Meradeth Houston's Blog, page 36
January 27, 2015
Guest Post and Blog Tour for UNSPEAKABLE by Michelle K. Pickett
Michelle is one of my writing besties--the person who gets my long, rambly emails when things are going great, or not so great! And hey, could you help support the release of Unspeakable on Thunderclap? Super easy and so much help! :)
Title: Unspeakable Series: The Freedom Series, Book 1Author: Michelle K. PickettPublished: February 10th, 2015 Publisher: Clean Teen PublishingGenre: YA Mature Contemporary RomanceContent Warning: Abuse, adult language, non-explicit sexual situations, and mild drug useRecommended Age: 14+
Synopsis:
“Breathe. No one will break me. I’m strong. Breathe. Just breathe.”
On the outside, Willow appears to have it all. She’s beautiful, smart, from an influential family, and she dates the most popular guy in school—Jaden. But she would walk away from it all in a second. Willow is tormented by lies and suffocating guilt, not the hearts and flowers people believe her life is full of.She carries a dark secret. Plagued by nightmares and pain, the secret dominates her life. If she hadn’t walked away. If she had just…but she didn’t. And now she has to live with her choice. But when someone uncovers her family’s past, they use it against her, crushing her spirit little by little. She tells herself she just has to make it to graduation. Then she can leave Middleton, and her secret, far behind.
When Brody transfers to Cassidy High, he turns Willow’s life upside down. He shows her what it feels like to live again, really live. And suddenly, she isn’t satisfied with just surviving until graduation. She wants a normal life—with Brody—and he wants her. But the closer they become, the more it threatens to unravel the secret she’s worked so hard to hide.
Willow finds true love with Brody. Will she let his love save her, or walk away from him to keep her secret safe?Amazon | Barnes & Noble | GoodReads
Guest Post for Unspeakable by Michelle K. Pickett:
Why did you feel compelled to take on such a tough topic, like those in Unspeakable?
Thank you, Meradeth, for having me on your blog today to talk about “Unspeakable!” I’m so excited for its release. It’s my first young adult contemporary, and honestly one of the favorite books I’ve written. It touches on topics that are very close and meaningful to me. Although my journey with domestic violence has ended, my heart aches for those still fighting the war. They feel alone. Scared. Broken.According to the CDC, twenty people per minute are victims of some type of physical violence in their relationship. The United States Department of Justice estimates 960,000 cases of domestic violence occur a year, and many more are never reported because our legal system’s laws are so archaic they do very little to protect the victims. Those statistics alone are alarming, but the statistics on abuse of teen girls shocked me. The percentage of female high school students who report being physically or sexually abused by a dating partner is roughly twenty percent. And those are just the cases that are reported. My heart aches for those teens who are suffering in silence.I had a police officer for a neighbor a few years ago. He and his family were awesome people, and I loved having them as neighbors. I was closer to the wife, than the husband (officer). Although, he was always friendly, eager to help if he could, and just an all-around great person with a huge heart for others. But he carried a weight. I could see it in his eyes, and sometimes his wife would mention how a day, or a call, was just so bad, he had trouble leaving it at work. He relived things over and over, worrying about the victims—were they safe, scared, taken care of? Like I said, a truly good man and police officer. But when he was dispatched to certain calls, they would sometimes affect him so deeply it eventually spilled over into other areas of his life. His demeanor changed. Not from a nice guy to an ogre. No. He became a man whose heart was a little bit broken piece by piece every time he dealt with a domestic violence case. Especially involving children.So, why am I telling you about him? Because I want victims of domestic violence to know there are people with them. They aren’t alone, as most feel. Your situation is horrible, but there are ways to change it. But you have to find an organization to help you, and then you have to use your voice. Don’t stay silent like Willow in the book. There are some situations that require a little different approach, but there are people who want to help if a person is strong enough and brave enough to reach out. That’s what I hope “Unspeakable” shows readers.Although “Unspeakable” touches on some serious topics, I didn’t want the book to be “dark.” I wanted to show some happiness in Willow’s life. So I tried to keep Willow’s story light, and depicted her as an intelligent, strong, normal teenager, who falls in love with a guy who wants nothing more than to keep her safe and happy. While readers will see into Willow’s home life and the abuse she suffered—they will also see the romance slowly develop between her and Brody. The romance is meant to symbolize hope to readers who might read the book and think, “That’s me.”Thank you so much for allowing me the opportunity to share my connection with the story in “Unspeakable,” and Willow. I want to end by saying there are organizations that are available to victims. A list is included in the back of “Unspeakable” and many more can be found with a simple Internet search.Thank you again, and please be safe,Michelle ☺
Excerpt:I was lying across my bed, working on my calculus, when my phone chimed. I grabbed the phone off the table next to my bed and smiled. BRODY: whatcha doing? ME: calc. you? BRODY: same. wanna talk? ME: sure.My phone rang just a few seconds later. “Hello?” “Hey,” Brody said, his voice sliding over me like velvet rope. It caressed me as it squeezed the air from my lungs. “Hi.” I cringed when my voice came out all squeaky and breathy. “When you asked if I wanted to talk, I thought you meant texting.” “Oh. Sorry, we can hang up and just text.” “No! No, it just surprised me when the phone rang. So, what did you want to talk about?” I asked him. “What are you wearing?” he whispered. “Um, what?” He laughed loudly into the phone. “I’m kidding, Willow,” he said when his chuckles faded. “Oh, you were kidding? I was totally gonna to tell you if you told me…” I let my words trail off. I heard him inhale. “Um, I think we need to move on to safer, more friend appropriate topics.” I laughed. “Okay, you pick the topic.” “Do you have a TV in your room with satellite?” Brody asked. “Yes.” “Good. Turn to channel 235.” I flipped to the channel Brody suggested. “Oh, I’ve wanted to see this movie.” I pulled the blankets back on my bed and slipped under them, bunching the pillows behind my back. “Good, I haven’t seen it yet either. We can watch it together.” “Are you in bed?” I asked. “Yeah.” His voice came out huskier than normal. “This is new. It’s kinda fun. Only, there’s one thing missing,” Brody murmured. “It is fun. What’s missing?” “You. I wish you were here, not there.” “Oh.” I wasn’t sure what to say. I was glad he couldn’t see me because I was grinning like a fool. “Look. That’s just cheesy,” I said. “It’s a movie about zombie aliens. I think we passed cheesy a long time ago. Oh, look at her. Now we’re getting somewhere.” “You’re such a perv.” “What? I’m a guy and she’s hot. If she’s going to walk around naked, I’m gonna look and appreciate the fine job God did assembling her.” “Ugh. Whatever.” I rolled my eyes. “Stop rolling your eyes.” “I didn’t.” “Yes, you did. I heard it in your voice,” he said with a laugh. “Oh! What do we have here? It’s the male species joining the bimbo in the shower. Mmm, he’s nice to look at. Great butt.” I sighed. “Now who’s the perv?” “Me. I never said I wasn’t.” Brody laughed. “Good to know.” He cleared his throat, and his voice was a little huskier than normal when he said, “Love scene.” Our easy teasing ended while the television played a very hot love scene—how it got only an R-rating was a miracle. I watched it on my television, hearing the moans and sighs from Brody’s television echoing through the phone. Awkward. I could hear every breath Brody took. I could tell when his breathing sped up. I heard the small groan he made and the rustle of blankets and I wondered what was making him uncomfortable, the love scene or watching it with me on the other end of the phone.
About the Author:Michelle is the bestselling author of the young adult novel “PODs.” She was born and raised in Flint, Michigan, but now lives in a sleepy suburb outside Houston with her extremely supportive husband, three school-aged children, a 125 pound “lap dog,” and a very snooty cat.
Red Bull or Monster Khaos are her coffee of choice, and she can’t write without peanut butter M&Ms and a hoodie. A hopeful romantic; she loves a swoon-worthy ending that will give her butterflies for days. She writes across genres in the young adult and new adult age groups. She loves to hear from her readers.
Michelle signed her new young adult contemporary novel— Unspeakable, with Clean Teen Publishing in 2014. Amazon Author Page | Facebook | Twitter | GoodReads | Blog
Clean Teen Publishing Links:Website Blog Facebook TwitterGiveaway Details: There is a tour wide giveaway. Prizes include the following:A bookmark swag pack, winner’s choice of any Clean Teen Publishing eBook, and a $15 Amazon gift card.Giveaway is International.a Rafflecopter giveaway
Title: Unspeakable Series: The Freedom Series, Book 1Author: Michelle K. PickettPublished: February 10th, 2015 Publisher: Clean Teen PublishingGenre: YA Mature Contemporary RomanceContent Warning: Abuse, adult language, non-explicit sexual situations, and mild drug useRecommended Age: 14+
Synopsis:
“Breathe. No one will break me. I’m strong. Breathe. Just breathe.”
On the outside, Willow appears to have it all. She’s beautiful, smart, from an influential family, and she dates the most popular guy in school—Jaden. But she would walk away from it all in a second. Willow is tormented by lies and suffocating guilt, not the hearts and flowers people believe her life is full of.She carries a dark secret. Plagued by nightmares and pain, the secret dominates her life. If she hadn’t walked away. If she had just…but she didn’t. And now she has to live with her choice. But when someone uncovers her family’s past, they use it against her, crushing her spirit little by little. She tells herself she just has to make it to graduation. Then she can leave Middleton, and her secret, far behind.
When Brody transfers to Cassidy High, he turns Willow’s life upside down. He shows her what it feels like to live again, really live. And suddenly, she isn’t satisfied with just surviving until graduation. She wants a normal life—with Brody—and he wants her. But the closer they become, the more it threatens to unravel the secret she’s worked so hard to hide.
Willow finds true love with Brody. Will she let his love save her, or walk away from him to keep her secret safe?Amazon | Barnes & Noble | GoodReads
Guest Post for Unspeakable by Michelle K. Pickett:
Why did you feel compelled to take on such a tough topic, like those in Unspeakable?
Thank you, Meradeth, for having me on your blog today to talk about “Unspeakable!” I’m so excited for its release. It’s my first young adult contemporary, and honestly one of the favorite books I’ve written. It touches on topics that are very close and meaningful to me. Although my journey with domestic violence has ended, my heart aches for those still fighting the war. They feel alone. Scared. Broken.According to the CDC, twenty people per minute are victims of some type of physical violence in their relationship. The United States Department of Justice estimates 960,000 cases of domestic violence occur a year, and many more are never reported because our legal system’s laws are so archaic they do very little to protect the victims. Those statistics alone are alarming, but the statistics on abuse of teen girls shocked me. The percentage of female high school students who report being physically or sexually abused by a dating partner is roughly twenty percent. And those are just the cases that are reported. My heart aches for those teens who are suffering in silence.I had a police officer for a neighbor a few years ago. He and his family were awesome people, and I loved having them as neighbors. I was closer to the wife, than the husband (officer). Although, he was always friendly, eager to help if he could, and just an all-around great person with a huge heart for others. But he carried a weight. I could see it in his eyes, and sometimes his wife would mention how a day, or a call, was just so bad, he had trouble leaving it at work. He relived things over and over, worrying about the victims—were they safe, scared, taken care of? Like I said, a truly good man and police officer. But when he was dispatched to certain calls, they would sometimes affect him so deeply it eventually spilled over into other areas of his life. His demeanor changed. Not from a nice guy to an ogre. No. He became a man whose heart was a little bit broken piece by piece every time he dealt with a domestic violence case. Especially involving children.So, why am I telling you about him? Because I want victims of domestic violence to know there are people with them. They aren’t alone, as most feel. Your situation is horrible, but there are ways to change it. But you have to find an organization to help you, and then you have to use your voice. Don’t stay silent like Willow in the book. There are some situations that require a little different approach, but there are people who want to help if a person is strong enough and brave enough to reach out. That’s what I hope “Unspeakable” shows readers.Although “Unspeakable” touches on some serious topics, I didn’t want the book to be “dark.” I wanted to show some happiness in Willow’s life. So I tried to keep Willow’s story light, and depicted her as an intelligent, strong, normal teenager, who falls in love with a guy who wants nothing more than to keep her safe and happy. While readers will see into Willow’s home life and the abuse she suffered—they will also see the romance slowly develop between her and Brody. The romance is meant to symbolize hope to readers who might read the book and think, “That’s me.”Thank you so much for allowing me the opportunity to share my connection with the story in “Unspeakable,” and Willow. I want to end by saying there are organizations that are available to victims. A list is included in the back of “Unspeakable” and many more can be found with a simple Internet search.Thank you again, and please be safe,Michelle ☺
Excerpt:I was lying across my bed, working on my calculus, when my phone chimed. I grabbed the phone off the table next to my bed and smiled. BRODY: whatcha doing? ME: calc. you? BRODY: same. wanna talk? ME: sure.My phone rang just a few seconds later. “Hello?” “Hey,” Brody said, his voice sliding over me like velvet rope. It caressed me as it squeezed the air from my lungs. “Hi.” I cringed when my voice came out all squeaky and breathy. “When you asked if I wanted to talk, I thought you meant texting.” “Oh. Sorry, we can hang up and just text.” “No! No, it just surprised me when the phone rang. So, what did you want to talk about?” I asked him. “What are you wearing?” he whispered. “Um, what?” He laughed loudly into the phone. “I’m kidding, Willow,” he said when his chuckles faded. “Oh, you were kidding? I was totally gonna to tell you if you told me…” I let my words trail off. I heard him inhale. “Um, I think we need to move on to safer, more friend appropriate topics.” I laughed. “Okay, you pick the topic.” “Do you have a TV in your room with satellite?” Brody asked. “Yes.” “Good. Turn to channel 235.” I flipped to the channel Brody suggested. “Oh, I’ve wanted to see this movie.” I pulled the blankets back on my bed and slipped under them, bunching the pillows behind my back. “Good, I haven’t seen it yet either. We can watch it together.” “Are you in bed?” I asked. “Yeah.” His voice came out huskier than normal. “This is new. It’s kinda fun. Only, there’s one thing missing,” Brody murmured. “It is fun. What’s missing?” “You. I wish you were here, not there.” “Oh.” I wasn’t sure what to say. I was glad he couldn’t see me because I was grinning like a fool. “Look. That’s just cheesy,” I said. “It’s a movie about zombie aliens. I think we passed cheesy a long time ago. Oh, look at her. Now we’re getting somewhere.” “You’re such a perv.” “What? I’m a guy and she’s hot. If she’s going to walk around naked, I’m gonna look and appreciate the fine job God did assembling her.” “Ugh. Whatever.” I rolled my eyes. “Stop rolling your eyes.” “I didn’t.” “Yes, you did. I heard it in your voice,” he said with a laugh. “Oh! What do we have here? It’s the male species joining the bimbo in the shower. Mmm, he’s nice to look at. Great butt.” I sighed. “Now who’s the perv?” “Me. I never said I wasn’t.” Brody laughed. “Good to know.” He cleared his throat, and his voice was a little huskier than normal when he said, “Love scene.” Our easy teasing ended while the television played a very hot love scene—how it got only an R-rating was a miracle. I watched it on my television, hearing the moans and sighs from Brody’s television echoing through the phone. Awkward. I could hear every breath Brody took. I could tell when his breathing sped up. I heard the small groan he made and the rustle of blankets and I wondered what was making him uncomfortable, the love scene or watching it with me on the other end of the phone.
About the Author:Michelle is the bestselling author of the young adult novel “PODs.” She was born and raised in Flint, Michigan, but now lives in a sleepy suburb outside Houston with her extremely supportive husband, three school-aged children, a 125 pound “lap dog,” and a very snooty cat.Red Bull or Monster Khaos are her coffee of choice, and she can’t write without peanut butter M&Ms and a hoodie. A hopeful romantic; she loves a swoon-worthy ending that will give her butterflies for days. She writes across genres in the young adult and new adult age groups. She loves to hear from her readers.
Michelle signed her new young adult contemporary novel— Unspeakable, with Clean Teen Publishing in 2014. Amazon Author Page | Facebook | Twitter | GoodReads | Blog
Clean Teen Publishing Links:Website Blog Facebook TwitterGiveaway Details: There is a tour wide giveaway. Prizes include the following:A bookmark swag pack, winner’s choice of any Clean Teen Publishing eBook, and a $15 Amazon gift card.Giveaway is International.a Rafflecopter giveaway 
January 26, 2015
Giveaway and Other Fun Things!
Hi! Today is the start of spring semester (aka, crazy-Meradeth time), as well as a whole lot of other insanity when it comes to the day job. I'm hoping that in about a month I'll have a much better idea of what my future holds here in Montana, and until then I may be a little light on the internet usage (my *big* interview is in three weeks--cue the stress!). BUT, that doesn't mean that I'm not up for some fun stuff :)
If you subscribe to my newsletter, you may have seen my letter that went out last week. If not, you can check it out here. (And if you want to ensure you don't miss any in the future, sign up here.) Here's the gist of things:
Colors Like Memories is still free, though this is the last week. I doubt my publisher will be doing this again anytime soon, so be sure to grab a copy, m'k? :) And because it's the last week, I'd like to have another promotional push, to, well, go out with a bang. If you'd like to help me spread the word, I'm offering two $5 Amazon gift cards.
Here's the deal:
Post a link and some kind of recommendation on your facebook/twitter/pinterest/instagram/tumblr/blog.Collect the links.Send me the links in an email with the subject "Colors Giveaway" to mhouston@meradethhouston.com, or post them in a comment below.The person with the most share links with win one of the gift cards.I will randomly chose another share link for the other gift card.All posts must be made and sent to me by January 30th.
Questions? Ask away! And thanks a million for helping me out!
Don't know what to write? Here's a sample post for twitter or facebook:
Julia has a secret: she killed the guy she loved. It was an accident--sort of. COLORS LIKE MEMORIES is #free! #YA http://amzn.to/1rf1l6O
OR
COLORS LIKE MEMORIES is #free! "I greeted his tombstone the way I always did-with a swift kick." #YA http://amzn.to/1rf1l6O
OR, here are a few pics to share, if that's more your thing :)
If you subscribe to my newsletter, you may have seen my letter that went out last week. If not, you can check it out here. (And if you want to ensure you don't miss any in the future, sign up here.) Here's the gist of things:
Colors Like Memories is still free, though this is the last week. I doubt my publisher will be doing this again anytime soon, so be sure to grab a copy, m'k? :) And because it's the last week, I'd like to have another promotional push, to, well, go out with a bang. If you'd like to help me spread the word, I'm offering two $5 Amazon gift cards.Here's the deal:
Post a link and some kind of recommendation on your facebook/twitter/pinterest/instagram/tumblr/blog.Collect the links.Send me the links in an email with the subject "Colors Giveaway" to mhouston@meradethhouston.com, or post them in a comment below.The person with the most share links with win one of the gift cards.I will randomly chose another share link for the other gift card.All posts must be made and sent to me by January 30th.
Questions? Ask away! And thanks a million for helping me out!
Don't know what to write? Here's a sample post for twitter or facebook:
Julia has a secret: she killed the guy she loved. It was an accident--sort of. COLORS LIKE MEMORIES is #free! #YA http://amzn.to/1rf1l6O
OR
COLORS LIKE MEMORIES is #free! "I greeted his tombstone the way I always did-with a swift kick." #YA http://amzn.to/1rf1l6O
OR, here are a few pics to share, if that's more your thing :)
January 21, 2015
Book Blast for 52 LIKES by Medeia Sharif
Medeia's a regular around here, and her new novel is out now. I'm really looking forward to this and am showcasing it today!
52 LIKES, Evernight Teen , 2015
Purchase from Amazon, Evernight Teen (more on the author's site)
After a brutal rape and near-murder, Valerie wants to get past feelings of victimhood from both the assault and her history of being bullied. She’s plagued by not knowing the identity of her rapist and by the nasty rumors in school about that night. Valerie follows clues from ghostly entities, past victims of the rapist-murderer, contacting her through a social media site—why do all of their eerie photos have 52 likes under them? Their messages are leading her to the mystery man, although he’ll put up a fight to remain hidden.
Find Medeia – YA and MG Author
Blog | Twitter | Goodreads | Instagram | Amazon
a Rafflecopter giveaway
January 19, 2015
After Reading: THE ORPHAN OF TORUNDI by JL McCreedy
To find the truth, she must first uncover the lie ….Orphaned as an infant, Sam is raised by a pharmaceutical research mission in the rain forests of Torundi. She wields a mean machete, makes soap from candlenuts and is a fairly astute amateur entomologist. You know, the normal stuff. But a month before her seventeenth birthday, she is exiled to an American boarding school in Malaysia.
Armed with little more than her unusual upbringing and church-lady clothes, Sam must contend with her new existence as the world's most socially unprepared high school senior. Well that’s just fine. Because she is determined to solve the mystery behind her banishment and return home tout de suite.
But when she discovers the unthinkable – that her banishment is tied to an enigmatic corporation with illicit designs on Torundi – she realizes the real mystery she must uncover is ... why? Soon, Sam is caught in a whirlwind of intrigue, danger and greed. As she chases this thread of truth to its end, she unravels a plot that threatens her beloved Torundi, her trust in the boy she has grown to love and her own existence. (Goodreads)
Thanks to LibraryThing and Penelope Pipp Publishing for a copy of this book in exchange for my honest review.
I really wasn't sure what to expect from this novel, but when I opened it up I was pleasantly surprised to be drawn right into the story and characters that left me engaged and interested all the way through. Actually, I read this on a flight and didn't put it down the whole time, even to sleep. In particular, I enjoyed the setting--probably my favorite thing about the book--as it was so well depicted. I've always wanted to visit Malaysia and other parts of that region of the world and had a great time reading about them. Sam was a great character with a lot of courage and a fascinating story. There were a few times I got lost with the secondary characters, and there's a lot of shifting settings between the boarding school and Sam's island of Torundi, but overall I really enjoyed the novel!
Have you read a novel where the setting made you want to visit? Which book was it, and where did you want to go?
January 16, 2015
After Reading: THE ATTIC OF SAND AND SECRETS by Medeia Sharif
Lily, a learning disabled girl, attempts to unravel the mystery of her abducted mother using supernatural clues from an ancient stranger, even when it means posing a danger to herself. (Goodreads)Looking for the Evernight Teen giveaway? Check here and be sure to enter!
I am *so* behind on book reviews! Oops. Not that I haven't been reading a whole lot, because I have been, but I just haven't been blogging them. I'll get caught up one of these days. But I thought I'd start with my first book of 2015 and go in order :)
It was a treat to read this book, and Medeia has a way with creating interesting and complex characters that really draw the reader in. I enjoyed this novel a lot, especially the growth in Lily. The situation with her mother's abduction is incredibly tense and Lily manages to handle it well. Her journey to work out the clues and help bring her mother home was great and I found myself cheering her on. And really wanting to visit her father's pastry shop, haha! It was incredibly sad to see how little Lily thought of herself with her struggles in school, which made her growth and acceptance so much more rewarding. I recommend this one especially to those who enjoyed The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time, or if you just enjoy a good mystery with a little magic thrown in :)
January 12, 2015
Evernight Teen's Birthday Blog Hop and Giveaway!
Evernight Teen published my most recent release, An Absence of Light, and it was a pleasure to work with them! They're celebrating their birthday, and it's got some awesome prizes!
Happy Birthday to EVERNIGHT TEEN!
EVERNIGHT TEEN turns two this month and we’re having a huge party to celebrate! It may be EVERNIGHT TEEN’s birthday, but you get the presents. So, grab a piece of cake, hop from blog-to-blog and discover EVERNIGHT TEEN!
Be sure to visit every stop on the hop and answer each question. The more you blogs you hop, the more chances to win the GRAND PRIZE of an iPad Mini sponsored by EVERNIGHT TEEN (one entry per blog). Plus, hop each blog for a host of other fabulous prizes.
Have your TBR list handy because we have lots of new titles for you to add, including my featured book, An Absence of Light.
Today, I thought I'd share a little outtake from An Absence of Light--actually, kind of a big one: a whole character. Leah and Adam are the main couple in AAoL in the published form, but in the original draft, Leah dated a hottie from the auto shop she worked at for a while. Eddy, who was this adorable guy with dimples, well, it just hurt to cut him out. He currently lives in a file on my hard drive, and I hope that someday he finds his way into his own story. Anyhow, here's a little snippet of Eddy and Leah:
The next morning, Eddy was parked out front, driving a different car—a black Cadi composed of
more rust than metal. I stepped off of the steps from my place and crossed my arms over my chest, glaring down the drive at him.
He looked up and grinned.
“What’s going on?” I asked, walking to his window, which he pumped down with a squeal from the glass.
“Thought you might like a ride.”
“Yeah? Really?”
His tan deepened. “You always ride with Manuel. I thought I’d offer.”
It took a whole lot of effort to keep from grinning. I shouldn’t encourage him, but I had to admit there was some kind of charm with him sitting there, looking up at me all expectantly.
“So, you wanna ride to work?”
Sighing, I didn’t respond, just went around and dropped into the deep seat next to him. He pulled out a paper bag stained with grease, handing it to me. “I stopped at the bakery.”
Opening the bag let out a delicious scent that had me salivating. He’d obviously hit the Panaderia, and the warm breads coated with sugar were nearly gone by the time we pulled in at the garage.
“Damn girl, did you leave me anything?” Eddy laughed, pulling the bag away from me.
“Wait, that wasn’t my share?” I asked, feigning innocence.
He rolled his eyes and pulled out a giant pan-dulce, covered with a thick coating of white sugar in a shell pattern. “Thanks for not eating it all.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” I laughed, settling back in my seat. We were actually early. Manuel wasn’t there yet, and Andy hadn’t unlocked the main doors.
“I wasn’t so sure,” Eddy shook his head, wiping crumbs from his lips.
We sat in silence for a minute, me starting out of the car, not able to see anything. Emily’s words from yesterday about the shadows were creeping back into my mind, slowly circling like a giant shark about to attack. I needed to find out more, but didn’t know where to start.
I flinched when Eddy reached over, his fingertips brushing against mine on the seat. Glancing at him, I forced a small smile, struggling to keep my hand in place and not pull it away like Eddy was a leper.
Eddy’s fingers were warm when they slipped between mine. If I’d thought about it days ago, I would have been repulsed by the idea of allowing myself to do something like this. I had to keep my distance. It was for his safety.
Now it just felt good. Felt safe. Felt, well, just felt. Like something for once wasn’t bad, or stressful, or all confusing.
The knock on my window made me flinch, and Eddy’s fingers gripped mine more tightly. Outside the glass, Adam grinned at us.
I swallowed hard, knowing I was going to hear about this later. Adam held up his keys and jerked his thumb at the shop.
“Looks like work’s started,” Eddy muttered, clearly not relishing the interruption.
I hurried into the front office, busying myself with messages on the machine, updating our schedule, and placing some orders left over from last week.
And, just for fun, another little outtake, which explains why I often refer to this novel as X-Files meets Buffy:
“You know what they’ve always kind of reminded me of?” I asked. The guys shook their heads. “Ever watch the X-Files? You know the creepy alien virus slime things that attack people?”
Manuel chuckled, nodding. Adam gave me a one-eyebrow look like I’d lost my mind.
“They always made me think of a bigger version of those things. Gross, and almost like they’d be slimy, but still like a big shadow,” I continued.
“That does seem kind of right, I mean, at least how they look,” Adam conceded. “Thanks for ruining that show for me.”
“You’re totally welcome, Mulder,” I smirked.
Enter for a chance to win EVERNIGHT TEEN’s GRAND PRIZE of an iPad Mini and my blog prize by answering this question (be sure to include your email address to be eligible to win):
If you're a writer, have you ever had to cut a character? As a reader, what do you think when you hear about characters that get cut out?
The birthday blog hop continues here:
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Happy Birthday to EVERNIGHT TEEN!
EVERNIGHT TEEN turns two this month and we’re having a huge party to celebrate! It may be EVERNIGHT TEEN’s birthday, but you get the presents. So, grab a piece of cake, hop from blog-to-blog and discover EVERNIGHT TEEN!
Be sure to visit every stop on the hop and answer each question. The more you blogs you hop, the more chances to win the GRAND PRIZE of an iPad Mini sponsored by EVERNIGHT TEEN (one entry per blog). Plus, hop each blog for a host of other fabulous prizes.
Have your TBR list handy because we have lots of new titles for you to add, including my featured book, An Absence of Light.
Today, I thought I'd share a little outtake from An Absence of Light--actually, kind of a big one: a whole character. Leah and Adam are the main couple in AAoL in the published form, but in the original draft, Leah dated a hottie from the auto shop she worked at for a while. Eddy, who was this adorable guy with dimples, well, it just hurt to cut him out. He currently lives in a file on my hard drive, and I hope that someday he finds his way into his own story. Anyhow, here's a little snippet of Eddy and Leah:
The next morning, Eddy was parked out front, driving a different car—a black Cadi composed of
more rust than metal. I stepped off of the steps from my place and crossed my arms over my chest, glaring down the drive at him. He looked up and grinned.
“What’s going on?” I asked, walking to his window, which he pumped down with a squeal from the glass.
“Thought you might like a ride.”
“Yeah? Really?”
His tan deepened. “You always ride with Manuel. I thought I’d offer.”
It took a whole lot of effort to keep from grinning. I shouldn’t encourage him, but I had to admit there was some kind of charm with him sitting there, looking up at me all expectantly.
“So, you wanna ride to work?”
Sighing, I didn’t respond, just went around and dropped into the deep seat next to him. He pulled out a paper bag stained with grease, handing it to me. “I stopped at the bakery.”
Opening the bag let out a delicious scent that had me salivating. He’d obviously hit the Panaderia, and the warm breads coated with sugar were nearly gone by the time we pulled in at the garage.
“Damn girl, did you leave me anything?” Eddy laughed, pulling the bag away from me.
“Wait, that wasn’t my share?” I asked, feigning innocence.
He rolled his eyes and pulled out a giant pan-dulce, covered with a thick coating of white sugar in a shell pattern. “Thanks for not eating it all.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” I laughed, settling back in my seat. We were actually early. Manuel wasn’t there yet, and Andy hadn’t unlocked the main doors.
“I wasn’t so sure,” Eddy shook his head, wiping crumbs from his lips.
We sat in silence for a minute, me starting out of the car, not able to see anything. Emily’s words from yesterday about the shadows were creeping back into my mind, slowly circling like a giant shark about to attack. I needed to find out more, but didn’t know where to start.
I flinched when Eddy reached over, his fingertips brushing against mine on the seat. Glancing at him, I forced a small smile, struggling to keep my hand in place and not pull it away like Eddy was a leper.
Eddy’s fingers were warm when they slipped between mine. If I’d thought about it days ago, I would have been repulsed by the idea of allowing myself to do something like this. I had to keep my distance. It was for his safety.
Now it just felt good. Felt safe. Felt, well, just felt. Like something for once wasn’t bad, or stressful, or all confusing.
The knock on my window made me flinch, and Eddy’s fingers gripped mine more tightly. Outside the glass, Adam grinned at us.
I swallowed hard, knowing I was going to hear about this later. Adam held up his keys and jerked his thumb at the shop.
“Looks like work’s started,” Eddy muttered, clearly not relishing the interruption.
I hurried into the front office, busying myself with messages on the machine, updating our schedule, and placing some orders left over from last week.
And, just for fun, another little outtake, which explains why I often refer to this novel as X-Files meets Buffy:
“You know what they’ve always kind of reminded me of?” I asked. The guys shook their heads. “Ever watch the X-Files? You know the creepy alien virus slime things that attack people?”
Manuel chuckled, nodding. Adam gave me a one-eyebrow look like I’d lost my mind.
“They always made me think of a bigger version of those things. Gross, and almost like they’d be slimy, but still like a big shadow,” I continued.
“That does seem kind of right, I mean, at least how they look,” Adam conceded. “Thanks for ruining that show for me.”
“You’re totally welcome, Mulder,” I smirked.
Enter for a chance to win EVERNIGHT TEEN’s GRAND PRIZE of an iPad Mini and my blog prize by answering this question (be sure to include your email address to be eligible to win):
If you're a writer, have you ever had to cut a character? As a reader, what do you think when you hear about characters that get cut out?
The birthday blog hop continues here:
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January 7, 2015
25 ROSES by Stephanie Faris Blog Tour
I love featuring fun authors here, and Stephanie is definitely great! Check out her latest release:
25 Roses
Stephanie Faris
Mia moves from the shadows to the spotlight when her matchmaking plans go awry in this contemporary M!X novel from the author of 30 Days of No Gossip.
Mia is used to feeling overlooked: her perfect older sister gets all the attention at home, and the popular clique at school are basically experts at ignoring her. So when it’s time for the annual Student Council chocolate rose sale, Mia is prepared to feel even worse. Because even though anyone can buy and send roses to their crushes and friends, the same (popular) people always end up with roses while everyone else gets left out.
Except a twist of fate puts Mia in charge of selling the roses this year—and that means things are going to change. With a little creativity, Mia makes sure the kids who usually leave empty-handed suddenly find themselves the object of someone’s affection. But her scheme starts to unravel when she realizes that being a secret matchmaker isn’t easy—and neither is being in the spotlight.
Stephanie Faris:
Stephanie Faris knew she wanted to be an author from a very young age. In fact, her mother often told her to stop reading so much and go outside and play with the other kids. After graduating from Middle Tennessee State University with a Bachelor of Science in broadcast journalism, she somehow found herself working in information technology. But she never stopped writing.
Stephanie is the author of 30 Days of No Gossip and 25 Roses, both with Aladdin M!x. When she isn’t crafting fiction, she writes for a variety of online websites on the topics of business, technology, and her favorite subject of all—fashion. She lives in Nashville with her husband, a sales executive.
Links:
Buy (Autographed); Buy (Amazon); Website; Blog; Facebook; Twitter; Instagram
25 Roses Excerpt
CHAPTER ONE
To: Stanton Middle SchoolFrom: Mia HartleyThis place could use a real-life Cupid.
I don’t ask for much. A ride to school without listening to my big sister Kellie gabbing on the phone with her BFF Margeaux. Maybe a few minutes where Mom actually listens to me instead of Kellie. Oh, and extra room in the back seat to set a box full of notecards to attach to chocolate roses so I don’t have to hold it in my lap all the way to school.Unfortunately, none of those things were happening. My sister was doing the whole, “And then I said, and then she said” thing while my mom ignored my questions about dropping me off at school first. The cards in the box on my lap had to be filled out for our Valentine’s Day sale, which was a huge deal in my school every year.Why did I have the box? Blame it on my desire to be liked. I signed up to help sell these because my BFF wanted to do it. And because if you did things like this, people knew who you were. It was nicer than being invisible, I figured. Why was the box on my lap? Good question. Because my cheerleader-slash-homecoming attendant-slash-most popular sophomore at Stanton High School sister had to have a place for her stupid science project. Which she’d probably get an A-plus-plus on because, in case it wasn’t obvious, she’s perfect—the golden child.
I, meanwhile, have never gotten a carnation, rose, or even a pile of fake doody from a boy. Today my best friend Ashleigh and I sell chocolate roses before school, then tomorrow—Valentine’s Day—we hand those roses out in first period. That was when things would really get boring.
a Rafflecopter giveaway
25 Roses
Stephanie Faris
Mia moves from the shadows to the spotlight when her matchmaking plans go awry in this contemporary M!X novel from the author of 30 Days of No Gossip.
Mia is used to feeling overlooked: her perfect older sister gets all the attention at home, and the popular clique at school are basically experts at ignoring her. So when it’s time for the annual Student Council chocolate rose sale, Mia is prepared to feel even worse. Because even though anyone can buy and send roses to their crushes and friends, the same (popular) people always end up with roses while everyone else gets left out.
Except a twist of fate puts Mia in charge of selling the roses this year—and that means things are going to change. With a little creativity, Mia makes sure the kids who usually leave empty-handed suddenly find themselves the object of someone’s affection. But her scheme starts to unravel when she realizes that being a secret matchmaker isn’t easy—and neither is being in the spotlight.
Stephanie Faris:
Stephanie Faris knew she wanted to be an author from a very young age. In fact, her mother often told her to stop reading so much and go outside and play with the other kids. After graduating from Middle Tennessee State University with a Bachelor of Science in broadcast journalism, she somehow found herself working in information technology. But she never stopped writing.
Stephanie is the author of 30 Days of No Gossip and 25 Roses, both with Aladdin M!x. When she isn’t crafting fiction, she writes for a variety of online websites on the topics of business, technology, and her favorite subject of all—fashion. She lives in Nashville with her husband, a sales executive.
Links:
Buy (Autographed); Buy (Amazon); Website; Blog; Facebook; Twitter; Instagram
25 Roses Excerpt
CHAPTER ONE
To: Stanton Middle SchoolFrom: Mia HartleyThis place could use a real-life Cupid.
I don’t ask for much. A ride to school without listening to my big sister Kellie gabbing on the phone with her BFF Margeaux. Maybe a few minutes where Mom actually listens to me instead of Kellie. Oh, and extra room in the back seat to set a box full of notecards to attach to chocolate roses so I don’t have to hold it in my lap all the way to school.Unfortunately, none of those things were happening. My sister was doing the whole, “And then I said, and then she said” thing while my mom ignored my questions about dropping me off at school first. The cards in the box on my lap had to be filled out for our Valentine’s Day sale, which was a huge deal in my school every year.Why did I have the box? Blame it on my desire to be liked. I signed up to help sell these because my BFF wanted to do it. And because if you did things like this, people knew who you were. It was nicer than being invisible, I figured. Why was the box on my lap? Good question. Because my cheerleader-slash-homecoming attendant-slash-most popular sophomore at Stanton High School sister had to have a place for her stupid science project. Which she’d probably get an A-plus-plus on because, in case it wasn’t obvious, she’s perfect—the golden child.
I, meanwhile, have never gotten a carnation, rose, or even a pile of fake doody from a boy. Today my best friend Ashleigh and I sell chocolate roses before school, then tomorrow—Valentine’s Day—we hand those roses out in first period. That was when things would really get boring.
a Rafflecopter giveaway
January 5, 2015
Terrible Titles Blog Hop & Cover Reveal for 50 LIKES by Medeia Sharif
How is everyone doing? Starting off 2015 well? Things here are great! In case you missed it, yesterday my first flash fiction on Lightening Quick Reads went live, with our monthly topic of "goals." It was a lot of fun to write, and I'd love to hear what you think was going on at the end :)
And Colors Like Memories is still free (yep, gotta get that in there somehow...). I hit the 400's in the overall store the other day, and #1 in one of my categories, so that's pretty sweet :)
For today, I'm taking the awesome Leandra Wallace up on her tag in the Terrible Titles blog hop. Her titles made me laugh out loud, so be sure to check those out. Plus, Leandra's a sweetheart with a great blog--well worth the click!
The rules are to pull up your manuscript and randomly stop while scrolling through. Whatever words/phrases your cursor has landed on will become your eight terrible titles. Here are mine from my (terribly titled) Coincidences, the NA paranormal thriller I'm querying. Considering I kind of hate the title it current has, but haven't been able to come up with anything better, this could be interesting ;)
Added Aass Bite to My WordsSmall Whirlpool Damn Observant Changing the Wording Nothing Better Than New Undies Smelled Like a Trap Fake Plague So these are pretty dang random :) Also, I'm horrible about tagging people, so does anyone want to play along?
What's the worst title you've ever heard?
52 LIKES by Medeia Sharif
Cover Reveal, Evernight Teen, 2015
Releases January 16th!!
After a brutal rape and near-murder, Valerie wants to get past feelings of victimhood from both the assault and her history of being bullied. She’s plagued by not knowing the identity of her rapist and by the nasty rumors in school about that night. Valerie follows clues from ghostly entities, past victims of the rapist-murderer, contacting her through a social media site—why do all of their eerie photos have 52 likes under them? Their messages are leading her to the mystery man, although he’ll put up a fight to remain hidden.
Find Medeia – YA and MG Author
Blog | Twitter | Goodreads | Instagram | Amazon
And Colors Like Memories is still free (yep, gotta get that in there somehow...). I hit the 400's in the overall store the other day, and #1 in one of my categories, so that's pretty sweet :)
For today, I'm taking the awesome Leandra Wallace up on her tag in the Terrible Titles blog hop. Her titles made me laugh out loud, so be sure to check those out. Plus, Leandra's a sweetheart with a great blog--well worth the click!The rules are to pull up your manuscript and randomly stop while scrolling through. Whatever words/phrases your cursor has landed on will become your eight terrible titles. Here are mine from my (terribly titled) Coincidences, the NA paranormal thriller I'm querying. Considering I kind of hate the title it current has, but haven't been able to come up with anything better, this could be interesting ;)
Added Aass Bite to My WordsSmall Whirlpool Damn Observant Changing the Wording Nothing Better Than New Undies Smelled Like a Trap Fake Plague So these are pretty dang random :) Also, I'm horrible about tagging people, so does anyone want to play along?
What's the worst title you've ever heard?
52 LIKES by Medeia Sharif
Cover Reveal, Evernight Teen, 2015
Releases January 16th!!
After a brutal rape and near-murder, Valerie wants to get past feelings of victimhood from both the assault and her history of being bullied. She’s plagued by not knowing the identity of her rapist and by the nasty rumors in school about that night. Valerie follows clues from ghostly entities, past victims of the rapist-murderer, contacting her through a social media site—why do all of their eerie photos have 52 likes under them? Their messages are leading her to the mystery man, although he’ll put up a fight to remain hidden.
Find Medeia – YA and MG Author
Blog | Twitter | Goodreads | Instagram | Amazon
January 2, 2015
Guest Post by Marie Laval, author of A SPELL IN PROVENCE
I have a wonderful guest post today to share, with the lovely Marie Laval! Be sure to say hello!
Hello Meradeth and thank you very much for welcoming me on your blog today. I am delighted to have the opportunity to talk about my new novel, A SPELL IN PROVENCE, which is shortly to be released by Áccent Press.
A SPELL IN PROVENCE is a contemporary romantic suspense, a new genre for me since I usually write historical romances.
I first got the idea for the plot during a family holiday in the South of France. It is obvious when you travel through Provence that fountains were very important for locals. 'Water is gold' says an old Provençal saying, and true enough, there are fountains everywhere - some were very grand like in Aix-en-Provence, others a plain stone trough with only an old tap spurting fresh water.
One fountain in particular captured my imagination. It was in the lovely small town of Cassis near Marseille, where we had stopped for an impromptu picnic. As soon as I saw it and read its inscription in Latin, I knew I had the basis of a plot.
Provence is a wonderful setting for a novel. There are so many hill-top villages and old farmhouses, lavender and sunflower fields, and ancient Roman ruins...
BlurbWith few roots in England and having just lost her job, Amy Carter decides to give up on home and start a new life in France, spending her redundancy package turning an overgrown Provençal farmhouse, Bellefontaine, into a successful hotel. Though she has big plans for her new home, none of them involves falling in love – least of all with Fabien Coste, the handsome but arrogant owner of a nearby château. As romance blossoms, eerie and strange happenings in Bellefontaine hint at a dark mystery of the Provençal countryside which dates back many centuries and holds an entanglement between the ladies of Bellefontaine and the ducs de Coste at its centre. As Amy works to unravel the mystery, she begins to wonder if it may not just be her heart at risk, but her life too.
Buy Links:
http://www.accentpress.co.uk/Book/13421/A-Spell-in-Provence.html
A SPELL IN PROVENCE will be available from Amazon in early January, 2015!
Originally from Lyon in France, Marie studied History and Law at university there before moving to Lancashire in England where she worked in a variety of jobs, from PA in a busy university department to teacher of French in schools and colleges. Writing, however, was always her passion, and she spends what little free time she has dreaming and making up stories. Her historical romances ANGEL HEART and THE LION'S EMBRACE are published by MuseItUp Publishing. A SPELL IN PROVENCE is her first contemporary romance. It is published by Áccent Press.
Snippet
He looked down. The light of the rising sun played on his face and made his green eyes seem deep and warm. Time slowed down. The noise from the crowd became muffled and distant, and all she could hear was the crystalline spring water trickling in the old fountain. The spring that ran through the forest between Manoir Coste and Bellefontaine and bound hearts and lives together, or so the spell said … Her heartbeat slowed, or maybe it stopped altogether. It was as if Fabien and she were alone. Desire, fear and another feeling she didn’t recognise overwhelmed her and made her dizzy.
Hello Meradeth and thank you very much for welcoming me on your blog today. I am delighted to have the opportunity to talk about my new novel, A SPELL IN PROVENCE, which is shortly to be released by Áccent Press.
A SPELL IN PROVENCE is a contemporary romantic suspense, a new genre for me since I usually write historical romances.I first got the idea for the plot during a family holiday in the South of France. It is obvious when you travel through Provence that fountains were very important for locals. 'Water is gold' says an old Provençal saying, and true enough, there are fountains everywhere - some were very grand like in Aix-en-Provence, others a plain stone trough with only an old tap spurting fresh water.
One fountain in particular captured my imagination. It was in the lovely small town of Cassis near Marseille, where we had stopped for an impromptu picnic. As soon as I saw it and read its inscription in Latin, I knew I had the basis of a plot. Provence is a wonderful setting for a novel. There are so many hill-top villages and old farmhouses, lavender and sunflower fields, and ancient Roman ruins...
BlurbWith few roots in England and having just lost her job, Amy Carter decides to give up on home and start a new life in France, spending her redundancy package turning an overgrown Provençal farmhouse, Bellefontaine, into a successful hotel. Though she has big plans for her new home, none of them involves falling in love – least of all with Fabien Coste, the handsome but arrogant owner of a nearby château. As romance blossoms, eerie and strange happenings in Bellefontaine hint at a dark mystery of the Provençal countryside which dates back many centuries and holds an entanglement between the ladies of Bellefontaine and the ducs de Coste at its centre. As Amy works to unravel the mystery, she begins to wonder if it may not just be her heart at risk, but her life too. Buy Links:
.jpg)
http://www.accentpress.co.uk/Book/13421/A-Spell-in-Provence.html
A SPELL IN PROVENCE will be available from Amazon in early January, 2015!Originally from Lyon in France, Marie studied History and Law at university there before moving to Lancashire in England where she worked in a variety of jobs, from PA in a busy university department to teacher of French in schools and colleges. Writing, however, was always her passion, and she spends what little free time she has dreaming and making up stories. Her historical romances ANGEL HEART and THE LION'S EMBRACE are published by MuseItUp Publishing. A SPELL IN PROVENCE is her first contemporary romance. It is published by Áccent Press.
Snippet
He looked down. The light of the rising sun played on his face and made his green eyes seem deep and warm. Time slowed down. The noise from the crowd became muffled and distant, and all she could hear was the crystalline spring water trickling in the old fountain. The spring that ran through the forest between Manoir Coste and Bellefontaine and bound hearts and lives together, or so the spell said … Her heartbeat slowed, or maybe it stopped altogether. It was as if Fabien and she were alone. Desire, fear and another feeling she didn’t recognise overwhelmed her and made her dizzy.
December 31, 2014
Happy New Year's Eve (and a little short story!)
I hope everyone's doing well on this last day of 2014! I have to say that this has been one loooong
year and while there's been some fantastic things, there has been a whole lot of stress, and I'm looking forward to 2015 a whole lot :) I hope you all have a great time, get in a little celebrating, and maybe a kiss at midnight!
Oh, and Colors Like Memories is still free. (Yeah, I can't help the shameless plug...)
So, my writing group had a little fun with writing prompts this month, and I finally had a moment to write something up. I thought I'd post it here, just for fun. It's a little longer than I'd planned, but oh well. Also, I set out to write something kind of funny and upbeat, and well, that obviously didn't happen. Oops? ;)
· Write a story about a main character who is being blackmailed to try and ruin someone’s holiday. Why does this happen? Who is blackmailing him or her? Can he or she actually go through with the plan?
The first note arrived, words cut out in bright magazine fonts and pasted together, and she
laughed it off. Surely someone with a sense of humor thought it was funny. A holiday prank, cliché to the extreme.
But the question was, who? She gave it a few minutes thought in the shower, in between making her grocery list and planning how to introduce herself to her new boss. Later in the car, she had to repeat a whole chapter of her audiobook. The threat, included in the letter in the miss-matched wording in bright purple and green, spelled out what would happen if she missed the first step: send a blank email to an email address. It seemed harmless enough. But while sitting at her desk, lining her pens up from tallest to shortest, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. It was just a prank. Surely. Her curiosity was a living thing with the niggle of wonder at who went to that much effort to get her to do something so simple. And the cost? That was even more ridiculous. Nothing would happen to her car. The garage she’d parked in for ten years was secure. She knew Gus, the man hired to patrol. He’d never let anything happen. But her self assurances didn’t get her car to start that evening. The garage felt like it had been constructed from ice, like the photos she’d seen of those places in Norway. Or was it Sweden? Not that it mattered. Her feet froze as she waited for the AAA guy to show up and give her a jump. It took an hour. She took her frustration out on the treadmill. Once home, she made a list. Everyone who might have ever been pissed off at her over the years. It wasn’t long. She worked mostly alone. Her clients never had any idea she’d put in the hours behind the reports they saw. Tapping her nails on her kitchen counter, she stared down at the names. The one at the top was the only one she kept circling back to. That wouldn’t leave her alone. But surely her sister had better things to do than put something together like this. She had that studio, now, didn’t she? And a child. There couldn’t be hours in her day to cut out all those words. To ruin her car battery. Right? A little Internet snooping left her certain her sister was hearty and whole. She had a billion Facebook posts to prove it. A niece she’d never met to tend to. And art shows in San Francisco, London, and New York. How long she spent staring at her sister’s smiling face, at her niece cuddled in her arms, she didn’t know. It was long enough that she missed her normal bedtime. But before she went to rest she opened her private email, carefully copied in the email address from the note, and sent it. Blank. Just like the letter said. She didn’t need any more trouble. With the New Year approaching, things were too busy. Three reports due in less than a week. Any chance of a free moment in the near future wasn’t conceivable. Which was just how she liked it. The next morning, her phone dinged with an email, waking her a full minute before her alarm. She reached out from under the thick pile of blankets, her hand slapping blindly along the nightstand until she found the device, pulling it into her cave to read. There was a response from the blank email. She held the phone motionless, finger hovering over the message, until the alarm started and she screamed, tossing it away from her. Sighing at her own stupidity, she picked it back up, and opened the message. The email’s lettering was at least uniform and easy to read. But it took three read-throughs for the full meaning to come clear. Swearing, she pushed back the blankets to sit up. This had to be a mistake. Something stupid. Someone stupid. Not a harmless prank. Those few words made that clear. Her hands shook as she dialed into work. It didn’t take much effort to sound ill. Stomach heaving, head pounding, palms sweating—if she didn’t know better, she’d think the flu had found her. Call the cops? Send another email? Call her parents? A million thoughts wound through her mind, creating a net that caught her firmly in its grasp. There was nowhere to turn. It took three laps of her ground floor, a shower, and carefully chosen clothes, for her to pick up her phone again. This time it was to dial a number she hadn’t called in at least ten years. Not since The Fight. It was labeled in all caps in her mental filing cabinet. Three rings and she almost hung up. She didn’t want to speak with her sister. Didn’t want anything to do with her life. The woman was trouble. Always had been. But she didn’t want any harm to come to her either. The voice that answered was far too young to belong to anyone she knew. Her niece? “Is your mother available?” She wasn’t able to put up any pleasantries with the girl. “Let me get her!” So cheerful. She gulped. The phone clattered onto some flat surface and footsteps receded. She stared out her kitchen window to the house across the narrow divide. The owners had painted it a noxious shade of blue two years ago. Someone really ought to see if the HOA allowed that kind of thing. Static filled her ear and she jerked away from her phone. Almost hung up. Then a series of clicks and a voice came through. Deep. Male. Definitely not her sister. Had she found someone? The father of her child, perhaps? “Don’t hang up. Listen to my instructions carefully. They will not be repeated.”Her stomach heaved. “O-okay.” The instructions were simple. The amount. The drop. The assurance that all would be forgotten once they received it.She swore no cops would be brought it, crossing her fingers behind her back.Notes filled a page of her neat stationary she only ever used for grocery lists. Her handwriting was almost illegible, she noted with a half-hysterical laugh once the man hung up.She glanced at the calendar. New Year’s Eve. She’d be lucky if her bank was open. It took a few minutes, and copious amounts of water splashed on her face, before she brought up her broker’s number. He made enough off her account every year that even if he wasn’t at work, she’d call him at home. She wouldn’t even feel bad about it—not today. Not with this situation. Or at least that’s what she told herself.A brief conversation, with clipped and careful directions, and she hung up. There were still a few hours before the half-day at the bank closed. She would make it, no problem. Dressed in far more casual clothes than normal—a skirt and heels did not allow for her plans—and she settled into her leather seats. Driving was a blur, something she realized with a chagrined shake of her head. Today was not the day to dwell on poor driving. The bank was empty with the exception of the teller who flipped through a magazine behind the counter. She strode through the elegant entry and toward the tall doors that led to the offices at the back. Her broker waited for her there. He held out a hand, his Rolex winking on his wrist. How much of that watch had her money purchased?Despite everything, she’d chosen him for his eyes. The honest way he looked at her. The openness he used in addressing her and her plans. He never condescended. Never for a moment didn’t realize she knew what she was doing. The door closed to his office with a click. “What’s wrong?” he asked in a low voice, touching her shoulder to gain her attention.She’d been focused on the new painting on the wall. It was bright—reds and yellows and a brilliant shock of orange. She liked it. Shying away from his touch—giving him a little frown at the forwardness of his action. “Nothing. Do you have the requested funds?”With a sigh that she only noticed because he did it when she insisted on a course of action he didn’t agree with, he slipped behind his desk. The glass top was just as organized as hers, another point in his favor. “If you’re in trouble, you can tell me. I’ll do what I can to help.” Again with the honest eyes.She wondered, not for the first time, if he’d mastered that look, using it against men and women like a secret weapon. “Nothing is the matter. Something’s come up.” She settled into the wingback and crossed her ankles.His motions to pull the box from his cabinet were jerky. Barely controlled. She noticed this and tried to think it was because he didn’t agree with what she was doing. Not that he had a choice. It was her money. She could do as she pleased.“You know I’d help with anything you asked, don’t you?”It was the emotion in his tone that drew her eyes away from the painting this time. The way he emphasized the ‘you’. It caught at some part of her that she hardly recognized.Looking up to meet his stare, blue and clear, she reminded herself that this was just another way he made his clients trust him with their money. It worked. And she wouldn’t fall for it.“Thank you.” She opened the box, did a quick count, then signed the paperwork he shoved across the glass.Without a word she settled the box, surprisingly heavier than she expected, into the bag she’d brought. She rose and went to the door without another word.His hand on her shoulder—two touches in ten minutes? What had gotten into him?—and she paused.“Tonight….”The rest of his words were lost in the swirl of her thoughts. How could he ask her something like this? Now, of all times? Didn’t he see enough of her with her monthly money meetings?With a polite smile and excuse, she bowed out of the office. In her car, she made a quick reminder on her phone to find another broker. The idea didn’t sit well with her, but she didn’t know why. It didn’t matter, either.The drop wasn’t hard. It took her two hours to drive to the city where her sister lived. The roads were clear and she even found herself enjoying the snow on the hills, the crisp sunshine, the lack of buildings surrounding her. How many years had it been since she escaped the city? Three at least. Maybe more.Her GPS gave her specific instructions to get to her location. She half-wondered if the woman in the system wondered what the hell she was doing, driving here.She circled the block twice, ensuring everything was in place. Then she pulled into an abandoned driveway between two defunct factory buildings with windows like broken teeth. She settled the leather backpack into the ancient coal chute. It had been cleaned recently, with none of the paint or grime that coated the rest of the building. The bag slid inside with a satisfying thump and she turned and hurried back to her car. There, she squealed the tires in her hurry to escape.She didn’t go far.A half an hour later, she waited in the building across the street. The owners were gone for the day. Breaking in hadn’t been difficult, despite the bars on the windows and the alarm system.The curtains there provided the perfect cover and vantage point. She’d been followed all day, to her bank, to the drop site. But then the blackmailers got sloppy. They assumed she’d hurry home to cower.Of course they did.That was exactly what she spent years making them assume. Everyone assume. The tall, broad-shouldered man in the dark coat who emerged with her backpack tucked under his arm did peek around the door, scanning up and down the empty street before he stepped outside. A younger man, too skinny in jeans that looked like they’d been painted on, followed him. Neither of them knew what hit them.The cops would later assume it was a robbery gone wrong. There was no money. Just two bodies. A single bullet. One was known as a loan shark, threatening everyone who borrowed money and couldn’t pay it back with his exorbitant interest. No one would miss them.As she settled into bed that night, the empty box stowed in her garage after a surreptitious trip to her sister’s place, she glanced at her phone. The to-do list reminded her of the things she’d forgotten today. The long hours ahead of her to get caught back up at work.
But the last item, the one added after her trip to the bank, that one she erased. For a minute, she thought about adding something new, something that might allow her to remove the caps on The Fight’s listing in her mind. Instead, she clicked off her phone and set it next to her bed. They would have a much happier New Year without her in their lives.
year and while there's been some fantastic things, there has been a whole lot of stress, and I'm looking forward to 2015 a whole lot :) I hope you all have a great time, get in a little celebrating, and maybe a kiss at midnight!Oh, and Colors Like Memories is still free. (Yeah, I can't help the shameless plug...)
So, my writing group had a little fun with writing prompts this month, and I finally had a moment to write something up. I thought I'd post it here, just for fun. It's a little longer than I'd planned, but oh well. Also, I set out to write something kind of funny and upbeat, and well, that obviously didn't happen. Oops? ;)
· Write a story about a main character who is being blackmailed to try and ruin someone’s holiday. Why does this happen? Who is blackmailing him or her? Can he or she actually go through with the plan?
The first note arrived, words cut out in bright magazine fonts and pasted together, and she
laughed it off. Surely someone with a sense of humor thought it was funny. A holiday prank, cliché to the extreme.But the question was, who? She gave it a few minutes thought in the shower, in between making her grocery list and planning how to introduce herself to her new boss. Later in the car, she had to repeat a whole chapter of her audiobook. The threat, included in the letter in the miss-matched wording in bright purple and green, spelled out what would happen if she missed the first step: send a blank email to an email address. It seemed harmless enough. But while sitting at her desk, lining her pens up from tallest to shortest, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. It was just a prank. Surely. Her curiosity was a living thing with the niggle of wonder at who went to that much effort to get her to do something so simple. And the cost? That was even more ridiculous. Nothing would happen to her car. The garage she’d parked in for ten years was secure. She knew Gus, the man hired to patrol. He’d never let anything happen. But her self assurances didn’t get her car to start that evening. The garage felt like it had been constructed from ice, like the photos she’d seen of those places in Norway. Or was it Sweden? Not that it mattered. Her feet froze as she waited for the AAA guy to show up and give her a jump. It took an hour. She took her frustration out on the treadmill. Once home, she made a list. Everyone who might have ever been pissed off at her over the years. It wasn’t long. She worked mostly alone. Her clients never had any idea she’d put in the hours behind the reports they saw. Tapping her nails on her kitchen counter, she stared down at the names. The one at the top was the only one she kept circling back to. That wouldn’t leave her alone. But surely her sister had better things to do than put something together like this. She had that studio, now, didn’t she? And a child. There couldn’t be hours in her day to cut out all those words. To ruin her car battery. Right? A little Internet snooping left her certain her sister was hearty and whole. She had a billion Facebook posts to prove it. A niece she’d never met to tend to. And art shows in San Francisco, London, and New York. How long she spent staring at her sister’s smiling face, at her niece cuddled in her arms, she didn’t know. It was long enough that she missed her normal bedtime. But before she went to rest she opened her private email, carefully copied in the email address from the note, and sent it. Blank. Just like the letter said. She didn’t need any more trouble. With the New Year approaching, things were too busy. Three reports due in less than a week. Any chance of a free moment in the near future wasn’t conceivable. Which was just how she liked it. The next morning, her phone dinged with an email, waking her a full minute before her alarm. She reached out from under the thick pile of blankets, her hand slapping blindly along the nightstand until she found the device, pulling it into her cave to read. There was a response from the blank email. She held the phone motionless, finger hovering over the message, until the alarm started and she screamed, tossing it away from her. Sighing at her own stupidity, she picked it back up, and opened the message. The email’s lettering was at least uniform and easy to read. But it took three read-throughs for the full meaning to come clear. Swearing, she pushed back the blankets to sit up. This had to be a mistake. Something stupid. Someone stupid. Not a harmless prank. Those few words made that clear. Her hands shook as she dialed into work. It didn’t take much effort to sound ill. Stomach heaving, head pounding, palms sweating—if she didn’t know better, she’d think the flu had found her. Call the cops? Send another email? Call her parents? A million thoughts wound through her mind, creating a net that caught her firmly in its grasp. There was nowhere to turn. It took three laps of her ground floor, a shower, and carefully chosen clothes, for her to pick up her phone again. This time it was to dial a number she hadn’t called in at least ten years. Not since The Fight. It was labeled in all caps in her mental filing cabinet. Three rings and she almost hung up. She didn’t want to speak with her sister. Didn’t want anything to do with her life. The woman was trouble. Always had been. But she didn’t want any harm to come to her either. The voice that answered was far too young to belong to anyone she knew. Her niece? “Is your mother available?” She wasn’t able to put up any pleasantries with the girl. “Let me get her!” So cheerful. She gulped. The phone clattered onto some flat surface and footsteps receded. She stared out her kitchen window to the house across the narrow divide. The owners had painted it a noxious shade of blue two years ago. Someone really ought to see if the HOA allowed that kind of thing. Static filled her ear and she jerked away from her phone. Almost hung up. Then a series of clicks and a voice came through. Deep. Male. Definitely not her sister. Had she found someone? The father of her child, perhaps? “Don’t hang up. Listen to my instructions carefully. They will not be repeated.”Her stomach heaved. “O-okay.” The instructions were simple. The amount. The drop. The assurance that all would be forgotten once they received it.She swore no cops would be brought it, crossing her fingers behind her back.Notes filled a page of her neat stationary she only ever used for grocery lists. Her handwriting was almost illegible, she noted with a half-hysterical laugh once the man hung up.She glanced at the calendar. New Year’s Eve. She’d be lucky if her bank was open. It took a few minutes, and copious amounts of water splashed on her face, before she brought up her broker’s number. He made enough off her account every year that even if he wasn’t at work, she’d call him at home. She wouldn’t even feel bad about it—not today. Not with this situation. Or at least that’s what she told herself.A brief conversation, with clipped and careful directions, and she hung up. There were still a few hours before the half-day at the bank closed. She would make it, no problem. Dressed in far more casual clothes than normal—a skirt and heels did not allow for her plans—and she settled into her leather seats. Driving was a blur, something she realized with a chagrined shake of her head. Today was not the day to dwell on poor driving. The bank was empty with the exception of the teller who flipped through a magazine behind the counter. She strode through the elegant entry and toward the tall doors that led to the offices at the back. Her broker waited for her there. He held out a hand, his Rolex winking on his wrist. How much of that watch had her money purchased?Despite everything, she’d chosen him for his eyes. The honest way he looked at her. The openness he used in addressing her and her plans. He never condescended. Never for a moment didn’t realize she knew what she was doing. The door closed to his office with a click. “What’s wrong?” he asked in a low voice, touching her shoulder to gain her attention.She’d been focused on the new painting on the wall. It was bright—reds and yellows and a brilliant shock of orange. She liked it. Shying away from his touch—giving him a little frown at the forwardness of his action. “Nothing. Do you have the requested funds?”With a sigh that she only noticed because he did it when she insisted on a course of action he didn’t agree with, he slipped behind his desk. The glass top was just as organized as hers, another point in his favor. “If you’re in trouble, you can tell me. I’ll do what I can to help.” Again with the honest eyes.She wondered, not for the first time, if he’d mastered that look, using it against men and women like a secret weapon. “Nothing is the matter. Something’s come up.” She settled into the wingback and crossed her ankles.His motions to pull the box from his cabinet were jerky. Barely controlled. She noticed this and tried to think it was because he didn’t agree with what she was doing. Not that he had a choice. It was her money. She could do as she pleased.“You know I’d help with anything you asked, don’t you?”It was the emotion in his tone that drew her eyes away from the painting this time. The way he emphasized the ‘you’. It caught at some part of her that she hardly recognized.Looking up to meet his stare, blue and clear, she reminded herself that this was just another way he made his clients trust him with their money. It worked. And she wouldn’t fall for it.“Thank you.” She opened the box, did a quick count, then signed the paperwork he shoved across the glass.Without a word she settled the box, surprisingly heavier than she expected, into the bag she’d brought. She rose and went to the door without another word.His hand on her shoulder—two touches in ten minutes? What had gotten into him?—and she paused.“Tonight….”The rest of his words were lost in the swirl of her thoughts. How could he ask her something like this? Now, of all times? Didn’t he see enough of her with her monthly money meetings?With a polite smile and excuse, she bowed out of the office. In her car, she made a quick reminder on her phone to find another broker. The idea didn’t sit well with her, but she didn’t know why. It didn’t matter, either.The drop wasn’t hard. It took her two hours to drive to the city where her sister lived. The roads were clear and she even found herself enjoying the snow on the hills, the crisp sunshine, the lack of buildings surrounding her. How many years had it been since she escaped the city? Three at least. Maybe more.Her GPS gave her specific instructions to get to her location. She half-wondered if the woman in the system wondered what the hell she was doing, driving here.She circled the block twice, ensuring everything was in place. Then she pulled into an abandoned driveway between two defunct factory buildings with windows like broken teeth. She settled the leather backpack into the ancient coal chute. It had been cleaned recently, with none of the paint or grime that coated the rest of the building. The bag slid inside with a satisfying thump and she turned and hurried back to her car. There, she squealed the tires in her hurry to escape.She didn’t go far.A half an hour later, she waited in the building across the street. The owners were gone for the day. Breaking in hadn’t been difficult, despite the bars on the windows and the alarm system.The curtains there provided the perfect cover and vantage point. She’d been followed all day, to her bank, to the drop site. But then the blackmailers got sloppy. They assumed she’d hurry home to cower.Of course they did.That was exactly what she spent years making them assume. Everyone assume. The tall, broad-shouldered man in the dark coat who emerged with her backpack tucked under his arm did peek around the door, scanning up and down the empty street before he stepped outside. A younger man, too skinny in jeans that looked like they’d been painted on, followed him. Neither of them knew what hit them.The cops would later assume it was a robbery gone wrong. There was no money. Just two bodies. A single bullet. One was known as a loan shark, threatening everyone who borrowed money and couldn’t pay it back with his exorbitant interest. No one would miss them.As she settled into bed that night, the empty box stowed in her garage after a surreptitious trip to her sister’s place, she glanced at her phone. The to-do list reminded her of the things she’d forgotten today. The long hours ahead of her to get caught back up at work.
But the last item, the one added after her trip to the bank, that one she erased. For a minute, she thought about adding something new, something that might allow her to remove the caps on The Fight’s listing in her mind. Instead, she clicked off her phone and set it next to her bed. They would have a much happier New Year without her in their lives.
