C. Vonzale Lewis's Blog, page 6
July 19, 2019
LINEAGE HAS ARRIVED!!!!
Lineage
C. Vonzale Lewis
Publication date: July 16th 2019
Genres: Adult, Fantasy
Smart-mouthed Nicole Fontane has a way of getting herself into trouble. She’s been fired from every job she’s had but still refuses to work in her father’s apothecary shop because of his practice of Earth Magick. On Tulare Island where Nicole grew up, Magick has always been a way of life—one she’s determined to avoid at all costs.
With less than two hundred dollars in the bank and rent due, Nicole is forced to take a job at Tribec Insurance as a last resort. Little does she realize, the moment she sets foot inside the building, she becomes a pawn. A sinister force has set its sights on her and will stop at nothing to use her in a sadistic game.
Tribec’s proprietors, the Stewart family, are curiously preoccupied with the Naqada, the mysterious pre-dynastic Egyptian society. Nicole finds it creepy, but on the bright side, the job reconnects her with her estranged friend, Marta. Yet the eerie atmosphere, disappearing Magick wards, and the smell of blood inside Tribec bring Nicole to a startling conclusion—the Stewarts are practicing Blood Magick, the deadliest of the Five Principles. By the time Nicole uncovers the truth, Marta and her four children have gone missing, and all signs implicate the Stewarts and an archaic blood ritual to an Old One, a Naqada god imprisoned on Tulare Island.
Battling the evil of Blood Magick will demand Nicole to confront a hidden past and unlock the Magick buried within. But can she set aside her deep-rooted fears to work with a team of vigilante Mages? Or will the clock run out on Marta and her children—and on Nicole?
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo
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CHAPTER ONE:
Looking for bright, responsible, career-oriented, self-motivated individuals who have excellent people skills and are able to take high volumes of calls while maintaining a positive attitude. Ability to work with others is a must.
I glanced down at the advertisement in my hand. I had none of those qualifications according to my last employer—and pretty much all my other previous ones as well. I was, however, a “foul-mouthed, bad-tempered, under-performing”—still didn’t understand that one—“sarcastic, waste of space.” Although, to be fair, only one of the previous employers actually called me a waste of space, and that was because I had stopped sleeping with him.
This unfortunate lack of options was the reason I stood in the parking lot of Tribec Insurance, smoking the last of my apple-flavored cigars—a habit I learned from my father—wearing a cream-colored dress suit and a pair of matching pumps. I couldn’t afford either of them, and I really hated pumps. But I needed the job, so I dressed the part of the career-oriented, self-motivated candidate the ad was searching for.
Most of the jobs in the area required a college degree, or at least several years of experience. I had no college degree, and the longest I’d ever been employed at one job was six months. Thankfully, Tribec Insurance was always hiring and had no such requirements—a rarity in the uptight community of Alice where Tribec was located.
Through a ring of cigar smoke, I took in the phallic structure that was Tribec Insurance. My eyes landed on the small, stone, pyramid-like shape at the top of the building. It reminded me of an Egyptian Obelisk—a symbol to the god Ra. The Egyptian word for it, “Tejen,” meant “protection” or “defense.”
Why would the occupants of Tribec Insurance erect a symbol of protection or defense on top of the building?
A slight breeze blew over my bare arms, carrying the salty scent of the ocean and stirring the beads of sweat that had formed on them. My new blouse had molded to my back, and my feet had started to sweat. I was generally used to Tulare Island’s oppressive heat, but the anxious jitters in my stomach had caused my skin to flush.
I tried to dispel the nervousness in my stomach. Despite the obvious, I didn’t want to show that I was desperate. My best friend Kara spent most of last night trying to prep me for the interview. She advised me to not ask annoying questions, make sarcastic comments, or let my disgruntled attitude show.
Essentially, she advised me to not be myself. There was a message in there somewhere, but I was choosing to ignore it.
Out of our original group in high school, Kara was the only one who was still in my life. The only one who actually gave a damn about me. Marta and I hadn’t spoken in years, and as for Steve… Well, it was a long time ago.
I glanced at my watch. Damn. I guess I had procrastinated long enough. I put out my cigar, grabbed my blazer from the front seat of my car, shoved the advertisement back in my overly large purse, and headed for the building. As I walked, I attempted to wrap my head around the fact that I was essentially asking Tribec Insurance to let me spend my days chained to a desk, listening to complaints from strangers.
Maybe I should look into prostitution. At least I’d enjoy the job.
Kara also told me to smile a lot, so I pasted one on, pulled open the glass door, and stepped inside. Only to stop dead in my tracks at the entrance.
The walls—painted a burnt gold color that reminded me of the sunset—were lined with Egyptian art. Four glass displays, filled with half-head replicas of deities and artifacts, sat in each corner of the room. Green foliage hung from black ceramic pots near the entrance and the elevator. Something was off about the elevator. It wasn’t stainless-steel. No, more like marble. Black marble with gold striations that, at first glance, appeared to be moving. Odd.
And everything, including the guard station—which sat sunken into the foundation in the middle of the floor—was set up in a spherical configuration. Directly behind the guard station was a set of mahogany double doors, with gold Egyptian hieroglyphs carved around the frame. They were also etched around the guard station.
Most people on Tulare Island either practiced one of the four principles of magick or knew someone who did. There was, however, a small group of people who, despite the evidence, still refused to believe in magick. They usually carried picket signs outside of herbal and occult shops, telling people they were going to burn in hell, not realizing they were actually practicing faith magick every time they went to church.
Judging from the set-up of the room, and even the obelisk on the top of the building outside, I could hazard a guess—more like an assumption—that the occupants of Tribec Insurance practiced magick.
Despite my assumption, I couldn’t figure out which of the four principles—earth, elemental, mind, or faith—the people at Tribec used. There was, however, a fifth principle—blood—that to my knowledge, no one practiced anymore. And sadly, I didn’t know enough about it to recognize any symbols associated with its practice. Yet, symbols from the other four were etched all over the walls. Odd. Especially since people only had the ability to practice one. Not all four.
If it was a job requirement for me to use magick, I was running the hell out of here. I would live in a cardboard box before I got involved with magick. And if I didn’t get a job soon, that was exactly where I’d be living. Especially since I refused to move back in with my parents. I had to grow the hell up sometime.
I moved farther into the lobby; the scent of desert sand wafted around me. It had that baked-on smell that emanated off the ground when the sun was at its peak. It was unusual, but the décor could explain the smell. Especially if they added sand to some of the displays for authenticity. The odor that was definitely out of place was the one directly underneath it.
Blood. It was faint. I could almost chalk it up to imagination. Almost. If it wasn’t so overpowering.
I moved forward cautiously, my heels clicking on the white-tiled floor, as I tried to pinpoint where the scent was coming from. But the farther away from the door I got, the less I smelled it. I turned and started back toward where I’d first detected the smell. A chair creaked, stopping me in my tracks. The space between my shoulder blades started to itch. I turned.
The guard behind the desk was watching me.
I stood there, debating whether or not I should just leave. Yes, I was desperate, but the smell of blood? Was I imagining it? I pulled in a deep breath, trying to find the scent again. Nothing.
Get it together, Nicole.
After a short pause, I shook myself mentally, and continued toward the guard station with the guard’s black eyes boring into me. Sizing me up.
“Can I help you, miss?” He rose to his feet and crossed his arms across his chest.
I placed him in his late twenties. He had a solid frame, close-cropped black hair, deep set black eyes, and no facial hair. The dark brown suit he wore looked as if it had been poured onto him. Had to be ex-military.
The gold tag on his shirt read “Oliver Strong.” It suited him.
“Yes, my name is Nicole Fontane, and I’m here for an interview with…” I set my purse on the counter, ignoring his pointed glare, and pulled out my tattered notebook. “…a Francine Delaporte at eleven.”
“Have a seat. I will call someone down to escort you.” He inclined his head in the direction of the red leather couch on the right.
“Okay, thanks,” I said as I mentally extended my middle finger. Everything about him rubbed me the wrong damn way.
I sat and placed my purse beside me on the couch—the damn thing weighed a ton—and picked up one of the brochures for Tribec Insurance. While I sat there leafing through it, another security guard walked up and blocked my view of the sun. Well, he would have if there had been one inside the building. This burly bastard had tree trunks for arms and a head that resembled a boulder. Did they chisel him from a mountain?
“Ms. Fontane?” the guard grumbled. It sounded as if his voice came from a gut full of rocks.
I stood, which put me at eye level to his massive chest and the name tag pinned to his shirt that read “Duncan Glass.”
Maybe when they hired their guards, they assigned them names as well.
“Yes.” I tried to push myself up a few inches more. I was already wearing three-inch heels, bringing my total height to five nine, yet this massive behemoth still towered over me.
“Follow me.” He spun around abruptly and led the way to the elevator.
I was tempted to salute him, or give him the finger—the damn bossy bastard.
Calm down, Nicole. You need this job.
Duncan pulled a card from his pocket and inserted it into a slot located on the right side. I guess that answered my question about the oddity of the elevator. Besides the strange composition, they didn’t have a call button. They sure did have a high level of security for an insurance company. Maybe they denied more claims than they approved. Greedy bastards.
When the doors slid open, Duncan extended his arm out. “Ms. Fontane.”
I stepped inside.
Once the doors were closed, he inserted his card into another slot, and a display lit up with a list of floors.
The number thirteen was among them.
I had once read somewhere that all older buildings either omitted the thirteenth floor or renamed it. It all stemmed from a superstition that the thirteenth floor was unlucky. I wasn’t superstitious, but I did find it interesting they chose to include it.
“They have a thirteenth floor,” I said.
“It comes after twelve.”
While I was no stranger to snide comments I really didn’t like others using them on me. Bastard.
A few moments later, the elevator doors opened and, thankfully, deposited us on the seventeenth floor. I followed Duncan to a set of offices in the center of the floor. He stopped at the first door in a row of three that faced the elevators. The silver name plate affixed to it read: Francine Delaporte. After he rapped on it three times, he planted his feet a few inches apart and placed his hands behind his back.
Maybe Duncan thought he was still in the military.
I took in the room while I waited. Cameras inside small black orbs dotted the ceiling. A hazy gray tint covered the windows, allowing minimal light to filter into the room. Industrial gray walls sported a few framed “inspirational” quotes that referred to “teamwork” and “having a positive attitude.” They even had the stupid “Hang in There” poster with a cat hanging off a wire.
Even the partitions that divided the employees’ desks were gray. The only break up in the ashen color were the fake wood desks.
It reminded me of a mental asylum.
The majority of the people in the office were women, with a few men thrown in here and there. Did they believe women were more suited to talking on the phone? Either way, everyone in the room was pasty, their eyes sunken in, wearing expressions that suggested they had given up on life. I wouldn’t have been surprised if they were all former tenants of the asylum, dressed up in over-sized clothes and forced into the role of “employee.”
The fact that no one looked up when Duncan and I got off the elevator supported my theory. They just sat there in their little black chairs, talking into their headsets, all repeating what sounded like the same practiced spiel in monotonous tones, a few minutes behind one another. Like a rolling set of waves crashing against the most boring shore imaginable.
I turned back to Duncan. He still stood at ease in front of Francine Delaporte’s door. What the hell was taking this woman so long? My feet were killing me. Like an idiot, instead of breaking the shoes in after Kara left last night, I had curled up on the couch with a bottle of Samuel Adams, contemplating my limited options. My little pity party of one ended at midnight when I realized my only option was one I wasn’t willing to entertain.
As I switched my purse from my right shoulder to my left, I caught sight of a faint circular line drawn around the cubicles. I stared at the ground, unsure if I was seeing things, or if there really was a line drawn on the floor. I straightened and moved to the left, trying to follow it. As I stood there transfixed, someone brushed their frigid hand across my exposed neck.
Coldness raced down my spine, and the scent of sand filled my nostrils.
I whipped around.
Duncan was gone.
In his place stood a woman wearing a red paint suit. Given that she was at least five feet away from me with her hands down at her sides… Who the hell had touched my neck?
Francine extended her hand and smiled. “Hello. Ms. Fontane?”
I stepped forward, my legs suddenly weak, and took her hand. “Hi.” I cleared my throat. “Yes, I’m Nicole Fontane.”
“I’m Francine Delaporte. Let’s get started.” She let go of my hand and walked into her office.
I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to warm the sudden chill that had settled there. I glanced around the room. The employees remained at their desks, staring rapt at their computer screens.
A cool breeze circled the room, pulling my gaze toward the ceiling. An air vent sat directly above me.
Before I entered Francine’s office, I glanced down at the floor. The markings were gone. Maybe I had imagined them. And maybe the air-conditioning explained the feeling of someone brushing their fingers across my neck.
Yes—for sanity’s sake, I was going to go with that.
Just my overactive imagination.
GIVEAWAY!
a Rafflecopter giveaway
Cover Reveal–To Wake The Dead by Sarah Lampkin
Okay, so, yeah, the title….WHY ON EARTH WOULD YOU WANT TO WAKE THE DEAD? Looks like someone hasn’t watched many zombie movies!! Leave them in their grave, PLEASE…
Sorry, this is a cover reveal and I got a little carried away.
Before I lay this awesome cover on you, maybe I will tell you a little about this book. Yes, that is what I will do.
Book Blurb
Book Title: To Wake the Dead book two in the Dead Dreamer series.
Brenna Whit teeters the line between the living and the dead. Now that she’s back for her sophomore year at Nephesburg College, she’s determined to focus on the waking world. But when her own soul is trying to kill her and a new Dead Dreamer is fighting for power, Brenna is dragged back into the world of the dead.
The Gatekeepers are doing everything they can to restore the power they once held over the town of Nephesburg. With a mysterious set of twins arriving in town to help them prepare, Brenna must decide what’s important: continuing to hide her secret or reveal herself and fight for what she believes is right. The decision could end up leading to a permanent death for Brenna so she must choose wisely.
Classes have begun…
The battlefield is set…
Let the fight for the Fade begin.
YES! I was thinking the exact same thing. THIS BOOK SOUNDS AWESOME!!
I tell you, my publisher (Parliament House Press) has some great titles under its belt.
Make sure you add it to your Goodreads: https://bit.ly/2JPmpwO
Who’s the author you ask?
A native of Richmond, Virginia, Sarah Lampkin is a 2015 graduate from Lynchburg College [University of Lynchburg] with a master’s degree in English. Since graduation, Sarah now lives in Northern Virginia working in the IT field as a Technical Writer while continuing her research for her graduate school thesis. When she isn’t working, Sarah continues her Celtic mythology research and Gaelic studies, while working on the Dead Dreamer series.
Although she currently lives in Northern Virginia, Sarah frequently travels back home to Richmond to visit family, friends, and her godchildren. During the winter months, she is in Richmond more frequently to spend time in the woods hunting and contemplating the meaning of life. She doesn’t always succeed in both endeavors, but the music of nature is worth it for peace of mind. In her free time, she likes to play RPG video games, and preparing for hunting season.
Her work mainly focuses on Celtic themes, mixed with elements from the spiritual world. And her characters always have a flair of attitude and sarcasm because writing damsels in distress is something she just can’t do.
She currently writes for The Parliament House and is seeking a literary agent.
Make sure you follow her on all her social media accounts. She belongs to the sarcasm club just like me!!!!
Instagram: (slampkin.author)
Facebook: (author.sarahlampkin)
Twitter: (@Lampkin_S)
Website: (www.dead-dreamer.com)
OKAY FINE, YOU WANT TO SEE THE COVER!
AWESOME SAUCE!!!
Until next time folks,
PEACE, LOVE, AND CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIES!
July 15, 2019
Nicole Fontane from Lineage
You’ve probably been wondering why you’ve never met Nicole? Trust me, it wasn’t an oversight. She needed her own space and her own post. For those who’ve read the book already, you know that Nicole is…for lack of a better word…extra. When I first starting writing about her, I saw a little bit of myself. The sarcasm, the feeling of being lost (especially at that age) and the restlessness. She is a combination of many people. Her journey is one I am so eager to tell. She will go through some things before she reaches that happily ever after.
But one of the things I really wondered about was how everyone else saw her. So, I have compiled snippets of reviews below to help you get a better understanding of what others see. I know you will form your own opinion of her. Rather it be good or bad. But at least you can get a glimpse of her before you start reading…LINEAGE.
REVIEWS:
Check out the reviews on Goodreads or simply add it to your TBR list, here.
Jena wrote:
Nicole Fontane doesn’t disappoint between her sass, her thoughts, her nightly escapades (hotness, dear lord fanning myself now), dark mystery, and magick.
Candace Robinson wrote:
Nicole! I loved her! She did what she wanted and had no regrets! Why should a guy character only be this way? It was super refreshing to see a female character in this sort of light. You learn about her background, and her flaws, and along the way, you really start to feel for her.
Donna wrote:
The growth we see in especially Nicole’s character is so effective, so moving!! …I’d say Nicole has found the one!…Nicole must wear some nice perfume, because she was getting all the hot men.
Gerardo Delgadillo wrote:
The story kicks-off with Nicole Fontane’s applying for a job she doesn’t want, then we jump into her very adventurous love life. In summary, a woman with a strong personality who really knows what she wants. But, she may do things against her will in order to survive or achieve her goals.
Dave Wickenden wrote:
Meet Nicole Fontane. Abrasive, surly, and really desperate to find a job before her money runs out. When she attends an interview for an insurance company, her instincts tell her to run, but rent is due soon. The more time she spends in the new job, the worse the vibes become. Her first clue is the smell of blood within the building. Digging around to explain her feelings, she becomes involved with ancient magic that is controlled by a family of dark mages.
July 12, 2019
LINEAGE–Sneak Peek The Conclusion!
It’s FRIDAY! And it’s also time for another snippet of, LINEAGE, or, maybe I will just give you the rest of the chapter. Yes, maybe I will…
The conclusion:
Get it together, Nicole.
After a short pause, I shook myself mentally, and continued toward the guard station with the guard’s black eyes boring into me. Sizing me up.
“Can I help you, miss?” He rose to his feet and crossed his arms across his chest.
I placed him in his late twenties. He had a solid frame, close-cropped black hair, deep set black eyes, and no facial hair. The dark brown suit he wore looked as if it had been poured onto him. Had to be ex-military.
The gold tag on his shirt read “Oliver Strong.” It suited him.
“Yes, my name is Nicole Fontane, and I’m here for an interview with…” I set my purse on the counter, ignoring his pointed glare, and pulled out my tattered notebook. “…a Francine Delaporte at eleven.”
“Have a seat. I will call someone down to escort you.” He inclined his head in the direction of the red leather couch on the right.
“Okay, thanks,” I said as I mentally extended my middle finger. Everything about him rubbed me the wrong damn way.
I sat and placed my purse beside me on the couch—the damn thing weighed a ton—and picked up one of the brochures for Tribec Insurance. While I sat there leafing through it, another security guard walked up and blocked my view of the sun. Well, he would have if there had been one inside the building. This burly bastard had tree trunks for arms and a head that resembled a boulder. Did they chisel him from a mountain?
“Ms. Fontane?” the guard grumbled. It sounded as if his voice came from a gut full of rocks.
I stood, which put me at eye level to his massive chest and the name tag pinned to his shirt that read “Duncan Glass.”
Maybe when they hired their guards, they assigned them names as well.
“Yes.” I tried to push myself up a few inches more. I was already wearing three-inch heels, bringing my total height to five nine, yet this massive behemoth still towered over me.
“Follow me.” He spun around abruptly and led the way to the elevator.
I was tempted to salute him, or give him the finger—the damn bossy bastard.
Calm down, Nicole. You need this job.
Duncan pulled a card from his pocket and inserted it into a slot located on the right side. I guess that answered my question about the oddity of the elevator. Besides the strange composition, they didn’t have a call button. They sure did have a high level of security for an insurance company. Maybe they denied more claims than they approved. Greedy bastards.
When the doors slid open, Duncan extended his arm out. “Ms. Fontane.”
I stepped inside.
Once the doors were closed, he inserted his card into another slot, and a display lit up with a list of floors.
The number thirteen was among them.
I had once read somewhere that all older buildings either omitted the thirteenth floor or renamed it. It all stemmed from a superstition that the thirteenth floor was unlucky. I wasn’t superstitious, but I did find it interesting they chose to include it.
“They have a thirteenth floor,” I said.
“It comes after twelve.”
While I was no stranger to snide comments I really didn’t like others using them on me. Bastard.
A few moments later, the elevator doors opened and, thankfully, deposited us on the seventeenth floor. I followed Duncan to a set of offices in the center of the floor. He stopped at the first door in a row of three that faced the elevators. The silver name plate affixed to it read: Francine Delaporte. After he rapped on it three times, he planted his feet a few inches apart and placed his hands behind his back.
Maybe Duncan thought he was still in the military.
I took in the room while I waited. Cameras inside small black orbs dotted the ceiling. A hazy gray tint covered the windows, allowing minimal light to filter into the room. Industrial gray walls sported a few framed “inspirational” quotes that referred to “teamwork” and “having a positive attitude.” They even had the stupid “Hang in There” poster with a cat hanging off a wire.
Even the partitions that divided the employees’ desks were gray. The only break up in the ashen color were the fake wood desks.
It reminded me of a mental asylum.
The majority of the people in the office were women, with a few men thrown in here and there. Did they believe women were more suited to talking on the phone? Either way, everyone in the room was pasty, their eyes sunken in, wearing expressions that suggested they had given up on life. I wouldn’t have been surprised if they were all former tenants of the asylum, dressed up in over-sized clothes and forced into the role of “employee.”
The fact that no one looked up when Duncan and I got off the elevator supported my theory. They just sat there in their little black chairs, talking into their headsets, all repeating what sounded like the same practiced spiel in monotonous tones, a few minutes behind one another. Like a rolling set of waves crashing against the most boring shore imaginable.
I turned back to Duncan. He still stood at ease in front of Francine Delaporte’s door. What the hell was taking this woman so long? My feet were killing me. Like an idiot, instead of breaking the shoes in after Kara left last night, I had curled up on the couch with a bottle of Samuel Adams, contemplating my limited options. My little pity party of one ended at midnight when I realized my only option was one I wasn’t willing to entertain.
As I switched my purse from my right shoulder to my left, I caught sight of a faint circular line drawn around the cubicles. I stared at the ground, unsure if I was seeing things, or if there really was a line drawn on the floor. I straightened and moved to the left, trying to follow it. As I stood there transfixed, someone brushed their frigid hand across my exposed neck.
Coldness raced down my spine, and the scent of sand filled my nostrils.
I whipped around.
Duncan was gone.
In his place stood a woman wearing a red paint suit. Given that she was at least five feet away from me with her hands down at her sides… Who the hell had touched my neck?
Francine extended her hand and smiled. “Hello. Ms. Fontane?”
I stepped forward, my legs suddenly weak, and took her hand. “Hi.” I cleared my throat. “Yes, I’m Nicole Fontane.”
“I’m Francine Delaporte. Let’s get started.” She let go of my hand and walked into her office.
I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to warm the sudden chill that had settled there. I glanced around the room. The employees remained at their desks, staring rapt at their computer screens.
A cool breeze circled the room, pulling my gaze toward the ceiling. An air vent sat directly above me.
Before I entered Francine’s office, I glanced down at the floor. The markings were gone. Maybe I had imagined them. And maybe the air-conditioning explained the feeling of someone brushing their fingers across my neck.
Yes—for sanity’s sake, I was going to go with that.
Just my overactive imagination.
My conversation with author Gerardo Delgadillo!!!
I got the unique opportunity to interview this story master! He really outdid himself with his latest release, FRACTALISTIC. It released Tuesday July, 9th and let me tell you the reviews are all POSITIVE! This is one amazing book and I would expect nothing less from this great author.
So, let’s dive right in shall we!!!
Carla: Who are your favorite authors?
Gerardo: John Green (best of the best YA contemporary author), John Scalzi (Sci-fi master and Jedi), and Junot Diaz (his prose is insane, and he intertwines a LOT of Spanish that makes me laugh like an idiot).
Carla: Do you try to be more original or do you try to deliver readers what they want?
Gerardo: I try both because there are tropes you can’t avoid! In YA you must have romance and teen angst and whatnot.
Carla: Tell us about your writing process and the way you brainstorm story ideas.
Gerardo: What writing process? Kidding. A novel starts with a spark, an idea that comes out of nowhere. Then, I twist that tiny idea to make it high concept—something eyebrow raising. Like: What if someone could talk to the dead people using computers? Once the idea is in in place, I “pantser” my way through. Correction: I used to do that, writing non-stop until I penned a first draft. Lately, though, I moved to the dark side and write a sparse outline. So, there’s that. Writing the first draft is the tip of the iceberg! I work on a second draft, where I delete chapters, write new ones, cry, and get frustrated. Then, and only then, I send this draft to my intrepid beta-readers, who tell me how much it sucks. Next step is to work on another draft and send it to beta-readers again. This step gets repeated until I have a draft that isn’t in “sucky” state.
Carla: When you develop characters do you already know who they are before you begin writing or do you let them develop as you go?
Gerardo: I have NO idea who my characters are until I’ve written the first draft! On the second draft, I focus on character traits, consistency, etc. Fun, but, so much work. It is true what people say: The characters talk to you and tell you who they are!
Carla: Where is your favorite place to write?
Gerardo: Coffee shops, coffee shops, and coffee shops. Sometimes, I try at home, but my fridge has super-powers and calls to me, “Food. Fooooooood. I have food, Master.” It’s like it has a life of its own. And don’t get me started on the TV!
Carla: What’s the most difficult thing about writing characters from the opposite sex?
Gerardo: Not being a person of the opposite sex? As writers we have to research and come up with ideas, etc. So writing a character from the opposite sex requires tons of research, and lots of hand slapping from your critique partners of the opposite sex.
Carla: What was your hardest scene to write (without giving spoilers of course)?
Gerardo: In general, poignant scenes based on personal experiences. In Fractalistic, the hardest scene was [spoiler alert] … and that’s why it was SO hard!
Carla: Do you want each book to stand on its own, or are you trying to build a body of work with connections between each book?
Gerardo: I write mostly standalone novels—doesn’t mean I’ll write a series in the future. Who knows…
Carla: How many hours a day do you write?
Gerardo: Two hours—keeps the writing muscle strong and happy.
Carla: How many unpublished and half-finished books do you have?
Gerardo: Too many! Actually, I lost count, but I’d say, um, seven going on eleven? Three of them are horrendous pieces I’ll never revisit!
If you still want to know more about this awesome man, make sure you follow him on ALL his social media!
nstagram: (@delgadillo_gerardo), Twitter: (Gero_Delgadillo),
Website: (https://gerardowrites.wordpress.com/)
Oh, I see, I forgot to tell you ALL ABOUT this awesome book!
After moving to Mexico with her parents, Winter Gutan had been hoping the local alternative medicine doctor would cure her mother’s illness. When her mother does not survive his controversial treatments, Winter’s life spirals in despair. Her father, a software engineer, insists his computer program, Fractalistic, will enable them to communicate with her mother’s spirit. But as his sanity begins to slip, Winter confides in her friend Rafa, a computer wizard, who tells her he’s found information about using fractal technology to treat false memories—nothing paranormal about it, leaving Winter confused and without hope. Will she lose her mother forever?
Suspecting her dad is hiding a deep secret, Winter runs Fractalistic behind his back, unveiling a sea of computer-generated imagery swirling on the screen. Her mother appears to her…begging for help! But is this all just Winter’s imagination?
Fractalistic may enable Winter to communicate with her deceased mother, but it might also unleash more mysterious memories buried within Winter’s mind. To figure it all out, Winter must hack into her father’s system to uncover a horrifying truth…or remain in the dark forever.
SOUNDS GOOD, HUH?
Well, you can get your copy here:
This wonderful book is brought to you by: THE PARLIAMENT HOUSE PRESS!!
I’M NOT DONE YET!!!
You read that right! A giveaway!
To win:
You must be following @theparliamentpress , @delgadillo_gerardo , and @cvonzalelewis
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July 11, 2019
LINEAGE–Sneak Peek Part Two
Welcome back! This is day two of our countdown to the release of, LINEAGE, and I have another snippet of chapter one for you! So, without further ado,
Part Two: Chapter One
Kara also told me to smile a lot, so I pasted one on, pulled open the glass door, and stepped inside. Only to stop dead in my tracks at the entrance.
The walls—painted a burnt gold color that reminded me of the sunset—were lined with Egyptian art. Four glass displays, filled with half-head replicas of deities and artifacts, sat in each corner of the room. Green foliage hung from black ceramic pots near the entrance and the elevator. Something was off about the elevator. It wasn’t stainless-steel. No, more like marble. Black marble with gold striations that, at first glance, appeared to be moving. Odd.
And everything, including the guard station—which sat sunken into the foundation in the middle of the floor—was set up in a spherical configuration. Directly behind the guard station was a set of mahogany double doors, with gold Egyptian hieroglyphs carved around the frame. They were also etched around the guard station.
Most people on Tulare Island either practiced one of the four principles of magick or knew someone who did. There was, however, a small group of people who, despite the evidence, still refused to believe in magick. They usually carried picket signs outside of herbal and occult shops, telling people they were going to burn in hell, not realizing they were actually practicing faith magick every time they went to church.
Judging from the set-up of the room, and even the obelisk on the top of the building outside, I could hazard a guess—more like an assumption—that the occupants of Tribec Insurance practiced magick.
Despite my assumption, I couldn’t figure out which of the four principles—earth, elemental, mind, or faith—the people at Tribec used. There was, however, a fifth principle—blood—that to my knowledge, no one practiced anymore. And sadly, I didn’t know enough about it to recognize any symbols associated with its practice. Yet, symbols from the other four were etched all over the walls. Odd. Especially since people only had the ability to practice one. Not all four.
If it was a job requirement for me to use magick, I was running the hell out of here. I would live in a cardboard box before I got involved with magick. And if I didn’t get a job soon, that was exactly where I’d be living. Especially since I refused to move back in with my parents. I had to grow the hell up sometime.
I moved farther into the lobby; the scent of desert sand wafted around me. It had that baked-on smell that emanated off the ground when the sun was at its peak. It was unusual, but the décor could explain the smell. Especially if they added sand to some of the displays for authenticity. The odor that was definitely out of place was the one directly underneath it.
Blood. It was faint. I could almost chalk it up to imagination. Almost. If it wasn’t so overpowering.
I moved forward cautiously, my heels clicking on the white-tiled floor, as I tried to pinpoint where the scent was coming from. But the farther away from the door I got, the less I smelled it. I turned and started back toward where I’d first detected the smell. A chair creaked, stopping me in my tracks. The space between my shoulder blades started to itch. I turned.
The guard behind the desk was watching me.
I stood there, debating whether or not I should just leave. Yes, I was desperate, but the smell of blood? Was I imagining it? I pulled in a deep breath, trying to find the scent again. Nothing.
July 10, 2019
LINEAGE–Sneak Peek Part One
To say that I’m a ball full of nervous energy would be an understatement. My first book is coming out next week and I just…yes, I’ve been rendered speechless. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve written and rewritten this blog post. So, instead of telling you how I feel EVERYDAY, why don’t I give you a little sneak peek at chapter one? Yeah, I think that’s best.
Ladies and Gentlemen, chapter one of LINEAGE, coming in hot!!!!
Part One:
Chapter One
Looking for bright, responsible, career-oriented, self-motivated individuals who have excellent people skills and are able to take high volumes of calls while maintaining a positive attitude. Ability to work with others is a must.
I glanced down at the advertisement in my hand. I had none of those qualifications according to my last employer—and pretty much all my other previous ones as well. I was, however, a “foul-mouthed, bad-tempered, under-performing”—still didn’t understand that one—“sarcastic, waste of space.” Although, to be fair, only one of the previous employers actually called me a waste of space, and that was because I had stopped sleeping with him.
This unfortunate lack of options was the reason I stood in the parking lot of Tribec Insurance, smoking the last of my apple-flavored cigars—a habit I learned from my father—wearing a cream-colored dress suit and a pair of matching pumps. I couldn’t afford either of them, and I really hated pumps. But I needed the job, so I dressed the part of the career-oriented, self-motivated candidate the ad was searching for.
Most of the jobs in the area required a college degree, or at least several years of experience. I had no college degree, and the longest I’d ever been employed at one job was six months. Thankfully, Tribec Insurance was always hiring and had no such requirements—a rarity in the uptight community of Alice where Tribec was located.
Through a ring of cigar smoke, I took in the phallic structure that was Tribec Insurance. My eyes landed on the small, stone, pyramid-like shape at the top of the building. It reminded me of an Egyptian Obelisk—a symbol to the god Ra. The Egyptian word for it, “Tejen,” meant “protection” or “defense.”
Why would the occupants of Tribec Insurance erect a symbol of protection or defense on top of the building?
A slight breeze blew over my bare arms, carrying the salty scent of the ocean and stirring the beads of sweat that had formed on them. My new blouse had molded to my back, and my feet had started to sweat. I was generally used to Tulare Island’s oppressive heat, but the anxious jitters in my stomach had caused my skin to flush.
I tried to dispel the nervousness in my stomach. Despite the obvious, I didn’t want to show that I was desperate. My best friend Kara spent most of last night trying to prep me for the interview. She advised me to not ask annoying questions, make sarcastic comments, or let my disgruntled attitude show.
Essentially, she advised me to not be myself. There was a message in there somewhere, but I was choosing to ignore it.
Out of our original group in high school, Kara was the only one who was still in my life. The only one who actually gave a damn about me. Marta and I hadn’t spoken in years, and as for Steve… Well, it was a long time ago.
I glanced at my watch. Damn. I guess I had procrastinated long enough. I put out my cigar, grabbed my blazer from the front seat of my car, shoved the advertisement back in my overly large purse, and headed for the building. As I walked, I attempted to wrap my head around the fact that I was essentially asking Tribec Insurance to let me spend my days chained to a desk, listening to complaints from strangers.
Maybe I should look into prostitution. At least I’d enjoy the job.
LINEAGE–Sneak Peak Part One
To say that I’m a ball full of nervous energy would be an understatement. My first book is coming out next week and I just…yes, I’ve been rendered speechless. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve written and rewritten this blog post. So, instead of telling you how I feel EVERYDAY, why don’t I give you a little sneak peek at chapter one? Yeah, I think that’s best.
Ladies and Gentlemen, chapter one of LINEAGE, coming in hot!!!!
Part One:
Chapter One
Looking for bright, responsible, career-oriented, self-motivated individuals who have excellent people skills and are able to take high volumes of calls while maintaining a positive attitude. Ability to work with others is a must.
I glanced down at the advertisement in my hand. I had none of those qualifications according to my last employer—and pretty much all my other previous ones as well. I was, however, a “foul-mouthed, bad-tempered, under-performing”—still didn’t understand that one—“sarcastic, waste of space.” Although, to be fair, only one of the previous employers actually called me a waste of space, and that was because I had stopped sleeping with him.
This unfortunate lack of options was the reason I stood in the parking lot of Tribec Insurance, smoking the last of my apple-flavored cigars—a habit I learned from my father—wearing a cream-colored dress suit and a pair of matching pumps. I couldn’t afford either of them, and I really hated pumps. But I needed the job, so I dressed the part of the career-oriented, self-motivated candidate the ad was searching for.
Most of the jobs in the area required a college degree, or at least several years of experience. I had no college degree, and the longest I’d ever been employed at one job was six months. Thankfully, Tribec Insurance was always hiring and had no such requirements—a rarity in the uptight community of Alice where Tribec was located.
Through a ring of cigar smoke, I took in the phallic structure that was Tribec Insurance. My eyes landed on the small, stone, pyramid-like shape at the top of the building. It reminded me of an Egyptian Obelisk—a symbol to the god Ra. The Egyptian word for it, “Tejen,” meant “protection” or “defense.”
Why would the occupants of Tribec Insurance erect a symbol of protection or defense on top of the building?
A slight breeze blew over my bare arms, carrying the salty scent of the ocean and stirring the beads of sweat that had formed on them. My new blouse had molded to my back, and my feet had started to sweat. I was generally used to Tulare Island’s oppressive heat, but the anxious jitters in my stomach had caused my skin to flush.
I tried to dispel the nervousness in my stomach. Despite the obvious, I didn’t want to show that I was desperate. My best friend Kara spent most of last night trying to prep me for the interview. She advised me to not ask annoying questions, make sarcastic comments, or let my disgruntled attitude show.
Essentially, she advised me to not be myself. There was a message in there somewhere, but I was choosing to ignore it.
Out of our original group in high school, Kara was the only one who was still in my life. The only one who actually gave a damn about me. Marta and I hadn’t spoken in years, and as for Steve… Well, it was a long time ago.
I glanced at my watch. Damn. I guess I had procrastinated long enough. I put out my cigar, grabbed my blazer from the front seat of my car, shoved the advertisement back in my overly large purse, and headed for the building. As I walked, I attempted to wrap my head around the fact that I was essentially asking Tribec Insurance to let me spend my days chained to a desk, listening to complaints from strangers.
Maybe I should look into prostitution. At least I’d enjoy the job.
July 9, 2019
The Characters in Lineage–EXPOSED!
You’ve met most of my cast, but now is the time to meet the rest! And because it’s been a while since I started introducing you to my characters, I thought putting them all in one blog post might be helpful!
No need for lengthy introductions, I’ll let their words tell you who they are.
There isn’t? Please, tell me more!
Well, I would hope so…
I’m a little bit scared of you!
Um…because…you made their noses bleed…
I hear you on that!
This is sooo true!
Well, now I want to know what you’re hiding!!!!
NO THE HELL I DON’T!!!
That’s pretty deep…
HELL YES I DO!!
Um…are you sure?
Soooo much emotion right now…
And just what are you hiding, Doc?
I can’t even begin to tell you how much fun I had writing about these unique individuals. They are complex and, for lack of a better word, EXTRA!
I hope you enjoy reading about them. And when you finish the book, come back and comment about your experience meeting them. I would love to know what you thought!
Until next time…
Peace, love, and chocolate chip cookies!
Cover Reveal–What You Don’t Know
It is that time AGAIN!!! So excited to show off another cover for one of our authors at Filles Vertes Publishing! Shall I drag out the suspense? No, I’ll show you!
Now that is one fine cover!!!!
Want to know what this awesome book is about?
THE BLURB:
Nora Warren hides her dark side well because she’s had years of practice.
The wife of a lawyer and mother of two girls, she slides under everyone’s radar, never revealing what she really is—a murderer.
At least, she feels like one.
Nora’s plagued by the secrets surrounding her older brother’s suicide decades earlier. Yet she lives as though he never existed.
Now, in her thirties, Nora suspects her husband, Dave, is having an affair with her friend, the wife of a leading US Senate candidate. When her friend’s body is discovered—another apparent suicide—Nora is left with haunting secrets and choices that dredge up her grim nature, the side of herself that no one ever sees. Will she act on her impulses? Mustn’t she?
How far will Nora go to protect the life she has built for herself?
I don’t know about you, but I DEFINITELY want an answer to that question!!!!
If you’re intrigued, like I know you are, make sure you follow Merry on all her social media:
Facebook: @MerryJonesBooks; Twitter: @MerryDDJones ; Instagram: @merrydeedeejones; www.merryjones.com
And, while you’re at it, follow Filles Vertes Publishing for all our upcoming titles!
Facebook: @FVpublishing; Twitter: @FillesVertesPub; Instagram: @fillesvertespub; website: www.fillesvertespublishing.com)
You may resume your day in awe…
