Sarah Ballance's Blog, page 58

07.22.12 #SixSunday with Last Call

Romantic suspense coming this summer to FOR THE MUSE PUBLISHING!

After hearing a gunshot followed by a conversation indicating a hit had gone bad, Rhys ducks into a recessed doorway and hopes she won’t be seen. (If this six throws you, check out the blurb here.)

The opening line belongs a bad guy.

“Our witness here is about to have an unfortunate accident.” He raised the weapon, aiming for the kill.

At point blank range, it was a short view down the barrel. Rhys expected that.

What she didn’t anticipate was the speed at which he pulled the trigger.

Or how quickly the pain hit.

*warning: this WIP has not yet met the brutal hand of my editor.*

As a side note, I do apologize to those of you I’ve not yet visited from last week. I’m having problems with my router and facing a deadline, all at once. I *will* get you all and I thank you for your continued visits. ;c)

Enjoy your Sunday six sentences at a time!  To see other participating authors, click here.

Vacation Reads Blog Hop July 19th – 25th (International Paperback Giveaway)

Click image to return to the hop!

Who’s on vacation? Well, I am, but I can’t pass up a blog hop from I Am a Reader, Not a Writer. *grin* The Vacation Reads edition is co-hosted by The Bookish Mama. Want to know how you can win not one but TWO paperbacks? Read on to find out how to enter and which two books are up for grabs!

The Prize

One winner will receive paperback copies of HAWTHORNE (Sarah Ballance) and TO URN HER LOVE (Elaina Lee). Both blurbs are listed below so check ‘em out if you’re not familiar with the books. This giveaway *is* open to international addresses as long as the USPS will deliver to you. If the cost of shipping will be over $15, I reserve the right to substitute the ebook versions in the winner’s choice of PDF, Amazon Kindle gift, or B&N Nook gift formats.

How to Enter

To enter, simply leave a comment with your email address. That’s it! I do hope you’ll consider following or subscribing to my blog. The email subscription box is at the top of the sidebar, and if you sign up you’ll be eligible for my weekly gift card giveaways. For more info on the giveaways, click here.

HAWTHORNE by Sarah Ballance

After a terrifying encounter with the unexplained, it took ten years and the news of her grandmother’s passing for Emma Grace Hawthorne to return to her childhood home.   She sought peace in saying a proper goodbye, but what she found was an old love, a sordid family history, and a wrong only she could right.

Living in the shadow of Hawthorne Manor, Noah Garrett never forgot about Emma Grace.  In a house full of secrets, his search for missing documents revealed a truth that could cost him everything.  What he found gave Emma the freedom to walk away from the mansion, her heart free and clear, but at what price to Noah?

TO URN HER LOVE by Elaina Lee

Caylie Abrahms bad day gets worse when the teen brother she’s responsible for proudly hands her a gift. Just wanting to show how much he appreciates all his sister does for him, Kyle steals what he believes is an ornate glass vase. The gift is anything but however, and now Caylie has to find the owner of an urn. Worst yet, she has to explain her dear brother stole someones loved one. Against all odds she learns the urn belongs to Rick Marshall, her best friend from college, the man she’d poured her heart out to and been rejected by. She never thought she’d see him again, let alone have to hand him back his father in glass. Will her resolve remain strong in his presence, or will she suffer another broken heart?

To enter to win both books in paperback, comment with your email address.
To return to the blog hop for more fantastic giveaways, please click here.

No Strings Attached Blog Hop July 17th – 22nd

Click image for more NO STRINGS giveaways!

Hi, y’all! I’m on a blogging break this week, but I couldn’t pass up the chance to participate in another fantastic giveaway hop from I Am A Reader, Not A Writer! And this one is extra special, guys, because it’s the *only* chance you have to win TIDE OF LIES. The only one. And not only that, but our winner will also take away a copy of FAMILIAR LIGHT, which is where the TIDE OF LIES story begins. Interested? Entering is easy!

HOW TO ENTER

To enter, simply leave a comment with your email address so I can contact you if you win. The winner will receive copies of both FAMILIAR LIGHT and TIDE OF LIES in PDF or via Amazon or Barnes & Noble as gift copies (winner’s choice).

FAMILIAR LIGHT

Seven years of longing comes down to just one night.

Laney Kent returns to Barrier Shoals hoping to reunite with her first love, Bridger. She anticipates his reception might be chilly, but what she doesn’t expect is to become the victim of a deadly obsession . . . or that this night with Bridger could be her last.

Bridger Jansen tangled a lot of sheets trying to forget about Laney, but his heart knew what the rest of him refused to admit: he could love no one else. He’s determined not to forgive her for leaving him without explanation, but when he fails to protect her from a viscous attack, the person he can’t forgive just might be himself.

TIDE OF LIES

A devastating secret. A shocking betrayal. A deadly obsession.

Haunted by three unsolved murders, Detective Holden Whitlow is stunned when his cold case takes a heated turn. Julia Cohen, his ex-lover, is back in town, and in the face of a brutal attack she’s ready to run. No matter how tightly she holds her secrets, for Holden, turning away from the woman he’s spent a decade trying to forget isn’t any more an option than walking away from his job . . . even when it threatens to cost Julia her life.

Julia is still reeling from a past she can’t bear to face. When she becomes the target of a killer, fate throws her back into Holden’s arms, but she’s yet to recover from a truth that has stripped her of everything—and everyone—she loves. Will she tell him the secret that will destroy him, or will her lie destroy them both?

Thank you for visiting!

TO ENTER, COMMENT WITH YOUR EMAIL ADDRESS
FOR MORE “NO STRINGS” GIVEAWAYS, CLICK HERE

07.15.12 #SixSunday with Last Call

Romantic suspense coming this summer to FOR THE MUSE PUBLISHING!

Our last six from LAST CALL ended with a gunshot on a dark, cold, deserted street. My heroine, Rhys, ducks out of sight just as she hears two men arguing over how they’ll get paid for a killing a man without a body. (The victim, it seems, didn’t take a bullet lying down.) The first line belongs to one of the two men.

“Shut up.”

A hit? Rhys shuddered, vulnerability itching her spine. A professional hit would have been silent—something accomplished by neither the gunshot nor the conversation following it—but in this game, experience wasn’t always a prerequisite for a willingness to pull the trigger. Two years of undercover work had taught her as much.

So had a bullet.

*warning: this WIP has not yet met the brutal hand of my editor.*

Enjoy your Sunday six sentences at a time!  To see other participating authors, click here.

07.14.2012 #SweetSat Samples: Run to You

Romantic suspense for the beach! Grab it by clicking the image.

Note: While this book does have some adult content (none of which will be featured here), it’s not explicit and is a very small portion of the overall story.

Congratulations to darksiry, this week’s gift card winner! If you’d like to be eligible for my weekly giveaways of a $10 gift card to Noble Romance or $5 to Amazon or Barnes & Noble (winner’s choice), simply subscribe by email using the box to your left. You’ll be automatically entered every week for as long as you remain a subscriber.

In this excerpt, Wyatt is talking to Mattie on the beach. He’s only just met her, but she’s already made quite an impression on him. Wyatt has a long-standing rule about harboring attraction for tourists–simply, don’t–but Mattie got under his skin, and fast. The first line is his.

“You make out okay in the storm?”

“I slept through most of it.” She looked past him at water, hugging her arms against her wet chest. “I hate the ocean.”

“Interesting vacation spot for someone who doesn’t like the water.”

“Oh, I love the beach. It’s so laid back and informal. Total opposite of my life. I don’t even mind having my toes in the water, but those big waves . . . .” She trailed off and shuddered.

Wyatt gave mighty resistance to the notion of putting his arms around her. With

a breeze whipping her blonde locks into a whirlwind and her jeans dragging in the sand, she suddenly looked small and vulnerable. He sure wished the wind would dry the wet out of her shirt.

“Anyway,” she said, drawing him out of his trance, “I sort of needed the escape from the real world.”

A tiny bit of cop nudged to his forefront. “Are you in some kind of trouble?” he asked.

“Just the kind stemming from a bad breakup.” She pushed a toe into the sand.

“I’m sorry.” It was all he could say. He watched as she brushed her hair out of her face with her fingers—a losing battle against the wind—and settled her gaze back on him. Those damn eyes of hers made him want to jump character and tell her she was beautiful.

ADD IT ON GOODREADS!

BUY @ NOBLE ROMANCE | AMAZON | BARNES & NOBLE

For more Sweet Saturday clean excerpts, click here.

RUN TO YOU | contemporary romantic suspense

Mattie James can’t pinpoint exactly when she lost control of her life, but the moment she decided to take it back made the front page of the local paper. Desperate to dodge the fallout— and the tabloids—she jumps at the chance to spend an off-season week in a tiny resort community by the sea. Making the trip with her ex-lover is a complication she can live with; coming face to face with a dead woman is not.

The last thing Sheriff Wyatt Reed expected to find on the storm-ravaged beach was a beautiful blonde with a jealous sidekick, but one look at Mattie left him wanting more. Their first date takes an ominous turn when he gets the call that a woman was found murdered. With a killer on the loose and a troubling lack of suspects or motive, Wyatt has to put his feelings aside to focus on the case. But his vow not to become personally involved is shattered when he discovers Mattie’s life is on the line, and this time the truth leaves her with a deadly choice . . . and nowhere to run.

BUY @ NOBLE ROMANCE | AMAZON | BARNES & NOBLE

Gillian Colbert is Writing Out Child Abuse with “A Light in the Darkness”

Please support this cause by clicking the image and telling a friend.

A Visit with Gillian Colbert

Welcome, Gillian! Can you tell our readers about “Reborn?” From where did you draw the inspiration for this story? Was it difficult for you to write?

Reborn is a story about Grace Devlin, a childhood sexual abuse survivor and her personal quest for healing. This story was inspired by real-life events. A friend of mine confessed to me once about the abuse her sister had facilitated being perpetrated upon her after a personal tragedy in their lives left them orphaned. The story was not difficult to write in the sense that I actually sat down and wrote it from beginning  to end in one day over a span of about eight hours. It was extremely difficult to write in that there were times I was writing through tears and times I wanted to puke. It was emotionally draining to write but so rewarding too.

That’s incredible you were so affected in the writing process–it speaks volumes of the power of your work. What do you most admire about your character(s)?

The thing I admire most about Grace is her resilience. She understands that she has been damaged and despite her fears, despite her doubts, she is willing each time to risk herself. That takes true courage.

With Kyle it’s his self-sacrificing spirit. He is willing to do whatever it takes to help Grace heal and men like that are so rare. He is one of my favorite characters.

What would you most like readers to take from “Reborn?”

I would love it if readers came away from Reborn uplifted. My hope in writing it was to show that abuse can be relegated to a stepping stone in life.  That is doesn’t have to define you even if the experience shades your hue and color. Most importantly that the abused can do more than survive, they can win.

REBORN | excerpt

The pounding on my door was getting louder.

“Open the door, Grace,” Kyle’s voice was muffled through the thick wood.

I didn’t answer. It had been three weeks since I’d run out on him. Three weeks in which I didn’t answer his calls, ducked him outside of class and ran the other way if I saw him coming. Three weeks in which I’d been haunted by those few glorious moments of sensuality before I freaked out.

“Grace, you can open this door voluntarily or I will come in without your permission. But, either way you are going to talk to me.”

I smirked. Kyle was well built, but he was no body builder. His shape was the kind you got from hard work that included lifting heavy animals. I doubted he could break down my door. It was solid wood. I’d personally replaced out the hollow door the place had come with after I’d moved in. Safety was important to me.

I heard what sounded like keys jangling and then watched with my mouth hanging open as the knob turned and my door slowly opened.

Kyle stood framed in my doorway. He looked haggard and drawn. There were lines around his eyes that hadn’t been there before and I had the sickening feeling I’d put them there. I’d never seen Kyle look so ruined.

“What happened? What’s wrong?” I grabbed his hand without thinking and pulled him into my living room and pushed him down on the leather sofa that I’d inherited from Phil when he refurnished his place. I pushed aside a stack of Vanity Fair magazines and sat facing him on my coffee table.

“What’s wrong?” He gaped at me like I was crazy. “What the hell do you think is wrong? You ran out on me and have been avoiding me.”

His voice was rising as he spoke. “Do you have any idea what it has done to me to think I hurt you? I haven’t slept through the night in three weeks.” He ran a hand through his already ravaged hair. “Grace, why won’t you talk to me? Please tell me I didn’t hurt you.” His hand trembled slightly as he reached for me, but I flinched and he let his hand drop into his lap.

I noticed the keys then. “Where did you get keys to my apartment?” My voice shook as I tried to control my breathing. The pain in his voice burned into my heart, but I didn’t know what to say.

“Katie.”

I’d forgotten about her set of keys. After we broke up, I just never bothered to get them back. We were still friendly and it was good to have an emergency set with a friend. I never dreamed she’d loan them out.

“Grace. Please we need to talk.”

“No, we don’t.”

“Yes, we do. We’re friends, Grace, or, at least, I thought we were. You can tell me anything. Please. I need you to tell me why you ran out of my place.”

“Look, Kyle. You didn’t do anything, okay? I don’t date men. You know this.”

“I know you dated Katie. It’s not the same thing as you don’t date men. You liked my kiss, Grace. You liked it.” His green eyes were bloodshot, but nonetheless urgent as he spoke.

“Kyle,” I sighed trying to breathe through the tears and sadness crushing my chest. “It doesn’t matter if I liked it. I can’t be with you.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Why not?”

“Just because I don’t.”

“Is it because you think I’ll feel differently about you if I know?”

I didn’t answer.

“Grace, nothing in your past will change the way I feel about you. Nothing.” The urgency in his voice had me snapping my gaze to his. His eyes burned with an intensity I’d never seen in him before. Goosebumps erupted on my skin and I trembled.

To purchase an e-book copy of A Light In The Darkness, you can either go to Amazon or Smashwords.

R. Renee Vickers is Writing Out Child Abuse with “A Light in the Darkness”

Please support WOCA by clicking image above and telling a friend.

A Guest Post from R. Renee Vickers

Hello everyone! I hope your day is going swimmingly (especially if you’re planning to be at a beach today). I’m back at Sarah’s fine establishment to talk about the Writing Out Child Abuse’s (WOCA) premier release, A Light In The Darkness. I’ve been here a couple of times (Thing One and Thing Two) in recent weeks to talk about this project and my story, Chasing Ashes, so I’d like to switch it up a little and talk about my thoughts on what I’ll be doing for my next submission to WOCA. I hope you enjoy!

*****

Mary Jane Alistair slouched in the stiff metal chair outside of her favorite gastro pub watching the endless stream of Sunday shoppers pass her by. The elegantly sculpted wrought iron stabbed at her back. Poking her chocolate drizzled croissant with her red polished fingernail, she decided this wasn’t what she really wanted. An image of clear blue eyes framed in soft tan skin crinkled in a consuming laugh flashed in her mind. Oh his smile, perfect white teeth set between lush lips pulled into a carefree grin. She sighed, wishing he was sitting across from her.

As though the gods themselves decided to answer her prayers, she caught a glimpse of his sun kissed auburn hair bobbing through the crowd. She pulled herself up to sit up straight, placing her hands in her lap. It couldn’t possibly be… A sense of disbelief bubbled up inside of her as she watched her heart’s desire making his way directly to where she sat. That same glorious smile she remembered so fondly graced his face as he approached. His eyes even sparkled in the mottled light which filtered through the urban canopy of scraggly oaks.

“Mary, it’s been a while.” He pulled the heavy chair out just enough to sit, placed his elbows on the table, and gave her the full spectrum of his broad and heavenly smile.

*****

But wait, that can’t possibly be all there is to the story, right?! Books would never sell if characters got their way so easily. Where’s the adversity? Where’s the build up? Where is the ever loving drama, people???

A story is a lot like life. It’s not about achieving a goal, but of what it took to get there. It’s about challenge, fortitude, and in the end, perseverance. If characters in stories got exactly what they desired as easily as the above scene showed, what would the draw be? Why would people choose to escape their own difficult lives to suckle on the teat of fiction?

Character building 101 dictates that all great characters have wants, desires, and needs and it’s up to the teller of the tale to furnish these base demands. It’s also the writer’s duty to pretty much torture the crap out of the characters before they get what they want. (which is my favorite part, to be completely honest) This is not a terribly difficult notion, as it simulates the real world to some extent. We mere mortals toil for the follies of the gods, if you believe in such things. We have wants, desires, and needs and work through our lives to get them. Sometimes they’re clear at the onset of our lives but often our needs will change as we grow older. It’s the same with our characters. So in the end, it’s really not about the destination but about the journey, in our stories as it is in real life.

That’s great, right? We’ve learned a lesson. Thanks for hanging, have a great rest of your day!

Wait! No, I was kidding, that’s not all. *laughs maniacally* (yes, “but wait, there’s more”)

What happens when you do eventually give your characters their heart’s desire?

Hmm…good question.

What happens after your favorite MC (main character) gets exactly what their after? Are there consequences attached to obtaining their goals? Are they happy with what they eventually achieved or is it not exactly what they thought it would be? What if they’re not happy with it once they have it? And, and this is not a small and, have they screwed over the other characters to get it. How do others feel about them getting their wishes fulfilled?

My point with these questions is that the story doesn’t have to end with the happily ever after. If your characters are living, breathing entities in your mind, you can create an endless world for them that can go on for as long as it amuses you.

I got to thinking about this while contemplating writing a sequel to my story for A Light In The Darkness, Chasing Ashes. In that story, I gave one of my characters exactly what they wanted…or did I? In going over the possibilities of extending the story I got to thinking about what sort of emotional tolls there could be on the characters of Chasing Ashes. What if what they accomplished didn’t produce the expected results? What if it wasn’t exactly what they wanted? What if there were some unanticipated emotional consequences to their actions? And lastly, how could I explore these ideas while staying true to the voice of the original story?

In the world of fiction, nothing really has to end. Depending on the world you build and the characters you put into it, a story can go on even after death, if you so choose it to. But if you decide to extend the story past your characters initial achievements, you’ll need to explore if their desires and needs have changed or simply developed to reach a more specific mark.

*****

Mary blinked her eyes several times, in utter shock that he was sitting there, just like that. A flurry of emotions swirled through her body. Her heart pounded feverishly in her chest, threatening to break free of its boney jail. When she woke up this morning she couldn’t have imagined he’d actually show up. But there he was!

She stood abruptly, sending her heavy chair crashing to the cement. Without noticing that she suddenly had drawn the attention of everyone within a fifty foot radius, she popped the cover off of her soft drink and flung the chilled, dark liquid at the devilishly handsome man sitting across from her. Soda splattered his face and his crisp white dress shirt.

“You bastard! You dog! I can’t believe you’re here!”

“What the hell?” He shouted, stood, and held his shirt away from his body in a feeble attempt to keep the cola from spilling on his pants.”

“I hope she was worth it!” Mary’s face contorted with the surge of emotions flowing through her as she screamed. All of the hurt and pain, and worse, the shame she felt in being seduced by someone of his ilk boiled over her.

His mouth hung agape. He had no retort.

*****

Poor Mary. She got what she wanted, to see the once center of her heart one more time, but there was no way she could have anticipated what turmoil it would have stirred in her.

Thank you all for reading along! I’d love to hear from you so please leave a comment. Thanks for having me to your site, Sarah!

R. Renée Vickers’s Bio

Born in Florida but raised in various towns in New England, R. Renée Vickers now lives in the south east. And although work and family life leave her little free time, she spends every available moment indulging in her favorite passion, writing.

LINKAGE

WOCA WEBSITE | Renee’s blog

Renee @ Noble Romance

Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

 

 

Summer Lovin’ Blog Hop July 11 – 17th

For more great giveaways, click image.

This blog hop is for clean romance, so once again you all have the chance to win a paperback copy of HAWTHORNE! This giveaway is open to international addresses, and entry is EASY! You’ll also have the opportunity to win a $10 gift card to Amazon, B&N, or Noble Romance.

HOW TO ENTER

To enter, simply leave a comment with your valid email address. If, at the time of the drawing, the winner is an *email* subscriber to my blog, he or she will also receive a $10 e-gift certificate to Noble Romance, Amazon, or Barnes & Noble (winner’s choice). I will check the email address before contacting the winner, so please be sure to confirm your subscription or it will not be valid. Additionally, all *email* subscribers are automatically eligible for my weekly gift card giveaways.

HAWTHORNE | blurb

After a terrifying encounter with the unexplained, it took ten years and the news of her grandmother’s passing for Emma Grace Hawthorne to return to her childhood home. She sought peace in saying a proper goodbye, but what she found was an old love, a sordid family history, and a wrong only she could right.

Living in the shadow of Hawthorne Manor, Noah Garrett never forgot about Emma Grace. In a house full of secrets, his search for missing documents revealed a truth that could cost him everything. What he found gave Emma the freedom to walk away from the mansion, her heart free and clear, but at what price to Noah?

GOODREADS | EXCERPT

FOR MORE SUMMER LOVIN’ GIVEAWAYS, CLICK HERE.

This giveaway is open to international addresses, as long as the USPS will deliver to you. To verify your location, please visit usps.com. If shipping will be more than $15USD, I reserve the right to substitute a gift certificate or winner’s choice of ebooks to equal at least $15USD in value.

Amber Green is Writing Out Child Abuse with “A Light in the Darkness”

Please support this cause by clicking the image and telling a friend.

A Guest Post from WOCA Author Amber Green

“Exit, Horatio” is one of the stories in the WOCA anthology  JS Wayne was on this blog to discuss yesterday.

Horatio, a young stage apprentice, discovers that prostitution is the price of glory on the Elizabethan stage. But his new patron is a blood-drinker, and Horatio’s corpse is dumped into the Thames. His murderers expect him to be forgotten, a book closed forever. But the boy who clung so fiercely to his dreams has become a ghost who clings just as fiercely to his new goal: stopping the murders.

EXIT HORATIO | excerpt

“Please this gent, Horatio, and never be hungry again.”

I studied the wardrobe master’s scowl, the way he fingered the three-guinea ruby in his ear, and knew refusal would mean I would lose my warm nest among the theater’s props, my place at the singers’ table, and my chance of a future at center stage. Anger and dread twisted together in my bowels.

What had the gent paid him, a shilling? Half that, perhaps?

I carefully scrolled the ancient laces I’d been airing, shed my protective gloves, and made my bows to Master Jerome and to the gentleman. The stranger wore thick face-paint and a sweeping fur-lined cloak that was salted with the sheddings of his powdered wig. Bulging eyes and a low, thin mouth gave him the look of a red-lipped, famine-struck toad.

Nor did the hunger in his face present a puzzle. Not since Bonfire Night, when I’d gone in laughable innocence to play the role of a Sabine woman at an earl’s masque.

Afterward, when the singing master tended my hurts and explained the price of patronage, I’d sworn to succeed without it.

He’d smiled sadly. “Words are bitter forage, Horatio.”

So I swallowed my bitterness and summoned a smile for the gentleman. An actor can present any face his role requires.

He unclasped the frog of his cloak, and threw ample folds of it about me. “This one will suit, Master Jerome. Come, my Ganymede.”

Blind under his cloak, choking on the scents of violets and dust, I clutched his sleeve with both hands. His coat skirts blocked view of my feet. Mustn’t trip. Mustn’t trip.

Outside, with the night wind lifting the heavy furs like a sail and the ice slick underfoot, I changed my inner chant—I mustn’t slip.

He whispered as we walked. “Thou shalt never again shiver through a cold night. Never again sleep with an empty belly.”

Some fool part of me yearned to believe him. Even when he led me into a house smelling of cabbage, muttered to someone I wasn’t privileged to see, and uncloaked me with my toes against the steps of one of those anonymous bed-cabinets one might rent for a farthing an hour, or a penny the night.

“Undress, my beauty.”

I hesitated. A muffled whimper came from one of the other cabinets, but no one else had trusted his clothes to any of the cabinet-side racks. More, my livery was new, assigned to me as payment or apology for the earl’s party.

But my patron had hung his cloak and coat already, and was unbuttoning his waistcoat. I watched his smooth-flowing shadow; as quickly as he moved, the flame of the oil lamp flickered scarcely at all.

I broke into a sweat, and at the same time shivered helplessly.

He was down to his small-clothes, and crawling into the shadowed bed. “Come, Master Shyness. Freezing one’s clothing at night keeps the lice out.”

My mother had said the same, when I was a small boy. Mind them not, Horatio. When the winter comes, they will freeze out.

Still, I hesitated. “Should my outfit be stolen, m’lord, what would I wear?”

His hand caught me by the throat. Pale eyes stared into mine.

For a moment, my breath scraped past the stricture, and my pulse pounded against it. The fingers I pried at might as well be stone.

Then he let me go. “Undress, fool, or do not. But come to bed before thy blood chills overmuch!”

I had little enough to strip away. Even with my hands shaking so, I fumbled my way out of it and threw the bundled cloth at the foot of the bed.

“Stop by the lamp, Ganymede. I wish to see.”

No one survives without a patron, Horatio. I dragged a breath through my bruised throat, struck a heroic pose with one fist up, then flushed hot. What of my choices had ever been heroic? I peeked sidelong at him, unballed my fist and dropped it to caress my shoulder, and forced a smile. Better my role be beauty seduced, than captive sick with fear.

* * *

One of my favorite movies is Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, based on a play by Tom Stoppard.  Here’s a quote: For a handful of coin I happen to have a private and uncut performance of “The Rape of the Sabine Women,” or rather Woman, or rather Alfred. And for eight you can participate.

Alfred in the movie is an adult, but in the play he was a resigned eleven-year-old struggling into a woman’s dress.  That disturbed me. Knowing how true-to-life that portrayal might have been disturbed me more. After letting the images roll around in the back of my head for a few years, I realized I had to write a better future for him.

So maybe I cheated by adding the paranormal. Maybe someday I can write it straight. But for now, we have Horatio, the ghost, confronting his pimp and his murderer. I hope you like the result.

Amber

Visit www.shapeshiftersinlust.com tonight!

To purchase an e-book copy of A Light In The Darkness, you can either go to Amazon or Smashwords.

J.S. Wayne is Writing Out Child Abuse with “A Light in the Darkness”

Please support this cause by clicking the image and telling a friend.

A guest post from J.S. Wayne

When I first started Writing Out Child Abuse, I freely admit I did so in anger. Well, okay, rage, if you want to be nitpicky about it. I must say I think that’s only fitting: Child abuse is something people damn well should be angry about!

Most people would have stopped right there and said, “Okay, I’m doing this because I believe in it.” Being me, though, I had to take it one step further and bare one of the hardest and most shameful secrets I’ve ever carried to the world. (I know I shouldn’t feel that way. I didn’t ask to have what happened to me happen. But ask any child abuse survivor what emotions they feel and I’ll lay you long odds “shame” is right up at the top of the list.)

Why did I so bluntly explain my underlying motives? What moved me to slit my figurative wrists and drip the bleeding result all over the WOCA blog for anyone to see who cared to look?

There’s no simple answer, really. Anyone who deludes themselves that there is or could be is lying to themselves. The fact is I had a number of motives. One is that nowadays, any charity started by a public or quasi-public figure is going to be regarded with a healthy dose of skepticism, a “What’s in it for you?” quirk of the eyebrow. Another is that I remember all too vividly, even now, what happened to me and the terrible toll it took, and still takes today. And still another is that I truly, genuinely believe that we as a species, as a race, and as sentient beings are wholly unworthy of the airs we put on until we uniformly agree all around the world, in every language, that every child deserves to be loved, cared for, and protected.

My lot in life is not to punish the wicked, no matter how many vigilante Batman fantasies I may entertain. I may muse longingly about pulling the trigger, the switch, or depressing the plunger which banishes the abusers, the molesters, and the neglectors to a place where they can never harm anyone else, but ultimately I know and understand that’s just not me. But I still wanted to be a beacon, a bulwark against the darkness for these children, and to offer hope that the cruelty and malice of adults is not universally shared.

It sounds very self-aggrandizing when I break it down to such a degree, I suppose. I entertain few illusions about myself, and I know I’m no Superman. Hell, I’m not even Robin! The final result was I wanted to do something truly worthwhile and really selfless, something that offered no reward but the chance to know I was truly making a difference in this world.

To my relieved gratification, I quickly learned I wasn’t alone. Gillian Colbert, R. Renee Vickers, Amber Green, Eric Keys, and Phoebe Valois all answered the initial submission call for A Light In The Darkness. I’ve got plenty of space for more submissions and have already assembled quite a list of authors who’ve stepped up for the current call, which closes October 1st.  (See below for more details on that.) My eyes still prickle with humbled gratitude every time I visit a fellow author’s blog and see the WOCA badge proudly adorning their little space on the Internet. All of these things tell me that child abuse really isn’t something people are willing to ignore or just let go anymore.

Whether you’re an author, a reader, or just dropping in to see what all the buzz is, you can help us in our fight. No one involved with WOCA is profiting from the sale of A Light In The Darkness. 100% of all profits are going directly into the WOCA coffers and will be dispersed monthly on an equal basis to a number of child abuse prevention and education initiatives around the globe. I myself have an ongoing personal pledge over and above this: 50% of all author proceeds from Shadowphoenix: Requiem, my first urban fantasy/horror novel, as well as 20% of all profits from my entire backlist of Noble Romance works.

Child abuse is an awkward subject, there’s no denying that. Where are the lines drawn? Who decides where the boundary between discipline and abuse blurs or vanishes altogether? When does a simple hug or touch become something more sinister? Because it’s so awkward, many people would rather pop it in a box and forget all about it.

Odds are, though, if you’re here today, you’re like me.

And I don’t roll that way.

I know the tone of this blog has been very serious, in direct contrast to most of my usual postings. This is a serious subject and should be treated as such. But the idea of WOCA and A Light In The Darkness is not and has never been to invoke depression or hopelessness. Quite the opposite! The task here is to create the emotion which, very much by design, is also the very last word in ALITD. And that word, gentle readers, is “hope.”

A warm hug and a huge thank-you to Sarah Ballance for letting me come over and spread the word about what WOCA is up to! Before I go, here’s an excerpt from one of my contributions to A Light In The Darkness, “A Hope In Hell.” I hope you enjoy it and that you’ll consider purchasing a copy of ALITD for your own, and/or that you’ll get involved with WOCA another way. Either way, I appreciate y’all spending a little time today. Don’t forget to check back later this week for more from WOCA’s contributing authors!

 

Blurb:

Writing Out Child Abuse  began as a simple concept: A network of publishing industry professionals dedicated to the credo that children everywhere deserve to be safe and to be children, and to provide hope, safety, comfort, and aid to survivors of child abuse the world over.

In A Light in the Darkness, the inaugural anthology from the authors of WOCA, a dark world awaits you. Spanning centuries of time, encircling the globe, and running the gamut from eerie historical fiction to gritty urban fantasy to page-scorching erotic romance, these authors unflinchingly dissect the horror of child abuse in all its forms. These authors have taken great pains to ensure the innocent are assured justice and the guilty pay for their crimes in the unique fantasy worlds they have created. Sadly, in real life, this is not always the case.

Some of the newest and hottest names in fiction have lent their talents to this collection, including Gillian Colbert, Amber Green, R. Renee Vickers, Eric Keys, Phoebe Valois, and J.S. Wayne. All of these authors are united by one core belief, and with this collection, they seek to turn their talents to a greater good.

One hundred percent of all proceeds from this collection are being donated directly to Writing Out Child Abuse. These proceeds will then be dispersed to charities whose sole aim is to help survivors of child abuse all over the globe. To learn more about WOCA or their fund-raising activities, or to get involved yourself, visit http://wix.com/writingoutchildabuse/intro.

 

Excerpt (rated PG-13 for disturbing imagery)

Versiel decided in moments that she didn’t care for the feeling of traveling across the veil. The nausea and discomfort the transit caused made her cranky and irritable, ready to take offense at the tiniest slight. On the other hand, that wasn’t wholly a bad thing, so long as she vented her ire in the right direction.

The ranch-style suburban house appeared perfectly normal to her regular sight. White siding, pale blue trim, lawn the size of a postage stamp. The shrubs butting up against the one-story dwelling were uniformly manicured and well-maintained, the first of the spring flowers peeping out between the branches.

She took a long sniff of the balmy evening air. It was still early enough that her presence on the street wouldn’t be taken amiss. After adjusting the hem of her green jumper, she reached up checked her beret to be sure it was squarely seated on her head. Normal, meaningless gestures that had nothing to do with the reality of the situation, but they would satisfy any observer.

Squinting slightly, she stared at the house again. Her stomach fluttered as she  invoked the odd sense only her kind possessed. The pleasant, typical suburban home was stripped away to be replaced by a vision of the true nature of the inhabitant and the deeds the house had witnessed.

The house reeled and cringed on its foundation as if struck by a god’s fist, the paint peeling and cracking, running in some spots in bruises and lacerations as produced by Sherwin Williams. The windows spiderwebbed and jagged fangs of glass fell out of the panes to tinkle onto the porch, falling through missing boards in some places and crashing onto the warped wood in others. Soon only the empty holes remained, as lifeless and blank as a tragedy victim’s eyes.

She watched through the weed-choked chain link fence as the ground began to shiver and boil, vomiting up clods of earth and tangles of roots. Among the grasping fingers of the broken roots, brownish and reddish pebbles began to show through the spewing earth. The pieces became larger and larger, until she recognized a small thigh bone mingled among the destruction. A low moan like the rustling of a dry desert wind howled around her, the innocents who had suffered and died here screaming out from their unhallowed and unknown graves for surcease and revenge.

A head-to-toe shudder racked her tiny frame, and she fought the urge to recoil. She pushed away the vision by main force, blinking several times to try to erase the memory from her mind without success. Swallowing hard, she squared her shoulders and marched up to the door, a half-dozen brightly colored boxes tucked under her arm. She mounted the small flight of stairs leading to the porch and rang the bell, taking care not to touch anything more than absolutely necessary.

The dignified chime cut through the canned laughter of a TV show. In a few seconds, a rustling from the general area of the forced merriment told her the homeowner would soon be arriving. She took one step backward, hoping the queasiness in her stomach didn’t show on her face.

The porch light clicked on and the door opened.

To purchase an e-book copy of A Light In The Darkness, you can either go to Amazon or Smashwords.