Jennifer Allis Provost's Blog, page 18
June 6, 2013
COPPER GIRL teaser - Chapter One, Part Two
Without further ado, here is the second half of Chapter One:
My phone screamed for attention, thus ending the best dream that had ever been dreamed. Ever. I fumbled to silence it, then shook myself back to reality. I still felt warm and glowy from the dream, almost after-glowy. It wasn’t until I stretched and got tangled in my clothing that I noticed anything was amiss. The straps of my dress had slid down around my elbows, and the dress itself was unbuttoned to my waist. What’s more, my bra was all askew and a nipple was dangerously close to freedom. I shot a quick glance around the parking lot as I fixed my clothing; luckily, there was no one around, either of the human or robotic drone persuasion. I hoped no one had gotten an eyeful of how I was apparently fondling myself in my sleep. Some dream. Soon enough, I got the top half of my dress squared away and reached into the passenger seat, only to come up empty. My panties were gone.
Great. Either one of my coworkers had found me sleeping and stolen them, or a randy squirrel had absconded with my delicates. Hoping for the latter, I stuffed my feet back into my sandals and returned to the office and my ever-growing mountain of paperwork.Speaking of the mountain, there was a fresh sheaf of reports on my desk, ready for sorting. My title, if it can be called that, is Quarterly Report Collator. This impressive moniker meant that I had the ability—no, make that the responsibility—to place various documents and reports in their proper order, usually alphabetically. I’ve even been known to utilize ascending numbers when the occasion warrants, a feat those who got paid far more than I did could not seem to manage. As long as they kept paying me, I was fine with my place on the food chain, low though it was. It sure beat the alternative--a luxurious but caged life as a sellout government shill, performing spells on command as if they were parlor tricks. My family might have lost much, but we still have some pride left.
I dove right into the heap of reports, for once appreciating the mindless work since it gave me the mental space to dwell on my dream lover. Why would a man in my dream claim that I’d summoned him? And what was with his getup? Micah had looked like he should be playing the part of a swashbuckling hero in a trashy romance novel, not hanging around in the parking lot of a midsized corporation specializing in commercial real estate acquisitions and liquidations.
And his name: Micah. I was certain that I’d never heard it before, which puzzled me. If I were going to create a dream lover, wouldn’t I give him a regular name like Tom or Joe? A name I was at least familiar with?
I swiveled in my chair and called up my search engine. We are not, under any circumstances, supposed to use this bit of technology that is standard issue with each and every one of our ergonomically correct workstations. I’m not quite sure what the punishment for internet usage is, but I’ve always imagined ninjas dropping out of the ceiling and hauling me off to their lair. After enduring a mild torture session, I’m given a cup of hot sake and sent on my way.
I could have waited until I got home. I had a nicer computer and better, faster internet access than the office does, but I couldn’t wait. Not while the image of Micah’s thundercloud eyes still burned in my memory, inciting not-safe-for-work thoughts.
I typed in Micah: define, and the results page immediately listed a bunch of Biblical references. Mmm, not exactly helpful. I clicked around for a while until I found one of those sites that specialized in the meaning of names. It read thusly:
Micah ( mī ‘ kə ) he who resembles God.
Huh. My dream man was certainly attractive, but I didn’t know if I’d go so far as to call him a god. Then I remembered that there was a type of stone called mica, which also seemed like an unlikely source for me to pull a name from. In the midst of typing
mica: stone, I was interrupted.
"Hey, beautiful." I glanced up and saw Floyd, the office sleaze, hovering at the edge of my cubicle. Better and better. I clicked off the browser and nonchalantly swiveled away from the keyboard. To throw the ninjas off my trail, of course. "You and Juliana heading over to The Room tonight?" he asked. The Room is a local hangout, stocked with stale beer and watered-down liquor, not to mention a floor that has never, ever been mopped. Not. Even. Once. But it’s cheap and close to the office, so we all go. Since I started working at REES, I’ve been a regular. "We haven’t discussed it."
"Everyone’s going," Floyd pressed. "C’mon, I’ll buy you a drink. You like gin and tonic, right?"
I heaved the stack of reports from my lap to my desk and uncrossed my legs, squarely planting my feet in order to deliver the Keep Away From Me speech to Floyd yet again, when I remembered my lack of undergarments. Quickly, I snatched my afghan fromwhere I’d tossed it before lunch and spread it across my lower body like a shield. "Whatever," I mumbled, which Floyd counted as a victory.
"See you there," he drawled. I hate him.
I spent the rest of my shift with my thighs clamped together, having mild anxiety attacks whenever I stood. Or sat. Or reached for anything. Needless to say, by the end of the day I was more than ready for something eye-wateringly alcoholic. Juliana, my best friend and REES’s office manager, was game, as she usually was, and we made it to The Room in time for happy hour. Normally, I feel like I’m in her shadow, what with her long, dark hair, matching eyes, and the body of a pre-war pinup girl, but tonight I didn’t care. Right about now, a little overshadowing was just what the doctor ordered.
After a few bowls of pretzels, and more than a few cocktails, I confessed my al fresco state, to which Juliana and I clinked glasses and downed a few shots in honor of my missing panties. Floyd, the scum, welshed on his promise of gin and tonic. I really do hate him.
My phone screamed for attention, thus ending the best dream that had ever been dreamed. Ever. I fumbled to silence it, then shook myself back to reality. I still felt warm and glowy from the dream, almost after-glowy. It wasn’t until I stretched and got tangled in my clothing that I noticed anything was amiss. The straps of my dress had slid down around my elbows, and the dress itself was unbuttoned to my waist. What’s more, my bra was all askew and a nipple was dangerously close to freedom. I shot a quick glance around the parking lot as I fixed my clothing; luckily, there was no one around, either of the human or robotic drone persuasion. I hoped no one had gotten an eyeful of how I was apparently fondling myself in my sleep. Some dream. Soon enough, I got the top half of my dress squared away and reached into the passenger seat, only to come up empty. My panties were gone.
Great. Either one of my coworkers had found me sleeping and stolen them, or a randy squirrel had absconded with my delicates. Hoping for the latter, I stuffed my feet back into my sandals and returned to the office and my ever-growing mountain of paperwork.Speaking of the mountain, there was a fresh sheaf of reports on my desk, ready for sorting. My title, if it can be called that, is Quarterly Report Collator. This impressive moniker meant that I had the ability—no, make that the responsibility—to place various documents and reports in their proper order, usually alphabetically. I’ve even been known to utilize ascending numbers when the occasion warrants, a feat those who got paid far more than I did could not seem to manage. As long as they kept paying me, I was fine with my place on the food chain, low though it was. It sure beat the alternative--a luxurious but caged life as a sellout government shill, performing spells on command as if they were parlor tricks. My family might have lost much, but we still have some pride left.
I dove right into the heap of reports, for once appreciating the mindless work since it gave me the mental space to dwell on my dream lover. Why would a man in my dream claim that I’d summoned him? And what was with his getup? Micah had looked like he should be playing the part of a swashbuckling hero in a trashy romance novel, not hanging around in the parking lot of a midsized corporation specializing in commercial real estate acquisitions and liquidations.
And his name: Micah. I was certain that I’d never heard it before, which puzzled me. If I were going to create a dream lover, wouldn’t I give him a regular name like Tom or Joe? A name I was at least familiar with?
I swiveled in my chair and called up my search engine. We are not, under any circumstances, supposed to use this bit of technology that is standard issue with each and every one of our ergonomically correct workstations. I’m not quite sure what the punishment for internet usage is, but I’ve always imagined ninjas dropping out of the ceiling and hauling me off to their lair. After enduring a mild torture session, I’m given a cup of hot sake and sent on my way.
I could have waited until I got home. I had a nicer computer and better, faster internet access than the office does, but I couldn’t wait. Not while the image of Micah’s thundercloud eyes still burned in my memory, inciting not-safe-for-work thoughts.
I typed in Micah: define, and the results page immediately listed a bunch of Biblical references. Mmm, not exactly helpful. I clicked around for a while until I found one of those sites that specialized in the meaning of names. It read thusly:
Micah ( mī ‘ kə ) he who resembles God.
Huh. My dream man was certainly attractive, but I didn’t know if I’d go so far as to call him a god. Then I remembered that there was a type of stone called mica, which also seemed like an unlikely source for me to pull a name from. In the midst of typing
mica: stone, I was interrupted.
"Hey, beautiful." I glanced up and saw Floyd, the office sleaze, hovering at the edge of my cubicle. Better and better. I clicked off the browser and nonchalantly swiveled away from the keyboard. To throw the ninjas off my trail, of course. "You and Juliana heading over to The Room tonight?" he asked. The Room is a local hangout, stocked with stale beer and watered-down liquor, not to mention a floor that has never, ever been mopped. Not. Even. Once. But it’s cheap and close to the office, so we all go. Since I started working at REES, I’ve been a regular. "We haven’t discussed it."
"Everyone’s going," Floyd pressed. "C’mon, I’ll buy you a drink. You like gin and tonic, right?"
I heaved the stack of reports from my lap to my desk and uncrossed my legs, squarely planting my feet in order to deliver the Keep Away From Me speech to Floyd yet again, when I remembered my lack of undergarments. Quickly, I snatched my afghan fromwhere I’d tossed it before lunch and spread it across my lower body like a shield. "Whatever," I mumbled, which Floyd counted as a victory.
"See you there," he drawled. I hate him.
I spent the rest of my shift with my thighs clamped together, having mild anxiety attacks whenever I stood. Or sat. Or reached for anything. Needless to say, by the end of the day I was more than ready for something eye-wateringly alcoholic. Juliana, my best friend and REES’s office manager, was game, as she usually was, and we made it to The Room in time for happy hour. Normally, I feel like I’m in her shadow, what with her long, dark hair, matching eyes, and the body of a pre-war pinup girl, but tonight I didn’t care. Right about now, a little overshadowing was just what the doctor ordered.
After a few bowls of pretzels, and more than a few cocktails, I confessed my al fresco state, to which Juliana and I clinked glasses and downed a few shots in honor of my missing panties. Floyd, the scum, welshed on his promise of gin and tonic. I really do hate him.
June 5, 2013
Guest Posts, Reviews, and BEA!
I've been busy lately, what with promoting my upcoming release, Copper Girl, the release of an anthology I have a story in, Holiday Magick, and attending the amazing madness that is Book Expo America, or BEA. Here's a recap:
I stopped b Vonnie Winslow Crist's blog, and talked about how writers need to get out there in the world, here.
The Writer's Voice interviewed me about my Holiday Magick story, Paper Hearts, here.
The lovely and talented Kayleigh-Marie Gore put up a Spensations Spotlight on Copper Girl! Check it out here.
And, you can always find me at Scene 13.
Now, about BEA... here's an abbreviated list of the awesome:
We had a Copper Girl book signing!
I got to hang out with my Spencer Hill Press and Scene 13 families, and a host of bloggers, booksellers and librarians!
There was amazing food! (No pictures of that - because I ate it all)
And, ARCs galore!
Come back tomorrow, when I'll post another teaser from Copper Girl. meanwhile, I better start reading.
May 24, 2013
COPPER GIRL teaser - Chapter One
COPPER GIRL, Book #1 of the COPPER LEGACY, releases one month from tomorrow.
Eek!
To whet your appetities, here's the first half of Chapter One. Look for more teasers soon!
And, if you'd like to enter to win an ARC of COPPER GIRL, click here.
CHAPTER ONE
It seemed like a good idea at the time.
My office, like most modern offices, cranked the air conditioning down to Arctic proportions during the summer months. Consequently, we workers arrived in the morning dressed in sandals and sleeveless tops, donned heavy sweaters upon reaching our desks, and ended up shivering by noon. Ironically, when our workday ended we were hit by a wall of oppressive heat the moment we stepped outside the main doors. No, this wasn’t a flawed system in the slightest.
That day, I wasn’t having it. I had the grand idea of spending my lunch hour outside, away from the icy wind stiffening my fingers and chilling my neck. After I unwound myself from the afghan I kept in my desk (and only used in the summer months), I gathered up my lunch and my phone and headed out for an impromptu picnic in my car.
What I hadn’t considered was that the office runs the air conditioning so cold because it was, well, hot outside. Very hot, in fact. So hot that the cheese was melting in my sandwich and the lettuce looked like something that had washed ashore months, maybe even years, ago. I was parked in the shade and had taken down my car’s convertible top, but I still couldn’t manage to get comfortable. I’d already shed my sandals and cardigan, which left me wearing my sundress and…
Dare I?
I glanced around the parking lot of Real Estate Evaluation Services, the ‘go-to firm for all your commercial real estate needs’, according to the brochures. No one, human or drone, was taking a noontime stroll, and, by virtue of my being on the far side of the lot, no cars were near mine. Most of my coworkers didn’t even have cars, so the lot was rarely more than half-full. What was more, from where I sat, I couldn’t even see the office.
I dared.
I took a deep breath and channeled my inner wild woman, then leaned the seat back and slipped off my panties. Removing that small bit of cotton made an incredible difference, and the heat became somewhat bearable. Enjoyable, even. Was that a breeze?
Ignoring my decrepit sandwich, I fully reclined the seat, set the alarm on my phone, and closed my eyes. A nap. Now that would make today bearable.
***
Suddenly, he is there.
Here.
Kissing me, holding me.
I know I'm dreaming, because he's perfect. His lips are soft but insistent, his hands gentle. I glide my fingers across his back, feeling thick cords of muscle, before sinking my fingers into his hair. It’s superfine, like cobwebs, and when I crack an eyelid, I learn that it’s silver. Not gray or white, but the elegant hue of antique candlesticks and fine flatware. Cool.
I squeeze my eyes shut again, not wanting the dream to end any sooner than it has to. He kisses me once more, and I can’t help melting against him. His hand travels up my leg, up past my hip… shit! No panties!
I try twisting away, but he already knows. I feel his mouth stretch into a smile, and he moves to nuzzle my neck. "What’s your name?" he murmurs.
"Sara," I reply. "Yours?"
"Micah." By now, his hands have traveled to my waist, and he slides one around to stroke the small of my back. "Why did you summon me, Sara?"
"I didn’t," I protest. "I don’t know how." I would say more, but he nibbles a trail from my neck to my shoulder, and pushes my dress to the side. As for me, I let him.
Micah raises his head, and I get a good look at him for the first time. His eyes are large and dark gray, like thunderheads, his features chiseled into warm caramel skin, and his unruly mop of silver hair seems to float around his head. He wears an odd, buff-colored leather shirt, made all the odder in this heat, and matching leather pants and boots. Boots?
"You did summon me," he insists. "My Sara, you must tell me why."
"Does it matter?" I ask. I pull him back to me, kissing him with all the passion I’ve never felt with anyone during my waking hours. Micah kisses me back, fingers deftly unbuttoning my dress while his other hand rubs my lower back. I’ve never felt so free, so alive as I do in Micah’s embrace, and I have no intention of rushing this. None at all.
Eek!
To whet your appetities, here's the first half of Chapter One. Look for more teasers soon!
And, if you'd like to enter to win an ARC of COPPER GIRL, click here.
CHAPTER ONE
It seemed like a good idea at the time.
My office, like most modern offices, cranked the air conditioning down to Arctic proportions during the summer months. Consequently, we workers arrived in the morning dressed in sandals and sleeveless tops, donned heavy sweaters upon reaching our desks, and ended up shivering by noon. Ironically, when our workday ended we were hit by a wall of oppressive heat the moment we stepped outside the main doors. No, this wasn’t a flawed system in the slightest.
That day, I wasn’t having it. I had the grand idea of spending my lunch hour outside, away from the icy wind stiffening my fingers and chilling my neck. After I unwound myself from the afghan I kept in my desk (and only used in the summer months), I gathered up my lunch and my phone and headed out for an impromptu picnic in my car.
What I hadn’t considered was that the office runs the air conditioning so cold because it was, well, hot outside. Very hot, in fact. So hot that the cheese was melting in my sandwich and the lettuce looked like something that had washed ashore months, maybe even years, ago. I was parked in the shade and had taken down my car’s convertible top, but I still couldn’t manage to get comfortable. I’d already shed my sandals and cardigan, which left me wearing my sundress and…
Dare I?
I glanced around the parking lot of Real Estate Evaluation Services, the ‘go-to firm for all your commercial real estate needs’, according to the brochures. No one, human or drone, was taking a noontime stroll, and, by virtue of my being on the far side of the lot, no cars were near mine. Most of my coworkers didn’t even have cars, so the lot was rarely more than half-full. What was more, from where I sat, I couldn’t even see the office.
I dared.
I took a deep breath and channeled my inner wild woman, then leaned the seat back and slipped off my panties. Removing that small bit of cotton made an incredible difference, and the heat became somewhat bearable. Enjoyable, even. Was that a breeze?
Ignoring my decrepit sandwich, I fully reclined the seat, set the alarm on my phone, and closed my eyes. A nap. Now that would make today bearable.
***
Suddenly, he is there.
Here.
Kissing me, holding me.
I know I'm dreaming, because he's perfect. His lips are soft but insistent, his hands gentle. I glide my fingers across his back, feeling thick cords of muscle, before sinking my fingers into his hair. It’s superfine, like cobwebs, and when I crack an eyelid, I learn that it’s silver. Not gray or white, but the elegant hue of antique candlesticks and fine flatware. Cool.
I squeeze my eyes shut again, not wanting the dream to end any sooner than it has to. He kisses me once more, and I can’t help melting against him. His hand travels up my leg, up past my hip… shit! No panties!
I try twisting away, but he already knows. I feel his mouth stretch into a smile, and he moves to nuzzle my neck. "What’s your name?" he murmurs.
"Sara," I reply. "Yours?"
"Micah." By now, his hands have traveled to my waist, and he slides one around to stroke the small of my back. "Why did you summon me, Sara?"
"I didn’t," I protest. "I don’t know how." I would say more, but he nibbles a trail from my neck to my shoulder, and pushes my dress to the side. As for me, I let him.
Micah raises his head, and I get a good look at him for the first time. His eyes are large and dark gray, like thunderheads, his features chiseled into warm caramel skin, and his unruly mop of silver hair seems to float around his head. He wears an odd, buff-colored leather shirt, made all the odder in this heat, and matching leather pants and boots. Boots?
"You did summon me," he insists. "My Sara, you must tell me why."
"Does it matter?" I ask. I pull him back to me, kissing him with all the passion I’ve never felt with anyone during my waking hours. Micah kisses me back, fingers deftly unbuttoning my dress while his other hand rubs my lower back. I’ve never felt so free, so alive as I do in Micah’s embrace, and I have no intention of rushing this. None at all.
May 14, 2013
Cover Reveal - 400LB GORILLA by DC FARMER
Today we have the cover reveal of 400LB GORILLA by DC FARMER. It releases in February 2014 from Spence City.Here's the back cover blurb:"Matt Danmor thinks he’s lucky. Not many people survive a near death accident with nothing more than a bout of amnesia, a touch of clumsiness and the conviction that the technician who did the MRI had grey skin and hooves.Still, it takes time to recover from trauma like that, especially when the girl who was in the accident with you disappears into thin air. Especially when the shrinks keep telling you she’s just a figment of your imagination.So when the girl turns up months later looking ravishing, and wanting to carry on where they left off, Matt’s troubled life starts looking up. But he hasn’t bargained for the baggage that comes with Silvy, like the fact she isn’t really an English language student, or even a girl.Underneath her traffic stopping exterior is something else altogether, something involving raving fanatics bent on human sacrifice, dimensionally challenged baked bean tins, a vulture with a penchant for profanity, and a security agent for the Dept of Fimmigration (that’s Fae immigration for those of you not in the know) called Kylah with the most amazing gold-flecked eyes…The 400 Lb Gorilla is caustic, (vampire-free) introduction to the Hipposync Archives: Contemporary fantasy at its sparkling best."
April 17, 2013
Where the Magic Begins by Vonnie Winslow Crist
Hey all! Today we have a guest post by Vonnie Winslow Crist. Her epic fantasy novel, The Enchanted Skean – Book I of the Chronicles of Lifthrasir, is available now.
Where the Magic Begins
By Vonnie Winslow Crist
As I sit with J.R.R. Tolkien's The Hobbitopen on my lap, I'm thankful for the wonderful speculative fiction that I read as a child. It was those books from long ago that stirred my imagination and inspired me to write stories like my new epic fantasy novel, The Enchanted Skean – Book I of the Chronicles of Lifthrasir.
I still have a stack of 10-page fairytale booklets published by The Platt & Munk Co., Inc. in the early 1930s given to me one at a time for “something to look at” when my parents visited with an elderly friend on the other side of Baltimore.
Before I entered kindergarten, I'd taught myself to read during those visits using Cinderella, Chicken Little, Dick Whittington, Jack and the Beanstalk, and Tom Thumb. And who knows, maybe the seed for the precocious cats in The Enchanted Skean formed as I read Platt & Munk's Puss in Boots.
Three of my favorite books when I was a second grader were Ruth Stiles Gannett's My Father's Dragon series. In her tales, right under the noses of people in the “real world” lived a family of blue and yellow dragons. I had such vivid memories of the beautifully-colored dragons, I didn't realize until I bought a copy of the books years later as an adult that the pictures were rendered in pencil. The stunning hues of the dragon family had been imagined by me. And dragons remain one of my favorite things to draw and write about, so I put a blue dragon in The Enchanted Skean.
Perhaps the most serendipitous introduction I had as a preteen student to the world of magic and folklore came from the librarian at Perry Hall Elementary. In the fifth grade, I'd rush through my regular classwork, and then, ask to go to the library to help put books back on the shelves. By the end of the year, not only did I know the Dewey Decimal System quite well, but the librarian gifted me with 3 slightly damaged books.
The first gift book was Lupe de Osma's The Witches' Ride and Other Tales from Costa Rica. I was immediately infatuated with the ghosts, witches, fairies, and other magical beings written about in that book. The beginnings of the wisewomen and owl sprite in The Enchanted Skean? The second gift book was about prehistoric creatures that never existed. Among the critters written about were merfolk. The beginnings of the sea-hags in The Enchanted Skean?
Writers tend to write about what they know. What I've known since toddlerhood were fairy tales, folktales, myths, legends, and magical creatures introduced to me by books. Still an avid reader, I gravitate to work by Neil Gaiman, J.R.R. Tolkien, and Charles de Lint. It's the fantastical and sometimes dark worlds created by these writers that draw me in. And as a writer, I strive to create my own darkly magical worlds for my readers to enjoy.
For a taste of the world of The Enchanted Skean, here's the link to a 3-chapter excerpt: http://vonniewinslowcrist.com/books/the_enchanted_skean_excerpt and a link to the novel's book trailer: You can find The Enchanted Skean and other books by Vonnie Winslow Crist on Amazon: http://tinyurl.com/Vonnie-Winslow-Crist-Amazon and elsewhere.
Born in the Year of the Dragon, Vonnie Winslow Crist has had a life-long interest in reading, writing, myths, folklore, fairy tales, legends, and art. A firm believer that the world around us is filled with miracles, mystery, and magic, Vonnie still sees fairies amidst the trees, mermaids on jetties, and ghosts and goblins of all sorts in the shadows. Visit her website: http://vonniewinslowcrist.com and blog: http://vonniewinslowcrist.wordpress.com Become her friend and fan on Facebook: http://facebook.com/WriterVonnieWinslowCrist and Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/vonnie_winslow_crist And follow her tweets: http://twitter.com/VonnieWCrist
Where the Magic Begins
By Vonnie Winslow Crist
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As I sit with J.R.R. Tolkien's The Hobbitopen on my lap, I'm thankful for the wonderful speculative fiction that I read as a child. It was those books from long ago that stirred my imagination and inspired me to write stories like my new epic fantasy novel, The Enchanted Skean – Book I of the Chronicles of Lifthrasir.
I still have a stack of 10-page fairytale booklets published by The Platt & Munk Co., Inc. in the early 1930s given to me one at a time for “something to look at” when my parents visited with an elderly friend on the other side of Baltimore.
Before I entered kindergarten, I'd taught myself to read during those visits using Cinderella, Chicken Little, Dick Whittington, Jack and the Beanstalk, and Tom Thumb. And who knows, maybe the seed for the precocious cats in The Enchanted Skean formed as I read Platt & Munk's Puss in Boots.
Three of my favorite books when I was a second grader were Ruth Stiles Gannett's My Father's Dragon series. In her tales, right under the noses of people in the “real world” lived a family of blue and yellow dragons. I had such vivid memories of the beautifully-colored dragons, I didn't realize until I bought a copy of the books years later as an adult that the pictures were rendered in pencil. The stunning hues of the dragon family had been imagined by me. And dragons remain one of my favorite things to draw and write about, so I put a blue dragon in The Enchanted Skean.
Perhaps the most serendipitous introduction I had as a preteen student to the world of magic and folklore came from the librarian at Perry Hall Elementary. In the fifth grade, I'd rush through my regular classwork, and then, ask to go to the library to help put books back on the shelves. By the end of the year, not only did I know the Dewey Decimal System quite well, but the librarian gifted me with 3 slightly damaged books.
The first gift book was Lupe de Osma's The Witches' Ride and Other Tales from Costa Rica. I was immediately infatuated with the ghosts, witches, fairies, and other magical beings written about in that book. The beginnings of the wisewomen and owl sprite in The Enchanted Skean? The second gift book was about prehistoric creatures that never existed. Among the critters written about were merfolk. The beginnings of the sea-hags in The Enchanted Skean?
Writers tend to write about what they know. What I've known since toddlerhood were fairy tales, folktales, myths, legends, and magical creatures introduced to me by books. Still an avid reader, I gravitate to work by Neil Gaiman, J.R.R. Tolkien, and Charles de Lint. It's the fantastical and sometimes dark worlds created by these writers that draw me in. And as a writer, I strive to create my own darkly magical worlds for my readers to enjoy.
.jpg)
For a taste of the world of The Enchanted Skean, here's the link to a 3-chapter excerpt: http://vonniewinslowcrist.com/books/the_enchanted_skean_excerpt and a link to the novel's book trailer: You can find The Enchanted Skean and other books by Vonnie Winslow Crist on Amazon: http://tinyurl.com/Vonnie-Winslow-Crist-Amazon and elsewhere.
Born in the Year of the Dragon, Vonnie Winslow Crist has had a life-long interest in reading, writing, myths, folklore, fairy tales, legends, and art. A firm believer that the world around us is filled with miracles, mystery, and magic, Vonnie still sees fairies amidst the trees, mermaids on jetties, and ghosts and goblins of all sorts in the shadows. Visit her website: http://vonniewinslowcrist.com and blog: http://vonniewinslowcrist.wordpress.com Become her friend and fan on Facebook: http://facebook.com/WriterVonnieWinslowCrist and Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/vonnie_winslow_crist And follow her tweets: http://twitter.com/VonnieWCrist
April 4, 2013
Cover reveal - BLOOD FOR THE SUN
Most cover reveal posts put the cover at the end. However, the artwork for Errick Nunnally's BLOOD FOR THE SUN is so amazingly badass I'm putting it up front where it belongs.
Yep, it's awesome, and it will be available March 2014 from Spence City. Here's the jacket copy: After more than one-hundred and forty years, Alexander Smith is suffering from memory loss that plagues him like a supernatural Alzheimer’s. He has lasted longer than most by clinging to the love he has for his adopted daughter, the vampire Ana, and puzzling out cases of missing or murdered children. Without them, he wouldn’t be able to ignore the ghost of a child from his guilty past or fight the whispers goading him to kill. On his latest job, he’s stumbled upon a vampire conspiracy that has left a trail of child murders up and down the East Coast—a conspiracy that promises inoculation against the sun. If true, the conspirators’ success would mean a bloody conflict, altering the balance between humans and the supernatural forever. Losing more of his mind every day, Alexander has two impossible tasks ahead of him if the world is to survive: stop the vampire coven and reconnect with his humanity. And, here is Errick's bio: Born and raised in Boston, Massachusetts, Errick A. Nunnally served one tour in the Marine Corps before deciding art school would be a safer—and more natural—profession. He always strives to develop his strengths in storytelling and remains permanently distracted by art, comics, science fiction, history, and horror. Trained as a graphic designer, he studies Krav Maga and Muay Thai kickboxing in his spare time. Errick’s successes include: the upcoming publication of his book, Blood For The Sun; a comic strip collection, Lost in Transition; first prize in one hamburger contest; the short story Who Bears The Lathe? in eFiction’s inaugural SciFi issue; the sci-fi short, Legion, in the anthology Doorways to Extra Time; two lovely children; and one beautiful wife.
Yep, it's awesome, and it will be available March 2014 from Spence City. Here's the jacket copy: After more than one-hundred and forty years, Alexander Smith is suffering from memory loss that plagues him like a supernatural Alzheimer’s. He has lasted longer than most by clinging to the love he has for his adopted daughter, the vampire Ana, and puzzling out cases of missing or murdered children. Without them, he wouldn’t be able to ignore the ghost of a child from his guilty past or fight the whispers goading him to kill. On his latest job, he’s stumbled upon a vampire conspiracy that has left a trail of child murders up and down the East Coast—a conspiracy that promises inoculation against the sun. If true, the conspirators’ success would mean a bloody conflict, altering the balance between humans and the supernatural forever. Losing more of his mind every day, Alexander has two impossible tasks ahead of him if the world is to survive: stop the vampire coven and reconnect with his humanity. And, here is Errick's bio: Born and raised in Boston, Massachusetts, Errick A. Nunnally served one tour in the Marine Corps before deciding art school would be a safer—and more natural—profession. He always strives to develop his strengths in storytelling and remains permanently distracted by art, comics, science fiction, history, and horror. Trained as a graphic designer, he studies Krav Maga and Muay Thai kickboxing in his spare time. Errick’s successes include: the upcoming publication of his book, Blood For The Sun; a comic strip collection, Lost in Transition; first prize in one hamburger contest; the short story Who Bears The Lathe? in eFiction’s inaugural SciFi issue; the sci-fi short, Legion, in the anthology Doorways to Extra Time; two lovely children; and one beautiful wife.
March 22, 2013
Cover Reveal - DEATH AND MR. RIGHT
Welcome to the cover reveal for DEATH AND MR. RIGHT, a quirky, fun urban fantasy by the lovely and talented Kendra L Saunders. Here's the jacket copy:
It is March 32nd, the day that doesn’t exist, and Death, the agent of nightmares, has been demoted and exiled to live among mortals for the rest of his unnaturally long life. Everyone knows They don’t look lightly on important items getting lost or an agent falling in love.
Can the diva-like Death navigate the modern world, recover what was stolen from him (the names of the damned… ooops!) and get his job back? Or will he fall in love with Lola, the pretty thief who got him into trouble in the first place? 978-1-939392-04-6DEATH AND MR. RIGHT will be available October 2013.
Kendra's bio:
Kendra L. Saunders is the author of the magic realism novel Inanimate Objects and the dark comedy Death and Mr. Right. She has been published in Snakeskin Magazine, Premier Bride Magazine and has conducted interviews for Steampunk Magazine, The New England Horror Writers and ipmnation.com. She reports regularly for Pure Textuality and writes helpful writing articles for NerdCaliber’s Pages of Note.
In 2012, Kendra attended a number of sci-fi/anime/steampunk conventions, notably Arisia, Anime Boson, Watch City Festival, ConnectiCon and TeslaCon. She is the creator of the popular “Five Headed Muse” panel, which features fun and witty wisdom from the five aspects of a writer’s life: character building, inspiration, writing habits, publishing and marketing, as well as the “What We Can Learn from Fan Fiction” panel which takes a detailed look at the upsides to reading and writing fanfiction. Kendra was also featured as a guest on other panels throughout 2012 and has been noted for her energy and enthusiastic approach to writing education.
Originally from Texas, Kendra has lived in New Hampshire, Idaho and Wisconsin and has traveled through most of the 50 states. Somewhere along the way she developed a love for discovering the quiet magic in new places, and she seeks to expose it in her novels, short stories and poetry. She also has a lifelong passion for black and white photography and shares photographs from her travels and adventures through her website, facebook, tumblr and twitter.
Kendra is host of the quirky literary podcast, 13 1/2 Minutes and has been a featured guest and co-host on various radio and podcast shows.
In her spare time Kendra likes to daydream about (foreign) boys with dark hair, drink too much tea, read fashion magazines, listen to records on vinyl, plan her dream trip to England and attempt to travel back in time to the Jazz Age. Find her online at www.kendralsaunders.com on twitter at @kendrybird or on tumblr at http://www.inanimateobjects.tumblr.com
It is March 32nd, the day that doesn’t exist, and Death, the agent of nightmares, has been demoted and exiled to live among mortals for the rest of his unnaturally long life. Everyone knows They don’t look lightly on important items getting lost or an agent falling in love.
Can the diva-like Death navigate the modern world, recover what was stolen from him (the names of the damned… ooops!) and get his job back? Or will he fall in love with Lola, the pretty thief who got him into trouble in the first place? 978-1-939392-04-6DEATH AND MR. RIGHT will be available October 2013.
Kendra's bio:
Kendra L. Saunders is the author of the magic realism novel Inanimate Objects and the dark comedy Death and Mr. Right. She has been published in Snakeskin Magazine, Premier Bride Magazine and has conducted interviews for Steampunk Magazine, The New England Horror Writers and ipmnation.com. She reports regularly for Pure Textuality and writes helpful writing articles for NerdCaliber’s Pages of Note.
In 2012, Kendra attended a number of sci-fi/anime/steampunk conventions, notably Arisia, Anime Boson, Watch City Festival, ConnectiCon and TeslaCon. She is the creator of the popular “Five Headed Muse” panel, which features fun and witty wisdom from the five aspects of a writer’s life: character building, inspiration, writing habits, publishing and marketing, as well as the “What We Can Learn from Fan Fiction” panel which takes a detailed look at the upsides to reading and writing fanfiction. Kendra was also featured as a guest on other panels throughout 2012 and has been noted for her energy and enthusiastic approach to writing education.
Originally from Texas, Kendra has lived in New Hampshire, Idaho and Wisconsin and has traveled through most of the 50 states. Somewhere along the way she developed a love for discovering the quiet magic in new places, and she seeks to expose it in her novels, short stories and poetry. She also has a lifelong passion for black and white photography and shares photographs from her travels and adventures through her website, facebook, tumblr and twitter.
Kendra is host of the quirky literary podcast, 13 1/2 Minutes and has been a featured guest and co-host on various radio and podcast shows.
In her spare time Kendra likes to daydream about (foreign) boys with dark hair, drink too much tea, read fashion magazines, listen to records on vinyl, plan her dream trip to England and attempt to travel back in time to the Jazz Age. Find her online at www.kendralsaunders.com on twitter at @kendrybird or on tumblr at http://www.inanimateobjects.tumblr.com
March 11, 2013
Cover Reveal - THE BINDING STONE
Hey all! You know how I blog over at Scene 13, right? Well, here's the cover reveal for my lovely blogmate Lisa Gail Green's latest novel, THE BINDING STONE!
Here's the GoodReads link:
http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17303477-djinn
And, jacket copy: Tricked into slavery by the man she loved, the Djinni Leela has an eternity to regret her choices.Awakened in the prison of her adolescent body, she finds a new master in possession of the opal that binds her. But seventeen-year-old Jered is unlike any she’s seen. His kindness makes Leela yearn to trust again, to allow herself a glimmer of hope.Could Jered be strong enough to free her from the curse of the Binding Stone?
Beautiful, huh?
March 9, 2013
WIN A SIGNED ARC OF COPPER GIRL!
Want to win a signed ARC of COPPER GIRL before you can buy it? Of course you do!
The signed ARC in question
A caffeine-addled author and her ARC, photographic evidence that they do exist So, here's what you do: follow this link to the GoodReads giveaway, and enter, It's that easy! But wait, would you like two entries? Follow this link Copper Girl's FaceBook page, like it, and there's your second entry! And, since three was my grandmother's lucky number, here's how you can get a third entry: follow this blog! If you're already a follower, just leave a comment below, and you're in. Thanks for playing! Sara had always been careful. She never spoke of magic, never associated with those suspected of handling magic, never thought of magic, and never, ever, let anyone see her mark. After all, the last thing she wanted was to end up missing, like her father and brother. Then, a silver elf pushed his way into Sara's dream, and her life became anything but ordinary. COPPER GIRL, the first in the COPPER LEGACYAvailable in print and e-book June, 2013
ISBN: 978-1-939392-02-2 
The signed ARC in question
A caffeine-addled author and her ARC, photographic evidence that they do exist So, here's what you do: follow this link to the GoodReads giveaway, and enter, It's that easy! But wait, would you like two entries? Follow this link Copper Girl's FaceBook page, like it, and there's your second entry! And, since three was my grandmother's lucky number, here's how you can get a third entry: follow this blog! If you're already a follower, just leave a comment below, and you're in. Thanks for playing! Sara had always been careful. She never spoke of magic, never associated with those suspected of handling magic, never thought of magic, and never, ever, let anyone see her mark. After all, the last thing she wanted was to end up missing, like her father and brother. Then, a silver elf pushed his way into Sara's dream, and her life became anything but ordinary. COPPER GIRL, the first in the COPPER LEGACYAvailable in print and e-book June, 2013 ISBN: 978-1-939392-02-2
March 6, 2013
The Sweetest Thing Blogfest
It's super ironic that I'm writing this post, because I don't really like sweet things.
Candy? Never eat it. I'd rather eat raw green beans.
Soda? Can't stand it. Give me plain water. Even better, plain seltzer water.
I do, however, have a special place in my heart for Mozartkugeln. You can read all about them here.
I first tried them while on vacation in Austria; one bite, and I was hooked. They are these perfect little round bits of happiness, made up of pistachio marzipan, hazlenut nougat, milk and dark chocolate. I know. Fricken heavenly.
And, since we've got a bunch of sweet romance writers on this blog hop, I'll share an absolutely, 100% true sweet romance story. One day, I came home from work to find that my husband had bought me a navy blue beaded chiffon dress, the sort of dress you'd wear to a formal wedding. He bought it because he thought it would look nice with my hair.
Then, he presented me with an opal and sapphire ring, because it matched the dress!
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Really. With sweetness like that in my life, who needs candy?
Now, remember to hop on back to Kelly and Beth and visit the rest of the sweeties!
Want to win a copy of my upcoming urban fantasy, COPPER GIRL, before you can buy it? Follow this link to enter the giveaway!
