Stuart R. West's Blog, page 54

Mad Scientists and Hunchbacks

Over the Halloween weekend , I conducted a lot of research. I watched a lot of mad scientist movies. I mean, a lot.

One thing I noticed is every mad scientist always has a hunchbacked assistant. How this strange scientific anomaly first occurred bugged me.

Moreover...why? So I delved even further into the subject.
Is there something special in a hunchback's skill-set that qualifies him to be a mad scientist's assistant? Furthermore, where do the mad scientists find them? I can see the Craig's List posting: Wanted: Hunchback to aid in performing world conquering experiments. Must be mute, not too bright. Communicates through moaning only. Contact Dr. Evilhausen at 666-666-6666.

Really, I've yet to see any of these hunchbacked assistants contribute much. I suppose it started with Ygor in the Universal Frankenstein film series. And he botched his first big assignment, retrieving an abnormal criminal's brain. Honestly. Good help is so hard to find these days, particularly in the mad scientist field. But the complete incompetence of movie hunchbacks is probably not why mad scientists seek them out.

It's certainly not for their communication skills, either. Usually, they moan, whine, freak out. Terrible at dinner parties.

Of course there's the entire dominance theme. Everyone knows a good mad scientist likes to lord it over people, suffering from a real God-like complex. And who better to push around than a hunchback? Whips are usually involved, a fetishistic choice, I suppose. Honestly, hunchbacks really oughta think about unionizing.

If I was a mad scientist, I'd probably rather have someone around who's adept at adjusting the radioactive meter on the monster-making machine, or at the very least able to polish the living head hydroplasty case on a regular basis.

I have nothing against hunchbacks. Don't get me wrong. Hunchbacks are people, too. It just baffles me why mad scientists keep hiring them.

There are no hunchbacks or mad scientists in my dark books. Yet. But you can find plenty of other spooky thrills and chilling suspense at my Amazon author's page. Tell 'em Ygor sent you. 

David Fraser: Worst Interview EVER!

Please welcome back Dave Fraser, half of the awesome writing team of the terrific Jose Picada mystery comedy series. The other half, Heather Brainerd, couldn’t be reached. Sick or something. I guess.


SRW: Hey, Dave, how’re things going?

DF: Things are going great. Well, they're going okay, not great. I broke a tooth last week. You might think it was on candy or something. Nope. It was on a salad. Stupid lettuce. The tooth didn't hurt much, but there was a filling in that tooth and the chip exposed an edge of the filling. Every time I spoke, my tongue rubbed up against the sharp filling edge, so I spent a few days not talking much until my dentist could see me. My kids said it was a great few days.

SRW: Huh. That’s…interesting. I suppose lettuce can be deadly. Anyway, tell us about your thrilling new book, The Dragon-Kitty. It’s an interesting title, already has me dying to read it!

DF: Me too. 

SRW: Well…okay…but, you wrote it, Dave! Having read all of your Jose Picada books, I’m quite intrigued by your newest work. So, what’s The Dragon-Kitty about?
DF: It's the heartwarming and spine chilling tale of eleven-year-old Percy Potter, who discovers one day that not only is he a wizard, but he's also the son of Poseidon.  And his sister develops magical powers over ice and snow. She accidentally freezes their town and sings some very catchy songs. And a vampire and a werewolf both fall in love with him while he tries to throw a magic ring into the volcano where it was forged.


SRW:  Hm. So. Ah…a fantasy then? Sounds like a lot of disparate elements and heavy influences. Been watching a lot of movies lately, Dave? LOL. I can’t imagine trying to pull off songs in a novel. But I’m along for the ride. What inspired the novel?

DF: Nothing but my own original thoughts. I did NOT simply walk over to my kids' DVD collection and blatantly steal ideas. 
SRW: Yikes. Simmer down, Dave. No one’s accusing you of anything (cough *Frozen; Lord of the Rings; Twilight; Harry Potter *cough). I’m sure you put your own spin on things. So…where does the titular Dragon-Kitty come in?

DF: You forgot Percy Jackson. I mean....never mind.

SRW: Um, Dave…is there a dragon-kitty in the book? It’s featured on your interesting cover.

DF: Well, you see, I did the cover first and then wrote the book. It seems as though I forgot to include a dragon-kitty. The working title for the sequel is The Dragon-Kitty 2: The Ninja Dragon-Kitty, so I have another chance to put one in somewhere.

SRW:  Well…I would think you’d want a dragon-kitty in there somewhere. I mean, it IS the title of the book. But, whatever. Okay, let’s talk about your main character, Percy Potter. 

DF: Percy Potter. He's a boy with an unruly mop of dark hair with a scar on his cheek in the shape of Johnny Depp. He also speaks in textspeak, like LOL and OMG and HSKLGIYSKH. That really cut down on the amount of typing I had to do. There are entire sections of monologue where it's just strings of letters.

SRW: I see. Sounds like it’ll appeal to a wide audience. (Maybe.) Well…hm…how about an excerpt?
DF: (Excerpt:)
Percy eyed the troll's club, not at all happy with the way that it was being swung at his head. The club crept closer with each swing. He had an advantage in speed, but that wouldn't last much longer. If only he hadn't lost his wand, he'd have a chance. The only escape was to confuse the troll."R U familiar with Immanuel Kant?" Percy asked.It took a few seconds for the words to sink in. After two more swipes at Percy's head, the troll rested on her club like a cane, blinking rapidly. "Can't?" she said."Right. He argued that all actions can B good or bad based on the choice between duty and inclination, not the outcome. R U trying 2 kill me because U want 2, or because your master told U 2?"The troll cocked her head to the side and stared at Percy. "Yes." Her face settled into a confused expression, which wasn't uncommon for a troll. "That is 2 say," continued Percy, " from your point of view, smashing my head in is a good thing. However, and I cannot stress this strongly enough, this is merely 1 way 2 look at it. Consider the possibility that this is not a good thing.  U have a choice. Do U want 2, or do U have 2?"The troll leaned down and inhaled deeply through her nose. "Percy Potter smell good." She batted her eyelashes.A wave of nausea swept through Percy. There was just one thing that might save his life.Romance. "Oh, thank U," said Percy. "And your smell is very...unique."She smiled at him."And are those chunks of unicorn in your teeth? They really complement your gingivitis."With a giggle, the troll scooped Percy up, tossed him over her shoulder, and carried him into her cave.


SRW: Wow. I mean, really…wow. When’s the book come out, Dave? Or is it out? I can’t find it anywhere.

DF: It's a very limited release. Currently, it's only for sale in Sweden in a chain of book stores called Das Bṏṑk Stȍŕ. Full international availability will be timed to coincide with the movie release.  Here's David's author photo he sent. Something smells funny.
SRW: Movie release. Right. Dave…this book doesn’t exist, does it?

DF: Sure it does. There's a book cover and an excerpt. How can there be a cover and an excerpt if there's no book? 

SRW: Sigh. Whatever, Dave. I give up.

There you have it folks. Be on the look-out for Dave Fraser’s The Dragon-Kitty. Let me know if you find it. In the meantime, be sure and check out Dave and Heather's Amazon page: FOR BOOKS I KNOW EXIST.

Halloween Scares!

Boo! Sorry, sorry, sorry. Didn't see you drinking coffee there.
Give me a break, though, it's Halloween. The scariest time of the year. Now, color me jaded, but in my annual mini holiday horror film-fest, I'm finding fewer things actually frighten me. Zombies? Ho-hum. Werewolves? Don't make me laugh. Vampires? What, pray tell, is scary about sullen male models who sparkle? Ghosts? Well, maybe. If they're real. But I've never had an encounter. I sit here, bravely writing this in the daylight, basically challenging ghosts to come visit. (Of course if they did, I'd end up shrieking like a little girl, but let's not dwell on that.)

So. I started thinking...what does scare me? The answers may shock you. (Or send you cruising elsewhere in indifference.)

1) The police! I dunno what it is about these guys, but they terrify me. If one's holding the door open for me at a convenience store, I freeze up. Avoid eye contact at all costs. It's almost as if they can read into my guilty soul, that they know I cheated on one college exam. Or they can foresee the evil in my heart I'm gonna' think about next week. J'accuse! Don't even get me going if one happens to be following behind me in my car.

2) Heights! This one's weird. I wasn't always terrified of heights. Up until about ten years ago, I was a daredevil, bravely (stupidly) riding the tallest, craziest, most dangerous roller-coasters in the world. One of them I can't believe I survived. A run down amusement park was home to this dinosaur, a relic on worn and rickety wooden tracks. Fairyland Park it was called, a less than apt name. Anyway...I didn't even know I'd developed a phobia of heights until my daughter and I visited a (supposedly haunted) lighthouse in Florida about ten years back. I went looking for ghosts, found a new fear instead. At the top of the lighthouse, I couldn't look down, glued to the wall. Other visitors found the cowering big guy hilarious. Shut up! It's strange new fears can develop over the years. So look out. I'm just sayin'.

3) Personal search history on my lap-top! I'm sure the government's got a list on me already. I'm probably considered someone to watch (just not in a, you know, cool trending way). For my books, I've researched quite a few questionable topics: witchcraft, serial killers, lock-picking, guns, satanism, poison, arson, meth labs, the fun never stops. And now, male strippers. Basically, my whole life is wrapped up in this lil' lap-top. Available for anyone with a clue about hacking to see. Especially The Government. Big Brother never has to leave the sofa again.

These are just a few of the things that terrify me. Brrr. Makes me long for a good old-fashioned poltergeist haunting.

How about everyone else? Do you have any actual haunting stories? I promise I won't laugh (much). What scares you?

Hey, if you're looking to jump start your scares, consider some of my books:

Who knows what evil lurks in the heart of humans? I do!: Godland

 A paranoid paranormal tale in the vein of The Stepford Wives: Neighborhood Watch


How about a suspenseful zombie tale with some laughs and a major twist: Zombie Rapture


A decades spanning ghost story based on true events (sorta). On sale now for only .99: Ghosts of Gannaway

The bladder of a ninja

Whenever my friends start bragging about their kids' accomplishments, I hit 'em up about my dog's bladder. It's incredible. Such stamina and control, my dog's bladder surely must be considered a modern miracle.
When we go on walks, Zak urinates at least 20 times. Every time. How he manages to still withhold some for our next stop is beyond me. There's more urinating going on than walking. He can control his bladder like mad, but can't control his furniture-ripping rage at the mailman.

For you see, Zak's a bit of a control freak. Thinks the entire world's his territory, no other dog's. And he intends to mark it as such.

My wife says it's sorta Zak's way of saying hello to other dogs. Yellow graffiti. "Zak was here." You know, if people started saying "hello" this way, the jails would be packed. Something to think about.

Something else to think about? Halloween! Has everyone got their Halloween reading ordered? Well, I'm here to help...

How about a historical ghost tale? Ghosts of Gannaway


Or a serial killer, blackly comical thriller? Secret Society


Don't forget teens and religious zombies: Zombie Rapture


Find more at my author's page: Stuart R. West

Look out for Max China's Mosquito Bite!

Please welcome author Max China, the mad man behind the serial killer thriller The Night of the Mosquito. 


SRW: Max, I have to ask…are you British or do you just like writing in merry olde England? 

MC: I'm British by birth the son of a Polish war veteran and an English mother. 

SRW: I like how you’ve categorized the book as an apocalyptic serial killer thriller. At times, it is indeed quite apocalyptic, bordering on surrealism. In a good way, not an artsy-fartsy way. A solar storm instigates the action. So, are you keeping it green? A true fear of yours? 

MC: There was an event in 1859, known as the Carrington event, a solar storm hit Earth and burned out early telegraph systems. That was pretty much the extent of our technology in those days. The thinking these days is that if an event of similar magnitude occurred now, then the effects within our technology-dependent society would be devastating. Can you imagine a world without X-Box? It is a fear of mine, though I'll not be losing sleep over it. 

SRW: Hey, if it could do away with a lot of social media, I'd be all for it. 

There’s a lot going on in this book. You also include some big ideas. Your lead serial killer (yes, there are several) is descended from Jack the Ripper. What’s your take on genetic “stamping?” 

MC: Like father like son, the apple don't fall far from the tree, and so on, are old sayings. Sure a lot of inherited behaviour is learned from within the family unit, but I'm inclined to believe we follow a genetic blue-print and just don't realize. 

SRW: We’ve got a few bumbling bobbies running throughout. Emerson’s quite the poser. I’m curious as to how you view this character. Are we meant to loath or empathize? 

MC: As the book progresses, we realize he obtained the position by undermining his colleagues to make himself appear better than he is and when push gets to shove he is only able to rise to the level his incompetence allows. 

SRW: Ye gads, this book is hyper-violent. And your action/devastation scenes are extremely well-written. At times, I had to “look away.” Are there any extremes you won’t climb? 

MC: I don't write gratuitous violence or pornographic scenes, the sex and violence is necessary for the propulsion of the story only, in my opinion and really, it's just a small percentage of the book, which also covers sensitive issues. There's even a love story blossoming somewhere in there! Anything I won't cover? Probably not, but the level of detail will be far reduced in more extreme subjects. 

SRW: So, I have to say, it took me a long time to discover who the true protagonist of the book is. I won’t give anything away, but it wasn’t until the finale when he came through. Was this intentional? I must say, your tale had me guessing. 

MC: There are heroes and villains in every story. I like to keep people guessing. 

SRW: What scares Max? I mean, you’ve got serial killers—of the utmost frightening kind—running rampant throughout your tale. So give…what’re your fears? 

MC: That such people are often operating right under our noses, and we fail to recognize them. 

SRW: Why serial killers? Something we should worry about? 

MC: Absolutely. Every year people go missing, I don't know the figure for the USA, but in England, it's something like two hundred and seventy thousand every year. Of those most turn up safe and well. Up to twenty thousand vanish without a trace. Some don't want to be found. Some have accidents. Some commit suicide. And some fall prey to opportunistic serial killers. Some of these guys are so good at what they do, they've been getting away with it for years. No body, no DNA, no witnesses. Okay, it's probably just a tiny percentage, but even 1% of two hundred and seventy-five thousand is a lot of people. 

SRW: Yep, I'm afraid of serial killers, too. Because they're real. Um, it doesn't stop me from writing about them, though.

What’s next? 

MC: I'm working on a sci-fi fantasy story that covers mystery and suspense as well as murder and mayhem. It's set in an English country house which a young couple and their children move into, having purchased it for a very good price. It isn't long before they find out that the previous occupants haven't left... It's an expansion of a short story I wrote a couple of years back, and I left it as a cliffhanger. Quite a few people asked me what happened, so I decided to develop the plot into a novel.

SRW: Sweet! Now, everyone read this interview with an English accent in mind, makes it ten times cooler. Sorry, Max, what can I say? I live in Kansas for God's sake.

Check out Max's intense book here: The Night of the Mosquito.

Shoes on the highway

While traveling, I see a lot of stuff discarded off the highway. McDonald's food (where it belongs). Roadkill (Kansas has some dang big raccoons). Trash from people's unwanted lifestyles.

But it's the shoes that baffle me. Never a pair, always one. Usually a tennis shoe.


How does this happen? Is someone driving along, decides they don't like their shoes any longer? Tosses one out, chooses to keep the other as a keepsake.

Or is a hitchhiker smacked so hard by a car, his shoe flies off?

Maybe there's a crazy guy who drops a shoe at every state he passes through, a signature of sorts.

I don't know. But I tend to like to keep my shoes in the car while driving.

While out for a walk the other day, my dog sniffed out a ballet slipper. Just one, mind you. Again, I tried to understand how this occurred. It saddened me a little bit, thinking about a little girl out there somewhere, crying over the loss of a single slipper. Wouldn't it be much better to lose both and just get over it? Instead, she's holed up in her room, holding onto the surviving slipper, mourning what could've been. Another ballet dream down the drains.

In fact, there are a lot of strange things tossed out windows. Diapers. Well, other than not keeping things very green, I suppose I can understand not wanting to travel with a dirty diaper. But come on! Take it to the next rest-stop. Until truly biodegradable diapers are invented, this is a no-no.

What about underwear? Lots and lots of underwear along the highways. Now there are several options as to why underwear ends up in ditches, each one more unsettling than the last. I'd truly hate to think that truckers are so locked into their deadlines, they squirm out of their dirty tighty-whities (or is it "tidy-whities?") without leaving the highway. "This one's for you, Marge!" and whoof! out the window it goes.

Large appliances baffle me. Once I saw a dishwasher. Now you'd think that if that fell out of your truck, you'd likely notice it. 

What's the strangest things you've seen discarded along the road?

Speaking of strange, check out Secret Society, my killer thriller: One click away!

A new milestone: my first bee sting(s)!

Last weekend, I was doing yard work. Just finished mowing the yard, sweating and panting like a gorilla, and I thought why finish there? How about trimming (a chore I tend to only do twice a year; yeah, I'm one of those kinda neighbors)?

Proud of my chutzpah, I trimmed around the garden in front. Suddenly, my thigh was on fire. Huh, I thought, that's odd. I scratched like mad, tamped my thigh many times just in case somehow a spark from the trimmer had crawled up my shorts. That's when I noticed the ground cover hazy like heat off hot tarmac. I'd stumbled into a horror movie's worth of bees swarming around me.
I shrieked (a manly shriek, mind you) more out of panic than terror. Then a bee landed on my wrist. Couldn't shake it off, blow it off, thwack it off.

Okay, I've never been stung before. And at age 54, I truly thought I was gonna live the rest of my life without suffering through this heinous rite of passage. Whatever.

Be that as it may, I'd like to clear up some untrue myths about bee stings. Pay attention class...

First, it's not the sharp bite you hear about. Rather it's a burning sensation, acid eating your skin. And it won't go away. Think I'd rather have the instant BLAMMO and be done with it.

Second, whoever said that if you don't show fear in front of a bee, it won't sting you. What a load of crap! I didn't even know they were in my vicinity until they started burning my skin off. The fear came later. (But it seems I'm now on the bee's radar; lately when I've walked the dog, they chase me. I suppose the sight of a big man and large dog running from a bee may look amusing to some people, but it's no laughing matter when you're running for your life).

Third, once a bee stings you, it dies. Not these buggers! They kept attacking like the Energizer Bunny, stinging me time and again. My hand swelled up into a bowling ball. My thigh contains a map of the world in bruises. I didn't even get to take satisfaction that my enemies would die afterward.
Fourth, to become immune to bee stings, eat five worker bees. Yeah, be my guest. I understand the Golden Poison Arrow Frog tastes great over a grill, too.

Fifth, if you dig the stinger out with a knife and quickly suck the venom out, you won't suffer any consequences. Except for going to the ER with a carved up hand and poison in your belly.

Perhaps I need to invest in a full-on hazard suit for future yard work. Or pay the neighborhood kid to take his chances.

For more sheer terror, check out Secret Society (the book formerly known as {just like Prince!} The Secret Society of Like-Minded Individuals) from Books We Love Publishing: Extremely friendly purchase linky. 

 

Lightning Struck

Not too long ago, I told my mom I took the dog out for a walk between our frequent Midwest storms.
She said, "You shouldn't do that. You're gonna get hit by lightning."
Huh. "Mom, are you really worried I'll get hit by lightning?"

"Why, yes!" She punched it hard, emphasizing my naivete.

Just this week, I had a bout of nausea. Since the well eventually runs dry on things to talk to my mom about, I shared it with her. We love to share ailment stories.

She said, "I hope you're not having a heart attack."

Wha? After I pooh-poohed that idea, telling her I walk many miles four times a week, she replied, "Maybe you're walking too much."

Sigh. Still on the case, she followed up with, "Maybe you should take a suppository."
Gah! No thanks. As a child, suppositories had been one of my mother's favorite forms of torture hiding under the guise of "medicine." All the abominable "pills" ever did was make my stomach more upset and cause me a year's worth of humiliation. Never again. 

Of course my mom knows no better. After all, her parents fed her spoonfuls of kerosene (KEROSENE!) when she was sick.

Anyway. I come from a long line of worriers and negativity. If there's nothing currently wrong, my family will work hard to find something to worry about.

My grandmother was the same way. While I was in junior high, she lived with us. Every day I'd rush home, amped up that I'd survived another school day.

"Hi, Grandma," I'd say, "how was your day?"

"Long and boring. Can't see nothin', can't do nothin'. May as well be dead."

Buzz-kill, Grandma.

It's a can't win situation. At times, I find myself falling into the same hole. Quickly, I try to dig out. I know all too well how unpleasant it can be to hang around negative people. Daily, I struggle to look at the positive so as not to punish my loved ones.

So, the next time my mom hammers me with her usual diatribe, "The world's terrible, everything's going to pot, everyone's out to rip you off."

I'll respond with, "Yes, but at least we have twerking." Maybe I'll even demonstrate a little.

For something even more terrifying than suppositories, check out my newest book,  Ghosts of Gannaway . 

The Judas Ant

I don't care how many CGI kiddy movies are made about ants, they're not cute. All wiggly limbs and creepy-crawly.
Especially since we have a weird infestation in our bathroom. It's not like we eat in there. But, suddenly, they're crawling the walls. It's like a crappy Syfy movie, "Antacula Vs. Toiletsaurus."

So I went to our local hardware megastore. It's an extremely overwhelming gigantic place, especially for a mechanical dolt like myself. My idea of being handy around the house is operating the TV remote (and that can be quiet taxing since we have about six remotes for one set-up).

I wandered the aisles until someone finally took pity on me and then redirected me toward the "pesticide expert." Which is kind of mind-boggling. Just how many "experts" do they have running around in that store? 

When I told the guy my problem, he offered me a malicious grin. Said, "Got just the thing for ya. Kill 'em good and dead." (Like there's any other way to kill them. "Dead," I mean, not "good.") Then he dragged his finger across his throat, accompanied by a "Kkkkkkkk." Sort of an insect sound in itself. No wonder he's the bug expert.

"Ant Bait's" what I brought home. Now, get this...the box claims the drones will take the poison back to the queen ant. Harsh.

I started wondering about the ant who brings back the poison to his queen.  He'll watch as the queen takes a bite, expecting a cookie. Instead, she'll gag, look at the carrier, say, "Et tu, Brute?" The rest of the crowd will die, pointing judgmental ant limbs toward the poor lil' guy. And all the while, he's probably all "What?"

Assuming he survives, he's gonna have some heavy-duty ant therapy to wrestle through.

This innocent ant will have a terrible legacy, too. Henceforth, he'll be referred to as "the one who killed the queen." I pity him, I truly do. In ant history books, he'll go down as the biggest mass murderer ever. In tiny ant colleges, in little ant philosophy courses, the professor will ask the class, "If you could go back in time and kill the Queen Slayer while he's in his pupae stage, would you?" 

And all he ever set out to do was please his queen. An unfair world, especially if you're an ant. Guy can't catch a break. So sad.

I'm rethinking my "antageddon." I'd like to trash the ant-bait, let them live. Are they really hurting anything? Besides just kinda, you know, being gross?

For another frightening tale, check out Ghosts of Gannaway . Spookier than ants crawling down your bathroom wall, guaranteed.

If you could change one thing in the past… by guest blogger, Meradeth Houston

Because Meradeth Snow's excellent new YA, sci-fi, romance book, Travelers, is out, I thought I'd turn my blog over to her this week (and because I'm feeling lazy). Go get Meradeth's book now, thank me later.
Thanks so much for hosting me today, Stuart! I love your work and it’s always a pleasure to hang around these parts.
So, time travel. Let’s be honest: if it were easily available, most of us would use it for trivial things: To fix that gaff in the staff meeting yesterday, to make sure you didn’t actually give someone a vacuum for Christmas (even if they asked for one), or just to make sure you had enough time to finish your taxes. I mean, really, the little stuff would be a whole lot easier. And that little stuff probably wouldn’t change much in the grand scheme of your life.
But, there are other things we might change. Like, the big stuff. The regret-at-night-before-falling-asleep kind of stuff. We’ve all got those kinds of things lurking, just waiting to be remembered when we’re laying in bed, about to fall asleep (wait, we do all have those, right? I’m not the only one?....Right?). Anyhow, I am pretty sure we could all come up with a few of those things we might change. For me, I can think of a few: not rooming with the crazy girl during my Junior year of college. Not listening to certain people who said I shouldn’t take more writing classes because I should stick to my strengths in science. Not doing that really awesome genetics internship in Peru (ugh, I so wish I’d had the guts to do that!). So, yeah, lots of things I’d probably do differently.
Of course, the bigger changes mean lots of other things would be different, too. I’d never have met really influential people on my life. Never gotten my current job that I adore. Never have ended up in my field. Or something like that. Who knows, right? For me, that’s kind of the fun the whole time-travel thing: imagining what would be different. Sometimes it might be better. Other times, maybe worse. It’s hard to say because of how many things influence us, but it’s still interesting to imagine.
Though I still wish I’d done that internship. Hello, what was my dumb 18-year-old self thinking? Or not thinking…  About TRAVELERS: Sienna Crenshaw knows the rules: 1) no time traveling beyond your natural lifetime, 2) no screwing with death, and 3) no changing the past. Ever. Sienna doesn’t love being stuck in the present, but she’s not the type to to break the rules. That is, she wasn’t the type until her best friend broke every one of those rules to keep Henry, her twin brother and Sienna’s ex-boyfriend, alive. Suddenly, Sienna is caught in an unfamiliar reality. The upside? Henry is still alive. The downside? Sienna’s old life, including the people in it, has been erased. Now, Sienna and Henry must untangle the giant knot in time, or her parents and all the rest of the Travelers, will be lost forever. One problem: the only way to be successful is for Henry to die.
Pick up a copy here!
Bio: Meradeth's never been a big fan of talking about herself, but if you really want to know, here are some random tidbits about her:
*She's a Northern California girl who now braves the cold winters in Montana.
*When she's not writing, she's sequencing dead people's DNA. *She’s also an anthropology professor and loves getting people interested in studying humans.
*If she could have a super-power, it would totally be flying. Which is a little strange, because she's terrified of heights.
Find Meradeth Houston online at: www.MeradethHouston.com Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Tumblr, Amazon, Goodreads, and of course her blog!