Desiree DeOrto's Blog

Mine Forever Cover Reveal by Kate Bonham!

COVER REVEAL

Mine, Forever(Deadly Women, Book One)Author: Kate BonhamBook OneCover Designer: Desiree DeOrtoEdited by: Swish Editing & Design Genre: Dark RomanceRelease: 16 December 2016
BLURB
JETT
She's mine.
Ever since I first laid eyes on her, I knew there was something about her but I had to be sure.
I had to know she was like me.
Now, after what I've put her through, I own her.
But they keep trying to pull her away from me.
They keep trying to destroy my world forcing me to unleash hell on earth to keep her in my arms.

EBONY

I’m broken, alone and hated by my own family. 
When Jett Black walks into my life, I know I'm not safe.
Not safe from him, not safe from anyone and yet I can't get enough of him.
He's my savior in every way, shape and form. 
Finally, after years I felt as if I was on the right path until forces try to tear us apart – forces which are trying to kill me. 

But I won’t give him up – he’s mine...forever. 








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AUTHOR BIO

Kate grew up in Western Sydney, Australia, hoping to one day have a pet dragon and castle to roam around in. Then the Khaleesi stole her life and she was forced to reinvent herself. 

It was around the age of 15 when she really thought she could make it as a writer, and after course after course on different writing styles, she finally gulped down her fear and pursued independent publishing. 

When she's not writing, she's spending time with her boyfriend and their zoo of pets that include snakes, spiders, lizards, gecko, an axolotl and a bird. 

Contact Kate
Facebook Author Page | Instagram | Twitter Facebook Fan Group | Facebook Street TeamAmazon Page | Goodreads Author Page

Mom Life: Episode Two

FIVE STAGES OF BAD MORNINGS
My children have somehow forgotten that today is Saturday, and as such they should have slept in, thus allowing me to sleep in. At the same time, I have forgotten that I do, in fact, have four children who do not follow the 'Saturday-sleep-in' rule, and stayed up until three in the morning devouring the book Dirty English by Ilsa Madden-Mills (ah-ma-zing book. Read it. I haven't been forced to finish a book in one sitting just by its pure awesomeness in a long, long time). So needless to say this morning was 'fun'. And by fun I mean I'm surprised my children are still alive.
If you're going to sneak, don't argue while doing it. And thus began my morning, bright and early at 8am, a mere four hours since I passed out from reader-ly bliss (it takes me a bit to fall asleep). Now normally the lack of sleep wouldn't have bothered me. I run three businesses from home while somehow managing to not go all homicidal on the entire planet, so lack of sleep is the norm for me. 
Normally I would have just crawled out of bed and waved my children away while staring at my coffee pot as it tortures me with its slow brewing.
Normally my kids would just bounce around me and argue a bit, before staring with zombie-eyed intensity at Word World or whatever cartoon I'd happen to put on to get them out of my a**.
This morning was not normal.
Why? Because my oldest two decided that they'd wake up quietly, sneak into the kitchen to grab the tablet, and proceed to play. That wouldn't have been an issue if it wasn't for the fact that, for some reason, they decided that the minute they got on it they'd proceed to then start screaming at each other.
*que bleary-eyed mom rage*
I immediately began going through the five stages of grief when my eyes shot open, blood shot and hurting. A tick beginning in my eye as their harrowing screeches jump-started my nerve endings.
Nothing induces rage more than shrieking, howling children.
Stage One: I stared at the ceiling in disbelief. They seriously couldn't be screaming while trying to sneak. Surely not.
Stage Two: Then, the anger emerged. Why couldn't they just let me sleep? WHY couldn't I have just had normal, sweet children that delusional parents always brag about? Those children that have no issues what-so-ever and have a halo perpetually attatched to their heads? I hated them, and myself as I pulled the blanket over my head and yelled at them to be quiet.
Stage Three: That worked for a total of five minutes. When they picked right back up, the bargaining set in. I may or may not have promised ice cream for breakfast if they let me sleep for another twenty minutes. I may or may not have started making promises to all Gods and Goddesses that I had ever heard of if they just made my heathens magically go back to sleep.
The deities have failed me yet again.
Stage Four: When the horrific realization hit me that I would actually have to get up, I felt my soul shrivel in my chest. The youngest two had jumped out of bed at all the ruckus and were adding to the exceedingly loudening noise. This was it. This was how I was going to die, for surely a brain aneurysm would occur from the lack of sleep mixed in with the baleful, haunting, spine-chilling noises emerging from the spawns of Satan. 
Stage Five: I welcomed it, admitting my defeat as I stumbled from my bed, heading straight for the coffee pot for the nectar of the Gods, knowing that there was no going back now...
Only I didn't make it that far. It's now going on 11:30, and I have YET to taste that divine, glorious liquid. Why, you may ask?
Because my children are spawns of Satan, of course.
For the next three hours, my house sounded like this:
"Put your underwear on!""Damn it, toys do NOT go into the toilet!""I don't care if she smells like ham! You can't hog the couch all to yourself!""No, you cannot play on the tablet. If you ask again I'm going to burn it!""WHERE IS YOUR UNDERWEAR?""I don't CARE if he didn't want you to play your game! We're NOT going to ship them off to the circus!""Why is there cheese in a damn boot?""GO PUT ON YOUR UNDERWEAR!!!"
Even as I'm sitting here now, writing this all out for everyone's amusement and my utter pain, they're still going at it. Harley has taken it upon herself to defy her own awkward center of gravity by trying to flip from the coffee table to the couch (and failing epically. She just kind of flops back onto the couch and has yet to heed my warning that she'll eventually get hurt). Demetry is yelling at Lexia to get away from the TV, then running up to me and saying he wants to play on the tablet (having just forgotten for the 30th time this morning that they're grounded from it). Lexia is standing there in front of the TV, naked yet again and when asked where her underwear is she tells me 'panties not hoooome' while Jace is currently taking ALL of his big car toys and parking them right under my desk chair.
Coffee has yet to be brewed.
I don't know how the rest of the day will proceed. I don't know if whatever bug that got up my children's a** will go away and leave in its place those mythical halo beings, or if it will gradually get worse. All I know for sure is that I'll need coffee to survive it, and heaven help everyone if I don't get that elixir of life.

Mom Life: Episode One

I wear many hats when it comes to life. I'm an author, graphic designer, PA, artist, but most importantly I'm a single mother of four.
As a single mom I know first hand the stress of managing four kids all seven years of age and under. As a SAHWM (stay at home working mom), I also know first hand the insanity that is trying to run multiple businesses while the youngest two are at home with me all. the. time. And it is insanity. Utterly complete insanity with no end in sight, but it's also a sh*t ton of fun.
My children are adorable spawns of Satan.
That *gestures above* is the truth. My kids are adorable (yes, I'm biased). They're also incredibly intelligent (again, I'm biased), talented (woot! There I go being biased again), and sweet when they choose to be. And that, my dears, is also the truth.
Don't get me wrong, I'd never change them for the world.... Okay, I'd change the fact that they're too independent and stubborn, and maybe throw in a dash of minion-ess just so I would feel like I wasn't going to pull my hair out half the time. Because it does feel like that. Parenting is HARD. It's stressful, irritating and a whole mess of other synonym's for 'omg I'm going to scream if you ask the same question ONE more time!'
And that's the basis of parenting. Of all of it. BUT, there's a bright side, and that's what I want to share with you.
In between the madness and constant cleaning and 'did you REALLY just take a sh*t on the floor?!?' there's the sweet moments, and the utter moments of hilarity.
Here's an example:
My oldest (Harley) is seven. As such she has a small list of responsibilities that she has to complete: i.e. chores.
Now don't get me wrong, I don't slam her with a list of things she has to do while I just sit around and watch her. Her chores (as well as the other three) go along the lines of: you make a mess, you clean it up. 
Normally that wouldn't be a big deal, until you take into account that not only is she a spawn of Satan when it comes to actually doing anything I ask of her, but that she's also a mini-me, which means that she's extremely dramatic and argumentative (Hey, we can't all be perfect, and I take full responsibility for all aspects of her awesomeness).
So lets break down how almost every cleaning conversation that her and I have goes.
Me: Harley, the living room is a mess. It's time to clean up.
Harley: (looks at me like this)
Then proceeds to pout and to tell me: 'I don't feel good.'
Me: Too bad. I don't feel good either, but there's still things that need to be done.
Harley: *rolls eyes* (yes, my seven year old has mastered the art of eye rolling). Mommy, I really don't feel good. My legs hurt and my tummy hurts.
Me: It's amazing that your legs always seem to hurt whenever you have to clean.
Harley: It's amazing that you haven't figured out that if I didn't have to clean my legs wouldn't hurt (Yes, she has also achieved a level of sarcasm to equal mine. Parenting done right!).
Now at this point I'm about to lose it. It wouldn't be so bad if the youngest of the four (Lexia) hadn't just pulled off her panties and taken a sh*t on the floor and was then proceeding to scream about it while the oldest one up from her (Jace) was trying to drive his car through said sh*t. (See? Fun.)
But Harley, being the smart little cookie that she is noticed that I'm about to completely lose my sh*t over the sh*t and her being stubborn (on top of the two hours worth of temper tantrums prior from her brother (Demetry) over doing his homework. But that, my dears, is another story). So she decides, instead of infuriating me further, to stomp her way into the bedroom, grabbing a piece of paper and a pencil along the way.
Now I KNOW that I'm on the verge of losing it, so I take my own grumpy butt outside for a 'mommy-time-out' session (they work wonders when you're starting to feel homicidal toward spawns of Satan). After a few minutes of meditating and reminding myself that I really DO love the kids and don't really want to see their demise I head back in to find my daughter waiting for me, arms crossed and a frown on her face. 
Without a word, she hands me this: 

For those non-parents out there who haven't developed the art of reading a child's writing and improper English, here is what it says:
'Dear Mommy,I can not handle cleaning places that you tell me to do just to be away from Lexia and Jace and Demetry and I can not find something to do if I do not be away from them I will not clean up and I am telling you I am sorry not out loud because I think that I look funny cause last year daddy videotaped me on the phone and that is why.'
*insert moment of hilarity*I spend the next five minutes dying of laughter. It's the first 'real' note she had ever written me, and the basis of her rebellion is because she hates her siblings (seriously, she does. Asks me every day to either kill them or send them to join the circus). To me, it's hilarious, and I'm keeping that letter forever. *que instant happy mommy*
At the end of it all she did complete her chores, along with the other three after many threats and arguments. True things didn't stay clean, but that's just how life goes.
So they are adorable little spawns of Satan, but they're mine and I love them. In the end that's all that matters.

Embracing The Darkness: The Truth Behind My Dark Depression

It becomes hard to speak. When your mind rebels against you, making you feel unsafe within your own body, the ability to cry out becomes smothered by darkness. And it is darkness, a complete void of any light, happiness, or hope, to where your mere existence (if you can even call it that) brings you more pain than any evil you may have faced in the world.


This past weekend I was consumed by it. Maybe it was because for the first time in a long time I didn't have my kids for the entire weekend. Maybe it was because of the ever present deadlines, the fear of not meeting everyone's standards, or the myriad of obstacles and emotional strain that I have been battling for months, and some even years. But this past weekend, I was terrified. I was terrified because I had come so close to doing something I promised myself I would never do again. I was petrified that I wouldn't be able to STOP my shaking hand as it pressed the blade to my skin. I was afraid, because for the first time since I was seventeen I didn't think I had the strength within me to stop myself.

And the sad truth about all of this is: I'm not alone in the struggle.

Every day thousands of people are plagued by their demons. Putting on a facade of happiness and pretending that everything is okay, because who would want to hear the truth? Who would want to actually sit and LISTEN. Not to tell you that it's all in your mind (because logically, we KNOW that) or that you just need to get over it and quit being a drama queen.

If it was so easy to 'get over', then why do 105 people die of suicide a day. In ONE day, 105 lives are lost, because they couldn't 'get over it'. I was one of those people. Eleven years ago, I succeeded in killing myself, and I was brought back. I had thought (and still do when my mind is my own and not immersed in the darkness) that there's a reason for that. That maybe I DO have a reason for existence.

But that's not always the case.

For those of you who have been touched by grace to never go through depression or anxiety or any other psychological issue, allow me to tell you what it's like. To SHOW you through my words, my pain, and my experience what it's like to fight every day just to survive yourself.


It's all-consuming, but it doesn't start out that way.When you're mind is free, its like a high. You feel energetic, optimistic. When you smile it isn't forced, because its real. For ONCE you don't have to fake happiness, you exude it and everyone around you is cascaded in your light. Because you don't just want that light, you want to share it.You want to share with the world your joy, to encourage and inspire people. To lead them to their own happiness, their own hope, and to give them strength when you don't know how long yours will last.
Then one thing happens, or a combination of things.It doesn't have to be something drastic like losing your job or having a family member die. It can be something simple. Something mundane that your mind takes control of and you begin to feel yourself fading into the black. And the fun part of all of it is that the slight doesn't even have to be REAL. It can be a miscommunication, seemingly harmless. But then your mind takes over, and the doubts set in.
So you sit there, your smile fading from the purity that it was, but you still force one.You force your smile as your heart begins to sink and the doubts creep in. Sometimes we can work through them, can rise above the beginning thoughts and move on. But sometimes, sometimes there is no escape.
You're useless.Pathetic.Why are you even alive? You don't deserve to live.The kids would be better off without you. You know you're worthless and that you'll only fail them.You cause everyone misery. It would be better just to end it all.Why do you TRY? You can't do it. You can't do anything.
Those are just examples of the thoughts that my mind becomes plagued with when I can't overcome the beginning. Sometimes its a slow build up, each thought and self doubt slowly working its way into your system.
But sometimes, like this weekend and seventeen years ago, its an onslaught. There's no build up, no prelude to any of it. Your mind hits you with it, and it blocks out all other things.So you shut down. You can't even force a smile, and everything that used to bring you joy becomes meaningless. YOU become meaningless as your own mind and the darkness that you live side-by-side with every day tears into your soul, destroying everything within you until you become a shell of the person you were mere moments, days, or weeks ago.
There's no escape. That's what people don't realize.
You can't just snap yourself out of the thoughts. Laugh them off and say 'yeah right, I'm awesome' because you don't FEEL it.
You become your own enemy, and there's no one on EARTH who could hurt you as much as your own mind does. No one in the universe who could ever say or do anything as cruel to you as your own mind does to itself.
So you break. You fall apart even while you're trying so hard to keep yourself together. To hold the pieces long enough to get through it, so you can somehow salvage what's left of you. Sometimes, you hold out. You fight your own mind long enough that it slowly releases you from its cruel embrace. Sometimes, a light shines through the darkness, and like a life-line you cling to that single flair of brilliance, hoping against everything within you that's hurting you, damaging you that it will be enough.
Sometimes, it works.Sometimes, it doesn't.
You fight, and you fight and you fight.Every day, every hour, every minute that your mind takes control you fight until you can't fight anymore. But then, you find something that gives you just enough strength to fight some more.
That has happened to me for the past 11 years.Somehow, I have found the strength to keep fighting, to keep BELIEVING that things will be better even when I didn't see it. When I didn't have a light against the darkness, there was always something deep within me that refused to quit.
This past weekend, I came too close to losing that fight. Too close to just giving in to the darkness and finally finding peace within it.
The edge of a blade never called so sweetly.The darkness that derives from the end never seemed so peaceful.If God has any grace left to give, may he bestow it to me now for I cannot hold out any longer.Forgive me.
That's what I wrote to my children's father as my hands shook upon the handle of the blade.That's how close I came to the end. How close I came to losing the eternal fight that I live with every moment of every day.
That's what it's like to fight for your life, from an enemy greater than you self: your mind.
Maybe God did have some grace left to spare, or maybe there was just a kernel of hope buried somewhere within me. All I know is that I'm still here. The dredges of the depression are still clinging to me with greedy claws, and I feel like I'm on the precipice of either tipping back into the darkness, or falling once again into the light.
But all I know is that I'm thankful.I'm thankful that for whatever reason I'm still here.I'm thankful I get to have another day, another moment being driven crazy by my kids.I'm thankful for having this moment, to be able to share with you my story, and to let you know that you're not alone.
Those who have embraced their darkness, I stand beside you.I stand beside you in the fight even when you feel like you're alone in the world and no one can understand. Because I do.I understand what it's like to be your own worse enemy.I understand what it's like to fall into the darkness, and lose all hope.I understand what it's like to be afraid of yourself and your own mind, and I understand what it's like to become completely void of all feeling when the aftermath arises.
So what was the purpose of me breaking through the silence and telling you my story?
The purpose is simple: to bring hope.Hope is the one thing that is the hardest to come by. I'm not going to sit here and tell you to 'get over it'. I'm not going to sit here and berate you for opening up because people 'don't need that drama in their lives'.I'm here to tell you that you are not alone. That there is NO shame in any of this. You are not broken. You are not somehow less of a person because you suffer through the fight every day.
You are powerful, and you can keep winning the fight.
For those of you who don't understand depression, maybe now you have gleamed some insight.I hope beyond hope that this has effected you to the point where you won't turn anyone away who needs you. Because if someone reaches out to you, they trust you enough to bare their darkness too. You have the ability to either send them over the brink, or pull them into the light.You're never 'too busy' to save someones life.People should never 'have too much going on' in their own lives to listen to those who cry out to you, whether you want to hear their plea or not.
CHOOSE to be the hope.Whether you're fighting alongside me and the millions of others, or if you're just on the sideline willing to lend a hand to those in need.
BE someones hope. Show kindness, and maybe one day there won't be a statistic, someone you KNOW won't be a statistic because there will be enough people lighting candles in the darkness to help pull us free from even the worst of the darkness.
With Love, Always,Your Confetti Queen.

(For more information on suicide and how you can help, please visit: http://www.save.org )

Center Ring: A Dark Circus Novel Sneak Peek

I'm so excited about my upcoming release, Center Ring: A Dark Circus Novel, that I just have to share some of it with you.

Center Ring is a dark paranormal fantasy with elements that are only suitable for those 17 years of age and older, so please no kids! I don't want to give them nightmares!

I've had a lot of fun writing this, and breaking into my even darker side. With those of you familiar with my previous works you already know I like my stories dark, so I can only imagine your shock when I show you how dark I can be!

Well, without further ado or continued babbling, here is the first two chapters of Center Ring (along with the cover and the blurb). I hope you enjoy!





BLURB:
Fear runs rampant, horror comes alive, and an ancient curse comes to light in the Dark Circus. 
As the star of the show, Candace is trapped between what she knows and what her mind demands her heart to see.She was raised knowing that when it comes to the Circus, nothing is what it seemed, but even some things were too terrifying for her to believe. 
The cards are stacked against her, and the stage is set. As time begins to run out a new show arises, one that brings evil to life.  When she steps into the Center Ring, Candace understands that she'll never be able to turn back. The only certainty she holds is that she will die, but how is what the Tarot cards refuse to show.
Thrust into solving the mystery of her impending death she knows that only The Fool would wait for someone else to save her. But when you don't know who she can trust, how can she hope to save herself?
Chapter OneHigh-pitched screaming echoed throughout the tent as ghostly forms swooped down above the crowd, terrifying the patrons who sat shivering in their seats as a chilling mist weaved its way from beneath their benches into the rafters that rose high above them. A brilliant shot of light pierced the center ring, highlighting the shadowy figure that hadn’t stood there just moments before. Men chuckled nervously as they pulled their loved ones closer. Comforting, or taking comfort in their touch none could tell. The brilliant light flashed out only to be replaced by a single spotlight, illuminating him, but not fully. His hand clasped the brim of his top hat, hiding every feature of his face except for his sinister smile. “Have you enjoyed your evening of terror?” he called out to the audience, his voice echoing around all facets of the tents without any help from a microphone. His smile broadened, sharp white teeth glistening in the dim lighting as he bowed before them, his silver hair falling carelessly over his shoulders in the sweeping, elegant gesture. “I have fed from your screams,” he said as he slowly raised, lowering the rim of his hat further over his eyes, “delighted in the increasing tempo of your heart beat. But it’s not over, not yet.”With the flick of his hand a single, illuminated tarot card appeared, glowing brighter as the lights began to fade until there was nothing but it left to cast light upon the ring. “The Fool.” Gasps erupted from the deadly silence as his voice broke out once more. The card grew steadily in size, its colors vibrant, shockingly so until everyone in the furthest reaches of the tent could see each vivid detail for themselves. “A carefree wonderer. Enthusiastic. Full of hope. Life.” With each word, the card began to flash, pulsing steadily until it began to strobe, highlighting the enraptured faces of the audience. “It speaks of traveling, as The Fool journeys with his dog among the land, letting his feet take him wherever they will. Many of you wish for such freedom.” His voice caressed the senses, ensnaring the audience further. “But at what cost?” he bellowed, drawing startled screams from the seduced gathering. “With his eyes constantly towards the heavens, will he ever see what’s before him? Will he ever hear his dog as it barks out its warning? For surely if you’re too busy looking at what you want, nothing but death awaits you.” With one final, brilliant flash the card vanished, shrouding the tent into darkness. But not just any darkness, but a complete darkness that sent the remaining senses into the depths of insanity. Candace took a steadying breath as she wrapped her hands tighter around the drapes of fabric as she looked down to where she knew the center ring to be. Breathing out slowly, she arched her back, her muscles locked as she waited for her cue. With the sound of cannon fire, all spotlights turned on, centuring on her. A small smile graced her face. It was time. Straining her chest forward, she let the movement take the remainder of her body with it. Wind whipped through her hair as she fell, the air hissing past her ears louder than the screams of the audience as soon as her feet left the steel cable that she had been balanced on. Faster and faster the circus floor sped toward her. Thirty feet. Twenty. She could barely breathe at the speed that her body was plummeting. Ten feet, five and her body jarred to a stop, the fabric straining above her. The screaming died down as soon as her fall ceased, though whimpers could still be heard from the crowd. She smiled slightly as a pink curl escaped her updo, her own smaller top hat pinned carefully and firmly into place had somehow managed to survive the downfall. Taking a much-needed breath, she arched her body, angling it until she was almost sideways to the ground before switching positions quickly and twisting herself into the fabric, her muscles pulling herself back up the distance that she had fallen to the delight of the audience. Once at the proper height, she paused before shifting her feet, pressing against one length of fabric and stretching it out, forcing her body to become horizontal to the ground. The ringmaster stood below her, grabbing the ends of the fabric where they rested upon the floor. “See how she does nothing but look up? How she see’s nothing but what she wishes life to be?” Uneasily the audience’s eyes went back and forth between her and the ringmaster as he began to slowly twirl the fabric. The slight movement below sent up repercussions to where she hung in the air, turning her slowly at first, but then faster and faster until the black of her dress and the pink of her hair bled into one another, creating a staggering display of color. “How long do you think she’ll be able to last?” He called out to the audience before twisting the fabric violently. Whimpers could be heard from the crowd, mumbling by those who didn’t have enough courage to call out to stop him. Again and again he turned her until, even after he let go, she still spun. She curled into herself, pulling the fabric around her until nothing could be seen of her. Nothing but white silk, spinning perpetually underneath the hot lights. A whoosh sounded in the ring, drawing the petrified eyes of the crowd to where the ringmaster walked, flaming torch aloft in his hands. He paused once again below the fabric, the torch swaying precariously close to the precious material. “How long do you think it would take for The Fool to realize her mistake? How long, ladies and gentleman, until she will heed the dog’s warning?” He smiled again, showing no mercy in the flashing of teeth and stretching of lips. “Let’s see, shall we?”He ignored the screams and cries of the audience as he tipped the torch to the fabric. Flame sprouted easily, eating its way up the silk almost faster than the human eye could track. An ear piercing, shattering scream cried out over the terrified sounds of the audience as the white cocoon that Candace had put herself in went up in flames, the red and orange tongues licking outward as still it spun. Ash began to fall, blanketing the air like snow. With a final whoosh, the last of the fabric was burned away, leaving nothing but tendrils of smoke in its place. Some began to cry, others still screaming as people rose to their feet, their eyes constantly searching for the girl. In the midst of their terror, a soft, joyous laugh rang out. One by one the audience stilled, listening to the sound as it got louder and louder. “There! There she is!” someone cried out, pointing to the very top of the circus tent. High above the crowd she sat, swinging joyfully from a giant leash, her pink hair streaming out behind her as she pushed her legs forward for more momentum. “Well, it looks like The Fool didn’t learn her lesson… yet.” The ringmaster stepped forward, drawing eyes away from Candace. He held his gloved hands almost pleadingly before him. “Ladies and gentlemen! I’d like to tell you another story, if I may. This will be the last of the night, and surely the best for we always save the best for last. Or would that be the worst?” Uneasy chuckles rang out from his words. He walked slowly around the ring, drawing the last of the attention away from her. As he moved, the lights dimmed until they only showcased him once again. Sighing, Candace grabbed the suspension cables above her and checked her belt to make sure that the safety wire was in place before beginning the arduous trek of climbing her way back to safety.



Chapter TwoShe kept a half ear to the ringmaster as she made her way slowly across the cable, making sure not to move too fast in case she would draw anyone’s attention. Pausing to catch her breath, she reached forward with her hand, only to clutch back to the cable as her heart beat sporadically in her chest. “No, not now.” She whispered as her pale green eyes flashed with panic. She could feel it, could feel the unsteady beating of her heart as it tried to catch up with her exertion. Her breath shuddered in her lungs, her body spasming, almost causing her to let go of the cable as the pain built in her chest. Breathing through the pain and the panic, she curled herself against the metal, not caring that the hard surface dug into her fishnet-clad thighs. A part of her knew that she was bleeding, that she was holding on too tightly and surely someone down below would notice the steady stream of blood drops that fell to the circus floor, but she didn’t care. Couldn’t care as she willed her damaged heart to keep beating, to jump back in sync and not kill her. It couldn’t stop, not yet. She blinked her eyes open as her body began to warm. But not just her body, the cable that she was gripping to with all of her might was heating beneath her fingers as well. Startled out of her panic, she frowned at the light that seemed to be coming from the other side of the tent. But there shouldn’t be any light there. They were at the end of the nights show, and no one messed up the lighting during the shows, no one. Steadily, the light got brighter, closer, as did the heat. Her grip faltered as sweat gathered on her palms, her irregular heart beat pounding furiously in her throat. She couldn’t hold on, not if she wanted to survive the heat. Biting back her own scream, she let go, letting her body go pliant as she fell, the safety cable making her belt cut into her side as it jerked her to a stop not even twenty feet below where she was dangling. Her eyes stayed glued to the top of the tent and the light that keep growing. Without even time to react a flaming ball of fire crashed through the top of the tent, whipping past her and sending her spinning as it crashed to the circus floor. The crowd screamed again, and even the ringmaster fell backwards as dirt flew up from the impact. Dust floated all around the arena, clouding it as the ball of light slowly winked itself out. Spotlights moved between the ringmaster and whatever had crashed to the floor, the attendants not knowing what to focus their attention on. The ringmaster stood, mindlessly dusting off his normally impeccable clothes as he strode cautiously forward toward the figure that was slowly rising out of the settling dust. The spotlights merged, each shining on the other until the shadows of the two men emerged, each reaching out until they blurred into one another. She watched, enraptured as the two men faced off. She couldn’t see their faces, and could barely make out discerning body parts from her spot at the top of the tent, but she knew something was wrong. How could it not be? No one, no matter how brave, would crash through the top of the tent, and they never deviated from their routines. There was no improv, no flashes of brilliance. In the Dark Circus, if you deviated, you died. Ripping her attention away from them, she crawled up her safety cord until she could grab the cable once again. Thanking her lucky stars that whoever it was didn’t break the cord on his entry she made her way quickly across, not caring if anyone saw. She needed her feet to be on solid ground, and she needed it now. “Phoenix…” She stilled at the ringmasters voice. It was flat. Dead and so cold that she wanted to lower her head in supplication. Shaking off the feeling she kept moving, gratefully getting onto the small platform attached to one of the circus poles before making her way quickly down the rope ladder, keeping her ears strained to what was going on hundreds of feet below her. “You can’t be here…” Shock filled his tone before outright anger took its place. “You. Can’t. Be. Here!”Her feet touched the earth, but she didn’t pay any attention to the overwhelming relief her body felt at that moment. Merging with the shadows, her eyes stayed trained on the two before her, spotlighted in the center ring.A black shroud seemed to be behind the man, twitching ever so slightly as he stood still before the ringmaster. Regal and powerful, his broad shoulders underneath the black expanded as he took a deep, rumbling breath.“The time of my punishment is over. You know that.”The ringmaster laughed, the sound sending a chill down her spine, freezing her in place as he fingered the leather whip attached to his belt. “You are a fool for coming here, Phoenix. I will not forgive your betrayal.” Unsnapping the clip, he let the whip uncoil before him. The mass of blackness fluttered at the sight of it as Phoenix stood straighter, preparing himself. Snakelike, the whip swayed on the ground between them, the metal tips on the end gleaming brightly in the stage lights, drawing the eyes of everyone around and entrancing them as they watched in half horror, half fascination for what was to come. Lighting fast, the silver blurred into a streak of light as the ringmaster lashed out, striking Phoenix across the chest. She held her breath as the whip found its mark, showing unmarked skin until a line of blood revealed itself, seeming out of sync with the strike entirely. Phoenix didn’t cry out as again and again the whip cut across his golden skin, spreading lines of crimson red that bled down in smooth streaks, blurring the color of his skin until you couldn’t see anything left of it besides the blood. “Fight me, damn you!” The ringmaster cried out, his voice maniacal, eerie in the otherwise silent tent.Phoenix dropped to the ground, his knees finally giving out on him as the last of his strength disappeared. “I cannot. You know I cannot fail the gods yet again.”The ringmaster stilled at Phoenix’s words. “Then you really are a fool. If you didn’t come here to stop me, then why did you come so swiftly to meet your own death?”A rumble built in Phoenix’s chest as he laughed before the sound cut off on a hiss as the blood flowed faster. “You know why.”Slowly the ringmaster turned his head, locking his eyes onto where Candace stood in the shadows. Being on ground level with him, she could see his eyes, the pure blackness that fed into his pupils were startling in any situation, but in this they were horrifying. She took a step back from him as she met his gaze. Hate. His gaze was filled with such hate that she wanted to turn on her heels and flee, but she couldn’t. The circus as her home, Vincent, the ringmaster filled with so much hate and fury before her was her home. She wrapped her arms around herself as an uncontrollable shiver coursed through her body, the feeling moving under her skin until she felt like she was going to shatter into a thousand pieces. Her knees weakened as Vincent turned away from her, a small smile firmly in place as he returned his gaze back to Phoenix.“Then you are a greater fool than even I could have imagined, as are your gods.” He spat before bringing the whip up once again. Crimson drops shone silver in the spotlights as Vincent kept up his brutal assault, bringing an eerie edge to the already darkened circus tent. The crowd waited in silence, their breaths abated as Phoenix took blow after blow, his body sinking lower to the dirt floor as each pass of the whip seemed to take the life out of him until he lay still in the middle of the center ring. Not breathing. Unmoving. Still, Vincent drew the whip back, starting to attack the shroud that spread in two large streaks down Phoenix’s back. Ebony feathers scattered out beside him, wet with his blood. Panting from exertion Vincent lowered the brim of his top hat, shadowing his eyes from the harsh lights as he lowered the bloodied whip to his side, the iron studs attached to it harmless now as it coiled on the dirt floor beside him.A smile spread slowly across his face, the muscles pulling, shadowed within the light, the single, slow act appearing sinister. Stuttering out a breath, Candace a single step forward, refusing to step fully into the light cast from the center of the ring, even though her heart was pounding inside of her chest, calling to her, screaming at her to hurry, to run. Something was wrong, deadly wrong. She knew every moment of the Circus, had lived within it since she was a child, and even though they would change and alter their ghastly entertainments, nothing ever went off without a hitch. This? This wasn’t anywhere in the script. It wasn’t rehearsed, and it wasn’t fake. The audience broke out of their stunned trances. Some women sobbed, while the men laughed feebly, seeing the truth with their own eyes yet refusing to believe that it was real. But it was real, and as the blood seeped toward her she knew to the very bottom of her soul that things would never be the same.Swallowing harshly, she forced her gaze to Vincent as she called out to him softly. “Vincent… the audience…”He met her gaze and blinked, seeming to come out of his own rage-induced trance as he slowly moved his head around, gazing into the crowd as if he just realized that they were there. Without a pause, he smiled, his entertainers mask back in place as his booming laugh echoed hollowly around the arena. With a flourish he threw the whip aside, not caring where it landed as he raised his arms to his side, his face shining once more in the light except for his eyes that were still shadowed. “Have no fear, ladies and gentlemen, for I have slain the fallen angel, denying his vengeance for blood that has sent him here!” He turned quickly, holding his hand out to the shadow where Candace waited, her body trembling in the aftermath of what she had seen. She steeled herself, willing her heart to calm as she stepped forward on her platform heels, the sound silent as she moved across the barren dirt. Forcing a smile, her hand trembled as she took his hand within hers. He gripped hers tightly, painfully. Grimacing, she forced her smile again, willing it to reach her eyes as she met the gazes of the petrified audience. “What’s going on?” She asked between clenched teeth, not even moving her lips.He twisted her to him, embracing her for a moment to whisper “It’s nothing for you to worry about, Candy”, before twisting her back out in a well-practiced dance move. Her heart beat in her throat, making it hard for her to swallow as he pulled her toward the fallen, bloody body before them. In the back of her mind she heard Vincent’s voice, grandly speaking to the audience as they stopped before Phoenix, but she couldn’t focus on his words as she stood before the prone figure. A part of her knew that the feathers were real, but another part of her just couldn’t bring herself to believe it. It had to be an act, had to be. Things weren’t what they seemed to be in the circus, but sometimes she could see the way the audience would view it, with half a mind wanting to believe it was real, while the other half kept them sane by whispering that it was just an act. All of it was an act. Keeping her smile in place she knelt beside the ‘angel’, her fingers hovering over those ebony wings glistening with blood. She gently touched his shoulder, right above where the wings seemed to protrude from his back. A warm shock scorched up her arm, slamming into her heart the moment she touched him. A shudder racked his body at her touch, his breathing becoming steadier as he slowly, painfully lifted his head. Startling clear eyes, one blue, one green, slammed into her as the single braid of black hair swept gently over his shoulder, falling almost perfectly to rest in a gentle coil on the bloody ground.             Her breath lodged in her throat, her body immobile as she locked gazes with him, her crystal-clear blue eyes captured by his harrowing gaze. He smiled weakly, his full lips pulling enough to reveal dimples. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing but blood came out.             Phantom pain lashed through her as his body began to jerk violently. Clutching at her heart, she fell beside him, her corset and tooled skirt becoming slick with his blood as lash after lash marked across her skin, the pain matching that which was inflicted upon him. Unable to stand it anymore, she opened her mouth to scream, only to become silenced as his mouth pressed against hers, hot and open, swallowing the sound. Her body arched up, the clothing making a wet noise as it lifted from the puddle of blood that was congealing beneath her.             Black began to cloud her vision as her hearing faded in and out along with the beating of her heart.
            “For the priest had fallen in love with a slave girl….” Beat. Beat. Beat. “Giving himself to her for all of eternity, he was cursed by the ancient God, Ra…” Beat. Beat. “For he had forsaken his maker, forsaken his destiny…” Beat. “And in return, he was cursed to watch her die for eons, while he lived… forever.”


Sooooo what did you think?Leave a comment to let me know if you're now as excited about this release as I am!It's publishing to all outlets on September 29th, BUT I have an added surprise for you.
Review copies are open to EVERYONE!That's right. You don't have to be a blogger, or an author, or someone in the publishing community. Review copies are open to anyone who loves to read, and who will give an honest review of Dark Circus. That's all the qualifications you need.
Interested in signing up? You can do so HEREWant to add it to your Goodreads TBR? You can do so HERE

Thank you so much for stopping by! My love and confetti to you always,Desiree

Interview with Author Rachael Brownell and review!

Interview with Author Rachael BrownellAND review of Holding On, Holding On Book OneRecently I had the utter pleasure of 'sitting' down on facebook (aka sitting in our pajama's miles away from each other with only the interwebs to connect us) with Rachael for an interactive interview discussing how her life effected her books, and vice versa along with what she has in store for us next!
About The Author Rachael Brownell is the author of both YA and NA Romance.

She is from Kalamazoo, Michigan where she still lives with her husband and son. She has a Bachelor's degree in Advertising but currently works in the hospitality industry. When Rachael is not working on her next manuscript, you might find her on the golf course. (It's a family thing) If you see her, step back. She is still learning. 

To keep up with what Rachael is doing at the moment, visit her on Facebook, follow her on Twitter or sign up for her newsletter.

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorRachae...
Twitter: @HoldingOn2013
Blog: www.authorrachaelbrownell.com

Newsletter sign up: https://docs.google.com/forms/d/1fQ4Q...


Now that we have the 'official' bio of the author out of the way, are you ready for the interview?Because here we go!Blue: RachaelPink: Your Confetti Queen



Creatives generally use their past experiences and the emotions from them in their writing. What is one emotion/past experience that you use in your work?


The basis of Holding On is off a past experience. I wrote the original draft when I was a pissed off teenager. My mom moved us to Arizona when I was in 10th grade.
Hence why Becca (the MC in Holding On) is a little bit of me...


Where did you move from?


Michigan


That's a rather big transition. How did you deal with moving to such a different environment? I've moved from California to Indiana, and it was like a whole different world.


It was different. I was so angry when we first moved that I kept to myself and then once I made a few amazing new friends, I settled down and adapted. We ended up moving back to Michigan less than a year later. There are some big differences in the culture and lifestyle, though. For instance, you can't say pop when referring to Pepsi or Coke. You have to say soda or they look at you funny.


I didn't hear the term 'soda' until I moved to Indiana, and then the whole pop or soda debacle ensued. It's good that you made friends in Arizona. Were you there long enough to make some enemies?


I'm sure I made a few but it was so long ago that I really don't remember. I haven't lived there in almost 20 years.
I'm old...

You're not THAT old.

I feel like it some days.

I definitely hear you there!
Looking back on it all, what would you tell your past self as she was going through it that you wished you would have known then?

Embrace the change. Everything happens for a reason and even though you may not recognize it right away, something amazing will come from it.

What was the 'something amazing' for you?

A number of things. I made a few lasting relationships, friends that I never would have met that have made a positive impact on my life. It was also my inspiration for the entire Holding On series, all four books, in so many ways.

Writing can be very theraputic in that way. While writing the Holding On series, did you self-discover things about yourself or your past that you never noticed before?

It was interesting to read the original draft and relive the emotions and situations that I had gone through. The original draft was more of a life story. The final draft wasn't. My life, as dramatic as I made it on paper, was not that interesting. But, to remember that time in my life, when the littlest things seemed so devastating... it made me laugh and inspired me to want to try my hand at writing again.

I love that!
Where did the majority of the anger you felt stem from? The fact of the move itself where you'd have to say goodbye to everything you knew, the sense of helplessness where you couldn't direct your own fate and had to rely on your parents, or something else?

It was mostly the fact that I was scared. We moved a ton when I was growing up until sixth grade and then it seemed like we finally settled into one place, no more switching schools. I didn't want to have to make new friends again. I didn't want to leave the friends I had.

A lot of kids these days go through the same thing, and share the same feelings as you. What is something you'd want to tell them to give them hope for their future?

I guess I would tell them not to lose hope. Your future is what you make it. Keep pushing forward because hard work is what will get them where they want to be.

(agree with that completely!)
Based on your experience with writing your story into a series, what advice would you give other authors about writing from personal experiences?

It was interesting, taking one tiny experience and turning it into a series. I created a new world, one that I could relate to but was exaggerated on. What I enjoyed most about it is the fact that the emotions behind the main character, Becca, were so real. I think it made her more relate able to readers because of that.

I'm a firm believer in giving humanity to characters. It makes them so much more relate-able. What did you discover about yourself while you were writing the series?

How much I've grown as a person. I started writing Holding On right after my son started kindergarten. To remember the person I used to be and see the person I had become was really neat. It had only been ten years or so at that point but there was a noticeable difference.

It's amazing how people change over time, and almost always for the better.
I'm a perpetual perfectionist and have to force myself to let go of my books. Are you tempted to change or improve things with the Holding On series? Or are you satisfied with it?

There are a few things that I would change but I won't let myself. I'm happy with the way it ended. It felt incomplete for so long. I published book 3 last June and I thought it was the last book in the series. It kept nagging at me and nagging at me and finally I realized why. I hadn't given closure to one of the main characters. I HAD to write his book. It came out this June, exactly one year later to the day, and now it feels complete.

That's great! And I'm glad you kept your mind open to the series until you were satisfied with it.
What's one thing you want readers to know about the Holding On series, or want them to keep in mind and be open to as they read it?

The series is progressive. It begins with the characters in high school, book 2 they're in college, book 3 is from Ethan's perspective and wraps up his relationship with Becca and book 4 is from Brad's perspective and wraps up his relationship with Becca and the series. The characters grow up through the series. Becca is young, immature and indecisive in the first book. She's your average teenage girl. You get to watch as the characters find their footing in the world and with each other.

Character growth is a must in all books.
What can we expect from you in the future and can I sweet talk you into sharing a bit of it?

The number one negative I get on reviews is that Becca is whiny. Well... she's a teenage girl. It always makes me laugh a little.

LOL I've heard the same things about one of my main characters as well.

Ah! I have a new book coming out in a few months. I haven't announced the release date yet but... Next will be released (tentatively) September 1st! I'd love to share a little bit with you.

Woot! That's awesome! I can't wait to see what you have in store!

What if one kiss could change everything? 
It did, for Reagan Brooks. Her fascination with Luke Evans went from a school-girl crush to heart-wrenching love in an instant. Then he left town, leaving a starry-eyed Reagan in his wake. No one will ever be good enough. No kiss will ever compare to his. Reagan’s standards are high. When someone doesn’t meet them, she moves on. 
“Next in line, please.” 
Moving through life with unrealistic expectations can be damaging. Letting those expectations go… It’s in that moment we find out who we are and what we really want.

I can't wait to get to read that, and thank you so much for sharing with me!
Okay love, I think that's about it for the interview. Thank you so much for your time and for opening up about your books and your past!

It's been soo much fun! Thank you. 



Want to know more about Rachael and her books? You can read Holding On for FREE on Amazon and B&N




REVIEW For five years Becca has been struggling to hide her feelings for her best friend, Brad. Now she finally has a chance to move on. She's in a new city, she's attending a new school, and she's met the first guy besides Brad who's held her attention in a long time. Not only is Ethan attractive, he's an amazing tennis player, and he might just be Becca's match on and off the courts. 

Brad has loved Becca for as long as he can remember. Now that Becca's family has moved two thousand miles away, Brad may finally be ready to lay his heart on the line and do whatever it takes to hold on to Becca. 
But is Brad too late? Or will Ethan's secret drive Becca back into Brad's arms? Torn between her love for Brad and the promise of something new and exciting with Ethan, Becca has an almost impossible choice to make, the choice between letting go or           holding on.

This book is a young adult romance, intended for readers as young as 14 years old.
FIVE STARS
Holding On was a fast, emotionally captivating read that immediately drew you into the story and kept your attention (and your heart) riveted to the page. 
Becca is an easy main character to emphasize with, along with become frustrated with, which to me marks the sign of a great character because you can't like someone ALL the time. 
Brownell spins the story with vivid clarity, while still leaving your enough room for your own creativity to take hold and flesh out your own visions.
A sweet story about life, love, and the choices you feel like you're forced to make when you'd rather not make any choices at all.
I highly recommend Holding On because it captivates your humanity, and I seriously doubt there's anyone out there who wouldn't be able to relate to Becca in some way!

STEAM by Stacey Rouke!

Cover Reveal for STEAMBy Stacey Rourke



Time passes, sins forgotten.The bodies of the victims long since rotten. 

Trapped within the essence of the Headless Horseman by the guilt of slaughtering her best friend, Ireland Crane follows the father of science fiction, HG Wells, in search of freedom from the curse that binds her. Instead, she discovers even he has a hidden agenda. A dark, relentless passion to be reunited with the woman he loves has driven him to manipulate time and a murderous Horseman. 

Yet heed my warning, as the Raven flies,
The Hessian will come … and you will die.

All that prevents Ireland from abandoning Wells’ twisted pursuit, or introducing him to her sword, are the undead witches haunting her. Begging for freedom from a vile succubus, the ghoulish coven leads Ireland and her crew on a journey through Salem’s sordid past. There, they learn there is more to Nathaniel Hawthorne’s history than a scarlet letter, and the secret they’ve uncovered seeks to destroy them all.

Add it to your TBR on Goodreads

Interested in reading the first and second book in the Legends Saga? You can find them here!Crane, Legends Saga Book OneAmazonB&N
Raven, Legends Saga Book TwoAmazonB&N
About The Author

RONE Award Winner for Best YA Paranormal Work of 2012 for Embrace, a Gryphon Series Novel
Young Adult and Teen Reader voted Author of the Year 2012Turning Pages Magazine Winner for Best YA book of 2013 & Best Teen Book of 2013 


Stacey Rourke is the author of the award winning YA Gryphon Series, the chillingly suspenseful Legends Saga, and the romantic comedy Adapted for Film. She lives in Michigan with her husband, two beautiful daughters, and two giant dogs. She loves to travel, has an unhealthy shoe addiction, and considers herself blessed to make a career out of talking to the imaginary people that live in her head. 




Visit her at rourkewrites.weebly.comdiaryofasemi-crazyauthor.blogspot.comFacebook at www.facebook.com/staceyrourkeauthoror on Twitter or instagram at Rourkewrites.

Transcending Darkness by Airicka Phoenix COVER REVEAL

Today we are revealing the cover for TRANSCENDING DARKNESS by Airicka Phoenix. This is an adult, standalone novel that will be released July 27th.Add TRANSCENDING DARKNESS to Goodreads  
TRANSCENDING DARKNESS BLURB:  
One: Sign the contract. Juliette Romero had a debt to pay, a debt that wasn’t even hers. But it was the only way to keep her family safe and all she had to do was sell her body and soul to the devil. Killian McClary wasn’t called the Scarlet Wolf for nothing. He’d been the head of the McClary Organization since he was fifteen and had built a reputation for being a ruthless son of a bitch when it came to running the city’s underbelly, not to mention merciless when it came to punishing those who betray him. He didn’t believe in weaknesses. Only results. Juliette, with her shy smiles and hot little body was a weakness unlike any other and yet he was powerless to resist one more taste of her sweet flesh.
Two: Become his for a year.When given the choice between her life or her body, what could Juliette possibly do, but submit to a man whose very name invoked fear in the hearts others? She just never anticipated falling for his dark, hungry eyes and clever hands, or the way the beast in him made her feel oddly safe and cherished. But what will happen when Killian’s dark past finally catches up to him and threatens the woman he can no longer imagine himself without? What will happen when both sides find themselves caught in a web of passion, lies and broken promises? Can Juliette tame the wolf or will her love for him devour them both?
Three: Don’t fall in love.Boundaries will be crossed, loyalties will be tested and lives will be changed forever.

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AUTHOR INFORMATION:  

BIO:
Airicka Phoenix is a romance junkie with an incurable addiction to chocolate. She is also a prolific author of several novels written for young adult and new adult romance addicts who love bad boys, hot kisses and a gritty plot. Airicka prides herself in producing quality material her readers can fall in love with again and again.When she's not hard at work bleeding words onto paper, Airicka can be found cuddling with her family, reading, watching TV shows, or just finding excuses not to do chores.Be the first for giveaways, teasers and upcoming releases by joining Airicka's newsletter on her website www.AirickaPhoenix.com AUTHOR LINKS:
Website: www.AirickaPhoenix.comNewsletter: http://eepurl.com/VgLqDFacebook: http://goo.gl/eYXrrhTwitter: http://goo.gl/yoVWYF (@AirickaPhoenix)Goodreads: http://goo.gl/HGVszfGoogle+: http://goo.gl/wgdslQ                                                   Instagram: http://goo.gl/QRmqdy                                                   Pinterest: http://goo.gl/Y5AOQq
                                              Amazon: http://goo.gl/Nq57nJ

When They Crown Comes Off

I'm known as the Confetti Queen. The simplest explanation I can for why I'm named such is because I believe in positivity and spreading love and hope to others, thus why I throw my confetti.

There comes a time though, when I have to remove my crown and become the 'not-so-nice' Desiree. These times, thankfully, are few and far between but after this morning the crown is off.
I am very, VERY protective of the authors and bloggers I work with and I adore. As a general rule I don't care what people think or say about me, but when it comes to my authors and bloggers, who to me are my family, all bets are off.
So I'm here today to tell you a little bit about etiquette, and more specifically, what to do and not to do when you are being paid to do a job for an author and/or a designer.

Now recently I decided that it would be in my best interest to hire myself a PA for both my graphic design company and for author promotions. That way, I could focus more on my work than the promoting aspects of things. It was a good idea, but unfortunately ideas sometimes just don't work out.

Over the short time that I had my PA, it was DEMANDED of me that she get paid EQUALLY to me, meaning that her spending a few minutes here and there sharing posts and the like was somehow EQUAL to me spending the hours/days/months working on a project. We had a blow out about it, and for some reason she couldn't understand WHY I was upset by the fact that she wanted to be paid 50/50 to me.

HERE'S my reasons why that didn't happen.

1) While I spent anywhere from eight hours to four days on a cover, you only spend a few minutes to hit the share button or to post it on a facebook wall.

2) While I have to pay full price for a shutterstock subscription to have the stock photos on hand to design with, you don't have to be responsible for that at all.

In the end, the amount of work that I put in vs the amount that you put in does not in any way shape or form give you the right to demand a 50/50 pay grade.

So, RULE NUMBER ONE!

DO NOT ASK FOR MORE THAN WHAT YOUR TIME IS WORTH.

Yes, you should be paid for your time, and have it worthwhile. BUT you should not demand more than the weight that you carry.

Another issue I had is this: I hired her for a specific purpose, and ended up having to do the job in which I hired her for. NOT ONLY did she not even fill out the basic requirements for what I hired her for then DEMAND that I pay her more than she was worth, but she ALSO refused to give me any of the contanct information for the authors that purchased my designs, that way I could talk with them about their covers, and also keep contact with them that way they didn't feel like I was ignoring them.

So instead of assisting me, what it boiled down to was her trying to run MY business and keeping me out of the loop of vital information. That not only put my name and reputation on the line, but ALSO jeapordized the authors who had purchased covers.

RULE NUMBER TWO!

DO NOT JEAPORDIZE YOUR EMPLOYER OR THE PEOPLE THEY WORK WITH!

I could have handled rule number one being broken. Sure, its annoying and a pain in the butt to deal with, but I would have been able to brush it off and just left it as is.

What I will NOT handle nor be in any way okay with is ANYONE jeapordizing the lovely people I work with. If you want to trash talk me or try to screw me over, fine. But DO NOT bring my authors into it. DO NOT think so highly of yourself that you think you can start trash talking me and put my authors in jeopardy without paying some form of a price for it.

Thanks to this specific PA (whom had the idocrity to inform me that she had been dropped from many previous authors for the exact same issues that I've had) I now have a huge mess to clean up, and it has left me in a state where I WILL NOT work with another PA again, nor seek assistance to further my businesses from anyone else.

I could be a huge b*tch and show you guys all the screen shots (yes I screen shot and keep everything) and blast her completely on all media fronts, but I choose to be more diligent about my reputation than she has been with hers.

I hope everyone learns from this. Before you hire ANYONE, first get to know them. Create a contract in detail that explains the role that the person you're hiring will be doing, and for the love of god research said person.

I've learned my lesson, and I'm cleaning up the mess this particular lesson has made.

So *puts back on crown*

Share the love and the confetti.

With love, Always:

Your Confetti Queen.

RAIN MURPHY RELEASE BLITZ!!!

Presented By


Excerpt included at the end of this Post!





Title: Power in the Wrong Hands Deciding Island, Book TwoAuthor: Rain MurphyPublisher: Anchor Group PublishingPublished: July 1, 2015Genre: Young Adult, FantasyBlurbRespect the Island. Snowdrop’s life changed when she found her mate, Orion Hunter. Her father always said finding your mate was like magic, but this was so much more. In the blink of an eye, Snowdrop found her life hung in the balance. Kidnapped and tortured by an evil vampire, Snowdrop was left wondering if she would live long enough to enjoy her newly found mate. Sammy was on the verge of turning rogue, and fought his evil side every day to keep it at bay. Then Sammy finds out he is the only one that can infiltrate the rogue’s hideout. He knew it would be his true challenge. He knew the mission came with the possibility of being sent to Deciding Island for judgment, a judgment that would most likely lead to being Island Ash. His only hope came from the most unlikely place, but would it be enough?Get Your Copy for $0.99 on AMAZON


 
Meet the Author

Rain Murphy was born on the west coast, and now lives on the east coast. Writing is not a job or career to her it is a passion. She is the Author of "DECIDING ISLAND SERIES" & "Saints! LOL or Are They?" Her books are geared toward adults, young and old, with the sexual passages being implied. It will appeal to lovers of fiction, fantasy, and magical happenings. Forgiveness, is book one in the Deciding Island Series. Saint Valentinus, What in the VAMP were you thinking? is book one in the Saint Series. There are minimal to no cliffhangers each book can stand alone. When Rain is not writing, reading, or promoting her two series she is spending time with her children and grandchildren. They like to camp, kayak, spent time on the beach and have fun plotting her next book.Connect with Rain on FACEBOOK/TWITTER/AMAZONSign up for Anchor Group's Newsletter and receive a free ebook!




Forgiveness & Power in the Wrong Hands




Excerpt

Hunter walked back to the glamour opening at the bottom of the Sphinx. Mystic, the leader of the Meat Eaters, waited for everyone’s report from the war as they exited. As he waited in line for his turn, Hunter heard someone yelling his name. “Hunter, wait for me, I need to talk to you.”

It was Saturesa, Sat for short, Hunter’s longtime friend. As Sat caught up with Hunter, he could hear the enthusiasm in Sat’s voice which meant trouble. Sat always had some hair brained scheme for picking up girls. “Hey, after you talk to Mystic, what do you say to coming to the Eastern Shore with me?” 

Hunter, not feeling very social these days, told Sat, “No, I’m headed home, but thanks for the invite.”
Sat, never being one to take no for an answer, told him, “Come on, Hunter. Everyone’s going to the Eastern Shore for a weeklong celebration, and there is going to be lots of girls.” Hunter gave Sat half a smile and looked down, shaking his head as he moved up one in line.

Hunter knew that once Sat set his mind to something, he would be relentless at getting what he wanted. Hunter rolled his eyes and huffed his retort with a slight rumble in his voice, “Fine, but if I don’t have a GREAT time, I’ll leave. Got it?”

Sat rubbed his hands together in anticipation of some fun, and in his cheery voice responded, “Fine! But you’ll have a blast, I promise.”

Hunter figured the only reason Sat wanted to go was the neighbor girl named Snowdrop. Hunter had never been attracted to a female Techie. He didn’t know if it was all the hair or the fact that the females were dominant, and he preferred to be the leader in a relationship. Hunter did agree that for a Techie she looked striking. Even though he had never met her in person, he had noticed her from a distance. She didn’t have that same thick hair as the other Techies and seemed to have more of her herb growing everywhere. She was also short for a female Techie. He had not been close enough to know what color her eyes were, but Sat could not stop talking about her amazing hazel eyes. Sat would joke about how he should have been nicer to Snowdrop when she had a crush on him.

Hunter handed Mystic his one page report. “Hi Mystic, my report is short because Adam’s children did all the work. It’s always amazing to watch them in action. Is it okay to head home now?”

Mystic looked up at him from her seat. “Hunter, how is life?” 

Hunter should have figured she would sense his loneliness. His kind lived so long, and without someone to share it with, the days and nights could go forever. Depression was a serious threat, but Hunter hated sympathy, so he denied it. “I’m fine.”

Mystic regarded him with concern and shook her head in disbelieve. She didn’t believe for one minute that he was truly fine, but told him, “If you need anything, let me know.”

Hunter winked at Mystic, hoping to lessen her worry. “Thanks. Catch you at the next war.” Mystic gave him a small but sweet smile as she turned her focus on the next Meat Eater in line.

Mystic Jones, as the leader of the Meat Eater species, is responsible for each and everyone one of them. She made a mental note to check up on Hunter in a few weeks. That wink he gave her was not fooling her. Sensing a strong feeling of depression, she wasn’t going to let that go for long.

As Hunter walked out of the Sphinx, he watched as Sat jumped up the minute he spotted him. Hunter felt like this was going to be a long week, and he wasn’t sure he could put up with Sat’s high level of energy. Then he heard Sat say, “Come on, we can get a ride on the war ships with the Plazies. Sap said he could drop us on the Eastern Shore.”

Hunter smiled. “I have not seen Sap or Weeping in a few hundred years.”

As they walked toward the war ships, Hunter thought about the Plazies. Sap and his wife, Weeping, are the leaders of the most unusual species, as far as Hunter was concerned. Hunter had heard that they now had a teenage daughter named Willow—he had also heard Willow was a handful. He could remember the first day he met the Plazies during one of the many wars in his lifetime. While walking next to Sat, Hunter gazed off in the distance as he remembered that day. He had walked onto one of the war ships to find no one on board, yet the ship was in operation with the precision of a well-organized team. He looked around, but stopped when he noticed a line of little sticks appearing before him, Plazies lined up on the ropes and rails. One of them started to talk, “Welcome Orion Hunter.”

Hunter remembered his feeling of shock. Although he didn’t know what part shocked him more: the stick knowing his full name or that a stick was actually speaking. He had found himself staring at thousands of sticks shaped like humans. They ranged from 5-inches to 6-inches tall and looked like all different types of wood. As a woodworker in his youth and a construction company owner in today’s world, Hunter knew his timber.

Hunter figured the look of shock showed on his face when Sap laughed and explained, “We are magic wood splinters and are what keep the old warships afloat. We are, for the most part, harmless, but we are not without ways to protect ourselves. Moving fast, it looks like we just appear and disappear, and this speed allows us to operate different areas of the ship quickly. We come from all different woods, hence the reason we all look different.”

Being brought out of his thoughts by Sat’s voice, Hunter heard, “Hunter, they’re waiting for us. Let’s go.” Hunter felt the muscle in his shoulders tighten at Sat’s enthusiastic tone. He really was not in a party mood, and until now didn’t realize he had lagged behind.

As they boarded the warships, Hunter saw Sap and walked up to him to say hi when he noticed something was wrong. “Sap, what has happened? Is everyone okay?”

Sap turned and smiled, greeting his friend. “Hello Hunter. It’s been a long time, and yes, things will be fine.”

Hunter curious asked, “Then why are the three of you so anxious?”

Sap introduced his daughter. “Hunter, this is Willow, my daughter, and she faces a task that has her worried.”

Hunter put his pinkie finger down to shake hands and told Willow, “Willow, if I can help, you need only ask.”

Willow looked worried as she said, “Not unless you can undo my teenage misbehaving and what I thought to be harmless pranks.”

Hunter looked at her with concern. “I hear an apology is owed. Am I correct?”

 Willow, in tears now, turned as she noticed the warships headed out of the delta and to the open seas. “Hunter, it is more than just an apology. I was awful to Creature, and I thought they were just harmless jokes … but a good man may die because of me.”

 Hunter thought a minute. “Wait, could you be talking about Creature Notte?” Willow looked up with a bit of hope that maybe he could help. “Yes, do you know her?”

 Hunter smiled. “As a matter of fact, I have worked with Creature off and on for a few hundred years. If there is one thing she is, it’s understanding. I think if you just come clean and be sincere, she will see her way to forgive you. Now, what is this about a man dying?”

 Willow, still not fully convinced everything would be okay, sniffled, “That is the whole problem, I have to take Creature on a quest to become one with Deciding Island, and if I fail and she does not go … then Mica Sands will die.”

 Hunter asked, “Mica Sands. He’s an Infin right? But what does he have to do with Creature?”

 Willow was still crying, and trying to talk. “They are in love. They are mates, and now they could lose each other because of me.” 

Hunter looked over at Sap for more clarity. Sap explained, “Mica was horribly wounded, and if Creature does not become one with Deciding Island, he will die. The only way to save him is if the Island does it … and because of Willow’s behavior, Gaia the Island’s spirit has said that is it up to Willow to take Creature on this quest into the Black Heart forest.”

 Willow cried out, “She is punishing me.”

 Sap walked over and put his arm around his daughter. “She is not punishing you; she is teaching you. Now go with your mother.”

 Hunter, Sat, and Sap watched as the two disappeared, then Sap spoke, “It is nice to see you again, but I must get to my post. We will be dropping the two of you off at Eastern Shore. If I don’t see you before you leave, goodbye.”

 Hunter gave his best smile, hoping to cheer Sap a little. He could see the worry on Sap’s face. “Goodbye, Sap. See you at the next war.”

 The rest of the trip Sat and Hunter watched the ocean go by, and, from time to time, would notice dolphins and whales playing in the ship’s wake.

After reaching land at Eastern Shore, Hunter and Sat turned to wave at the Plazies. Hunter watched the old warship head back out to sea. It was so surreal in its beauty, yet it demanded the respect of an ancient warrior. Sat looked over at Hunter. “Hey, what is up with you lately? You’re always dazing off ... Oh no … you’re not getting depressed are you?” Sat was now worried about his friend. Hunter looked at Sat and thought, Great, now I have to put up with his enthusiasm and pity, what a week this is going to be.

 Hunter thought about it and decided that maybe he was a little more depressed than he was letting himself realize. “Hunter, look at me and tell me that you’re not getting depressed.”

Hunter looked at his friend. “I wish I could, but I’m thinking that maybe I am getting just a little depressed. After all, how long can a man go without the love of a mate? And how old am I?” They didn’t really keep a close watch on time; the question was purely hypothetical. Hunter was not waiting for an answer, just making a point. Sat knew Hunter was older than he was.

Sat had been around for four hundred plus years. Sat slapped Hunter on the shoulder reassuring him, “That will be our goal then, to find you a mate, and soon.” Hunter just smiled and kept walking.