K.C. Sprayberry's Blog, page 164

Teaser Tuesday ~ Angela Deppler ~ Wendigo

About the Author:I am a native from Clarksville, Tn. I have worked for the police department at the local college for more than sixteen years. Most of that time has been spent as the midnight dispatcher. I’m divorced and live with one fully grown daughter and seven cats (3 are fosters! I swear!) I’ve always loved the paranormal, aliens and Star Trek. (who doesn’t love Spock?) Storytelling/writing has always been a love of mine. I’ve written poems and stories as far back as I can remember and love mixing the paranormal and humor. It’s always been a life goal to become a real live published author. Solstice Publishing helped accomplish that goal. One goal down, about a zillion to go. 



Blurb:More than mosquitoes are eating the good folks of Springfield, Tennessee.Joshua Constance, a detective for Nashville Metro PD gets asked to help Evan Stovall, a sheriff of a small town called Springfield, catch a killer that’s eating its prey. It’s a case where the dead are piling up and the killer can’t be caught. For Evan and Josh, with the help of Josh’s dead partner, Bruce Miller, and a sometimes angel named Brad, the chase is on and there’s Hell to pay.







Excerpt"I don't care how many people lose their jobs Marty! I want that damned factory closed! You and I both know that everything made there can be made faster and cheaper...Just do it Marty!" Victoria cut the connection and threw the I-phone onto the seat next to her and swerved onto highway 616 and cutting off a little Prius in the process. The wheels of her BMW squealed in protest at the rough handling. The phone rang and she glanced over at it, grabbing it up and thumbing the connection open."Maria, I told you...then call a repairman, it's what you’re paid to do!" She tossed the phone onto the seat again. It bounced slightly and slid to the floor. Victoria cursed and reached to get it. She scrabbled for a moment until her fingers closed around the phone then straightened and flung it onto the seat again, screaming as she glanced out the windshield to see a large black mass in the road. She threw up her hands to protect her eyes as the front of the BMW impacted...nothing. She blinked and grabbed for the steering wheel again and glanced into the rear view to where the ...thing had been. The view was blocked by the black mass in her back seat. Victoria Summons screamed as the car exploded.The news flashed up a picture obviously taken from a helicopter, showing black smoke billowing off of a car in flames, the newsman’s voice droning on over the burning wreck. “Victoria Summons of Summons Industries was hospitalized following a one car accident. Ms. Summons apparently lost control of her 2014 BMW while driving down highway 616 near Springfield earlier today. Witnesses said she had appeared to be speeding and driving recklessly when theaccident occurred. Local 911 logs confirm that at least one call was made of her running a local man off the road. Ms Summons was life-flighted to Vanderbilt where she remains in critical condition. More on the story at ten. And now, the weather.”Joshua Constance flipped off the television and stood up. A lot of changes had occurred after Chief Langston and Bruce Miller had been killed. A few people were fired. A lot of people went to jail. A new Chief had been hired and Josh had been promoted to fill Bruce’s spot as detective. People still shifted their eyes away and avoided the subject around him. The newspapers and television stations had made a circus of the event. That’s how Josh classified it. It was “The Event”. He knew it was just a coping method to handle the grief of losing his best friend but, until he could sort through and come to grips with everything, “The Event” would have to stay carefully packed away in his memory.Josh toed the box from Bruce's locker at work that he’d been sorting through. It was the first of the boxes he needed to sort out. Bruce Miller’s will had been specific. Take care of his fish, toss what needed to be tossed, donate what could be donated to the shelters and set up trusts for the girls.Josh and his family had been as close to family as Bruce had had at the time of his death. Josh had arranged the funeral but had been shocked when he’d received the letter from the lawyer stating that Bruce had left everything to him and Marie and the girls. Josh had played merry hell with the insurance company to get the insurance policy on the house to pay off but now, a year later, the house was rebuilt, the three life insurance policies had paid and placed into trust for the girls and Josh was left sorting through the detritus that Bruce left behind. The fire that destroyed Bruce’s house hadn’t left much to be sorted through. There were some things Bruce had stored off site at a you-rent storage facility and a few things that had been in a detached shed behind the house.Boxes for clothing stood open and ready to receive the civilian clothes. A second box already held some of Bruce’s old uniforms that had been at the cleaners or in his locker at work. Marie had assured Josh that she would remove the patches and put them away.Police uniforms, even old ones had to be handled differently from civilian clothes. It wouldn’t do to have some nut get hold of an old uniform from a second hand store and start playing cop. Things like that looked bad for the department, and the department already had one hellacious black eye from the Event.Josh picked up several gun locks and dropped them onto the bed. The FBI had already returned the guns and they were currently locked in the gun safe hidden in his closet. Bruce’s gun safe had been moved to Josh’s basement where his man cave was. He’d take the locks and the guns downstairs where they belonged. He packed Bruce’s gun cleaning kit into a large plastic baggie then dropped it onto the bed beside the locks. It too was destined for the man cave.Marie hated for him to clean his weapons in the bedroom. She claimed it made the room smell like gun oil. Personally, he liked the smell of gun oil, but life was easier if Marie got her way.He picked up an evidence envelope and shook out a pair of silver and black cufflinks and stopped cold. It had been almost year ago that he had given them to Bruce. The cufflinks, with their hidden thumb drives had been evidence in one of the biggest kidnapping/child pornography rings ever busted in recent history. Josh sighed and slipped the cufflinks into his pocket. They were empty now, reformatted by the FBI to remove any copies of any evidence they had contained before they’d been returned to him. That was okay with Josh. The evidence had been beyond awful. The information on those cufflinks had provided enough evidence to bring charges and arrests for a lot of people, including a local congressman that had been running on a platform of stronger punishments for sex offenders. Needless to say, he lost his backers and found new accommodations in jail. He and several of his fellow sickos had made bail almost immediately and then disappeared. Josh figured they were now hiding out in Brazil somewhere. That was the last case he and Bruce had worked on together, and they uncovered it by accident. He had been working a series of car burglaries and Bruce had been working a home invasion case that had escalated to rape and murder. Neither had figured to wind up finding evidence to clear off more than three dozen missing person cases, take a dozen pedophiles off the streets and bust up a child kidnapping/rape/murder ring. Josh felt his throat tighten. They hadn’t known one of them would wind up dead either. Josh swallowed and returned to packing.
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Author Arrogance Part II

Susie Short Story is now happily a novelist. She learned almost too late that cooperation and reading every word of a contract is very important when it comes to a relationship with a publisher.  In fact, she learned her lesson so well, she offered advice to a good friend, Johnny Jerkus, after he complained about the difficulties he faced as a self-published author.
Johnny is well aware of the troubles Susie had with her publisher. He’s rather disgusted she backed down so fast after they slammed her with the old “do what we tell you to do or we’re gonna dump you and spread the word that you’re a jerk.” routine. Granted, Susie is a bitch when she wants her own way, but nobody deserves that kind of grief. In his opinion, she’s nothing like she used to be when they used to hang at the coffee shop, working on their shorts and talking about the day when they’d be rich and famous.
He figures she’s well on her way to the famous part. Rich might take a bit longer, but turns out that stupid novel she wrote was pretty good after all. Once she toed the company line with her publisher, the editor-in-chief got the book published pretty quick. And old Susie sure didn’t have much time for talk during their coffee/writing sessions. She was pounding out a new book, working Twitter like no tomorrow, and planning a release promotion.
“Ungrateful broad.” Johnny leans back in his chair, dismayed both by Susie’s absence today and his lack of sales for his half dozen self-published novels. “This has got to stop.”
He begins hatching a scheme, one that will get him on the good side of Susie’s publisher and help him make a lot of money fast. Johnny has never been one for breaking a sweat working, and he’d always figured that he’d have it easy as a writer. His stories were great. In fact, he still had a pretty steady income from the shorts he’d always used as his bread and butter, but paying gigs from magazines were getting harder and harder to find.
His head tilts as he thinks about something Susie told him, his lips twisting in disdain at her excitement over a new way to market her work.
“Who would pay to buy a short story that’s not in a magazine?” The entire process of writing shorts is to maintain a relationship with a magazine. “That’s just plain stupid of Susie to give up on magazines because a publisher has her twisted around their finger.”
A quick check of his email has Johnny sweating. There are half a dozen late payment notices, his sales reports are in, but the summaries don’t look good, and his bank is being rather irritable about him leaning so heavily on his credit card.
“Time to check the old sales rankings.” Johnny opens his Amazon Author Page and starts to look at each of his books. Their rankings are ten times worse than they were a week ago, if that’s at all possible, and there are new reviews.
“Those will help.” He gulps and stares at the reviews. None is above two stars. “What the hell?”

The complaints are the same ones he dismissed from the stupid editor he hired. His work is brilliant. It doesn’t need editing from a ham fisted idiot. And those reviewers are a bunch of loser wannabe writers.
I could always give a publisher a chance. Susie’s sounds like they’ll work.
He’s not afraid of getting into the same mess that she did. His cover art won’t give the publisher any grief with the print book. There’s no need for an editor because he, the magma cum laude English Literature and Creative Writing graduate knows everything there is to know about writing. No need to use one of their hacks on his work. It’s perfect as it is. As for that stupid thing Susie mentioned about taking his books down from all sales venues before submitting. Not happening on anyone’s best day.
“I know their damned contract.” He begins the process of submitting his work to Publisher ABC. “I’m sure they’ll offer me six figures to start.”
His concentration never wavers as he submits all of his novels to the same EIC Susie has. Johnny mentions their relationship, even brags about being one of the many people who helped her with her novel over the years. Once he hits send the last time, Johnny signals the barista to bring him an extra-large double shot espresso, no milk, no sugar, none of those fruity flavorings, and several scones. It’s time for him to celebrate.
“Pick it up yourself,” Cheryl, the barista, yells at him. “I’m not your servant.”
Johnny sashays over to the counter, takes the drink and food, leaving only enough to pay the bill. Cheryl was once a great little writer, someone to look at as competition, until she decided having a nice apartment and her bills paid overrode any sense of literary excellence. Sure, she’s published, like most of his friends. To be honest, Susie was the last member of their writing circle to be published, but Johnny is the one everyone thinks is the big winner. His bragging about his royalties (which have yet to appear in the numbers he indicates they are) has all of the rest green with envy.
“Wow!” Cheryl’s sarcasm cuts deeply into him. “Could you spare the tip?”
Settling back in his chair, Johnny faces her and eats the scones slowly, sipping his espresso between bites. Without letting her see anything but disdain, he opens his email. A smile forms on his unshaven face. He scratches the beard he’s decided to grow and opens the first email.
“Yes.” Johnny’s ecstatic. “That dumb broad is about to discover that I’m not the pushover Susie was.”

Signing the contract isn’t anywhere in his thoughts as he composes an email in return to the EIC who gave Susie such grief. Johnny knows what he as a published author can expect, and he’s going to get it, no matter what this publisher-wannabe says.
His fingers fly over the keyboard of his laptop. He grins at the thought of a six figure advance, of the promotion work they’ll do for him, and of the royalties that will soon be rolling in. His demands are quite complex—they have to use his cover art, give him 500K as an advance, and have his book ready for publication within 72 hours. He will accept nothing else. And he wants a phone discussion with the CEO, to ensure he will be treated as the bestselling author that he is.
Once he sends the reply, Johnny orders another double shot espresso, certain he can afford the expense despite the sorry state of his finances. He’s not worried. He’ll soon be rolling in money.
A ding from his inbox has him opening the reply from the EIC, only the person replying is someone called the chief operating officer. Johnny’s mouth drops open at this person’s answer to his demands. They don’t negotiate their contract, ever. He can accept it as it stands or go elsewhere.
His reply is curt and simple. “Screw you.”
The response this time is faster, as if the person on the other end was waiting for him. “We withdraw our offer of all contracts.”
“Screw them. Screw all publishers.” Johnny deletes the emails from the loser company Susie recommended and begins work on his seventh book. He’ll soon have all the sales he needs. This will be his best work ever…
Six months later, he’s the barista in his favorite coffee shop. Susie, Cheryl, and the rest of his writing group have taken over a booth in the corner for their weekly meeting. They’re all talking about promotion, their royalties, and how happy they are with their publisher. His sales are still nothing. Johnny sneers at them. They know nothing. He’ll soon be richer than they can ever imagine.
But a little voice in the back of his head asks “When?”

Sale ~ Starlight!

Join in on the fun and pick up a fabulous book for a great sale price too! That’s right. Starlight is on sale for only $1.99!
About the Author:
Born and raised in Southern California’s Los Angeles basin, K.C. Sprayberry spent years traveling the United States and Europe while in the Air Force before settling in Northwest Georgia. A new empty nester with her husband of more than twenty years, she spends her days figuring out new ways to torment her characters and coming up with innovative tales from the South and beyond.
She’s a multi-genre author who comes up with ideas from the strangest sources. Some of her short stories have appeared in anthologies, others in magazines. Three of her books (Softly Say Goodbye, Who Am I?, and Mama’s Advice) are Amazon best sellers. Her other books are: Take Chances, Where U @, The Wrong One, Pony Dreams, Evil Eyes, Inits, Canoples Investigations Tackles Space Pirates, The Call Chronicles 1: The Griswold Gang, and Starlight. Additionally, she has shorts available on Amazon: Grace, Secret From the Flames, Family Curse … Times Two, and The Ghost Catcher.


Blurb:
Jayme Barclay sees her 15 year old swinging on a rope from a tree at Starlight, the mansion the county commissioner is making over. Brad Patterson loses a piece of himself when he answers the 911 call to get to Starlight on a snowy December night.
A year later, the mystery surrounding Tawni's "suicide" still haunts both Jayme and Brad. Events spiral until Jayme must return from her isolation and face her demons. After reuniting with Brad, she reveals a secret she hid from him.
They work with Tawni's friends to uncover the activities at Starlight and rescue another teen before she kills herself.
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Excerpt:
Headlights approached the darkened building on the winding, two-lane highway. A vehicle fishtailed while turning onto the rutted driveway. Brake lights flashed, the jeep stopped, and a woman tumbled out of the door. She looked wildly in all directions, and then she stumbled through the drifting snow.
“Tawni? Where are you?”
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Teaser Tuesday ~ Silvia Villalobos ~ Stranger of Friend

Bio:
Silvia Villalobos, a native of Romania who lives immersed in the laid-back vibe of Southern California, is a writer of mystery novels and short fiction.  Her stories have appeared in The Riding Light Review, Pure Slush, and Red Fez, among other publications.  She is constantly drawn to premises filled with questions, which arouse feelings that are often beyond imagination yet seem real.  Her debut novel, Stranger or Friend, was published by Solstice Publishing, March 2015.  She is a member of Toastmasters International -- Valencia Club -- and its Vice President of Public Relations.  When not taking long walks through the local paseos or preparing a speech, she can be found writing or blogging.
The Story Behind Stranger or Friend, a literary mystery :
Inspiration, at times elusive, rushes at us like a storm of jagged images when a story must be told.  Such was the case in the writing of this mystery novel -- the culmination of two lives at a confluence of cultures: an Eastern European immigrant -- the author -- married to a California native of Hispanic descent. The result is a highly fictionalized story, an observation, of intersecting cultures, of newcomers and locals, the bumps along the way, discovery, rejection, and acceptance. This is the story of a woman going back home, only to find that home is no longer the place she remembers, or maybe never really knew. 


Blurb:
L.A. lawyer Zoe Sinclair finds her Wyoming hometown reeling from the murder of its most popular resident: her best friend, Lori. Not less unnerving are the strange cries coming from the woods. The lawyer inside the woman is prompted into action, but she meets resistance from a town wary of outsiders. When a second body is found and Zoe is threatened, the case turns personal. Under pressure from the sheriff to leave the probing to the police, and taunted by the killer’s subtle messages, Zoe finds herself trapped in a game of hunter and prey.


Excerpt:
Someone had manipulated the case onto a dangerous path where friends suspected friends and neighbors distrusted one another …

He studied her, the woman from the city, likely an oddity to a man who’d never lived outside Pine Vale. She wasn’t a local anymore, but more or less a stranger ...  Zoe pulled her jacket tighter, hoping she'd make it through her first day home without having to explain she hadn't gone crazy in the city…

Fog rolled off the lake, filling the street. Puffy clouds gathered, ready to blanket the town with snow. Except for a few buildings, the old part of town didn't look much different from the dusty photos Mother kept in the attic. There was the hardware warehouse, the mortar and pestle handing outside the apothecary, revamped storefronts. Past Main, the road stretched below the endless sky, and in the distance the Laramie Mountains. Sights were as bright as her thoughts were dark ...



The author speaking at Toastmasters




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Author Arrogance Part I

There is a terminal disease running amok, one which may or may not lessen your chances of having a publisher and/or agent offer you a contract. This particular disease is usually felt by all first time authors to some degree. Some of us manage to survive the infection, but others never do and find themselves on the outside looking in, often with a mile wide chip on our shoulder that no one recognized their genius.
What is this disease? What is so awful that it’s fatal to everyone who can’t fight off its effects?
Well, perhaps I exaggerated a bit. The disease is fatal, but only to your career of having an agent and/or publisher offer you a contract. Or if they did, inform you in no uncertain terms that the contract is null and void.
The disease in question is called First Time Author Arrogance. It is recognized by the symptoms of “I know everything about how to ready my book for publication.”
Let’s examine the case of Susie Short Story. Her whole life has been about the shorts she’s written for magazines. That’s been her bread and butter for years. But she wants more. She yearns to see her book at the top of the New York Times Bestseller list, and she knows the novel she’s been working for the last decade is the perfect combination of Harry Potter meets Lord of the Rings with a twist of The Fault In Our Stars and (just for good measure) the pluckiness of Scout from To Kill A Mockingbird. Susie has no idea why agents have been rejecting her perfectly written, supremely edited book. They must know with so many elements that it will be a bestseller within minutes of the book’s release. Why, these agents should see that a publisher won’t even have to hire an editor to look over the book. It’s perfect in every sense of the word.
Susie finally decides these agents are fools and decides to hunt for a publisher herself. She begins with those considered the Big 5. They’ve been around for years. She’s met a few of their editors at writer’s conferences. Using those “connections” she’s soon firing off letters and frequenting the post office, searching for a reply. She read their submissions guidelines, but Susie’s old school. She doesn’t think they apply to “good friends” of the editors she watched from afar at a meet and greet cocktail party. Despite all her submissions to these people, she never receives a reply. Another year has passed and her determination to be published is stronger than ever. In a moment of panic, she searches for and discovers some online publishers. Her disdain rises at stooping so low, but she consoles herself by thinking about how all those people at the Big 5 publishing houses will be so jealous once her book hits number on the NYT bestseller list and stays there forever. Susie reads through the submission guidelines and fills out a dozen queries and eighteen full submissions.
Her wait this time is so much shorter. Twenty-nine times she opens emails that begin with, “I’m sorry to inform you…” The reasons are always the same. Her plot is murky. The characters don’t leap off the page. They already have several novels of this type, but try again in another year or two. Her hopes crashing against massive boulders, Susie opens the last email and is elevated into writer heaven. There is a contract attached. Her fingers trembling on the mouse, she reads the contract, follows the instructions to sign and return, and sits back. Tears stream down her face.“Finally! Someone has recognized my genius!” She throws up her arms in a V.
Within a week, Susie is running down the necessary information, conversing with her editor-in-chief in order to find out how amenable the woman is to having an independent cover artist create the perfect cover, without telling her that Susie had that done years ago and is unwilling to give up on that investment. She’s also attacking her social media pages with posts about her great good fortune, uncaring that people’s reactions are mediocre at best.
Three months pass. The idiot editor is butchering the best passages in Susie’s book, claiming they’re repetitive and unnecessary. Susie is having to rewrite major sections of the book that are slow and pedantic. Her temper is on edge. The editor-in-chief refused the cover art, saying it wouldn’t work with the print book and instructed Susie to fill out the form and turn it in by today, or the publisher would select her cover. The editor has just sent the fifth email in as many hours, asking why Susie is a week late with the latest round of revisions.
With an infuriated “that’s it!” Susie pounds out a long email to the publisher herself, explaining how this editor-in-chief and her inept editor are ruining a potential NYT best seller with their foolish ideas. She’s certain the person in charge of this company won’t be at all happy with how things are progressing with a book certain to make her company thousands in royalties in just a few hours. She doesn’t even bother to read what she’s written an hour later when she hits the send button. All Susie knows is that she’s told the CEO that her EIC and editor are horrible people determined to bankrupt this indie publisher and something must be done immediately.
The email Susie receives later that night isn’t from whom she was expecting. She reads the stiff words with a sinking heart. She has one choice, and only one choice, that must be responded to within two days. Either she can cooperate with the pre-publication process for her book or  she can sign the attached release and leave Publisher ABC.
Wondering what elicited such a response, she reads her email and discovers that she not only maligned the EIC and editor, calling them uneducated trolls and the idiot-in-chief and her minion on several occasions. Susie realizes her email was one of the most unprofessional things she’s ever done in her long writing career.
“What have I done?”
Sheer panic overtakes Susie. She looks over the release, thinks about the twenty-nine other rejections and comes to a decision. No reputable publisher would ever allow an EIC to deliberately ruin a book.
“Maybe I’ve been wrong about my book all along.” She sadly opens the original submission and admits some… no, all of what the editor has saying is true. “My book really wasn’t publication ready.”
Her hand shakes as she writes her response. It takes her much longer to formulate the apology than it did to write the email that almost ruined her dreams. She’s humbler now than she’s been in many years. She proofreads the missive a dozen times, making a few corrections here and there before sending it to the people she insulted, and then hopes she hasn’t ruined any chances she has for a publisher.
End of part one. Next week: Johnny Jerkus gives his opinion about publishers.

Teaser Tuesday ~ David B. Chandler ~ The Hunter's Moon

Bio:
David Chandler has been writing science fiction/fantasy since his elementary school years. He has completed the Dark Testament Chronicles series, the Hunter’s Moon and is currently working on the second installment to the Great Tribulation saga. David lives in Pennsylvania, planning to finish his bachelor’s degree at Shawnee State University in January of 2015.




Blurb:
Colorado college detectives Malenski and Reinhart investigate the brutal slayings of two college students at an abandoned resort, which leads them into the research of Doctor Walter Gorman--a world-renowned microbiologist and genetics researcher working for an anti-terrorist task force in the United States Government. Gorman was in charge of a research project that involved the usage of the retrovirus S-12. The virus was designed to force the human body to produce a certain type of white blood cells, enhancing the immune system. But after exposing the virus to two lab assistants, Gorman later discovered that there was more to his research than he thought.




Excerpt:
Jason Whitaker and Brian Sloan sped along Interstate 41 late Friday afternoon. The sun was starting to fall into her normal pattern of slumber , making everything ethereal. A myriad of colorful leaves were dancing among the trees almost as if waving goodnight to a friend.
Jason and Brian had been friends since grade school and they both were talented young men with promising futures.

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Reviewer Etiquette

Book reviews are what all authors expect once we are published. Whether good or bad, a review is part of our job. Some of us write reviews of the books we’ve read, and have developed a set of rules as to how this is done. It’s pretty basic. We provide a short synopsis of the book separate from the blurb and then give our opinion of several things. A good review might include a line by line analysis of the book, or it might be an overall “it was good/great/so-so” followed by points on why the reviewer felt these things applied. Of course, if you post your review to Amazon or Goodreads, you need to decide how many of five stars to apply to this review.
Most authors hold their breath, hoping for the 5 star review. To people looking at your book, it means this is one you should try. This author wrote a fabulous story. You, the reader, will be enthralled from beginning to end. In theory, this is true. In fact?
Let’s just say the 5 star review as an indicator of a fabulous book is a little overrated…
Lately, a system of giving five stars despite blatant misspellings, grammatical errors, and an overall lack of plot development has taken over the way reviews are written. In some cases, it’s the author’s family and friends supporting their endeavor, but in other cases, the reasons vary.
Without pointing fingers at why assessments of our books are rated as they are, let’s go into how to formulate a professional looking review.
One should always open with a short, 2-3 sentence, overview of the book. It can be as simple as “Teen boy has to overcome the obstacles of his first year of high school while also evading the school bully. Oh, did I mention that he also has an older brother not above playing a few humiliating pranks?” Or you can get a little complicated and go into the relationships within the characters as a driving factor in their motivations. However you open your review, keep it short, snappy, and tantalizing.
Next, the reviewer needs to inform the reader why they did or didn’t like the book. Your thoughts can be as simple as “It was great.” To “I found the book to be a compelling tale about bullying, showing that finding a solution isn’t as simple as most people make it out to be.” Here, you are even allowed to insert a few examples from the book, as long as you don’t reveal any relevant or vital plot point, also called spoilers. Between 3 and 5 sentences is enough to explain your like and dislike for the book.
One important point to remember—if you dislike the book enough to give it a 1 star rating, please think before you bash the book, the author, and anyone connected with it. This is especially important if you are reading a new genre, which you discover quickly you don’t like. What you see as wrong or difficult to understand may, in fact, be how the genre is treated in literature.
Finally, you have reached the point where you explain what you feel about the errors you found in the book. A good way to do this is to mention that some of the sentences were fragments, or there more than a few misspellings. This isn’t the place to bash the author, their other works, or anyone associated with the making of the book. Your review should always be honest. However, there is honesty, and then there is honestly. To slam an author simply because you didn’t like the genre, or felt cheated by the ending, or even are having a bad hair day is not right.
The final element of a good review is to add a line at the bottom of the page, a short statement as to whether or not you recommend the book. And then you post your review to the proper sales venues and Goodreads.
One last thing to remember for everyone staring at those one and two star reviews—never, ever engage the reviewer in the comments section. That never turns out well.

Teaser Tuesday ~ Maralee Wofford ~ The Gold Bluff Deception

Bio
Maralee Lowder is a California girl through and through (she uses the word “girl” here euphemistically), although she and her family did live in Houston, TX for twelve years.  Texas was a great experience, but she could never rid herself of the mystical pull of the rugged mountains of California.  So, when their children began to wend their way back to their native state, she and her husband soon followed, finally settling down in Siskiyou County. California’s northernmost county.
She feels blessed to be living near California’s beautiful Mt. Shasta with her husband and their dog, Brian. It is an area that had its own gold strikes in the 1800s, and still has a few active gold mines. Between the history of local gold finds as well as a mountain often referred to as being spiritual, Ms. Lowder felt she was destined to write The Gold Bluff Deception, a fictional tale placed in a very special location.


Blurb
Gold!  What other word has been the cause of more intrigue, and downright mischief?  The town of Gold Bluff seems to have all of those qualities and more.  Unfortunately, honesty is not one of them.
When EDEN McKENNA, history buff extraordinaire is hired to teach English and history in the tiny town of Gold Bluff, she is ecstatic.  After reading about the town in a prestigious travel magazine, she has been thinking of little else than visiting the historic city.
SAM GORTON wears many hats in Gold Bluff –realtor, mayor, head of the school board and one of the town’s developers.
Gold Bluff is a relatively newly developed city, however very few residents are aware of that small fact.  The developers never intended to pass the city off as a true historical site.  It was only after a night of too much celebrating during which they created a history for their little faux gold rush city that things began to get messy.
If those two old codgers, Old Tom and Uncle Billy, hadn’t passed the story on to the national magazine’s writer as actual fact everything would be fine.  No story—no history—just a sweet little mountain town, reminiscent of times gone by.
But sparks being to fly, first between Eden and Sam, and then throughout the entire town.  Will Gold Bluff survive its second gold rush?



Excerpt
If anyone happened to glance at the two old men who sat outside the Golf Bluff Mercantile, they could not have helped but notice the dual glimmers of mischief sparkling from their eyes. The mid-summer sun warmed their tired bones as they rested on the store’s weathered bench while watching the comings and goings of their neighbors.  The store’s screen door swung open, drawing two pairs of curious eyes. “Hey, there, Sammy,” one of the two men greeted the man who had just left the store.“Morning, Tom, Uncle Billy.”“Morning, Sam. Did you hear about that rainbow trout I took out’a the river last week? A real record breaker, she was.”“Humph! Some record,” his friend snorted. “That fish along with three others.”“Now…”“Sorry, fellas, I’d love to stay for the argument, but I’ve got a ten o’clock appointment to interview a teacher for the new high school. She ought to be here any minute now—wouldn’t want to keep her waitingThe two old men watched the tall, angular younger man amble across the road. “That Sammy. I’ve always said he was about the nicest guy this town has to offer.”“Yep, I always set quite a store by him myself.”“Can’t figure out why he never got married.”“Sammy, married? Now, why’d he want to go and do something stupid like that?”Just as Tom found the perfect retort to his friend’s comment a well-traveled, four door sedan pulled up to the curb and parked. A bemused expression filled both of their eyes as they heard the car’s spring’s groan as an overly endowed woman climbed out of the driver’s seat.Each man nodded to her in greeting as the woman climbed the three steps leading into the store. As the screened door closed behind her, they turned their attentions away from her and back to the empty street.*****Eden’s gaze locked on the image in the mirror. The furrow between her brows deepened as she examined her reflection one feature at a time. There was nothing like a job interview to remind a person of their inadequacies. Knowing the impact of first impressions, she’d gone way beyond her usual grooming routine, hoping to strike the perfect balance between her usual casual look and the professional appearance she imagined her interviewer would be looking for.She’d thought long and hard before applying eyeliner and mascara. She really didn’t like wearing all that goop on her face, but after grimacing at herself in the mirror, she’d decided the job interview called for the whole works, applying both with a light hand. The final touch was a russet hued lip-gloss, which brought out the deeper tones of her strawberry blond hair. That was it; she’d done just about all she could do.Here she was dressed in an outfit she would never wear on the job, made up to look like someone she wasn’t. She’d do all the textbook interview stuff, sit prim and proper, smile with the correct amount of intensity, and answer all the interviewer’s questions with just the right amount of self-assurance. Did she dare show she had a sense of humor? Would it be considered an asset or a liability?All this anxiety for a job she didn’t actually need. She had a perfectly good job, for pity’s sake. Even had tenure! Why go through all this? Because she wanted this job like she hadn’t wanted anything for a very long time—that was why. A thrill of expectation washed over her as she lowered her gaze to the opened magazine she had placed on the vanity beside her makeup case. “Gold Bluff, California”, the title of the article read, “A City That Lives Its History.” The photographs accompanying the article said nearly as much as the text. Wooden sidewalks, a relic of a general store, a gold rush era cemetery, all told of a town frozen in time. It was a history buff’s dream come true…her dream come true.*****Leaving the old men to their people watching, Sam glanced both ways before crossing the street. Not surprisingly, there were no vehicles coming from either direction. He had to smile at himself. What had he expected, gridlock? Having spent most of his life dealing with the everyday craziness of one city or another, his urban survival instincts were firmly entrenched. He checked his watch as he stepped onto the wooden walk, noting that he still had a few minutes left before his appointment. The smile left his face as he thought about the ordeal he was soon to be put through. Damn, he hated interviews! No matter how many questions you asked, how in hell were you expected to know which person would be the best for the job? When you got right down to it, some people were good at interviews and lousy at the job, while others were terrible at interviews and wonderful employees. From where he sat, the whole process was nothing but a crap shoot. And he was the guy who had to run the game.*****When Eden had first seen the article in Today’s American Scene she’d been hopelessly entranced. The writer described a town, founded in the wild days of California’s gold rush, still virtually intact. Set in the far northern part of the state, Gold Bluff had somehow managed to maintain its historical integrity yet still provide a lively, productive home for its residents.Although she was intrigued by the article, several months had passed before she found the time to check the town out. When she’d first picked up the magazine the fall semester was just getting into full swing, a time too filled with lesson plans and paper grading to allow her to do the sort of research her curiosity demanded. Finally, during spring break, she’d gone on the web, hoping to find more information about this unique city. The site was lovely, with photos echoing those she’d already seen in the Today’s American Scene magazine along with text describing the local businesses and community happenings. She tapped at the link to the Gold Bluff Chamber of Commerce, spending nearly an hour checking out various business establishments. Returning to the main page, her attention was drawn to a link titled “Gold Bluff Unified School District – Employment Opportunities.” Thinking, ‘why not?’ she clicked on it. It wasn’t as if she was thinking of leaving her current job. She’d been teaching at the same high school in San Francisco ever since leaving college, and had no plans to leave. But still, it wouldn’t hurt to look, right?Before turning off her computer she’d done far more than just look. From the moment the School District page opened she had been completely mesmerized. The high school was brand new and the School Board was in the process of accepting applications. A brand new school—away from the city—in an honest to goodness gold rush era town, could anything come closer to heaven?She wondered what else beside the high school was modern about Gold Bluff.  From the pictures she had seen of the city it appeared as if the town had not changed since the days of California’s famous gold rush.  But, of course, that could hardly be possible.  There must be some modern enterprises in or near the town.  She just hoped there wouldn’t be enough to spoil the town’s charm.Heart racing, she had filled out the online application, then sent it off into cyber space before stopping to wonder what she’d do if she was actually offered a position. Laughing at her uncharacteristically spontaneous action, she’d shut down the computer and put the whole incident out of her mind. She’d never hear back from them, so why worry?But she had heard back. Phone calls had followed emails. An appointment had been made. And now here she was, staying in an honest-to-goodness boarding house, in an honest-to-goodness gold rush town, worrying about what to wear to an interview she had never believed would happen.“Okay, kid, here you go!” she said as she closed the door to her room and descended the stairs. “Wish me luck, Mrs. Manning!” she called out to the boarding house’s proprietor as she strode through the main gathering room.“Oh, I do, dear. But you won’t need luck from me. That job has your name written on it.”Eden wished she had as much confidence in herself as Mrs. Manning apparently did. Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and began the short walk to the head of the School Board’s office, leaving her car where she had parked it the previous night.*****“Morning, Sara,” Bill Johnson greeted the middle aged woman as she walked up the steps of the store. “How are those two grandkids of yours?”“They’re doing fine, Uncle Billy. And you?”“Couldn’t be better.”He waited until the door closed firmly behind the woman before turning to his companion.“A couple of heathens, those two,” he said, his smile indicating that, in his opinion, being a heathen was a worthy accomplishment for a boy.“Yeah, real wild Indians,” Tom agreed with a sage nod.Silence settled between them as they continued their vigil of the town’s main street. A puff of warm, dry air swept down the street, past the two old men, pushing a swirl of dry leaves before it. The scent it carried promised that autumn would soon be upon the small mountain community.The sound of a door opening and closing at Clara Manning’s boarding house style bed and breakfast a few doors down the street caught both men’s attention. They watched with interest as a young woman crossed the covered porch and stepped down the wide steps, then turned to walk in their direction. “I bet that’s her, that school teacher Sammy’ll be interviewing. Kind’a small, but nice looking all the same.” Uncle Billy’s sky blue eyes lit up with interest as he tracked the young woman’s progress. He watched appreciatively as she walked toward them.“Too short. I like ‘em leggier.” Old Tom observed. His dry voice matched his looks, tall and lanky with the weathered skin of a man who had spent most of his days out of doors.“Leggier! What’s wrong with your eyes, old man? There’s not a damn thing wrong with that girl’s legs.”“That about four or five more inches wouldn’t cure.”“And that comment comes from a man who picked a gal not more’n five feet tall to marry more’n fifty years ago. Your tastes change since then?”“Nope, always liked ‘em tall. Ella was just the exception, that’s all. I married her in spite of her being just a tiny thing, not because of it.”“And I suppose you’d take points off for that girl’s strawberry blond hair, which in my opinion is as pretty a sight as you’re likely to see.”“Gives her freckles. Never could abide freckles.”“Freckles! Are you crazy, you doddering old fool? Why that young lady is …why, she’s…” For once words completely abandoned Billy.  “Go on, you were saying?” Tom goaded.“Nothin’. I wasn’t saying nothin’,” Uncle Billy harrumphed as he leaned back against the wall of the Gold Bluff Mercantile. “He won’t like her.” “What? Now that’s just about the meanest thing you’ve said all day! What the heck’s not to like about that nice young lady?”“Heard she was from Frisco. Who wants someone who’s been teaching those artsy fartsy kids down there?”“Dang it! There you go again, saying the stupidest things just to get my goat!”“Worked, didn’t it?” When Tom chuckled his weather beaten old face formed a myriad of laugh wrinkles.


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Experts Abound

This is mostly for new writers, but those of us who have been around for a while do need the occasional reminder. Over the last few years, a plethora of experts in the areas we need to have our books published and selling have popped up.  Everything from editors to marketing mavens are around to assist you, for a price. Before you pay that price, learn how to check out the person.
Editors: Unless you live in a cave in the middle of nowhere, you can have your manuscript read and suggestions made on how to improve it through the use of critique groups or beta readers. It’s strongly suggested that you get to know other writers willing to assist with this, rather than family and close friends, who will often pat your back and say they have never read a better book. Your mission at this point is to ready your book for submission to a publisher or to publish yourself. Therefore, you need someone who will be critical, who won’t be afraid to tell you that something doesn’t work, your sub-plot is overwhelming your main plot, or that your middle is sadly sagging and your ending doesn’t work. These people don’t have an axe to grind. All they are doing is letting you know what your readers will say once your book is published, or why a publisher doesn’t hand you a contract.
If you do decide to hire a professional editor, be prepared to pay for it. By pay, I mean that editors can run from fifty cents a page to more than fifteen dollars a page. Multiply that by the average 250 page manuscript and you can be paying anywhere from $125 to $3750 to have your book edited. And that doesn’t mean you’ll have a manuscript ready for publication. If you don’t do your due diligence when hiring an editor, you could be paying to make things worse.
How do you do this due diligence? One way is that the editor has recommendations or tributes from satisfied customers posted on their website. Those are good, but it is in your best interest to check out that information. Ask the potential editor if they are able to have several people they’ve done work for contact you. Be prepared with a list of questions about how quickly the editor worked, did they find all the problems, and was the editor someone who will discuss with you what they’ve done. Your next step should be to do a search on the editor’s name with editor behind it. You may find information indicating this is someone you don’t want to work with, or you may discover you’ve found a rare gem and are now ready to write that check.
Proofreaders: “Ha!” you proclaim. “I don’t need a proofreader. I’m perfectly capable of doing that myself.” Sure you are. You are probably the best proofreader you know. Now that we have that little bit of sarcasm out of the way, stop and think. You know your book very well. From front to back, every nuance, every bit of brilliant dialogue, every single piece of narrative is exactly how you want it. There are no misplaced words, no duplications, all the punctuation is in place. Why waste your money on a proofreader?
Here’s where a good beta reader comes in very handy. They can see the things you’ll miss—and you will miss things, because you are so familiar with your manuscript. It’s far cheaper to trade manuscripts with another author friend to proofread than it is to hire a proofreader, who you must check out as you do an editor.
Cover artist: Your book cover is the first thing a potential reader sees. It must invite them into your story, but also not give away anything important. You want the absolute best cover possible, and you’ve discovered the internet has a massive amount of cover artists who can not only create your cover, they guarantee you that any publisher will love it.
Stop! Halt! Don’t you dare commit money for an independent cover if you plan on submitting to a publisher. Chances are very good that you will have wasted that money. Publishers have cover artists on contract. These cover artists are also very good at their job. A reputable publisher won’t charge you for the cover art. In fact, if you argue the point with a publisher, you may very well find yourself with a cover you love, but no publisher willing to offer you a contract.
Marketing Mavens:A lot of book promotion these days is done via the internet. You can reach so many more people this way. But the internet can be a very confusing place for those of us who don’t spend a lot of time on it. The overabundance of websites dedicated to promoting your novel is frightening to the first time author. Many wither beneath the onslaught of terms like “Facebook fan page,” “Twitter,” “Pinterest,” “blog,” “website,” “Goodreads,” “YouTube,” “Google +,” “Instagram,” and the many, many other sites you can use for promotion. I have to admit that I was overwhelmed when I started out too, but I learned quickly, through trial and error, that the best person to depend upon to take care of your promotion is you. You know your work. You are the one most familiar with what are the best points for teasers.
If, however, you feel your day job, family obligations, and any other of a number of things will prevent you from properly marketing your book, you might want to research those who will do that for you. You will want to thoroughly check these people out. Not just glowing recommendations on their website, but seeing if they are actually doing the things people say they are. Contact their clients privately, asking if they are really well represented or does the marketer tend to slide when tweeting? Maybe they don’t attract the right type of bloggers to promote your releases. Their Facebook promotion skills might be limited to a few links a week, whereas you’re longing for the type of promotion that doesn’t always include a link to your book. Marketers aren’t cheap and you may find after a few months that they don’t improve the sales like they said they could. So, if you do decide to sign with one, insist that the contract is quarterly, with an option to leave without penalty if the individual isn’t doing their job for any reason.
Remember this piece of advice: There are many people who claim to be experts on the internet. Some may also say they have a B.A. or Masters in whatever field where they say they are the expert. A good marketer can improve your book sales and assist your with branding your name, but you can’t expect them to do the whole job. You need to be aware of anything and everything going on about your book. At the first sign of trouble with the expert you’ve hired, you should curtly inform them that you no longer require their services and move on to another method.

Teaser Tuesday ~ A.A. Schenna ~ Trapped in Timelessness Fallen Angels

Bio:
A.A Schenna was born on May 8, 1982 and currently lives with his partner Maria in Athens, Greece. As a child, A.A dreamed of being a cardiac surgeon. Later, Schenna realized that this was not what he wanted. Writing has always been his greatest pleasure. When he doesn’t write action, adventure, romance stories or anything else, he reads everything. Schenna admires all the writers he comes across and enjoys talking about books and magazines. A.A loves meeting new people and discovering new places. 


Blurb:
The carefree stroll in the woods managed to trap them in timelessness. The four students along with their teachers would have to deal with an absurd fate.
The red scorpions, the large eagles, the nasty bats, and the bloody creatures were determined to haunt them forever. The moment they came across the craziest adventure of their lives, they would have to struggle to survive. *** Green Lake was a beautiful place any time of year, a beautiful place where ten people disappeared every century at the end of a muddy rope.
On the verge of graduation, Nick and Leona knew nothing of this. It wasn't until the nightmare came for them that the curse became real, and their futures changed far beyond what they could have ever dreamed.***The black angels have come, destroying the world to remake it in their own image. Some humans will survive, even overcome. As their world burns, they will rise from the ashes.


Excerpt:
Shortly After The Final Appearance Of The Black AngelsMinnesota, U.S.Nowadays
I never thought I would live like a wild beast. The moment I heard the rest of our team screaming while searching for something to eat, I froze, paralyzed in fear and disgust.I rested my hands on the rough ground and squeezed the black sand with my dirty, skinny fingers. I thought the whole situation was tragic, it was insane; no one was supposed to live like that.
I looked up at the sky and already knew I would be disappointed again. I was looking forward to seeing the sun but, for once more, I came across vanity and despair.
The blue color had vanished as the dust had covered everything and, during the night, you could see no clouds, no stars, not even the moon.
The strange fog along with the ash carried on wrapping the whole place up. Then again, the grey and the black colors had settled in front of my eyes and, as far as I could tell, they would remain there forever.
Although the intense heat belonged to the past, I was sure that we hadn’t seen anything yet. Soon, the weather conditions would change and the lack of sunlight would cause us more problems, making our living more difficult.
I swept my face and felt my dry eyes ready to pop out and, while I kept looking around me, the picture was still the same. I could sense the dangerous silence and, at the same time, I couldn’t explain how we managed to land at zero, destroying everything we had achieved.
Out of the blue, most of the world’s population was gone--assuming due to a tragic sun explosion.***Yorkshire, U.K.
Nancy ran to Ryan and hid in his arms, her lips quivering in fear. She rested her head on his chest; her blonde hair covering the pain of his soul and the tears of hopelessness.
“What did you see?” Ryan asked.
“I saw the same thing again.” Nancy was scared to death.
Although Nancy and Ryan loved summer walks, that year they abstained from strolling in the forest during their free time. They stopped enjoying their lovely moments under the stars of the peaceful, summer nights and they remained in their small, white house –a mile outside of town--gazing at the beautiful, large maple trees.
The last month, the residents of Criston Valley had become curious about the charming couple and since everyone knew their story, they couldn’t stop wondering whether everything was fine or not. No one would forget the determination Nancy and Ryan had shown even as teenagers to stay together forever.
In their early twenties, Nancy and Ryan got married and, since then, ten years had already passed. They loved one another and never gave up doing their best to maintain the flames of love in their marriage.
The beautiful couple had managed to steal the attention of the small town since they were young, helpful, and kind with everyone.***Sydney, Australia
Her beautiful, long fingers slept on the yellow curtains as her blue eyes kept searching for the prince she was waiting for. Her mind continued making plans for the future whereas the sun’s rays ran into her pale face, enlightening her complexion and changing her mood.
The girl loved looking outside; she liked watching the beautiful valley across their lovely farm. She felt like being a part of a wonderful picture where the green color along with the rest of the colors of the spring had started dominating in the whole area. She pulled her blonde hair back while her long, yellow dress made her look like Dimitra, the ancient Greek goddess of agriculture and fertility.
The young girl turned back and smiled at her mother who liked staring at her daughter in silence, trying to guess her thoughts. Although her daughter had never revealed her inner feelings, she could understand and explain the signs of love.
“It’s nice being in love, but we have many things to do,” the mother said vaguely.
The middle-aged woman took off her white coat and left it on the chair while she came closer to her daughter and caressed her sweet face.
“There is not only Patrick in your life, Abby,” she said.
“I know that, Mother,” Abby answered angrily.
“Since dinner is ready, I want you to call your father.” The woman abstained from saying anything else because she hated seeing her daughter defensive, being unwilling to talk about her relationship.
“Yes, Mother,” Abby whispered.
“That’s great, thank you, baby.” The woman knew that she had to wait for her daughter’s acceptance.

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