Kimberly Kinrade's Blog, page 25

Eye of Newt: A short story

[image error]Not so long ago, I had an idea for a short story. What if there was this guy named Newt… and there was something weird about his eye… this is how stories start. Dmytry (my love and writing partner) and I had been talking about writing something together. This seemed to be the perfect thing.

So we wrote Eye of Newt and it is now a part of his epically brilliant short story collection called Dark Edge. If you enjoy this story, you will definitely love the rest of his book. Let us know what you think!

~~~

EYE OF NEWT

Co-authored by Kimberly Kinrade and Dmytry Karpov

That Morning

"I will return tomorrow," said Newt. His paper hands caressed Annabel's face. His smile made her turn away to hide the revulsion of his touch. If only he never came back—then this place would be bearable.

Smooth and crumpled papers fell off the wooden desk and unto the red carpet. Annabel picked them up, and the cold touched her spine. Stupid window. She went over to the white walls and closed it. Metal bars peered at her through the glass. "My love, while you are gone, may I have visitors?"

Newt chuckled and stroked his straw thin beard. Barely anything remained of his gray hair, unlike his overgrown eyebrows. "Why do you need those? Have I not enough books to keep you company?"

Dozens of shelves loomed over the fireplace. They went all the way up to the ceiling, so high Annabel couldn't reach many of the books. There was a variety of works by Shakespeare. Her favorite were Hamlet and Macbeth. The schemes and plots made her grin.

Annabel straightened her yellow dress and sat down under a painting of a ship in a storm. She would flatter the old creep. But she would do it with words alone. "Sometimes it is nice to have the company of people. And, without you, I get so lonely."

Newt patted the black eye patch over his eye. "I am always with you, my dear." He turned towards the door.

"But I haven't seen my friends for so long. They are nothing compared to your company, but, maybe, they will make my longing for you more… bearable."

Newt scowled, and the wrinkles on his face drew together. His blue eye dulled. His pointy chin stretched tight. That face might have been handsome once, but now it turned to hate. "No." His voice descended into a crawl. "I am all you need. If you are not happy, we will discuss it when I return."

"Please, just this once. I'll—"

"No!" Newt walked across the room. His cane tapped on the floor. He reached Annabel and lifted her by the collar. "Who is it you want to see so badly? Who?" Spit burst from his purple lips. The smell of wine hit her. "Is it a man?"

Annabel shook her head. She had driven him too far. Now, it would not end well. "No. I'm sorry. I will not ask again."

Newt sucked the air and growled. He let go of Annabel and slapped her across the face.

She fell to the floor. Her eyes and cheek burned. "I'm sorry… my love. I will entertain myself while you are gone. I will think of you."

Newt nodded and strutted out of the house.

Annabel rolled onto her back and screamed. Why'd he always ruin everything? Why couldn't she have ended up with someone else? Her father had insisted on Newt. "He is wealthy," he would say. "And you'll have everything." Annabel had no choice, and so she tried to believe.

At first, she adored the necklaces and fancy dresses, the house and the garden. They were all so… new, so marvelous—like things a princess would have. But eventually, she began to want what she had left behind: gossiping with Mary, talking to her father, going to the marketplace and saying hi to the baker. Those simple things, those things she was denied. Because of this.

She grabbed the golden necklace around her neck and pulled. It burned, a little at first, like hot water in a bath. Then it grew stronger, like holding your hand near fire. And then, then it turned to flames. Yes. Yes. Annabel let go and raised her arms. Red lines engraved her palms.

And she laughed.

He'd told her it wouldn't come off as long as she lived. Still giggling, she toyed with the chain. It didn't hurt, if she didn't pull. But it kept her here: this little thing. At its end hung an eye, and, always, it stared at her.

That Evening

"How did you get in?" Annabel stood on the balcony. Her red scarf rippled in the wind.

Footsteps behind her. "I do what I'm paid to. You don't want to know how."

Annabel didn't turn. She couldn't let the eye see him. "Did you get my message?"

"Yes. How did you get the boy to deliver it?"

The garden below brought the smell of roses. Annabel leaned on the stone railing. Its bumps pricked her soft hands. "He's a farmer's son. He visits me at the gate every night… if it's safe."

"You're fortunate."

Annabel flicked her necklace. "I wish I was."

"Shall we start?"

"Yes." Annabel turned and put the scarf over the necklace. Maybe he wouldn't notice. Maybe…

The dark room held only a bed and a chair in front of a mirror. The man before her wore a black coat, had thick black hair and eyebrows. His sharp chin fit perfectly with his slim face, and his blue eyes reflected stars. A handsome face. Her breaths became shallow with the possibility of desire.

He signaled her to come closer. She did. He put his arms around her, and pulled her to his chest. Her heart quickened. Her skin grew hot. His rough hands slid up to her neck.

And broke it.

All went dark.

That Night

Annabel gasped as if waking from a nightmare. The man came into focus over her.

"It is done," he said.

Her hand went to the necklace… it wasn't there. Yes. Finally, but where… at her side lay the golden chain and uncovered eye. She stood up, pushed the man aside, and threw the eye out the balcony.

The door slammed open.

"How dare you?" Newt stood in the doorway. His red coat puffed up like his face drenched in sweat.

"I am no longer yours." Annabel raised her arms and put her head back. The man who freed her had disappeared.

"What did you do?" Newt walked up to her, almost tripped over his cane. "I saw the necklace slip off of you. What did you do with it?"

Annabel laughed. Oh, how she had waited for this moment. For years, she had planned her words. "I have left it. Like I am leaving you."

"No." Newt clutched her neck and squeezed. The air ripped from her chest and returned in trickles. He pushed her to the floor and got on top of her.

How had he returned so quickly? How long had she been out? No. This wasn't supposed to happen now. Not now.

Newt's grip loosened as he breathed harder.

"I'm sorr—" Annabel stopped. She wasn't sorry. She was furious. Furious at him for stealing her life. And she was done acting.

Yelling, she grabbed his face and dug her nails into his skin. Blood poured from below his eyes like tears.

Newt screamed and pulled her arms away. Filled with air, she pushed him to the floor. He started to stand, but she dug a heel into his chest. She knelt over him and pushed on his throat.

"You kept me here like one of your precious ornaments. Now join them. You'll have everything…" she mimicked her father, and then added, "and you'll be all alone."

She pushed harder, and Newt's limbs collapsed.

He lay there like a dead insect: thin, small, and twisted oddly. What had she ever been afraid of? She knelt down and pulled a ring of keys from his pocket. The scent of his blood stirred her new hungers. She flicked her tongue at his chest, like a kitten sipping milk for the first time. Her stomach clenched, the vile flavor of his essence tainting her. Even his blood tasted foul.

She laughed, wiped her red hands on her dress, and walked out. She walked past locked doors and barred windows. She walked past the garden and out the gate. She walked home, grinning all the way—the night alive with flavors. Her second chance at life an intoxicating elixir.

Back at the mansion, the man in black emerged from the shadows. He stood over Newt's body and shook his head. "When will you learn? You should have treated my mother better. You should have treated her," he pointed at the door, "better. Then maybe, she wouldn't have killed you. You have everything. Don't waste it."

He knelt down on one knee and pulled out a knife. As he cut his wrist, he put it over the dead man's throat. Let him have one more chance.

~~~[image error]

Want to read more of Dmytry Karpov's short stories & get a sneak peek at his next novel? Get DARK EDGE on Amazon or Smashwords

Want to read more of Kimberly Kinrade? Get her latest YA paranormal thriller/romance, FORBIDDEN MIND, on Amazon, Smashwords, BookieJar or as paperback or B&N. Also available on iBooks.

It's Back to School with the YA Indie Carnival

[image error]A place where writers and bloggers unite each week to share their thoughts, hopes and dreams about what it's like to go indie in today's publishing world. The future's so bright, we built our own place to play.

This week, we're sharing a scene from one of our novels based on a classroom incident. I've chosen a short scene from 'Forbidden Mind' in which Sam, a girl who reads minds, returns to school after being mysteriously ill and is trying to gather information about a boy she has linked to telepathically.

~~~

Lucy and Luke saw me before anyone else the next day, and tag-team hugged me.

"You're off the deathbed, and you don't look like a sexy ghost anymore," said Lucy. "I knew the soup we brought would make you better!"

"Yes, I'm sure that's exactly what did it." I always looked pale compared to them.

We got to our Economics class and settled into our seats in the back. I mentally checked [image error]everyone, but it was just more of the usual—boys, girls, parties, tests, fear of the future, excited or nervous about the next assignment. Jessica caught my eye and smiled. She rarely talked, and we didn't hang out much, but I liked her. She held out her hand to me, I nodded my consent, and she sent a cold breeze to my still inflamed cheek. It immediately numbed the pain, a super handy power for injuries.

Peter, a boy who'd been asking me out for a few years, sent a papier-mâché rose floating through the air to my desk. Mr. Jackson glared at him and nodded to me, the only indication he would give that I'd been gone for over a week and then out sick. Fine by me. I took out my book for class, placed my sketchbook over it, and started doodling, daydreaming about sixth-period art, where my focus wouldn't have to be feigned.

Dozens of sketches of the twins covered the pages. Over the years, I'd painted, sketched, or in some way drawn nearly every inch of this place, including the entire faculty and every student. My secret notebooks proved that I'd really been here.

Even if just to myself.

~~~

I'd also love to announce the launch of an amazing new website, The Paranormal Plume Society. A number of our carnies are a part of it–check it out–you'll LOVE it!

And now, if you will, go give some of my fellow carnies some love!

The Fuji Mermaid Dani Snell's Refracted Light Reviews

Leopard Girl Patti Larsen Author of The Ghost Boy of MacKenzie House, The Hunted Series and the Hayle Coven Novels

Fire Breather Courtney Cole Author of Every Last Kiss, Fated, Princess, and Guardian. Also a contributing author in The Glassheart Chronicles

Strong Woman Nicole Williams Author of Eternal Eden, and Fallen Eden. She is also a contributing author in the Glassheart Chronicles

Champion Sword Swallower Fisher Amelie Author of The Understorey, as well as a contributing author in The Glassheart Chronicles

Siren Laura A. H. Elliott Author of Winnemucca and soon to be released 13 on Halloween

Snake Charmer Amy Maurer Jones Author of The Soul Quest Trilogy as well as a contributing author in The Glassheart Chronicles

Pretzel Woman Rachel Coles. Geek Mom. Book Reviewer Author of Diary of a Duct Tape Zombie, Whistles, Beergarden, Plagues, Bees of St. John, and Mushrooms

The Giant T. R. Graves T.R. Graves: Author of Warriors of the Cross

Jungle Woman P.J. Hoover Author of Solstice, The Emerald Tablet, The Navel of the World, The Necropolis

Shape Shifter Alicia McCalla Author of the upcoming science-fiction novel Breaking Free

Tarot Card Reader Heather Cashman Author of Perception

Fortune Teller Abbi Glines Author of Breathe, and the upcoming Existence and Vincent Boys

Knife Thrower Cheri Schmidt Author of Fateful, Fractured, and Fair Maiden

Fire Dancer Lexus Luke Author of Manitou, The Sky People Saga

Fire Breather Suzy Turner Author of December Moon and Raven

Dragonslayer K. C. Blake Author of Vampire Rules

Elephant Trainer Gwenn Wright Author of Filter

Ring-Leader Kimberly Kinrade Author of Forbidden Mind and Bits of You & Pieces of Me

Prestidigitator J.L. Bryan Author of Paranormals series- Jenny Pox. Tommy Nightmare & Alexander Death

Lie to Me. I Dare You.

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Rent-A-Kid dorms. Cozy eh?

If you lie to me, I'll know. I always know. Which is why it's so shocking to me that I've been lied to my whole life and never knew until now.

My name is Lucy. I was raised in the Rent-A-Kid dorms, a secret school where kids with special para-powers are rented out to the highest bidder for spy work. Think X-Men, with a dark twist!

It took my best friend Sam meeting a strange boy who can control minds for us to start uncovering the truth. Sam reads minds, so I guess she always knows when people are lying too. Which, by the way, is most of the time.

Jaded? Me? Well, wouldn't you be if you were dumped at a hospital with your twin brother when you were a baby and picked up by this place?

Yeah. You would.

But still, I have Sam and my twin Luke. We've always been there for each other.

I had serious reservations when Sam started mind linking with Drake. He had her questioning everything we ever believed. Not a healthy way to live if you ask me. But I gotta give him some credit. My shy little friend finally started getting herself a backbone! Score one for Drake.

It kinda sucks though, cuz they have to go through some serious hell to be together. I mean, literally, they spend the early part of their relationship in each other's minds! No thanks! I'd rather have the flesh, ya know? But whateve. It worked for them. Mostly.

I don't want to give too much away because you can read their story in "Forbidden Mind." But basically, our eighteenth birthday does not offer us the freedom we had always believed and been promised.

Oh no. Not even close. In fact, quite the opposite. It's disgusting really, what they do to us—to those like us. Human exploitation, just because we're different. So what if I make you uncomfortable because you can't lie to me as easily as you might some? Stop the damn lying and you'll be fine!

But, humans are humans. And it seems a shadow side of the human condition that we're so anxious to enslave each other and use each other for profit.

Someday I will find the people behind this whole operation and wipe my ass with their money—after I destroy everything they've built.

But first, you need to read about Sam and Drake. Don't worry, I'm in it too! And you can look forward to more of me in book two, "Forbidden Fire." So go on, click on whichever link you prefer and order yourself a copy.

I can promise you one thing; you're in for a wild ride.

Don't believe me? Would I lie to you? Ha! Ok, check out what other people are saying. Reviews are in and it just launched today. But then, I'm in the book, so you know it's going to be hot!

"Forbidden Mind is one of those stories whose characters and emotions lasso your heart [image error]and soul. To say that I anxiously await the next installment of this series would be the understatement of the century. But I must warn you, if you choose to read this book, prepare yourself. Do not make any plans on the day you begin, as once you start, you will not be able to put it down." ~L.M. Stull, author of "A Thirty-Something Girl"

"I read all of James Patterson and Stuart Woods books and by far Kimberly has the ability to leave them in the dust!!!!!! I can't wait until her other books come out." ~Gregory S.

"When she mentioned that it was like XMEN meets human trafficking, she wasn't kidding. She puts quite a spin on the idea that it leaves you wanting to read more and more. I'm so looking forward to the next installment of this series." ~N. Medina "LizzieBeth"

"This premise is great, too–stolen kids with powers, lied to, forced to go on 'jobs' to uncover secrets… and the romantic side of it was just enough without being over the top. I can't wait to read the next one!" ~Patti Larsen, author

"Miss Kinrade is an exceptional writer and I believe she will have a very successful future ahead of her." ~Sandra "Book Worms Sans"

Pretty convincing don't you think? And they aren't lying. I'd know! So go ahead, see for yourself. Want a sample? All three sites offer free samples. Enjoy!

~~~

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

Buy it on Amazon, Smashwords, BookieJar

Forbidden Fire (Forbidden, #2) They've started a fire they can't put out. Will it destroy them, or save them all? October 2011 through Evolved Publishing

Forbidden Life (Forbidden, #3) November 2011 through Evolved Publishing

X-Men meets human trafficking… Forbidden Mind

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cover by sarah e melville

What if Xavier from the X-Men hadn't been a nice guy? What if someone was kidnapping paranormal kids and raising them as spies for hire?

Meet Sam. She reads minds. It's how she ended up spending her life raised in a secret school and rented out to the rich and powerful as a paranormal spy. But it hasn't been such a bad life, and soon she'll be eighteen and free to do what she wants.

At least that's what she thought before she meets Drake, a paranormal who can control minds. Now, everything she ever believed is challenged, and what she thought would be her freedom turns out to be the ultimate hell. Will their powers be enough to save them before it's too late?

Available September 2011 in eBook & paperback. An Evolved Publishing novel.


Want a sneak peek? Check out this snippet.

No matter how many times I had been drugged, I still woke up in a slight panic.  My body maintained no sense of how long it had been.  My subconscious mind had been shut out—definitely the worst part of any assignment. Wait….

Mary lay in the bed next to mine. That sucked worse.

She sneered at me from behind her blond hair. "Well, look who finally woke up.  Took you long enough.  So, looks like you had some trouble.  Is Higgins' pet getting lazy?"

"What do you want, Mary?"  Though sick of her games, ignoring her would only inspire her to greater taunts.

"Nothing.  Just waiting on the good doctor, like you."

I slipped into her mind, like being stuck in the poisonous trap of a viper.  'Thinks she's so great… not that great… not even as pretty as everyone thinks… tits too small… and look at that black eye… looks like she finally screwed up… hope she gets what's coming to her… she's just a goody two-shoes… little priss.'

Well, nothing new there.  Did she ever have any other kind of thought?  Past experience suggested no.

I raised myself on the bed—no IVs or wires stuck to my arms. The world spun just a little through my swollen eyes.  Fake flowers in artificially bright colors stood on the table by the window, a futile attempt to cheer up the dreary grey walls and fluorescently lit room.

"Ah, Sam, Mary, you both wake.  Good," Dr. Sato said with a soft voice.  Why is she nervous? Her pronounced Japanese accent, stronger than usual, gave away her unease.  "How you feeling?"

I stretched my arms and moved my neck around to work out the kinks. The inside of my mouth reeked. "Fine, just a bit of a headache."  Probably brought on by my roommate.  Well, and the black eye.

"And you, Mary?" she asked.

"I feel wonderful." Mary crossed her long legs seductively and purred. Her slinky silver gown showed off more than it covered. Who the hell was she trying to impress in here?

Dr. Sato took my blood pressure, checked my temperature, and examined my eyes and cheek.  "You bruised.  Bone hurts, but you be better soon.  Just no jumping."

Again with the nervousness.

I slipped into her mind but met only gibberish, having never had a chance to learn her particular dialect. It unnerved me—nothing clear, as if I'd lost my hearing or eyesight.

"You go now.  Headmaster Higgins expects you.  You get dizzy or have troubles with eye, come back.  And you take it easy until eye sees better.  And no jumping too.  Okay?"

I nodded and bit back a comment about how hard it would be to refrain from jumping everywhere.

My backpack sat on the chair by the fake flowers.  I hopped off the bed—oops, did that count as a jump?—grabbed it, and walked through the long corridors to the exit. Confronting Higgins made my stomach hurt, but getting away from Mary made it worth it.

Few people walked the corridors of the clinic.  Where were all the normal personnel?

I stopped at the front desk to sign out. Something's out of place.

A movement caught the corner of my eye.

A boy, about my age, tall and muscular, lay unconscious on a stretcher.  I only saw a glimpse through the electric doors to the surgical area. His messy blonde hair had flecks of red in it.  Dried blood.  A gash ran over his forehead.  As the doors closed, his eyes flashed open and held mine for one long moment.

'Help me.'

The mental message sent me staggering back in its ferocity.  An urgent compulsion to respond overwhelmed me, a need to do as he'd asked.

Then the boy lost consciousness. My mind cleared, and whatever had grabbed hold of me disappeared.

Missy, an attractive, plump woman who worked the front desk, frowned.  "Are you okay? Should I call the doctor?"

"No, I'm fine.  I just… head's still hurting, you know."

She did know. Her eyes gleamed with sympathy.  I'd always liked her. She baked us cookies from time to time, and kept her blond hair in a messy bun held together with random pencils.  I'd tried it once on my hair, but couldn't make it stay put.

"Missy, who was that boy they were wheeling in?  He looked hurt, but I don't recognize him."

Not many kids lived on the huge estate. We all knew each other, at least by sight. The memory of his persuasive presence in my mind had me unnerved in ways I couldn't explain. My body betrayed the anxiety with sweaty palms and a racing heart.

Missy avoided my eyes, something a lot of people did unintentionally, thinking it would keep me from reading their minds.

'She shouldn't have seen that… hope she doesn't say anything… I could get in trouble… don't want her to get in trouble either… sweet girl.'

"Oh, don't worry about him, love.  Now you'd better be going. Headmaster Higgins doesn't like to be kept waiting."

"Of course.  Have a good day, Missy."

Her face relaxed. "You too, Sam."

The sun felt ten shades brighter than normal outside the double glass doors.  I pulled my sunglasses out of my backpack and walked the winding trails through campus.  The warmth calmed me, but not enough to erase the effects of that strange boy and his compelling mind.

Near the main offices, a group of kids ran by in gym uniforms.  One petite girl fell out of line to throw herself into a hug.

"Lucy!"  I laughed and hugged her back just as fiercely.

"Where have you been, chica?  And what the hell happened to your face?"

Lucy, even in gym clothes, could cause a riot with her curvy figure, smooth brown skin, and long, dark Spanish hair.

"Lucy, let's go!"  Luke, her twin brother, waved at me as he called his sister.  He matched her in the looks department, though he stood a head taller than us both.  They fell behind their class.  "Hey, Sam, meet us tonight, K?"

"Sure thing." I pushed Lucy away.  "Go, I'll see you later.  I have to get to the office."

"Fine, but I want details."

She ran off, her ponytail swinging down her back.  The rules didn't allow us to share the details of our assignments with anyone, not even other paranormals.  But Luke, Lucy and I had been best friends since we could remember, and we found ways to communicate without technically breaking those rules.

I walked on, my mind drifting. Oh, Tommy. How I wished I could have told him the truth, told him everything about my life.

Rich buildings full of personality and character rose up along the road, like living on the set of the movie, "X-Men."  Tommy would have enjoyed the comparison, except we didn't really know anything about this organization.  Not even its real name.  We'd dubbed it Rent-A-Kid as a joke. "That place where paranormal kids are rented out to the highest bidder," was a bit of a mouthful.

What would Tommy have said if he had known who I really was?  It made me sad to think about.

I shook off my melancholy and entered the headmaster's office.

He didn't stand, or even look up at me, when his secretary ushered me into his office.  Just stared down at his oh-so-important papers.

She closed the door, and I settled into one of the chairs in front of his desk, taking off my sunglasses reluctantly. My face would further condemn my actions.  After a moment, he looked up.

"Ah, Sam, you look wretched.  How are you feeling?"

Not the opening I had expected.  "Bit of a headache.  I'll be okay."

He already had the oral briefing, but I followed standard procedure and placed my report on his desk.

He flipped through it, then shuffled the papers that had consumed his attention a moment ago and placed them neatly in his filing drawer.

I fidgeted with the zipper on my backpack.  This office was too meticulous, from the always clean and empty trashcan, to the perfectly placed pens and pencils.  The deep mahoganies and burgundies of the room matched the dark man with the expensive suit who sat looking at me from behind the oversized desk.  Higgins didn't have to work at intimidation.  His size and bearing did that for him—tall, well-built and in his 50s. Gray temples added to his image.  I didn't love the man, but we got along well enough.

"You know that stunt you pulled could have gotten this entire organization in trouble," he said.

"I know.  And I wish I could say I'm sorry, but you don't know what he was thinking, what Beaumont was going to do to that girl.  And other girls.  Honestly, this is the biggest creep I've ever met.  I had to make sure he didn't get away."

"You've always been one of our best.  Never making trouble.  This is your first problem, so I'm going to let it slide.  But this is a once in a lifetime freebie.  Any more trouble and I won't be so nice."

"I know."  My whole body relaxed, releasing the tension I hadn't been aware I carried.

"Good.  Well, I have some exciting news for you."

Oh?

"You've been accepted into Sarah Lawrence College."  He pulled out an official-looking letter and handed it to me.

"Oh my God, really?  What last name did I get?  How did you create an identity for me?"

I checked the letter.  Dear Sam Smith, It is our pleasure to inform you that you have been accepted to the undergraduate visual art program at Sarah Lawrence College….

"Smith?  That was the best you could do?"  I laughed, clutching the letter.  We didn't come with last names. They gave us those on assignment.  But they also promised, once we turned eighteen, that we'd be able go anywhere and do anything, fully funded by Rent-A-Kid.  This letter represented my entire future.

"It's a good name.  It's very common and doesn't draw attention to you.  All the things you want when you finally enter that life."

"It's fine, I'll take it.  Thank you, Headmaster Higgins."

"You're welcome, Sam.  You deserve it.  You've been one of our best and brightest students.  We'll be sad to see you go.  That reminds me," he pulled out another file, "this job just came in, and I think you'd be perfect for it."

He handed me the brief.  I flipped through it: infiltrate a prep school clique of famous rich kids and get dirt on their parents.  Oh God.  I so did not want this job.

"But I just got back!  And you promised that was my last assignment before I left.  I have to pack and complete my studies.  I want to spend time with my friends."

"You have a few weeks before you need to leave.  It shouldn't take you long, and it will give you some extra cash for your new life.  I'm throwing in a $10,000 bonus if you complete this assignment without any problems."

That sold me.  Mostly.  Not that I could turn down a job, but Higgins always tried to make sure we participated willingly.

"Ok, I'll do it."

He smiled, but didn't look the least bit surprised.

I often had fun on assignments, but they made me tired. All that mind reading gave me headaches.  I thought they were done, that I'd be free, but I could handle one more.  Especially with so much to look forward to.  Lucy and Luke would turn eighteen a few months after me and would be joining me in New York.  We had our whole lives planned, starting with an apartment and college.

He took out an envelope and handed it to me.  Cash for my last job.

"There's $500.  Don't spend it all in one place.  The rest has been deposited into your bank account."

Right.  Almost all my money went into savings I would get access to when I left.  I'd gone on a few assignments every month since I was twelve.  That added up to a pretty nice nest egg for my 'retirement.'

"Go ahead and take today off.  You can start getting caught up tomorrow."

I nodded gratefully and shoved the money and folder with my next assignment into my backpack.  Does he know anything about the boy on the stretcher? Maybe—

Missy's thoughts stopped me.  I didn't know why he was such a secret, but I didn't want to get her in trouble.

On my way out, I slipped into Higgins' mind to see if anything relevant popped up.

'Must keep her busy… time is running out… so much to do… hope this works… boy very useful… good genes… best yet.'

Hmmm… what did he mean?  Keep me busy?  Sure, I'd be leaving soon, but what did he hope would work?  And what about the boy's genes?  Was he talking about my boy?

No. Mystery boy was not my boy, and I had no intention of getting into any trouble my last few months here.  Just play it straight and do your job, Sam. You've been accepted into Sarah Lawrence. Don't blow it all by worrying about some strange boy.

So I put my sunglasses back on and focused my thoughts on more pressing concerns.  Like food.

Judging a Book by Its Cover

They say you shouldn't do it. But everyone does. Not only do we judge books by their cover (it's often the first thing that inspires us to pick it up or reject it) but now we are judging books by the thumbnail version of that cover.

I know I do more of my book shopping online than anywhere else. So a book has to grab me as its bite sized version before I even see the big picture, so to speak. What's an author (and cover designer) to do?

As many of you already know, my Young Adult paranormal novel RENT-A-KID is coming out in early September through Evolved Publishing. We are in the final stages of editing. (I hope!) Now, we just have to nail down the cover design and formatting. Easy right? Ummm…

I have one of the best designers ever. Sarah E. Melville is a design goddess sent from the City of Gods to bless us with her brilliance. And I love the cover she created for DEATH BY DESTINY. I also love my new RENT-A-KID cover. But the feedback has been mixed.

While almost everyone loves it as a piece of art, many find it hard to read (though her modified versions to be eBook friendly are easier) and MOST find that it doesn't really sell the book based on the genre and story line. In fact, a lot of people even think the title is off-putting to the teen and young adult demographic (not sure how to factor in the fact that many adults also read YA).

Now trust me when I say that this title and cover do actually represent the theme and story of the book, in a metaphorical way. It's symbolic.

But here's where I need your feedback. Which cover is your favorite? And more importantly, do you feel this cover is intriguing for a YA paranormal novel? Some have suggested a more standard cover, boy and girl in romantic position, some flashes of paranormal activity around them. New title. What do you think? It's a thriller of sorts, but has a strong romantic and coming of age theme as well. Some of the most successful YA covers do not really show the story, or even the paranormal nature of the book. It's symbolic. (Twilight, Amanda Hocking, Hunger Games) What do you think?

To add incentive to this question, one lucky commenter (randomly chosen) will win a free e-Book of RENT-A-KID when the final edits are complete. To qualify, you must select your favorite cover, but ALSO tell me what you think of the cover and the title based on the premise of the novel! Ready? Go!

Sam spent her whole life at RENT-A-KIDS, using her mind reading para-powers to spy on the rich. Just before her 18th birthday, when she is supposed to be free to live her own life, she meets a boy who makes her question everything she believed.

By joining powers with him, she begins to uncover the secrets behind the organization she always trusted. But will their powers be enough to keep them alive once they know the truth?

~She reads minds. He controls minds. Together, they might get out alive.~

Aug. 26th UPDATE:

I'm looking for a new title. Thoughts? Here's the one I like the best. I'll give out an extra eBook AND signed paperback to anyone who comes up with the perfect name that I use as the final title! Here's the one I like the best so far, given to me by Anahata Graceland:

RAW MIND

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RENT-A-KID COVER 1

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COVER 2

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COVER 3

To Blog or Not To Blog…it's not the only question…

[image error]I'm befuddled. (I love using that word.) I cannot, for the life of me, figure out the best use of my blog. It's a bit absurd that after all this time I still don't know what I'm doing. But it's true. (Don't tell anyone, this is embarrassing enough as it is!)

Most "expert" advice out there says it's important to blog consistently. No more or less, but on a regular schedule with bite sized posts that people can sink their teeth into without becoming gluttonous on excessive word consumption.

Writer's Digest just posted a blog on 10 Ways Writers Lose Blog Traffic and Alienate Readers. The bottom line? Not blogging enough, blogging too much, blogging about too many topics and not sticking to a theme…

All sins I've committed. I'm surprised you're reading this at all.

I have noticed in the past that I get the most hits on posts that deal with the publishing industry. This tells me two things. One: most of my followers are other writers. Two: I'm not doing a good job at targeting my intended readership.

Don't get me wrong, I LOVE other authors. I've met some of my greatest friends through these online forums. (Including my fiance, Dmytry Karpov, and our partner for our new site WordOne2Done.com, Patti Larsen.) And it's a good thing most writers are readers, though not necessarily of the paranormal genre in which I write.

So this leads to my dilemma. What should I be blogging about? How does a genre fiction author create a theme for a regular blog that showcases her writing style and skills to her readers? I post snippets of my book, talk about publishing, writing, etc. But I don't usually go to blogs to read works of fiction.

John Locke, in his book "How I Sold 1 Million eBooks in 5 Months" talks about how he uses his blog to sell books. It's a pretty brilliant strategy that relies on knowing his demographic well, writing creative non-fiction blogs that incorporate the story telling elements his readers love, and letting those posts sit on his blog to age like a fine wine. He then uses twitter to send these posts viral. And he rarely posts more than once a month.

I love this strategy, if I can figure out how to effectively pull it off for myself. Check out his book for more information on his techniques, there is more than what I'm explaining.

But how do I write theses kinds of posts for paranormal young adult novels? This is what I'm trying to figure out. What do my readers actually want to read on my blog?

So help me out here. I know I'm just now launching the first of my YA novels, Rent-A-Kid (to be released next month through Evolved Publishing, where I have signed as an author and editor, woohoo!) But I want to be ready for my fans when I actually have a few. For those of you who like my work, what would you want to read on my site regularly? Do you know of any other genre fiction authors who use their blogs well to attract and entertain their readers?

Should my whole blog be showcased on my home page? Any other site changes, content changes you notice that would make you want to spend time here?

I look forward to hearing your ideas!

RENT-A-KID Chapter 4

Get caught up. Read the first three chapters of this paranormal YA novel.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2  Chapter 3

I woke up groggy and in the Clinic. My headache was screaming from the pain, and my body felt like it had just run a marathon.

"Good morning, sunshine." Dr. Sato, all 5' and 90 pounds of her, observed me intently as I focused on her.

"How long was I out? What happened to me?" My head felt like lead as I tried to lift myself off the hospital bed. I was in a hospital gown and had no memory of how I got here. Last thing I remembered was locking myself in my room.

"You not show up for classes yesterday. Your friends worried and found you passed out in bedroom with very high fever. They bring you here. You been unconscious for a while."

Mistrust tickled the back of my brain, and I instinctively reached for her mind to fill in the missing pieces of this story. Something didn't feel right.

But, as always, I got nowhere.

I rested my hand on my abdomen and felt a sudden cramp seize me. It wasn't that time of the month, so why was I in so much pain?

"Are you alright? You hurting?"

"Just cramping. What am I sick with?"

"Likely the flu. You be ok. Just rest and fluids. Keep you here until you a little better."

I noticed the IV in my arm for the first time.

"Can I go back to my room now?"

"Not yet. If you stay better and keep food down, you go to room and rest there."

Fair enough. "I am pretty hungry, can I get something to eat now?"

She nodded and left to get me lunch. Or dinner. I wasn't sure what time it was.

A cold, limp turkey sandwich and green Jello later, I was declared fit for bed rest in my own bed. Goodie! She unhooked from the IV and went to sign me out.

I stood carefully and began to dress, checking my body for anything abnormal.

I still felt wobbly as I made my way through the Clinic. I stopped to steady myself when I heard a voice that made my legs weak for an entirely different reason.

"Stay conscious. Alert. Must be way out. Can't move. Light hurts. Must find my strength. What happened? How'd they catch me? I screwed up. Hurt. It hurts."

His voice projected itself to me stronger than anyone ever had. It was him. My mystery boy. I instinctively started following the sound of his thoughts, oblivious to the video surveillance focused on me, or the fact that I had been passed out for a full day and was still sick. All that mattered was finding the owner of that voice.

My quest was cut short by the presence of a secure password/scan protected door. I wasn't allowed in that section of the Clinic. None of us were. But he was in there, I knew it. And I realized my mistake.

If anyone figured out that I was looking for this boy, I would be in trouble. But how would they know? They couldn't read my mind. At least I hoped they couldn't. I put my hand on the forbidden door, trying to get closer to him. I needed to know who he was. Why he was here.

Just then images flashed into my mind, projected there by some other power. A hospital room, locked. A boy, well, young man, laying in a bed in pants with no shirt. His muscles bulged as he struggled against the restraints that kept him prisoner. Wires were attached to his chest and temples, and an IV dripped a yellow fluid I didn't recognize into his body.

"Help me. They took me. Help me please."

I jumped back, shocked that he actually spoke directly to my mind. I thought that first time was a fluke. Apparently not.

I'd never had a mental conversation with anyone before.

"Can you hear me?" I asked him mentally, trying to project my thoughts to the person in my vision.

"Yes."

I was stunned.

"Are you still there?" He sounded calm despite his situation. I admired him for that even as my own heart took off like a jack rabbit.

"Yeah, sorry. Who are you? What happened to you?"

"I'm Drake. Drake Davis. I don't know what happened. I was kidnapped, and now I'm trapped here. Who are you? How can you hear me?"

That was a really good question. How could I hear him? I didn't know. But how was he kidnapped? Someone here kidnapped him? That was hard to believe. There must be a reason he was locked up. Perhaps he was dangerous. Or maybe his powers weren't controlled, and he hurt people. I'd heard of other kids being sedated when dangerous powers got out of control. That's probably what happened.

"Are you telepathic? Can you read minds like me?" Maybe that would explain this ability, if not the lockup.

"I don't think so. I've never been able to before." I waited for him to finish, but he appeared to be done.

"Do you have a para-power?"

"Who are you? Where am I?"

"I'm Sam. You're in the Clinic at Rent-A-Kid. Well, I don't know what it's really called, but you're in a hospital used for the paranormals who live here."

"So you can read minds?" he asked without surprise.

"Yes."

"I can make people do things with my mind. I'm also really strong."

That made him a very powerful paranormal. I could see how those powers could get out of control. Hurt people. Surely they had him locked up for his own good. But why bring him in at this age? How did they even catch him if he's so powerful?

As if he could read my mind, he answered. "I have no idea how they got me. But I'm tied to a bed with restraints that I can't break, and they are putting a drug in me that's making me weak. I can't control any of my powers. Can you help me?"

Could I? I didn't know what I could do. I had no way of getting into that part of the Clinic. And should I even help him? He was dangerous. While I didn't agree with everything Rent-A-Kid did, I wasn't about to start a war over one guy. They probably were trying to help him control his powers.

"Sam, what are you doing here?" Dr. Sato stood behind me, fists on slight hips, glaring at me. I really needed to learn her dialect.

"I don't know. I'm sorry. I started feeling dizzy and got disoriented. I was just looking for a place to sit down." The lie came easily to me, made possible by a lifetime of acting.

Her composure softened. "You should have waited for the guard to escort you back to your room. Maybe you stay here is better." She guided me to her office and sat me on the loveseat.

"Here. Drink." I took the juice and drank greedily. I felt an immediate surge as the sugar hit my system. Sighing, I sat the empty cup on the coffee table in front of me.

"I'm feeling better. I just want to get back to my own room. You said it's just the flu right? My fever broke. There's no reason I can't recover in the comfort of my room."

"Yes, ok. But come back if you feel dizzy, nauseous or if any other odd symptoms persist."

"I will."

She picked up her phone, and a moment later, a guard came in with a wheel chair. I groaned, but didn't argue. I just wanted to get home.

The trip back to my room was humiliating, but not many were out to witness it.

Once I was neatly tucked in my bedroom, I tried contacting Drake again. I was always open to testing the limits of my abilities. Now I had an interesting partner to practice on. This was my justification, of course. In my heart, this boy had me too curious for my own good.

"Drake, can you hear me?"

"Yes, what happened?" His mental voice was just as clear and strong as when I was in the Clinic, even though I had already traveled halfway across campus. I wasn't usually very good at distance mind reading.

I decided to try something new. He had been able to project images to me. Maybe I could do the same. I looked around my tidy room, with the large walk in closet, oak dresser and matching desk, my MacBook sitting on top of it.

Every image captured, I thought hard and sent him the pictures. I imagined my mind like a computer, sending images via email.

"Can you see what I'm showing you?" I didn't expect it to work, so I was surprised when it did.

"Is that your bedroom?"

"Yes."

"It's nice. Cozy. Are those pictures of your friends on the wall?"

"Lucy and Luke. My very best friends. And some other kids from class field trips."

"You're very pretty."

"Umm…thank you."

"Sam. Tell me about this place, please."

"Hmm…I've grown up here. It's nice enough, though not as perfect as it looks. We go to school to learn things like math and English. And learn to control our powers, whatever they may be. Kids with dangerous ones are given special lessons in private. Once we're old enough, usually around 13 or so, and have enough control, we start getting sent on assignments. This is when someone really rich rents us for a specific job.

"My assignments usually involved spying, or getting secret information from people. My friend Lucy can always tell if people are lying and her brother walks through walls, so they get sent to places where those powers are useful. We are chosen based on our power, personality, and skill level for each job. We get paid, some in cash, but most in a bank account, and attend classes the rest of the time. Other than the assignments and para-powers, as we call them, it's basically like a high end prep school. Some teachers are good, some not. Some kids are great, some not."

"So what do they want me for?" he asked. "You've all been raised here. I haven't. They can't control me like they can you. No offense. I just…"

"They don't control us. Many of the kids here have powers that could hurt others. Some, like me, have powers that could get us hurt if people knew about them. This place saved us. But I don't know why they brought you here," I admitted. "It is unusual."

"Do you like it here? Are you happy?" I considered his question. Was I happy? I didn't know. I thought I was happy enough, but things were changing, and I didn't understand why I suddenly felt uneasy here. Or why I had all these urges to break the rules. I was about to leave and start a new life. I had been a model student. To stir up trouble would only result in a very bitter meal for me and everyone else. I needed to stay focused on what was important.

"That's hard to answer. It's hard to miss what you never had, but when I read books, see tv shows or visit other families, I wonder how my life would have been like raised in a family. I guess I've always done my job knowing when I turn eighteen, I'll be free to do what I want, and that I now have enough control not to put myself or others at risk."

"Do you seriously think they will let you go?"

His question annoyed me. Of course they would let me go. I'd been to other kids' going away parties. We got postcards from some of them talking about how great life on the outside was. Why wouldn't they let us go?

"Because you know too much. Did ALL your parents give you up willingly? Why weren't they involved in your lives at all? Have any ever come to visit or interact with their kids?"

"Look, our parents gave us up because they couldn't handle kids like us. They did what was best for us."

"Then why couldn't they at least stay in touch? Visit? Call?"

"I don't know. Probably for safety. We get to meet our families when we leave. Once we are safe."

"You keep talking about being safe, but they have rented you out since you were 13. So you've been safe enough for clients for a long time. Why not let your family back into your life then? Come on Sam, you're a smart girl, but they've got you brainwashed to believe they are the good guys. They are NOT the good guys. They tracked me down, attacked me, and brought me here against my will. Does that sound like something a good organization would do?"

My head was starting to hurt again, and I didn't want to deal with the questions he was asking. There had to be a reason they treated him that way. Something he wasn't telling me. But I was too sick and tired to figure it out just then.

"Drake, I've been sick and I'm crashing. Can we talk later?"

"Ok. Hey Sam…"

"Hmm?"

"Be careful."

That night I had haunted dreams of stolen kids and parents crying, heartbroken. I woke up more exhausted then I had been when I fell asleep, drenched in sweat with a racing heart.

~~~

Available as an eBook and paperback September 2012 through Evolved Publishing. To stay up to date on launch dates and special discounts, sign up for my sporadic newsletter to the right and keep an eye on Facebook!

RENT-A-KID Chapter 3

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Chapter 2

Chapter 3

I didn't hear the knocking on my door. Which is why Luke felt justified walking through the door to wake me up. He was lucky my para-power wasn't super strength or kickass reactions. He'd be toast.

As it was, he got to put up with my whine, which was probably worse than getting punched. He unlocked my door from the inside and let Lucy in, then closed and locked the door again.

"Ok Sam, spill it." Luke pulled my covers off me and crawled into my double bed next to me. Lucy joined him on the other side. If I didn't totally think of Luke like a brother, I'd be way into him. He was the hottest guy at school and somehow immune to Mary's powers, much to her never-ending chagrin. But, I could never see the tall, tanned buff boy as anything but a brother. Pity.

"I mouthed off to a client, and he punched me." They both looked stunned. Luke looked at Lucy, and she nodded her head.

"She's telling the truth, more or less. But she's definitely not telling us the whole story."

"Hey, quit reading me!" I lightly punched Lucy on the shoulder. Having a best friend who can always tell if someone is lying or withholding something is a bigger pain in the butt then you can imagine. I pulled my red comforter over my head, as if that would keep her out of my secrets. No such luck.

"Sam, what's going on? You seem troubled, and you've never talked back to a client before. Not even that guy who kept undressing you with his mind, and then dressing you back up in his wife's lingerie."

I'd forgotten about him. He was a real winner too. Trust me when I say that no one should ever have to see themselves naked in the mind of a pervert.

"Tell us." Luke spoke our secret language. A language we three created as children so we could talk without other kids spying on us. It had evolved over the years to include thousands of words. So I told them everything. About the assignment. The molester. Tommy. Mary at the hospital.

"She's such a bitch," Luke said. Did I mention how much I love Luke?

And then I told them about the boy on the stretcher.

"Sam, you cannot get involved in whatever that is. You know that, right?" Lucy looked worried. They both did.

"Yeah, I'm not. It was just weird is all."

Lucy shook her head. "Not totally the truth, though I think you believe your own lie at the moment. Just promise me you'll talk to us before doing anything stupid?"

"I promise."

They both seemed satisfied at that, so we turned on our favorite movie,  "X-Men" of course, and settled in to some mindless entertainment. While I pretended to ignore the voice in the back of my head that spoke of things best left forgotten.

~~~

The next day at school was…awkward. I kept my sunglasses on and generally hid behind Luke as often as possible.

When I bumped into him for the fifth time, he turned to face me.

"Sam. I love you. And I know you are embarrassed, but if you bump me again, I'm going to walk through a wall to make it to class on time. Got it?"

I nodded and mumbled an apology. He softened and put an arm around me. Lucy flanked me on the other side.

"It doesn't look that bad. Honest."

"Lucy, I don't need to be able to read minds or tell when someone is lying to know that's a big fat one."

"Well, I mean it could be worse. And it will get better. You should just ignore it and go on like everything is normal. People are only staring because you are acting so weird about it."

She was probably right. But with a mild case of OCD, I couldn't resist popping into people's minds as we walked down the halls to English.

"Wonder what happened to her?" "Heard she got punched by a client." "Looks painful." "She must have really screwed up." "Did Higgins punish her, I wonder?" "I heard she got into a fight with a new kid, and he's been in the infirmary ever since."

That last thought stopped me. Were they thinking of my mystery boy? I searched the crowd of teenagers to see who had that thought, probing minds as I did. Everyone was busy getting books out of lockers and heading to their next class before the bell rang. I couldn't pin point the person I was looking for, but it gave me hope. I kept scanning minds hoping to get another clue about this guy.

Lucy pulled me along. "What's the matter? We're going to be late."

"Sorry, just caught a stray thought that bothered me."

"Don't worry about what people are saying. You'll be old news in no time flat. Besides, you won't even be here much longer, and none of this will matter."

I heard nothing more about the boy for the rest of the day, so I just ignored everyone and hid in the bathroom when Lucy and Luke weren't around to make me behave normally.

I was touching up my makeup, well, more like cover up, when my hiding place became a trap set by Mary and her pack.

"If it isn't the little kiss ass hiding in the bathroom. What? Afraid you might scare the younger kids with your new look?"

"What is your problem, Mary? Honestly, what do you gain by tormenting me? Does it stroke your fragile self-esteem? Are you so pathetic that only hurting other people makes you feel better? Well, you know what, I don't really care anymore. Say what you want, it makes no difference." Her face looked shocked. I'd never stood up to her before, but I just had no energy left to take her crap. Her two lackeys held onto frozen sneers, waiting to see what would happen.

"And here's a tip for you. Don't mess with a girl who reads minds. I can pull out every thought you've ever had. What do you think I'll find if I do that?" My voice was ugly. I hated who I had become in that moment, and yet a part of me felt the raw righteousness of feeding her the bile she always spewed at us.

Her face collapsed and she ran out of the bathroom, followed by her friends. I went to the nearest stall and sat on it, shaking. Out of fear, rage, guilt? I couldn't tell. I just knew that standing up to her like that didn't feel as good as I thought it would. Did that mean I had to let her bully me to feel ok about myself? No. There had to be a middle ground. Something that gave me a backbone and still allowed me to keep my heart.

When the day from hell finally ended, I ran to my room and locked myself in. I didn't feel like myself and didn't know what to do about it. Was the prospect of leaving somehow changing me? Had I just snapped from too many assignments or too much pressure?

I paced my spacious room restlessly, moving picture frames and misplaced CD's around with no real thought. My room was messy but not dirty. I picked up some dirty clothes and threw it into the hamper in my walk in closet. Turned the stereo on, then off again. Tried a movie. It didn't provide sufficient distraction either. I looked at the collage of pictures on my bulletin board. Me smiling brightly at the camera, friends around me. Different school events. I looked happy. But in that moment, I didn't feel happy.

I unmade my bed and threw myself into it.

The rest of the night was a blur, kicking the covers off me and then shivering and pulling them back on, hot and cold all at once.

That night I ran a very high fever and eventually passed out. I didn't wake up the next morning.

WordOne2Done.com Where teens learn the craft of writing & the business of publishing

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Now more than ever, teens and young adults need a forum where they can hone the craft of writing, be it fiction or non-fiction, short stories or novels. More than that, they need a place to learn the business or writing — because the publishing world is changing daily and only someone in the trenches knows what it takes to make it from word one to the finished product.

This is what we do at WordOne2Done.com. Founded by three prolific Young Adult paranormal authors (Dmytry Karpov, Kimberly Kinrade & Patti Larsen), this site will be devoted to the craft of writing, marketing and publishing, and is specifically created for teens and young adults. We will also be creating a Middle Grade section, a WordOne2Done Book Club and many more resources.

What makes WordOne2Done.com unique is how interactive it will be. Built with a social media platform, this will not just be a blog. We will host live seminars with experts in various fields relevant to the writing and publishing industry, writing contests, opportunities for publication in anthologies and a section of the site devoted to promoting the sharing of work, the discussion of books and the connecting of like minds.

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Letting your Characters Spill a guest post by Jennifer Daiker

Do your characters talk to you?

At the beginning the relationship between character and writer is weak. You know they have a story to tell but sometimes they're just not comfortable enough to share.

If you were to give them a cup of tea would they accept it? Or are they more of a glass of wine type?

The littlest of things makes the biggest difference.

How does one make their character stand out more than the other?

Profiling. That's right. You want to learn as much about your character as you can. If a young reader is to ask you what your character would want on a desert island you'd need to tell them a brown paper bag. Why? She'd be hyperventilating. She isn't great with water, sharks, or being alone.

How did I know that? Because I took the time to ask her.

Now I definitely use a character sheet to get my ideas rolling. The simple, name, age, relationship status. But I also ask random questions…

If you looked in your characters fridge what would you see?

What would her movie collection consist of?

If your character was left with peanut butter, black beans, bread and a tortilla shell what would she eat?

Answers for my character:

Wine, cheese, and left over pizza.

Chick Flicks, Seasons of Saved by the Bell and Sex and the City.

She'd eat out.

What the reader wouldn't know is that her best friend would have made a black bean taco even after Harper ordered out. Your reader doesn't need to know that BUT you do because it shows how much your into the world you created.

So the next time your characters aren't talking sit quietly and let them spill. They'll want to talk… it's what they do!

For writing a character profile (just the basics) check out Creative Writing Now – http://www.creative-writing-now.com/writing-character-profiles.html

So tell me… what are your characters like? How would they answer the fridge, movie, item question?

About Jennifer Daiker

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This is Jennifer. Thinking. Isn't she cute?

I is: 25, a girl, blonde, quirky, and original (I think). I am also thinking in this pose (see quirky & original)

I like to write: Adult Chick Lits.

I like to read: Everything underneath the sun (literally, reading outside is the best). Genres: Fantasy, Romance, Horror, anything that tickles my fancy.

I have addictions: Jelly Belly's, sour candies, cupcakes, and sparkles

To reach the chaos: you can find me at Unedited on Twitter or via email at jenniferdaiker(at)gmail(dot)com