Vashti Quiroz-Vega's Blog, page 60
August 4, 2013
Happy Birthday To Me!
Hi everyone! My name is Vashti Quiroz-Vega for those visiting my blog for the first time. I’m a writer of Fantasy, Suspense and Thriller, and normally my blog is about writing, poetry and art. I feature my work and the work of others whose creativity and talent I admire. Today is different. Today is my birthday. Therefore, I am going to honor the requests of several fans who’ve asked me to please post more about me.
Now, usually I am a bit shy about talking or writing about myself. Today I will make an exception. So here it is:
10 Facts About Me
1. I sleep walk. (No, none of my writing has been done while asleep)
2. I love to travel. I’ve been to Spain, Greece, Italy, Africa, Croatia, Alaska, Jamaica, Puerto Rico and many other Caribbean Islands among other places. There are still many countries I long to visit.
Croatia
3. I have an adventurer’s spirit. I have zipped lined off a 1000 ft ledge onto a beach in Haiti, river raft in Costa Rica, did some cave tubing in Belize (saw huge bats), snorkeled in near freezing water in Alaska (I was covered from head to toe in a dry suit of course)…
Zip Lining in Haiti
4. I love to cook and bake. (I made all the hors D’oerves, cocktails and desserts for my novel “The Basement”Pre-Release Party).
The Basement Pre-Release Party
5. When I was a kid I wanted to be a superhero. When I was a teen I wanted to be a missionary and travel to exotic places to teach kids about God and how to read and write.
6. Although writing is my passion I do have a day job in the medical field. I’m a Registered Medical Sonographer. I perform Abdominal, OB/GYN and Vascular ultrasound exams.
7. I can predict how almost any movie will end by the first quarter of the movie. People have tested me on this. ;D Some of my favorite movies are the ones I couldn’t predict.
8. I had an imaginary friend as a child.
9. I’m a kid at heart. I enjoy being silly and pulling practical jokes on my friends and family.
10. I don’t tend to trust people that don’t have a sense of humor.
Well, I hope you enjoyed getting to know a little more about me.
July 31, 2013
When A Stranger Leaves An Imprint
Illustrated by Amro (deviantART)
Hello everyone! Thank you for stopping by. A couple of weeks ago I posted a story written by me called It Happened In An Elevator. My post today is a continuation of that story. If you have not read “It Happened In An Elevator” perhaps you should do so prior to reading this one. (Just click on the linked title above)
I saw her today. I was descending subway steps when I noticed a blonde standing on the platform, waiting for a train. Something about her stance and profile was familiar. I stumbled and nearly knocked over a silver-haired lady as I hurried past her. I couldn’t yell out her name because I didn’t know it.
Three feet away from her, I came to a sudden standstill. I stared at her, my brows knit so tight my head began to throb. My heart beat loudly in my ears, drowning out all sounds except the screeching halt of the train. I tried to reach out and touch her on the shoulder to make her aware of my existence. What if she doesn’t remember me? My arms felt like lead. I couldn’t lift them. It was the hotel elevator all over again.
The train doors opened. She walked in. I could follow her in and get off at the next stop if things didn’t work out. She’s not going to remember me. Uncertain, I stepped back. The train doors closed. My eyes followed her as she made her way to the large train window before me. As she reached for the handle overhead, her gaze met mine, and her eyes opened wide with recognition. She smiled and waved hello! As the train began to move, she poked out her lower lip in disappointment and waved goodbye. She remembered me! I let her slip out of my life for a second time. I had two opportunities to meet her, and I hindered both chances. Would I ever get another chance?
The trip back to my apartment was a haze of depression, regret and self-loathing. I had a million questions running through my mind. What was she doing in New York City? Did she live here? I got home and sulked for a while, and then decided to go to bed. I lay there thinking of her face, her smile… She remembered me! I fell asleep.
Maybe an hour later, raps on the door jolted me awake.
“Who is it?” I called out, half-asleep.
There was no answer. I peered through the peephole, and my heart seized up. This couldn’t be! Open the door, idiot! I inhaled sharply and obeyed my inner voice. I couldn’t believe my eyes. The fetching stranger I had met a year ago in the elevator of a fancy hotel, the same beauty I had glimpsed in the train station, now stood before me.
“Are you going to invite me in?” she asked in a sultry voice.
I opened the door wider and gestured for her to enter.
“H-h-how did you find me?” I asked, feeling foolish.
“We can talk, or we can do. What is your pleasure?” She took my breath away with her words. “Come, we’ve both been yearning for this moment for so long. Lets not waste time. We can talk later.”
I rushed to her. My chest heaved with excitement. I grabbed her, trying to control my enthusiasm. I pushed her against the wall and began to kiss her. Her lips were so soft and warm, and as our lips joined, they seem to fuse together. All the nerves in my body were firing at once. Her hands caressed my bare chest and then slid around to my back. She pulled me closer. My hands worked their way around her body, caressing every curve. She gasped and tossed her head back. I nuzzled my face against her neck and kissed her repeatedly.I could hear her soft moans of pleasure as I continued to explore her body.
She reached for my boxer-briefs and began to lower them. My male organ sprang loose as my shorts slid to the floor. She lowered her eyes and then gave me a look of approval. She removed her tank top, revealing her magnificent breasts. Without hesitation, I reached for them. I held them, caressed them, kissed them. I could have made love to them. She held my face in her hands and pushed me away gently. She looked at my manhood and licked her lips. My body tensed, feeling the pressure build up in my most manly parts. She slinked down to a squatting position. She passed her hand over it and stared with the curiosity of a child.
“You’re so vigorous,” she said and slipped my head into her mouth.
My body went slack, and my eyelids became heavy. There are no words to describe the sensations that coursed through my body at that moment. I threw my head back and closed my eyes. Noises escaped my lips I did not recognize. I lowered my eyes to watch her in action. She looked up and smiled. She gripped my rear and took me in deeper, all the while gazing into my eyes. I was mesmerized.
Ring. Ring. Ring. I sat upright in bed. The irritating alarm clock woke me up at the best part of my dream. I tossed my blanket aside. “Ah, damn!” I was a mess. When was the last time I had a wet dream? I couldn’t remember. It was that long ago. I showered and got ready for work, still feeling the regret of the night before.
At work, I was not myself. I was quiet, serious and pensive, a pestering “What if?” hanging over my head.
“Hey, Gallo, ready to go to lunch?” said Antonio.
He was quickly becoming one of the best friends I’d ever had. We met when we were both promoted a few months ago and transferred to the NYC office—me from Boston, and he from Miami. There was only one position open at the NYC branch, and we both wanted it. We fought hard at that board meeting on the 5th floor of the Madison Avenue Hotel, and we both dazzled the sharks. They couldn’t bear to part with either of us, so they hired us both. We’ve been inseparable at work ever since.
“Yeah, I could use something to eat,” I muttered.
“What’s the matter with you?”
“Nothing. Why?”
“Come on. You’ve been moping around all day.”
“I didn’t sleep well last night, that’s all.”
Antonio looked at me sideways. We had lunch at Marea on Central Park South. Great seafood. I began to feel better.
“I think it’s time,” said Antonio.
“Time for what?”
“I think it’s time I take you home for dinner.”
“Dude!” I laughed. “You’re not going to tell me you’re gay now, right?”
“No, jackass!” he laughed. “Besides, you wouldn’t be my type.”
“That hurts, dude.” We both laughed at my feigned disappointment.
“Seriously, how long have we known each other?” Antonio asked.
I shrugged. “About a year.”
“We’ve known each other for almost a year, and you’ve never even been to my place.”
“Well, we spend most of our time at work anyway.”
“True, my wife bitches about that all the time.”
“What did you call your wife?”
“Shut up!”
“I’ve never even met your wife,” I told him.
“That’s pathetic.”
“Yeah, it is.”
“Alright, that’s it. This Friday, you’re going to have dinner at my house,” Antonio insisted.
“Fine. I’ll be there.”
With that, we paid for our lunch and returned to work.
The rest of the day went by quickly. Work kept me busy, and I had very little time to think of anything else. I was grateful. At the end of the day, I was exhausted. When I got home, I showered, had dinner and tried to do some work on my laptop, but I couldn’t concentrate. Maybe I was just too tired.
Her face appeared in my mind’s eye. I don’t even know her name. It’s funny how some people come into our lives and without saying a word, leave an imprint on our hearts. Moments like these always force me to think about my life. Where is it headed? I’m very successful now. That board meeting a year ago went just as I had planned, but what of my love life? Did I miss the opportunity to meet my soul mate? There’s a reason I can’t get her out of my mind. I believe we were meant to be together. I believe I will see her again, and this time nothing will stand in my way. Not my insecurities, not my fears— nothing!
I have so much—everything I’ve ever wanted. What good are all my possessions, this great life, if I can’t share them with someone I love? Of course, I have met other women and dated a great deal, but even with a night of physical activity, I have failed to achieve the level of passion I experienced with the lovely angel on that elevator. I must find her.
I’m lonely. Can I say that, living in a city of millions? I will find her.
The next day I was at the train station where I had seen her. I was there at the same time and in the same location. I waited for hours, but the angel never showed. I went back again, and she was a no-show once more.
Thursday, Antonio decided to work through lunch. It wasn’t like him to do that, but he said he was running behind. It was a gorgeous day—bright and sunny with a pleasant, cool breeze. Central park was very crowded. There was a band playing, which explained the multitudes. I tried to make my way through the crowd to my favorite restaurant. I scanned my surroundings, and my eyes stopped on a dream. There she was, her shiny blonde hair playing in the gentle breeze, and only a massive crowd between us.
I pushed and shoved my way among the masses, determined not to allow anyone or anything to get in the way of me talking to this woman. When I was but a short distance away, she noticed me in the crowd.
I waved and yelled, “Wait right there, please! Don’t move!”
I sensed the heat rising in my face. I finally stood before her, panting, and no doubt red-faced.
“Please tell me your name,” I implored.
She tilted her head to the side, scrunching her brows slightly, observing me for a moment, and then she finally smiled. “My name is Charlise.” Her voice was soothing and mellifluous.
“My name is Ethan, Ethan Taylor” I blurted. “I know we’ve only had a brief encounter in an elevator, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that day. When I saw you at the train station a few days ago, I felt it was a sign. You remembered me. We should explore this. I want to get to know you.”
I finally stopped babbling. Charlise stared wide-eyed at me, her eyebrows arched high, her mouth hanging open. I realized I had frightened her. I took a step toward her, and she backed away with her arms in front of her.
“Please, don’t fear me. I mean you no harm. I simply don’t want to miss another opportunity to get to know you,” I told her as gently as I could in my loud surroundings. I watched her shoulders relax, and her eyes gazed sweetly at me once again.
“Do you believe in love at first sight?” she asked.
“I do now,” I responded. She smiled, and it was like receiving oxygen after nearly suffocating in a sea of fear.
A short burst of wind blew her hair to mask her face. I reached out and gently straightened the strands of hair. We looked into each other’s eyes the entire time. After removing the last strands, I caressed her face. I noticed an eyelash on her cheek. I removed it with my finger and showed it to her.
“Make a wish,” I told her. She moved closer and shut her eyes. I recognized her perfume. When she opened her eyes again, she puckered her lips to blow the lash from my finger. Her lower lip touched my finger as she blew. I felt the warmth of her breath, and I swear the tip of my finger was connected to every nerve fiber of my being. My body quivered. She grinned, and I wanted to lose control. I craved to take her home. I longed to worship the art of her bare form. I had an overwhelming desire to touch her, taste her, melt into her very soul until the two of us became one.
“Charli, we have to leave. I can’t take this place anymore. My head is killing me,” a young brunette insisted as she tugged at my angel. “Who is this?” She looked at me with reproachful eyes.
“He’s an old friend,” responded Charlise. The brunette’s mouth tightened as she looked me up and down.
“We have to leave now. I’m serious! My head’s going to blow.”
“Alright, alright,” said Charlise, and then she looked at me. “It was nice running into you again. I have to go now.” Her voice was soft, sweet and sad. She wants to stay with me.
“Lets go! God!” shouted the brunette as she pulled her away.
Charlise waved good-bye and disappeared into the crowd. At least now I know her name, and she knows mine. Charlise. What a beautiful name. It was like a melody. We are meant to be together, and I will see her again soon.
I looked at my watch. It was time for me to head back to work. I served no purpose in my office that afternoon. Erotic thoughts of my angel plagued me. I took hold of my manhood and stroked it with thoughts of her until all that was left in my wake was a load of discarded frenzy.
Friday came around. Antonio had been reminding me about our dinner date twenty times a day for the past few days. Needless to say, I was glad the day had finally arrived. At the end of the day, I told him I would make a pit stop at home to shower and dress, and then meet him at his house for dinner.
I arrived at Antonio’s house at seven o’clock. He greeted me at the door.
“Ethan, my brother, welcome to my humble abode,” he said dramatically.
We grinned at each other, and then he took me by surprise when he embraced me. In a very manly manner, of course—crushing me like a boa constrictor and patting me on the back so hard, I thought I would cough up blood.
“Dude! Take it easy!” I laughed.
“I’m sorry, Gallo, I’m just happy to see you in my house.”
“Alright, alright, let’s not get emotional.” I shook my head disapprovingly while Antonio laughed.
I sat on his couch, and he got me a drink. I was relaxed and happy to be there.
“My wife will be out in a moment. You know how women are. It doesn’t matter how much time they have to get ready. It’s like they’re allergic to being on time.”
“I’m right here,” said a female voice. I stood to greet her. “Hello it’s nice to…” her words were strangled by the look of agony on my face.
I could hardly stand. My hands were shaking. There was an awkward silence while we stared at each other. Her face wore a perturbed grimace. Finally, my eyes fell to the ground. Inside, my chest blazed a firestorm. I was lightheaded. I slumped and held on to my knees.
“What’s going on?” asked Antonio.
I looked up at his puzzled face, and then glanced at hers. Her eyes were wide imploring me to keep my silence. I regained control of myself. I took a deep breath, and stood upright.
“I’ve been feeling poorly all day,” I lied. “I believe I’m coming down with something.”
“Why didn’t you say something at work?” asked Antonio.
“I knew how much you’ve been looking forward to having me over for dinner and to meet your wife. I didn’t want to disappoint.”
Antonio shook his head. “I would have simply made a change of plans, my friend.”
“I can’t stay, Antonio. I’m sorry. I thought I could visit for a couple of hours, but I can’t. I hope I didn’t ruin dinner for you.”
“Of course not. We’ll do this again another night.”
I looked at his wife, gripped in pain. I swallowed hard. “It was nice meeting you, and I’m sorry.” It took everything I had to say those words.
“Please don’t be sorry,” said she tenderly her eyes glittering.
“You have an angel for a wife, Antonio,” I said as I watched him smile and nod.
He put his arm around her, twisting the knife already lodged deep in my heart. Inside, I winced in pain. On the outside, I mustered a weak smile and walked away, certain that my best friend would be holding my true love, my angel, in his arms tonight.
Ethan
Charlise
Antonio
July 23, 2013
Art That Captures The Imagination
Hello! Welcome to my blog. My name is Vashti Quiroz-Vega, for those of you visiting for the first time. I am a writer of Fantasy, Suspense and Thrillers. I do, however, have a tendency to mix a little Romance, horror or humor (among other genres) into my stories.
I love art, creativity and beauty, and I know these come in many forms. In my quest to build my author platform, I have met and befriended a group of incredibly talented individuals. Writers, poets, artists and even singers who are masterful at what they do. I feel blessed to have found them, and I would be selfish if I kept the beauty, artistry and creativeness of their craft all to myself.
So for the next few weeks I will be featuring their art, writings and music along with my own work on this blog. I guarantee you will enjoy every bit of it.
In today’s post I will feature a talented artist name Erin Coldrick. I came across one of Erin Coldrick’s illustrations on Google+, and I was mesmerized. Those of you who know me are aware that I love the HBO series “Game of Thrones” (okay, I’m obsessed with it). I asked Erin if I might see more of her work, and it turns out that she loves the series as much as I do (we’re kindred nerds). Her drawings are marvelous to say the least, so I was compelled to show them off here on my blog. Even if you’re not a geeky fan of the show (like I am), you can still enjoy the skill and creativeness that went into these beautiful pencil drawings.
I added a few quotes and other elements from the show for dramatic reasons (further establishing my geekiness).
Erin Coldrick has been an artist for over twenty years. She loves working with pencil, but has also experimented with color painting. She lives in rural Nova Scotia, Canada, with her handsome husband of nine years and their beautiful eight-year-old daughter. Erin has been a tattoo artist for the last thirteen years. She works out of her own shop.
Ancient Elements Tattoo
1630 Burntcoat Road
R.R.#1 Noel, NS
B0N2C0
I hope you enjoy Erin Coldrick’s stunning portrayals of characters from the fantasy series “Game of Thrones.”
WINTER IS COMING. The North remembers. There is no shelter from the storm. Fear cuts deeper than swords. …and not a soul to hear. Can a man still be brave when he is afraid? That is the only time a man can be brave. ~Game of Thrones
[image error]
Daenerys Targaryen exiled princess of the Targaryen Dynasty, Kahaleesi, a queen of the Dothraki and mother of dragons.
“I do not have a gentle heart. I will take what is mine with fire and blood.”
Arya Stark of Winterfell
Tyrion Lannister and Bronn
Tyrion: “I understand the way this game is played.”
[image error]
Sandor Clegane “The Hound”
Lord Commander Jeor Mormont
He gave up his lands to serve the Night’s Watch.
Night gathers, and now my watch begins.
It shall not end until my death.
I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children.
I shall wear no crowns and win no glory.
I SHALL LIVE AND DIE AT MY POST.
I am the watcher on the walls.
I am the fire that burns against the cold.
The light that brings the dawn.
The horn that wakes the sleepers.
The shield that guards the realms of men.
I pledge my life and honor to the Night’s Watch.
For this night and for all nights to come.
The Wall
July 18, 2013
GUEST BLOGGING to be, or not to be? That is the question.
I’d say Guest Blogging is to be, and to prove it I’d like to introduce Rebekkah Ford.
I am certain you will find her to be an interesting person as well as a talented writer. So have fun getting to know Rebekkah (Becki) Ford.
Rebekkah Ford
Rebekkah Ford grew up in a family that dealt with the paranormal. Her parents’ Charles and Geri Wilhelm were the directors of the UFO Investigator’s League in Fairfield, Ohio, back in the 1970s. They also investigated ghost hauntings and Bigfoot sightings in addition to UFO’s. Growing up in this type of environment and having the passion for writing is what drove Rebekkah at an early age to write stories dealing with the paranormal. Her fascination with the unknown is what led her to write the Beyond the Eyes trilogy.
So if you’ve gotten the impression that Rebekkah is a quirky artist you’re absolutely right. Check this out…
[image error]
Jack a.k.a. “Tree” from the “Beyond the Eyes” series.
Rebekkah (Becki) chats with Tree one of her characters from the “Beyond the Eyes Trilogy” series
Tree is one of Paige’s (main character) best friends in the, “Beyond the Eyes” trilogy. He’s eighteen-years-old, Stand six-foot five, though appears taller because he’s built like a bouncer, hence the nickname “Tree”. He has brown eyes and a bitchen black Mohawk. He’s the type of guy who would give you the shirt off his back. He’s also loyal and protective over his friends. He’s into comic book heros, guitars, punk rock, and cars. He’s a grease monkey-works for his dad who is the top mechanic in Astoria, Oregon, fixing vehicles. And he’s of German descent.
I spoke with Tree a while back, but a lot has happened since then. I decided to hook up with him again via webcam. We still had each other in our Skype account, so it was rather easy to do. In respect to the people who haven’t read this trilogy yet, and because “The Devil’s Third” won’t be out until later this year, I’ll be mindful in what to ask Tree.
Okay, I just ringed him up and he agreed to come over. Oh! There’s the doorbell. He’s here! Let’s get started.
Becki: “Hi, Tree. How are you?”
Tree: “Hey, Rebekkah. Despite the major adjustments in my life, I’m doing well. Thank you.” He shifts the black knit cap on his head and smiles. “How are you?”
Becki: “Oh, I’m crazy busy, but that seems to be the norm lately.”
Tree: (Nods.) “Tell me about it.”
Becki: “Did you shave your Mohawk off?”
Tree: (His hand flutters to his knit cap again. He touches it, then drops his hand in his lap. A frown mars his face.) “No, but your readers will find out what happened when they read The Devil’s Third.”
Becki: “You also found out some shocking info. about yourself. One could even go as far as to say, mind-blowing.”
Tree: (Laughs.) “That’s putting it mildly.”
Becki: “So do you and Carrie plan on going to school in Portland, Oregon this fall?”
Tree: “I’m not sure. I’ll have to talk to her about it. I know my folks would be disappointed if I didn’t go, and the same with Carrie’s as well.”
Becki: “How are Paige and Nathan doing?”
Tree: (Smiles.) “They’re doing awesome. I think their relationship will be smooth sailing from here on out. So many things and people kept coming between them, but I think that’s over now.”
Becki: “Good to hear. What about Brayden?”
Tree: “I haven’t seen Brayden in a while. I’m sure I’ll see him again, because he’ll never give up on the possibility of having a relationship with Paige. He believes they were meant to be together. Period.”
Becki: “What do you think about it?”
Tree: (Shrugs.) “I really don’t know what to think. The way I see it is as long as Paige is happy and the guy treats her well, I’m good with it, otherwise, I’d have to kick his ass.” He laughs.
Becki: (I laugh along with him.) “You’re a good friend.”
Tree: “Thanks. Paige is like a sister to me. She’s been alone most of her life. Her father died when she was four and as she got older, her mom stayed away from her. Carrie and I always kept an eye on Paige, though, she wasn’t quite aware of it. We also knew she had a lot of pent up emotions she needed to deal with. Thankfully, Nathan helped her confront and deal with all the hurt and sadness she had harbored inside herself for so long.”
Becki: (Grins.) “Yay! Nathan. He’s a good guy. I like him a lot. The other day I had a fan tell me Nathan scares him.” I laugh.
Tree: (He raises his eyebrows and grins, laughter dancing in his eyes.) “Are you serious?”
Becki: “Yes, I am. The person who told me that, mentioned what Nathan had done to Aosoth in Dark Spirits.” I cup my hands around my mouth and stage whisper, “The toilet scene.”
Tree: (He chuckles.) “I thought what Nathan did that bitch was classic. She deserved much more than that for destroying Paige’s family and being flat out evil. Sometimes I think she’s worse than Bael.”
Becki: “Well, Bael is evil too, but it’s a subtle, darker kind, which to me is much worse.”
Tree: “Good point. Cloaked evil is far worse.”
Becki: “Well, Tree, I suppose I should end this chat. I enjoyed visiting with you. Thank you for taking the time to talk to me.”
Tree: “No problem. The feeling is mutual. Take care.”
Becki: “You too. Tell the gang I said hi.”
Tree: (Smiles) “Will do.”
Beyond the Eyes blurbs . . .
“A thrilling, wholly satisfying first book to a new young adult series. It will keep you wanting more.” –Valentina Cano, Carabosse’s Library
“Beyond the Eyes is haunting yet passionate. This breakout novel is quick and hip, a saucy must-read.”–Charles Land, Judas Pistol
Paige knows evil exists in this world, but she never imagined it would want something from her.
After a ghostly voice whispers a haunting message to seventeen-year-old Paige Reed, Paige’s life takes a nightmarish turn. Unwilling to tell her friends about the supernatural occurrences happening in her life, Paige feels more alone than ever–until she meets Nathan Caswell.
Nathan is not only hot, but seems to peer into Paige’s soul, evoking a magnetic energy between them that cannot be denied. But he’s no ordinary guy. He tracks dark spirits, and becomes alarmed when they set their sights on Paige.
And then there are the two power-hungry dark spirits who believe Paige can find King Solomon’s magical ring for them, because when her father was alive, he was close to finding it. If Paige doesn’t comply with their demands, they’ll kill her.
Paige is forced to dig deep into her father’s past and unearths shocking secrets about him and his bloodline. With the past and present colliding, Paige is only sure about two things in her life: she needs to outwit the dark spirits to stay alive, and she’s completely and helplessly in love with Nathan.
Dark Spirits Blurb . . .
“Even more thrilling than the first. This is a captivating series you won’t put down and will leave you hungry for more.”–Felicia Tatum, author of The White Aura
“Paige is a strong courageous character and Dark Spirits will make your heart pound with the emotion and action!”–Julie Huss author of the I Am Just Junco series.
Now immortal, Paige is emotionally and physically stronger than ever. She must find the location of the ancient incantations to prevent mass genocide. But the war against good and evil is spawning another war–a battle between the dark spirits themselves. Paige is saddled in the center of both growing revolutions and is ready to take on the dark forces. But Nathan’s overprotectiveness prevents her from taking action, and he’s hiding things.
Paige’s personal life gets more complicated when Brayden arrives back in town and offers the equal partnership she desperately craves from Nathan. Then there’s Carrie and Tree, her two best friends and only family she has left. Unfortunate circumstances thrust them into Paige’s dark world, giving her no choice but to allow Nathan to arm them with combat techniques in hope they’ll be able to protect themselves.
Meanwhile, Paige is having visions and discovering abilities she was unaware of. When Anwar comes to visit, his weird behavior alarms her. Could he be turning to the dark side?
Time is running out. Paige not only needs to find the incantations but also to untangle the bands around her heart and make a decision that could leave her with a life worse than death–a life of betrayal from the ones she trusted most.
Where to find Rebekkah:
Blog
http://themusingwriter.blogspot.com
Facebook Author Page
http://www.Facebook.com/RebekkahFord2012
Twitter
https://twitter.com/RebekkahFord
Pinterest
http://pinterest.com/rebekkahford
Buy the books
Amazon:
Beyond the Eyes (Book One in this YA paranormal trilogy)
http://www.amazon.com/Beyond-the-Eyes-ebook/dp/B0088JF7HQ/
Dark Spirits (Book Two in this YA paranormal trilogy)
http://www.amazon.com/Dark-Spirits-Beyond-Eyes-ebook/dp/B00BEKJ9VG/
Note: These are the American Amazon sites. If you want the UK, let me know.
Barnes & Noble:
Beyond the Eyes
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/beyond-the-eyes-rebekkah-ford/1111446053?ean=2940014746496
Dark Spirits
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/dark-spirits-rebekkah-ford/1114506937?ean=2940016397214
Beyond The Eyes Book Trailer:
July 16, 2013
It Happened In An Elevator
It Happened In An Elevator
I was staying on the 10th floor of a ritzy Madison Avenue hotel in New York City. I was due in the conference room, where my presentation at a board meeting would shape my career. As I pushed the fifth floor button in the elevator commanding it to transport me to this engagement, I was entirely unaware my life would be changed forever: that a stranger would steal my heart. All of this before I had even reached my destination. Who knew so many emotions could blossom in a 4 by 7 ft. suspended box?
She entered my life on the ninth floor, hauling a suitcase on wheels. As her long, shapely legs crossed the threshold, her smile caught my breath. There was something in her glance that made my heart beat faster. A mermaid’s alluring voice said, “Ground floor, please.” She might as well have sung a lullaby. My knees faltered. What is happening to me? This is not the first beauty I’ve seen. I inhaled, remembering to breathe, and absently pressed the button, obeying her command. I looked at my briefcase and reminded myself of the importance of my session on the fifth floor. My successful performance in this meeting would mean a promotion, a raise—all the things I had been focused on achieving. From the corner of my eye, I caught her checking me out. When I turned, she snapped her head forward and played with her hair. Does she feel it too? I swear the temperature in the small space went up a degree or two as I watched her lick her lips. The intense chemistry filled the chamber—primal, and thick enough to snuff out the air.
The elevator stopped. Talk to her! You may never get another chance. I wrestled with my id. A woman with a haggard face entered the elevator with her brood. Kids played and ran circles in the tight space, while their mother yelled at them to stop. A little boy pushed the beauty, knocking her into me. Prickly sensations coursed throughout my body. I reached out to steady her. As I touched her arm, my eyes narrowed. My pulse raced. I was on fire. Through a cacophony of shrieks and shouts I heard her say, “I’m sorry,” as she moved away a proper distance and tidied her formfitting skirt. How I envied her clothes!
The elevator stopped again. Momma and her chickadees scrambled out of the cubicle. The little boy who had shoved the fetching stranger looked over his shoulder and grinned at me, as if he knew I wanted to thank him vigorously. A few more floors, and she would leave my presence forever. As the doors closed before us, she glanced my way and giggled as she shook her head. “Kids,” I said. She nodded and lowered her eyes shyly. She gathered her long tresses to one side, exposing her neck. She feels it too.
Once more, the elevator came to a standstill. This was the fifth floor, my floor. I clenched my jaw as I stared at my briefcase. The meeting can wait. I turned to look at her. She questioned me with her eyes, no doubt reminded that the fifth floor button was glowing when she first entered the elevator. She glanced at my briefcase and then at me again. Slowly the corners of her lips curved upwards. I imagined what they would taste like. Her face told me she knew I had to be somewhere else, but chose to ride with her instead. The doors opened, and I lost her gaze. Frustration began to set in as a woman invaded our sanctuary, her hair twisted in a severe bun. Although it was lit, the woman jabbed at the ground floor button. My body went slack. The last few floors would be spent with this intruder.
I turned my face and looked at the angel. I tried to muster the courage to speak to her. At least ask for her name. The rejection and maltreatment from beauties past rooted my being in fear and fixed my feet where they stood. Even my voice box was gripped firmly shut so as to prevent me from uttering words. Her lovely blonde hair glittered in the dim man-made radiance. I contemplated the smooth curves of her face. The silky texture of her sun kissed skin beckoned my touch.
Ding. The elevator doors slid open. More people plagued us by entering our world, but I forgave them since the alluring stranger moved closer to me to make way for the crowd. My chest heaved in rhythm with my rapid breathing. Her fragrance drifted into my nostrils, rendering me helpless. Her hips lightly brushed across my manhood, making it come to life. My body quivered. Making room for her luggage, she stood so close. She slowly turned her face toward me. We stared at each other. Speak to her! I could feel the warmth of her breath. I watched her full, rosy lips move to form words. My entire body tensed in anticipation. “This is my floor,” she said.
She might as well have stabbed me in the chest. The hoisting platform came to a halt, and my heart skipped a beat. The doors opened. One crowd departed the elevator while another multitude rushed to enter. She wove her way through the mob, slowed by her luggage. The fear that gripped my body finally released me, and I stepped forward to claim my destiny.
A hand touched my shoulder. “Ethan, I hope you’re ready for this meeting. Those guys are sharks!” It was my boss, grinning and patting me on the back. I tried to focus on what he was saying, but my eyes kept roaming back to the captivating splendor crossing the threshold.
I gripped the handle of my briefcase tightly. “Yes sir, I am ready.” I stepped back to stand next to him and fixed my eyes on the ground. My heart turned to lead, the weight of it dragging me down. I lifted my eyes and watched her amble away. I had never longed for anything as much. Before stepping out of my life she turned and with her eyes, she kissed me goodbye.
~ Vashti Quiroz-Vega
July 14, 2013
The Big Reveal
The illustration above is my concept brought to life by the very talented artist George Miltiadis. If you’d like to know more about the artist, and see more of his work click on this link : http://www.cgmythology.com or contact him at cgaddict@live.com
The inspiration for the concept of the illustration came from one of my favorite quotes. “The unread story is not a story; it is little black marks on wood pulp. The reader, reading it, makes it live: a live thing, a story.” ~ Ursula K. Le Guin
I’m going to use this masterpiece as the new cover image for my Author Fan Page, but I wanted to reveal it here first. Tomorrow (Monday 07/15/13) marks three weeks since I started my author page, and already I have over a thousand “Likes”. I am really grateful to all my fans and followers.
As many of you know, my first novel “The Basement” will be released August 20th, 2013.
The next two illustrations are George Miltiadis’ rendition of my character Natasha from my book “The Basement“.
Natasha ventured out of her home in the middle of the night to rescue her friend Robbie from the basement.
What monsters lurk in your world?
What will you do when you can no longer see?
The Basement is a tale of angst, teamwork and solutions, of treasure hunts and adventure, and of facing your fears. It is a focus on the small- but everything- world of one group of pre-teens and the very real and wondrous world they face.
I invite you to visit The Basement Fan Page and my new Author Page.
July 11, 2013
The Evolution of a Novel
Hello! Welcome to my blog. My name is Vashti Quiroz-Vega, for those of you visiting for the first time. I am a writer of Fantasy, Suspense and Thrillers. I do, however, have a tendency to mix a little Romance, horror or humor (among other genres) into my stories.
I love art, creativity and beauty, and I know these come in many forms. In my quest to build my author platform, I have met and befriended a group of incredibly talented individuals. Writers, poets, artists and even singers who are masterful at what they do. I feel blessed to have found them, and I would be selfish if I kept the beauty, artistry and creativeness of their craft all to myself.
So for the next few weeks I will be featuring their art, writings and music along with my own work on this blog. I guarantee you will enjoy every bit of it.
In today’s post I will feature the witty, creative and talented writer Chris Andrews.
The evolution of a novel
Hi Vashti! Thanks for having me over.
I’d like to share my novel’s story with you today… not the story within the novel, but the story of how it came to be.
So… A long time ago on a continent far, far away (from other continents at least), I saw a movie called Star Wars and dreamed of growing up to be Luke Skywalker.
Although the force wasn’t with me, I did retain a love of epic heroes.
Fast forward a few years and I began writing a horrible, clichéd thing derivative of every heroic story I’d ever seen and read.
Recognising it for what it was, I went to university, got qualifications, and began rewriting it, but no matter what I tried the story just wouldn’t come together in a satisfying way.
It got reworked, broken up, changed, added to and rewritten again, but nothing seemed to work. Readers didn’t react the way they should have (you know, with enthusiasm!).
I thought I knew a lot about writing, but writing and storytelling aren’t the same thing, and for a long time I didn’t understand that.
So what changed?
I found that readers have certain expectations, and if you don’t meet them you’re likely to fail.
Screenwriters figured that out long time ago, and screenwriting knowledge translates well to novels.
For example, an earlier draft began with: Princess Caroline rode along in bored silence, shivering against the cold… and continued on like that for several more chapters as I slowly built the situation.
I thought I was setting the story up. What I was really doing was boring people.
Now it begins with: Princess Caroline duFandelyon stared in numb horror at the luminous outlines on the insides of her wrists. She lay on her hard bed, bare arms above her, appalled. She’d come to the abbey to birth an illegitimate child under the pretext of piety, and now the Goddess of Healing had marked her for her temerity.
While some of it breaks one of the first rules of storytelling (show, don’t tell), I did it for a reason.
In three sentences I’ve:
• Set the scene.
• Introduced internal conflict.
• Defined the genre.
• Introduced the main character in very real and personal terms.
In an earlier attempt to fix things I mistakenly cut the story in half.
It was long (over 220,000 words), and so I attempted to shorten it into something more vibrant and manageable.
Halving it introduced a whole new range of problems; what began as a stopover on a quest to retrieve a sword had to finalise a story.
It needed a new purpose, and so it evolved into the story of a girl being hunted by assassins.
It also had to lay the groundwork for the sequels.
And there’s another problem – when do you say ‘it’s done’?
I figured it would only be done when someone read it and asked, “Can I read the next one?”
That happened a few months ago, and I’ve had more positive feedback since.
Do I regret spending so many years figuring out how to tell stories? Not at all. The entire story will be far stronger for it, and so is my writing and my knowledge of storytelling.
With a bit of luck, more than just my beta readers will love it too. In the end, getting someone to love it as much as you do is what it’s all about.
Thinking back, that’s why I wanted to grow up to be Luke Skywalker, after all.
I began my writing career when I boldly and ignorantly announced I could write a better novel than the one I’d just read. While I’m no longer ignorant about the challenges of writing novels, the dream remains.
You can connect with Chris on twitter: http://twitter.com/ChrisAndrewsAU or visit his website: http://fandelyon.com
July 8, 2013
If You Love Me…
Hello! Welcome to my blog. My name is Vashti Quiroz-Vega, for those of you visiting for the first time. I am a writer of Fantasy, Suspense and Thrillers. I do, however, have a tendency to mix a little Romance, horror or humor (among other genres) into my stories.
I love art, creativity and beauty, and I know these come in many forms. In my quest to build my author platform, I have met and befriended a group of incredibly talented individuals. Writers, poets, artists and even singers who are masterful at what they do. I feel blessed to have found them, and I would be selfish if I kept the beauty, artistry and creativeness of their craft all to myself.
So for the next few weeks I will be featuring their art, writings and music along with my own work on this blog. I guarantee you will enjoy every bit of it.
In today’s post I feature a poem by gifted poet and writer Marta Merajver-Kurlat.
IF YOU LOVE ME…
If you love me, do not clip my wings. Let me soar high up in the sky of my youth before the twilight dims the sun. Fear not for me. You carried me inside you. Now your sweet voice, a shield against venom-dipped spears, dwells in me.
If you love me, do not lock me in the golden cage of easy comfort. Let me fight my own battles with the weapons you taught me to wield. I cannot promise victory after victory, yet defeat will not take me to my knees.
If you love me, do not ask me to become your double. Do not wish me to succeed where you failed. Celebrate my choices and accept our difference. Take pride in my otherness, for it grew from your lessons and example.
If you love me, do not fret that I will walk the path alone. My eyes are sharp and my steps well guided. Think that on the train of life I will find fellow-travelers. Some will keep me company till they reach their destination; others will sit by me to the end of the way.
If you love me, do not weep when the door closes. Rejoice in my strength, for you spent long years building it. Rivers flow. You were a river once. When you conceived me in your desire for a child, a miracle of nature turned you into a mountain.
River and mountain feed on each other. Trust the bond between them.
Love me.
~ Marta Merajver-Kurlat
Visit Marta Merajver-Kurlat at the links below to enjoy more of her work.
http://www.martamerajver.com.ar/marta/
http://www.amazon.com/Marta-Merajver-Kurlat/e/B009TC8C5A
http://www.linkedin.com/profile/view?id=7160675&trk=nav_responsive_tab_profile
July 3, 2013
Super Sweet Blogging Award
Jo Robinson has presented me with the Super Sweet Blogging Award. I thankfully accept the Sweetness! Jo Robinson is a talented and respected writer, and I feel honored to have been awarded by her. I also enjoy her blog and recommend that everyone stop by and check it out. Jo Robinson’s Blog
The Rules:
Thank the Super Sweet Blogger that awarded you.
Answer five Super Sweet questions.
Include the Super Sweet Blogging Award image in your blog post.
Nominate a baker’s dozen (13) other bloggers.
Notify your nominees on their blog.
The Five Super Sweet Questions:
1. Cookies or Cake? Cake. I love French vanilla buttercream icing and marshmallow fondant.
2. Favorite Sweet Treat? Chocolate covered strawberries and red velvet cupcakes.
3. Sweet Nick Name? Titi. It’s what my nieces and nephews call me.
4. What is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for you? There are so many, by so many wonderful people I couldn’t say.
5. What is your sweetest memory? My sweetest memory is of my niece Vanessa when she was almost a year old. We were involved in a fender bender, and terrified that she could be hurt I carried her, and began to weep. She looked at me with this look of compassion and sweetness (yes, compassion) and placed her little hand on my face and smiled. It was like a miracle for a baby to behave this way. Her gesture completely calmed me because I knew she was okay.
Now the best part of receiving this award. Announcing my nominees. Truthfully, I have loads of dulcet blogging friends I’d love to add, but thirteen is the magic number on this one, so here goes.
My Nominated Sweeties (and these guys are Sweethearts indeed) Are:
June 28, 2013
Distorted Social Perception – It’s Only Me
Khal Drogo ( Game of Thrones ) Illustrated by Katerina-Art (deviantArt)
Hello! Welcome to my blog. My name is Vashti Quiroz-Vega, for those of you visiting for the first time. I am a writer of Fantasy, Suspense and Thrillers. I do, however, have a tendency to mix a little Romance, Horror or Humor (among other genres) into my stories.
I love art, creativity and beauty, and I know these come in many forms. In my quest to build my author platform, I have met and befriended a group of incredibly talented individuals. Writers, poets, artists, and musicians who are masterful at what they do. I feel blessed to have found them, and I would be selfish if I kept the beauty, artistry and creativeness of their craft all to myself.
So for the next few weeks I will be featuring their art, writings and music along with my own work on this blog. I guarantee you will enjoy every bit of it.
This week I will continue my features, and introduce the very talented poet and writer Rohit Chaudhury.
Rohit has written two powerful, passionate and deeply-felt poems, which I’m sure everyone will enjoy. There is beauty in honesty and his words are that and more.
The Love Story of Khal Drogo and Daenerys
Drogo was a powerful Dothraki Kahl and Daenerys a beautiful princess. Their union was an arrangement by Daenerys’ brother who hoped to use Drogo’s horde to win back the Iron Throne for himself. Daenerys did not want to marry Drogo, but her brother forced her to do so. Daenerys knew nothing about this exotic looking man, but her perception of Drogo was that he was a brutal savage who would hurt her and mistreat her. She was wrong.
Khal Drogo Illustrated by Yellowtwist (deviantArt)
Me
Why do you flee in my sight,
is it fear or is it my might.
Is it because I have seen pain,
to fulfill my foolish gains.
Is it because,
I watch you with cruelty.
With truth in my heart,
I curse quite fluently.
Is this the price,
to live genuinely.
A mask free life,
you all need so poorly.
You see me,
with your crooked sight.
You scorn me,
with your pretentious life.
I don’t care,
if it’s not justified.
Because this is the way,
one should live his life.
I know it’s unwise,
to live a life un-prioritized.
But I wish to die,
living my destined life.
~ Rohit Chaudhury
********************************************************
When the Sun Rises in the West – Illustrated by Linda Ansone
Thank You
The sparkle in your eyes,
makes me wonder,
am I worthy of you?
My life was freed,
from certain sadness,
by the touch of your livelihood.
Not a movement ceases to be beautiful,
as my heart has finally sung,
was my life just waiting for you?
You are my miracle,
and you are my angel,
my love, thank you.
~ Rohit Chaudhury
Daenerys and Drogo – Digital art by Liliah (deviantArt)
Please visit Rohit Chaudhury’s Blog to read more of his fascinating poems.
“It is the function of art to renew our perception. What we are familiar with we cease to see.
The writer shakes up the familiar scene, an, as if by magic, we see a new meaning in it.
~ Anais Nin
“It hurts when you try to do what’s right, and all they see in you is wrong.
~ Unknown
“I’m not interested in trying to work on people’s perceptions. I am who I am, and if you don’t take the time to learn about that, then your perception is going to be your problem.”
~ Jim Brown
VIDEO FOR MATURE AUDIENCES ONLY!!!
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