Natalina Reis's Blog, page 14

Trigger Warnings-Yes or No?

I’ve been told more than once that I should put trigger warnings in some of my books. For example, Lavender Fields has a couple scenes where the main character, an angel, is tortured by Asmodeus, a very dark angel. It never occurred to me to place a trigger warning about torture (which is always horrifying and it should trigger feelings of anger and sorrow no matter what) but one reader got very upset with me.

Unfortunately other than the real obvious ones, like rape on the page or child abuse, what might trigger someone is very hard to predict because we all have had different experiences and react differently to things. To give you a couple examples from my own experience, I cannot read anything that connects violence (or threat thereof) with sexual pleasure. BDSM or some of these new dark romances are out of the question for me because I know I will be upset (to put it mildly). A scene in Outlander that nobody else even seems to remember, where Jamie gets a little aggressive with his wife while having sex, made me stop reading a series that I otherwise loved. I just couldn’t stomach it.

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Another thing I cannot handle is drug abuse in stories, especially if the main characters are young. I had a friend who wrote amazing YA gritty stories (fabulous writer) but a lot of her main characters had issues with drug abuse. I had to tell her I could no longer read her work. Having had two sons who got involved with drugs in their teens made me hyper sensitive to that kind of thing.

You never know what can trigger someone. A newly divorced woman might be triggered by scenes of infidelity if her husband cheated on her. My son gets triggered by heavy metal music because of a bad experience he had as a teen. I have a friend who cannot read or listen to anything that deals with cancer after almost losing her life to it at the age of 27. I can’t stand bar scenes because bars were the stage for a very difficult time in my life. We all have our triggers and while some are more common than others, the point is that it is almost impossible to predict what will upset someone else. Sometimes the most ordinary of things can throw someone’s emotions into a meltdown.

So my question is, should we as authors use trigger warnings (other than the big ones like rape, physical abuse, etc) and how do we know when to use them? I have a tendency to mix elements of different genres into my romances which makes it even more difficult to figure out. A mystery reader won’t expect to see a trigger warning for violence or even rape on a gritty book about sex traffickers’, right? I didn’t think of a trigger warning for Lavender Fields because the blurb clearly specified that he was dealing with the forces of evil.

I recently started adding a warning on my book descriptions on Amazon. My upcoming book Queen of Hearts deals with violence against women so I added something to the description and on my foreword inside the book. I was unsure if I should have added something like that for my fairytale retelling Kiss of the Swan where there are scenes about (not on page, but mentioned) violence against women as well. In my mind, one that started listening to Grimm’s Fairytales even before she could read on her own, fairytales are inherently dark and cruel so I didn’t. But should I have?

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As a GenXer/Baby Boomer I am also a bit more “immune” to certain things. I grew up in a time where personal sensibilities were not much taken into account, where people didn’t tiptoe around tough issues on the off chance it would hurt someone’s feelings. I’m not saying that was the right attitude either. I’m just explaining why people of my generation seem to be more tolerant of certain things–not because we feel they don’t matter, but because we have built a sort of emotional armor against them. That alone makes it harder for me sometimes to identify what could be a trigger in my stories.

I’d love to hear your opinion on this. Should trigger warning be a thing in fictional novels and if so which ones should be identified as necessary?

Heels, Rhymes & Nursery Crimes -Cover Reveal

SERIES COVER REVEALHEELS, RHYMES, AND NURSERY CRIMESSERIES TWOAll new stories, new rhymes, and so much more crime. Are you ready for a new set of ladies who love to bend the law?Welcome to Nursery Crimes, where tales are twisted and happily ever after’s are not always guaranteed… PREORDER LINK: https://books2read.com/u/mlAvYq\Merry had a little LambWho didn’t really know,That everywhere her pretty Lamb went,Merry was sure to go. She peeked in through his windows,and watched him by the pool.She stayed amongst the shadows,just waiting to make her move. But her little Lamb had a secret,and Merry didn’t know,that everywhere that Merry wentHer Little Lamb would also go. Welcome to Nursery Crimes, where tales are twisted and happily ever afters are not always guaranteed. FOLLOW V. KELLY HERE:  https://www.facebook.com/vkellyauthor PREORDER LINK:  https://books2read.com/u/b6M6Kp If she leaves you a rhyme for your treacherous crime, then your future is hexed and you’ll soon be next.Hey, diddle, diddle,Kat and her fiddle,The unlucky disappeared under the moon,The corrupt men laughed,To hear of a woman famous for such sport,Until they lay silent and never undertake another villainous tune.Welcome to Nursery Crimes, where tales are twisted and happily ever afters are not always guaranteed…FOLLOW CRYSTAL ST.CLAIR HERE: https://www.amazon.com/Crystal-St.Clair/e/B00LLSKIZM PREORDER LINK:  https://bookgoodies.com/a/B09WRBP1B1 Row, row, row your boatYour wedding’s your new dreamI’ll take the ship and cut you outRelishing each and every scream.Row, row, row your boatYour life is what I’ll takeYou left me to die, so eye for an eyeMy revenge will make you quake.

Nell Ward always dreamed of finding the one man who would love her, and she thought she found her knight in shining armor when Matthew Black rescued her. She was wrong. He left her heart shattered and her life on the line.

Unwilling to give up, Nell came back stronger than ever and has plans of her own. On a ship filled with his loved ones, Matthew will learn that his actions have consequences.

Welcome to Nursery Crimes, where tales are twisted and happily ever afters are not always guaranteed.

FOLLOW MARIA VICKERS HERE: https://authormariavickers.blogspot.com PREORDER LINK:  https://books2read.com/curlsandchaos There was a pretty girlwho had a little curlright in the middle of her foreheadWhen she was good, she delivered – understood?But when she was bad, she was busted.Welcome to Nursery Crimes, where tales are twisted and happily ever afters are not always guaranteed…

Rizzo Maldonado was an unusually adept hacker. Then again, Technomancy was a relatively unknown power, and unless you were into superhero comics or roleplaying games, you wouldn’t know it existed.

Everything’s going great until Rizzo’s new mystery client has her hacking into the wrong system. The worst kind of people take notice and Rizzo’s about to lose her hard-won freedom, until Blake Nolan steps up and helps her take a different path.

For someone who’s avoided trusting or needing anyone else, Rizzo now has to make a hard choice. Will she open her heart and take a chance on Blake? Or will she risk it all – including her freedom?

FOLLOW T.K. ELDRIDGE HERE: https://tkeldridge.com  PREORDER LINK:  https://bookgoodies.com/a/B09WD5LR73 Are you sleeping, or are you creeping ? Daddy dear, I smell fear You won’t hear me coming The blade I slice you with is numbing Never getting in their bed Because you’re dead Welcome to Nursery Crimes, where tales are twisted and happily ever afters are not always guaranteed… FOLLOW LETHA GENE HERE: www.amazon.com/author/lethagene PREORDER LINK: https://books2read.com/eeny-meeny Eeny, meeny, miny, moe, catch a psycho like a pro,Kill them, and then leave a rose. Who am I? You’ll never know.  Elizabeth Jacobs has the urge to kill, but her mother stresses the importance of acting with a conscience. Guided by her, Elizabeth has become a loaded weapon, aiming for only the most suitable of targets. Trouble is, no matter the target, the police working her case are hot on her heels.  One detective, Isaac Lucas, finds himself caught in the middle of a criminal investigation and his first serious relationship. He never expected the two would be so entwined.  Welcome to Nursery Crimes, where tales are twisted and happily ever afters are not always guaranteed…. FOLLOW LAURA N. ANDREWS HERE: www.facebook.com/lauranandrewsauthor PREORDER LINK: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09VZRNS6V The King of HeartsCalled on the tarts,And beat the Queen full sore;The Queen of HeartsNearly fell apartBut vowed she’d be beaten no more.The Queen of Hearts,She played her cards,While poisoning the wine away;And fed it to every King of HeartsWho enjoyed chasingTheir queens like prey.

Losing the game of Stolen Hearts is how she gets them to play: the cads, the wife-beaters, the white-slavers. Predators turned into easy prey. It’s no accident that she’s known as the Queen of Hearts by most males in town and she won’t rest until they all pay for their crimes.

Welcome to Nursery Crimes, where tales are twisted and happily ever afters are not always guaranteed….

FOLLOW NATALINA REIS HERE:  https://natalinareis.com/ PREORDER LINK: https://books2read.com/u/bMYgEA

One, Two. I’m coming for you…

Growing up the only child to a wealthy single father had its perks. Strong and independent weren’t the worst qualities a woman could have.

When her father decides to marry her off without her consent, Arabella had no intention of being the dutiful daughter and accepting that fate. Marcello Mancini had taught his daughter to take charge of a situation, after all.

She did what had to be done.

Two arranged marriages.

Four dead bodies.

One not so grieving widow.

Welcome to Nursery Crimes, where tales are twisted and happily ever afters are not always guaranteed.

FOLLOW CAROLYN LAROCHE HERE: https://www.facebook.com/CarolynLaRocheAuthor PREORDER LINK: https://amzn.to/3qjdNEL

As Lucy Locket works one of the events she organized, she spots someone wearing a necklace that seems familiar. It’s exactly like the family heirloom that was stolen from her grandparents when she was very young. A locket.

Before she died, her grandmother told her to find it. That it was her destiny. She didn’t understand what Grandma Maeve meant by that until she was standing face-to-face with that necklace. The stories all made perfect sense. There was just one problem. It was hanging around someone else’s neck.
A pickle if ever there was one.
The solution?
Steal it back.

Welcome to Nursery Crimes, where tales are twisted and happily ever afters are not always guaranteed….

FOLLOW KAYT MILLER HERE: https://kaytmiller.com PREORDER LINK: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09WB77189

Aspen Collier lived a life of privilege. Rich parents, private school and then an Ivy League college. A perfect existence, until the night her baby brother was killed. A hate crime that ripped away the rose-colored glasses and exposed the ugly underbelly of her elite community. The horror was compounded when his killers were set free, the case pushed aside and leads left unfollowed. Desperate to avenge her beloved brother and to escape the shroud of grief lying over her family home, she answered an ad on the black web.

Are you tired of being a victim? Do you want to learn the skills to survive in a world gone mad? Do you have the stomach to pull the trigger? To kill? A number was listed, a British extension and area code. When answered, an address was given. As she traversed the intensive physical and psychological training, she repeated Rocky’s favorite nursery rhyme over and over in her head…

This little piggy went to market…

There were five of them back home, five little piggies who were going to pay for their crime. She wasn’t waiting on the cops, she was going to be jury, judge and executioner and laugh about it…all the way home.

Welcome to Nursery Crimes, where the tales are twisted and happily-ever-afters are not always guaranteed.

FOLLOW J.T. CHEYANNE HERE: https://www.facebook.com/jtcheyannestories PREORDER LINK: https://bookgoodies.com/a/B09WDYQMXB Hush, baby hushMomma can’t say wordsAnd Papa’s so high he’s soaring with the birdsIf you stay here your life will be overYour parents will never be soberAnd they don’t want you to learn to singSo, come with me, and I’ll give you everythingHush, baby hush, and cover your earsLet Momma save you from all your fearsHush, baby hush and don’t you cryMomma’s gonna save you from the wicked lullabies.Welcome to Nursery Crimes, where the tales are twisted and happily-ever-afters are not always guaranteed.FOLLOW CHELLE C. CRAZE HERE: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorChelleCCraze PREORDER LINK: https://books2read.com/JumpingOnTheBed Welcome to Nursery Crimes, where tales are twisted and happily ever after’s are not always guaranteed… Five bad boy millionaires were jumping on some beds.Five attempts at murder ended with bumps to their heads.While at the hospital the doctor said,No more bad boys should be jumping on a bed.FOLLOW C.A. KING HERE: http://www.portalprophecies.com/

Needles and pins, needles and pins
When a man hurts her, his trouble begins

“Do you want to be accepted, or do you want to be free of their judgement?”

Ruza draws crowds to the carnival with the promises of fame and riches foretold. As the operator of a fortune-telling automaton, she spends her days choosing the fate of others.

New towns, new faces, but it’s the same old story. When will I get married? Will I get that promotion? Does my grandma have any messages for me?

Within the crowds of entertained customers and familiar questions, Ruza searches for something much rarer – those who truly want to take their fate into their own hands.

“What would you do to guarantee the future you want?”

Isabella is used to getting everything she wants in life. A perpetual teacher’s pet, college is just a necessary but easy step on her path, her family name a golden ticket to the career of her dreams.

Boyfriends with wandering eyes are a normal hurdle on the road to success; as long as you don’t fall in love.

One small step off her life plan leads Isabella further than she thought possible. After all, what is the difference between stealing and murder when your eternal soul is at stake?

The perfect man is easy to find. All you need is needles and pins, thread, a spare body, and a little bit of magic.

Welcome to Nursery Crimes, where tales are twisted and happily ever afters are not always guaranteed.

FOLLOW KRISTY WESTAWAY HERE: www.amazon.com/author/kristywestaway PREORDER LINK: getbook.at/LittleKittyLost I love little Kitty,She always likes to play.But Kitty is lost,And so runs away.Poor little Kitty, she flees to the city.She’s never forgotten her precious kitten,But she’s afraid to return, lest she be bitten.

Katherine Springston appears to have it all, mingling with the rich and famous of Chicago, and thriving in a successful, although illegal, business. But behind closed doors, she’s filled with remorse. Twenty years ago, she fled in the dark of night, leaving everything behind, including a husband and precious little girl. Now it’s time to make amends. Love for her husband died long ago, but love for her daughter still burns bright. Does the little girl who’s now grown up remember her? And if she does, will she allow Katherine to make things right?

Welcome to Nursery Crimes, where tales are twisted and happily ever afters are not always guaranteed…

***While Little Kitty Lost is part of the Heels, Rhymes, & Nursery Crimes multi-author series, it is related to the Healing Hearts Duet, in which a father and daughter find their own happily-ever-afters.FOLLOW CA MICONI HERE:  https://linktr.ee/camiconiauthor 28 amazing authors have written stories based on nursery rhymes, but with a criminal twist to them! Women are the heroines in the stories, but that doesn’t mean they’re on the right side of the law! **All stories in the Heels, Rhymes, and Nursery Crimes series are standalone and not connected. You can read them in any order you would like.  Check out series one on Amazon and in KU today! 

Daring Duplicity – New Release

Edale Lane has a new FF historical steampunk book out: Daring Duplicity. And there’s a giveaway!

Solving mysteries is her business. Finding love is her dream. Will combining the two get her killed?

Victorian Era England. Stetson revels in being unconventional. So when society shies away from her independent nature, the bold woman creates an imaginary boss and opens her own detective agency. And her keen observational skills, convincing disguises, and Holmesian methods quickly bring in a string of tough-to-crack cases.

Struggling to squeeze a personal life in around a series of hazardous investigations, Stetson worries she’ll never find a woman of like-passions. But with her heart set on true love despite the risk, she carries on hunting for the perfect relationship.

Will her clever escapades lead to death… or delight?

Daring Duplicity: The Wellington Mysteries, Vol. 1, Adventures of a Lesbian Victorian Detective is a collection of five sequential novellas, each encompassing its own exciting mystery while furthering the story of Stetson’s life in London. If you enjoy crime dramas, Victorian era fiction, or a sweet lesbian romance, then you’ll love award-winning author Edale Lane’s Daring Duplicity. Order yours today!

Amazon | Goodreads

Giveaway

Edale is giving away a $20 Amazon gift card with this tour

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Excerpt

Jewel gripped her own gloved hands and scanned the room anxiously. “It is a matter of the utmost discretion,” she began in a tone much more demanding than she had intended. “It is of a personal nature, you see,” she continued more gently and forced a polite smile. “May I speak with Mr. Wellington in private?”

Miss Goody responded with a pleasant smile of her own. “I’m afraid that will not be possible. Mr. X is extremely successful in foiling criminals because of his anonymity. In fact, no one has ever seen him but me. All correspondence between the investigator and the clients goes through his assistant—me. So how this works is, you tell me the specifics, I talk to him, and he gives me a list of questions to ask, and so forth. I assure you, anything you say to me will be kept in the strictest of confidence, just as if you were conversing with the detective himself.”

“I see.” The assistant paused for a moment before continuing and her attention fell on Miss Goody for the first time, being specifically drawn to ample breasts squeezed into her buttoned waist coat. It required conscious effort for Jewel to raise her gaze, but doing so she became captivated by two warm, caring cognac eyes. “Very well, then. I am being blackmailed, and the nature of the information being held over me makes it impossible to go to Scotland Yard, or a constable, or even my father, for the money. I receive an allowance, not enough to meet the foul villain’s demands, but sufficient to cover your agency’s fees and expenses I’m sure.”

“I see,” she replied with a soft expression of compassion. “Was the man you were seen with married, or simply from the wrong side of the tracks?”

“Well,” Jewel stammered, cleared her throat, and fixed her gaze on a painting on the wall. “Not exactly. And he has a photograph.”

Miss Goody sighed and leaned forward, her palms on the desk top. “Now, Lady Jewel Ashton, if we are to find this blackmailer and save your reputation, you cannot hold anything back. How can Mr. Wellington help you if you won’t tell us the whole story?”

“It is not my reputation I am concerned with,” she admitted, a hint of real fear trembling in her voice. “My whole family could be ruined, utterly ruined, and destroy my father’s political career. We would be forced to retreat to our estate in the countryside. I cannot allow shame to come upon my family for one moment’s indiscretion.”

Miss Goody met her eyes. “I assure you if you provide Mr. X all the information he needs, he can find this scoundrel, take back the photo and the plates, and give him every reason to keep his deceitful mouth closed on the matter.”

Jewel held her gaze for a long moment, and believing her sincerity, made a decision—the only one she could really make. She opened her reticule and withdrew a tan envelope. “Someone left this in my carriage while I was shopping. My driver said he didn’t see or hear a thing.” She placed the parcel on the desk within Miss Goody’s reach and held her breath.

#Stetson opened the envelope and spilled its contents out onto the desk. Inside was a note and a photograph, not of Jewel kissing a married man, but another young woman! For an instant, time stood still. A flush rose in Jewel’s cheeks while Stetson’s mouth absently fell agape as she stared dumbfounded at the image. Stetson’s mind raced almost as fast as her heart. Could it be that this beautiful gem who walked in this morning has the same inclination as myself? Could there actually be other women who love women, that I am not a singular oddity? She not only had these thoughts, but acted on them! She had never met another like-minded woman—not to mention one whose looks could stop a locomotive in its tracks like Jewel Ashton.

She was roused from her musings when she heard a desperate voice from across the desk. “So now you see the urgency and delicacy of the matter.”

She quickly shoved the note and the photograph back into the envelope and replied with sincerity. “Do not be distressed, Lady Jewel Ashton. We will take care of this with great expediency. I shall show these to the detective and he will know just what to do. Wait here. I’ll return anon.”

Stetson stepped into the room behind her, leaned against the closed door, and let out a deep sigh. With eyes shut and hugging herself, she took a moment to process the warm thrill that rose from her loins. Reveling in the euphoric rush, she wanted to believe the impossible–that maybe her dreams could come true. Mayhap there was a chance, ever so slight, that she, too, could act on her passions. Her breathing became ragged as she imagined kissing Jewel, and being kissed in return. Her heart pounded in excitement. Until reality stuck its ugly head into her dream reminding her there was a case to solve. Stetson moaned softly in aggravation and opened her eyes to glance around her inner sanctum.

Within the confines of Mr. Wellington’s lair were all the implements one would need to be a successful private investigator. On the wall to the left was an array of weapons, including both an umbrella and walking cane hiding swords in their handles, an umbrella with a singleshot rifle barrel and a trigger in the handle, several knives, guns, and gadgets. A glass-doored cabinet contained other curiosities such as a wristwatch that concealed a tiny explosive, a unique copper and brass miniature camera with flash attachment, a mirror attached to a long folding pole for seeing around corners or over walls, telescopic opera glasses, and a voice recording device. There was a table holding an array of wigs in vast colors and styles for both men and women, false beards and moustaches, along with an exhaustive selection of hats. Hanging from hooks on another wall were various costumes for the well-to-do business people, and the poor, male and female alike. There was a large vanity with a mirror and cases of cosmetics and face powder as one might see backstage of a theatre. Yes, the windowless room had all the trappings to outfit a man of mystery save one—there was no Xavier Wellington… only Stetson.

Author Bio

Edale Lane is an award-winning author (Rainbow Awards, Imaginarium Awards, Lesfic Bard Awards) who is realizing her dream of being a full-time writer. She is the alter-ego of author Melodie Romeo, (Tribute in Blood, Terror in Time, and others) who founded Past and Prologue Press. Both identities are qualified to write historical fiction by virtue of an MA in History and 24 years spent as a teacher, along with skill and dedication regarding research. A native of Vicksburg, MS, Edale (or Melodie) is also a musician who loves animals, gardening, and nature. After driving an 18-wheeler cross-country for eight years, she now lives with her partner in beautiful Chilliwack, B.C. Canada.

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Heaven Official’s Blessing vol 1

Heaven Official’s Blessing: Tian Guan Ci Fu (Novel) Vol. 1 by Mò Xiāng Tóng Xiù
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Absolutely loved this book. It was recommended by a fellow writer and I’m so glad I took the leap. I had just finished reading Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation and even though I loved the story (come on, who doesn’t love The Untamed?) I was not impressed with the writing or maybe it was the translation. This one is much better in terms of translation quality. Mò Xiāng Tóng Xiù’s style is not always very polished but the story, the characters and the subtle humor makes up for the flaws. I already have volume 2 lined up and can’t wait to see what happens to this extraordinary odd couple.

View all my reviews

Knight in Retrograde

Lee Hunt’s epic fantasy book Knight in Retrograde is now available in audiobook format, in addition to eBook and paperback. And there’s a giveaway!BLURB

Would you trade uncertainty for stagnation, chance for god, invention for inertia, thought for dogma?

Four years have passed since the events of Dynamicist and war is on the horizon.

Robert, Koria, Eloise and Gregory went to the New School, hoping to change the world. They thought that mathematically based dynamics, the enlightened age’s answer to wizardry, would give them the power to make everything better. Their hopes were naïve.

Protestors are condemning the creation of a new vaccine. The city is seeing a series of hangings; is it murder or sacrament? The cloaked man is back stalking students. The long-absent demons Skoll and Hati reappear and begin slaughtering whoever they meet. But the real question is, will Nimrheal return? If he does, who will die first?

Uncertainty is inspiring fear, and inventions are not making the world better, only more complicated. The terrified civilians don’t want dynamics and reason. They want the word of Elysium and the return of the Methueyn Knights.

Koria fears the world faces an awful conundrum: that if the Knights return, Nimrheal will stay.

Will Robert, Koria, Eloise and Gregory choose to transform into angelic knights or, at the cost of such heavenly communion, instead banish Nimrheal? What price will be paid? If a new Methueyn Knight rises, will the age of invention disappear forever?

About the Series

The Dynamicist Trilogy examines the difficulties of change in a fantasy setting. This challenge manifests itself through a rigorous magic system where thermodynamic cost is accounted for, and an inventor killing god. Most realistically, the challenge of creating a better world is illustrated by the many mistakes and miss-steps of the well-meaning and intelligent characters. The power and importance of memory, love and hope are ever present.

Universal Buy Link | AmazonGiveaway

Lee is giving away a $30 Amazon gift card with this tour

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Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47224/?

Excerpt

As their eyes met, Heylor found himself abruptly pulled away from the handshake and whirled around by the strong hands of his mother on his shoulder. “What in Leylah’s long night happened to your face, Heylor?”

This again.

“It looks like he got trampled across the gizzard by a team of oxen,” said Herevor in a deadpan voice, rubbing his long narrow jaw with his right hand. His fingernails were black with dirt.

“He wouldn’t tell me what happened!” Shelley yelled from the kitchen table.

I don’t want to talk about it.

“Who’s there?” came a new voice from the couch. It was grandma’s broken, warbly twitter. Heylor peered into the den again and saw her slouched low on the half-collapsed couch. Beside her, perched primly with a straight back, sat Constable Lynwen, hands on lap. Heylor had not seen the young woman cross the room and sit down. He had forgotten about her completely, and now there she was beside his grandma.

“It’s me, Grandma. Heylor.”

The old lady squinted at him. She seemed little more than a bundle of thin, wrinkled skin, looking as if she had lost another two inches of height in the months since Heylor last saw her. Looking at her, spine hunched like a question mark and eyes rheumy and clouded with cataracts, felt like a stab in the gut.

“I thought you were out there across the line.”

“I was.” Heylor looked at Lynwen again, sitting beside his grandma. What is she thinking? “I’m back. Where are Heyden, Scrandeyn, and Helloise?”

Jesteyn crossed her arms. “They’re out farm-handing, Heylor. We told you that at the beginning of the season.”

“Sorry, I forgot about the farm work,” Heylor mumbled. “It’s probably a good thing they’re not here.”

“Why’s that?” Jesteyn asked, eyes narrowing. “They’d love to see you. You know that.”

“Why would they?” Heylor spread his arms wide in a surge of frustration. “They must be glad to be away from here. I can’t believe all the junk you have here.”

Herevor flinched for a microsecond before breaking into a mad grin that exposed every one of his missing teeth. “One knight’s junk is another knight’s armor.”

“Oh, for knights’ sake,” Heylor exclaimed, “why is there a wheelbarrow full of cats in the fireplace? What knight is going to make plate out of that? The cat would be better armor! And isn’t that Shelley’s sextant on the bookshelf? She lives in the orchid now. I do remember that. And isn’t that my old cooper’s kit spread out on the shelf yonder? And why do we have three busted telescopes? I’m sure I threw away the bronze one after second year. What isall this stuff doing here?”

“I needed a place to store my spare things,” Shelley replied evenly. “My room in the Orchid isn’t big enough.”

“Those rooms are huge!”

“Nope.” Shelley was not flustered in the least.

Heylor clenched both fists so hard his face hurt where Skoll had gripped it. “What about the cooper’s kit?”

“Heygard thought we should hold on to it for him until harvest is done,” his father answered nonchalantly

“Oh, of course,” Heylor whispered. “What about the telescope I know I threw away?”

“I think I can fix that,” Grandma piped up.

You? You can barely stand up!

“Well, that accounts for one telescope. How about the other two?”

“That’s me,” jumped in Herevor. “I thought I would see if I could make a small version of an Eindarch Eye.”

Heylor blinked. “Did you succeed?”

“Nope.”

Heylor shook his head. Of course you didn’t. “How about the old wheelbarrow?”

Herevor rubbed his jaw again. “Scrandeyn didn’t want it anymore. I figured it could come in handy. Someday.”

“Of course! Of course it could. Someday,” Heylor almost shouted, angrier than ever. Everything about his family reminded him of himself, of his own failings, of killing his friends. In that moment, he despised them like he despised himself. “It’s come in handy for the cat at least. Whose cat is that anyway? No, don’t answer, I know it came from a cousin or was thrown away by someone somewhere. Everything is useful, everything comes back. From everyone. Nothing is trash. It’s all worth something. My hand-me-down clothes probably got handed back and used for another cat’s nest.” He whirled around. “You know what this family is? Sick, crazy hoarders. It’s an illness. You’re so bad that, even when one of you finally throws something out, it gets thrown back by some other member of the family. When they throw something out, you take it. It’s a circle, a circle of junk, a knights-damned hoarding circle! We should study it in the New School. It’s a mathematical singularity for trash. Nothing ever leaves that doesn’t re-enter. There’s no escape from the entropic pull of the Style family’s hoarding circle vortex! No junk is abandoned, no mistakes are left behind, nothing is forgotten or moved on from.” Heylor held his hands up and whirled slowly around. “This might be a big new house, but we’re still just the same old peasants.”

Smack!

Heylor’s jaw rung for the second time that day, this time from the big hand of his own mother.

“My face already hurts, Mom! Don’t hit me.”

“I love you, boy, but I know that hurts less than what you’re carrying.” Jesteyn had hit him, but she did not look angry. Her liquid eyes betrayed a different emotion. “What mistakes aren’t you leaving behind? What pain are youhoarding? What happened to your face? It’s your family here. The only way yer gonna get rid of whatever it is, is to share it.”

Heylor started laughing. “That’s so clever, Mom.” He kept laughing and didn’t stop until his nose started running because he was actually crying. Through blurry eyes, he looked over at Lynwen, sitting silently, watching. “I’m sure you want to leave now, Constable.”

“Nope.” Lynwen smiled.

Author Bio

Ever try to do things you were really not well suited to? Lee Hunt understands. He was born with only one working lung, but has gone on to be an Ironman triathlete, a sport rock climber, and a professional geophysicist. The poor lung function has been an excellent excuse for his unimpressive triathlon performance—he is among the worst of those able to complete the Ironman under his own power—and is of some service in eliciting a modicum of sympathy for his average at-best skills as a climber. Actually no one on a rock wall really cares about excuses. It’s a climb-or-fall kind of thing.

His marginal ability to breathe is of no use whatsoever in explaining his career as a geophysicist. He was good at that. Lee published close to fifty journal papers, articles or expanded abstracts, has been awarded numerous best paper awards, and was even sent on a national speaking tour to Canadian universities by the Canadian Society of Exploration Geophysicists. He was born on a farm but grew up near the giant oil sand mines of Fort McMurray and is interested in discussing the environment and the amorality of science. He is also useful at parties in explaining the physics around why, or why not, fracture stimulation might be a risk to manmade structures and the fuzzy cuddly things of nature. Lee’s career helped him appreciate the difficulty in predicting outcomes, the dangers of arrogance—such as thinking you can predict even the smallest thing—and the exigent need to try anyway. He was comfortable and happy being a geophysicist, so after twenty-eight years, he quit to go do the things he was less well suited to.

If you want to hang out with Lee, look for him hiking, cycling, floundering in a lake, clinging desperately to a wall, or at his desk trying to write an entertaining story.

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Dance of the Phoenix – Review

I believe I said once that I had learned a lot from Chinese period/fantasy dramas. Even though they are TV shows they have taught me how to write better. Dance of the Phoenix was not any different and I definitely learned a thing or two about what NOT to do when writing a fantasy.

I actually enjoyed the series and watched it faithfully every night, but as much as it was entertaining, it was riddled with plot holes, unexplained events, and to be honest the worst ending ever–and that includes The Fall of the Phoenix (no relation) which ended with death and destruction.

There were some major problems with the story, some of which I was okay with ignoring, others that made me cringe. Two of the cringeworthy problems had to do with fat-shaming and color-shaming. One of the main side characters, Zhao Ge (played by Estelle Chen), is introduced in the show as a cute young woman who happens to be on the chubby side (who is played by Zhou Yi Qiao). She’s likable and truly adorable and for a moment I thought this show would actually deviate from most of the C-dramas and actually have a character that was not super skinny. I even thought I saw signs that she would be the love interest of one of the other side characters, a very handsome man, Xuan Yi (played by Gao Ji Cai ). However as the plot develops ,it becomes painfully clear that I was wrong. Her weight is portraited as the result of a curse that makes her eat a lot. She eventually gets “cured” and becomes a beautiful and very thin woman. Xuan Yi does fall in love with her but not until after she regains her thin frame. Bummer!

The color-shaming happens when the main character, lovely Feng Wu (Yang Chao Yue) disguises herself as an “ugly” girl by getting a tan, freckles, and wavy hair. What????? I realize that fair skin was valued as the model of beauty in ancient China just like it was in Jane Austen’s time, but this is a show for modern sensibilities and it could have been handled much better.

That aside there are many plot holes and unexplained things. The main character claims to be “not from here” throughout the whole story but the only faint clue we have as to where she came from is when she offers a “birthday cake” made with pastries and a candle to her love interest, hinting at possible time travel. But that’s where it ends. Nothing is ever explained and at the end she claims this was her second life. What was her first life?

Other weird things happen. For example, her love interest, the Crown Prince (Xu Kai Cheng) gets stabbed in the heart and dies–or at least that’s what we all thought. Except he’s not dead. For unexplained reasons the Queen, who wanted him dead above all else because he was the only one legally capable of opposing her, decides to keep him alive. Why? It made zero sense.

Also above mentioned Zhao Ge and her love interest die on the last episode only to return at the very end with a brief explanation on how that was accomplished. Same with Feng Wu’s Master. One moment he’s dead, the next is back alive. The King/Emperor also has a mystery ending. The Queen has him drugged or something (not quite clear) so she can manipulate him but then he vanishes, never to be mentioned again.

Which takes me to the terrible ending. Everything is pointing at a unbelievable but satisfying happy end as the Crown Prince travels across the city to fetch his bride who is waiting for him in full wedding garb as it is traditional. But at the last minute someone walks in the room (her Master back from the dead) who takes her back to wherever it was she came from. No protests from her, no explanation why this is necessary considering she now has a family and friends and a position in this society. What were the writers thinking of?

However, if you are not the kind to get really upset about these kind of things and are willing to suspend disbelief this show is entertaining and well worth a watch. Just don’t expect to quite understand the reasons behind most of what the cast of characters does.

Taking a Breather

When I was first published about six years ago I knew close to nothing about the world of authoring. My then publisher was less than helpful with a “sink or swim” type of attitude toward rookie writers (which always baffled me because you would think they would want their authors to succeed, right?).

My first heartbreaking and discouraging experience with marketing my books was shortly after the book was published. The book was released in January and when I found out there was going to be an all-female Valentine’s Day event at a local wine shop, my inexperienced self thought this would be the perfect occasion to try to sell my book: what could be better than Valentine’s Day + women + wine?

I spent about three hours standing awkwardly in the middle of the store by my pretty display, surrounded by groups of women who couldn’t care less about me or my books. I was so out of my element and comfort zone I’m sure it showed. I tried to “pull” the audience in, I made a little speech, I went from table to table offering chocolate and free bookmarks which were turned down because “I’m on a diet” and “I don’t read physical books.”

It crushed me. It is probably no wonder that my worst bout with depression started shortly after this. But, pain aside, I learned something: I was not made for this kind of event. Similar experiences in the future just reinforced this notion and I eventually quit trying to set up events where I was the focus. I am too shy and too much of an introvert (with zero gab) to be successful at this no matter how much I tried or forced myself to do it.

First lesson learned.

Many other lessons followed, but more recently I learned another one that may very well be the one that saves me from going insane.

Social media is a mixed blessing at the best of times. I’m so grateful it exists so I can be in touch with my family and friends overseas, but I am also often frustrated and irritated by weird algorithms that favor only those who don’t need much exposure while keeping those of us who are vastly unknown hidden.

For years now I have been driving myself batty following the advice of the experts in the field of marketing: post every day, interact with the audience, post in as many social media sites as possible, don’t slack. I just about burned myself out. My Sundays were, until very recently, spent scheduling social media posts, taking pictures for said-posts, racking my brain to create and/or find interesting graphics that would incite interaction from the audience. This on top of lesson planning for the week, cooking lunches for work, and other things I don’t have time to do during the week.

My efforts paid off in my Facebook author’s page for a very short time. I was actually getting good interaction, but it was very short-lived. For the last year or so my author’s page is pretty much dead even though I post everyday and spend hours preparing materials for it. I’m not even sure anyone is seeing the posts much less interacting with them.

My reader’s group has also been on the decline. Even though my following has grown, interaction has not. I have a handful of amazing readers who faithfully interact with my posts, but I’m not certain the rest even realize the posts exist. Not their fault. I’m pretty sure it all has to do with that infamous mysterious algorithm that only helps those who don’t need much help anyway.

I’m so proud of my Instagram account. I followed the advice of not posting only about my books. “Post other people’s books,” they said, “make it look pretty”. Well, I did and even though my following has grown steadily, the interaction has not. Just like with Facebook I have a handful of followers who interact, most don’t.

A few weeks ago I was at the end of my rope. Between being sick with COVID, craziness at work, family problems, and a crushingly disappointing new release I’d had it. I wanted out. I did not want to spend hours of my remaining years of life working on something to show no results for it. I even considered quitting writing. For someone who’s been writing since she could put words together, this is very telling of how frustrated and tired I was.

Then someone in one of the many webinars I have been attending said something like, “You don’t have to post things everyday as long as you’re consistent” and “Post only promos on your author’s page and focus on interaction in your reader’s group”.

Eureka.

Or at least, eureka-ish. It didn’t solve all my problems but it did give me the “permission” to lighten my burden. I made a decision then to post very little in my author’s page. In fact, my wonderful PA does most of my promos on that page and that’s how it’s going to stay. I wasn’t getting any traction there even when I had an established “schedule” for my “highly-engaging” posts.

Then I decided to cut down the quantity of posts on Instagram as well, from six days/weekly to only three or four. That right there opened up a nice window in my Sunday workload.

So now I want to instead focus on my reader’s group and on interacting with authors I have met online and come to love. I want to network, something I suck at. I had a great new release (thank you all who made it happen) that made me feel better about myself as a writer and gave me the strength to carry on the business of writing.

I am not young anymore. As I enter the silver years of my life and my body starts to remind me of it every second of the day, I want to enjoy life and writing instead of stressing over posts and follows. I want to focus on the people who enjoy my stories or those who potentially could come to love them. Yes, I want to be a successful writer but not at the cost of my sanity. For now I choose to take it easy. Juggling two full time jobs is not a picnic and I have been doing it for far too long.

Right or wrong, it’s time to take a breather.

Glint – Book Review

Glint by Raven Kennedy
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

This is a series I came very close to DNFing. The first few chapters of the first book in the series plus the personality of the main character really rubbed me the wrong way. Thankfully someone I trust told me I would change my mind as I read so I stuck to it and I’m glad I did. So far this has been a very entertaining (if infuriating at times) series.
I loved book 2 for a couple of reasons. The main female character still drives me crazy with how blind she is to Midas’s real intentions and feelings toward her but the character’s growth in this book was very well done if a bit too slow in my opinion. The new male character is also fabulous so far as are other secondary characters (I’m still pissed off about Sel). I still think that some scenes are unnecessary for the development of the plot and the characters (for example; Queen Malina’s sex scene with her “saddle” adds zero to the story and goes on for far too long and Auren often takes off in overdrawn soliloquies that don’t add much to the scene or overall story arc).
I agree with some reviewers that her relationship with the other saddles is perplexing at best. As a writer myself I imagine Kennedy does this to show how kind and empathic Auren really is (and strong under her layer of apparent weakness) but it unfortunately also adds up to her image as weak in terms of caring for those who have bullied and abused her in the past.
The surprises were a nice addition to the plot even though I’m sure most readers already suspected at least part of what’s revealed late in book 2.
Despite all the flaws, I am hooked and looking forward to the next book. I am giving this book four stars because of how entertaining it is despite the darkness of its theme.

View all my reviews

Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation – Review

Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation: Mo Dao Zu Shi (Novel) Vol. 1 by 墨香铜臭
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I was really excited when I found out the English translation of this book had finally landed so I bought it immediately. As a fan of The Untamed I was already acquainted with the story and in love with the characters. I will be honest: I don’t know whether I would keep reading if that was not the case.

The writing takes a bit of getting used to (or maybe it’s the translation. As a linguist I know how hard it is to translate literature) for someone who like me is a rookie in this kind of fiction. It felt childish at times, like how one of my students would write it, with a lot of rather cartoonish language (the transcription of laughter sounds drove me crazy, lol) and quite a LOT of telling instead of showing.

That said I couldn’t put it down and I will definitely read volume 2. Also, kudos to the scriptwriters and actors in the TV series for an excellent interpretation of the characters’ personality and for keeping mostly faithful to the story.

The illustrations throughout the book are also wonderful and I’m excited to finally (the last 1/4 or so of the first volume) begin seeing a romance developing between the two main characters (which is after all what made me fall in love with the story). Looking forward to Book 2.

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Blood Bound–New Release

Courtney Maguire has a new MM paranormal historical romance out, Youkai Bloodlines book 3: Blood Bound. And there’s a giveaway!

Two hundred years can strain even the seemingly eternal love of the youkai.

When Hideyoshi’s coldness drives them apart, Hiro finds comfort in his friendship with Takanori, a vociferous human man he met at a ramen shop and can’t seem to keep away from.. Everything Hiro had to fight for from Hideyoshi, Takanori gives freely, making it all too easy to turn away from his responsibilities–and Hideyoshi–in favor of something sweeter.

But while Hiro is off playing human, danger is brewing among the Youkai. Hideyoshi, still reeling from his breakup with Hiro, struggles to uphold the promise they made to the Hunter leader, Kyo, but the Youkai’s loyalty has been challenged by Hiro’s abrupt disappearance. With Hunters literally banging at the door, Hide must find a way to bring Hiro home or risk igniting the war they’ve spent the last two hundred years trying to prevent.

Warning: graphic violence, terminal illness, depictions of grief and depression/mental illness, suicidal actions

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Giveaway

Courtney is giving away a $10 Amazon Gift Card with this tour:

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Excerpt

Chapter 1: Trainwreck

Spring 2004

You can live a hundred lifetimes and the world will still surprise you, hit you like a high-speed train and drag you along the rails before dumping you off a thousand miles from where you started. Sometimes, the ride isn’t as violent as all that. Sometimes, it feels like a vacation, an escape, like falling in love. But, the end of the line is always the same—a broken, bloody mess far from home.

Sitting on a hard cobblestone path in my two-day-old funeral suit, I stared at a pillar of granite with his name on it, a fifth of Jack in my gut and my soul shattered into a million pieces. Aikawa Takanori—the name of the train that hit me.

A broad shadow fell over me and I closed my eyes against it. I knew who it was, knew the sound of his steps, the way the air trembled in his presence. Sakurai Hideyoshi. He sat down beside me on the stone path without a word, so close our shoulders touched. Over two hundred years had passed since the day we met, and his nearness still made my skin prickle. His fingers brushed against mine as he slipped the nearly empty bottle of whiskey out of my hands and raised it to his own lips.

“You knew it would end this way,” he said, his voice low and cold. Not a judgement or an accusation, just a statement of fact.

“If you’re here to lecture me, you can save it,” I said, snatching the bottle back out of his hand.

There was something shocking about seeing him again, sitting there like an inkblot on my vision. The same solid frame, the same dark features, sharp as cut granite and just as immovable. How much time had I spent pounding myself against that hardness, like the ocean against a rocky cliff, trying to break it away? Now I observed him as if from a distance. Something bitter pushed up against my grief, but there was no room for it, so it settled back into my gut. He had been my home before Takanori, but now he was almost unrecognizable. He hadn’t changed, of course. I was the one who was different.

“How long since you’ve drank something besides whiskey?”

“Not since—” I broke off, my eyes darting to the gravestone. My hands trembled as I took a long pull off the whiskey bottle. It could have been hours or years, every second since that day stretched into an eternity.

“Come with me,” he said, pulling himself gracefully to his feet. I didn’t move. “Hiro.”

“I can’t,” I choked. I struggled to breathe around the ball of grief wedged in my throat. He was here for a reason. He wanted something and I couldn’t give it to him. “I’m not…ready…”

“He’s dead. It doesn’t matter if you’re ready,” he barked. The words were sharp, the edge of a blade iced over, and they cut deep.

He grabbed the collar of my jacket and yanked me to my feet. Without even waiting for me to catch my balance, he turned and stomped off down the path. It had been this way since the day we met, Hideyoshi plodding ahead without looking back, so confident I would follow. I found it comforting somehow, like nothing had ever broken between us. We would always be Hideyoshi and Hiro. The shape of his back would never change. He would never get sick and die.

I ran my hand over Taka’s name on the granite and felt my heart tugged in two different directions. Another train had come, this one promising to take me back to somewhere familiar, but part of me was afraid. What if I got there and found it wasn’t my home at all anymore, but just another strange place that would leave me even more broken?

But, Hideyoshi was right. Taka was dead, the home I could have had here reduced to ashes. I had nowhere else to go.

My chest constricted and I cursed under my breath as I ran to catch up to Hideyoshi, falling in step just a few paces behind. The sun was setting as we exited the cemetery and darkness fell quickly over the narrow streets of Tokyo. Neon signs lit up one by one with an electric pop as we passed, the early evening crowds already taking their places in the izakayas that lined the street and disappearing into basement bars. Hideyoshi led me all the way to Ikebukuro and the busy streets surrounding Sunshine City. Wires hung like spider webs overhead, feeding power to the garish artificial light. Loud music and cigarette smoke filled the streets and the smell of sweaty bodies started a scratching under my skin that had me gritting my teeth.

He stopped in the most crowded part of the busy street and looked over his shoulder at me for the first time. My gut clenched. I knew what he wanted. I scowled and shook my head, but he simply pinned me with those needle-sharp eyes that didn’t take no for an answer until I relented.

His silent command: Sing.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. The scratching under my skin intensified and the sounds of the city died away as something else rose to the surface, something dark and dangerous. When my eyes opened again, the electric lights paled behind the glare of human life, every movement leaving a streaky after image in blue and white. My pulse sped and my mouth watered. I pulled in a deep breath and my voice rose from the depths with an old song, something traditional that took me back to a different Tokyo, and despite its terrible purpose, it warmed me. My heart swam in it, cleansed its wounds in it.

Author Bio

Courtney Maguire is a University of Texas graduate from Corpus Christi, Texas. Drawn to Austin by a voracious appetite for music, she spent most of her young adult life in dark, divey venues nursing a love for the sublimely weird. A self-proclaimed fangirl with a press pass, she combined her love of music and writing as the primary contributor for Japanese music and culture blog, Project: Lixx, interviewing Japanese rock and roll icons and providing live event coverage for appearances across the country.

Author Website: https://www.courtneymaguirewrites.com/

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