Janette Rallison's Blog, page 25
November 16, 2014
Random chose Britney
Congrats! Send me your address at jrallisonfans at yahoo dot com and I’ll send you the book.
November 10, 2014
Son of War giveaway
In honor of the fact that Son of War, Daughter of Chaos is now available in paperback, I’m doing a paperback giveaway this week.
Aislynn has been warned about the enemy–in this case people with green glowing eyes who can leap long distances (and who, it turns out, control swarms of flesh eating scarabs.) To win a copy leave me a comment telling me who your fictional enemy would be. You get an extra point if you tweet/facebook/instagram what an awesome book Son of War, Daughter of Chaos is, and an extra point if you review the book on amazon. (I know some of you have already read the ebook.)
Let me know in your comment if you’ve earned other points. Good luck.
It really is an awesome book. Just saying.
November 3, 2014
Where does he get these ideas?
Here’s my son’s latest web comic.
October 28, 2014
Saying goodbye is such sweet sorrow–except for the sweet part
In case you’re wondering why I haven’t written anything this week, here is a video of the world’s cutest ten-month-old and what happens when I say goodbye.
October 21, 2014
Slayers three update
So, I’m supposed to be working on Slayers Three. And I will. Just as soon as I get off the internet. I don’t know why I’m having a hard time with it–but I partially blame it on my the-girl-who-hears-demons, no-I-don’t-have-a-real-title-for-it book. I’ve written nearly 50,000 words on it now (around 200 pages) And in the meantime Tori and Jesse haven’t even gotten through their first scene together.
But here’s what’s happening in the story:
I based Willow (Ryker’s cousin) on my middle daughter, who loved the first book of Slayers. She hasn’t read the second book yet, so I told her I’m killing off Willow. This presents a problem for the characters since Willow becomes vital in the climax of the story. But oh well.
I also told middle daughter that Tori wouldn’t end up with the guy she’s voting for. Yeah, I know–you never knew authors decided plot points this way, did you?
(This may change if middle daughter reads said book.She apparently has time since I’m writing really slowly.)
I just have one tiny thing to write on the demon book (so I don’t forget it) and then I’m back to flying superheroes. (Of course, writing one tiny thing is the way I reached 50,000 words on this book.)
October 16, 2014
Just Kissed–a bargain for those who like kissing
Okay bargain hunters and romance lovers, here’s a deal for you. Right now My Double Life is in a box set, rubbing shoulders with two other kissable romances for just 2.99
**If you’ve already read My Double Life (or the other books) will you please go to Amazon and leave a review? Right now the set only has 5 reviews. They look lonely and need friends.**
REGALLY BLONDE by USA Today bestselling author Heather Horrocks
Former beauty queen Jamie Summers has more problems than just world peace to worry about.
When her boyfriend Christopher proposes for the third time, she hesitantly accepts. Since he immediately leaves for an extended overseas business trip, she’s relieved to have some time to get used to the idea, placing the ring safely beside her tiara and not mentioning it to anyone. New neighbor David Stevens has good reason to avoid beautiful women, but when his three-year-old daughter Sunny sees Jamie, she’s convinced she’s her mommy. He begins to learn more about her, he realizes she’s not like his ex-wife, and he’s glad she’s not wearing any man’s ring. How did life get so complicated so quickly? Jamie’s gone from Miss California to Miss America to Big Mistake.
MY DOUBLE LIFE by USA Today bestselling author Janette Rallison
Her whole life, Alexia Garcia has been told that she looks just like pop star Kari Kingsley, and one day when Alexia’s photo filters through the Internet, she’s offered a job to be Kari’s double. This would seem like the opportunity of a lifetime, but Alexia’s mother has always warned her against celebrities. Alexia flies off to L.A. and gets immersed in a celebrity life. Not only does she have to get used to getting anything she wants, she romances the hottest lead singer on the charts, and finds out that her own father is a singing legend. Through it all, Alexia must stay true to herself, which is hard to do when you are pretending to be somebody else!
FAIR CATCH by Amazon bestselling author Cindy Roland Anderson
Ellie Garrett never planned on being a divorced, single mother—she also never planned to get married again. Ever. Her ordinary life changes when the house across the street is sold. The new owner is Nick Coulter—quarterback and MVP for the Sacramento Defenders. Oh yeah, he’s also one of People magazine’s top 100 most beautiful people and America’s most eligible bachelor. So why would she pick him to have her first crush on since her divorce? As Nick and Ellie become acquainted, their mutual attraction is hard to ignore. But Ellie’s been hurt before by her womanizing ex-husband. She’s not sure that Nick has left behind his playboy reputation. Can she risk falling in love with the celebrity football player or will she miss her chance at scoring big in the game of love?
October 8, 2014
The Slayers Three prologue
(Proof that the book is at least started–although this hasn’t been grammarfied at all.)
Prologue
You should never make promises you can’t keep.
Fourteen years ago
Alastair Bartholomew was about to make a deal with the devil, or at least a deal with his father—which felt like the same thing. Alastair hadn’t even asked for the loan yet, but he knew there would be a price to pay, a little bit of his soul thrown in with the bargain.
He glanced over the maps, brochures, and realtor flyers he’d spread over his kitchen table. Buying land was the first step to building the Slayer training ground. He’d been looking at properties for the last six months. A stack of construction bids for cabins, stables, an indoor rifle range, and a cafeteria sat next to the brochures. He would also need money for research. He not only had to figure out what sort of electric pulse a dragon’s heart put out, he would need to build a machine to replicate it. There were so many expenses.
Alastair turned his attention to the maps of Virginia, Maryland, Delaware, and Pennsylvania. Was seclusion more important in a campsite or accessibility to the DC area? The closer his camp was to DC, the more expensive the land would be.
Shirley, his wife, had put their two year old daughter, Bess into her favorite white pajamas and was now patiently waiting for the toddler to finish her bottle.
Even at two years old, it was a battle of the wills.
“Aren’t you done yet?” Shirley cooed. “It’s time for a story and then bed.”
Bess regarded her mother while taking slow sips of her bottle. In her fuzzy white footie pajamas, she always reminded Alastair of a baby polar bear. Bess’s hair was a wild disarray of curls. Her blue eyes were much too alert for this time of night.
Shirley bent lower to be on Bess’s level. “Don’t you think it’s time for your bottle to go bye-bye? You’re a big girl now. Big girls use sippy cups.”
Bess popped the bottle out of her mouth. “No,” she said, “Ba-ba mine.” Then she inserted the bottle back in her mouth.
Shirley sighed, checked the kitchen clock, and turned to her husband. “I’d better put her to B-E-D before you know who comes, or we’ll never get her to sleep.”
Bess let the bottle drop from her mouth. Her eyes lit up with happiness. “Ice cweam twuck!” she exclaimed, and toddled fast-pace to the front door.
Instead of going after her, Shirley narrowed her eyes at Alastair. “How come every time I use the term ‘you know who’ Bess thinks I’m talking about an ice cream truck?”
Alastair kept his gaze firmly on the stack of septic tank bids in front of him. “I have no idea.”
Shirley put one hand on her hip. “You know you shouldn’t feed Bess ice cream. She won’t eat healthy food if you give her junk food.”
The doorbell rang, saving Alastair from further discussion of what he and Bess did while Shirley was gone. “That’s probably my father,” Alastair announced and went to the front room. Bess was already on her tippy-toes doing her utmost to get around the child-proof handle on the doorknob. She loved opening doors. Unfortunately, she also loved running outside and shedding her clothes on the sidewalk.
Alastair opened the door. His father—Roderick Bartholomew to people who knew him in the states—stood there, hands thrust into his jacket pocket. Years of ranch work had given Alastair’s father a lean, muscled build that was only now giving way to the softness of middle-age. He had always had a stern expression and the lines in his face had grown increasingly deeper in the years since they’d fled St. Helena. Alastair never asked how often his father thought of Nathan. Alastair knew his father thought of him every day, the evidence was there in the grooves of his father’s face.
Now that Alastair had a child of his own, he understood the force of that emotion even more completely. You didn’t forget it when someone killed your child.
Bess saw her grandpa and lifted her small hands up in glee. “Bampa!”
The sternness on Roderick’s face melted. He bent down and swooped Bess into his arms. “How’s my princess?” He snuggled his face into her neck, a move that always made Bess shriek with laughter. After he’d extracted enough shrieks to ensure that Bess wouldn’t sleep any time in the near future, Roderick carried her into the living room and sat down on the couch with Bess on his lap. She immediately began rifling through his pockets to see if she could extract treasures such as keys, pens, or lint. Alastair and Shirley sat down on the adjoining loveseat.
“So,” Roderick said, “You want a loan.” He was always one to get right to the point.
No one would have known by looking at Roderick’s plain clothes and worn jacket that he was a wealthy man. His businesses—some of which he discussed with Alastair, some of which he didn’t—were quite successful. Roderick had a talent for making money, perhaps because he didn’t let things like rules, laws, or ethics stand in his way.
“I need a loan for the Slayer camp,” Alastair clarified. He stayed away from his father’s money for the most part. Any time his father paid for something—usually lavish gifts for Bess—Alastair felt vaguely like he was condoning insider trading. He had only decided to ask for his father’s help because there was nowhere else to turn. He could get a bank loan that would cover the price of land and a few cabins, but he couldn’t very well explain to financial institutions that he also needed to build a second specialized camp that would serve as a secret training ground. “It’s our best way to stop Overdrake,” Alastair told his father. “When he attacks DC, we’ll have a group of Slayers who are capable of killing his dragons.”
Alastair had mentioned his idea of a training camp to his father before. He’d never asked for funding until now though. He felt the weight of his request. It would take millions of dollars to get the camps functional, and who knew how long it would take for the regular camp to start returning the investment.
Roderick didn’t speak for a moment. Alastair was used to his father’s silences. He waited.
“You only know where one Slayer child is,” Roderick finally said. “One. And that’s Bess. How can you build an entire camp on the hope that more Slayer kids will somehow find their way to it?”
“It’ll be a dragon slayer themed camp,” Alastair pointed out. “The right children will be drawn to it.”
Bess had pulled a penny from her grandfather’s pocket. He took it from her before she could see how it tasted. “They’ll be drawn to it? That’s a long shot, and you know it.”
Shirley and Alastair exchanged a glance. “I’ll show him,” Shirley said. She walked out of the room. A minute later she came back with a bag of stuffed animals.
She sat down in front of Bess and took out a cat. “What’s this?”
Bess dropped the pen she had just liberated from her grandpa’s jacket and glanced at the cat. “Ki-ki.”
“That’s kitty,” Shirley interpreted for Roderick. She pulled a stuffed dog from the bag. “What’s this?”
Instead of answering, Bess made barking noises, jumping on the couch with each bark.
“Right. A doggy.” Shirley reached into the bag again. “What’s this?” She slowly took out a stuffed dragon.
Bess stiffened and scowled. “Bad dwagon!” She slid from the couch, grabbed the toy and flung it on the floor. “No, no!” she yelled and jumped on the toy several times.
Roderick watched, his mouth slightly ajar. “You taught her to do that.”
“We didn’t,” Shirley said. “You should see what she did to the fairy tale picture books I checked out of the library. I didn’t realize they had pictures of dragons in them until it was too late.” She shook her head at the thought. “I had to pay the library thirty six dollars to replace them.”
Bess stepped off the toy and watched it, seemingly checking it for signs of life. She waved a scolding finger at the smashed animal. “No, no, bad dwagon!”
Alastair regarded his daughter with a sense of resignation. “I have to keep all my dragon research books on high shelves. Otherwise I’m afraid she’ll impale them.”
Satisfied that her dragon toy would not be bothering the family again, Bess picked up the stuffed animal, trotted across the room to a garbage can, and dropped the toy inside. “All bedder!” she chimed and padded back over to the others. She tried unsuccessfully to climb onto the couch by herself until Roderick picked her up and put her on his lap again. “Conquering dragons before you’re potty trained, eh princess?”
“All bedder!” she said again.
It wasn’t all better. Alastair couldn’t stand the thought of his daughter ever seeing, let alone fighting, a real dragon. And yet, that’s what he was planning. That’s what he was asking his father to give him a loan for.
Alastair did what he always did when those thoughts emerged in his mind. He pushed them away. He had time until the dragons attacked. Fifteen to twenty years. He would find and train so many Slayers, his daughter would only bare a small portion of the danger.
“Slayers are natural dragon fighters,” Alastair reminded his father. “Any Slayer children in the area will want to come to camp. My goal is to have the regular facilities open in three years. That way when the Slayer children are old enough to go to camps, mine will already be well established. I’ll offer scholarships for families who can’t afford the cost. We’ll find and train all of the Slayers.”
Roderick turned his attention to Bess. She was busily shoving his car keys down between the couch cushions. He didn’t give his disappearing keys any notice. Instead he ran a hand over Bess’s wispy curls. “She reminds me of Nathan.”
“I know,” Alastair said. He barely remembered his brother as a toddler and yet Bess reminded him of Nathan too—determined, mischievous, exuberant.
Roderick’s gaze swung back to Alastair, all his former sternness restored. “I don’t want her anywhere near a dragon. Brant Overdrake can’t even know she exists.”
Alastair gave the answer he told himself every time he had the same thought. “All of the Slayers, including Bess, will be safer from both dragons and Overdrake if they’re trained.”
His father couldn’t argue with that. If Nathan had known that he was a Slayer and that Overdrake was a dragon lord, Nathan would probably still be alive.
Roderick brushed one of Bess’s curls behind her ear. His hands looked rough and worn against the little girl’s smooth skin. “You can train Bess,” Roderick conceded. “But I don’t want her anywhere near a battle.”
“None of us do,” Shirley said. She was being uncharacteristically quiet and somber during this conversation.
“We’ll hope for the best,” Alastair added. “However, we have to prepare for the worst,”
Done hiding the keys, Bess sat down beside her grandfather and tried to pry his wedding ring from his finger.
“I’m not giving you opinions or platitudes,” Roderick said. “I’m telling you my terms for funding your camp. You can train Bess, but when Overdrake attacks, she stays out of it.”
Alastair glanced across the room at the garbage can and the dragon tail that stuck out. “How am I going to keep her out of it?”
“You’re the parent. You’ll figure something out. And speaking of parents, don’t tell your mother any of this. It will just make her worry.”
Over the years, Alastair and his father had kept a lot of things from his mother.
Unable to pull off her grandpa’s ring, Bess bent down to bite it. Roderick gently moved his hand away. “No,” he told her.
Bess laughed and tried to bite his finger again.
Shirley stood up, walked over, and picked up the little girl. “No biting, Sweetie.”
Bess chomped her teeth together. “I a cwocodile.”
Shirley made a tsking noise and carried Bess into the kitchen to have a talk with her about appropriate animal behavior.
Alastair watched them go and inwardly sighed. “We can’t even keep her from biting people. What makes you think we’ll be able to control her when she’s a teenager?” He lifted one hand in frustration. “Has anyone figured out yet how to control teenagers? I missed that announcement.”
Roderick leaned back against the couch. “I’ll give you two million to build your camp, clear and free. It won’t be a loan. It’s a gift.”
A gift, that was, as long as Alastair went along with his father’s demands. Alastair didn’t answer right away. He knew his father wanted the slayer children found and trained just as much as Alastair wanted it, more maybe. Nathan’s death wouldn’t be completely avenged until Overdrake was stopped.
“I could go to the government for funding,” Alastair said, attempting to force his father into a better bargaining spot. “They might help me.”
Roderick only shook his head. “You have no way to prove anything to the government. Dragons and dragon lords—they’ll think you’re crazy. Probably put you on one of those watch lists so you’re frisked every time you go to an airport.”
Silence stretched out between the two men. Alastair looked up at the ceiling then back at his father in aggravation. “It will take years to train the children. They’ll trust me. They’ll depend on me. How am I supposed to tell them that I’m sending them into a battle I won’t let my daughter go to?”
“So don’t tell them,” Roderick said. “When the time comes, Bess can call in sick.”
“And what will Bess think of me for making this sort of deal?”
Roderick pulled his phone from his breast pocket. “I don’t care what she thinks as long as she’s alive.” He turned on his phone. “Give me your bank account number, and I’ll have the funds to you by Monday.”
Two million dollars. Alastair could buy the land within the week and start on the zoning process.
“Well?” his father asked. “Do we have a deal?”
Alastair thought of the stacks of bids and lists of expenses sitting on the table. What other choice did he have? If he depended on outside financing, maybe the camp would never get off the ground. Wasn’t it better to assure that the rest of the Slayers were trained to fight instead of standing on principal and having none be trained at all?
Alastair nodded at his father. “All right.” A part of him felt like he had sold out, that he had compromised himself. Another part felt an overwhelming sense of relief. Bess wasn’t allowed to fight. He wouldn’t lose her the way he’d lost his brother.
Alastair would just have to come up with a way to tell her about this stipulation before the battle began.
October 4, 2014
Cinder and Ella shout out
Kelly Oram is a talented writer in my writers’ group. So when she asked me if I wanted to be part of her virtual launch, I said sure. It involved doing something on facebook (I was going to figure it out, really I was) but on the launch date, I completely forgot about it and was gone all day. Yeah, I really am that forgetful. I wish I had some good excuse for my lack of functioning brain cells (did time in the secret service and was a victim of nerve gas) but no. It’s just me. So I’m doing a shout out for the book. Here it is in all of its utter cuteness. You can read a sample here: http://www.amazon.com/Cinder-Ella-Kelly-Oram-ebook/dp/B00MRLYO7K/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1412453422&sr=8-1&keywords=cinder+and+ella
September 26, 2014
What I should be doing . . .
I should be working on Slayer 3 right now. I meant to be working on Slayers 3 right now. Look, here’s even a photographic proof that I went to DC to research places for scenes.
I put this photo up on facebook with a caption: This looks like a good place for a dragon attack.
On the way home, TSA hand swiped me to see if I’ve been making explosives.
I told them that I didn’t even make dinner, but they still tested me anyway.
Well, it’s nice to know that they read my facebook posts.
And here I am at the Kennedy Center. I’m going to have a scene there too, between Jesse and Tori on the balcony. The ticket guy got very suspicious when I asked him what time intermission was during the plays and how long it lasted. (What? Those aren’t normal questions?) He out and out didn’t know how many people would be on the balcony during intermission. (And if he doesn’t know, then I’m assuming no one knows, so nobody is allowed to write reviews telling me it’s unbelievable that the balcony is so deserted.)
So yeah, that’s what I’m supposed to be doing. This week I’ve been playing catch up from being out of town for a month, and in my few moments of free time, I’ve been working on a book about a girl who hears demons. Yeah, I know it’s not what I’m supposed to be doing. Call me a rebel at heart. I’m on about page 50, which means I’m 1/5-1/6th of the way done already. It’s sooo tempting to just go ahead and finish it.
