Reena Jacobs's Blog, page 15
May 24, 2012
Guest Post: MaryLynn Bast + Giveaway
You all might remember a while back, MaryLynn Bast spent a week with us as part of her No Remorse blog tour. Please welcome her back as she share a bit about the development of her Heart of the Wolf Series! But first, a little about No Remorse.
Due to her unusual birth, Amber has abilities no other werewolf has ever possessed. On the run since childhood, the lone wolf avoids contact with other werewolves at all cost, continually moving, constantly looking over her shoulder and always alone.
Everything changes when Amber saves a werewolf from the mere brink of death, Blake, the only werewolf to ever protect her. Love blossoms, but not without tribulations when Amber realizes she must help her new pack rescue a member who is being held hostage by a rival pack.
Warring with emotions of going from lone wolf to the pack leader’s mate, Amber must decide if she is willing to risk Blake’s life to know true family and friendship despite the fact that the Council is hell bent on locating her and will stop at nothing until she is found. Will Amber’s special abilities be enough to keep everyone safe?
Available at Amazon
As an avid reader, I always wondered what if the author had done this with the story instead of what they had done. How did the author come up with the strange names that always appeared in the fantasy and sci-fi books, movies and shows? How did they come up with their own little world? When I first began writing, I wondered how the heck I was going to be able to create my own little world. I sat down and began writing No Remorse without any sense of direction, other than this is going to be about a female werewolf. My little world appeared as I brought my character through her struggles of being a lone, female wolf on the run. Recently, I went to a writing class given by Maxwell Alexander Drake, award winning author for his Genesis Oblivion Saga. After sitting through his class, I realized, I had, for the most part already created my own world with my Heart of a Wolf Series. I just went about it in a different way than Drake sets up his worlds. He did give some really good pointers that I will try to apply to the stories as I move further into the Series. I am sure once my characters grow, my stories and my abilities as an author will grow as well.
No Remorse is the first novel in the Heart of a Wolf Series. It is also the first of my stories to be published and I am extremely excited about it. I have written all my life, but this is the first time that I have taken a character to the point of competing a story. The universe I am creating for my werewolves parallel the human world where the paranormal really exists.
When I first wrote No Remorse I had no intention of setting up the universe that seemed to grow the further I got into the story. I was going to publish the book, print my own copy and be happy with that. Once I started letting friends and family read the story, they encouraged me to publish it for real. I’m glad I did and hope you all enjoy Amber’s story as she struggles through life without friends or loved ones while evading capture by the werewolves’ council leader. When Amber does become part of a pack, she wars with her emotions of going from a lone wolf to a pack mate. She must decide if the special abilities she was born with, and she is still learning to use, will be enough for her to protect Blake and his pack.
“Claws & Canines”
MaryLynn Bast
http://www.heartofawolf.com/
About MaryLynn Bast
MaryLynn Bast is a Texas native who is currently living it up in Las Vegas. Bast writes paranormal fantasy romance because it allows her imagination to run rampant, permitting the characters of her stories to obtain abilities not possible in the real world, or is it? MaryLynn is married to Patrick, has three children, three step children and enjoys traveling the world.
Connect with MaryLynn Bast Online
FaceBook Page
FaceBook
Twitter
Website
Youtube
Amazon
A New Development
MaryLynn Bast recently had a release: One Bite to Passion. For details about MaryLynn Bast’s upcoming blog tour, head to Full Moon Bites! Also, stop here on June 5 for an excerpt of One Bite to Passion!
Giveaway Time!
From MaryLynn Bast:
I hadn’t planned on it, but whoever leaves a comment mentioning what they like about werewolves and/or vampires and they will be entered into a drawing of their choice of an ebook of No Remorse, or my just released erotica One Bite To passion.
Guest Post: MaryLynn Bast
You all might remember a while back, MaryLynn Bast spent a week with us as part of her No Remorse blog tour. Please welcome her back as she share a bit about the development of her Heart of the Wolf Series! But first, a little about No Remorse.
Due to her unusual birth, Amber has abilities no other werewolf has ever possessed. On the run since childhood, the lone wolf avoids contact with other werewolves at all cost, continually moving, constantly looking over her shoulder and always alone.
Everything changes when Amber saves a werewolf from the mere brink of death, Blake, the only werewolf to ever protect her. Love blossoms, but not without tribulations when Amber realizes she must help her new pack rescue a member who is being held hostage by a rival pack.
Warring with emotions of going from lone wolf to the pack leader’s mate, Amber must decide if she is willing to risk Blake’s life to know true family and friendship despite the fact that the Council is hell bent on locating her and will stop at nothing until she is found. Will Amber’s special abilities be enough to keep everyone safe?
Available at Amazon
As an avid reader, I always wondered what if the author had done this with the story instead of what they had done. How did the author come up with the strange names that always appeared in the fantasy and sci-fi books, movies and shows? How did they come up with their own little world? When I first began writing, I wondered how the heck I was going to be able to create my own little world. I sat down and began writing No Remorse without any sense of direction, other than this is going to be about a female werewolf. My little world appeared as I brought my character through her struggles of being a lone, female wolf on the run. Recently, I went to a writing class given by Maxwell Alexander Drake, award winning author for his Genesis Oblivion Saga. After sitting through his class, I realized, I had, for the most part already created my own world with my Heart of a Wolf Series. I just went about it in a different way than Drake sets up his worlds. He did give some really good pointers that I will try to apply to the stories as I move further into the Series. I am sure once my characters grow, my stories and my abilities as an author will grow as well.
No Remorse is the first novel in the Heart of a Wolf Series. It is also the first of my stories to be published and I am extremely excited about it. I have written all my life, but this is the first time that I have taken a character to the point of competing a story. The universe I am creating for my werewolves parallel the human world where the paranormal really exists.
When I first wrote No Remorse I had no intention of setting up the universe that seemed to grow the further I got into the story. I was going to publish the book, print my own copy and be happy with that. Once I started letting friends and family read the story, they encouraged me to publish it for real. I’m glad I did and hope you all enjoy Amber’s story as she struggles through life without friends or loved ones while evading capture by the werewolves’ council leader. When Amber does become part of a pack, she wars with her emotions of going from a lone wolf to a pack mate. She must decide if the special abilities she was born with, and she is still learning to use, will be enough for her to protect Blake and his pack.
“Claws & Canines”
MaryLynn Bast
http://www.heartofawolf.com/
About MaryLynn Bast
MaryLynn Bast is a Texas native who is currently living it up in Las Vegas. Bast writes paranormal fantasy romance because it allows her imagination to run rampant, permitting the characters of her stories to obtain abilities not possible in the real world, or is it? MaryLynn is married to Patrick, has three children, three step children and enjoys traveling the world.
Connect with MaryLynn Bast Online
FaceBook Page
FaceBook
Twitter
Website
Youtube
Amazon
May 23, 2012
Someone Else, Somewhere Else Blog Tour + Giveaway
It’s not often a story catches my attention enough to commit to a review, but Someone Else, Somewhere Else reeled me in (review here). Today, the author, Jenelle Jack Pierre, is here to share a little about herself.
Reena Jacobs: I devoured Someone Else, Somewhere Else in one sitting. I have to admit, I’m quite drawn to endings with imperfect solutions. Will you tell the readers a little about Someone Else, Somewhere Else?
Jenelle Jack Pierre: Someone Else, Somewhere Else is about twin sisters who move to a new neighborhood and become friends with their neighbors. The story delves into how two ‘similar’ families can be totally different. Its told in the first-person plural because of the closeness of the main characters.
RJ: I found the first-person plural an interesting route. I’ve never read a book like that. Very cool. I notice you have quite a few short stories under your belt. Short stories and novella are definitely my thing these days. Please share with us your inclination to write short stories?
JJP: I think short stories allows a writer to dive into different worlds and build a fictional life that doesn’t necessarily need 100 or more pages.
RJ: One of the pieces of advice you give to writers on your website is “be bold enough to experiment with more than one genre if that suits you.” Surfing your writing portfolio, I see you take your advice to heart. Even though you’ve written in a few genres, do you find your works have a common theme? And if so, what?
JJP: I’ve never thought about my work having a common theme. But now that you ask, I think yes. It would be: Decide for yourself
RJ: I like that. It’s very pro-active. I saw the “decide for yourself” aspect in Someone Else, Somewhere Else. How much of you/your life do you put into your stories?
JJP: I would say zero. It’s all make-believe. I would add though that writers’ stories are created from their minds, so if a character loves Twizzlers, it may or may not be because the writer knew someone who loved Twizzlers. He or she might not sit down to think of why they chose Twizzlers, it’s just there, ready to pull.
RJ: Which author has inspired you the most?
JJP: Jhumpa Lahiri
RJ: Jhumpa Lahiri is a new name for me. 
I had to look her up. I love reading about the cultural aspects of 1st and 2nd generation Americans. I’ve been an Amy Tan fan since my teenage days. Thank you for giving me another author to enjoy. What are you working on now?
JJP: A short story collection called “Love’s Onlookers.”
RJ: We’ll have to keep an eye out for “Love’s Onlookers.” Anything special you’d like to say to readers?
JJP: I hope you enjoy reading “Someone Else, Somewhere Else.” I appreciate any feedback through your review.
At the time of this post, Someone Else, Somewhere Else is available as a free read at:
Barnes & Nobles || Smashwords || Amazon
About Jenelle Jack Pierre
I was born in Trinidad and raised in Maryland. My parents encouraged my love of reading with lots of books. I’m an only child, which means I’m good at board games, especially Scrabble.
I started writing as a way to entertain myself, mostly poetry. I majored in Communication Studies at the University of Maryland, College Park and after college, I became a media researcher (radio) at a PR software company. Soon after that, I interned and studied writing at Johns Hopkins University.
Before I Breathe is my first YA novel. I also write contemporary short stories.
I have a variety of interests apart from writing, including reading, hanging out with my husband, cooking, and traveling.
Follow the Tour!
20 Jenelle Jack Pierre, “Someone Else, Somewhere Else” Tour: Margie, Bumbles and Fairy-Tales
22 Jenelle Jack Pierre, “Someone Else, Somewhere Else” Tour: Melissa, adventures of frugal mom
24 Jenelle Jack Pierre, “Someone Else, Somewhere Else” Tour: Reena, Ramblings of an Amateur Writer
25 Jenelle Jack Pierre, “Someone Else, Somewhere Else” Tour: Ali, Ali’s Bookshelf
26 Jenelle Jack Pierre, “Someone Else, Somewhere Else” Tour: Mary Ann, All Things Writing
Giveaway Time
Jenelle Jack Pierce is giving away a copy of her YA Novel, Before I Breathe.
Thought she met the right boy. Left home. Now her life’s turned upside down.
Kalena Moore is a Montgomery High student who isn’t into school. Her friends think her classmate, Isaiah Wilkins, is trouble. Life becomes more interesting when Kalena starts dating Isaiah, but soon things spin quickly out of control and she gets pregnant. Then Kalena sees another side to her boyfriend. Determined to put her life back together, Kalena takes a new path, navigating the pitfalls along the way.
For an opportunity to win, leave a comment here or on the review post. And don’t forget to leave your email so we can contact the winner.
May 22, 2012
The Bird with the Broken Wing Blog Tour
I have to say, I’m loving this cover. The colors are beautiful, and the pose makes me wonder what’s in store for her future. So here we are, helping kick off The Bird with the Broken Wing blog tour. Kick back, relax, and enjoy the excerpt!
Title: The Bird With The Broken Wing
Author: D L Richardson
Genre: Paranormal, Young-adult
Publisher: Etopia Press
Ebook
Pages: 147
Words: 48575
Book Description:
“When mortals make mistakes they’re forgiven.
When angels make mistakes they’re forsaken.
Angels may not reveal themselves to mortals.
But when the mortal Rachael’s watching over is hurting, how can she stay hidden in the shadows?
Guardian angel Rachael becomes trapped with the mortal she’s been assigned to watch over. Unable to watch him suffer, she decides the only way to free him of his inner demons is to break the rules about becoming involved, revealing her true identity, and applying divine intervention. But what choice does she have? Without her help, his soul will be trapped forever. Then a stranger appears, giving Rachael reason to wonder if his is the only soul in need of saving…”
Available at Barnes & Nobles || Kobo Books || OmniLit || Sony || Amazon US || Amazon UK
B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-b...
KoBo Books: http://kobobooks.com/ebook/The-Bird-w...
Excerpt from Bird With the Broken Wing
Prologue
She was a chronic worrier—
“I have a bad feeling about this, Ben.”
—and a touch melodramatic.
“This is suicide. It’s also stupid, morally wrong, and pointless. And did I mention suicide?”
Ben wasn’t listening. He was reaching a hand inside the open neck of his shirt. She’d spent enough time with him to know he was touching the cross on the necklace that had once belonged to his dad.
“Detached, that’s how you make me feel, Ben. Like I’m watching your life through a window.”
Striking up an old conversation was hardly creative, yet the feeling of not belonging with him was just as strong now. She gave a heavy, audible sigh but Ben wasn’t taking the bait. “A bubble. I live in a bubble.”
“Relax.” Ben closed his eyes as he sucked up a deep, dusty red breath like he was meditating on Mars.
“Everything will be all right.”
As well as a chronic worrier and a touch melodramatic, she was also an eternal optimist. So she looked around in case she was missing something, but all she saw was proof to the contrary. She, Ben, and a few hundred others were in a convoy, crossing a desert that appeared to be empty, yet the drivers had dodged gun and mortar fire since they’d passed over the border an hour ago.
What this land must have looked like when it’d been fertile with lush, green trees and wide, blue rivers was hard to imagine, but she tried. Her eyes had closed for a second when a burst of gunfire to her right jolted them wide open again.
“We signed up for non-combat jobs, remember?” She wondered if punching him in the head would do any good.
Probably not. If her bubble-hands were too weak to smash through the invisible wall surrounding her, they’d be like wet rags against his thick skull. Plus he was wearing a metal helmet and she was likely to break more than a nail.
“We’re meant to be back home making trucks. That’s what we were promised we’d be doing. Jeez, Ben. Think about your mom.”
Perhaps he was. Perhaps many of the soldiers here were thinking about loved ones they’d left behind. Many of the men and women seated on either side of her had grave expressions, like tufts of unruly hair, peeking out from underneath their helmets. Or were they just scared?
Maybe a sense of duty impelled them to enter a war zone. Responsibility was her only motive; she certainly wasn’t here for the ambience. And she would rather have thrown herself under the truck’s heavy wheels than dodge her responsibilities. So with an dramatic sigh—in case during the past minute Ben had suddenly developed the ability to take a hint—she settled back into the role of accepting what she couldn’t change while wishing that she could.
A round of cheers sprang up from a group of soldiers at the back of the truck, a malevolent presence screaming as if newly born and was demanding to be fed. She shivered and huddled closer to Ben.
It can be the brightest day, but fill it with just one dark soul and the day is ruined.
She made a mental note to keep well clear of these soldiers. She hoped Ben was smart enough to do the same.
“I’m here to keep my homeland safe.” The tremor in Ben’s voice was at odds with his bold statement. She wanted to tell him he could’ve made trucks at home, but because his eyes were fixed on his boots she succumbed to the rhythm of the back-jarring ride across the pothole-filled road and held her breath, hoping it wouldn’t be her last.
Their convoy of flatbed trucks was carrying hundreds of troops, weapons, ammunition, Abrams tanks, armored personnel carriers, and Humvees to the compound, their base for the next six months. With any luck they’d move out faster than they were moving in. Their convoy was doing twenty miles an hour, but she felt as if ants could have passed them.
She wanted to laugh as she pictured tiny insects kicking up orange dust, flipping the bird at the drivers and shouting obscenities. Instead, she bit her lower lip. This was neither the time nor the place to flaunt her eternal optimism. Besides, she wasn’t sure she had any cheerfulness left in her.
“I still don’t see why we’re here,” she mumbled.
What made the trip seem slower, she realized, was the lack of perspective. Much like an ocean without any land mass to help judge distance, this desert seemed to stretch endlessly ahead of them. If only the drivers would go faster; it had to be harder to hit a quicker-moving target. She was tempted to grab Ben by the collar and pull him off the truck, but the heat was around a hundred degrees, and with all the gear packed on them—M-247, M-249, backpack, flak jacket, radio, helmet, goggles—it would’ve been like sprinting around inside an oven.
Sand began to whirl in all directions, marching up and down the convoy as if sizing it up to establish whether it could be swallowed whole. This was the most dangerous time for the convoy. The trucks had to slow to a crawl or risk running into each other or off the road. Their only saving grace was that the enemy was exposed to the same elements. So while the soldiers couldn’t see a thing, they also couldn’t be seen. At least that was her theory.
Time went by. Soldiers weren’t killed so everyone began to relax a little and make conversation. But when the flatbed truck passed a burned-out tank on the side of the road, everyone went quiet. Nobody could take their eyes off the ruins. Despite wanting to look away out of respect, she was enthralled.
Did everyone want to know the same thing she did? Had the tank internally combusted from the constant battering of the sun? Nice concept, but this damage had been caused by man. Judging by the looks on their faces, everyone knew that. When the eyes of the soldiers around her widened she guessed they had silently asked another question. Was this one of their tanks or the enemy’s?
They lowered their eyes and she had her answer.
“Do you think they got out before it got hit?” she asked.
Ben didn’t respond, but from the rear of the truck the loud-mouthed soldiers yelled, “Oh yeah, you’re gonna get it now, you freakin’ sons of bitches.” Cheers followed. Even if she’d known what insults to hurl at these soldiers, she reminded herself that she’d sworn moments ago to steer clear of these men. So she kept her gaze forward and her mouth shut.
Like a good soldier. A ripple of self-loathing rose and lodged in her throat. She’d never have guessed it would taste so foul.
Outside, the sand was swirling faster as though thrown about by a crèche load of bad-tempered toddlers, and pretty soon both the ground and sky were painted flame orange, crackling like an open fire. She was afraid to breathe. Soldiers pulled down their goggles to cover their eyes, but this action was a useless defense against the sand that bit into their exposed flesh.
The dust cleared, and finally, the convoy arrived at the compound. Without a word, she and everyone else began unloading the contents of the flatbed trucks—smaller trucks, enough guns to keep the war going for centuries, tanks, food, water and whatever other supplies they’d need for the next six months.
Breathing was difficult. This was the most physical work she’d performed in ages. When she stopped for a break, resentment at the lies welled inside her. Tears stung her eyes. “Forget home sweet home, this place is home sweat home.”
Each and every soldier was drenched from top to bottom from the exertion of working under the glaring sun. Their sweat filled the air; she could have sworn she was in a sauna. Optimism dripped off her forehead. She wiped at her brow and was surprised when her hand came away wet, not with sweat but something else.
No tears. At least not for herself.
After half an hour, a few companies got into the smaller trucks and disappeared, perhaps to do their hard labor in another section of the growing heat. Another hour after that, once everything had been unloaded, the company she and Ben were assigned to was ordered into one of the smaller trucks, and they too left.
A sergeant with silver hair and eyes was seated in the front. He looked the type who was too mean to have ever had a pet. For long.
“You pussies will stand guard at the hospital for the next twenty-four hours,” the sergeant bellowed. “You will each do two twelve-hour shifts, one shift inside the hospital, one outside.”
“When do we get time to shoot the enemy?” the kid next to Ben asked. For one so young his eyes were hard, like steel.
“Don’t be fooled. The enemy is out there.” The sergeant’s gravelly voice roared as loudly as the aircraft parading over their heads. “If you ladies find yourself in a threatening situation, well, you know what to do. Are you pussies prepared to protect your fellow countrymen?”
A roar of cheers engulfed the truck. If the enemy hadn’t known they were here before, they were well aware of it now.
“Shoot first and ask questions later. That’s what he means.” The kid inched his way closer toward Ben. “You ever shot a bear? They come at you even after you’ve pumped ten rounds in ’em. I’ve heard it’s the same with these bastards. You shoot ’em and shoot ’em, but they keep coming at you with guns and knives. All the while cursing at you in the Devil’s language. You got to be careful not to touch ’em either. Their blood is poison.”
“I doubt we’ll shoot anyone at a hospital.” Ben scowled and moved along the bench as best as he could without falling off the edge. The kid must have gotten the hint because he kept quiet after that.
Unaffected by the searing heat outside, the truck chugged along until it rolled up outside a hospital that had weathered grenade blasts and gunfire till it resembled a thousand-year-old relic.
For some, this was their first time on foreign soil. For others, this was simply another day at work. Yet everyone jumped off the truck and danced boxer-like on their feet as though something invisible was going to jump out from the air and snatch them.
The sky above was on the go with Apache helicopters, hellfire missiles, dust, and jet stream. On the ground was a different story. The air barely stirred. No sign of anyone or anything with a pulse, let alone the dreaded enemy. Aside from one or two civilians she could see sneaking peeks at the soldiers from around corners of shattered buildings, the street was empty. So why could she feel the distinct presence of something out there? Watching, waiting, and blistering with hatred at this invasion.
“Each and every one of you signed a contract with the U.S. Army, which means your asses belong to me,” shouted the sergeant. His eyes scanned the soldiers with no more than a passing glance, as though he already considered them obsolete. “Your mommies can’t help you now. So if any of you pussies don’t want to be here, you can kiss my red, white, and blue behind. Now secure the building and welcome to hell.”
About the Author
D L (Deborah Louise) Richardson is an author of Young Adult fiction. She has run a secondhand clothing store and was bass player/lead vocalist in a band she helped form. Today she is a writer. The Bird With The Broken Wing is her debut novel. She lives in Australia on the NSW South Coast with her husband and dog. When she’s not writing or reading she can be found practicing her piano, playing the guitar or walking the dog.
Find the author Online
Website: www.dlrichardson.com
Email: dlrichardsonbooks@bigpond.com
Blog: dlrichardsonwrites.blogspot.com
Facebook: facebook.com/dlrichardsonbooks
Twitter: twitter.com/#!/DLRichardson1
You Tube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QrESzj...
Follow the Rest of the Tour!
May 21, 2012
Pavlov’s Dog Blog Tour
Okay… being a psychology major, I’m totally into classical conditioning. But is it me? Or has something gone horribly wrong with the dog in this experiment? My husband’s dog is starting to look like Kujo these days with all the facial hair falling out. Hubby says it’s allergies, but I’m starting to wonder…
Well, that’s another story. Today we have Thom Brannan with us as he shares a bit about his writing.
WEREWOLVES
Dr. Crispin has engineered the saviors of mankind: Pavlov’s Dogs, a team of soldiers capable of transforming into fearsome beasts. But when Crispin and his team welcome a new talented neurotechnician to the island, Dr. Crispin quickly realizes his masterwork has fallen into the hands of a man he does not trust.
ZOMBIES
Back on the mainland, Ken Bishop and his best friend Jorge get caught in a traffic jam on their way home from work. There’s a wreck up ahead. And something worse. The first sign of a major outbreak—and Ken and Jorge are stuck in the gridlock. They quickly realize they not only need to escape, but they also need to save as many people as possible on the way.
ARMAGEDDON
Now Dr. Crispin and his team must make a terrible decision. Should they send the Dogs out into the zombie apocalypse to rescue survivors? Or should they listen to the new neurotechnician, who would have them hoard their resources and post the Dogs as island guards?
Available at Barnes & Nobles || The Book Depository || Amazon
CAUTION: I TEND TO RAMBLE
Thom Brannan here. I’m one of the authors of Pavlov’s Dogs, with D.L. Snell, and would like to speak with the readers of this blog for a moment about my start in writing in general, Pavlov’s Dogs in particular, and why I should probably never do this.
I got my start with horror, even though I really want to be Robert B. Parker, he who created Spenser and Jessie Stone and Sunny Randall. Most of my early reading was icky boy stuff, like all the Robert E. Howard co-authored Conan stories, or Stephen King, or Isaac Asimov. Of the three, I didn’t think I could write a sword-and-sorcery thing, because while I had my fair share of being in fights (I was a minority in my school along the Texas/Mexico border) I didn’t have a lot of experience winning. And the science fiction was great, but I didn’t feel smart enough to make things work in a story. I was keenly aware of the difference between Star Wars and Star Trek, and I didn’t want to have to deal with people telling me I was wrong, physics doesn’t work that way.
But I knew what scared me, and other people. That, I had a solid hold on.
The time came to write something for English class, and my teacher (Mrs. Isela V. Gonzalez) had us working on something for The Canterbury Tales. Everyone was working on their character and the tale they were going to tell on the road with the other pilgrims, and I sat in class all week, wondering what the hell I was going to do. That Friday, I went home and looked at a 3-D poster on my wall of Dracula, flanked by a wolf and a bat, and I couldn’t stop smiling.
I would write a vampire story.
And so I did, pounding it out on my dad’s Commodore-64 all day Saturday. The stack of dot-matrix printed paper I brought into class was… hefty. And it was only marginally good, but I had been bitten by the bug. Unfortunately, the symptoms went into remission rather quickly, and I didn’t write again for a very long while. In the intervening years, I picked up a book called Double Deuce in the ship’s library of the USS Los Angeles (SSN-688) and devoured it cover to cover. I recognized the names on the cover, Spenser and Hawk, from the television show, Spenser: For Hire. I was hooked. When we pulled back into port, and I had time, I raided the book stores for the rest of the Spenser series.
This, this crime business. I loved it. And after finding that Parker had followed in the footsteps of Raymond Chandler and Dashiell Hammett, I had to read them, too. I had loved the Spenser television show, as well as The Equalizer, and I will but only briefly mention The Green Hornet Greenway show, because I have been known to run off at the mouth about that quite a bit. I loved it.
So when I sat down to write again, it was with a character that would fit in with those other Private Eyes I had read so much about: the Continental Op, Spenser, Philip Marlowe, Sam Spade, the Hornet. Except…
Things kept happening to him in the stories that never happened in The Maltese Falcon, or The Big Sleep. There was always something in the story that went bump in the night, and finally I just stopped fighting it. Horror Noir it was.
Fast-forward a decade, and now I have a book on the (virtual) shelves with D.L. Snell called Pavlov’s Dogs. But even now, I’m dragging my past with me. The book’s main regular-joe is a guy named Ken, and he’s read the same stuff I have, and he likes to see himself as a kind of character like Spenser, or even Conan. He’s got his own sense of wrong and right, and he acts accordingly, regardless of the personal cost. His best friend and employee Jorge isn’t any of those things, but he’s good on the inside, where it counts. Even though it’s hard to see through his layers of bullshit.
I should say D.L. Snell had a very large hand where it comes to actually fleshing out these characters. Without his clear vision and constant reminders that we need these characters to be people on the page, not just in my head, who knows how this would have turned out?
Thanks for letting me spend some time on your blog, and I hope it was okay, that I didn’t bore you. I tend to ramble sometimes, and that’s why I should never be allowed to have a blog. You should see me as I type this, all wincing and rubbing my hands together, trying not to run over my allotted space and just talk, talk, talk. It’s very difficult. I’m mouthy.
I remain,
Thom Brannan
About the Authors
THOM BRANNAN (est. 1976) has been a submariner, a nuclear operator, an electrician and now works on an offshore drilling platform. He lives in or around Austin, Texas, with his lovely wife, Kitty, a boy, a girl, a cat and a dog.
D.L. SNELL is an acclaimed novelist from the Pacific Northwest. Anthologies include Pocket Books’ Blood Lite series, edited by best-selling author Kevin J. Anderson. Snell’s first novel, Roses of Blood on Barbwire Vines, also attained critical acclaim from popular novelists such as New York Times bestselling author Jonathan Maberry. Visit his website at dlsnell.com.
Follow the rest of the tour!
05/20/2012 Kayla at Bibliophilia, Please Guest Blog
05/21/2012 Mel at Journey with Words Bio/Synopsis/Excerpt
05/22/2012 Reena at Ramblings of an Amateur Writer Guest Blog
05/23/2012 Jess at Wonderland Reviews Review
05/24/2012 Vanessa at The Jeep Diva Guest Blog
05/25/2012 Jessica at Wickedly Bookish Bio/Synopsis/Excerpt,
05/26/2012 Susan at My Cozie Corner Review
May 20, 2012
Short Story Review: Someone Else, Somewhere Else
I don’t do very many reviews these days, but when presented with the blurb of Someone Else, Somewhere Else by Jenelle Jack Pierre, my interest perked. I loved the cover art. It has a youthful freshness to it and makes me think of innocence in the world. Then when I found out Someone Else, Somewhere Else was a short story, I was totally in. Before the review, the blurb.
“Though we were four years younger than Ariya, we’d watched teenagers before at an older cousin’s house. They talked on the phone, they texted their boyfriends, they watched movies on DVDs. Sometimes, they tidied up the house by wiping the table with a damp sponge after feeding us, removing the crumbs and ring spots from the bottom of our glasses. But we’d never seen any of them work like Ariya did.”
Twin sisters. Stepdaughters. Neighbours. In this short fiction, the lives of the twins are forever changed when their mother remarries and they move next door to a family unlike their own. Could their lives have been different with a flip of a coin?
The first thing I noticed about this work was the narrative. I don’t recall ever reading a work in first person plural. This story was told from the perspective of both the twins, which doubly interesting because the twin girls (main characters) in the story were nameless. The narrative was presented in such a way it gave the two girls a collective thought. For me, the over all effect made Someone Else, Somewhere Else a worthy read if only for analysis.
As for the story itself, Someone Else, Somewhere Else was thought provoking. Not only was it a reminder we don’t get to pick the families we’re born into, but that children have even less say in the hand they’re dealt. They get what they get and adjust the best they can. I finished this story wondering if I protected my children effectively from the harm always around the corner, and hoping their childhood memories will be filled with enough joy to outweigh the bad.
This read left me with a bittersweet sadness, and I hoped Ariya found happiness in her choices. I say if you have 20-30 minutes of spare time, check out this read.
Last I checked, this is a free read. Don’t miss your opportunity to try it out.
Available at Barnes & Nobles || Smashwords || Amazon
Also, be sure to return on Thursday. Jenelle Jack Pierre will be here for an interview!
May 19, 2012
Chasing Shadows – Making Amends (4)
Welcome to installment #4 of the Chasing Shadows – Making Amends series. For more information or to read the previous scene, head to this page.
Chapter 1
Scene 4
A trickle of light crept up Kecil’s legs and teased her awake. Slowly the events of the prior night washed over her like a fragmented nightmare. Her chest clenched tight as hollowness consumed her and blotted out any brightness the sun offered. She fought for every agonizing breath, wanting the Great Spirt to claim her and send her into the comforting arms of her mother.
Despite her wishes, life continued with Kecil in it, but eventually the aching grip in her chest eased. She rolled to her back and concentrated on the thick canopy of leaves, let the ambience of the forest quiet her tormented soul.
Before long, she noticed a peculiar smell, slightly sweet and familiar but with a hint of decay. Kecil rose to her feet and brushed away the dirt caked on her stinging shoulder—the least of her pain—and traced the scent to a Goliath of a tree. She circled the trunk and found a dead binturong laying in the dirt, its back twisted abnormally.
She stepped closer.
“Rwarrrr.”
Kecil jumped back and stumbled to the ground. Her heart thudded against her ribcage as she scrambled backward, but her heels found no traction and scraped ineffectively against the dirt.
From behind the corpse, a miniature whiskered face appeared and hissed—a baby binturong no larger than a newborn wehr-tiger cub.
Kecil sat frozen, waiting for her body to catch up with her mind and recognized the threat as minimal. She forced her heart and breathing to slow, then took a deep breath and returned with cautious steps, her hand outstretched and shaking.
The civet’s fur bristled. Hisses turned to growls as its thin black lips pulled back revealing tiny fanged teeth.
“It’s okay. I’m alone too.” Only inches away, she jerked back as the binturong snapped at her fingers. She tackled the cub, clamping its mouth shut with one hand while holding it tight to her body.
The baby raked and thrashed for freedom, scratching her stomach and arms, but in the end the small cub’s size was no match for her. Defeated, its struggles slowed though its body remained tense.
“That’s better,” Kecil cooed and released its muzzle, letting her hand slide over its head.
The little civet turned to sneak in a bite but missed. Eyes wide, teeth bared, the cub snarled as she petted. Eventually it quieted, turning its head into the caresses.
“I’ll take care of you now,” she said.
“Find him! He couldn’t have gone far.” Gemuk’s voice called out.
Kecil scanned the area and located the small handful of adult males in her clan combing the area—all were accounted for, except her father. If he’d been here keeping vigilance over his territory, her mother would be here today… alive and waiting in the hut. Kecil’s teeth ached as she clenched them. Why did he leave us unprotected?
“What are you doing out here?”
Kecil spun around to face the speaker—Kasut. She craned her neck to look at the giant of a wehr-tiger, tall like her father, like all of the males in the clan.
His eyes flicked to the binturong in her hands. “Go back to the village. It’s not safe.”
“Did you find him?” Gemuk approached, breathing heavily through his mouth. He focused on her, and his eyes shifted to the birthmark which encompassed her entire shoulder. “Get that runt out of here. She’s nothing but trouble… like her mother.”
Kecil’s eyes smarted, and she fought to swallow the lump welling in her throat.
“The killer escaped.” Kasut nodded toward the village. “Get out of here.”
Kecil edged by the two males and ran. Leaving behind the scrutiny of Gemuk, she sought the safety of the village, her prize in hand.
New Release: One Bite to Passion by MaryLynn Bast
Surprise!
Yesterday, MaryLynn Bast had an early release. Please welcome One Bite to Passion into the world! I’m going to have to ask Ms. Bast about the Chinese symbols on the cover. What does it mean?!?!
On a business trip to Japan, Paige has just found happiness with Casey, an exciting, young man with a passionate interest in Paige. After a night of wild sex, feels like a new woman. Drawn to Casey, Page can’t refuse him even though he says he wants to possess her and she learns he is a vampire. Then Paige’s unfaithful husband, Dalton, shows up. He has supposedly broken off his affair, but Paige suspects he is still seeing his mistress. Soon, Paige begins to notice disturbing things happening around her and discovers she has become the center of a battle between covens who consider her The Chosen One. But when she faces the greatest peril of her life, and Casey shows up to help, Page realizes she is willing fight the covens side-by-side with him, if it means the chance of a future with this vampire she has come to love.
Available at Renaissance
Upcoming Blog Tour
Mark your calendar, because a blog tour for One Bite to Passion is in the making. From June 3 – June 9, there be interviews, giveaways, and book reviews. Don’t miss out. For more information head to MaryLynn Bast’s blog!
May 18, 2012
New Release: Talisman of El (Talisman of El, #1) by Alecia Stone
Happy Release day!
The blog tour is over, but the fun’s just begun. Today marks the release day for The Talisman of El by Alecia Stone. Woot!
WHAT IF YOUR WHOLE LIFE WAS A LIE?
One Planet.
Two Worlds.
Population: Human … 7 billion.
Others … unknown.
When 14-year-old Charlie Blake wakes up sweating and gasping for air in the middle of the night, he knows it is happening again. This time he witnesses a brutal murder. He’s afraid to tell anyone. No one would believe him … because it was a dream. Just like the one he had four years ago – the day before his dad died.
Charlie doesn’t know why this is happening. He would give anything to have an ordinary life. The problem: he doesn’t belong in the world he knows as home.
He belongs with the others.
Available at Barnes & Nobles || The Book Depository
May 17, 2012
Guest Post: Janice Seagraves
Today we have Janice Seagraves, author of Windswept Shores, here to share with us. First, I want to introduce you to her latest novel, Windswept. I totally love the colors on the cover.
The sole survivor of a plane crash, Megan is alone on a deserted island in the Bahamas until she finds a nearly-drowned man washed up on shore. Another survivor, this time from a boat wreck. With only meager survival skills between them, will they survive and can they find love?
Windswept Shores available for $4.95 at Barnes & Nobles || Smashwords || Amazon || Pink Petal Books
Guest Post by Janice Seagraves
Hi, my name is Janice Seagraves.
Someone recently asked me why I decided to write. I gave the usual flippant answer that the characters in my head wouldn’t leave me alone. Which to be honest is more or less true.
But actually I blame my insomnia.
As far back as I can remember I’ve had trouble falling asleep. My own grandmother used to say that I sleep less than any baby she knew, and Grandma was a mother of eight.
At a very young age I started making up stories to pass the time. I’d close my eyes and imagine I was someone else having an adventure.
The “what happened next” had started innocently enough. My parents had taken my sister and me out to a movie. On the drive home, I asked my mom, “What happened next.” She told me to make up an ending.
So I did.
It became a habit with me to think of an alternative ending to a movie that I didn’t like, or one that had a wimpy ending. Or just what happened next.
Then I started to think up brand new stories. I never wrote any of these down, but I would draw pictures.
Hey, I was young and truthfully I didn’t have a lot of faith in my grammar or spelling.
I finally started to write when I was twenty years old. The stories in my head had started to grow and I had to write them down just to remember them all. I’ve written short stories to larger pieces over the years, all having to do with the question: what happened next.
Then about eleven years ago I tried to take a class in accounting, but my daughter started to have trouble in school. My hubby and I decided I was still needed at home. Giving up the class wasn’t a problem. Apparently I don’t have “the right stuff” to be an accountant. Go figure.
Then I got the bright idea to start to write seriously toward publication.
I started to study the craft of writing. It was hard at first, because I hadn’t so much as taken a writing course. So I bought several books and got a couple of subscriptions to writing magazines. Then I took a correspondence course.
Later I finally got online and the whole world opened up for me. I got a blog, joined writing groups, writer’s forums, took (yippee) workshops and made friends with other writers.
Someone suggest I join a new group called Avoid Writer’s Hell, started by Faith Bicknell-Brown. The owner had written four books with the same title as the group, to help writers. (Sadly, the group no longer exists, but the books with Faith’s invaluable advice are still available.)
I learned so much from this group and had so much encouragement that I finally entered a writing contest. It was for a cover that I thought would fit a manuscript that I had wrote the year before, called Windswept Shores. It’s about what happened next after a terrible plane crash.
To my surprise I not only won, but I was also offered a contract.
Excerpt from Windswept Shores
If she had to spend one more day on this godforsaken island, she’d go stark raving mad. The thought spurred Megan into rolling a large log with one foot then the other, until it was near the bonfire. “God, this thing is heavy.” With a grunt, she lifted one end until it teetered upright then gave it a shove. It landed in the fire, embers swirling in the air.
Breathing hard, she flicked a glance at the teal-colored sea. She’d thought a vacation to the Bahamas would be the perfect getaway, would be a solution to the problems she and Jonathan had faced. She’d been wrong—dead wrong. Tears of grief filled her eyes. The never-ending crash of the waves on the beach and the cries of the seagulls seemed to mock her with the reminder she was utterly alone.
She’d felt like a tiny speck of sand last night when a violent storm had swept across the island. It had made a mess of her meager campsite, which had taken all morning to fix, and had demolished her seaweed SOS sign. She’ll have to recreate her SOS. Sighing, Megan trudged toward a pile of kelp. As she got closer, she saw a figure wearing blue jeans and a t-shirt. Her stomach lurched.
Oh, God, it’s another body washed up from the plane wreck. That would be number twelve. As always, she couldn’t help but wonder if the next one would be Jonathan. He hadn’t been wearing jeans on the plane, so she knew she’d been spared seeing his corpse this time. Thank God. She approached the body with dread. Tightening her resolve, she knelt. Suddenly the “dead body” coughed and rolled over. With a scream, Megan jumped back. She clutched her chest and pressed a shaking hand to her mouth.
He’s alive!
Biting her lip, she stared down at the still-breathing man. His drenched t-shirt molded against his broad shoulders and well developed upper body. Short, golden brown hair stuck out in all directions.
Megan, get control of yourself. Don’t wet your pants the first time you finally see a living person. She got on her knees, plucked the seaweed from him and wiped the sand from his face. His day-old whiskers scratched her palm. Reddened skin stretched across both cheekbones and over the bridge of his nose. Her thumb caressed his parched full bottom lip.
She patted the side of his face. “Hey, are you okay?” That’s a dumb question. He isn’t okay.
“Hmm?” Gray eyes fluttered open. He stared at her a long moment, frowning slightly. “G’day.”
“Hello there.” She hated the sound of her voice. It sounded rusty, unused.
Abruptly he rolled away from her to heave onto the sand, making a loud, ugly retching noise.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then looked at her. “Sorry, mate, I swallowed too much sea.” His gaze went over her shoulder in the direction of the bonfire which crackled and popped not far from them. “Mite big for a barbie.”
Sitting back on her heels with her hands folded in her lap, Megan followed his gaze, then back to him. “My signal fire.”
“Signal for what?”
“Help.”
His accent intrigued her. Was he English or Australian?
“G’darn,” he looked around, “where the bloody hell am I?”
“Don’t know. There’s no one here to ask.” Megan shrugged helplessly, but couldn’t contain her curiosity. “Are you from England?”
“Naw,” he rubbed his eyes, “I hail from Sidney, but my port of call these days is Fort Lauderdale.” He blinked up at her. “You?”
Ah, he’s an Aussie. “I’m Megan Lorry, from Anaheim, California,” she said, barely loud enough to be heard above the sounds of the surf and the roar from the fire. “Are you a survivor of Air Bahamas flight 227, too?”
“G’day, Megz,” he answered, struggling to sit-up. “Sorry, I’m not from your plane.”
Megan slipped an arm around him lifting his back off the sand. Turning his head to her hair, he took in a couple of short breaths. Megan pulled back staring at him. “What the—did you just sniff me?”
“Ya smell too good not to.” He grinned, causing his cheeks to dimple. “Name’s Seth Dawson.” Leaning back on one arm, he stretched out his hand to her. She clasped it as if it was just a friendly greeting between strangers back home.
“Me mate’s fishing boat hit a reef during the big squall last night. That’s when I took a tumble ‘T’ over ‘A’ overboard.” He took a deep breath, let it out slow, then glanced up and down the beach. “Somehow I made it here ‘out the back of Burke.’”
“Oh dear, that’s terrible,” she sympathized. Does he mean the middle of nowhere?
“Blimey, I’m weak as a babe.” Seth managed to get to his knees, before stopping to pant. He licked cracked lips. “Megz, do you have any water on ya?”
“Yes, back at my camp. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.” Meg hurried off down the beach.
He called after her, “Where the bloody hell would I be going, eh?”
About Janice Seagraves
I still reside in the same small California town, where I was born and grew up.
I live in a hundred year old haunted house (not kidding) with my husband of 30 years with our just grown daughter.
We are owned by one cat and two birds. Of the later, one is a handicapped dove and the other a pigeon that is in love with my husband (also not kidding).
I write romance of various genres. My first book, which is a contemporary romance, called Windswept shores, came out in June 2010.
My website: http://janiceseagraves.org/
My book trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t_r2NXKT0Sg
