Hailey Edwards's Blog, page 79

Six Sentence Sunday

By request, this week's six picks up where I left off last week. Oh, and the hero isn't a vampire. He's something I've never seen featured as a hero in a romance novel.

His fangs grazed my throat before he bit down, and my skin punctured on a crisp pop. I cried out as my eyes watered. This was no gentle claiming. This hurt. Rhys's venom was fire in my veins, his poison a brand that threatened to render me to soot beneath his savaging mouth.

When at last he withdrew, he pressed a chaste kiss to my stinging neck. 

For more Six Sunday fun, check out the official website here.

Charlotte

If you've come to this blog looking for Hailey, I'm afraid I've got some grave news. I kidnapped her last night.

But I swear, it wasn't my fault! She was just too orsum and funny and cool and talented for me to stand another second without her. I had to have her for my Collection of Orsum People (the one I keep, under the stairs).

And the truth is, I know she'll be happy, amongst such illustrious company as Michael Fassbender, Tyrion from Game of Thrones, and the person who invented jellybeans. And even if she's not, well, I'll just tell her the zombie apocalypse is upon us and she's far better off in the secret land beneath my stairs.

There are almost no zombies in this magical and mystical place. But there are many, many zombies up here. I'm not even lying about that! I even wrote a book about the zombie apocalypse, look! Here's the blurb for it:

[image error]June has spent the last two years of her life trying to avoid death at the hands of murderous psychopaths and ravening zombies. So when Jamie turns up on the scene, careless, still whole and promising her safety on a little paradise island, she isn't quite sure she can trust him. Especially when he tells her that it's just him, and his equally big, burly, handsome friend Blake.

But Jamie and Blake are even better than her wildest dreams—sweet and funny and charming. And worst of all: sexy as hell. Though they're trying to be gentlemanly with her, all she can think about is how much she wants to get tangled up in them, and forget the nightmare the world has become. She's waiting for her reawakening—back to life and happiness and love.

And they seem like just the right sort of men to wake her—body and soul.

And an excerpt, to doubly, nay triply prove it:

All June could think was—Kelsey is dead, Kelsey is dead, Kelsey is dead—while the image of the ravening hordes feasting on Kelsey's body played behind her eyes. She tried to shut it off, keep it down, keep running before they got to her, but Kelsey's blood was still wet and all over her right arm.

And if Jamie hadn't shot Kelsey—right as she was still screaming, and begging for help—she'd be one of them, now. That's what happened. Once they bit you or bled on you or hell, spat on you, you had maybe thirty seconds.

Before you turned.

She needed to stop, just stop for a second. Lean against something and catch her breath. But Jamie had somehow led them into this building and he just kept running and running—only up instead of out.

June didn't even know if Jamie was really his name, or if he was leading them right into a dead end. But he kept going, none-the-less.

She could hear the hordes, busting through the door below. He'd barred it, but they were coming in anyway, to this place that was an almost total deathtrap. The staircase was narrow and blanketed in darkness, one winding section after the next. Even if she dared to pause and look over the railing, she wouldn't be able to see them until they were almost on her.

"Jamie, wait!" she shouted, but not because things would be easier if he had hold of her hand or was there to comfort her in this dire hour of need. She'd made it this far, on her own.

Or at least, she'd made it this far, with Kelsey.

No, it was just that—if he kept going, eventually they'd be trapped, on the roof. And she couldn't have that. That was one of her and Kelsey's rules—don't run to someplace with only one exit.

Only it was just her rule, now. This guy, this Jamie…he didn't seem to have any rules. He'd decided to run to the roof of a twenty story building then potentially wait outside until the hordes pushed through a probably very flimsy fire door.

Kelsey had said to her. She had said—wait. He's as crazy as they are. A safe island? He's nuts. We can't go with him. He's probably an insane apocalypse rapist.

And she'd been right, God help her. Maybe not about the insane apocalypse rapist part, but even so and besides—there was still time for that. He could be anyone, be into anything. He could have planned this all along…Kelsey's death, the run to the roof…hell, maybe he had a whole party of insane assholes up there, just waiting to do horrible things to her.

Even if that was as nuts as he now seemed. Why would he trap himself on the roof, just to have a little fun with her? Nothing in her head was functioning in quite the way it should. Connections had been lost. Wiring had come loose.

She still called out to him again, when they got to the level before the last one. Her voice came out hoarse and breathless, burning lungs making everything difficult, Kelsey in her mind making everything worse. But somehow the words emerged.

"Jamie, stop. Take the nineteenth floor exit, okay—we can go back down on the other side of the building—answer me, fuck!"

He did, then. She heard him call out over her own shrieking breaths, the pounding of her sneakers on stone, and the sounds of the once-were-people below, slathering and barking like animals.

There were two cracks, like he'd fired her gun into the stairwell. Though she couldn't see where he was shooting or at what. Then—

"Just keep following me, June-bug—come on!"

Only it sounded more like come own, because of the Texan twang Kelsey had sworn up and down was fake. And he'd called her June-bug again, because he was crazy, he was crazy, oh dear Lord he was probably leading them to their deaths.

This was all just some final mad hurrah. He was suicidal, and this was how he wanted to go out. Death by stairs or death by zombies—because they were zombies, no matter how much she tried to pretend otherwise—or even worse, death by roof.

Was that what he was going to do? Hurl himself off? Plummet to his untimely end? She didn't know. All she could really think about was how close the first ravening cannibal was getting, and how unfit she really was. She'd started believing all the cardio was really beginning to pay off, but as it turned out, eighteen flights of stairs and she was out for the count. Her heart clawed at her ribcage. Her thigh muscles screamed and screamed.

While her zombie pals kept coming and coming, as though the stairs were nothing, really. Why, leaping up eighteen flights was like a morning stroll to them! They could have climbed these stairs forever and still had the wherewithal to eat her innards, once they got their claw-like hands on her.

She hit the fire door to the roof just as one of said claw-like hands brushed the back of her shirt.

It made everything inside her leap, including the heart she'd thought had escaped. Whenever they got really close—that was when you realized just how terrible they were. How awful the world had become. How much it wasn't like a movie at all, but like a constant and unbearable pressure against your sanity, always threatening to make you go over.

She felt like going over, when the door wouldn't close on them. For a second of pushing and heaving with their hands coming through and all over her, her mind tried to fly away. It told her to start screaming uncontrollably, while clawing at herself—that doing so would really be her best bet. No more running constantly. No more pain over Kelsey—and before Kelsey, Joanne and Pat and the old lady whose name she never learned.

Just peace, finally. One moment of agony, then peace.

Only it wouldn't be, would it? No, it wouldn't be. If she stopped pushing at the door and jamming it at them and just God, let the door snap their arms, let it crush them, let it kill them all forever, if she stopped…they'd turn her into one of them. And no matter how much she tried to let it hurt her that Jamie had pointed the gun and shot Kelsey between the eyes, it didn't. It couldn't.

Being one of them was worse. After all, it could have been that they'd caught a disease. It might have been that they were infected with something—like in 28 Days Later, rather than Night of the Living Dead. But part of her wondered whenever she stared into their hollow, ink-black eyes, if they'd simply lost their souls.

He looked like it. The one who'd managed to squeeze his mottled face into the crack she was struggling to close in the door. He had no pupils, no irises, no whites to his eyes. It was all just blackness, empty and weirdly unseeing, as though they operated on no more than a bloodlust now. Like upright land sharks roaming the land, blindly searching out prey.

She wrenched the door from him for just an instant then smashed it back into his face. It was a risky move, but oh so worth it. Worth it for the satisfaction, worth it for Kelsey, worth it for everything these things had taken from everyone. People's souls hadn't left. These things had stolen them.

And when it slithered away and the door quite abruptly shut, the idea didn't go with it. It stayed, and festered—so much so that she wanted to open the door for one mad moment, just to smash it back in their faces again, and again, and again.

She wanted to, but Jamie was calling to her. And other sounds were starting to flood through her now, too, other big, big sounds that she should have noticed ages ago.

At first she thought it was some kind of weapon. That he'd found a chainsaw or a pneumatic drill or a wood chipper. Something he'd known was up here all along for them to use against the enemy.

But then the wind whipped up and she turned to see something far more incredible than a zombie eating wood chipper. It was so incredible that she forgot the zombies battering on the fire door, for a second. They'd bust through it soon enough because although they couldn't figure out handles, the sheer pressure of them would figure out the release bar.

Though it didn't seem to matter. For the first time in these two years of hell, it didn't matter. She found herself laughing out loud, high and probably hysterical.

Jamie had only gone and gotten himself a helicopter. And not only that, but he apparently knew how to fly a helicopter. The rotors were going. They were kicking up the fine gravel that lined the roof of whatever building this was, and he was yelling to her—

"Come on, June-bug, get your ass in here!"

She thought of him talking about the island. About his buddy who was waiting for them. How they'd just wanted to find survivors, and populate their safe haven, and how crazy that had sounded when he first started yakking about it.

Then she ran to him.

And if you liked the excerpt and are not too disturbed by my completely fake kidnapping of Hailey, you can buy it here:

http://www.resplendencepublishing.com...

I mean, I realise I should carry on the charade, here, and suggest you all buy my book to gain Hailey her freedom from Michael Fassbender, but let's be honest. If I were telling the truth, who on earth would want to be freed from Michael Fassbender??

 

For more information on Charlotte, visit her website. For more information on the Reawakening, check out her publisher's site.

 

BBB Meeting with Guest…um…Me?

I'm excited to announce that I've been invited to speak at the September meeting of the Birmingham Books and Babes (BBB) Book Club. I'll post reminders as the time draws nearer, but I also wanted to mention it so that travel arrangements can be made well in advance.

I was told by the coordinator there will be games and prizes, a Kindle among them, and lots of chatter. Sounds like a good time, right?

[image error]

If you'd like to join in, the meeting will be held on September 24 from  1-4pm at Dales Southern Grill. I'm excited to check them out. I've never been there, but the website has the cool, retro feel I love.

I also got some exciting news this morning. I may be one of the few guest speakers who brings their own guest speakers, but I think the more the merrier in this case. I'll be announcing my c0-guests? speaker speakies? on my website and blog soon.

For more information, you can check out my Facebook page or the page the BBB coordinator set up to keep track of things for those flying in or traveling long distances for the event.

Editors Wanted – Ellora's Cave

Fresh from Twitter for my editor friends:

Ellora's Cave

Oi! Looking for **experienced** freelance erotica content/copy editors (1 each)! Info: employment [at] ellorascave [dot] com

 

New Facebook Page

I finally bit the bullet and started an author page on Facebook last night.

What do you think? Pretty, huh?

 

It took me longer than I'd like to admit to figure out how to make that welcome/landing page work, but it's there now. The only thing is, depending on how you zoom in and out, the wording goes wonky. Not cool, but unavoidable. I'll have to tinker with it. There's also a cool Good Reads application wired into the page. You know how it goes–you get a new toy and you must play with it.

Speaking of which, if you see the page blink in and out or if it looks crazy for more than the span of a few hours, I can almost promise you I'm playing with it. I tend to tinker a lot. If you're here, reading this, then you've been to my website and you know these things.

Now for the most important question…will you like me? I hope so, whether you ever press the thumbs up button or not.

Six Sentence Sunday

Well, I think I've finally settled on a title for the WIP formally known as Araneae. The hero said something a few pages back that struck a chord with me. I think it fits the heroine, and the book. Baring complications down the line, I rather like it.

I steeled my spine, ready for punishment. I deserved no less than his worst for what I'd done.

His large palms landed with such force upon my shoulders, my knees buckled beneath the weight of them. Leaning in close, I trembled as anise on his breath filled me with his scent. Lips I knew to be soft were ice hard now. His voice lowered as he said, "This is going to hurt."

For more Six Sunday goodness, check out the official blog here.

 

 

The Beta by Annie Nicholas

As the pack's Beta, Robert needs to watch over the Vasi werewolf pack for a few days. He hates the responsibility, but his job is to dissolve any problems while his alpha honeymoons.

Nevertheless, trouble comes to town and her name is Esther. She's beguiling, beautiful and picks his pocket. Although Robert doesn't trust her, he still wants to possess her.

Esther arrived in Chicago with the intention of slaying a vampire named Daedalus. While trailing her quarry, she encounters Robert who unhinges her world. He doesn't know her trade, and she doesn't know his connection to the vampire.

Disturbed by her attraction to this unusual werewolf, she can't decide which prey to hunt. The one who's stolen her heart or the one who'll fill her bank account.

Hot graphic werewolf sex, growing body parts, and one pissed off Nosferatu.

For more information on Annie, visit her website.
To read an excerpt, click here . To purchase, click here .

Call for Submissions: SILVER SLIPPERS!

What are SILVER SLIPPERS?

SILVER SLIPPERS are erotic fantasies spun from the fairy tales we heard at our parents' knee .

Elves, goblins, Princes, Princesses, evil Kings and Queens, giants, gnomes, Fairy Godmothers…

Have your own spin on one of the Fairy Tale Classics?

A naughty stepsister trying to steal your prince?

A seamstress who has a one-night stand with a nameless stranger?

Perhaps a meddling Godmother who is determined to help you find a mate?

We're looking for tales that make you laugh, make you sigh, and best of all, make you hot!

As always, we ask that each story end with a HEA (Happily Ever After) or HFN (Happy For Now) but the key pieces being plot-driven, strong paranormal fantasy worlds built with hot, sexy romances.

All stories will be published as single titles under the SILVER SLIPPERS theme.

Ø Submissions are open to all authors currently published with Liquid Silver books and those wishing to be published with Liquid Silver Books.

Ø All works can be new material. Previously published works or works currently part of a series will not be considered.

Ø All submissions must be exclusive to Liquid Silver Books; if we decline your submission; you are free to submit elsewhere.

Submission requirements:

ü Full manuscript in Arial, 12pt saved as RTF.

ü Length: 15k – 80K

ü Genre: Paranormal Fantasy Erotic Romances featuring Fairy Tale themes specifically

Heat Level:

Ø Open to all our current heat levels – Sterling, Liquid and Molten. Please refer to our submission guidelines for further information.

Ø Deadline: September 1, 2011

To submit, please send manuscript via email to submissions@liquidsilverbooks.com with CALL FOR SUBMISSION: SILVER SLIPPERS in the subject line.

Include your author bio on the first page of your manuscript, attach the MS and a one page snapshot synopsis with your email.

I look forward to reading your submissions!

If you have any questions, please feel free to email me directly – tracey@liquidsilverbooks.com





*permission to forward*

Six Sentence Sunday

I'm at the halfway mark in this project. I hope I'll have it wrapped up by the end of May, but this is a busy month. I guess we'll see.

"If you touch her, I will kill you." He cupped Vaughn's chin, twisting hard to one side, his threat implicit. "What I am hasn't hindered my willingness to kill. Don't offer to her again."

Blinking twice in rapid succession, Vaughn submitted and Rhys released him. The exchange was so flawless I had to wonder how often similar conversations occurred between them.

For more Six Sunday goodness, check out the official website here.

Cover Artist Position Available

Breathless Press is hiring a cover artist.

Cover Artist position available. Send portfolios and/or questions to Victoria.Miller@breathlesspress.com if you are interested.