Kimberly Kinrade's Blog, page 19

The Kiss of Life, a serial novel-Chapter 2-Clashing Fates

Forgive me for being off schedule with a post that should have gone out last Friday. Last week I had more mommy duties than usual and got behind on everything. Also, I’m thinking about changing the day I post each new chapter. Friday isn’t very popular. Would you rather see new chapters on Tue., Wed. or Thursday? Let me know!

New to this serial novel? Get caught up here.

WINNER ANNOUNCEMENT

Last week’s winner for the free ebook is: Mindy fanged mom. Comment this week for a chance to win your own free book!

Each week, I’ll randomly draw a name from the comments, and that person will get a free ebook. You can choose from Forbidden Mind, Lexie World, Bits of You & Pieces of Me or wait and get The Kiss of Life free once it’s edited and published! Once it’s published, I will also have another drawing with a paperback and bookmark giveaway!

And now:

Chapter 2–Clashing Fates

[image error]My best friends, Chelsea and Miranda, swarm me as soon as Mr. Grove drops me off in front of the school. Birkham School for the Gifted is not just an ordinary prep school, it’s a tiny (and by tiny I mean 500 students total… and that includes kindergarten to high school seniors) school for the very wealthy or the very, very brilliant. Usually both.

Chelsea grabs my arm and drags me towards the entrance. Her short, black hair swishes around her face as she turns to look at me. “Well, did she let you drop it?”

“Technically, not so much.” Chelsea’s lips form a pout, but her piercing green eyes form angry slits. I hold up my hand to keep the Chelsea temper at bay for just a moment longer so I can explain. “I have a reprieve. If I really hate it after the first week, I can transfer. She’ll make the call.”

The high-pitched screech that my best friend emits as she squeezes me doesn’t sound human.

Miranda giggles and joins the hug. “I’m so glad. Mr. Posthumus is so dreadful, and it’s such a boring class, I’ve heard. Besides, we couldn’t put out the school newspaper without you. I can’t even believe she made you take all those classes you hate. This is supposed to be the best year ever.”

The three of us march into the formidable school building, which glowers over us like a disapproving British grandfather with too much money and not enough heart. Still, I love this place that’s been a second home for me since kindergarten, and I love my friends who are more like sisters.

Chelsea tugs at my braid. “You should just cut it and deal with the consequences later. What can she do? Force your hair to grow magically?”

Miranda sighs and strokes my hair. “It’s so soft. Mine is a mess of wild, angry, forest fire curls. I’d kill for your hair and skin.”

It drives me nuts how insecure she always is about her red hair and freckles. “Miranda, you are so stunning. I don’t get how you don’t see it.”

She shrugs and we make our way to our lockers looking like the mismatched trio our favorite teachers affectionately labeled us in grade school.

I wouldn’t have even noticed the new guy, at least not right away, but his locker is right above mine and as I put my new books in a neat row and check my make-up, he leans over me and fidgets with his lock.

His scent surrounds me and fills me with images of the woods and gardens filled with wild flowers. There’s something familiar and dangerous about him and I look up just as he looks down at me. He moves back a space, but not enough to give me proper breathing room. His dark eyes penetrate into me, probing my secrets, but I have none to give. My life is boring and ordinary and I feel a sudden desire to have some secret, some unshared part of myself that I can offer him.

What a silly thought! I mentally slap myself and try to keep my head together. It’s not like he’s the first hot guy I’ve ever talked to and I’m not some damsel in distress stuck in a fairytale or romance novel. He just surprised me, that’s all. I ignore the accelerated beating of my heart and sweaty palms and pretend that I am my normal, confident self.

Chelsea and Miranda are mesmerized as well, but he doesn’t look at them, only me. And the look in his eyes–it’s as if he knows me. But I would remember if I’d ever met him before, of that I’m very sure!

I open my mouth to say something, anything to break the silence, but before I can utter a single word, he turns sharply and walks away. My body is frozen for another few seconds before it collapses into itself and my lungs finally expand with fresh oxygen.

Chelsea takes a breathe before speaking. “Oh. My. God. Who is he? Why didn’t we hear about a new student? He has got to be the hottest guy I’ve ever seen. And, Aurora, did you see how he was looking at you? He has got it bad!”

Heat enflames my face and I look for my lost voice. “He’s… okay. But very rude. He should have at least said something. Introduced himself or… or something.” I sound like a stuttering fool. Indignation rises in me and I cling to it like a life preserver. Better that than the alternative.

Miranda giggles. “He was speechless–clearly in shock at your beauty.”

I roll my eyes at her. “Please. I’m surrounded by the two hottest girls at school. I doubt I stood out like that. He’s probably some rich jerk who thinks he’s too good to talk to anyone else.”

My friends look confused at my uncharacteristic unkindness, but I ignore them and change the subject. “I have to get to class. Unfortunately. Will you make sure to tell Miss Bell that I’ll be in Journalism starting next week? I don’t want her to think I’m not coming and give my work to someone else.”

They both nod and walk in the opposite direction towards their class. Chelsea turns around briefly and locks eyes with me. “Don’t discount that guy, Aurora. He’s got some kind of connection to you, I can feel it.”

I nod. “Sure, okay. See you later.” I shiver as I head to class. Chelsea could be a professional matchmaker. Maybe it’s the gypsy in her blood, but she’s always had an extra sense about things, and if she feels something is up with Mr. Mysterious, then it probably is. I just don’t want to think about it.

Dread fills me as I open the door and look for a seat. This is the last class in the world I want to be in, but I have to give it at least a week. I know Aunt Mira won’t back down on that. I make my way to the back and pick a seat that I hope will keep all attention off of me. I plan to be as invisible as possible until I can transfer.

The room begins to fill and I recognize everyone, of course. I’ve been in school with most of them my whole life. Others transferred in over the last few years or for high school, but there are no other new student surprises waiting for me. I smile and wave at my classmates, but I pull out a book and keep it open so no one tries to initiate conversation. I’m not staying, so why get cozy with the others?

I quickly lose myself in the world Patrick Rothfuss has created in Name of the Wind. I love all things fantasy and epic fantasy and feel more at home in these worlds than in my own.

I’m so caught up in the stories and prose of my book that I don’t realize the seat next to me is occupied until his scent assaults me again. Woods and wild flowers.  I realize in that moment why it’s so familiar to me–why his scent stirs something in me.

He smells like my dreams–the visions of another world, another land with woods and wild flowers, with a different kind of smell and feel–this boy brings all that back and my head spins with the possibility of what it means.

I shove it aside. Of course it means nothing except that I have an overactive imagination and should perhaps spend less time writing fantastical stories and more time living in the real world, where sexy boys do not represent anything beyond the obvious–a complication I don’t need.

I finally break free of my own thoughts to face him, but he’s already staring at me with that familiar look that speaks of histories we don’t share but which I still feel. How can this be?

He doesn’t look away or try to hide his interest, but he doesn’t speak either. I don’t know what to make of this boy with his midnight blue eyes boring into me. He runs his hand through his artfully disheveled dark hair in what I assume is a nervous gestures, but his sculpted face reveals nothing of his thoughts. The awkward silence unnerves me, so I fall back on the manners my aunt instilled in me.

I hold out my hand. “Hello, I’m Aurora Pendor. Welcome to our school.”

My lonely hand shakes a bit from nerves as I wait to see if he’ll grab it or ignore it. Will he touch me? Suddenly I wish I had just introduced myself without the handshake. The prospect of making skin contact with him sends my already flayed nerves into overdrive.

I’m just about to pull back when his cool, smooth hand wraps around mine. The instant our skin connects a wave of energy crashes into me. Electricity ripples on my skin in tiny bolts of fire, and flashes of another time and place consume my thoughts. His eyes widen in shock and he pulls his hand back. I’m sure my face looks similarly alarmed.

My mind clears once the contact is broken and I wonder at the disjointed images I saw when we touched.

He looks at his hand and looks back at me. His voice comes out in a harsh whisper. “Who are you?”

I stammer my response, still flustered by what has just happened. “I… I… just told you. I’m Aurora. Who are you?”

“I’m Keir. I just moved here with my mother from… Europe. You’re Aurora?”

His response confuses me. Does he know of me somehow? That doesn’t make sense. “Yes, why? Have we met before? I don’t think we have.”

Before he can reply, the teacher walks in and the bell rings. Everyone falls silent. I’m stunned as a beautiful woman in a black skirt and red silk blouse walks to the front of the room. Her pale skin shimmers as if sprinkled with fairy dust and her long black hair is pulled up in a bun. Her ruby lips part, and pause, before speaking.

She looks straight at me as she introduces herself to the class. “Hello students. I’m Miss Keller and I’ll be your new teacher this year. I know you will all miss Mr. Posthumus, but he had an unfortunate accident and will not be with us this year. I hope I will serve as a suitable substitute.”

I could feel the room clog with hormones from every teenage boy in class–except Keir. He frowned and crossed his arms. He looked detached and–angry.

I look from him to our new teacher and back. Why does Keir hate Miss Keller? And why do they both feel so familiar?

***

It’s my birthday, but I’m giving YOU presents. Click here to find out how you can win an Amazon GC, signed copies of my books and more! Plus, all of my books will be on sale for only 99cents this Monday, April 30th. Click on the books below to read more about my published work.

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My Unbreakable Heart: Part 4: Nights of Insanity

[image error]It was 10 p.m.

He still wasn’t home.

Dinner was cold. I was fuming.

This was our date night. He was due home at 7. His phone went straight to voicemail. I felt impotent and powerless. Not feelings I enjoyed all that much. #understatement

We’d only been married a few months and already our lives were tail-spinning out of control. He hadn’t been deployed to fight in Iraq the day we got married. Instead, he had brought the war home.

We fought all the time. I was miserable. He was distant and hard.

I couldn’t figure out where the misstep was. How had we gone from madly in love to just mad in such a short span?

In abject defeat I curled up on the couch crying while the candles on our kitchen table melted to nothing.

The door creaked open at 2:30 a.m. My eyes were nearly swollen shut from tears of self-pity. He stunk of cigarettes and alcohol–and he had that look. The look that spoke of hard liquor, even more than the smell and the uneven footsteps and the glossy eyes and lag in fine motor expressions. No amount of over-enunciation could wipe away the evidence that he was drunk off his ass. Again.

All the tears I had shed in my first few lonely months of marriage boiled to the surface, spewing out of me in rage and hate.

“You are drunk.”

“I just had a few beers.”

“Right, a few beers. You’re a drunk and a liar. And you broke our date.”

“Get off my back. I’m gonna do what I want, when I want and with whoever I want.”

“And me? Us?”

He swayed, grabbed the keys he’d left on the table and started stumbling toward the door.

“I don’t have to take this shit.”

He was planning on driving? Was he crazy? I didn’t even know how he made it home. He would kill himself. Or worse, someone else. I reached for his arm, tried to stop him from leaving.

He shook me off.

I forced myself between him and the door.

“You can’t drive like this. You’re drunk. Give me the keys.”

“Get away from me.”

Looking in his face, I couldn’t see in it the man I had vowed to love, honor and cherish til death do us part. All I saw was ice cold hate. It chilled me to know that he could turn on me so quickly. That I could become an enemy without any warning.

He tried to force me from the door. He was drunk, but still stronger. I started losing ground. He slammed me onto the floor and, using wrestling moves he had perfected in high school, he pinned me and began choking me.

I’ve never had an out of body experience, but this was close. Some part of my mind broke away, and I saw myself become this victim. Helpless. Abused. I fought him. Kicked. Tried to get away. I couldn’t move.

I was trained in martial arts, but how do you kick an opponent who has you pinned? I didn’t know wrestling. Clearly there were gaps in my training.

My throat hurt. I couldn’t breathe. My mind split again as I considered what would happen if this went too far. If he crushed my windpipe. If he killed me.

Before I could complete the thought I felt the world fade away. Then the pain eased, the door slammed and tires screeched.

He was gone.

That first time it happened, I don’t know how long I stayed on the floor–trying to breathe–trying to remember who I was.

He was gone for three days. I waited. Worried. Thought. Planned. Agonized.

I did everything but leave.

It was the first of many nights. A macabre dance that always left me breathless and waiting. Nights interspersed with passion and apologies and promises to change.

Nights of insanity. My mind kept splitting and I kept waiting.

And then one night I had a dream that changed everything.

This is the fourth part of a 10-part series on domestic violence and relationships based on my life. Please come back next Monday for the next post, Baby Steps , or follow my blog or sign up to receive email updates. You can also like my Facebook Pagefor updates on my blog, my books and more. To get caught up, start with Part 1: Why We Stay.

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It’s MY birthday but I’m giving YOU presents!

My birthday is just around the corner… April 29th, to be exact. I’ll be… erm… 23. Again.

Moving on.

I wanted to do something special for my birthday, something to say thank you to all my awesome and loyal friends and fans! So, I’ve decided to do a major deal and giveaway!

For starters, on April 30th, all of my books will be on sale, one day only, for just 99cents.

If there’s a book you’ve been wanting to buy, this would be the day! Here’s a run down of what you can find. (And I picked the 30th because my birthday is a Sunday, which is the deadest day on the internet.)

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Do you love award-winning Young Adult paranormal fiction? Check out the first two books of my Forbidden Trilogy.

Paranormal teens with unimaginable powers. An evil organization with deep secrets. When Sam, a girl who reads minds, meets a boy who controls minds, she discovers her future isn’t what she thought.

Forbidden Mind (Book 1) She reads minds. He controls minds. Together, they might get out alive.

Forbidden Fire (Book 2) She escaped, but she’ll never be free.

Do you have young readers who would love engaging chapter books with full color illustrations? The Three Lost Kids might be just what you need!

The Three Lost Kids series takes readers to worlds unexplored and adventures untold, where they meet magical creatures, go on epic quests and learn important life lessons for their everyday world!

Lexie World (Book 1 of The Three Lost Kids) Lexie World is being destroyed by Garbage Goblins and only Lexie can stop them… by retrieving the Mirror of Ice and breaking their curse. Join Lexie and her sisters as she faces her fears and learn an important lesson about caring for the environment.

Bella World (Book 2 of The Three Lost Kids) Bella learns to deal with her anger and forgive others when she and her sisters discover that Bella World is under attack from a Dragon… and the three lost kids have to stop it!

For those who knew me then… there’s one more book.

Bits of You & Pieces of Me

It’s not easy to categorize, it’s part short story anthology, part essay, part poetry. It’s only going to be on sale another month or so, then I will be pulling it for a major overhaul and republication through Evolved Publishing sometime late this year or next year.

But that’s not all. In addition to ridiculously low prices on my books, I’m also GIVING AWAY signed copies, ebooks, bookmarks and a $10 GC to Amazon!

The giveaway will run through April 30th and I will announce the winners on May 1st.

Prizes

Grand Prize: Signed copies of Forbidden Mind, Forbidden Fire, Lexie World and Bella World plus bookmarks from each series and a $10 gift certificate to Amazon

Runner Ups: 5 winners will be chosen to receive a bookmark from each series and their choice of Forbidden Mind, Forbidden Fire, Lexie World or Bella World as an ebook.

**U.S. and Canadian residents only, unless you are willing to cover international shipping costs from Washington state, USA, then you may enter!

A reminder! Every Friday I do an ebook giveaway for one lucky commenter on my serial novel, The Kiss of Life. To read this YA urban fantasy as I write it, click here to start: Prologue, The Kiss of Life. Or click here to see all chapters available.

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A Movie About Second Chances Made Into A Book!

Today I’d like to welcome to my blog, Don Handfield, , author of Touchback, screenwriter and director of Touchback the major motion picture. Get Touchback the novel FREE on Amazon, today only here.

***

About Touchback

[image error]** NOW A MAJOR MOTION PICTURE **

WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF YOU GOT A SECOND CHANCE?

When Scott Murphy scored the winning touchdown in the 1991 state championship game, it should have launched a golden future—the full scholarship to Ohio State, the million-dollar signing bonus, marriage to the beauty queen, and NFL glory.

Instead, it all ended with a sickening pop as his leg shattered in four places. The next twenty years would be a study in Murphy’s Law—whatever could go wrong did. Just when things seem at their worst—he’s losing his farm, his relationship with his wife is crumbling—a miracle happens: Murphy gets a chance to reboot his life.

Back in his teenaged body in 1991, he realizes by changing his past, he can have the future he always wanted. Everything he lost is within his reach, even his high-school sweetheart.

But what about the devoted wife he left behind? Torn between two women—two lives—he can only choose one future. Murphy must decide if getting everything he’s ever wanted is worth giving up everything he’s ever had…

What came first, Touchback the book or Touchback the film?

Touchback began as a screenplay many, many years ago. It was written at a time of great personal turmoil (I was going through the end of my first marriage) and ended up being a breakthrough work for me, as things written in that state of heart usually are. The script got me signed with my first real agent, and was soon optioned by Goal Line Productions, a company owned by the family of football great John Madden, who wanted to produce it independently.

I did several passes at improving the script with them, but it never got off the ground. The option expired and the rights reverted back to me. A few years later, Warner Bros. wanted to produce it. We got close, but ultimately they chose to make We Are Marshall instead.

About a year after that, Morgan Creek came forward and was enthusiastic about making it with legendary TV director David Nutter at the helm. That, too, fell apart.

After the dust settled on the last failure, I was told Touchback was “dead.” The movie would never get made. There were two reasons why the movie was so hard to produce:

First, American football movies don’t play well overseas. Second, Touchback was, at its core, a Capra-esque love story. These kinds of films don’t get made much in Hollywood these days. The ones that do are based on books with built-in followings, and many of those are written by the same person—Nicholas Sparks.

It was this train of thought late one night that led me to Nicholas Sparks’ web site and blog. I had always been a fan of his work, and his personal story behind The Notebook inspired me. I decided that to get Touchback the movie made I would write Touchback the novel, hope it got published, and then pray it became a best seller.

Then, they would have to make the film.

My plan seems ridiculous now as I write this, but, in a way, it worked. I was 70,000 words into the manuscript when I got a call from the company that ended up financing the movie—Freedom Films. Though I had never shared the novel with anyone at that point, I will always believe the act of writing the book helped to will the movie into existence.

So, I put the novel aside and went on to make the movie, but, because I had done so much work on the book, I retained the rights to publish it when I made the film deal.

The production rewrite I did on the film before it shot used a lot of elements that weren’t from the original script, but were born in the act of writing the novel. In fact, throughout the process, one informed the other.

After the film was completed it was picked up for distribution. When we got our release date of April 13, 2012 I realized I had 70,000 orphaned words collecting  cyber dust. It occurred to me that if I didn’t publish the book by the time the movie came out it was never going to happen.

United Talent Agency, the company that represents me as a writer and director also represents some of the best authors in the business, including two of my personal favorites—Nicholas Sparks and Wally Lamb. I approached my agents there about helping me find a publisher for Touchback the novel and the response was an enthusiastic yes, we can help you get it published—in two years!

So began my crash course in self-publishing.

I set to work refining the manuscript, building it out and getting it ready for publication. I was fortunate to find a wonderful editor named Alice Peck to help me get the book into shape. Alice steered me to the team at novelpublicity.com, which has been a great help in navigating the oxymoron that is modern book publishing. It is both an arcane and technologically challenging undertaking, but ultimately liberating.

Books are the one artistic medium that can truly be authored. You are the talent, and often the director, the producer, and the distributor (with a little help from Amazon) as well. It’s truly an amazing time to be a writer, and the stories of other self-published authors I’ve come across (from John Locke to James Redfield to Thomas Paine to James Joyce) in the process of pursuing this have been inspiring.

After years spent working in film and television, writing books is magical. If I want Bob Costas in my movie, I have to deal with studio executives asking me why I want Bob Costas when I could try for Bob DeNiro to play the sportscaster because he means more overseas. If I manage to clear that hurdle, I have to talk to Bob Costas’ agent, and then if he says no or we can’t afford him, it’s back to the drawing board. It’s a whole involved process that, at the end of the day, may or may not happen. And if I do happen to luck out and get Costas, he might forget his lines, not like me, or any number of other issues could prevent it from working out. And it doesn’t just apply to talent—one is constantly restricted in filmmaking by factors like location, budget, time and other factors beyond your control.

If I want Bob Costas in my book, it’s as simple as typing his name. He will always be there, on time, and speak every line I give him without complaint. If I want Bob Costas riding on a gorilla’s back and jumping from a skyscraper on a bungee cord, it’s just a matter of typing it. In a movie, there would be endless meetings, stunt doubles, green screen, and computer generated gorillas…the list goes on and on.

Note: Bob Costas is not in Touchback the movie, nor was he ever intended to be. He is however in the book. It’s a bit of a flight of fancy, but you can do that in books. It’s also important to note Bob Costas does not bungee in Touchback and there are no gorillas in the movie or book. And no animals were harmed in the making of either!

The whole process gave me so much respect for prose writers. It’s damn difficult work. Despite twenty years of screenwriting experience, ten of that professionally, writing prose is an art unto itself, and something I don’t take lightly. It’s a process I enjoy immensely, but have a long road ahead to master.

Want to see the trailer for the movie? It’s really cool! >> http://bit.ly/HVCTi2

TOUCHBACK free on Amazon

On Goodreads

My Unbreakable Heart: Part 3: Til Death Do Us Part

[image error]“Marry me?” he begged, his eyes so sincere and adoring.

I sat on the edge of his bed, still reeling from the cinematic horror I had just witnessed.

How could the two towers be gone? I wondered. All those people? All those lives? People I knew. I was supposed to have been in New York. I could have been in those towers.

“Kimberly?” his voice pulled me back to him.

“Hmm?”

“Marry me,” He repeated.

“We are getting married,” I reminded him, holding up his dog tags that hung around my neck. My engagement ring.

His pay and our whirl wind courtship didn’t allow for fancy jewelry. I didn’t mind. It was romantic. Exciting. Just like him. Our chemistry was nothing I’d ever imagined, let alone had. Soul mates, I’d thought. Destiny.

My friends and family questioned my sanity. I was more educated, worldly, liberal, a feminist. He did manual labor and was in the National Guard.

But I saw things they didn’t. He was well-read, brilliant in his own way. He was kind and sexy and made me laugh. When I looked in his eyes I saw my future. I couldn’t yet see the pain he would cause me.

We’d been inseparable since the night we’d met in the bar.

He adored me, looked at me as if I was the only woman on earth, worshiped my body with every inch of his. My face flushed at the thought of just how that worship had made me feel the night before.

“Kimberly, I just got the call,” he said, and my heart stopped. “I’m on two hour alert. I could be deployed to Iraq at any moment. Marry me today. I want to know you’re mine when I board that plane.”

Deployed? Leaving me? Iraq?

“No…” I muttered under my breath, tears leaking out of my eyes.

“No, you won’t marry me?” he asked thickly.

“No, I mean yes, I’ll marry you, but I don’t want you to leave. I’ve given up New York and the best college to be with you. You can’t leave me now.”

I felt pathetic. Desperate. Unlike myself entirely. It was a feeling I would come to know well over the next 10 years.

***

My wedding day was not what I had expected. It was planned in six hours and took place in a small chapel. Tears of blood stained the innocence of our union as the world mourned the loss of 9/11 victims.

I had a dress, a cake, blood red roses, and satin shoes. My husband-to-be spent our wedding day buying bullets and polishing guns.

That all disappeared the moment we stood face to face at the altar. Our eyes full of each other, promising to love, honor and cherish each other til death do us part.

It turns out, there are many kinds of deaths.

***

This is the third part of a 10-part series on domestic violence and relationships based on my life. Please come back next Monday for the next post, Nights of Insanity , or follow my blog or sign up to receive email updates. You can also like my Facebook Pagefor updates on my blog, my books and more. To get caught up, start with Part 1: Why We Stay.

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The Kiss of Life-Chapter 1-The Politics of Family

Every Friday, now known as “Fiction Friday,” I will post a new installment of my serial novel, The Kiss of Life. New to the series? Learn more and get started with the Prologue.

The Kiss of Life
Chapter 1–The Politics of Family

Present Day

Upper East Side, Manhattan, NY

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There’s something about New York in the fall that always makes me smile. After a scorching summer of too much sun, the crisp coolness in the air and the orange and red leaved trees lining the sidewalks are a welcome relief. I push aside the clean clothes piled high on my windowsill bench, hang my head out my window and breathe in the fresh morning.

If only I could muster the same enthusiasm for my first day of school.

While Aunt Mira scurries about in the kitchen making breakfast, I stare at myself in the full-length mirror. The reflection doesn’t do justice to my palatial room with its four-poster cherry wood bed with matching dresser, vanity and armoire. My room is fit for a princess, and I am entirely undeserving of it. I’ve done nothing for this wealth. We’re old money, my aunt says. Family money. But we have no family now, only the money.

I shrug off my melancholy, pull my long blond hair back and, with deft fingers, weave it into a French braid that falls to my waist. I don’t know why my aunt won’t let me cut it. All of my friends have short bobs and pixie cuts–long hair is so last year–but she insists it wouldn’t be proper, whatever that means.

I sigh, even though no one can hear me, adjust my navy skirt and matching jacket and apply a light layer of lip gloss. As good as it’s going to get in this monkey suit.

It’s ironic really. People argue that uniforms are useful for creating an equal base of power, where kids don’t use clothes as a status symbol. Right, because going to a private school on the Upper East Side of Manhattan with a tuition that rivals many people’s annual income is so equal opportunity.

My aunt’s voice carries through our grand apartment. “Aurora, breakfast is ready. Come on or you’ll be late.”

I check my wrist-watch and roll my eyes. I still have thirty minutes before I need to walk out the door. On the other hand, maybe I have enough time to make a case for a schedule change one last time.

I grab my backpack and stuff it with my new school books, my MacBook Air, iPhone and an extra sweater in case the day turns cold. My bed is a mess of tangled black and red sheets and blankets, and my room isn’t exactly tidy, but I close the door and block it out.

Aunt Mira may not like it, but it’s my room after all, ever since it served as my nursery. Peel back the lilac paint–which I hate–and somewhere deep enough my childhood bunny paintings still live.

The breakfast nook in our kitchen is covered in breakfast foods when I walk in, enough for a large family of hungry giants: whole grain toast, fresh berries, yogurt, granola, juice (both freshly squeezed oranges and a frothy pineapple), eggs, bacon and–as per usual–a jug of vitamins.

Aunt Mira stands in front of the sink with her black sleeves rolled up over her elbows as she dries her hands. She always wears long black dresses and her dark hair pulled back in a bun. Always. I wish she would get some color going on.

I sit down, fill a bowl with yogurt and granola and take a bite. “Aunt Mira, we can’t possibly eat this much food. It’s wasteful.”

She places ten different pills in front of me and pours me a cup of pineapple juice. “Drink up and take your vitamins. I’ll save the extra for Mr. Grove. I’m sure he’ll be famished when he returns from dropping you off at school.”

I eye the evil pills suspiciously and make a gagging noise. “First, I’ve never been a sick a day in my life. I haven’t even so much as scraped my knee. Not a drop of blood have I spilled from my pale skin.”

Aunt Mira gasps and covers her mouth. Color drains from her face.

My spoon falls to the table. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Her voice is strained. “Why would you say that, about your blood, why?”

“I was just waxing poetic, Aunt Mira. Why are you freaking out?”

She sits next to me and strokes my braid. “Oh honey, I just don’t want anything bad to ever happen to you. You’re more precious than you can possibly imagine.”

My aunt is overprotective to a fault. Ever since my parents died in a hiking accident when I was a baby, she’s made it her personal mission to keep me wrapped tight in an invisible bubble. It needs to stop, but I don’t know how to get her to see that.

I place my hand on hers. “I know you love me and you’ve always taken care of me, but you have to learn to let go. I’m almost an adult and you still treat me like a kid. All of my friends are walking to school and you force a driver and bodyguard on me. I’m not even anyone important.”

Her face turns hard. “Aurora, you are important. You have no idea how important!”

Frustration boils in me. So cryptic all the time. I’m important. People are depending on me, but it never makes any sense.

“I’m as important as anyone else and I need some breathing room.” I pull out my schedule and lay it on the table. “Look at this. You chose most of my electives, like you do every year. This time you forced me to drop the only class I really love. In my Senior Year!”

Aurora Perenna

Class Schedule

Fall — Senior Year

Environmental Politics and Policy

English X-World Literature

Model United Nations

Physical Education

LUNCH

Cultural Anthropology: Conflict and Conformity

Finite Mathematics

French V: Conversation and Composition

Creative Writing

“I’m maxed out with seven academic classes and only one of them is even in a subject I’m interested in. Why can’t I change some? At least Environmental Politics and Policy. I’m never going into politics and that class conflicts with Journalism. This is my last year before I go to Sarah Lawrence to study creative writing. I don’t want to spend it studying subjects I hate.” My breathing hitches and I swallow to calm down. My aunt is a wonderful woman, but sometimes I want to scream from the smothering.

Aunt Mira gets up and paces the kitchen. “I know you don’t understand, but someday you will. You can’t go to Sarah Lawrence. Yale or Harvard, maybe, it depends. But you can’t spend your life writing stories, Aurora. That’s not in the cards for you. You need to know these subjects. You need these classes to fulfill your destiny.”

The yogurt curdles in my stomach and I push it away. “What destiny? You’re right, I don’t understand. What I do understand is I need a life. My own life, not the one you have set up for me. You have to let me go. I’m not a child anymore.” I will her to listen to me, to hear me for once.

Her body slumps forward as if drained of energy and she collapses into a chair at the table. Eyes lined by the years and heavy with unshed tears hold mine. “I don’t know what else to do. I don’t know how else to fulfill my promise to your parents. I’m doing the best I can, dear girl. I really am.”

A war wages on her face, but as usual she does not speak of it to me. So many secrets she keeps close to her heart, not letting anyone in. So many things I wish I knew.

“Okay, look. I can’t let you walk to school, it’s too dangerous.”

I roll my eyes and cross my arms.

She holds up one hand. “Wait, I’m not finished. I’m not compromising on that, but I will offer this. Try the Environmental Politics and Policy class for one week, and if you still want to leave, I’ll approve it with your guidance counselor and let you take Journalism.”

My smile is instantaneous. It’s a small step, but still, a step in the right direction at least. “Thank you!” I hug her tight and I feel her presence and love flow over me and into me. It’s something I’ve always sensed, though I’m not sure why or how. It’s warm and soothing.

Mr. Grove walks in from his side of the apartment, dressed formally. He taps on his watch. “Time to go, Aurora.”

Aunt Mira slides my vitamins towards me and I down them all in one uncomfortable gulp. She smiles and suddenly she is twenty years younger and so very beautiful it’s hard to breathe around her.

But the smile fades as quickly as it came, and so does the glow that makes her look eternal and youthful. I kiss her wrinkled cheek. “See you after school.”

“Be safe, my love. Please.”

“Promise!” I grab my backpack and follow Mr. Grove out the door and to the black sedan that is my prison away from home.

I can’t help but hum to the music on the way to school. With the tinted window rolled down and the cool air blowing through my hair, I feel alive. The orange and red leaved trees seem to wave at me as I pass them by.

Something just might go right this year after all.

Read Chapter 2-Clash of Fates, here!

***

Call to Action

Comment and let me know what you think. Each week, I’ll randomly draw a name from the comments, and that person will get a free ebook. You can choose from Forbidden Mind, Lexie World, Bits of You & Pieces of Me or wait and get The Kiss of Life free once it’s edited and published! Once it’s published, I will also have another drawing with a paperback and bookmark giveaway!

Winner Announcement: The winner for last week’s drawing of a free ebook is Anya Kelleye . Thank you all for commenting, and don’t forget to comment this week for another chance to win!

Want to read more of my work? Fans of  The Kiss of Life might also enjoy my YA paranormal thriller/romance, Forbidden Mind and Forbidden Fire. Check out my published book under the Books menu bar, or at the top right side of the screen. Just click on them to get to Amazon.

And if you enjoy serial books, check out the beautifully romantic work of Becky Tsaros Dickson from Thinking Too Hard. She started a serial novel on the same day as me, and posts new chapters each Friday as well. Go read 

Using real life to create memorable characters

[image error]My brother and I grew up as best friends. We did everything together, from playing make believe games to combining my Barbies with his G.I. Joe men in order to storm the Barbie Dreamhouse.

Ken was such a wuss.

As we aged, our games became more complex. We created elaborate missions as spies. Our most inspired involved a man named Rorak. He was a problem, and our organization was contacted to bring him down before he killed a lot of people.

He had escaped prison and intel had it that he had poisoned a water source in Big Bear, California during a high traffic season. The poison required a catalyst to activate it. People would drink, be fine, go home and them– BAM! Some would drop dead. No trace of what caused it.

But we knew.

So we tracked Rorak. We even had Wanted posters. We hiked throughout Big Bear, interviewed shop owners (under the guise that we were looking for a friend.) We were armed and ready to do serious damage if we found this guy. (Our weapons include high-tech, very rare, invisible guns… it's all the rage.)

We were super secret spies on a mission.

If you've read Forbidden Mind or Forbidden Fire, this might seem a little familiar.

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Lucy

Luke and Lucy were largely inspired by my games with my brother. They are a tight-knit sister/brother duo who go on secret spy missions for a group called Rent-A-Kid, using their para-powers to help them on the way.

Luke can walk through walls and Lucy is a walking lie detector. Of course, they are both trained in martial arts and Lucy is also very skilled at the whole computer hacking thing. (Ok, when I wrote her I engaged in some serious wish fulfillment here!)

While Sam, a mind reader and the main character in the Forbidden Trilogy, inspired loyalty in many, and her love, Drake, is hot, and very powerful, Luke and Lucy have been the overriding favorite for a lot of readers. So much so, that half of Forbidden Fire is from Lucy's point of view and they have their own plot line.

I find that the spice of real life can add some much needed flavor to my fiction.

Do you enjoy reading books whose characters are loosely based on real life relationships?

My Unbreakable Heart: Part 2: The Beginning of the End

[image error]"Does anyone have a cigarette?" I asked, standing outside an Irish Pub in my California hometown. I was on summer break from my college studies in New York at Sarah Lawrence.  Full of life, ideas and the sure knowledge that I was indestructible.

I wasn't proud of my recently acquired smoking habit. But in the theatre-land of New York, you couldn't beat 'em so you might as well join 'em. It felt unnatural to drink without a cigarette now, on the rare occasion that I drank at all.

"I don't have an extra, but you can share this one with me." The man who spoke was handsome with dark hair and eyes to match. I felt a stirring in my body and reached to accept the cigarette, inhaling deeply.

Such an innocuous beginning. I wasn't meant to be there that night. I didn't like bars. Or drinking for that matter. I was there at the insistence of a friend.  He was there to honor the death of a friend. It was only meant to be a fling before I jetted back to my hard-earned life in New York.

I often wonder who I would have become had things been different. Had my friend and I gone out the night before as planned. Had I not given in to my craving for a cigarette. Had I worked harder to find the extra funds to cover my increased tuition that Fall.

I wonder what different roads were open to me. How a one-night-stand turned into an almost 10 year nightmare.

This is how. There is an old wisdom that says "All virtue accumulates drop by drop."

In other words, each great deed done starts with one small step. Each novel written begins with one word. But the reverse of this is also true.

Every decent into hell begins with one step. One avoidance. One red flag overlooked. They add up, these small, deliberate blindnessess.

The passion and romance and promises never kept become phantom foundations that we rest the weight of our dreams on.

This isn't just a story of domestic violence. This is the story of every life lived. The cautionary tale told to adult children who have yet to wake up to their own power in life.

I wrote about Why We Stay in my last post. You've had a glimpse of The Beginning in this post. The story will unfold as you peek into the life of a strong woman who forgot herself for a time.

When we stay true to the memory of who we are, we are never a victim. It is only when we live in amnesia, blind to the truth before us, that we fall prey to the patterns that destroy us.

But there is always time to wake up, to remember. My story proves this. I regained my memory, and with it, my Self.

***

This is the second part of a 10-part series on domestic violence and relationships based on my life. Please come back next Monday for the next post, Til Death Do Us Part , or follow my blog or sign up to receive email updates. You can also like my Facebook Page for updates on my blog, my books and more. To get caught up, start with Part 1: Why We Stay.

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The Kiss of Life-A Serial Novel-Prologue

Every Friday, now known as "Fiction Friday," I will post a new installment of my serial novel, The Kiss of Life.

Based loosely on the story of Sleeping Beauty, this is a dark YA urban fantasy/paranormal romance set in modern times. This is not a professionally edited novel, and may go through major changes during the writing process. Once it's complete, my editors will tear it to bits and make it amazing, then I will publish it!

I encourage reader feedback, so you, dear readers, will have a chance to shape the final novel as I write it. Leave a comment, let me know what you liked, what you didn't, what you want more of or less of. You will be a part of the writing process!

Each week, I'll randomly draw a name from the comments, and once the novel is complete, that person will get a free ecopy of the book! Once it's published, I will also have another drawing with a paperback and bookmark giveaway!

So check back every Friday for some fresh, raw fiction straight from my overactive mind.

The Kiss of Life-Prologue

The Kingdom of Andoria

17 years ago

[image error]The woman stood with the squirming child clutched in her arms and smiled as a tear of joy slid down her smooth, pale cheek. Finally, after all these years of trying, we finally have a child. A perfect little girl. Creamy gold fabric draped her slender form and flowed down to the carved stone floor inlaid with gleaming crystals. The delicate golden crown resting on her head accented her long, honey colored hair.

She gleamed like the sun in the sky, but her smile outshone even that. Her husband linked his arm around her waist and pulled her close. She held up their daughter as the man beside her, the man she had loved for years, raised his strong, baritone voice along with his goblet of wine and addressed their people.

"I present to you, your new Princess, Her Royal Highness, Princess Arial Mae Perenna of Andoria."

The crowd gathered around the long, mahogany tables raised their voices to the rafters in cheers and celebration. Tomorrow the Princess would be presented to her kingdom, but today was a private affair, meant only for their dearest friends, their closest advisors, their immediate family.

The Queen made eye contact with each of the twelve women who flanked her and the King at The Royal Table–their true inner circle, a coven of ageless women who had advised the matriarchal lineage of her family line since anyone could remember.

A coven who had recently lost one member, Nasia, the most powerful of them all, the one who, after years of living within an egalitarian matriarch, had pushed for something more, something that shouldn't–couldn't–exist within the borders of Andoria. She had been banished, and it broke the Queen's heart.

Nasia had once been her dearest friend, a sister. She should have been here for the Ritual Blessing.

The Queen shook the thought from her mind and refocused on the angel in her arms as her husband's voice filled the room.

He bowed graciously, with his trademark twinkle in his eyes. "And now, I give the floor to the most loyal Lacia."

The woman to the King's right stood, adjusted the long black gown worn by all in the coven and smiled in her serene way.

She cleared her throat and looked into the Queen's eyes with a hint of sympathy. They had both lost someone.

"It is my honor to bestow the first of many birth blessings on Princess Arial." With the blink of an eye, Lacia flicked her wrist and a sparkle of light descended on the child. "I give you the gift of courage tempered with compassion, that you may know when to fight and when to love, when to stand strong and when to bend to the winds of change."

Something stirred in the Queen's heart. A worry. A fear. But it passed in a heartbeat and more blessings embraced her child in sparkles and glows and rainbows of light. Beauty to surpass the goddesses of old. Wisdom to rival the scholars of history. Kindness to heal the world. Each gift was absorbed into the destiny of her child, shaping and changing her.

The final woman, Mira, stood, ready to take her turn. Her hand opened. A sparkle of white light hovered over it. Her parted lips were ready to speak, when the intricate wooden doors of the dining hall slammed open in a burst of flames.

The Queen gasped and clutched Arial to her breast. "Nasia."

Nasia sauntered to the center of the hall. She too wore black, but not the robes of the coven. Instead, tight black leather pants and a matching bodice clung to her form. Her pale face, more so since her transformation, glowed like the moon and her crimson lips curled in a sneer.

Her voice struck the Queen like an icy slap in the face. "Hello my dear Queen Isabelle. I am so glad I was not late for the blessings, as I have one of my own."

The Queen straightened her spine and glared at her former friend. "Nasia, you are banished from this kingdom and not welcomed here. Leave now!"

Guards rushed to remove her from the gathering, but a jolt of lighting from Nasia's hands sent them crashing to the draped walls and into the tables laden with food and drink.

"I will not be dismissed so easily, not until I've had my say. This is the blessing I offer to the child of the woman who betrayed me. Your daughter shall have her childhood, unblemished and uncut, until the moment she turns eighteen. When the first drop of pure blood stains her perfect skin, she will die."

The Queen screamed, "No!" The King called for more guards, but it was too late. Black, thick shadows swarmed around her child's sleeping form. Her green eyes opened and the baby cried in fear and pain.

Queen Isabelle sobbed. "Stop! Whatever you're doing to her, stop! Please. Don't punish her for your hatred towards me."

Nasia didn't waver or flinch. "It is done. Now you will know the pain you have caused me by ripping away the only family I have ever had."

She left the hall in total silence, save for the crying child.

What could she say? What could any of them do? The curse was binding, even if given in the guise of a blessing.

Mira walked to the Queen and embraced her.

Queen Isabelle looked into the woman's eyes, pleading. "Can you reverse it? Can you save my daughter?"

Mira lowered her eyes. "I'm sorry. You know I can't do that, but there might be something I can do."

She held out her hands to the Queen, and Isabelle placed Arial into her arms. Mira kissed her head and made hushing noises until the child had calmed.

"I can't undo what's been done, little one, but I can offer you this, your final blessing. When your skin is struck and blood pours forth, you will not die, only fall into a deep sleep, until the Kiss of Life awakens you."

Mira's eyes filled with tears as she looked at the Queen. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what I've done."

The Queen frowned, confused. "You have offered my daughter a way to live through the curse, how could that be bad?"

Mira handed the child back to the Queen. "The path to life is paved in death. You may yet wish I'd let your child die."

***

Call to Action

Comment and let me know what you think. Each week I'll pick a winner, to be announced the following week, who will win a free copy of the ebook once it's published.

Twilight vs. Fifty Shades of Grey… Is it Fan-Fic for a profit?

[image error]I was recently introduced to the controversy that is the NY Times bestselling book, Fifty Shades of Grey by E.L. James.

According to this article, 50 Shades started as Twilight fan-fiction with an erotic bent. If Twilight were the PG-13 love story, 50 Shades would be the X-Rated erotica version.

Apparently, James took her fan-fic, changed the names and character backgrounds and landed a 7-figure publishing contract with Random House. You can read the finer details here, where the post points out that the author fan-fic and final novel are 89% similar according to plagiarism software.

So, I bought 50 Shades in order to see what the fuss was about.

(Warning: I couldn't write this post without spoilers for both books, though I've only read 25% of 50 Shades, and I don't think I mention anything about Twilight that isn't public knowledge at this point, please proceed at your own risk!)

At around 25% into the book, here's my assessment.

Ana vs. Bella

Both main characters are young, a bit naive and domestic with a love of classic British literature and operatic music. Both are pale, dark haired and self-proclaimed average looking, but with multiple men interested in them.

Both are klutzy beyond the realm of what is normal. Neither like attention, and neither have been serious about a boy before, until they meet the dark, handsome and rich fellas that set their hearts aflutter.

They both have somewhat scatterbrained mothers who can't, apparently, care for themselves well. Ana's mom marries an older man who keeps things together for her and Bella's mom marries a younger man who also makes sure life functions and gas tanks are filled.

In a self-sacrificing attempt to give their moms chances at happiness, both girls chose to live with their fathers after their moms remarried.  Both have taciturn fathers who like to fish. (Though Ana's dad is actually her step-father.)

They both respond to the attention of their infatuation with the same blend of "You are so arrogant and full of yourself" and "Oh my God, he is so perfect and handsome and perfect and god-like… and did I mention perfect?" Yeah, we get it, they're both hot. Moving on…

In Twilight, Bella works at some kind of outdoor warehouse, where the All-American boy next door who has a serious crush on her, works with her… and it's owned by his dad.

In 50 Shades, Ana works at some kind of Home Depot like place, where the All-American boy next door who has a serious crush on her, works with her… and it's owned by his dad.

In 50 Shades, the controlling and powerful Mr. Grey shows up to a bar where Ana is getting drunk and saves her from a 'friend' who tries to force her into some PDA she's not interested in–and this is after he saves her from almost getting run over by a cyclist.

In Twilight, the controlling and powerful Edward shows up in a dark alley where Bella is[image error] about to get raped by a gang of bad boys–and this is after he saves her from almost getting hit by a car.

Both girls abhor presents. They don't like when their love interests buy them fancy things and balk and argue and try to give it all back.

Now, to be fair, there are some difference. Their names, for one, are different. Ana. Bella. See? a few letters are different.

Also, Ana is in college and Bella is in high school. HUGE difference, right there, right? And they don't meet in high school (obviously, because of the huge differences), they meet in an interview that Ana does for her school paper when her best friend gets sick and can't go.

Oh, and speaking of… her very best friend ends up dating Mr. Grey's brother, who's very nice to Ana despite Mr. Grey's aloof and haughty manner. (Remember Alice and Jasper?)

Ok, so onto the men…

Edward vs. Mr. Grey

[image error]I've already pointed out the ways in which they both miraculously save their damsels in distress from horrible happenings. But there's more.

Edward is drawn to Bella, inexplicably, and wants her, but knows he's bad for her, what with his vampirism and desire to eat her and all. So he pursues her, saves her and then pulls away. He tells her "I'm no good for you. I'm bad news. Stay away." Or something to that effect. Then a few pages later he says, "I know I said stay away, and then I keep showing up and saving you, but I can't stay away from you. There's something special about you."

In 50 Shades, Mr. Grey is drawn to Ana, inexplicably, and wants her, but knows he's bad for her, what with his Master/Submissive dominatrix sex play and desire to eat her and all. So he pursues her, saves her and then pulls away. He tells her "I'm no good for you. I'm bad news. Stay away." Or something to that effect. Then a few pages later he says, "I know I said stay away, and then I keep showing up and saving you, but I can't stay away from you. There's something special about you."

Both men are rich, so astoundingly gorgeous that they put Greek gods to shame–for pages and pages and pages–they are both controlling, protective and are used to getting their way, and they both have dark passions that could destroy the women that so fascinate them.

Both men have methods of finding their women against all odds… Edward with his mind reading and super vamp senses and Mr. Grey with billions of dollars and technology. (He traced her cell phone location to find her at the bar.)

Both men get insanely jealous over any other attentions bestowed upon their women by any other men, and are very possessive.

Both men are compared to characters from British classics, in demeanor and speech.

Now again, there are some differences. And again, we have the names. Those are different. Also, Mr. Grey is not a sparkly vampire. Still, his dark side is enough that the feeling is the same, if not the fangs.

Summary

And here's the thing… many of these similarities that were a core part of the Twilight story, are half-assed mentions in 50 Shades–not even relevant or necessary, as far as I can tell so far.

The boy who hits on Ana at her work is a talking head to make Mr. Grey jealous. Her parents are brief mentions after a 'tell but doesn't show' phone call to each of them. The rescue scenes are weak, at best. Almost getting hit by a kid on a bike? A guy she's friends with pushing a kiss while they're both drunk? Lame.

It's like she's trying to set it up as a Twilight rip-off without putting the work in to make those characters and scenes pivotal to the growth of the characters and forward movement of the plot. These people, these relationships, fall flat in 50 Shades and don't feel real at all.

These are just initial thoughts, and obviously the books diverge on the whole sex thing. In 50 Shades, Mr. Grey seduces the virgin Ana into a world of BDSM, whereas in Twilight Edward rejects sex until they are married, and even then only engages once until after she's turned.

Many are calling 50 Shades "mommy porn." I'm not a prude and I've read more hard core scenes, but for me, this book wasn't as interesting once the sex came into the plot.

So is this too close to fan-fiction? I don't know. Lots of books have the girl attracted to the bad boy thing going–even my Forbidden Mind Trilogy has Sam attracted to the mysterious, dark and dangerous Drake.

But, I definitely see strong parallels between the books, and I'm not one to scream Twilight rip-off just because a book has a vamp/girl romance or love triangle. (Meyer was not the first to write of this, has no one watched Buffy or Angel?) But this book did send my Twilight alarms going pretty early on.

What are your thoughts? Have you read both books? Do you see the similarities? What do you think about pro-fic that's taken from fan-fic? Is this just glorified Twi-porn? And if so, is that a problem? Based on the sales and reviews, it's not a problem for a whole lot of readers. What's your take?