfreighter/

Bonus Content Cover Reveal & Preview 

DARK AFFILIATIONS Blurb:

Fairy tale endings aren’t real. 
Moving in with Lucious was meant to be Helena’s happily ever after. She gave up everything for him, but he’s no longer the same man he used to be. The arrival of two European delegates proves to be more than their strained relationship can handle. One wrong move and the soul-bond they share could become a prison for eternity.

Maya has received orders to return to the Demon Realm. Queen Baal is ready to step down and name a successor, but the princess is nowhere to be found. To bring the princess back before the nobles take matters into their grabby hands, Maya is forced to work with her demon fiancé. With the princess gone, the throne in danger, and an archdemon loose on the realm, Maya and Eirik have to put aside their differences and work together. Easy peasy, right?

Dark Affiliations Teaser


HELENA

Helena’s new home was beautiful. The Royal vampires—mainly Ealdraed and Laclia—paid through the roof to gift this enormous castle to the new European Council, and she was lucky to be among those who were permitted to stay there. Her luck didn’t end there. Perri, too, was allowed to remain there by Hans who seemed reluctant to admit his true feelings for the girl. Too bad for him, most of the vampires in the building and Helena had long since figured out that he was smitten with Perri.

Tonight was a night of celebration. Everyone had finally settled into their new home and new life.

Why wouldn’t I be happy?

She looked at her beaded gold and green maxi dress in the full-length mirror that hung on the wall. Next to her, Perri was trying on a knee-length strapless purple dress that hugged her curves.  

“Do you think this is too revealing?” Perri asked, placing her hands on her hips and giving another twirl.

Helena smiled. “Are you worried Hans will make you put on a baggy sweater for indecent exposure?”

Her friend pouted. “I wish! He may look at me now and then but never long enough to give me any clue whether he likes me or not.”

“Don’t think too hard about it. He’s probably shy around women.”

“He’s not shy around you,” Perri pointed out.

Helena shrugged. “I’m not the one he’s dating.”

“I don’t think we’re dating, either. I mean, these rings symbolise marriage, but we never actually got married. At the time, he didn’t seem to want to go through with it. If the spirits didn’t force us into a relationship, I think we would remain as strangers even now.”

Grasping her friend’s shoulders, Helena made Perri look at her. “Breathe. If he didn’t like you or didn’t want you here, you’d be in Scotland, cleaning the floors or dusting the furnishings.”

“You have a point.”

“Good. Now relax and let’s have fun. Alexander is bringing his girlfriend with him, and I am dying to meet the woman who has managed to melt his iceberg of a heart.”

“I haven’t met Alexander before. Is he a good person?”

Helena snorted. Alexander and good were definitely not the words she would ever use in the same sentence. He was arrogant, self-centred, stingy with money, and complained about her day and night. It was probably the gift from above that he found someone else to focus his attention on.

“Ladies, are you finished?” Lucious called, leaning his side against the door.

“Yes.” Helena looped her arm through Perri’s. She winked at her friend. “Shall we?”

Perri giggled. “We shall.”

They left the room, and Lucious, who wore a black tuxedo better than a GQ model, led them through the castle halls in the direction of the east wing where the Council’s offices, kitchen, dining room, two ballrooms, one of which was later converted into a training room, and the library were located. The living quarters of the Council members and their counterparts were in the west wing. The vampire hounds who worked for the Council had their own bedrooms located on the first floor. When Helena was exploring this monstrosity of a building, she had lost count of the bedrooms sometime after twenty-five. The bathrooms weren’t far behind in numbers, even though her vampire neighbours didn’t seem to use them for more than a shower after a hunt or to make sure they didn’t look like the dead first thing in the morning.

The few hounds who passed them by bowed their heads to Lucious. When her boyfriend wasn’t looking in their direction, she noticed their glares directed at her. Vampires didn’t like humans involved in their politics. Not that Helena and Perri had the opportunity to sit at the big boys’ table and discuss the problems in Europe. But the distrust of the vampires around her kept her on her toes. She wasn’t welcome in their world as much as she no longer fit in with the normal humans. Her life had become tainted by darkness to the point where she lost track of what the word ‘normal’ meant. One of her best friends was a demon, for God’s sake! As far as Helena knew, that wasn’t the best conversation starter in the human circles unless she wanted to get splashed with a bucket of holy water.

Lucious stopped at the French doors that led to the main dining room and asked over his shoulder. “Are you girls ready to meet the guests?”

Helena smirked. “You’re more excited than we are. Is it because you and Alexander made up?”

He gave her a lopsided smile. “All thanks to you, my dear.”

“Then let’s go in and meet his better half.”

The three of them entered the grand dining room. Golden chandeliers decorated the ceiling and the light reflected off the tiny crystals made them twinkle like the stars in the night’s sky. To match the generous amount of light in the room, the furniture was an ensemble of whites and golds. The large table at the centre, that seated twenty, already had Hans, Alexander, and a beautiful redhead sitting there.

Helena’s eyes were drawn to the woman. She was young, probably in her mid to late twenties. Her skin was smooth and her gem-like amber eyes were glistening with happiness every time she looked at Alexander. She definitely liked the guy and looked stunning in a one-shoulder black dress.

Lucious took Helena’s hand, making her separate from Perri who quickly made her way to Hans’ side. He guided her to a seat and pulled out a chair for her.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, slipping into the offered seat and smiling at Alexander and his plus one. His girlfriend was much more beautiful from up close. “Hi, I’m Helena. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She extended her hand across the table, and the woman shook it, returning her smile.

“I’m Abigail. I’ve heard a lot about you and Lucious from Alexander.”

“I hope it was all good things,” Helena commented, noticing Abigail’s Irish accent.

“He made it seem like you two went through a lot to get together,” Abigail replied.

Alexander cleared his throat. “Shouldn’t you introduce yourself to the others?”

Abigail glanced at Hans and Perri who offered up their names in turn.

They spent the next twenty minutes talking about Abigail and her dream to become a serious journalist. When she was describing how she and Alexander had first met, she animatedly used her hands to accommodate the story. “I had to wear the dullest clothes I could find. You know, a skirt to my ankles, granny socks, a blouse that’s two sizes too big, and glasses that covered most of my face. After the interview, I stumbled on Alexander’s Wednesday entertainment for his vampire clientele and ended up handcuffed to a chair in his office.”

Everyone burst out laughing, and Helena asked, “What did you do next?”

“I escaped, of course! My dad is a locksmith. There is no way a simple lock can keep me contained.” Abigail chuckled.

Lucious winked at Abigail. “If the Council ever decides to participate in a bank robbery, we will know whom to contact.”

Helena playfully shoved his shoulder. “You can’t be serious.”

At that, Alexander folded his arms. “She will not be participating in any Council business. It is too dangerous.”

Lucious lifted his glass of bourbon to his lips. “Do not fret. I would not dream of putting your woman in danger.”

“What about grand theft auto?” Abigail suggested. “I can boost a car or two.”

Hans cleared his throat. “That certainly is an interesting skillset you have.”

Perri nodded. “Can you teach me? Is it hard?”

“It’s easier with the old cars but with the right tools you can pretty much do anything these days,” Abigail said.

Helena’s brows rose. “Me too. I want to learn!” She hadn’t expected Alexander’s girlfriend to be someone so interesting and full of life. On the contrary, she thought his woman would be one of the world’s top models or an erotic actress. Abigail was a breath of fresh air, and Alexander seemed protective of her to a fault.

“We’ll be staying at a hotel in London for a week. You girls should come out with me sometime to explore the sights and the nightclubs. I can’t wait to see what this place has to offer.”

“I’m in,” Helena agreed.

Perri twisted her hands in her lap and nibbled on her lower lip. “If you’ll have me, I would love to join.”

Lucious caught Helena’s hand under the table. “You cannot go without an escort. It is too dangerous.”

Hans gave a nod of his head. “Indeed, there are a lot of people who cannot wait for a chance to harm us.”

Abigail’s smile crumbled. “Did I ask for too much?”

Shaking his head, Alexander interjected, “That is the reason why I didn’t want to take a seat on the Council that Lucious offered me. I would be confined to these walls and Europe’s territory. Living a life like this is the same as being in a cage of your own making.”

Lucious’ expression sobered. “You may be right. It is not a life any of us chose without much thought.” He lifted Helena’s hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. “That is why I cannot thank this woman enough for staying by my side despite the limitations placed on her.”

Helena saw genuine warmth and love reflected in his eyes. Her heart fluttered, and she smiled unknowingly. Then, an idea struck her. “What if we disguise ourselves?”

Lucious shook his head. “It is still too—”

“Dangerous, I know,” Helena finished for him. “But we won’t go to a weird place. Alexander has a nightclub in the city. It will be a safe environment and no one will recognise us.” Helena fired a pleading look to Abigail.

“Absolutely,” Abigail said. “I will stake my reputation on making these girls the most unattractive, unpolished, cougar look-alikes. You won’t even recognise them.”

Perri clapped her hands. “Oh, I used to love dressing up when I was a little girl.”

“See?” Helena nudged Lucious. “We will be completely fine.”

Lucious faced Alexander. “Can I trust you to double the security and keep an eye on them during and after they are finished with their night out? I would prefer it if they had a couple of personal bodyguards.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Hans mumbled.

Helena crossed her arms and reclined in her seat. “You guys really should learn to trust us more.”

“My dear, it is not you I don’t trust, it is everyone else. If anything were to happen to you, I would turn this world inside out and upside down to find you until you were safely returned.”

“That would sound romantic if it didn’t also sound like a prerequisite for Taken,” Helena commented.

Abigail and Perri laughed while the men didn’t seem to get the joke.

Alexander rested his elbows on the table. “I will triple the security and assign a personal driver to the ladies. They will be safe as long as they don’t deviate from the plan.”

The women looked at each other and nodded.

Abigail clasped her hands together. “Looks like the fun is on!”

Helena raised a glass of her champagne. “Let’s have a toast.”

The others nodded and lifted their drinks of choice into the air.

“To new beginnings,” Abigail said.

“To new beginnings,” the others echoed.

LUCIOUS

Four in the morning arrived faster than Lucious had anticipated. Alexander and his woman declined his offer to stay the night. They were more inclined to spend their time in the hotel room that was a thirty-minute drive away. Lucious couldn’t blame them. Being in this castle was daunting. And, as he looked down at Helena’s sleeping form in his arms, he sighed. She appeared to be at peace, almost happy judging by the small smile that curved her lips.

He made his way to their quarters, careful not to shake her awake. During the dinner tonight, he meant what he said. He would tear the world apart, brick by brick if she was gone from his life. That thought thrilled and terrified him. She had become an integral part of him. Without her presence in his daily life, he knew not what to expect.

Holding her up with one arm, he opened the door and walked in. He laid her on the bed, and she moaned as she rolled onto her side, away from him.

“I am pleased you had fun,” he whispered.

There was a light tap on the door, drawing his attention to Grim who had a sense of urgency about his posture.

Lucious covered Helena with the quilt and waved for Grim to follow him to the living area adjacent to the bedroom. Once they were behind a closed set of doors, Lucious studied the hound. “What do you have to report?”

“This came in just now, Master Lucious.” Grim produced a black envelope with a crimson wax seal on it.

Lucious took the envelope from the hound and turned it over in his hands. “Do you know what it is?”

“A challenge card, sir.”

His eyes widened. “You cannot be serious. Already?”

“It would appear so.”

There was no escaping a challenge for the seat of power if one was a Councilman. Lucious had no choice but to take the challenger on in the fight to the death or be executed for not complying with the laws. Had Helena not been with him, he would have chosen to end his journey. But to keep her safe and from harm’s way, he would fight with everything in him.

Lucious tore the letter open and read the information on the card. “The challenger will arrive in two days.” He met Grim’s fearful eyes. “Do not worry for my safety. I will defeat them, whoever they may be.” He slipped the letter into his pocket and added, “I want you to keep an eye on Helena. Keep her safe. Should anything happen, I want you to report to me immediately.”

“I will do as you ask,” Grim responded and bowed at the middle. “Should I get someone to spar with you in the training room?”

“Ask whoever isn’t out on the hunt. I will be there shortly.”

“Understood, sir.”

The hound left his quarters, and Lucious made his way back to the bedroom. He sat on the edge of the bed and gazed at Helena’s sleeping face. Their lives were forever bound with a soul-bond. He could not lose to this challenger. For that to happen, he needed to become stronger and force the other vampires to fear him. Eliza’s rule lasted for two thousand years for a reason. She was ruthless in her judgements and never showed a weakness to anyone, even those closest to her. It would be foolish of him not to take a page from her book and learn everything he could. If he wished to survive long enough to experience any happiness with Helena, he needed to win every fight that came his way.

Behind him, he closed the door and scanned the hallway. The Council’s grounds were typically teaming with life when night came. Tonight, the silence was tangible. Lucious shoved his hands into his pockets and strode to the other side of the building where the training room was located. He would have asked Hans for a sparring match but knew that that vampire was busy taking a stroll with his lover in the gardens. It would be inappropriate for Lucious to intrude on their time together. Hans was a good man and dedicated to his job as a stand-in Councilman. In Lucious’ eyes, Hans had the capacity to become a great man in years to come. He only had to believe in himself and step out of the shadow that Vincent had created. Such feats did not happen overnight, Lucious knew that. It would take years—decades even—to see Hans come into his true potential.

At the door to the training room, he paused and listened for the sounds coming from the inside. He picked up on someone using the targets for knife-throwing practice. Taking his tuxedo jacket off, he draped it over his arm and entered the room with a smile on his face.

“Andrea, it is good to see you keeping your skills sharp,” he commented when he identified the hound.

She stopped what she was doing, moving her arms to her sides like a soldier. Her soot-coloured hair fell around her shoulders, matching the black attire she wore from head to toe. “I heard from Grim you wished to spar with me. Do you want to do it now?”

Lucious nodded and tossed his jacket on the floor. He undid the buttons of his shirt’s sleeves and rolled them back until they reached his elbows.

In the meantime, Andrea stretched her arms and legs. “Would you like to work on your abilities or fighting?”

“I want to practice my fire ability, so I suggest you tie your hair to keep it from getting caught in in the flames.”

She rearranged her hair into a tight bun and rolled her shoulders. “Begin whenever you are ready, sir.”

Lucious closed his eyes and released the hold on his mental shields. The energy he had kept hidden spilt out like seawater breaking a dam. He heard Andrea muffling her groan with the back of her hand. She was almost the same age as him in vampire years, but she hadn’t developed any ability. He had toyed with the idea of allowing the few hounds he trusted to drink his blood to strengthen them. But such an action could send them into a descent, and he could not spare any of them as the events were unfolding.

His irises were burning bright red when he opened his eyes. The power of fire warmed his veins and spread from his centre to his fingertips. He raised his hand, palm towards her, and fired a fireball in her direction which she dodged with ease. It was becoming easier to control this power unlike the ability to see the future or his sire’s ability of speed. They were never stable enough for him to tap into them.

“This kind of attack is easy to avoid if you expect it.” Andrea threw a knife that brushed past his ear. “A counterattack could kill you if you’re not careful.”

“You are right. I should use it when the opponent’s attention is elsewhere.” He allowed for the fire to engulf his hand all the way to his wrist. Charging at her, he started fighting with his fists while keeping the flames alive.

Andrea dodged and parried his attacks. She managed to land a punch on his stomach when he was changing stances for better balance. The pain shattered his concentration and the fire extinguished.

She jumped back and planted her hands on her hips. “Your ability is unstable. If all it takes is one good hit, then you cannot rely on it in battle.”

“I know. It is hard to maintain the same level of concentration and focus on the fight at the same time.”

“Master Lucious, may I suggest you try meditation?”

He burst into laughter. “Do you want me to become the next Buddha?”

She rolled her eyes. “It allows you to get in touch with your inner self. If you think about it, you already do a brief meditation before you summon the flame. So, why not try to explore more options?”

“I have two days before my challenger arrives. I do not believe it would be a good idea for me to waste the days on daydreaming.” He conjured the flames again and turned his hand as he watched them dancing along his skin. His fingers curled into a clenched fist. “Let’s continue.”

Without further ado, he attacked.

You can pre-order DARK AFFILIATIONS here: https://www.amazon.com/Dark-Affiliations-Fantasy-Helena-Hawthorn-ebook/dp/B0796XPGMF

Or add it to your TBR list on Goodreads.

Want a FREE Urban Fantasy novella from Helena Hawthorn Series?

Download DESIRED.

And don’t forget to enter the contest for a chance to win a ton of books by me, Mary Freighter, and more! To enter, you need to know that my favorite number is  34 . Add up all the favorite numbers of the authors on the pink team and you’ll have all the secret code to enter for the grand prize!

Thank you so much for visiting my website! While you’re here don’t forget to enter the Rafflecopter bonus contest I am running exclusively during the YA Scavenger Hunt. One lucky winner will get a free ebook copy of my new release, Horrid!


a Rafflecopter giveaway

“Royal Deception” by Denae Christine

 

In a world where your class is decided by your shifting ability, Prince Symon is at the top of the food chain. Unfortunately for him, that also makes him a target of a mysterious and dastardly enemy that wants his kingdom…with or without his cooperation.

Overall Rating : 

Cover Rating: 3/10  Didn’t love the cover of this book. It appears to have been illustrated in colored pencil, rendering the colors washed out and unappealing.

The world of Royal Deception is filled with shape shifters who can shift only parts of their bodies. The horse shifters are centaurs, the fish shifters are mermaids, and so forth. At the bottom of the social ladder are the animal shifters, who are blamed for all of mankind’s problems. In one kingdom, the animal shifters are banded with gold that prevents them from shifting. In another, they are enslaved. In another, they are all killed. At the top of the social ladder are the shifters who can shift their arms into swords. The royals can shift both arms, the nobles can shift one. These shifters make up the upper class of this fantasy world.

Symon, the protagonist, is the eldest son of the king of Arton. The son of two royals, he is guaranteed to be a royal himself. As he strives to win his father’s affection, Symon begins to understand what an imperfect world he has been born into thanks to the influence of his gold-banded, animal-shifting tutor. As the future king, Symon’s life is constantly in peril by some unknown antagonist called Claur. As such, Symon is stifled by his parents’ desires to keep him safe from harm.

Symon is a lovably flawed protagonist. He isn’t particularly skilled or handsome or charming. He struggles with feelings of inadequacy, with frustration, and with fear. But when it really matters, he is brave and selfless. Watching him grow and develop his sense of right and wrong is fascinating and, at times, heartbreaking.

Royal Deception is an exciting adventure with a few fantastic characters. I found the plot gripping and the world intriguing. I was prepared to give this book a high rating … right up until the end. The ending is not fantastic. In fact, it’s downright bad. I found myself rolling my eyes and groaning as the story took a nose-dive right at the end.

(Warning: Spoilers) Almost word-for-word, it becomes the inciting moment of Disney’s The Lion King. I had actually really liked the book right up until the climax. By the end, I just rolled my eyes. I know the idea of a horrible cliff-hanger ending is to entice readers to buy the next book, but it just doesn’t work for this series. There’s a reason that Mufasa dies and Simba flees at the beginning of The Lion King and not at the end. There was no catharsis or even excitement for the sequel. Instead, the ending left me stunned and disgusted. The author spent the entire book building Symon up to be a brave, empathetic character, only to have him act as a total coward at the end. None of the many, many conflicts are actually resolved in the end. The world is still a terrible place full of racism and classism and the reader is no longer even rooting for Symon, who is powerless and a coward. In my opinion, this book would have been far better if it had ended at the 3/4 point with the characters having a win, and then starting the next book with the ending of this one. Instead, the most exciting part of the book is about 75% of the way through, followed by chapter after chapter of surprisingly boring politics and the same nightmare over and over, and then an excruciatingly cringe-worthy ending that just killed the whole book for me. 

Pros: The author has clearly put a lot of thought into the world-building of this book. Every kingdom is fleshed out and interesting. Characters reference historical figures and events that make you believe the world is real. The half-shifting thing was odd to me at first, but the author sells it so well. Symon is a fascinating character, met with bias at every turn. I loved watching him struggle to understand what to believe. There are some really exciting scenes and plots twists that will keep you turning pages.

Cons: There were so many races and ethnicities and titles that it was hard to keep everything straight. There were also a ton of characters, many of whom had very similar names. I almost needed to take notes to keep track of everyone. Symon’s nightmare repeating basically every other chapter got old really fast. Yes, he’s being haunted by a repeating nightmare. We get it. The book also suffered some pacing issues. A few very exciting scenes were separated by long, long expansions of nothing. No character growth, no plot revelations, just long stretches of nothing happening. And the ending. Oh man, the ending was just like getting knifed in the back. In the end, the characters and the world-building just aren’t enough to save the story from its own awful climax. Instead of wanting to read the rest of the series, I lost faith in the author. Probably not the intended result. A 5-star review became a 3-star review really fast when I felt betrayed by the author. What a pity.

If you would like to read Royal Deception for yourself, you can find it HERE.

 

The Sydney Valentine Series by Danielle L. Davis

I recently had the opportunity to read the first three books of Danielle L. Davis’ Sydney Valentine series. The series is a police procedural following the investigations of detective Sydney Valentine. Sydney is a sassy, down-to-earth protagonist who has realistic family relationships and believable dating drama. She feels very real. She takes her work seriously and treats her coworkers with respect. In every aspect of her work, she is a professional. I appreciated reading a detective series in which the detective actually followed the rules. Sydney never bends the rules to solve a case. She never spies on suspects, never searches their homes without a warrant, never trespasses where she doesn’t belong. I tend to get annoyed when cops in books and movies have to frequently bend or break the law in order to uphold it. I internally cheered a little every time Sydney asked a suspect to sign a consent form. If I was ever caught up in a homicide investigation, Sydney is the kind of detective I would want working on my case.

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Book 1: The Protector

Overall Review:  

Cover Review:  7/10. The cover is crisp and portrays the feel and genre of the book very well. It just lacks that WOW factor that would make me want to pick it up off the shelf.

I have mixed feelings about The Protector. The first and longest in the series, The Protector introduces the protagonist, Sydney Valentine, and the main cast for the series, including her sister and brother-in-law, her partner, and other coworkers who will make appearances throughout the series. Of the three books, I found this mystery to be the most compelling. Bodies are found with Scrabble tiles in their mouths. As the body count rises, Sydney receives more clues that could lead to the killer. It really is a very exciting book! The big problem with this book is the sheer number of characters and names tossed around. It was difficult to follow the investigation because I had to keep stopping to figure out who they were talking about. I actually drew a flowchart to help myself keep track. Despite this one being my favorite of the series, I am giving it only three stars because of the constant who’s-who confusion. Don’t let that deter you, though! This one has the best ending of the whole series. It will really make you go, whaaat!?

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Book 2: Criminal Negligence

Overall Review:  

Cover Review:  10/10. This whole series received new covers when I was still half-way through reading them. When I saw the new cover for this book, I actually gasped in delight. What a beautiful cover!

In Criminal Negligence, Sydney and her partner Bernie are faced with two separate crimes involving separate unidentified bodies. The first is found in a hot tub of a house belonging to a wealthy doctor. The second is found on a jogging trail, apparently a hit-and-run. These two deaths don’t seem at all related. Yet, as Syndey and Bernie uncover the clues, they find more evidence to connect the two murders. But how do you catch the killer (or killers?) when the bodies are unclaimed? I found this book the most frustrating of the series, which might have been intentional. The detectives seemed to spin their wheels a lot in this one, and it took me basically until the end to figure out the connection between the suspects and the crime. Crimes novel aren’t my normal read, though. So maybe the more experienced in this genre would figure it out before I did. Despite my frustration, this book had plenty of excitement and drama and the storytelling is solid.

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Book 3: Mega Dead

Overall Review:  

Cover Review: 8/10. I don’t love this cover as much as Criminal Negligence, but it does make sense for the story and is very professional. I’m a total sucker for professional cover designs.

Mega Dead is the third installment of the Sydney Valentine series, in which detective Sydney Valentine and her partner attempt to solve the murder of Teena Travis, a judge on the popular talent show television series called Mega Star. Teena is the “mean” judge, whose brutal honesty is part of the reason the show is doing so well. Though it seems that she would have tons of enemies, her fans all loved her. With no real suspects, who could have possibly killed her? Of the three books in the series, this was the only one that I guessed right on the killer! I was very proud of myself. This book raised the stakes considerably when Sydney’s twin sister gets caught up in the drama. I finished Mega Dead in one sitting. It’s a page-turner!

If you enjoy mysteries, especially crime and police procedural mysteries, I recommend this series. There is some language, but otherwise, the whole series was surprisingly clean. A strong and believable female lead drives this series of murder mysteries that will keep you guessing. You can click any of the images on this post to go directly to the Amazon listing for these books.

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I Forgot to Love the Stillness

All my life, I have wanted to be a writer. Lately, I have been very fortunate to see my writing career begin to take off. I have my first paying commissioned work as a ghostwriter. I’ve written two well-received novels. I’ve started a side business helping other authors rework their blurbs or back-copy for their books. I even get paid to read – basically a dream come true for a bookworm like me. All of my hard work and dedication is starting to pay off. I haven’t quit my day job, but I no longer need my day job to support my writing. I make enough with my writing to support it on its own. I am in the very midst of an exhilarating and terrifying transition from a hobby writer to a professional writer.

My mindset needed to change when I made the commitment to make a living out of my hobby. Suddenly the activities I used to relax were the source of my stress. The need to produce weighed heavily on me. I filled every moment of my conscious life with business. I wrote blog posts while sitting in the pews at church. I read all night long. I wrote and wrote and wrote instead of basically everything else. I began to resent the moments of silence and stillness when I just couldn’t produce anymore. If I wasn’t reading or writing or researching, I was wasting time.

In reality, I wasting myself away.

I was burning out. Fast. I still had a full-time day job which required a great deal of creativity and energy. Then I would get home from that job and lock myself in my office and try to churn out even more creativity and energy. I was working myself into a frenzy that was making me physically, emotionally, and creatively ill.

And for all the time I spent stressing out about work and my writing, I actually wasn’t being very productive. How could I be? I was too stressed! My lack of productivity would then cause me even more stress. It was a vicious cycle. I felt like I had to be creating at all times or else I was betraying my dreams. Every waking moment was focused on writing or my day job. Even in the shower and on the drive to work, my mind was whirring away with endless to-do lists. Work was consuming me. Instead of fulfilling me and raising me to a higher plane of existence, I found myself developing grudges against the work I loved. Both my beloved day job and my writing became insurmountable obstacles.

My husband was worried about me. I wasn’t sleeping. I wasn’t eating. I wasn’t helping around the house. He knew I was stretched too thin, but his attempts to steer me back to sanity were met with emotional backlash.  I was falling apart.

One day, I rushed through the door and dropped my purse on the table. I hurried into my office and powered up my computer. I was exhausted and hungry. I should have gone to the gym. But going to the gym meant sacrificing an hour of time I could have spent writing.  My husband wouldn’t be home for another hour. This was the perfect time to hammer out more of those precious words that would become my next book. My readers were getting antsy for the next sequel. If I wanted to make a living like some of the other indie authors I knew, I needed to write and publish way faster.

I opened my word processor, placed my cursor on the page –

Nothing.

I froze. My mind turned off like someone had flipped a light switch. This wasn’t writer’s block. This wasn’t my mind wandering. This wasn’t me getting lost on the internet again. This was complete and total nothingness. Like, I couldn’t even remember my name. I just stared at the blinking cursor in a stupor.

I need to write. My mind finally kicked back in. But that was it. No inspiration, no words. Just my mostly-empty mind on repeat: I need to write. I need to write.

I broke down. I yelled so loud the neighbors must have heard me. I slammed my fists on the keyboard. I kicked my desk. I wanted to be able to produce. I needed this. I was finally taking off, finally confident that I could make writing into a career. I couldn’t just bottom out like this. I knew I would have to work hard to produce books I would be proud of. I knew that. But I had never considered that I could work myself to the breaking point. I never considered that my mind could just shut down on me like this. I felt betrayed by my own mind, my own muse.

In classic L.C. style, I thought: If I’m not writing, what else can I be doing? I pulled up my mental to-do list. I was too mad and too … blank? uninspired? … to stay at my computer. So I decided I would get up and do the dishes.

Normally, I would load up a podcast or a youtube video while I was doing chores. But today I was mad and decided to put my computer in time out. I went out into the quiet kitchen and started unloading the dishwasher. As usual, I tried to force my mind to focus on the business of writing, on perfecting the prioritization of my to-do list, on making up for the lost time since I apparently couldn’t write when I needed to. Immediately I felt exhausted, frustrated, and mad. I felt my chest grow tight with tension. I wanted to throw a dish across the room just to hear it shatter. I was about to have a panic attack in the middle of my kitchen.

I took a deep breath and decided just to focus on the act of emptying the dishwasher. Simple enough, right? Simple and boring. Boring was exactly what I needed. My mind took off as it does everytime I do a boring, repetitive activity. But this time, I didn’t try to force myself to focus on any certain thing. I just let my mind go. It was like letting an antsy 2nd-grader out to recess on a beautiful day. My mind went on a trip. I wandered from thought to thought until I was dancing around the kitchen, acting out a scene I had never considered for my current project. A scene that was just right. I was actually having fun again.

And that’s when it hit me: I needed the stillness.

My imagination needed the chance to roam. My mind couldn’t handle the strict regimen I had forced myself to endure. My imagination was the reason I wanted to be a writer in the first place. Yet, as soon as I started making money on my writing, I turned around and handcuffed my imagination. Then I wondered why it wasn’t working.

As a teenager, I wrote prolifically. I wrote all the time. But I also spent a lot of time daydreaming. In between classes (and sometimes during), in the car, on walks, in my room, doing chores. I loved the stillness, the time my imagination took its walks. That was when I cultivated some of my best ideas. That was also when I recharged the energy I needed to focus on work and writing. I didn’t realize it at the time because it was natural to me. Daydreaming in the stillness was just part of who I was. I had always been a dreamer, lost in my thoughts. But as an adult, I attempted to re-program myself to always be alert, always be focused, always be producing. I was trying to automate my passion. I just couldn’t do it.

I personally believe that my mind blanked on me in a final act of self-defense. I was caught up in a destructive spiral of exhaustion and frenzy. I know if I had kept it up much longer something would have snapped. I needed to remind myself to love the stillness, to let my thoughts lead me instead of trying to force creativity to happen.

And just like that, I could write again. I could ignore the word count and just let myself tell a good story. Which was all I really wanted, anyway. My muse hadn’t abandoned me. I had chased it away.

I needed to remember to love the stillness.

“Agent Apple: The Shy Spy” by Ginger Lee Malacko

Overall Rating: 

Cover Rating: 7/10  The cover was illustrated by the author and captures her vision very well. I’m not a fan of all the gray, but the cover is cute, eye-catching, and perfect for the Middle Grade audience.

Truly Daniels is horribly shy. She goes out of her way to avoid any attention. She is so good at hide-and-seek that no one will play with her anymore. If there’s one thing that Truly Daniels is good at, it’s hiding.

But hiding gets her into trouble when she accidentally witnesses a stranger and his associates plotting the murder of a local congresswoman. She tells her mom, who tells the FBI, who tells the CIA, and suddenly Truly Daniels finds herself as a CIA asset. When the congresswoman is found dead and Truly is kidnapped, she learns that her foe is the wealthy and powerful leader of a very dangerous terrorist organization. Now, her hiding might be exactly what the CIA needs to bring Ptolemy Narrow and The Flood to justice.

Agent Apple: The Shy Spy is a delightfully fun story full of classic spy tropes such as the smooth spy, the double agent, explosive chase scenes, and plenty of fun reveals that had me at the edge of my seat. If you are a fan of action-adventure stories, you will love this book! Each of the main characters undergoes some character development throughout the story, and they make a surprisingly effective spy team. Ptolemy Narrow was a fantastic villain with a surprisingly devious plot that had me captivated. I could not read this fast enough!

Agent Apple is a truly delightful tale of adventure and espionage, with a great cast, a riveting plot, and great lessons learned along the way.

Pros: Truly was a delightful character. I enjoyed watching her learn and grow and face some of her own prejudices. I liked the fact that, while there were fun chase scenes and explosions, the majority of their time spent as spies was decidedly less Hollywood-ish. The conflict was awesome and really had me at the edge of my seat the whole time. The author was quite skilled at upping the stakes again and again until it really looked like winning would simply be impossible. I was so invested.

Cons: The book did seem to drag in the middle. When I first received the book, the formatting was terrible. I contacted the author and asked if I could fix it for her. 20 minutes later (thanks to Vellum, my new favorite software program) and I had a much easier-to-read book in my hand. Knowing that the author was also the graphic designer, I was quite surprised that there wasn’t an “agent apple” apple for the chapter headings to help solidify the branding.

Favorite Quote: “The hard truth is that the only thing stopping a person, any person, from being a bully or a criminal is choice.”

You can get your hands on a copy of Agent Apple: The Shy Spy HERE.

Check out the “Codex Blair” series by author Izzy Shows!

Check out Izzy Show’s Codex Blair series! The third book in the series, Dark Descent, released this week!

Book 1: Grave Mistake

I am Blair Sheach. Screw up. Outcast. Wizard.

My life will never be the same. Let’s just say, new found powers do not a hero make, and I’ve never been an exception. It was supposed to be a simple case: find the client’s deadbeat, cheating husband, collect money, and finally pay my rent. Turns out the wanker is a necromancer hell bent on destroying London. Turns out necromancers are only part of the problem in a city infested by vampires and demons. And magic cops aren’t any better at cleaning them up than mundane ones. Then there’s me, I’m no one special. Just the last line of defense.

I’m out of luck and out of time. And to save my city, the decision I have to make is one I can’t take back.

Grave Mistake can be purchased HERE. 

 

 

Book 2: Blood Hunt

Wizard without a license. Defender of London.

The Hunter in the Darkness. Not a title I wanted, but that’s who I am now. Vampires are trying to destroy my city. We’re one mistake away from the world knowing about magic, but the vampires don’t care. They just crave their next fix. I have to stop them, but I can’t risk using the demonic powers I have. Whatever lurks inside me, it’s dark, and it’s hungry. I will find a way to fight on my own.

Vampires are not the only evil in this world.

Blood Hunt can be purchased HERE. 

 

 

Book 3: Dark Descent

A succubus. A wizard. A deadly addiction.

Sex kills. Hard to believe, but that’s what we’re dealing with. A succubus is on the loose. She’s dark, hungry, and ancient. In a world of monsters, age is power, and she has both. Something is pushing her to feed on my kind, and if I don’t figure it out and stop her, she will kill all of us. I have to stop her, and learn to control the demonic power within me. It’s twisting me, tainting me, I can feel its power growing. Dealing with a demon got me into this, let’s see if it can get me out.

I am the monster that hunts monsters.

Dark Descent can be purchased HERE. 

Stop Telling Me To Wear Makeup

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I was at the mall on a blustery day in January purchasing some hair products from one of those little booths placed strategically in the middle of the walkway. While I waited for the seller to process my order, I chatted with the woman at the booth next to his. She sold makeup. And she was intent on converting me to her brand.

“This stuff will last you for two years,” the woman gushed.

I looked at the product in her hands and thought, That amount of makeup would last me a lifetime.

“This is so much better for your skin than other makeup brands.”

The hair product salesman handed me my bag and receipt and I prepared to leave. The woman kept talking.

“Seriously,” she said, “this makeup will make you feel so great. It’s all natural.”

You know what’s really all natural? I thought. My face. Without the makeup. 

“I’m sorry, but I’m not interested.” I tried to walk away.

The woman actually grabbed my arm. “Look,” she said, “I’m giving you the best deal I’ve ever given anyone, like, ever. I’m actually stunned right now that you’re not taking advantage of this deal. What can I do to make you walk away with some of this awesome makeup?”

I shook my head. “I’m sorry,” I said again. “But I don’t wear makeup.”

The woman and the man at the stall next to her both stared at me with their jaws hanging open. “What – really?” the woman asked. “Like, never? I mean, don’t you date?”

“I’m married,” I said, wiggling my hand so she could see my ring.

“Oh,” the woman pursed her darkly lip-sticked lips in sympathy. “You’re a stay-at-home mom, aren’t you? You know, stay-at-home moms deserve to be beautiful, too.”

“I’m a teacher,” I said, and awkwardly scurried away.

As I walked out to my car, I considered why that encounter left me so flustered. Then I realized I wasn’t flustered. I was mad. Everything about the assumptions that desperate saleswoman made were so wrong. She had assumed that I must be single because I didn’t wear makeup. She had assumed that if I did date, I would choose to wear makeup in order to be found attractive. Maybe she even thought I couldn’t possibly date unless I wore makeup. Then, when I told her I was married, she assumed that I was a frumpy stay-at-home mom with self-esteem issues because I didn’t wear makeup. I know a couple gorgeous stay-at-home moms who would have issue with that belief.  I felt insulted not only for me and stay-at-home mothers everywhere but also for women the world over.

Okay, you might be thinking, you’re blowing this a bit out of proportion, don’t you think?

But I’m not. Women are judged for everything they do. Does she work? But what about the kids? Does she stay-at-home? Poor miserable wretch. She must be stuck in the past. No kids? How dare she waste her life away without the gift of children? Oh, so she does have children? Does she know how to raise them correctly? What do you mean she didn’t breastfeed? Everyone knows ‘breast is best!’ Have you seen the way she dresses? What a whore. Have you seen the way she dresses? What a prude. She’s too meek. She needs to assert herself. She’s too assertive. What a b*tch. Are those designer clothes? She must have married into wealth. Are those clothes from Walmart? That poor woman needs a makeover.

See what I mean? Everything about women is controversial these days.

Yet no one seems to talk about another war women are fighting: the makeup war.

Most American girls begin wearing makeup at about 15 years old, on average. They will then wear makeup whenever they are out in public basically until they die. This feeds a billion dollar industry, which claims to exist to empower women, but really teaches them to hate their natural selves. Am I the only one bothered by this?

I tried to wear makeup regularly in college. I’m actually pretty decent at applying it. It made me feel beautiful and powerful. And everyone commented on how great I looked. So I wore it every day for a couple weeks. Then one day I didn’t wear makeup. Here were the reactions: “Oh my gosh! Are you okay?” “What’s wrong?” “Are you feeling alright?” “Did you just go through a break-up?” “Are you sick?”

I was so surprised and disheartened by these reactions. Sure, I loved hearing how great I looked when I wore makeup. But I hated how everyone thought I looked sick or tired or depressed without it. I had never been told this sort of stuff before I tried my makeup experiment. Makeup was fun, but it wasn’t real. Unfortunately, people got so used to my makeup-ed face that my natural, healthy, REAL face was a shock. I felt like I had betrayed myself. I vowed to never let that happen again. I didn’t know it at the time, but I was picking the unpopular losing team. I would spend the rest of my life defending my natural face.

I’ve heard comments about the way I dress, my weight, and the way I do my hair (or don’t) so many times that I’ve basically developed an immunity to those judgy comments. Everyone has their own tastes. Whatever. But I draw the line at being told my FACE isn’t good enough to be seen in public without layers of cosmetics.

Now let me set the record straight: My beef isn’t with makeup. Makeup can be fun and useful. I will wear it sometimes for photoshoots or my wedding or just because I’m bored. A little concealer goes a long way when you have a nasty breakout. And as a drama/theatre teacher, there are endless ways in which makeup can help a theatrical production. The makeup itself isn’t the problem. The problem is society’s backward idea that a woman MUST wear makeup in order to be considered beautiful or taken seriously in a professional environment. My problem is that people who don’t even know me feel like I need to be corrected or “saved.” I don’t think I’m the one who’s wrong.

To all of the teachers, desperate saleswomen, wrong-but-well-meaning roommates, cousins, and coworkers who have told me to put some makeup on, hear this: My answer is NO. You do not get to tell me what is “acceptable” or beautiful.

You know what I think is beautiful? MY FACE. With or without makeup.

People have accused me of being too “self-conscious” to wear makeup. Really? I am the self-conscious one? I know some women who can’t step out the door without wearing makeup. I know some women who won’t even let their husbands see their natural face. Isn’t it the trend now to post a single picture of your un-makeup-ed face on social media and call yourself brave? Why is it considered brave to show your own natural face? It’s your face! We have created a society in which a woman’s face, sans makeup, is considered “ugly” or “plain,” something that belongs at home and hidden from the world. That is messed up! I refuse to be part of that rhetoric.

I actually like the way that I look. I don’t need makeup to help me feel better about myself. And I certainly don’t need makeup to get people to take me seriously. Believe it or not, I actually have a flourishing and fulfilling career. I can count on one hand the number of times I have worn makeup to work. Does that impact my work at all? No. Most of the time, I don’t even think about my face. (Until someone makes a comment like, “You should wear makeup.”)

For many of my students, I am the only functioning and confident adult woman they EVER SEE who does not wear makeup. Isn’t that bizarre to think about? We live in such a makeup-obsessed culture that many of these students don’t even know what a woman’s natural face looks like! Some of my students start wearing makeup as young as TWELVE YEARS OLD. Does no one else see the problem we are creating? These girls are being taught to be ashamed of their own faces. And that shame will follow them through the rest of their life. That shame will turn them into that woman at the mall who thought I was subhuman because I am not afraid of my own face.

Back in college, I had to attend all sorts of workshops to prepare for student teaching. (And don’t get me started on student teaching. I could write a whole book on how messed up student teaching is. But I digress.) I remember a seminar I was required to take in which we were guided step-by-step through the expectations of a student teacher. We were supposed to act with dignity, take concerns to our mentor teacher, speak professionally, etc. Then we got to the dress and grooming expectations. I clearly remember what the presenter said:

“Student teachers are expected to dress professionally. Hair should be groomed and well-maintained. Women should wear makeup.”

I scoffed aloud at this. Unfortunately, the presenter heard me and turned his attention to me. With everyone’s eyes on me, I felt the need to expound on my indignance. So I asked, “Are we actually required to wear makeup?”

The presenter looked surprised. Like no one had ever questioned this particular policy before. “Those of you who will be student teaching in high school are strongly recommended to wear makeup. You are not much older than your students. You must do everything you can to convince them that you are an adult worth respecting.”

I didn’t wear makeup when I was student teaching. None of my high school students ever questioned my authority. Isn’t that surprising? My personality and skill as a teacher actually mattered more than whether or not I wore makeup?! Gasp!  And yet, I continue to be told by men and women alike that I need to wear makeup to be taken seriously.

And you know what? I’m sick of it. I’m tired of feeling like I have to come up with excuses for showing my bare face in public. I feel beautiful. I don’t need to be fixed or saved. I am respected at work. I am taken seriously. I live a wonderful, fulfilling life without makeup. I am not the problem here.

But maybe you are.

“Crows” by Grace Harney

Overall Rating: 

Cover Rating: Ineffective. Though I loved the illustration of the crow perched on the three-eyed skull, the cover as a whole strikes me as aggressively unsatisfactory. The orange-ish red of the parchment/leather background is too saturated, giving it an almost cartoonish feel. The placement of the title, author’s name, and tagline are simply ineffective. The tagline is basically illegible, the title looks like an after-thought, and the author’s name is difficult to read. The words “a novel by” are unnecessary. While it may look decent in print, this cover is ineffective for the ebook market.

I was excited when the author reached out to me with a YA Paranormal novel. I figured this book would be right up my alley. Then I saw the cover and flinched. But the synopsis was interesting enough that I decided to put aside the bad first impression and follow the wisdom of not judging a book by its cover. I agreed to give it a try.

Unfortunately, the inside was only mildly better than the cover.

I always have the best intentions when I start a book. I always want to love it. But I just could not love this book.

The book begins with the introduction of a highly unlikable main character, 17-year-old Annie Murphy. Annie sees (“Sees” in the novel) premonitions. Annie is rough around the edges and rude to everyone. I mean everyone. Her family, other students, the cops, even people who help her she turns right around and threatens. She is rude and disrespectful and then acts surprised when people are rude to her in return. It was really difficult to like the book when I couldn’t stand the main character.

The book begins with Annie harassing her brother’s girlfriend, Artemis, who is about to do something Annie believes she should not. What she is about to do and why she shouldn’t do it is not explained. Even 65% of the way through the book, it is not explained what exactly Artemis was planning to do or why it was a bad thing. Artemis is introduced as the stereotypical spoiled, queen bee, rich girl, while Annie is the stereotypical loner outcast with a chip on her shoulder. Annie swears like a sailor and has no respect for authority. She is basically dripping with teenage angst and not the least bit charming. If it weren’t for her gift of foresight, she wouldn’t have even been interesting. She tends to cause most of her own problems and is so self-absorbed it made me want to scream.

The author tries to show that Annie is morally better than Artemis with a scene in which Annie defends a girl Artemis is bullying. It falls flat, however, and only really succeeds in showing that Annie is angry and unstable. Annie absolutely hates Artemis, but her motivation for hating her isn’t clear. Sure, Artemis is your stereotypical mean girl, but Annie doesn’t exactly seem to be very nice either. In fact, Annie manages to insult, belittle, betray, and hurt a lot more characters than Artemis.

So Annie tries to stop Artemis and fails. Artemis does the thing she shouldn’t have done (it’s about that vague in the book, too). The next day, Artemis acts strange and then goes missing, and the plot takes off. Annie’s brother might be the suspect. The detective on the case is the same detective that sent Annie’s father to prison for murdering her mother. And Annie discovers a nearby inn run by witches who may have connections not only to Artemis’ disappearance but to the death of Annie’s mother as well.

The book is told in first person perspective, which the author seems to struggle with. The perspective jumps into omniscience occasionally. Annie plucks new character’s names out of thin air without properly learning them (this happens at least three times). As a reader, it left me going “Wait, what? Who is this character? When were they introduced? Did I miss something?” While spying on characters, concealed and further away, she is able to describe exactly what they’re doing and feeling in unrealistically intimate detail. It’s easy to forget at times that Annie is the narrator. Sure, this may be another aspect of her poorly-defined premonition powers, but I highly doubt it. Rather, it seems instead like the author isn’t quite comfortable actually anchoring the story to Annie’s perspective.

Pros: Despite the flaws in the storytelling, the story itself is interesting and exciting. It will keep you guessing until the end and gasping in surprise with each new reveal.

Cons: From the cover to the continuation errors to the grammatical errors to the use of a drawing as the author photo, Crows basically advertises itself as a new author’s first attempt at self-publishing. I don’t think it was professionally edited (if it was, the author needs to replace her editor). In fact, I don’t think the author even read the whole book beginning to end. If she had, she might have noticed issues like Johnny taking a swig from his drink, then watching Beatrice suspiciously before carefully taking a sip of his own drink. Huh? I did not like Annie. I thought she was rude, vulgar, and selfish. I didn’t like her so much that it was hard to finish the book. I didn’t really like any of the characters, which made it very difficult to care what happened to them.

Now I can hear some of my readers going “Wow! This review is harsh! She’s a first-time author. She’s self-published. Give her a break.” But my job as a book reviewer is not to give the author a break. Authors need honest feedback to succeed. Self-published authors need that honest feedback even more. My job as a book reviewer is to provide an honest review even when it hurts. I have every confidence that Grace Harney is a talented writer. I completely believe that she is capable of writing an incredible book. This book was not incredible. But I also guarantee that it won’t be her only book. I have been on the receiving end of some unpleasant reviews before. They hurt. A lot. But they also changed the way that I approached my writing, my editing, my revising, and my business as a whole. Most of the books I review on this blog are self-published. I hold them to a much higher standard than Crows was able to achieve.

My advice to the author would be to network with other self-published authors. Figure out what they are doing and what is working for them. Get feedback from them. You can find groups of self-published authors in basically every form of social media. They can help newer authors learn how to promote their books, how to find reliable and talented editors, and how to design effective book covers.

Favorite Quote: “When you play with evil, it plays with you.”

Crows can be purchased HERE.

L.C. Ireland in a writer and arts educator located in Ogden, UT. She has published two novels and several plays for kids.






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“The Games You Cannot Win” by M.K. Williams

Overall Rating: 

Cover Rating: Effective. Aside from the words “A Collection of Stories” being too difficult to read along the bottom, I found the cover fit the content quite nicely.

I will admit, I wasn’t really excited to read this book. I didn’t much enjoy the last short story collection I was asked to read and review, but I decided I would give this one a chance. So I purchased it for $.99 and gave it a chance. I’m glad I did. While I won’t say I loved this collection, I did find it very enjoyable and thought-provoking.

The Games You Cannot Win by author M.K. Williams is a collection of four short stories involving characters who are at odds with some circumstance beyond their immediate control. The first story follows Karla, the daughter of an aspiring writer who herself manages to make it big as a writer – at the cost of her creative freedom. She finds solace in the one part of her book her editor won’t mess with: the dedication. The second story is about a news reporter finding a scandal in a political election quite similar to one we currently had. The third story follows a Supreme Court Justice who is caught up in a supposed scandal from her past. The last story follows the ex-boyfriend of a now-famous author who is haunted by the belief that he will appear as a villain in her latest book.

As in every collection of short stories, there is always one that is clearly the author’s favorite. In this collection, the author’s baby is definitely Escaping Avila Chase, the fourth and final story in the collection.

The author was impeccably detailed in her delivery of these four stories. She either drew from personal experience for all of these stories or did a remarkably thorough job of her research. Each one read as if written by a seasoned professional in whichever field they worked in, from an author to an FBI agent to a Supreme Court Justice. I found this refreshing and informative. Some of my favorite sections were those in which the characters got lost in their work, describing in minute detail what they did and how they did it.

Each of the stories had something to say about our modern days, some of them touching, some of them disheartening, but each deeply thought-provoking. I found that I could only read one story a day. I would then need a good ten hours or so between each story to ponder and mull over all of the implications. If that is not effective writing, I don’t know what is.

Pros: The author’s attention to detail was admirable. I was pulled into the settings she established and completely believed that the author knew exactly what she was talking about. In the theater world, we call a character’s fidgeting and simple movements their “business.” This author did a great job of showing her character’s business.

Cons: This collection as a whole needed a good final proofreading. I found quite a few typos and misspelled words, including one in the author’s note. I found enough of them to bother me. I also very nearly skipped the first story, believing that it actually was the dedication. This feels really weird for me to say about short stories, of which I usually want more, not less, but a couple of these stories really dragged at points. I actually nodded off in the middle of one because it was taking too long for anything significant to happen.

Favorite Quote: “She was a femme fatale with creative license, and she was sharpening her pen just for me.”

I Am Not A Licked Cupcake

I am going to take a turn from my usual topics about writing and publishing to talk about something really personal.  I want to tell you of a very personal struggle that nearly consumed my life. This is a story about a cupcake, abuse, and years of hurt and turmoil.

When I was about 11 years old, I was molested by a foster brother. He was about four years my senior, but we were very close. My sister and I spent most of our time with him. We played with him, we laughed with him, we confided in him. I trusted him completely. And then suddenly everything changed.

Fast forward to my teen years, sitting at church, listening to my teacher give a lesson on chastity. You know, that really awkward lesson where you try to tell kids what to avoid without actually telling them what to avoid? The teacher showed us a cupcake and asked each of us if we would like a bite. We all leaned forward with interest. Snacks at church? Heck, yes! Then the teacher licked the cupcake and offered it to us again. Who wanted it now? We shrank away from the licked cupcake in disgust.

“This is what happens,” the teacher explained, “when you let a boy touch and kiss you inappropriately before you are married.”

What if he was bigger and stronger? What if I was scared? Confused? What if he was someone I should have been able to trust? What if I didn’t want it? What if my parents were only six feet away, yet I couldn’t bring myself to scream? What if I was only a kid? 

I stared at that licked cupcake with tears in my eyes.

“Don’t worry,” the teacher laughed, completely misunderstanding my reaction. “I brought cupcakes you can actually eat.”

I left the classroom in a daze, burning with shame. I threw my (unlicked) cupcake in the trash. I had never really liked cupcakes, anyway. Now I hated them. In the hallway, I overheard this same teacher talking to some parents.

“This lesson really leaves an impact,” she said. “It’s powerful. One of my students was so moved by this lesson that she told me she served cupcakes at her wedding to celebrate how she made it to her wedding day without toeing the line.”

And that was when, at the age of 14, I had this horrible “realization:” I will never get married. No one will ever want me. I am a licked cupcake. 

I wish I could go back in time and give Young Me a hug. I wish I could hold Young Me and just let her cry all those tears she didn’t know how to release. I wish I could stroke her hair, tell her that she was kind and loving and fun. I would tell her that she had an awesome future ahead of her. I wish I could tell her that so many of her dreams would come true. She would have real, lasting relationships once she allowed herself to heal. I would tell her that she would make great friends. That she would marry a wonderful man who would think the world of her. I would tell her, “You are not a licked cupcake.”

I AM NOT A LICKED CUPCAKE.

I know that now. But when I was young and hurting, I didn’t. I honestly believed that I had been “ruined.” I honestly believed that boys were crazy hormonal beasts who would turn on me because they just couldn’t help it. I honestly believed that smiling at a boy could, like a magic spell, turn him into a monster who would pounce on me. I spent ten years of my life scared and depressed because I thought I was broken. I was a fifth-grader who begged to stay in at recess because the boys would harass me when the teachers weren’t looking. Because I was blonde, because I was tall, because I had big boobs, because I was “shy.” Let me get this straight: I wasn’t shy. I was terrified. There’s a big freaking difference.

I was drowning in the guilt and shame. Never mind the fact that I was a stellar student. That I was a talented artist and singer and writer. That I had healthy hobbies and habits. That I was kind and helpful. That I had a loving family and involved parents who removed me from danger as soon as they knew what had happened. None of that mattered because I was “ruined.”

And all I ever heard was, “Don’t wear short skirts.” “Don’t show your shoulders.” “Show too much skin and the boys will get ideas.” “Don’t flirt.” “Don’t spend time alone with a boy.” “Don’t give them any ideas.”  So I would cover up as much as possible. Then adults (yes, ADULTS) would call me a slob for not caring about my appearance. Oh, trust me. I cared. I cared so much it hurt.

In my youth church program, we had a list of traits that we were trying to exemplify. Things like knowledge, divine nature, and choice and accountability. I loved those values and recited them every day. When I was just about old enough to “graduate” from the youth program, a new value was added. Virtue. It was represented by the color gold, touted as the most important of all the values, and suddenly all of our lessons were all about “virtue.” As in, how not to entice the boys to turn into monsters (because apparently, they couldn’t help it) and how to protect your purity. I felt like I had been kicked out of the club. I was devastated. Now I was reminded every week how I wasn’t good enough, how I didn’t belong. How I was broken.

“PROTECT YOUR PURITY,” they would say. But what if it was too late to “protect my purity?” What then? No one ever talked about that. No one talked about what to do after the line had been crossed. “Repent,” they would say. So I would try. But how do you repent for something that wasn’t your fault? I wasn’t promiscuous. I didn’t go to parties or drink or date or spend time alone with a boy. I didn’t flirt. I hadn’t even had my first kiss. I did not “ask for” what happened to me. I was eleven years old when a teenage boy who was supposed to be like a brother to me attacked me in my family’s camping trailer. I was the victim. So why did I spend the next ten years struggling to find the will to live beneath the crippling weight of guilt? I seriously thought that BEING DEAD would be better than admitting to any future suitor that I was not “pure.”

I realize now that the rhetoric is all wrong. The way we talk to kids about sex and sexual relationships and sexual abuse is completely messed up. The actual abuse was terrifying and confusing enough, but the way adults talked to me about my “purity” was crippling. I saw a psychiatrist who told me – behind my parents’ backs – that I needed to let this go or I would ruin my attacker’s life. He was a foster kid, after all. Didn’t he deserve a home? So shut up and smile. You’re fine. Don’t make a big deal out of it. Boys will be boys. And remember, I was eleven.

That one well-meaning Sunday school teacher didn’t know about my situation. And that shouldn’t matter. She shouldn’t have changed her lesson to coddle the “broken” one in the room. Because maybe I wasn’t the only one. She should have changed her lesson because it was WRONG. Young women are not cupcakes. Being “licked” cannot destroy their worth. I can’t believe that a God of love and repentance and forgiveness would ever want a young woman to feel the way I did. And yet, so so many of them do. We teach them to be ashamed. Isn’t that just sickening? It breaks my heart to know so many women who struggle with these same feelings of inadequacy and hopelessness, often because of circumstances beyond their control. Abstaining from sexual relationships before marriage and living a life of virtue should be a choice made out of respect and faith, not out of fear.

We need to put away the harmful metaphors. Shame should never be the way we teach about sex.

I am NOT a licked cupcake. I am a woman. Despite the years of depression and suicidal thoughts and feelings of shame and worthlessness, that scared young girl grew up. Now I am the adult, watching some of my students (my elementary students) suffer from the same heavy burden that nearly killed me. I will never tell them to be ashamed. I will never teach them that they can be broken or ruined. I want my students to know that they can turn their sadness and anger and shame into compassion, into energy, into power. I want them to know that their dreams are still valid. That they matter. Nothing anyone could do to them could ever destroy their worth. They can never be broken.

I want to end this post with a poem I wrote a while back that captures how I felt throughout those dark years:

Caring Enough

“What cup size are you?” he asks.

I’m cornered at recess

by a curious classmate

who won’t stop staring.

I scowl at him.

“Just asking,” he says

and shrugs

like it’s no big deal

I wrap my arms around my chest

and try to disappear.

I never wanted this.

“Straighten your back,” she says.

She’s an older woman

who wears so much makeup

it’s like a mask.

She says, “Don’t slouch.”

She’s a friend of my mom’s,

so I nod my head to be polite.

But inside I’m boiling with rage

and shame.

I hide in my room

To avoid my mom’s friends

And try to disappear.

I never wanted this.

“Don’t act so ashamed,” they say.

“You’re beautiful. Be proud of it.

But not too proud.

And not too loud.

And for Heaven’s sake, smile.”

But I am ashamed

And confused and frustrated

Why won’t they all just leave me alone?

I hide my hurt deep inside

and try to disappear.

I never wanted this.

“You shouldn’t dress like that,” she says.

“The boys will never ask you out

when you dress like you don’t care.”

She’s the assistant principal

who pulled me out of the lunch line

to lecture me about my clothes.

But she doesn’t know

that this big, ugly hoodie

is my armor.

It’s the only thing

that makes me feel safe.

I fake a smile to hide my disgust

and try to disappear.

I never wanted this.

And how can she possibly say I don’t care

When I

care

so

much?