Briana Vedsted's Blog, page 4

Here With the Wolves

Briana Vedsted:

My upcoming Werewolf book is in the spotlight!

Originally posted on Mari Wells:

Today I’m honored to have Brianna Vedsted, and an excerpt of her novel “Here With the Wolves”.

Chapter one

Thick clouds mask the full moon, but its presence cannot be completely hidden. The sluggishness of the black night is suddenly shattered by a woman’s scream. A creature, covered in shaggy fur, sniffs the base of a tree trunk before pointing its nose to the sky and letting out a heart-chilling howl.

A howl in the distance answers the first. The shriek abruptly ends and is followed by a chorus of eerie, jovial baying.

***

“I can do this.” I repeat over and over, looking at my own reflection in the mirror. “I can do this.” I’m gripping the edge of the countertop with such force that my knuckles are white.

All I can think about is last month’s hunt. It was a nightmare. I stayed at the back the whole time, but wasn’t able to stay out of the action. A werewolf attempted to flee, and since I was unarmed, I stepped out of his way. I was just thankful he didn’t try to kill me. That’s when a knife sunk up to the hilt in his shaggy back. I looked up and saw my pack mate, Malcolm, glaring at me from across the glen. Black-skinned, blue eyed Malcolm has hated me ever since I was chosen to be the pack’s future alpha. As shameful as it sounds, I’m scared to death of that tall, lean Slayer. And like the coward I was, I retreated and didn’t stop until I’d reached the truck. I locked myself in the cab and didn’t come back out until the hunt was over.

Thankfully, Malcolm took care of the wolf, but with the look he gave me, I’m sure part of him wishes that he’d taken care of me, too. And today I’d have to face him. Today I must face everyone at the Grange. But how could I, after my humiliating display? How could I even look my alpha, Kenneth, in the eye after I’d shamed him?

I just can’t kill werewolves.

***

I stood with my back to the wall, listening to Kenneth as he spoke about his plans to venture to the wolves’ nest next week. The rest of my pack members surrounded the podium, eating up his words like hungry dogs. One woman looked as if she might actually drool with anticipation.

They all looked forward to the hunt, as they always did. But I just felt sick. My head was spinning and I turned around, in hopes of making it to the window for some fresh air. That was when I noticed how close I had been standing to Malcolm. I stiffened when I noticed him and attempted to slip away. But as I moved, Malcolm looked up. I froze as he took a few steps closer and leaned against the wall just inches away from me. “Hello, Ness.” He spoke low and nodded in my direction coolly.

“Hello, Malcolm.” I was attempting to stay calm, even though my heart was already racing. I tried to assume a cool, confident attitude, but Malcolm didn’t seem to notice.

“You appear a little sick, Vanessa. Are you looking forward to the hunt next week? Think you might actually manage to take down a wolf all by yourself?” Malcolm grinned coyly, flashing his white teeth at me.

“You bet,” I threw back my head, glaring down my nose at him.

“I’ll believe it when I see it. You may have been chosen by Kenneth, but he is going to see how pathetic you are. When you humiliate him again, he’ll probably turn you out of the pack.” Malcolm chuckled with glee.

A pale hand clamped down on his shoulder and Malcolm yelped as he struggled to look back at his attacker.

That was the first time I’d ever seen Kenneth that angry. He hissed so softly that I could scarcely hear him, “Back down, Malcolm. Keep away from Ness. Hear me?”

Malcolm winced, but had to give in, “I hear.”

Kenneth released him and said louder, “Pack dismissed. Meet me back here a week from today. To Columbus!”

A loud chorus of “To Columbus!” followed Kenneth and I out the doorway.

Once outside, Kenneth blinked several times, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the brightness. He did that so often, even on cloudy days, that I often wondered just how well he could see. He acted as if his eyes always hurt. “The pack is anxious.” The words were spoken so softly that I wondered if Kenneth was talking to himself or to me.

“Are you mad?” I cocked my head to one side, waiting for his reply.

“Of course not. One day you’ll be great and then everyone will stop giving you such a hard time.”

“Do you really think so, Kenneth?”

“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have chosen you.” He put his arm around me and walked me to my car. “I know you’ll be able to do it this time, Ness. You were born for this.”

I managed to nod. “If you say so.” I tried to believe what he said, but in my heart, I doubted everything I’d been taught. Momentarily, I wondered what Columbus would say if we met. Columbus is like my fifteenth great Grandfather. My family, this whole wolf pack, really, are descendants of Columbus. I remember the day Kenneth took down the big, leather-bound book and read the history to me. I sat on the floor at his feet, enthralled as he told how the first Slayer was born. And in that moment, I heard his voice again.

“Christopher Columbus, the Grandfather, came to America for blood. The blood of his enemies: the werewolves. See, Ness? It is an ancient feud, between our family and the werewolves. The Grandfather found the wolves in Spain and eradicated them, but not before overhearing a conversation about “all the wolves in the New World”. So, after securing a crew, a couple of ships and enough gold from the crown, he set off, determined to rid the world of the foul beasts. Not a moment after the Grandfather set foot on American soil did he see them. Thousands and thousands of indigenous werewolves. Left alone amongst the Indian populous, the wolves had bred and multiplied with nerve-wracking speed. The Grandfather set to work, but could not make as much as a dent in them.

“His crew was outnumbered and Columbus wasn’t canny enough to outwit the wolves, or anticipate their next move. They all would have been killed if Columbus hadn’t thought up a brilliant plan. His plan was to mix just enough wolf blood with his own so that he could think like the wolves and outsmart them. He was wise enough to know, however, that if he didn’t choose wisely, his offspring would be just as much wolf as the creatures he sought to destroy. Somehow he managed to find a woman whose bloodline had almost been completely drained of wolf blood and he took her for his bride. The result of the union was a tiny daughter. The mother died giving birth, leaving Columbus to raise and train his young child. He would have no outside help, for too many wolves had discovered his plan and wished to foil him to save their species.

“This did not stop Columbus, though. He knew if he couldn’t kill the wolves himself, he would find a way to use his daughter as a tracker. But in an unfortunate turn of events, the little girl was left behind when Columbus set sail for home. She was left with her people, a child with pale skin, to stand out and be humiliated by both her Indian and wolf kin. How easily they could have killed her and freed themselves from worry, but wolves are merciful. The girl was spared and raised in the ways of her mother’s people. But Columbus returned one day and took the teenaged girl away with him. Being a gullible child, she allowed herself to be molded into the killer Columbus had meant her to be. He raised her, not as his daughter, but as a creature with a purpose. By now he was formally married, to a noblewoman, and could not afford his relationship with an Indian woman to be known, so he lied about the child, saying he found and captured her to be his handmaid.

“Just a few years before he was sentenced to prison, Columbus sent his daughter back to her country of birth and set her loose on her people. Her growing years of being cared for by these people were forgotten and she killed without compassion, without the faintest repentance. She was everything her father had hoped for, and more. She married a human man and produced half a dozen grandchildren with the need to kill wolves already imbedded in their minds.” Kenneth had closed the book there and smiled at me. “Do you see, Ness? It is our responsibility to kill wolves. We must not let Columbus down.”

***

With a terrible ache pounding behind my temples, I desperately needed to clear my head. I wanted to go home, but my house was so depressing and drab. And most importantly, my house was empty. Right now, I needed someone to talk to. A friend would come in handy right about now, but since I didn’t have any, I went for the next best thing: my mom. I decided to pay her a visit. My mom is a gentle woman, a human, and even though she doesn’t know that I’m a Slayer, she’s very supportive and always has a word of comfort hidden up her sleeve for me.

When I got to her house, I saw a white van parked in the driveway. That’s odd, Mom doesn’t usually have friends over. I thought to myself as I walked up the front steps and opened the door. Inside, I found my mom and sister, Viv, lolling around the kitchen and watching the man who was halfway hidden under the sink.

“Ness, this is Jacoby,” Mom called out when she spotted me.

Jacoby’s eyes were like two pools of molten turquoise, they were the first things to greet me when he popped out from under the sink. “Hi.” He flashed me a quick smile before diving back under the cabinet.

“Hello,” I muttered softly as I pulled out a barstool and took a seat, reaching for a pad of paper and a pen. Maybe I should have stayed at the grange or gone home with Kenneth. I’d wanted a chance to talk to Mom, but with Jacoby here, that wasn’t going to happen. I started absent-mindedly doodling on the paper, not even realizing that I was drawing a very terrifying picture of a wolf.

That’s when Jacoby started to talk, “If any of your cats climb into my van, I get to take them home.”

I did a double-take, wondering if he was talking to himself or to us. Viv and I looked quizzically at each other, wondering if we should say something or not.

Jacoby’s booming laugher thundered through the room.

Eyes narrowed, I looked up.

Jacoby was sitting cross-legged on the rug, laughing heartily at our expressions. “I’m kidding, girls, just joking! Cats always end up in the back of my van. There was this one time a cat got in there and I didn’t see it. I went home and parked in the garage and didn’t go back out until Monday. Then I see this cat sitting on my seat! And whew, did my van stink!”

Never in my life had I ever met a person who was as open and friendly to a total stranger as Jacoby was. He seemed unreal, other-worldly almost. Just then, he caught me staring at him, and he unabashedly winked at me! I felt my face get hot as I turned my attention back to my drawing, but I couldn’t help but think that Jacoby was the strangest man I’d ever known.

That being said, for a single afternoon, sitting in the kitchen with that plumber, I forgot who I was and the job I was meant to do. For the first time in my life, I felt normal. The members of my pack had never treated me as their equal. And they never joked and laughed and spoke as openly to me as Jacoby did.

“Are you out of high school?” Jacoby asked me curiously, as he studied my face like he was wondering how old I was.

“Yeah, I graduated last spring.”

“Cool. You’re older than you look. I thought you were seventeen or so.”

I laughed. “I know. Several people have told me that.”

“It’s not bad to look young. That way you’ll look forty when you’re sixty!”

“Eww! Sixty…” I grimaced at the thought of being old.

Jacoby laughed at me again. “Being old isn’t so bad.”

“Oh, and how would you know? You can’t be much older than thirty.”

“I’m twenty-seven, thank you very much!”

“That’s not old!” Viv and I exclaimed together.

Mom joined in on the laughter, trying to act serious as she mock-scolded us. “Now, now, you young whipper-snappers! Stop talking about age, you’re making me feel old!”

“Don’t worry, Megan,” Jacoby soothed, “You’re like Ness! You look very young. I’m guessing mid-thirties, right?”

Viv rolled her eyes and I broke out laughing. “Close enough,” I told him as I smiled at Mom who grinned back at me.

***

All too soon the afternoon ended and Jacoby began to pack up his tools. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” he promised.

“But tomorrow is Saturday.” Mom pointed out.

“I don’t have a desk job, so I don’t work banker’s hours. I’ll be back around nine.”

I followed him out the door.

He seemed puzzled, “You’re leaving?”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t live here?”

“No, I have my own place.”

Jacoby frowned, “Do you have a boyfriend or something?”

“No,” I couldn’t understand what he was getting at.

“Then why do your parents let you live alone? There are lots of bad people in the world. You could get hurt—”

I laughed before I could stop myself. “I’m not afraid of humans. I can take care of myself.” I dropped my voice a little, “It’s the animals that scare me.”

Jacoby’s eyes widened and for a second, he seemed about to say something, but then he shook his head and grinned enormously, “You’ve got spunk. I’ll see you tomorrow, Ness Vancouver.”

“Tomorrow,” I promised.

***

“Hold this here.” Jacoby gestured to the two bits of pipe he was gluing together. I stood next to him, holding them as still as possible. “If your hands get stuck in the glue, there’s no way I can get you loose, so I’ll just have to install you under the sink with everything else.” His tone was so casual that I thought he was serious until I looked up into his eyes. “Just kidding,” he chimed innocently.

Later, I tried to get him back by clipping a clothespin to the top of his hat.

Jacoby found the clothespin almost instantly and tried to pinch my ear with it. I ducked away, out of his reach, and then looked up just as he threw it good-naturedly at me, laughing when it bounced off my forehead.

That was the best Saturday I’d had in a very long time.

While I sat at the table and ate a bowl of pea salad, my mind began to wander. Why couldn’t I be as comfortable around my pack as I was with Jacoby? Why couldn’t I feel like I belonged with them? If they made me as happy as I am now, I’d embrace my birthright and join my alpha brothers, Johnny Laree and Dustin Daniels, this very minute. Those two boys were born the same month I was, and Kenneth had chosen the three of us to be his successors. But I’d been blocking them for the last four years. I wouldn’t let them get close to me. They are better slayers than I am. They’re stronger, keener, and deadlier. They’d each killed a dozen or more wolves since their initiation summer. I knew that they were waiting for me, because without me, they’d never reach their full potential.

Alphas always come in threes. Each alpha is one-third of a jigsaw puzzle. And when all the pieces are connected, everything just sort of comes together. We’d all be stronger and more powerful.

But the last thing I wanted was to be like either of them. They killed wolves as easily as I swatted at mosquitoes. And I never wanted to be that way. I wished that Kenneth would have picked a different girl. I wish he’d have picked Margery or Kate. Then I’d be free. But he’d chosen me to carry on his legacy. In short, he’d cursed me.

Jacoby cleared his throat, bringing me back to reality. Glancing up, I noticed Jacoby and Mom were both looking at me rather oddly.

“Is something wrong, dear?” Mom sounded worried.

“No, why do you ask?”

“You were glaring at the salad. I didn’t like peas when I was growing up either, but I never glared at them. It didn’t make them taste any better.” Jacoby was trying to lighten the mood, but he was also cautious.

“Oh, I was just thinking about something.” I shrugged my shoulders as if it wasn’t important, but my heart began to beat faster, all the same.

“Something or someone?” Mom asked gently.

“Maybe both,” I frowned back at my bowl, hoping to change the subject.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Jacoby offered, “I know something that will put the bit back in your mouth!”

I perked up hopefully.

“Come and hold this light for me.” Jacoby held up a flashlight and batted his eyes playfully.

Sighing dramatically, I went to sit beside him and hold the flashlight.

Relieved, Mom laughed at him and then went back her flower arranging.

***

The sink was fixed. All the fixtures were in working order. There was not one single leak.

It was time for Jacoby to go home.

While Mom wrote a check and my little brother, Collin, dug through Jacoby’s toolbox, Jacoby did something that no normal person would ever do: he invited himself to study the pictures that were all over the refrigerator. “Who are those two?” he asked, pointing to the picture of my little brothers standing side by side in front of the tiger enclosure at the zoo.

“That’s Corey and Collin.” Mom chirped.

“Cute,” he continued looking. His eyes got wide all of a sudden and he pointed to another photo, asking, “Who’s that?”

To my horror, it was a picture of me. It had been taken only a few hours after I was born, I was lying on a white hospital bed, hardly wearing a stitch of clothing.

“That’s Ness.” Mom’s answer was so nonchalant.

Jacoby turned to grin wickedly at me, and I had the feeling my newly adopted family member had just found some dirt to use against me.

I tried to act like it was no big deal, but I knew I must have been blushing because the room seemed to be getting uncomfortably warm. But as uncomfortable as I was, I ended up laughing too.

Still howling with laughter, Jacoby said to Mom, “The best part is how embarrassed she got! Look how red she is!”

When the laughter finally died down, I wrapped my arms around my aching sides and let out a sigh. I watched Jacoby swing Collin around in a circle and toss him into the air. “Don’t drop him,” I teased.

Jacoby stuck his tongue out at me before setting my little brother back on his feet.

Standing on the porch and watching him pack away his things, I invited, “Why don’t you stay for supper?”

“Ah, I’d like to, but I’ve got one more job to go to before I get to call it a night. My neighbor called me and said her shower is backed up. No rest for the weary.”

“You’ve been here since this morning and haven’t had anything to eat! Can’t you even stay for ten more minutes?” Mom looked hopeful.

“I really wish I could, but I need to be going.” Jacoby shuffled his feet and frowned at the thought. I could tell he wasn’t ready to go yet.

“Hang on just a second!” I begged. I ran back into the house and filled a plastic bowl to the brim with the strawberries Mom had picked from the garden this morning. When I handed the dish to Jacoby, his expression brightened.

“How did you know?” He demanded of me.

“Know what?”

“That strawberries are my favorite!”

“Oh, I didn’t know. But I guess everything worked out good.”

“They sure did! I’ll get your bowl back to you in a few days, and I’ll be back for more of these!” He winked, but was momentarily distracted by the sound of wheels on gravel.

I followed his gaze and what I saw made me freeze in my shoes.

Malcolm’s blue car had just pulled into the driveway.

I shook my head. This wasn’t possible. What was he doing here? I put my hand on Jacoby’s arm, “I guess you’d better go. Dad must have invited a friend over.”

Jacoby nodded and started to turn away.

I turned to walk back to the house, but my foot got caught on the water hose Mom had stretched across the driveway, and I would have fallen if Jacoby hadn’t caught me. “Thanks.” I murmured, glancing sideways to see my dad park his truck behind Malcolm’s car, just as Malcolm emerged from the vehicle.

“Such a klutz, aren’t you, Ness?” Malcolm mocked me.

I opened my mouth to throw a sour retort back, but it was Jacoby who spoke first, “That doesn’t seem quite fair to the lady, Friend.”

Malcolm’s attention was no longer on me. He looked Jacoby up and down before smiling, “Perhaps you’re right. My apologies, Ness.”

Jacoby nodded stiffly, gave me a little push back towards my mom, and then climbed into the cab and closed the door. He waved as he pulled out of the driveway.

Still bristling at the thought of Malcolm being here, I quickly followed mom back into the house and grabbed my coat off the chair with every intention of leaving.

Dad was the first one in the door and he seemed not to have overheard Malcolm’s and Jacoby’s brief exchange. Dad smiled at me, “Hi, kiddo! It smells good in here. Megan, do have enough food to feed another mouth? The stove went out at Malcolm’s place so I invited him to eat with us.”

“Actually, Dad,” I answered before Mom even had the chance, “I was just getting ready to leave—”

Malcolm put his hand out, blocking the door as he insisted, “Why don’t you stay? You know how much I enjoy your company.”

I snorted, knowing that Malcolm enjoyed my company as much as he would enjoy the company of a garden slug. I wouldn’t put it past him to try lacing my food with rat poison, but Mom begged, “Oh, Ness, do stay! I made pot roast, your favorite!”

Sighing, I dropped my coat back over the chair. For my mom, I would stay. But that didn’t mean I had to talk to Malcolm. He is trying to ruin my life. It’s bad enough he gets to pick on me when I’m with the pack, but now he’s coming into my home and has my parents believing he’s as good as gold?

Malcolm turned out to be a wonderful actor. He pulled out my chair for me and pretended to be a gentleman. The worst part was that my parents bought it! Hadn’t my dad ever seen how much Malcolm hated me? Was Dad that blind? I couldn’t fault Mom. After all, she’s just a human. She doesn’t even know that Dad and I are Slayers or that werewolves exist. Dad was forbidden to share anything with her, as was I.

It is hard for a girl not to be able to tell her mother anything. I couldn’t explain why I had such vivid nightmares about dying, why I was gone so often or why I hung out with Kenneth so much. I’m afraid Mom thinks she’s a failure as a parent or that I don’t love her. But she’s never tried to barge in on my life. I respect her for that. I think that Mom is the most laidback human I’ve ever met. Its too bad I didn’t inherit that trait from her.

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Ask a Character

Out of my four published books, The Night I Walked off of Boot Hill has been the most popular so far. After reading a post about an author interviewing her own character, I was inspired to put a new twist on this idea. Since I feel like I already know everything about my characters, I’m wondering what kind of question you (yes, YOU! The person reading this right now!!!) might have for my character. Today I’m talking about Barbados Tom from The Night I walked off of Boot Hill. For those of you who had read the book, or are just curious about this (fictional) old west outlaw, bring on the questions!!!

Once I’ve got several questions for Tom, I’ll make a post answering your questions.

I’m thinking about doing this every Monday for a new book character each week. I know I interviewed most of the characters from my upcoming werewolf book, but haven’t really taken the time to talk to my western characters. Except for Billy the Kid, who rather enjoys hanging out with D.

So, dear readers, what would you like to know about Barbados Tom?

Happy Valentine’s Day

In honor of the ‘Lover’s Holiday’ that is upon us today, here is an excerpt from my western romance book, Me and Billy the Kid.

***

Softly, Garrett asked me, “Angel, won’t you stay with me? Don’t go back to Billy.” My mouth fell open, but no words could be heard.

Garrett wasn’t finished; he held out a satchel, “Make up your mind Angel: stay here with me and let me protect you. I’d be good to you, Angel, and I’d be good for you. Or you can take this bag; inside there are twenty dollars, a change of clothes, your gun and knife, and enough food and water to last you a week, and you can run. Run as far as you can. Maybe Billy will take you back and maybe not. Either way, I’ll always love you, and I’ll be hoping you’ll come back here and knowing it won’t take long for me to win you over, really win you over. And I’ll be wishing you’ll come to love me, too.”

I hadn’t expected this. Garrett loved me? Sheriff Patrick Garrett loved me? Impossible, and yet, hadn’t I know that all along? Didn’t I see it in his eyes? Or tell by the way he walked beside me, protective and loyal? Yes. I had known. And hadn’t I been just the tiniest bit proud? Or maybe the right word was smug. Yes, that was true. But did I love him back? My heart pounded and I screamed at myself, ‘Traitor!’ as I finally unraveled one of the many feelings I had for that tall, dark eyed man that was beside me.

I felt a…fondness towards him. Of course, it was nothing like the deep love I had for Billy, but still, there was something. But if I had to choose, even if Billy didn’t love me anymore, I would never, could never, choose Garrett.

He was the Law. I ran from the Law. So why wasn’t I running now? My heart was pounding in my throat as I reached out and roughly took the satchel from Garrett’s hands. I turned, but not in time to miss seeing the immense hurt in his eyes. But the hurt was replaced almost instantly with determination. I could tell Garrett was going to try and earn my love.

I spurred my horse forward, hearing him call after me, “I still love you! I’ll be waiting for you! Angel, please!” I tried to block his words, but they found me, hurting and burning me like hot coals.

***

Amongst the Wolves

Briana Vedsted:

One totally awesome excerpt from one totally awesome werewolf work-in-progress book! Check this out!!!

Originally posted on Mari Wells:

I’m honored to present you all an excerpt from Amongst the Wolves by Danielle Vedsted. Thank you, Danielle for sharing with us.

I lost my train of thought and my mouth started working on its own accord. I told him what had happened yesterday with Dustin and then about my unusual dream. After I was done I took a deep breath, “So, what’s happening to me?”

Kenneth sat in silence for a moment, apparently deep in thought.

I squirmed, waiting for him to say something.

Finally, Kenneth looked at me again and gave me a reassuring smile. “I think you lack companionship. It sounds to me like you need a friend.”

“Wait. What? I’m lonely? That’s why I just dreamt about a pack-wide apocalypse and totally flunked my practice hunt yesterday?”

“It’s not unusual for a trainee to mess up every now and then. No one is perfect.”

I rolled my eyes. That couldn’t be the whole reason.

Kenneth interrupted my thoughts. “Have you tried getting to know any of the other Slayers?”

“Um, about that…” I tried to figure out a way to tell Kenneth that I wasn’t anywhere near as popular as Ness thought I was.

But Kenneth already seemed to know. “Sometimes slayers find it hard to get along with humans. Sometimes we just don’t mix well.”

“Mom is a human.” I blurted out.

“She is indeed. Your father never had a problem with humans. He loved them. That makes him an even better slayer, as it is our soul purpose to protect humans from the wolves. The better you know and understand humans, the easier it is to look after them.”

“And if you can’t get along with humans—?”

“Look at it this way. Pretend that humans are cats. If a slayer is a ‘cat person’, they’ll give their all to protect the ‘cats’. But if a certain slayer is more of a dog lover, they care less about taking care of the ‘cats’.”

“So its bad that I don’t get along with humans?”

“It depends. Do you hate the humans?”

“Of course not.”

“Do you love them.”

“Y-e-s…”

“Do you want to see the humans killed?”

“No!”

“Then you’re a good slayer. You know what you’re supposed to be doing. You have a good heart. You just need to be around people who care about you. Your slayer family cares about you, Viv. The humans you go to school with are narrow-minded and care only about themselves. Do you understand that?”

I nodded.

“Good. Oh, Viv, there’s something else that you must know. You live in a world of chaos. You live side-by-side with both wolves and humans. You go to school with them, too. But slayers are not allowed to fight with wolves in public. Do you understand? You need to avoid wolves.”

“If wolves are so dangerous, why do you let them live?”

“I don’t understand your question.”

“Why do you let wolves into the same schools as humans and slayers? Why do we all live in the same towns and go to the same stores, libraries and playgrounds?”

“Because most wolves are humans, Viv. Unless they are users or royalty, they can only transform during the full moon. Then the wolf in them takes over, causing them to kill humans and fight slayers. The rest of the month, wolves are just like us. They have jobs and families and grand futures. But, as with humans and even slayers, wolves can be corrupted. There are wolves who can be outstanding citizens, and there are wolves who turn into robbers and murderers. We are all the same, Viv, keep that in mind. You have to be careful. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“I need to go, Viv. But please call on me again if you ever need anything.”

“Sure thing.” I mumbled, almost positive I wouldn’t.

I watched Kenneth pull out of our driveway and when he was out of sight; I snuck back upstairs, grabbed my hoodie, and returned outside for an early morning jog.

I jammed my earphones in and cranked it nearly all the way up. As I ran, my thoughts circled around my head and what Kenneth had said. Could it really be that I was lonely? Was that it? I figured I better forget about it. After all, if Kenneth said it, it must have been true. That being, he said to avoid the wolves. And there was one wolf I couldn’t possibly avoid… Gabe.

All at once, the hair on my neck stood straight up and I barely had time to stop and turn around before I got bowled over.

I relied on my trusty pocket knife, but returned it to its place when I saw the huge grin on Gabe’s face.

In one swift move, I was back on my feet and moving again.

“You’re getting a little rough aren’t you?” I asked curtly.

“Why? Did I hurt you?” he asked with little amusement.

“No. I’m not sure if you could.” I retorted with a mocking laugh.

“I could.” He said darkly.

I turned and almost knocked him down, “You think so? Well, then, go ahead and try it.”

I expected him to get mad and walk away. But instead, he smiled, “Rough night Viv?”

I sighed, all the energy seemed drained from my body and I felt weak in my legs, “Yeah. Sorry about being bitter with you.”

He shrugged, “Its okay. Besides, I now how it can be with Kenneth.”

“What?” I hissed, regaining the fire inside me.

“Relax Viviana,” he rolled his eyes, “I wouldn’t hurt him. I was just, you know, in the neighborhood and I decided to stop in. Then I overheard you and Kenneth talking. That’s all.”

“Uh-huh. What were you doing it the neighborhood? Eating small children?”

He smiled and gathered me in his arms, “Only you Viv, only you.”

Kissing my forehead, he chuckled and grabbed my hand, pulling me towards a little group of trees and insisting that he wanted to show me something he’d been working on.

“Now remember,” he instructed in a hushed voice, “Don’t freak out. Okay?”

“Um, okay?”

He smiled encouragingly, kissed my forehead, and took a few steps back.

He’s going to change! My mind warned me, and I tensed to either run or fight if the need arose.

Gabe looked at me seriously, “Chill Viv.”

I watched in raw fear mixed with fascination while Gabe’s muscles flexed and grew, his pupils dilated and he looked straight at me. My soul itched to reach into my pocket and pull out my knife, but I withheld the temptation and clenched my teeth as Gabe slowly, cautiously made his way towards me.

The words Kenneth had said raced around my head and, as if he could read my thoughts, Gabe whispered in an unusual husky voice, “Don’t be afraid.”

Fall’N Love Crafts She has a Facebook page by the same name.

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With Love

Briana Vedsted:

A lovely poem especially for Valentine’s Day!

Originally posted on Fall'N Love Crafts:

I hope everyone is having a beautiful day! And in honor of the Valentine’s Day spirit; I have made a post for you to enjoy.

Love has found me,

And has given grand things,

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Some tips for new authors

The greatest advice I can give to a new author is this: If you love writing, then do it. Do it because it makes you happy. And just ignore negativity.

That’s the best I have for you aspiring authors. Because there is going to be negativity. You can’t stop or prevent it, so you just have to live with it. Don’t let it get to you. I’ve heard that there are some reviews who are purposely cruel with their reviews because they are trying to be helpful by ’thickening’ the new author’s skin. And then there are just the bullies or dream smashers who are out to hurt you. Ignore all these people. Write for your own enjoyment. This is tough to do if you’re trying to provide for yourself and/or your family, but its something that you must do.

Don’t let anyone tell you that you can’t be a writer. That your book isn’t good. Or that you aren’t a good author. Their opinion really doesn’t matter. That may sound really mean or arrogant, but unless you want to let every bad critique get to you and make you feel worthless, this is the best attitude to have. Just live your dream. Its is what you want that is important. Don’t let other people dictate your life.

Here are a few post from other authors about the negativity that authors can/will face and a few ideas on how to deal with it:

http://legendsofwindemere.com/2014/02/08/paranoia-in-self-publishing/#comments

http://shannonathompson.com/2014/02/09/the-era-of-hating-and-how-it-affects-readers/

http://readfulthingsblog.com/2014/01/07/the-legacy-you-leave-a-few-thoughts-on-literary-hate-packs/

http://dupler.org/2013/06/26/how-to-handle-a-bad-review/

http://jadereyner.com/2013/08/21/bullying-on-goodreads/

 

Reviews…Do they help?

Today was the first time in a long time that I’ve bothered to log into Goodreads. I’ve only had one review in the last several months (this one was on Amazon) and just haven’t thought any reviews would be going on, anyway. Well, I was wrong. I didn’t get reviewed, really, but I got some ratings. Some 1 star ratings. The first 1 star rating I noticed was on . I was a bit disappointed. Then I saw the second 1 star rating. Even though it was disheartening, I was impressed that two people I didn’t even know bothered to read my book. Then I decided to look at my other books to see if there was anything new. There was. Two more 1 star ratings for The Night I Walked off of Boot Hill. And guess what? The ratings came from the same two people. It was the same for The Ballad of Margaret Hearst (The Untold Story of Margaret Hearst). Two 1 star ratings from the same two people. And, to my great unhappiness, it was the exact same for Me and Billy the Kid. I’m going to make a guess. I could be completely wrong, but I feel pretty sure that I’m right. The two people (do they even deserve to be called people?) didn’t read any of my books. I have a few reasons to support my guess. The first one, the most obvious one, is that I could for the most part keep track of everyone who bought my book. A family member or friend would let me know that they’d bought my book (thank you all again!) and a few days later I would see a sale had gone through. And then there’s my second reason. If you don’t like the first book you read from a certain author, are you going to spend money on another of their books? How about four of their books? I doubt it. Anyway, I know I wouldn’t. Especially when Me and Billy the Kid is a fairly expensive e-Book. If I didn’t like a 99cent book, there’s no way I’d try the author again with an $8 book. It just wouldn’t happen.

Okay, so this was a pretty frustrating day. I started wondering what gives these kind of people the right to hurt random strangers who have done nothing to them but give “birth” to a book and present it to the world, wrapped carefully with a bit of the author’s own soul? How could any person be so cruel? I know several authors who are going through this same thing. And yes, I’ve always thought that bad reviews are a rite of passage for an author. But it doesn’t count if the book wasn’t even read!!! Obviously these ‘reviewers’ (maybe the name ‘dream smashers’ would be more appropriate?) looked at my cover and hated them. Okay, so that wouldn’t be a first for me, but bear with me. So these dream smashers are art haters! That is it! They aren’t lovers of literature, because if they were, they would have at least read the book before making a judgment. I’ve heard that a picture speak a thousand words, but are all my covers that hideous? I don’t think so. So that leaves only one option. These dream smashers just enjoy hurting people and its best to ignore them. If they can’t give you the time of day to actually read your book, why should you waste time worrying over their rating. Of course, other potential buyers are going to see that 1 star rating and shy away…

Or maybe they won’t.

Out of curiosity, I looked up The Hunger Games on Amazon. Out of 19,000+ reviews, over 350 of them were only 1 star reviews. And some of those reviews were pretty brutal. But quiet frankly, I loved The Hunger Games. And obviously a lot of other people did too since there was a movie made from it.

So maybe reviews should just be ignored. Many of them do more harm than good. Yes, getting a good review makes you feel like a real author and getting a bad review came make you feel worthless. But when you get right down to it, what matters more? Are YOU happy with your book? Do YOU love it? Yes, for those of us who are trying to make a living off of our writing, the opinions of others are going to matter a great deal. But YOU, as the author, can’t change what those people think. There are going to be people who adore your book and eagerly await the next one. And there are going to be people who just can’t handle your book and don’t even read the whole thing. But, again, you can’t do anything about that. You have no control. All you can do is remember what YOU feel. And as for me, I love my books. I don’t care if other people love them. I don’t care if other people hate the covers I choose. I just don’t care. The people who are important in my life are the only ones I do care to hear their honest opinion. Other than that, I am just going to ignore negativity. It is going to be hard, but I can’t afford to let other people get me down. And to all those dream smashers I simple want to say this: The End.

Not bad for my 310th post, right?

The Lady Shoots

Here’s an excerpt from my current WIP, The Lady Shoots.

***

Stepping out of the cool evening breeze and into the brightly lit barn, Noel found herself surrounded by several dozen dancing couples. Many of the people recognized her and gave her a loud welcome. Blushing at suddenly being the center of attention, Noel began to turn away, but Ryker gently urged her forward.

“I can’t dance,” she whispered to him hastily.

“Nonsense, there’s nothing to it,” Ryker promised. “I’ll show you.” He lightly pressed one hand against her side and took her other hand in his own. Whispering instructions to her, Ryker led her through a slow two-step dance without any difficulty at all.

Excitement bubbling up inside of her, Noel giggled and spun around in a silly little circle. “I can dance!” she cheered.

“You did very well!” Ryker commended.

The fear of tripping and making a fool out of herself quickly dissipating, Noel found that she enjoyed dancing. She caught on very quickly to the steps that Ryker taught her and in no time, the two of them were whirling across the floor, braving even the liveliest of tunes. Lost in each other’s eyes, Noel couldn’t remember a time when she’d enjoyed herself more.

At one point, Ryker borrowed a guitar from a member of the band and began to play. Tapping his toe and chuckling to himself, Ryker ran his fingertips over the strings experimentally. Finding the instrument to be perfectly tuned, Ryker began to play in earnest, his skilled fingers thrumming across the strings with ease, bringing to life a vigorous melody. Looking deep into Noel’s eyes, Ryker grinned and began to sing.

Noel stared openly. Never would she have imagined such a glorious voice could belong to a tough, range-roughened cowboy such as Ryker. That sweet, deep, twanging voice was something that only an angel should rightly possess. She thought she could never tire of watching his flashing white smile transform his tanned face into a strange object of beauty as he laughed and sang. Noel stood with a group of girls from town, her hands clasped together, and her eyes bright as she watched him.

***

Songs in a story

What is your opinion of a character singing? For example, (all you Hunger Games fans will know what I’m talking about) when Katniss sings to Rue as she dies, the author included the words to the song in the book.

But for those authors out there (okay fine, I’m talking about myself) who cannot come up with an original song, how do you go about describing how this particular character sings? Other than the obvious details like saying the singer has a deep voice or a soft voice, how do you really capture such a moment, such as when the hero of the novel sings to the heroine, effectively stealing her heart?

I am struggling to write such a scene. I have the perfect music video for inspiration, but I just am unsure if I should attempt to write a song, or if the song itself will only take away from the character himself.

Okay, so here’s my inspiration:

So what do you think? Song or no song?

The Home Fire excerpt

Here is a bit of a sample from my newest book, The Home Fire.

***

A pair of almond shaped, hazel eyes squinted past her shaggy, corn silk bangs into the pouring rain. Letting out a deep sigh, the young woman let the flap fall back down into place. She was shivering and inwardly cursing the unnaturally cold September weather. The rain had hardly let up the last three days, and even when it did, it was replaced by the howling wind. All the wood was soaked, so there was no hope of a fire. And now, the rain had saturated the heavy canvas tent and water was starting to drip down into the only shelter.

The blond plopped down onto the pine boughs, beside a petite, teenaged brunette and rubbed her cold fingers together.

The teenager looked up at her with eager blue eyes. “Does it look like the rain will stop soon, Kidd?” she asked hopefully.

“No, Dan. I don’t think so.”

Dan’s shoulders slumped and a tear fell from her eye, onto the face of the sleeping toddler she held in her arms.

Kidd looked down at little, three year old Shey who coughed in his sleep now and again. “He needs medicine.” Kidd said absentmindedly as she brushed Shey’s dark hair back off his forehead.

***

Coming April 2014