Jen Naumann's Blog, page 2

A Reflection of Thanks

I'll forever think of November as days filled with an insane amount of writing, thanks to NaNoWriMo. Like thousands of other writers, I've been hunkering down all month long, stealing time that wasn't really there just to fit in 50,000 words on my new work in progress. Yesterday I finally hit that golden mark, in effect "winning" the personal challenge I had set for myself. Sadly enough, there wasn't any confetti, or any monetary reward per say (I did purchase a new coat in celebration, and had my own personal "Elf" moment), but there was a grand feeling of satisfaction that comes with the creation of a story and achieving a challenging goal.
The most gratifying thing I can walk away with from this experience is that I reached 60,000 on my newest book  Paranormal Keepers , and can see the first draft being finished up by the end of December. The bad news is that it seems I've unleashed my inner writing demon and don't know how to put it back in its cage. I've caught myself structuring sentences before I say them out loud in regular conversation. If I don't get at least 1,000 words in a day, I become irritated with everyone and everything. Last night I had three consecutive dreams that were separate stories I was writing as they progressed (one very bazaar one even involving John Green). Sometimes writing is more like a relentless addiction than a job.
Still, I'm glad this was a successful month, and I'm thankful that my creativity continues to flow plentiful. If it didn't, I know I would lose my mind with all of these ideas trying to claw their way out. I'm also extremely thankful for all of you who have supported me by taking the time to read my books, write reviews on Goodreads and Amazon, tweet and blog and Facebook how much you enjoyed them, and continue to buy each of my new releases! You'll never know just how much I appreciate all you do! I wish I could give each and every one of you a tackling hug.
To all my US peeps, I wish you a very happy and safe Thanksgiving with your family and friends. Knock yourself out with turkey, football and good times.

Get Addicted Tour & Guest Post by Becca & Krista Ritchie

You may remember how I recently gushed over the steamy Addicted to You new adult series by twin sisters Becca and Krista Richtie. Now I'm crazy excited to participate in their Get Addicted Tour, and bring you all sorts of goodies from the fabulous duo! Check out the five secrets about the Addicted series, then enter the giveaway at the bottom to win an Amazon gift card, and two books from the Addicted to You series!

Title: Addicted for NowAuthor: Krista & Becca RitchieSeries: Addicted #2Pub Date: November 30th, 2013Amazon: Link not available until Nov. 30th. 

Add Addicted to Now to Your Goodreads Shelf!

He's addicted to booze. She's addicted to sex...staying sober is only half the battle.
No. More. Sex.

Those are the three words Lily Calloway fears the most. But Loren Hale is determined to be with Lily without enabling her dangerous compulsions. With their new living situation—sleeping in the same bed, for real, together—Lily has new battles. Like not jumping Lo’s bones every night. Not being consumed by sex and his body.

Loren plans to stay sober, to right all of his wrongs. So when someone threatens to expose Lily’s secret to her family and the public, he promises that he’ll do anything to protect her. But with old enemies surfacing, Lo has more at stake than his sobriety.

They will torment Lily until Lo breaks.

And his worst fear isn’t relapsing. He hears the end. He sees it. The one thing that could change everything. Just three words.

No. More. Us. 
5 Behind-the-Scenes Secrets about the Addicted Series
We may have mentioned some of these before on Twitter. (Truthfully, late-night writing time leads me to loopy deliriousness and I take to social media too quickly with secrets – not spoilers!) Krista may hate me in the morning (or maybe I’m just projecting). But I make it up to her with chocolate. Chocolate is the answer to everything :D 
5) The novels are more detailed (sex-wise) with each consecutive book because Lily becomes more comfortable talking about sex. And in Addicted for Now, we see Lo’s POV, and he’s never been as ashamed as Lily when describing the act. I’m not sure anyone will pick up on that, but we were always conscious of it. 
4) From the beginning of Addicted to You, Lily is 20, and by the end of the series with Addicted After All, Lily is 23, almost 24. So the series spans nearly 4 years. 
3) We never meant for Addicted for Now to be so long. We constantly consider deleting subplots and scenes, but in the end, we’re keeping everything that we intended to give. Most especially because Lily and Lo’s story will have a break while the spin-offs go on, and we wanted to give our readers as much as possible without adding any filler. 
2) Addicted to You (Addicted #1) may feel repetitious in a couple places. We’ve wanted to come out and explain this aspect for a while, so I guess that makes this a secret. But when we were editing the first book, we both knew there was a part that seemed to repeat. Krista even said, “I feel like I just read this.” And after a long, long conversation, we decided to keep it. We knew that addiction was a cycle, and we wanted to accurately depict that sense of “whoa, this is happening again?”
1) Okay, this is the hardest secret for me to write (even though in my haste, I know I shouted this one out on Twitter). If you have NOT read Ricochet (Addicted #1.5) or Addicted for Now (Addicted #2), divert your eyes. Spoilers ahead! …
 … There’s a very controversial convo that happens in Ricochet on the boat. Daisy is talking about sex (naturally, the series is a discourse about sex)—and Ryke offers her some advice. Here’s the secret: I was given the same advice at 17 by a guy I just met. Daisy was 16 in the book. This stuff happens. And while it’s awkward, I look back on the moment and think about his views on sex. He hated the idea of a guy not giving the girl any lead-up, anything in return. Getting in and getting out made him cringe. He wanted sex to be about her high, her experience. 
And Ryke, as a character, is very, very empathetic towards women. He was raised by a single mother. He’s self-assured and doesn’t care what people think of him. All he wants is to make sure that you’re okay. And if you’re okay, he’s fine. He’ll move on. But Daisy isn’t emotionally fine yet. She’s tricked everyone but him. 
So that’s the number one secret. It’s hard to justify something that I went through. And the Ryke and Daisy friendship has quickly become one of the most taboo aspects of the series. She’s a high fashion model. She has been an adult since she was 14 and sucked into that world, and I can’t wait to share her story in Hothouse Flower. Our plan isn’t to convince you to like these two. If you don’t like them now, I can’t guarantee you ever will. We’re just going to show them as they are. Raw, honest people—flaws and all. 

For more stops on the Get Addicted Tour, check out their schedule here!
AUTHOR BIOS
Becca Ritchie claims she's from Mystic Falls, but really, she lives in Atlanta where humidity is her greatest foe. She loves comic books, blue nail polish and Jonathan Taylor Thomas circa 1995. She frequents Twitter to dish about too many TV shows, and when she's not blogging, she writes novels and has teamed up with her twin sister to collaborate on a New Adult series.  
Krista Ritchie has a clone...or someone who looks exactly like her. If she's not writing books with her twin sister, she's pouring over entertainment news and ingesting copious amounts of pop culture. She likes tennis, that thing called the TV, and beating Becca (her clone) on Sega Genesis. She created  YA Book Exchange to combat her book buying addiction and started Nawanda Files, a YA Book Blog that features books into movies news, to share her love for all things bookish. Oh, and she does something called science. Whatever that is. 
AUTHOR LINKS
GoodreadsKristaBeccaTwitter KristaBeccaWebsiteFacebookTumblrPinterest
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Regrets (and a Zombie-tastic Announcement!)

Whenever I see stuff like this,
I tend to roll my eyes and maybe even gag a little. Seriously. We're all going to do things in life we wish we wouldn't have done, and will most likely regret them at some point.

So when I first saw this on We're the Millers,
I laughed. Hard. Because it's way, way more accurate.

I've personally gained enough regrets in my lifetime to fill an entire book. Honestly, it could probably make for some pretty decent comedy. But I'm here to admit to just one in particular—leaving a book's ending hanging, and not writing the sequel in my next project.

Those who have read Shymers and The Day Zombies Ruined My Perfectly Boring Life know that I've been guilty of this not just once, but TWICE. Agh, what a young, naive writer I was back in those days. I've become so much wiser in 1/5 years that I can promise you, I'll never write a cliffhanger again without having the sequel coming up right behind it. I've had this terrible pressure on my shoulders, knowing these two books need to be written. You have to understand that I'm the type who sometimes completely buckles under that kind of pressure. When things stress me out, I tend to avoid them, hiding away until the last possible moment.

However, I'm elated and relieved to say I've finally completed the sequel to The Day Zombies Ruined My Perfectly Boring Life, and can announce The Time Zombies Became the Least of My Worries will be available in digital and print on December 3rd! Finally, fans will hear the end of Emma's story, as well as a little insight from Finn. After a few different endings I ran past my beta readers and editors, I'm pretty certain everyone will be pleased with the ending I chose!

All I have to say is I'm really sorry I left everyone hanging so long, and can promise I won't ever do anything quite so cruel ever again, for all our sakes (and my sanity). The sequel to Shymers is still "in the works", but I can't say with any certainty when it will be released. Hopefully soon.

Okay, now that I've confessed one of my deepest regrets, it's your turn. What is something you regret doing? It's okay to share, because as one wise, funky painter in the 80s used to always tell us:

A visual telling of PARANORMAL KEEPERS

I've been a visual junkie my whole life. As a teen I would buy the biggest magazines available and spending hours pouring over every page, marveling at the ridiculously good looking models inside, wondering what their stories may be. I seriously don't think I ever read any of the articles. The walls in my bedroom were plastered with Benetton ads and gorgeous models to feed my constant day-dreams into the mysterious lives of others. They're what inspired my first full-length novel somewhere around sixth or seventh grade. I also got into photography later in life, taking online courses on the craft before starting up my own independent business. And my favorite part about vacations has always been the opportunity to just take in the different scenery.

So it wasn't too surprising when I became a Pinterest addict. I'll go to the site with a certain purpose in mind, and end up spending hours looking through pictures. While it really is the biggest suckage of free time, there are days when it can actually be inspiring. I first started boards of each of my novels after they were completed, but for the first time I'm creating one as the story is being written.

Paranormal Keepers is flowing like gangbusters as I charge through National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). My characters are living in such an exciting world with witches, zombies, ghosts, and just about every other paranormal creature you can think of. And creating its corresponding Pinterest board has been extra fun because I get to bring out my inner goth side with dark, sometimes twisted images. To celebrate the success of Paranormal Keepers (without going into detail on the plot as there will still be major tweaking to be done before it's released), I give you a little visual preview of the current work in progress. To my fellow visual junkies, you're welcome.










 

Want more? Check out the entire board here.

Book Review: Addicted for Now by Krista & Rebecca Ritchie

This was originally a series I decided not to tackle on this blog as it's definitely for adults, and nowhere near my usual young adult genre. So I recently posted my review of Addicted to You, the first book in the series, on another blog I contribute to (The Writer Diaries). You can check it out here. But then I realized that most of my followers are over the age of 18, so I decided it would be okay to review the third book on here with the understanding that THIS BOOK IS FOR MATURE ADULTS ONLY. And if you haven't yet read the first book in this series, you're going to want to wait to read the review of this book until after you've finished it, because there are MILD SPOILERS AHEAD . Okay, now that I've cleared that up, (*takes giant breath*) here we go.


Addicted to You (book #1) is the story of childhood friends Lo and Lily who fake a relationship together in an attempt to hide two very big secrets from their families—he's an alcoholic, and she's a sex addict (aaaaand cue mature part). At the end of that book they decide they're in love, and promise to give their addictions up for each other. I'm not going to lie, their journey is a big ugly mess that at times is extremely painful to witness (except of course when they're having hot, wild sex). There's a book #1.5 (Ricochet) in which Lo goes to rehab while Lily struggles to stay celibate, but I'm here to review the next book in the series in which Lo finally returns home.

First of all, whoa. Immediately after setting down Addicted for Now, I decided I needed a drink. Then I realized that would just be disrespectful to Lo. The first book was pretty intense as we watched the two main characters spiral downward with their addictions, but this one was just CRAZY. Hanging out with these two as they try to fight off their cravings was beyond intense. At times I felt like my stomach was being crammed down my throat.

I continued to feel for Lily as I have from the beginning. Yes, she's spoiled, and selfish, and a total introvert, but she hasn't exactly been treated fairly by her family (a fact that comes to light by the end of the story). And her love for Lo is so sweet, I've continued to cheer for their relationship through all the ugly messes they've endured. I even wanted Lo (also a spoiled brat who can be a total prick to people who are trying to help him) to come out of this with his head held high, and his addition beat. You can't help but love him when at times his sole purpose in staying sober is to make Lily happy.

It's bad enough that they're fighting their personal demons, but suddenly there's an anonymous outsider who contacts them, threatening to spill Lily's secret to her family and the press (both Lily and Lo's parents own multi-million dollar companies). So logically, they take a spring break trip to Mexico with their siblings that turns out to be the ultimate test for two people trying to fight off their dark addictions. And when Lily's fifteen-year-old sister (who kind of has a thing for Lo's way older brother) shows up, all hell begins to break loose. There are so many "oh crap" moments for Lily and Lo that I kept waiting for them to break. Or even break up.

When it was all said and done, I honestly felt like I could sympathize with Lily and Lo's support group—Rose (Lily's neurotic but strong older sister), Connor (Rose's genius level on-again-off-again boyfriend), and Ryke (the sometimes jerky brother Lo didn't know he had until the end of book #1). Not only did they all stay faithfully by Lily and Lo's sides, but they had their own crap to deal with.

There were so many sub-plots to this story, my head almost literally spun. Towards the end it got a bit long, and I could've done without the added story of Rose and her friend Sebastian, as I didn't feel like it added anything of value to Lily and Lo's journey. But otherwise, I loved the complexity of everyone's lives, and the twisted web Lily and Lo kept falling into. At times I seriously forgot I was actually reading a story, and not witnessing first hand as these two tried to hold it together.

While it seems a bit odd to give this kind of story a rating of zombies, I'm doing it anyway. Because it's my blog and I can do whatever I want. And I kind of feel exhausted after reading about Lily and Lo's journey. I give Addicted for Now five wandering zombies, because the story is hot, and gut-wrenching, and tragic, and beautiful, and one hell of a ride that I'm glad I went on.

A big thank you to (twin sisters) Krista Ritchie and Rebecca Ritchie for giving me this ARC—I'm so glad I got the chance to review such an amazing book! Keep an eye out on my blog for a special guest post by them, coming soon as part of their release party!

Krista & Becca Ritchie write New Adult books that make you cringe, gasp, and go ooh-la-la. (If you do that sort of thing.) They are currently working on the spin-offs and final books in the Addicted series. Connect with them on their website, and find the first two books of this series on Amazon. Don't forget to share the love—review their books on Goodreads!

A Heartfelt Thank You to All US Soldiers

It never fails. Whenever I see a one of our soldiers in uniform, whether in passing, at funerals to salute the fallen, on television (even if they're actors swooping in to save the day), or (especially) passing through in airports, tears always fill my eyes. Even a single picture of one can reduce me to a blubbering mess. A sense of pride deep down swells to the point it overwhelms me, and make my heart skip a beat. I'm so touched by their dedication to this country, I feel as if I will burst at the seams.

Sometimes I feel like the black sheep, having come from a family with a heavy military background. My father served in Vietnam (Army), my brother in Iraq during the Persian Gulf war (Marines), and my sister (Army) in Iraq the second time around. The list of family members goes on to include my father-in-law, my sister's husband (plus his two siblings, and even one of their spouses whom I'm also close to), and a son-in-law. Both my husband and I regret not having served, and I think it makes me even more grateful for those who were brave enough to step up and do it—to sacrifice everything to keep the rest of us safe.

My brother with Bravo Co. 1st Plt. 1st Recon Bn.
on flight deck of USS Tripoli
enroute to Pursian Gulf.When I was a senior in high school, my big brother was deployed to Iraq. Anyone who knows me will tell you I have a terrible memory in general, but I'll never forget the dread that lingered in my gut the entire time he was gone. Not a day passed when I didn't worry about him. I faithfully wore a his picture on a necklace. Each morning at school when the world-wide news updated us on the war, I felt the onset of an anxiety attack. A part of me was always waiting for that call to my parents, telling them my brother was killed. Thankfully, he made it home without any injuries.

More recently when my big sister went overseas as a doctor for the Army in 2005, I purposely tried to keep my mind elsewhere, and have blocked out most of the experience. Having to go through it another time was heartbreaking, even though she wasn't actively fighting in the field the way my brother was. But ever since I was a little girl I've looked up to my sister, and strived to be the good person she's always been. Seeing pictures of her dressed in a helmet and flak jacket, standing next to a broken bust of Saddam Hussein outside of once of his palaces where she was stationed was just too much. Still, the sense of pride I carry around for both my siblings and for all my family members who were in the service is untouchable.

After I became a wife and then a mother, I started to understand where this deep appreciation for our troops that makes me cry stems from. I know that feeling of dread parents and spouses of soldiers must carry with them every single day. I know what it's like to have to pretend everything's okay while someone you love is dodging bombs and bullets on the other side of the world. Every single person in my life who served our country is a good person, the kind you would trust in every day life to have your back. And to give up everything in your life to defend millions of strangers you've never even met quite honestly should launch you directly into sainthood. Now that my eleven-year-old has proclaimed he wants to one day serve our country, I'm faced with the conundrum of knowing how hard it will be for us, yet knowing there's nothing else he could do that would make me and my husband more proud.
When I recently asked my brother if there's anything I can say to the soldiers I come across in the airport without seeming like I'm crazy or disrespectful, he told me, "Tell them thanks, and to be careful." So I say that now, to anyone who is actively enlisted and may be reading this—thank you, and please be careful. People like you, and those who served in the past make me insanely proud to be an American. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for your service!

Guest Post: A Special Treat From Troy Blackford!

My favorite part about Twitter has been the discovery of some amazing authors. When I contacted fellow Minnesotan Troy Blackford about making guest appearance on my blog, he asked if he could post an original short story. Specializing in horror and sci-fi, Troy has seventeen published short stories, and six longer works available for Kindle and in paperback, so I was thrilled by the offer!I'm honored to give you Pulling at Threads by Troy Blackford.
Jake Tannenbaum spent the morning of his big mid-term presentation on the Civil War for his eighth-grade history class not in preparation, but itching away at his arm, which felt like like the most popular dish at a mosquito buffet. His flesh tingled and burned, and no amount of fevered scratching would put an end to the suffering. Underneath his sleeve, the skin on his forearm was as red as an embarrassed squirrel.

The other kids on the bus on the way to school has shot him strange looks, even when he tried to conceal his desperate itching. He dug his nails into his flesh and scratched away, trying to use his overloaded backpack to hide his furtive motions. It was little use: people weren’t just staring. He heard Jenni Taylor talking about him to a giggling group of six near the back. He groaned inwardly: video of his itching fit was probably already uploaded to Vine and shared on Instagram. The discomfort of the crawling sensation in his arm grew so sharp, he gave up caring what his classmates thought of him. He couldn’t help it. To not scratch his arm would be to welcome insanity.
Not that scratching helped. When he got to the tall, boxy building that housed the Daniel D. Tompkins Middle School, a few minutes remained before the start of Jake’s class. He took the opportunity to dash to the bathroom, where he could itch away with some privacy before he had to make his big presentation. He locked himself securely in a stall, where no one could see him, and rolled up his sleeve to get a look at the damage.
His forearm was the color of a stop sign, with a giant bump like a mosquito bite, up by his elbow. He dug at it with especial vigor, and to his dismay he saw a small, flat ribbon-like object protruding from its center. It looked too thick to be a hair, but Jake couldn’t think of what else it might be. His mind raced over a number of distasteful options: some kind of tapeworm, a dead blood vein. He didn’t know. He wasn’t a doctor.
And, judging from the feeling of disgust he felt deep in his guts, he didn’t have the stomach to be one. He grabbed ahold of the end of the small, white ribbon-looking thing and began to pull. Jake expected it to hurt, but it didn’t. He also expected it to eventually come out of his arm, but he was disappointed there, too.
He watched with dismay as inch after inch of the strange, string-like ribbon came out of his arm. He pulled and pulled, and soon he had over two feet of the stuff coiling into a spiral against his arm. It showed no sign of coming completely out. The only change, Jake noted, was that his arm no longer itched as badly. That, and he now felt completely sick to his stomach. 
He fought his overwhelming disgust and kept pulling at the ribbony thread, certain that it must eventually reach an endpoint. Instead, it merely continued to coil as he pulled it. He soon had a bobbling twist of at least four feet of the stuff coming out of his arm, with more apparently to spare. Jake began to panic: what if this was some of his important bodily tissue, like tendons or nerve ganglia or something, and he was setting himself up to be paralyzed for life in his right arm? Or worse?
The stuff certainly looked organic: like a wide, flat strand of spider’s web. It was even a bit sticky, though it looked smooth and dry. He tried pulling some of it apart, but even with all his force, the thread remained stubbornly cohesive. Jake fought the panic that rose inside him, and struggled to think what he should do. Before he had a chance to gather his thoughts, the door to the bathroom opened. 
That brought him back to the present. He had to get to class. If that bell rang and he wasn’t in his seat, he’d get an automatic zero on his presentation. When that presentation counted for almost a quarter of his grade in that class, being late wasn’t an option. And history counted for a lot here at Tompkins Middle School, or else they wouldn’t have named it after a Vice President only known to Jeopardy championship winners. His parents would never understand that he failed the most important assignment of the year so far because a seemingly endless thread wouldn’t stop unspooling from his skin.
Besides, his arm seemed to have stopped itching. The immediate issue was solved, anyway. Jake rolled his sleeve down, and saw that he had another problem: feet and feet of loosely coiled thread hung out of his sleeve as though someone had sprayed two whole cans of silly string up his shirt. He began to furiously stuff the waxy, flat thread back up into his sleeve, having neither the time nor the inspiration to think of anything better to do with it.
The strange filament bunched up as he stuffed it into his sleeve, making it look like he had jammed handfuls of paper towels around his arm in an effort to look like a weightlifter. On the right side, at least. The overall effect was more than faintly ridiculous. 
Jake panicked, not seeing what else he could do. Insane arm string or not, he had to leave. He flung the bathroom stall open and glanced in the mirror above the sink. 
Jake thought his reflection looked like a kid who’s just been told his parents had been in a car crash. With the added benefit, of course, that his right arm seemed to be puffily expanding. He snorted a gust of exasperated air through his nose and turned to exit the bathroom. 
Reggie Lafayette stood in front of the far sink, staring Jake down in the mirror. Jake realized with a jolt how strange he must look to Reggie: coming out of the stall after no flush, not washing his hands. Just staring at himself in the mirror and leaving.
“You alright, bud?” Reggie asked, sounding both cautious and concerned.
“Oh, yeah,” Jake blustered. “I’m okay. I just...” 
He trailed off. Just what? Just yanked thirty feet of string out of my arm, with no end in sight? 
“Thought I might throw up there for a second. I’m pretty nervous about the presentation.”
Reggie nodded at this. Jake breathed an inward sigh of relief. He may have just provided the only reasonable sounding explanation for his behavior.
“My dad tried to tell me it’s not a big deal,” Reggie said. “To just get up there and not get all nervous about it.” 
He shook his head, flicked the water off his hands, and grabbed a few sheets of the brown, pulpy paper towels from the dispenser. 
“I wanted to ask him if twenty-five percent of his year’s pay at work every depended on one five minute presentation, but the idea of saying that to his face made me even more nervous than the presentation.”
Jake managed a weak smile. 
“I’m sure you’ll do okay. It’ll be over before you know it.”
“Yeah, you too. Will do okay, I mean.”
“Right.”
The pair left the bathroom, Reggie never commenting on the giant, lumpy bulge in Jake’s right sleeve.
#
"And that,” Jake said from the front of the class, his right arm clamped behind his back, “is how the U.S.S. Alligator, the U.S. Navy’s first submarine, was lost at sea before ever having an official maiden deployment.”
The class clapped with surprisingly genuine appreciation. Jake felt relieved. Though the story of the failed attempt to use the first U.S. Military submarine to fight the Civil War had seemed interesting to him, he didn’t really know how his classmates would take it. Even Mr. Fridley seemed impressed.
“That was very interesting, Jake. Good use of research.”
“Thanks,” Jake said, gathering his notes from the podium.
“Even if your choice of posture was a bit unusual.”
The class snickered. 
“Yeah, well, I’ll remember that next time.”
Jake quickly moved his stack of papers so that they awkwardly blocked the majority of his bulging sleeve. The report was over, but Fridley’s remarks had brought unneeded attention to his arm. It felt like every eye in the class was hanging on him like an ornament.
He plopped down in his seat and put the papers across his arm like a little paper bridge. It didn’t really help. It only made him more noticeable. Jake slid down in his seat, miserable. Before he could start feeling too sorry for himself, Zoe Winters had walked up and taken her place behind the podium. The pressure was off Jake. Nobody would pay any attention to him for at least five minutes.
She began a speech about Sherman’s march to the sea, a far more conventional topic than Jake’s submarine presentation, but that wasn’t why people were paying attention. Zoe was widely regarded as the cutest girl attending Tompkins. Jake sighed with relief, but it was short-lived: he realized with dismay that his arm was itchy again. He reached up and discreetly tried to scratch his arm. 
It wasn’t working. The thick layer of thread was getting in the way. He grunted in frustration. To his dismay, Zoe stopped in mid-sentence to fix him with an angry gaze--an expression which seemed to say “I didn’t grunt during your speech!”
A moment later, the loud wailing of the fire alarm filled the class room. Everybody jumped at once from their seats. Every fire drill the school ever held had been a greatly orchestrated thing, announced to the students well in advance. No one had warned them about the alarm sounding now. 
Some of the more level-headed students glanced at the clock. It did not give them good news. Past fire drills had fallen at times like ten o’ clock sharp, twelve fifteen, or one thirty. Nice, clear cut times. The time now was nine twenty two. Hardly the kind of time to hold pre-planned fire drill.
“Calm down, everybody!” shouted Mr. Fridley, who looked more than slightly perturbed himself. He walked over to the door and grabbed the knob, only to hiss sharply through his teeth and pull his hand away as though he had touched a hot stove. Without saying anything to his students, he used his suit coat as a makeshift oven mitt and gingerly attempted to open the door again.
The instant the door swung open, flames leapt through the frame and into the classroom. Mr. Fridley jumped backwards like a startled cat. Students gasped. 
“Don’t worry!” said Donny Fitzwick. “I’m calling the fire department right now.”
“The fire department already knows!” rejoined Greg Terrell. “What do you think the alarm is for?”Donny lowered his cell phone, his face crumpling in fear. Mr. Fridley flung the door closed again. Smoke started to pour underneath it.
“Alright, kids. Stay calm. Don’t panic,” he muttered in a sort of half-hearted mantra.
“Why not?” said Zoe. “We’re on the fourth floor. We can’t get out through the door or we’ll burn alive. And we can’t go out the window without splattering.”
“Maybe we can,” said Jake. 
People wheeled around to look at him. 
“What are you talking about?” asked Reggie and Donnie at the same time.
Jake reached into his sleeve and began to pull out the thread.
“I know it’s really thin, and it might be hard to hold onto, but this stuff won’t break.”
Jake still hadn’t revealed that the stringy stuff was coming out of his arm, only that it was up his sleeve.
“What the he...ck,” Greg said, catching himself in time, “is that?”
“I don’t know,” Jake said truthfully. 
“Who cares what it is!” cried Hannah Gallup. “It’s gotta be better than burning to death.”
The class tended to agree. Mr. Fridley opened the windows as Jake pulled feet and feet of thread out of his arm. More than he thought he would need. When he got to a point where he had over a hundred feet of the stuff, he pushed six desks together with Mr. Fridley’s big desk, and wound the thread around and between the legs of all the desks. It created something like a giant, bound together life raft of desks.
He caught Mr. Fridley looking at him with a perplexed expression.
“For ballast, or anchoring, or whatever,” he explained.
“Oh, I understand what you’re doing. I just don’t understand where you’re keeping all that thread. Let alone why you brought unbreakable thread to your history presentation.”
Jake said nothing, but continued to wrap the thread tightly around the desk legs.
“Okay, the smallest people should go first. That way, if this isn’t enough weight to hold you, we’ll be able to hold it and stop you guys from dropping.”
“Oh, man,” said Hugh Deckard, the obvious smallest person in the class. “I hate heights.” He stared out the window, at the ground below. “I can’t do this.”
A giant tongue of flame shot under the door and set the nearby walls smoldering.
“Okay, okay!” he said, grabbing the thread.
He got a tight grip and began to descend. The desks didn’t budge.
“Alright, Zoe’s next,” Jake said. 
Soon, all but four students and Mr. Fridley had made it safely down to the bottom. The fire by the door had spread, and the room was filling with a haze of smoke. They had to hurry.
“You’re a go, Greg,” Jake said, motioning the larger boy over to the window.
This time, when Greg made his way down the strange lifeline, the desks began to scoot towards the window. They heard Greg give a little yell out the window as he lurched swiftly towards the ground. 
Mr. Fridley flung himself in front of the desks and dug his heels in. The extra weight was enough to stop the forward progress of the desk-anchor.
“Oh man,” said Donny, as the next two students descended the line. He, Jake, and Mr. Fridley were putting all their efforts into holding the desks in place. 
“You know what this means, right?” he asked. “It means that I’m going to crash like a ton of bricks.”
Sweat stood out on Jake’s head. He had never suspected this. He had thought the desks he had lashed together would be enough. Clearly he was wrong.
“Here, help me heave these to the window,” Fridley said, panting.
“Of course!” Jake said, pushing them along. 
If they got the desks to the window, their size would prevent them from flying out after Donny and Mr. Fridley. Jake, who wasn’t particularly large, would go last as it was his thread.
“You’re a genius, Mr. Fridley!” cried Donny.
“I’m not adding any points to your presentation for that, you know. But thank you.” 
Soon, Donny had safely joined the others on the grass outside.
“Your turn,” said Jake.
“Not so fast,” Mr. Fridley said. A gust of smoke made him cough for a moment before he caught his breath. “You know I can’t go before one of my students. That would be wrong. So tell me: what is that string, Jake? Why are you so desperate to hide it from me that you want me to go first?”
Jake, reluctant but moving quickly because of the spreading flames, rolled up his sleeve. When he saw the thread issuing from Jake’s arm, Mr. Fridley gasped.
“Yeah, that’s about what I thought when I saw it,” said Jake glumly. “That’s all the more I know about it. Now go, okay? I don’t feel much like broiling today.”
Mr. Fridley, still visibly rattled, had no choice but to comply. The smoke had grown thick and the flames were steadily approaching the cluster of desks. There was no time to argue. He too, had soon made it to the ground below.
Jake climbed up on the desks, took as firm a grip as he could on the sticky thread, and lowered himself. The third story windows passed him by, then the second, and finally he had made it almost to the ground. A big loop of thread ran from his arm, up to the third floor, and then back down to his hands, where he still gripped the lifeline tightly. 
Just as he set his sneakered feet on firm soil, the thread popped out of his skin with a plosive sound.“Wow!” Jake said, pulling his arm back. 
He moved it around a little. No itching at all. He looked at the thread hanging from four stories above. It was finally out!
A second later, these thoughts were driven from his mind as flame burst out of the fourth story window he had just climbed down from. A moment longer getting out of that window, and he would have been done for. He gulped loudly at this sobering thought.
A moment later, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around to find Zoe Winters smiling at him.
“That was really smart of you,” she said, “to keep that much fishing wire with you in your backpack. Or, you know, whatever that was.”
“Thanks,” he said, trying to sound nonplussed. “Yeah, you never know when things like that might be useful.”
She blushed and turned away. He was matching her on the blush front. Reggie came over and whispered out of the side of his mouth.
“You got me off the hook, too,” he said.
“Oh, it was nothing,” replied Jake. “I wasn’t going to let the whole class burn to death.”
“Not about that,” Reggie said. “Though I do appreciate it. I was just scheduled to give my speech next, and I was freaking out. Now I won’t have to do it for at least a week.”
“Don’t thank me for that!” Jake said, laughing. “You’ll have to give credit for that to whatever started the fire.”
He was already forgetting the horror of finding an endless string coming out of his arm. When he first caught sight of Mr. Fridley staring at him with wide, startled eyes, he misunderstood.
“Yeah, that was a close one,” he said, addressing his teacher with a reassuring tone. “But we got out in one piece, after all.”
Mr. Fridley pointed at the dangling thread hanging from the fourth story window.
“Two pieces, if you count that.”
Jake wheeled around, saw what Mr. Fridley was talking about, and spun back around, wearing a sheepish face.
“Our little secret, okay Mr. Fridley?”
“Of course I won’t tell anyone!” his teacher said. “You think people would believe that? I like my job, thank you very much.”
At least, Jake reflected, as the fire trucks rolled up, the maiden--and he hoped only--deployment of ‘mysterious, unending arm string’ had been more fortunate than that of the ill-fated U.S.S. Alligator.
###
Troy Blackford is a 29-year old writer who lives in the Twin Cities. He currently has seventeen published short stories, five works available on Kindle & Paperback, and a host of short stories on his website.
He's married and his first child was born in July 2013.
He likes reading. He likes writing. He likes cats. 
He's reachable at this e-mail address: troyblackfordofficial@yahoo.com

Book Review: TWO (One Universe #2) by Leigh Ann Kopans

Elias and Merrin are on the run.

After escaping the Biotech Hub, they thought they could breathe easy, or at least a little easier. But when bombs slam into the Social Welfare Hub only hours after their arrival, it becomes clear there's nowhere to hide - and no end to what Biotech will do to get them back. 

Their last chance for safety and answers is the Clandestine Service Hub. CS has intel on the real, broader purpose behind Fisk’s experiments , and the newfound knowledge of the horrors hidden deep within Biotech’s walls sends Merrin back to recover a secret formula that could ruin the Supers’ world forever—and might just save the lives of the Biotech victims spiraling out of control.

Elias' sisters are counted among the victims of Fisk’s experiments, and if Elias can't find and help them, their powers will destroy them--sooner rather than later. Returning to the place it all began terrifies him, but with Fisk ready to make an example out of Merrin, and his sisters’ lives --and the lives of all Supers--hanging in the balance, he might not have a choice. If he can't find the courage to face his worst fears, Elias might lose more than his newfound powers. 

He might lose everyone he loves.

I recently raved over the first book in this series, One. Fortunately I didn't discover it until just a few weeks before the release of the second book in this series, Two, as I wouldn't have been very patient if I had to wait. Two was a rarity in the world of sequels as it did not let me down, and it did not fall victim to the dreaded "sophomore slump".

The story begins right where One left us hanging. Using their powers together, Merrin and Elias fly at supersonic speed to another Hub where they hope to find safety. Merrin spends the majority of the book still hell bent on finding a way to make her "one" a super, irritating Elias in the process as he's ready to do whatever it takes to keep them safe, even if that means losing their powers completely. I loved the addition of the new characters in the mix, Hayley being my favorite.

It was refreshing to hear the story in Elias's voice. He definitely has other intentions than Merrin, and it was fun to hear some of the thoughts that went through his head when they first met. It was also refreshing that Elias and Merrin weren't separated for nearly the entire book like sequels often do.

To avoid spoilers, I feel like I can't say much more without giving too much away. Anyone who enjoyed the first book in this series will be equally pleased with Two. Leigh Ann is able to keep you on your toes throughout, wondering if Merrin and Elias will be caught, and worrying that they may be trusting the wrong people.

I happily give Two the same five zombie rating as One. Fans of Leigh Ann Kopans won't be disappointed!


Raised on comic books and classic novels, Leigh Ann developed an early love of science fiction and literature. As an adult, she rediscovered her love for not only reading, but also writing the types of fiction that enchanted her as a teen. Her debut novel, ONE, is about a girl with only half a superpower, the boy who makes her fly, and her struggle to make herself whole. Leigh Ann, her husband, and four children live in Columbus, Ohio. When she’s not immersed in the world of fiction, you can find her obsessing over the latest superhero movie or using her kids as an excuse to go out for ice cream (again).




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Book Review: Ever (The Ever Trilogy) by Jessa Russo

Seventeen-year-old Ever’s love life has been on hold for the past two years. She’s secretly in love with her best friend Frankie, and he’s completely oblivious.
Of course, it doesn't help that he’s dead, and waking up to his ghost every day has made moving on nearly impossible.
Frustrated and desperate for something real, Ever finds herself falling for her hot new neighbor Toby. His relaxed confidence is irresistible, and not just Ever knows it. But falling for Toby comes with a price that throws Ever’s life into a whirlwind of chaos and drama. More than hearts are on the line, and more than Ever will suffer.
Some girls lose their hearts to love.
Some girls lose their minds.
Ever Van Ruysdael could lose her soul.
Ever immediately hooked me in with its original story line. Right away we discover that our heroine is haunted by her old neighbor and best friend—a handsome guy she developed feelings for just before he died. Ever can see Frankie and speak to him, but he's nothing more than a mist, unable hold her as she wishes he would. Poor Ever is struggling with her feelings for Frankie that can never been realized when a cute guy moves into Frankie's old house across the street. Ever soon finds herself in the most unique love story, knowing she'll never have a relationship with Frankie although she loves him, and totally falling for mysterious Toby, the old guy next door.

The story was a fast read. I fell for Toby right along with Ever, and was blindsided by the twist toward the end. Interestingly enough, the twist reminded me of one of my own books, and made me enjoy the story even more. The characters were likable, filled with individual flaws and quirks that made them interesting.
The only thing that almost made me stop reading was the pet nickname Frankie has for Ever: "Doll". I had a hard time shaking the image of a 1950s teen donning cropped jeans and a cardigan. But once I was able to get past that, I really enjoyed the story, and can't wait for the sequel as we were left with quite the cliffhanger. Four zombies for Ever!
When not writing or reading, Jessa Russo is out and about making memories with some seriously awesome people - for an introvert, she's pretty extroverted. You can bet that she's also ALWAYS secretly planning her next trip to New Orleans. (If her eyes glaze over, she's in one of her stories, or NOLA.) Southern California will always be her home, but she's open to suggestions. An unashamed super fan of all things paranormal romance, Jessa reads, writes and breathes paranormal YA, rarely straying from her comfort zone.Follow Jessa Russo:WebsiteTwitterFacebook

My Crazy November

Ah, it's that time of year when we get to break out warm boots, sweaters and jeans, pumpkin anything and everything, watch as the leaves turn breathtaking colors, and celebrate the spooky awesomeness of Halloween (I especially can't wait for Halloween this year as I'm helping my 13-year-old throw her first big party this coming weekend).

But there's one event that's overshadowing my excitement for fall right now: NaNoWriMo.

For those of you who haven't heard of this, and are wondering what language that was, let me break it down for you. NaNoWriMo stands for National Novel Writing Month. It's a nationwide event that was created to entice writer's to challenge themselves to write 50,000 in the month of November. There's no prize or reward, other than the satisfaction that you can pump that many words out in that short of a time period. The first time I participated in NaNoWriMo, I finished my first full-length novel in over a decade, and actually published it a few months later. It's a great way for writers to break past all their fears, and train themselves to write faithfully. Anyone can sign up on their website, and it's free.

Originally I wasn't going to take the challenge this year as my personal life has been pretty crazy with busy children and the craziest harvest season I've seen in 20 years, but I've been running across giant instances of writer's block, and decided this is probably what I need to break through them, and get back on track. My goal in NaNoWriMo will be to complete the new adult romance novel I started last week. Still, I think I'll be lucky if I can complete the targeted number of words.

To any of my fellow authors also taking the leap with me this month, best of luck to you, and let's connect (my username: "jnau"). For those of you who aren't, please excuse my spotty absences and neglected blog posts. Hopefully by December I'll still be sane enough for things to go back to "normal".