Grace A. Johnson's Blog: Of Blades & Thorns, page 36

Proofreads Available!

Well, would you look at that. Someone is starting a proofreading business.

All right, I wouldn't call it a "business" just yet...just a side hustle. Anyway, point is that I am doing proofreads to make a little extra dough. If you've just finished up a project and you're interested in having your article, short story, or novella proofread, then just read over these guidelines here (they're actually my terms and conditions for my reviewing service, but the same conditions apply, meaning if you submit a proofreading request, you are bound by the same terms and I'll only accept what meets the guidelines stated in the terms and conditions).

But enough of that legal mumbo-jumbo. It's time to get down and dirty.

I'm only taking on projects of up to 30,000 words at this time - that way, I should be able to get the finished product back to you within a week. I charge $0.01 per word - that means the maximum I'll charge is $300. These are basically the lowest rates out there, by the way. Most proofreaders charge $0.05 a word or per hour. Payments will be made through PayPal. More extensive guidelines are in the link above, but to summarize, I'm accepting clean and inspirational and/or Christian fiction to proofread - or clean nonfictional content (i.e., articles, blog posts, etc.). No profane language, explicit content, etc., etc. Same stuff as usual. If you're interested, you can submit a request here and I'll get back to you ASAP! If you're not interested, feel free to share this post on social media or with your writerly friends!

Sound good? Good! I can't wait to get started proofreading your project!

Blog Posts to Inspire and Equip You

These are some amazing posts and articles by my fellow writers and bloggers that have been a great inspiration to me! I hope y'all enjoy reading them as much as I did! (Click the graphic to read the post!)

Review: The Heart's Charge by Karen Witemeyer

*Warnings*

#1 This is a long review, so pull up a chair and grab a bowl of popcorn. You’ll be here awhile.

#2 When I read a review, I want substantial information. So I will not skimp on the details. Which may mean some spoilers, so watch out.

Stars: 5

Synopsis: Mark Wallace and Jonah Brooks, one half of the infamous Hanger’s Horsemen, have found themselves in Llano County...delivering a stranger’s baby. Through an unlikely incident, war-hardened Mark and Jonah find themselves saving babies, caring for orphans, and even falling in love.

Favorite Quote: “Regrets are heavy, son. The fewer you cart around, the better of you’ll be. But when they come, and they will, remember you got a Father who will carry them for you if you let him.”

Karen Witemeyer is actually one of my first and forever favorite authors—up there with Roseanna M. White and Kristi Ann Hunter—and even though this is technically my first time ever reviewing any of her books, I have loved her for years!

Why? Well, probably because (1) her writing style is so well-balanced and yet she has such a unique voice; (2) all of her books are chock full of humor and wit; (3) her plots are always so smoothly paced, intriguing, suspenseful, action-packed, and just plain fun; (4) despite having some action and suspense in almost every single one of her books, the romance is always very well-developed and super sweet and swoony; (5) her characters are different without being outlandish, and so easy to love!

So that sums up the kind of expectations I have whenever I pick up a Witemeyer Western, I guess. (Ooh! That should totally be a genre: Witemeyer Westerns. Yep, I’mma start writin’ me some o’ those! Anyway…) I had extremely high expectations for The Heart’s Charge, both because I absolutely loved the previous book in the series, At Love’s Command, and because this time Witemeyer was full-on writing TWO romances in ONE book!

Now, I know she can do it—she’s the master of well-developed novellas that are never rushed or skimpy; and she pretty much did the same thing before in Heart on the Line with Grace and Amos and Helen and Lee. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t worry about how much I’d enjoy this book…

That being said, I didn’t hesitate one second (I’m honestly not sure if I even read the full blurb) before picking up this book. The day I got this puppy in the mail was a glorious day for me, and I hadn’t even cracked it open yet!

I cracked it open two seconds later, though, and thanks to being down with a cold, I’d read clean through this here book by the end of the day! Definitely worth a case of the sniffles.

Anyway, enough jawing. Let’s get into all the reasons why I loved The Heart’s Charge specifically (as in, not for all the reasons why I love Karen’s fiction...those are automatically applied).

#1 I ADORED the characters. I mean, I love all of Witemeyer’s characters (except for Amos and Grace; they were definitely my least favorites), but Mark and Jonah and Kate and Eliza were just...well, adorable!

Mark was such a cutie-pie. I remember him being hilarious and flirtatious in At Love’s Command, but oh. my. word. Seeing (or reading, I guess) him care for baby Sarah and hanging out with the kiddos at Harmony House and get all flustered around Katie was just pure enjoyment for my little romantic heart.

But Jonah? Yep. Jonah was mah man. I think I loved both him and Mark equally, but there was a part of me that was (1) super excited to read about a black hero and (2) falling in love with his quiet, macho demeanor. Seriously. I does not get any better than that. (Can I just say that although I love the cover, they really should’ve gotten a different model for Jonah? I just imagined him taller and brawnier and darker and frownier and...stuff. That may’ve just been me, though.)

As for Kate, she was great. (Yes, that rhymes on purpose.) I rarely ever get too attached to heroines, and that was still the same for THC, but I did like Kate’s personality and her loving nature. It always pleases me to read about a historical heroine who actually likes children, and even more so do I love reading about characters (especially girls) who follow God’s will for their lives and seek Him in everything, no matter the sacrifices they have to make.

So, on a side note, that right there—the underlying theme of sacrifice and missions—was one of my favorite parts of this novel.

Then there was Eliza. Y’all, that woman was a hoot! Throw Jonah in the mix, and woo-wee! I guess it comes from being a Southerner (as in, being around a lot of black women with thick heads, stubborn hearts, and smart mouths), but reading about Eliza was like making a new best friend. She was so real to me, and that was one thing I really appreciated about both hers and Jonah’s characters—that they were so realistically portrayed in ways that hardly any characters are these days.

Anyway, all four of the main characters had such strong personalities and were just plain awesome. So there’s that.

#2 I guess I’ve already covered this (but then, doesn’t a five-star rating say enough as it is?), but I just want to drive the point home that, yet again, Witemeyer has effortlessly pulled off two stories and four POV characters in one average-sized novel. Her developmental skills are quite possibly the best of anyone author I’ve ever read—and that’s saying a lot right there.

#3 And here’s the point y’all have all been waiting for… I loved how racism was portrayed. I make it a point not to read stories strategically focused on racism, because seriously, y’all—I get enough of that from the news. So I’m always a wee bit concerned when going into a book with colored characters (or, shoot, even female characters—y’all know I can’t stand a feminist agenda) that the author is going to turn the story into an argument against racial injustice.

That’s all well and good for nonfiction, but I don’t read fiction for that reason. I read fiction to escape from this whacked-out world I live in. Anyway…

That’s why I loved how Witemeyer handled the issue of racism in this time. It wasn’t the main focal point, where the story was all about wallowing in self-pity, behaving as a victim, or dealing with gobs amount of hate. Instead, the story was about two individuals who persevered, made a good life for themselves, and showed love to others, no matter their race.

That right there is what I want to read—even from books about racism.

Same goes for how she tackled sexism—what with Eliza and Kate running the orphanage all by themselves. They didn’t establish an orphanage to prove themselves or cause controversy—they did it to help others and follow the Holy Spirit’s prodding—so never did they cause a stir or make a fuss about their gender or any restrictions they had because of it, you know? They were truly strong, independent women—especially considering they showed respect to their authorities, love to their persecutors, and accepted help when it was genuinely needed and lovingly offered.

So, all in all, Witemeyer did a commendable job handling these tougher subjects, for which I am exceedingly grateful.

To sum my rambling up, y’all, this is a prime piece of fiction right here. Witemeyer rarely ever disappoints! The Heart’s Charge was on-par with her best novels (but, then, aren’t they all her best?) and full of heart-pounding suspense, swoon-worthy romance, and her signature wit and humor! I simply cannot wait for the next installment in the Hanger’s Horsemen series! (C’mon, Preach, it’s time to throw your hat in the marriage ring!)

Disclaimer: A complimentary copy of this book was provided by the publisher, publicist, or author, including NetGalley. All opinions expressed are my own.

Snag Your Copy

About the Author

For those who love to smile as they read, bestselling author Karen Witemeyer offers warmhearted historical romance with a flair for humor, feisty heroines, and swoon-worthy Texas heroes. A transplant from California, Karen came to Texas for college, met a cowboy disguised as a computer nerd, married him, and never left the state that had become home.

Winner of the National Reader's Choice Award, HOLT Medallion, ACFW Carol Award, Inspirational Reader's Choice Award, and a finalist for both the RITA and Christy Awards, Karen is a firm believer in the power of happy endings. . . and ice cream. She also loves to reward her readers. Every month she gives away two inspirational historical novels to someone from her newsletter list and offers substantial bonus content on her website. To learn more about Karen and her books, or to join her subscriber list, please visit www.karenwitemeyer.com.

And The Winner Is...

Sonder by Cathy Rose

This story instantly amazed me! I loved the way Cathy wove the Scripture from Isaiah into the story! Her writing is beautiful and poetic, and she intrigued me from the first sentence! Marvelous job, Cathy Rose!

I hope y'all enjoy reading her story, Sonder.

Thus says the Lord who created you, who supplants

He who formed you, who wrestled with God

Fear not, for I have redeemed you.

I have called you by name. You are mine.

When you walk through fire you will not be burned

And the flame will not devour you.

It was just a dream after, wasn’t it?

Let me tell you a story, sir. One you should know if you ever thought about anything other than your own lies. Oh, you played a part in this story, more than I could ever tell you with words…

Once upon a grim time, there was a boy naïve enough to dream you were his friend. He thought you protected him from them, from a mother who only ever dreamed of stealing the crown, from her husband, a king, from blood-stained alcohol memories. You know, the fun stuff. See, those were the days he trusted people like you. I know, right, what kind of fool trusts people these days? But, once upon a time, there was a boy who believed there was a line people just wouldn’t cross.

And you know, that child never got a chance to thank you for the knife you left in his back.

What is the sharpest revenge you can ever have on someone like that, do you wonder?

It’s to heal, regardless.

Years pass and none quietly. All the same, right here, right now, at the Ruins, there is quiet. It’s the end of his journey. Feels strange, chimerical. A rippling fire glides through his bones like threads of soul as he stares silently.

Old days are changing again, refracting from the fever of another war and the rise of necromancy, bleeding black souls that still claw for the living.

Ages ago gifteds bore the responsibility of protecting the world and guiding the people. They bore sacrifice, more than most humans could imagine. That was before the war. They always said the gifteds betrayed them, but you know how victors tell the story. Alessio rarely believes people or stories now anyway. Hot sunset silhouettes crinkles shadows off the summit like a mirrored light, catching the gold irises in his eyes. Just looking at it gives a bit of chill under his skin as numb and hot as a blazing white stake of chronic panic. I’m at the end of it but I don’t know where to go, he thinks. In the end you always just wanted to burn down the world.

This is my journey now, even if it was meant to be yours.

He can hear them all across the crumbled field. Very softly, scattered gifteds drawn to the Temple Ruins sing prayers like white incense into the sky. It’s just enough to sound like hope, like rising from ashes to a new, strange and perhaps even better life.

Lights slowly rise, just small candles lifting to the sky on equally small square platforms of aerial wood.

And he’s really here, like a crown in a dream.

Fear not, for I have redeemed you.

Written words on the back of a map he was given long ago by a healer before he left a place diffused in lies and occult. There weren’t any heroes there, and the words seem cliché or trite or just an ideal in the sky. No heroes, no villains; just hurt people who kept on hurting any way they’re allowed. Because that’s how people act where there’s no light.

There was a story once, you know, in a dream or a memory but it never seemed to have a good meaning. It was about a Tree who just wanted to reach the Sun. Why? Who knows, but it never stopped reaching, climbing to the sky. At least, not until one night a bolt of lightning cracked the Tree apart, blazing alive for three days and nothing but ash in the end of it.

Reaching for something it could never have, I guess…

Seeing the lights rise in the dusk sky can make strange thoughts, even as if the supernatural is real. With all the quiet, a sudden voice behind him makes Alessio flinch. “This is, uh, it?” Asrael, not a bad sort. In fact, far better than most people he’s met, but that isn’t exactly saying much. But he’s still here, so that’s something. Alessio shrugs imperceptibly, nearly touching the edge of his hood before he catches himself and drops his hand away from the stiletto-thin scar slanted across his forehead, hooking his left eyebrow and still crimson like fresh blood.

“I…guess so,” Alessio says. “Where’s–?” Meira. The glassgirl who should never be left unsupervised, ever.

“Oik, what ain’t we done now?!”

He jumps out of his skin with a stifled yelp, so she jumps back from less than a reasonably sized step behind him. Personal space, who needs personal space anymore? Certainly not Meira, who cackles and jostles his shoulder, smearing something sticky on him.

“Is yo gents ever going to over there?” Meira grumbles with her mouth full, her reflective ivory skin making her look like a shiny gold-speckled ghost in the candlelight. Uncertainly, Alessio almost touches his shoulder as if the same as the vestige of unfamiliar physical contact, but instead rubs his arms and stares from her frosting-coated hands to her crumb-crusted face.

“What are you eating…?” Alessio tentatively asks, although he isn’t sure he wants the answer.

“They got cake,” she grunts amiably. “Want some?”

“I’m good,” he says quickly, “thanks.”

With an oddly dainty shrug, she licks her fingers, making little happy noises the whole time. Half looking like a grizzly in the semi-dark, Asrael scrutinizes her cake-smeared face with his thick arms crossed.

“That’s disgusting,” he comments over her, so Meira whirls on him, whipping her indigo braid into Alessio’s arm. She yells at him to show her where she asked and Alessio winces at the noise, slipping a little deeper into the shadows until halted by Asrael’s hand on his back. His dark eyes flash a startled-indignant look at the knight who ignores it to make a face at Meira before dropping his gaze to Alessio.

“So we found the Ruins, don’t you have a plan now?”

“Um,” Alessio blinks and shrugs a little, feeling very small. “Actually, I thought we’d die inexorably long ago so I didn’t plan this far…”

“Oh,” Asrael says. “Ever the optimist, aren’t you?”

He nods innocently. “Thank you.” His gaze slides back to the spattered crowd under the candlelit sky, feeling like he’ll break the reverence of the place if he speaks above a whisper. Their low music rises like something sacred, that gives him an odd sense of being a stranger but at the same time belonging… or longing. Something that feels more home than any saccharine smell of alcohol on cold late nights in a lie-drenched palace.

What does he want from this place? To find - or be - the light he never had? Or just to see if there’s something like not feeling alone?

Around them are remnants of the castle-structured Temple Ruins melted into the eventide air like dry bones. Not the ideal place for a new empire or a new age to rise, is it? Not that I ever meant to have a crown, he thinks. Once upon a dream, there might’ve been hope for a better life.

Was it worth all the lives you stole? To see all the dreams you might’ve had crumble, just to watch the world shatter because you were alone? You know I’m coming to stop you and your own chosen curse. And one day nostalgic hate won’t be enough to hide from you all the ways you might’ve saved your soul

(Like I believed you could…)

Firelight ascends the dark sky like a dream or a crown of magic between memory and soul. It’s a beautiful sight to watch. They always said the Phoenix would come thousands of years ago to burn to ash and die, born again on the first light of morning. Because for some reason, light always seems to come with death and rebirth.

And their singing, hopeful chanting, is perhaps a vision in the sky.

“I don’t belong here…” Alessio murmurs softly. “Like the Tree that was always reaching for the Sun.”

“Right, ok, so just to be clear,” Asrael starts and Alessio braces himself for an excessive dose of accusative sarcasm. “We came all this way, nearly died like… what, five times at least?–” Meira begins counting on her fingers and the knight rolls his eyes at her. “–and let’s not even mention the two biggest world powers, complete with an occultic murder-guild, that are all trying to hunt us down–”

“I never would've guessed,” Alessio mumbles faintly, rubbing the pale scar-tissue on his wrists.

“Aaand, what? We’re just – I know, sightseeing. Because Tall, Dark and Annoying here doesn’t have a plan!”

“I don’t recall asking to be born,” he remarks. Especially not with powers, Alessio adds internally. Powers are… well let’s just say they are and most people don’t like them. Not after the Great War, now that the name gifted became so marred with scandal people just call them ability-borns or aberrants, most not even considered human anymore. Perhaps some strange race like the glass-people at best; an implicit outcast.

Alessio freezes, suddenly feeling Asrael’s hand on his head like he might’ve ruffled the young gifted’s hair if he isn’t hidden under a hood.

“Right, so as the only mature human being here–”

“I ain’t human,” The glassgirl chirps while Alessio tries to decide whether he’ll be more insulted by the implication that he’s not mature or that he’s not exactly human. Asrael sighs. “–I’ve decided we’re going over there,” he finishes.

“Absolutely no–”

“Great!” The knight shoves Alessio out of the shadows, whose fire-flecked eyes spark with a panicked indignation. Instinctively he scans the summit, his new bearings unsteady. As he does, his eyes touch an elderly gifted’s gaze, watching them. Seeing himself detected, his face wrinkles into a thin, ghostly smile and he continues to stare into Alessio.

“Asr–?”

“Don’t worry, they’ve all been half-eyeing us since we came here,” Asrael announces easily. “They probably stare at every new person here.”

Not reassuring enough. Alessio swallows a retort, glancing back at the elderly gifted who still looks directly at him, knowingly. The idea is enough to put an edge on his anxiety. He flinches when Meira pokes him and rubs his arm defensively, which makes her giggle maniacally. So Alessio is in the middle of an attempt at a withering glare when Asrael pushes them onto the cracked summit.

The knight decides to steer them to a smallish group in the crowd with several restless children and adults who are valiantly ignoring them. One boy stares up at him while stuffing as many fingers as will fit into his mouth. Alessio tries to smile at the boy but settles for a tiny awkward nod. A-matter-of-factly Meira grabs Alessio’s hand and squeezes, refusing to let go. Alessio’s eyes widen slightly, stiffening a little and turning scarlet. Do normal people just hold somebody’s hand, he really doesn’t know. This could just be normal for her?!

Then he halts, for a second not able to place why but then it occurs to him. No one is singing, the music has stopped and everything is silent. A deep, deep quiet so that you can hear the wind crinkle and you can hear the fire in the crimson sky disappearing into the dark.

None of them move, even the little boy stops mid-noisy-sucking.

The last light of sunset drenches the world in red and gold, and black shadows stretching across broken structures and behind people like wraiths ready to vanish or possess their owners at the tip of a choice.

And it’s quiet. Except for a still, small wind like a voice in the soul.

Seconds. Minutes. Hours. It would’ve been all the same.

It’s not something I have words for, words evaporate, thoughts wander or dissipate and you can’t even feel it. Just the sense that…there aren’t words to describe it but if you could feel in a moment the whole world connected and alive, constant and quiet. And that’s just the things there are words for. You just know. You know there’s something out there. I can’t even say the word love because it’s just a word, but it’s the closest word you can get or string together.

It’s sunlight in midnight, knowing here and now and being lifted far beyond, both at once. Everything looks real, and small. If you could just see, the world is always in a dream, and for us reality is just a distant dream, what we might call an ideal or spirit or light, or truth. But truth is more than a word or any set of words you can pull together.

There just aren’t words…

All of them are staring at the sky, at the offerings of candlelit prayers. Words he memorized, over and over every day like a soothing repetition, are silent. Noiselessly, Alessio unwinds a cracked wooden map around his neck with written words on its back, causing Meira to shift and clutch his hand stubbornly but without saying a thing (quite unusual for her). Soothing words that might sound like nonsense for this world. But then, this world is just…paper and ink.

Thus says the Lord who created you…

Releasing the glassgirl’s hand he bends over to the ground with the half-shattered map that guided them here.

He who formed you, who wrestled with God

Fear not, for I have redeemed you.

I have called you by name.

You are mine, he finishes in his mind. The map isn’t aerial wood, and it can’t be raised to sky. It’s just here.

When you walk through fire you will not be burned, it says silently, and the flame will not devour you.

Shattered stone remnant of a once-shining Temple filled with lights. Fire crackles in a hushed defiance along the map in his hand. It’s broken anyway, and a sudden wind picks up the sparks, hurling the ashes into the air. Nothing left to give but the ashes of a dead life, after all.

Maybe long ago I would’ve thought I had something. Some polished, shining candle like all the rest to send into the air. Something that can reach the sky, something beautiful and pure. But hell happened.

And I’m still here.

You can watch ashes blow toward the melted-red sky like fractured dreams, whispering between the candles. It’s a cold and a broken sacrifice to a world beyond. Somehow this would be a death, something left behind. And they’d remember this day. The entire world will probably forget one day, but underneath they’d all remember.

“You.” The voice is soft. A murmur around him causes Alessio to look up, catching the elderly gifted’s eyes glimmering there, staring directly at him. And across the entire field everyone is watching him like a new hope, like standing on dry bones.

“He is calling you.” At once Alessio has no idea what the stranger is talking about and knows this is exactly what has tugged at his core his entire life. But this isn’t about feelings. This…

“You mean he’s the next chosen?” Asrael asks behind him but the words hardly register.

I’m not, he thinks numbly, I’m not…

I’m a villain. I’m a victim.

But I’m not a hero.

He can hear Asrael and Meira either protesting or arguing or both but it’s too much to hear. Even in the dark, as his gaze drops to the ground he can see wood beneath him. He thought he was standing on bare ground but it’s a broken piece of pier. Maybe the same one they say the Phoenix burned in. A firebird can do that, but just a wooden tree…

“Many are called,” the old gifted is explaining, “but we call them chosen because they have.”

“I’m not cursed with false humility, sir, when I say I am the last person…” that anyone would want to save the world. “I’m just…” ashes. Not a phoenix, not a beautiful burning bird that can rise from the dead. No, just the broken Tree that wouldn’t stop reaching for the Sun.

“Did the Tree die, or did it become fire?” Alessio flinches, realizing he must’ve thought half out-loud. Somehow, for some reason the gifted speaks like he knows. Wordlessly, Alessio’s ember eyes raise to the air, the candles on the wood gliding through the air like windblown leaves. His hand slides his hood back so the mark on his forehead like the edge of a thorn is visible, as he’s standing beside the fragments of an altar and scattered stone of a Temple. Around him is everything like dry bones. This is it. Everything he’s ever cared about before has already been ripped away. “Here I am.”

Launch Team Signups are Live!

But not for one of my books. Not yet, anyway.

Instead, I am SUPER happy to announce that my AMAZING author friend E. K. Seaver is publishing her first ever book. (Which, take it from me, is absolutely fabulous!)

Like, there is nothing more amazing. (Except for getting saved and getting married and having kids and going to Heaven and, yeah, huge stuff like that. Moving on...)

Anyway, if you'd like to get to know the lovely Miss Seaver better, you can read a post I did several months ago about her ,here or check out her beautiful website ,here!

Now, back to what I was saying about that first-ever book.

The House That Didn't End is a fantasy novella that is (1) absolutely amazing, (2) very well-written, and (3) worth some influence! So here am I spreading the word about THTDE's launch!!!

She's looking for 15-20 social media influencers with a good following, and you are more than welcome to sign up ,here (even if you don't think you fit the bill)! Signups for the cover reveal should be coming in a week or two, and hopefully I'll be able to share that with y'all too!

I won't detain y'all any longer - you better be entering your info into that form!! Oh, but I did want to give a shout-out to another launch team that's accepting members - Kellyn Roth's team for At Her Fingertips, which I shared about a few days ago. Feel free to sign up for that one too ,here!

Bookishly yours,

Grace

(Hey, that's not a half bad sign off, is it? Let me know what you think in the comments!)

Coming Soon: Ignite by Jenna Terese

*squeals with excitement* GUYS! TODAY MARKS TWO WEEKS UNTIL IGNITE RELEASES! THAT MEANS THIS ENTIRE POST IT GOING TO BE IN ALL-CAPS!

Not really, but there will be a looooot of fangirling and squealing and confetti-throwing.

Why? Because this is by far the BEST superhero book I've ever read. (Technically, it's the only one, but the point remains.) So, yeah, maybe Jenna is one of my good friends...but that doesn't mean she isn't also a FANTABULOUS author!!!!

Y'all do remember this beautiful ,cover, don't you? I mean, this thing...*sighs*...it's beautiful.

Anyway, I've got a lot of goodies to share today - and even more coming in the future! On July 2nd, I'll be interviewing the lovely Jenna, and sometime just before or right after, you'll get to read my review of Ignite! (Spoiler: it was amazing!)

Now, let's get into it, y'all!

About the Book

What if superhumans weren’t considered heroes?

When Scarlett Marley is attacked by an illegal super with fire powers, she doesn’t get burned, but now she has a fire-like glow flickering in her eyes.

With superpowers criminalized, she has no choice but to turn herself over to the Superhuman Containment Facility, or risk hurting everyone she loves.

Her normal life seems lost forever, until she is selected to be one of the first to receive the experimental cure to destroy her powers. In exchange, she must first complete one mission: Infiltrate and capture one of the largest gangs of supers in the remains of once-great Rapid City.

With the cure and all her future at stake, Scarlett is prepared to do whatever it takes to bring these criminals to justice so she can return to her family. But this gang and their leader, Rez, aren’t what everyone says, and Scarlett begins to question everything she was ever told about the SCF and the fire flowing in her veins.

The cure is her only hope for returning her life to what it was before, but is that life worth returning to after all?

The Tour

SQEE! Doesn't that just get you all pumped up? I'm know I'm pumped, and I've already read it!!

Now, that's not all! I'm part of the super awesome (see what I did there?) blog tour for Ignite, and I just have to share with you all the posts coming up! Make sure you follow the tour - it begins July 1st!

Where to Buy the Book

Ignite is currently available for preorder in ,paperback and ,eBook on Amazon! Preorder now and have your copy shipped to your house or wirelessly delivered to your device the moment it releases!

About the Author

Jenna Terese believes stories are powerful. That’s why she’s dedicated to creating fiction that will impact the world. You can find this INFP dreaming about the future, fangirling over her favorite books, geeking out about Marvel, playing piano, or sipping a chai tea latte as she writes sci-fi novels.

Check out Jenna's website ,here, and/or follow her on ,Amazon, ,Goodreads, ,Instagram, ,Pinterest, and ,BlogLovin'!

#jennaterese #jennatereseauthor #ignite #igniteduology #yasuperherobook #superherobooks #coverreveal

This post contains affiliate links. I will receive a commission if you make a purchase through the link(s) at no extra cost to you.

The Truth (Reign: Part 10)

Reign

Part 10: The Truth

Renout

I made it a point not to pace. Or fidget. Or really do anything that revealed my internal emotions.

Galen had always paced whenever he was worried or nervous or angry. If he were very bad off, he’d rake his fingers through his hair and huff and puff—and, honestly, there was nothing more agitating to me than that. Not to mention everyone would then know how he was truly feeling, and their confidence in his abilities to handle strenuous situations would waver, and they would begin to worry as well.

So I made it a point not to show any emotion at all—other than the occasional pleasure or flippant nonchalance. The entire kingdom fed off of their leader’s confidence and faith, and when he lacked it, so did they.

But I felt like pacing today.

I held myself in check. I had to, what with Commandant Rubin propping his feet on my desk and Arawn—Galen’s old Guardian—staring at me with a frown on his face and mirth in his eyes. I never could live up to Arawn’s lofty expectations. I had always been too slow, too weak, too reserved, too poor, too...well, nothing like perfect Arawn and his commanding father.

But I’d shown them. Like a petty schoolboy becoming the professor’s most favored, I had risen to the top and gained the approval of the king. Instead of guarding buildings, old traditions, and hunting grounds, I guarded the innermost thoughts of Magni’s king. I guarded the kingdom’s secrets. I guarded her future—something Rubin and Arawn, with their antiquated ideals, would never understand.

I had bigger and better plans than they did. I would bring prosperity and peace to Magni—not scandalous politics, clandestine affairs, and brutal wars. I would restore honesty to the people and faith to the king. Under my rule, everything would change.

Everything would be set right.

And Galen would have justice.

“So you’ve lost them, you say?” Arawn’s smirk was heard in his voice, though his lips did not yet betray him.

“That depends upon your interpretation of the word,” I said, as politely as one could between clenched teeth.

His eyes narrowed to slits as he stalked forward. “Don’t play coy with me, Renout. Tell me the truth.”

You want the truth, Arawn? Then tell me. Where were you that night? Where were you all the other nights? Why didn’t you—

Nay, Renout, you must not go there. What was done is done forever, and there was nothing he could have done to stop them. Nothing you nor Galen nor anyone in this palace could have done.

They made their bed. And now he is forced to lie in it. I leaned over my desk, meeting his unyielding gaze head-on. “I must ask that you refrain from using my first name. You may refer to me as Your Majesty or Your Highness.” Because no one but Galen ever used my first name. No one but Ambrosia, and she doesn’t count.

Because she’ll be dead soon, is that it, Ren?

I inwardly growled at my taunting thoughts, urging them to leave me be. Except for all the lies I’d told to keep my plans under wraps, I was doing nothing wrong. Most likely Ambrosia would be sent to live with a respectable family, away from the castle, and only Brehn would die—depending on the people’s ruling.

And he deserved whatever punishment they deemed sufficient.

“I will call you neither, You Grace,” he spat, spittle literally flying from his mouth as he fisted the folds of my robes in his hands. “Tell me the truth, Regent. Did you lose them?”

I chuckled, flicking my hands to his white-knuckled hands. Shouldn’t leave but a few wrinkles in my clothes. Nothing I couldn’t have ironed out. “What’s it to you if I did?”

“Unlike some people, I care about the well-being of others. And not only do I care to know if my friend and my queen are meandering through the wilderness with no protection, I also would like to know what you plan to do to them!”

“Haven’t we been through this, Arawn? We need to purge the throne of—”

“Foreign blood, we know,” Rubin muttered from his reclining position behind his son. I could’ve sworn he rolled his eyes at me to go with his disrespectful tone.

If only I could tell them the truth. Then they would see.

But Galen wouldn’t have wanted that.

“I know there’s something more at play, Regent. You wouldn’t track them down if you just wanted them gone.” Arawn finally released my robes and stepped back, folding his arms over his chest and frowning once more.

“Who’s to say I wouldn’t? A smart man would keep note of his enemies whereabouts. I wouldn’t want Brehn getting any ideas about revolting or taking over the kingdom.”

“He should. He’s the rightful heir.”

“Don’t give me that rot, Arawn! We need fresh blood—pure blood—on the throne! Brehn...Brehn isn’t fit for the crown. And I can’t trust Ambrosia with his influence over her.”

Brehn wasn’t even fit for the Guardians, let alone the title of prince or king. The wretch deserved to be left on the streets, a pauper free to do as he would, rather than ruining his family’s lives.

“I know you’re up to something. This plot to have the crown...all the lies...the confusion...you’re messing with my mind, Renout. You’re weaving all these little webs, expecting me to get trapped in one of them. But I won’t, trust me. I don’t know if you’re worse off than I thought or if you know something I don’t or what—but I will find out.”

I looked up into Arawn’s eyes, catching the turmoil and uncertainty there. I wished I could tell him. Oh, how I wished! He was presumption and arrogant, yes, but he knew justice. If he knew...he might would understand. He might help me put things right.

And yet...I knew he wouldn’t. Brehn was his friend. And like I stood faithful by Galen, Arawn would stand by Brehn. And like I fought for prosperity, Arawn would fight for ideals.

I sighed, tearing my gaze away and snuffing out my hopes. “The truth is, Arawn, that you don’t want to know.”

Missed Part 9? Read it ,here!

#theriver #reign #serial #fantasy #theguardiansofmagni

The Contest Has Ended!

The contest has ended, dear writers and readers. And, y'all, I am so full of gratitude right now that I could just cri, as my friend says.

I received a total of ten entries. That means ten fantastic writers took time out of their month, their week, their day, the time they should be sleeping...to write a short story for little more than some recognition in my eensy weensy community here. That means ten amazing stories have been written...

And I can only share one. Seriously, you guys, there was nearly a three (possibly four) way tie, because ALL of these stories were amazing. And because of that (and the fact that there will only be one winner), I wanted to recognize each of the entrants here and let y'all give them a big round of applause.

Grey S. Park Linyang Zhang Issabelle Perry Katherine Perry Lydia Smith Joelle Stone Cathy Rose Sami Eastwood Relia Specht Abigail Metzger

Thank y'all for taking the time to submit a story! I wish you all could win, but, sadly, I've rigged this contest so you can't. (I know, my bad. Should've picked ten winners, right?) Special thanks to the lovely girls at Teen Writers' Nook for sharing about this contest and a super special thanks to my friend Emily for helping me pick a winner! I was so in love with all of these stories that I needed a second opinion.

In the end, we found our winner, and I just want all of you to know that y'all's writing is SPECTACULAR and your stories are FABULOUS! If you didn't win, feel free to share your story on your own blog or social media or what have you! It deserves to be read! (Or, you know, submit for Imagine, which I shared about ,here!)

Oh, and speaking of, for those who requested feedback, I will be getting to that over the next few days! I can't promise y'all much, because like I said, your submissions were marvelous! But ask and ye shall receive, right?

And just a reminder: the winning story will be shared on June 20th, so stay tuned to read the story that captured both mine and Emily's hearts!

As always, keep writing and peace out, my lovelies! (I'mma seriously have to come up with a better closing phrase.)

#contest #writingcontest #writing #shortstories #yallareawesomeanddontyouforgetit

Coming Soon: At Her Fingertips by Kellyn Roth

*cues incessant squealing* Check. out. this. beauty.

If you've been following me for long, then you know how much I've enjoyed Kellyn Roth's books.

If, however, you haven't been following me for long, then I suggestion you read the following posts:

Becoming Miss Knight Releases Today! Author Interview: Kellyn Roth Review: The Dressmaker's Secret by Kellyn Roth Review: Ivy Introspective by Kellyn Roth Review: Becoming Miss Knight by Kellyn Roth

All right, now that we've got that out of the way, it's time for me to gush like crazy about the latest installment in The Chronicles of Alice & Ivy!

At Her Fingertips is releasing on July 17th, 2021, and closer to time, you'll see my interview with one of the characters - Ivy Knight - and my review of this lovely Victorian novel! But for now, I get to introduce it to you!

About the Book

She’s willing to do anything to follow her plan.

Debutante Alice Knight is ready for her first social season in London. She’s determined to impress society and her mother with an affluent match, at last escaping her past and embracing a future of her own making.

Peter Strauss, an American reporter visiting England, isn’t exactly what Alice had in mind. However, his friendship proves invaluable as Alice faces the challenges of her debut. Almost immediately, she attracts the attention of a well-born gentleman—perfect save for the simple fact that he’s not a Christian.

The life she longs for is finally at her fingertips, but between her own heart and the convictions of her faith, she isn’t sure she ought to grasp it.

About the Author

Kellyn Roth is a Christian historical women’s fiction & romance author from North-Eastern Oregon who has independently published multiple novels, the most notable being The Chronicles of Alice and Ivy series. You should definitely call her Kell.

Kell lives on family-owned property outside an unmemorable but historical town with her parents, two little brothers, arbitrary cat, precious border collies, a dozen cows, and lots of chickens. She also possesses a classic, vintage aesthetic which does not at all speak to her country girl side, but such is life.

When not writing, Kell likes to blog, teach writing to her various students, have day jobs which allow her to keep her car properly insured, and spend lavish amounts of money on Dairy Queen french fries. She also likes to talk about Keira Knightley and her own books way too much.

You can follow Kell her social media accounts (Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, MeWe, Goodreads) and at her blog and website! Better yet, sign up for her newsletter to get all kinds of fantastic bookish goodies in your inbox!

GRAPHICS!

Y'all know I love graphics and quotes and fun visual stuff, which means I have to share some of these super awesome quote graphics with you!!!

Feel free to share any (or all) of these on social media!

Aren't these just fantastic? There are sooo many awesome quotes in here - I couldn't pick just one!

Finally, it's time to share the links. At Her Fingertips is available for preorder on Amazon for only $3.99! Don't forget to shelve the book on Goodreads and follow Kell!

Y'all have a fabulous day, my lovelies! Be sure to add At Her Fingertips to your TBR list and tell your friends!

Review: A Lady in Attendance by Rachel Fordham

*Warnings*

#1 This is a long review, so pull up a chair and grab a bowl of popcorn. You’ll be here awhile. #2 When I read a review, I want substantial information. So I will not skimp on the details. Which may mean some spoilers, so watch out.

Stars: 3.5

Synopsis: Wrongful charges have put Hazel in a precarious position—ostracized from her family, disowned from polite society, and unable to live the life she was raised for. So, armed with a false name and no small amount of baggage, she heads to Amherst to start a new life as a lady in attendance to the local dentist, Dr. Gilbert Watts. Will an unlikely friendship between the fiery redhead and quiet dentist unlock her heart and her secrets, giving her the key to freedom?

Favorite Quote: “Only God knows our true worth.”

I have heard tremendously great things about Rachel Fordham and the reviews I’ve read for A Lady in Attendance have all been extremely positive. So, yeah, I came into this with really high expectations. And, unfortunately, they weren’t necessarily met. Now, instead of rattling off all of my personal pet peeves with this story—of which there were many—I’m going to focus on the legitimate qualms I had with ALIA...but first, let’s talk about the good things, shall we?

In spite of it all, I had fun reading this story. It started off kind of boring, slow and yet spotty in some ways, you know? Kind of like a movie that skips from scene to scene as if it’s trying to move on to something important or interesting...without actually moving on to anything at all. But, about a third of the way through, it started picking up and, in between my cringing, I laughed a few times and thoroughly enjoyed myself. It wasn’t one of those reads that depresses you or makes you think long and hard—it was light and quick, so I got through it pretty fast and didn’t feel myself nodding off too bad.

After a while, it began flowing much more smoothly and, of course, things started happening. I was honestly terrified that it was going to be one of those plot-less, flimsy little stories that could’ve easily been a novella but just...weren’t...but it wasn’t! There was a smidge of suspense and mystery, what with finding out who framed Hazel for burglary and why.

I think it was that bit of mystery that kept me reading the whole way through, since I never really connected with the characters. At all. Hazel was nice and she certainly wasn’t an obnoxious heroine—quite the opposite, in fact. I’d say she was kind of bland, to be honest, and I think she had the potential to have a strong personality and connection with readers, but I never saw it come out. A lot of books are simply like that—distant and detached—and although it worked for the classics, nowadays stories that are meant to inspire should have characters that are inspired, if that makes sense. (It probably doesn’t, but you know, that’s me for you.)

As for Gilbert? Well, y’all know I prefer bodice-ripping alpha males. Naw, not really! (At least, not all the time…) I can appreciate an upstanding, God-fearing beta male, trust me. Probably more than half of my own heroes are godly beta males (and are secretly teddy bears on the inside).

But Gil? He just seemed a little lackluster, mainly in the same way Hazel did—but, for once, I think I preferred Hazel to Gilbert. She was more real, more confident, and more personable—which makes for both a better person and a better character. Gilbert was so awkward, and even though I guess that was part of his character, it made him kinda cringe-worthy. There’s a way to do awkward, not-so-quiet quite dentists, and there’s a way not to do them. Somewhere, Fordham crossed the line and Gilbert was made into a dork. Come to think of it, it was less his character itself and more the situations he was put in, the way they were described, and how he and Hazel just kept cracking jokes about him being a quiet dentist.

Seriously. The single best way to make a character well-defined and their personality clear to the reader is to not mention it. See Section 4, Page 52 of the Writer’s Code, where the show-don’t-tell rule is explained. Don’t ever describe the character’s personality unless it’s already obvious how they act, and don’t bring it up in dialogue. Show us how quiet Gil is, then mention it a few chapters later.

I don’t know, maybe that was just me. Like I said, my tastes run a little differently. Along the lines of Irish Catholic womanizers, to be exact.

But enough about that.

I think there was a lot of potential for there to be a great theme of redemption and forgiveness (and, in a way, there was with Eddie and Hazel), but the theme and some of the Christian content in general was fairly subtle. Which was partially due to the fact that Gil seemed to take Hazel’s confession pretty well—which I’m not upset about at all. Eventually you start to get tired of the drama and are glad when a hero just nods and continues on, you know?

As for Fordham’s writing style, I was very disappointed. That was probably the main thing that made me lift my eyebrows. I’ve heard so much good about Fordham’s novels, and either A Lady in Attendance just didn’t deliver this time, or Fordham’s writing isn’t really as good as it could be. There were some sentences that were stilted or unclear, and some scenes that were just strangely written. Nothing about her style or prose stuck out to me as being unique or captivating.

To be honest, the best part of A Lady in Attendance was the mystery surrounding Hazel’s false charges, and that was very interesting to see play out. The characters were pretty two-dimensional and the romance aspect of the plot was kind of cheesy. Come to think of it, it’d make a great Hallmark movie!

Long story short, there were good parts to this story and some eh parts, but it was a welcome respite from a lot of depressing dramas and Christian fiction with not-so-Christian content, you know? Fordham’s writing was kind of bland and the beginning of the story was very slow, but once I got into it, I did in fact enjoy myself.

Disclaimer: A complimentary copy of this book was provided by the publisher, publicist, or author, including NetGalley. All opinions expressed are my own.

About the Author

Rachel Fordham has long been fascinated by all things historical or in the words of her children “old stuff”. Often the historical trivia she discovers is woven into her children's bedtime tales. Despite her love for good stories she didn’t attempt writing a novel until her husband challenged her to do so (and now she’s so glad he did). Since that time she’s often been found typing or researching while her youngest child naps or frantically writing plot twists while she waits in the school pick-up line. In addition to her passion for storytelling she enjoys reading, being outdoors and seeing new places. Rachel lives with her husband and children on an island in Washington state.

Learn more about current projects at rachelfordham.com.

This post includes an affiliate link. I may earn a small commission when you click on the link at no additional cost to you.