Kory M. Shrum's Blog, page 4

Read a poem Friday: Louise Erdrich #poetry #fridayreads

Turtle Mountain Reservation
Related Poem Content DetailsBY LOUISE ERDRICHFor Pat Gourneau, my grandfatherThe heron makes a cross flying low over the marsh. Its heart is an old compass pointing off in four directions. It drags the world along, the world it becomes. 
My face surfaces in the green beveled glass above the washstand. My handprint in thick black powder on the bedroom shade. Home I could drink like thin fire that gathers like lead in my veins, heart’s armor, the coffee stains. 
In the dust of the double hollyhock, Theresa, one frail flame eating wind. One slim candle that snaps in the dry grass. Ascending tall ladders that walk to the edge of dusk. Riding a blue cricket through the tumult of the falling dawn. 
At dusk the gray owl walks the length of the roof, sharpening its talons on the shingles. Grandpa leans back between spoonfuls of canned soup and repeats to himself a word that belongs to a world no one else can remember. 
The day has not come when from sloughs, the great salamander lumbers through snow, salt, and fire to be with him, throws the hatchet of its head through the door of the three-room house and eats the blue roses that are peeling off the walls. 
Uncle Ray, drunk for three days behind the jagged window of a new government box, drapes himself in fallen curtains, and dreams that the odd beast seen near Cannonball, North Dakota, crouches moaning at the door to his body. The latch is the small hook and eye. 
of religion. Twenty nuns fall through clouds to park their butts on the metal hasp. Surely that would be considered miraculous almost anyplace, 
but here in the Turtle Mountains it is no more than common fact. Raymond wakes, but he can’t shrug them off. He is looking up dark tunnels of their sleeves, and into their frozen armpits, or is it heaven? He counts the points of their hairs like stars. 
One by one they blink out, and Theresa comes forth clothed in the lovely hair she has been washing all day. She smells like a hayfield, drifting pollen of birch trees. Her hair steals across her shoulders like a postcard sunset. 
All the boys tonight, goaded from below, will approach her in The Blazer, The Tomahawk, The White Roach Bar where everyone gets up to cut the rug, wagging everything they got, as the one bass drum of The Holy Greaseballs lights a depth charge through the smoke. 
Grandpa leans closer to the bingo. The small fortune his heart pumps for is hidden in the stained, dancing numbers. The Ping-Pong balls rise through colored lights, brief as sparrows God is in the sleight of the woman’s hand. 
He walks from Saint Ann’s, limp and crazy as the loon that calls its children across the lake in its broke, knowing laughter. Hitchhiking home from the Mission, if he sings, it is a loud, rasping wail that saws through the spine of Ira Comes Last, at the wheel. 
Drawn up through the neck ropes, drawn out of his stomach by the spirit of the stones that line the road and speak to him only in their old agreement. Ira knows the old man is nuts. Lets him out at the road that leads up over stars and the skulls of white cranes. 
And through the soft explosions of cattail and the scattering of seeds on still water, walks Grandpa, all the time that there is in his hands that have grown to be the twisted doubles of the burrows of mole and badger, that have come to be the absence of birds in a nest. Hands of earth, of this clay I’m also made from.

#ThrillerThursday: Death at First Sight #ThriftyThursday

Hold onto your butts! (So sayeth Samuel Jackson in Jurassic Park). Because here is a brand new book by the fabulous Angela Roquet.


This is the second book in the Spero Heights series. If you want to know more about Book 1, Blood Moon, click here). 
In Book 2, Death at First Sight, Lia James would give anything to be normal. Struck with horrific, daily visions of death isn’t what any sane person would consider gifted. Her only consolation is that Sheriff Saunders, her shady keeper, does what he can to change the outcome of her visions—at least, the ones that might lead to a swanky promotion. 

Christian Delph is not a normal doctor, and his patients’ maladies are not found in the average medical journal. As the head therapist of Orpheus House in Spero Heights, he sees everything—and usually before it happens. The one thing he didn’t see coming was Lia, and all the ways she would turn his fragile world inside out.

Kory's Review
I always enjoy Angela Roquet's books, so no surprise that I enjoyed the latest installment of this urban fantasy series. But there are several aspects in particular that I think were well done here. #1 The tension between Lia and her captor were especially well-drawn. The reader gets a clear sense of her emotional entanglement with this person and right away, we begin rooting for her escape.
#2 1 also love the town dynamic. For fans of Charlaine Harris' Midnight Crossroads series, they will find something similar in Spero Heights. Secrets, the supernatural, and a community that you wish you were part of. Personally, I enjoyed the Spero Heights novels more than the Harris novels. The pacing was better and the characters more intriguing. 
#3 I like the interconnected nature of the books. People we saw in the first book reappear and we get to learn what became of them after the adventures in Blood Moon. I hope the books continue to be interconnected, giving me a greater view of the mythology and history between these interesting people.
It's free for Kindle Unlimited users and $0.99 for the rest of us. Get your copy here.

#Fridayreads: September: A Poem by Joanne Kyger #poetry

SeptemberRelated Poem Content DetailsBY JOANNE KYGER
              The grasses are light brown              and the ocean comes in              long shimmering lines              under the fleet from last night              which dozes now in the early morning
Here and there horses graze              on somebody’s acreage
                               Strangely, it was not my desire
that bade me speak in church to be released         but memory of the way it used to be incareless and exotic play 
               when characters were promises      then recognitions.  The world of transformationis real and not real but trusting.
                            Enough of these lessons?  I meandidactic phrases to take you in and out oflove’s mysterious bonds?
                      Well I myself am not myself
           and which power of survival I speakfor is not made of houses.
          It is inner luxury, of golden figuresthat breathe like mountains do            and whose skin is made dusky by stars.

#Tuesdaybookblog: 5 Reasons to Love Charley Davidson @Darynda

I've been tearing through Darynda Jone's Charley Davidson series lately. I'd read the first couple before, and loved the series immediately. But I recently made a commitment to read them all in order to be up-to-date when the 11th novel, Eleventh Grave in Moonlight drops in January.

I don't like reviews that give spoilers, so instead, I will give you five reasons to love Charley Davidson, the heroine of the series.
1) She sees dead people.
Charley is the Grim Reaper and as a consequence, she can see the departed here on Earth. Who doesn't want a friend who can see dead people? 
2) She's an awesome P.I.
Her private investigation antics are always fun to watch. The excitement, the drama, oh my! I want a P.I. friend who is always running around, solving cases, saving lives and ordering mucho grande tacos. 
3) She has great friends. Cookie is her assistant/sidekick and she's lovely. Their conversations are fantastic. Witty. Engaging and it makes you want to put on pajamas and join in. Just don't let Cookie make the margaritas! Witty banter is always a selling point in a novel for me. But it is even better if I like both parties who are bantering. And in this case, I do!
4) Her boyfriend is super hot.Okay, it might be the Son of Satan thing, but Reyes is smokin'. And I'm not even usually into dudes! Yet I want him as my book boyfriend--if that's not an endorsement for a certain six-pack of abs, I don't know what is. It always puts a smile on my face when he shows up. It's usually a sign that things are about to get reaaaaaaally good. 
5) Charley always saves the day.
No matter how many demons, how many criminals, how many ghosts and near brushes with death, Charley always wins. It's hard not to root for a girl who gives it her all and keeps coming out on top. It's been fun watching her powers grow and see her coming into her own. Just her character arc and development would be enough for me, even if she didn't come with the great friends, sassy attitude, mad skills and hot boyfriend.

Okay that's all you're getting from me for free! Go! Go pick up the series. (Now! Go! Go!) Binge read! And we can fangirl together until Moonlight rolls around!

#Mondaymotivation: Stop Procrastinating! #amwriting

It's Monday. You're at the desk. You've got your tunes on. You've got the snacks on hand. Beverages on hand (because dehydration is serious!) and the phone is on silent or vibrate.

Within an hour, you'll have 1000 words on the page, right?

Or...you'll spend the hour perusing email, checking facebook, falling into an internet spiral and open your eyes at 10:03 and wonder just how long you've been looking at all the Caturday posts you missed on Twitter!

The internet. It can be a writer's best friend or a major deterrent.  Fortunately, you can block the internet for a period of time and makes sure that you can't do anything with your computer but write!

The program is appropriately called Stop Procrastinating. Stop Procrastinating allows you not only to make your computer time more about writing and less about Facebook stalking your ex, but it also helps you to clarify your goals and intentions. 

Since I've installed it, I average about 3000 words a day. So for me at least, it's been really helpful in keeping me on track while I write.

No, I'm not getting any payments to promote this company (though if they read this and offer me a check, I'm not going to say no ;), but I think it is a good resource for writers. So I don't want to be that jerk that hordes all the trade secrets.

So go on! Try it! And let me know what you think. If you've got other tips to help writers to avoid distractions while writing, share below.

Thanks! :)

#Fridayreads: Parable of the Hostages by Louise Gluck

Parable of the HostagesRelated Poem Content DetailsBY LOUISE GLÜCKThe Greeks are sitting on the beach wondering what to do when the war ends. No one wants to go home, back to that bony island; everyone wants a little more of what there is in Troy, more life on the edge, that sense of every day as being packed with surprises. But how to explain this to the ones at home to whom fighting a war is a plausible excuse for absence, whereas exploring one’s capacity for diversion is not. Well, this can be faced later; these are men of action, ready to leave insight to the women and children. Thinking things over in the hot sun, pleased by a new strength in their forearms, which seem more golden than they did at home, some begin to miss their families a little, to miss their wives, to want to see if the war has aged them. And a few grow slightly uneasy: what if war is just a male version of dressing up, a game devised to avoid profound spiritual questions? Ah, but it wasn’t only the war. The world had begun calling them, an opera beginning with the war’s loud chords and ending with the floating aria of the sirens. There on the beach, discussing the various timetables for getting home, no one believed it could take ten years to get back to Ithaca; no one foresaw that decade of insoluble dilemmas—oh unanswerable affliction of the human heart: how to divide the world’s beauty into acceptable and unacceptable loves! On the shores of Troy, how could the Greeks know they were hostages already: who once delays the journey is already enthralled; how could they know that of their small number some would be held forever by the dreams of pleasure, some by sleep, some by music?

Free #books by Monica La Porta @momilp #ThriftyThursday

The Lost Centurian--The Immortals Book 1


The chains of Love are stronger than the bonds of Revenge

The Roman centurion Marcus has sworn to avenge his wife's death—even if it takes an eternity to hunt down the vampire who murdered her. Turned immortal by a capricious god, for the last two thousand years, Marcus has been living a life devoid of love, consumed by his hatred for the vampire race. Until the night he rescues one of them, a frail newborn vampling, Diana, and she becomes his responsibility. Tortured by his past and hunted by vampires, Marcus must choose between avenging his dead wife or saving Diana from the same man who ruined his life, only to discover that not everything is what it appears to be.
Available on Amazon and everywhere ebooks are sold.

Gaia (Worlds Apart Book 1)
While vacationing in Greece, Gaia locks eyes with a stranger, twice. Two years later, back in Rome, she should be enjoying college life; instead, the memories of his lapis lazuli eyes and Mona Lisa smile still haunt her. Gaia longs to meet him again and unwittingly sabotages her romantic life by refusing to move on. Only her anthropological studies about the mysterious Etruscans make her feel alive. A chance to breathe new air is presented to her when she wins a full scholarship to study abroad at the University of Washington. In rainy Seattle, Gaia finally meets the man of her dreams, but he proves to be... otherworldly. Meanwhile, in her field of studies, what starts as an interesting archeological finding about a six-fingered human image, soon evolves into the discovery of the millennium, but not where Earth is concerned. Although Gaia is a companion novel of Elios, you can read these in either order. They are both stand-alone stories from different points of view. You met Gaia and Elios in his book; now hear her story.

Available on Amazon and everywhere ebooks are sold.


The Priest (The Ginecean Chronicles Book 1)

Mauricio is a slave. Like any man born on Ginecea, he is but a number to the pure breed women who rule over him with cruel hands. Imprisoned inside the Temple since birth, Mauricio has never been outside, never felt the warmth of the sun on his skin. He lives a life devoid of hopes and desires. Then one day, he hears Rosie sing. He risks everything for one look at her and his life is changed forever. An impossible friendship blossoms into affection deemed sinful and perverted in a society where the only rightful union is between women. Love is born where only hate has roots and leads Mauricio to uncover a truth that could destroy Ginecea.

Available on Amazon and everywhere ebooks are sold.

Lost in Limbo Boxset only $0.99 #Tuesdaybookblog

Limited time only!  Get the first three novels of this awesome urban fantasy for just $0.99


Welcome to Limbo City, the capital of the afterlife, where deities of every faith mingle on the most modern playground this side of the grave. 

Lana Harvey is an eighth generation reaper, a baby by Eternity standards. She’s been a low-risk soul harvester for three centuries, but her dead-end job finds a new lease on life when Grim drops a high-risk promotion in her lap. Lana doesn’t care for the Afterlife Council’s politics, but with her new assignment, she soon finds herself forging uneasy alliances with the movers and shakers of Eternity. These alliances turn Lana’s life upside down, doing everything from igniting her love life to attracting the attention of rebel forces looking to overthrow the council. 

Lana would rather be having a beer at Purgatory Lounge with her best friend, the archangel Gabriel, but it looks like she has some demon ass-kicking and serious soul-searching to do first.

Available on Amazon and everywhere ebooks are sold!

#Fridayreads: Poet Dances with Inanimate Object

Poet Dances with Inanimate Object
Related Poem Content DetailsBY CORNELIUS EADYfor Jim SchleyThe umbrella, in this case; Earlier, the stool, the Wooden pillars that hold up     the roof. 
This guy, you realize, Will dance with anything— —He likes the idea. 
Then he picks up some lady’s discarded sandals, Holds them next to his head like sea shells, Donkey ears. 
Nothing,          his body states, Is safe from the dance of ideas!

#ThursdayTreat: Book Spotlight #urbanfantasy

It's only a memory, and memories can't hurt you. 
Oh, if only that were true.
The New Year is supposed to be a time of hope and renewal, but for Jesse Sullivan, she knows this is her last trip around the sun. Her enemy can control minds and teleport and despite her unique gifts, it's becoming harder and harder to protect the people she loves.

Jesse and her motley crew have a plan for stopping Caldwell's genocidal reign, but it will require a 2500-mile road trip to Cochise, Arizona, the abandoned military base where it all began. And if their journey isn't perilous enough, it's made worst by the Judas in their midst.
The Reviews
"So much fun!" -T. Huffman
Yet another Jesse thrill ride ..... Mustang and all. -IconicBlonde
Great continuation of the series...exciting and never boring. Refreshing take on zombies and supernatural beings--Lisa Morris
Amazon  I  Kobo I Nook I iTunes 

Excerpt:
“So what’ll it be?” I ask her. “Water? Juice? I don’t think we actually have Gatorade, but I can walk down to the store.”
“Water’s fine.” Ally falls back against cushions and grins up at me. A light pink blush spreads over her cheeks. She finger-combs her hair. “My hair is so pretty. I love my hair.”
I snort. “I love your hair too.”
“What else about me is cute?” she asks.
“Everything.” I fluff the pillow for her and search the room for a blanket. I yank a red velvety throw off the back of a chair as Gideon slips out of the bedroom and passes me on his way to the mini fridge. He grabs one of the wrapped water glasses from the bar above.
“Grab us one too.” I have zero problems assigning tasks to other people. Sometimes I wonder if it was a mistake going into death-replacing. Sure, I was a great death replacement agent, and dying for other people is cool, but I’m really good at bossing people around.
It’s like a calling.
Gideon fills two water glasses with some fancy bottled water from the fridge and hands me a glass. I don’t dare remind him that Ally vowed not to drink this water yesterday. She ranted about the effect of plastic on the environment for ten whole minutes. I could’ve reminded her that the planet is about to explode anyway, but that meant Gideon would’ve won the argument and I’m Team Ally all the way.
I put the glass of water in her hand. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. “Here you go. Drink up.”
She waves her water around. “I just feel so good, you know?”
I smile. “I can tell.”
She runs a hand through her hair. “It’s a new year. A new beginning. And we have a great plan for kicking Caldwell’s butt.”
“We do.”
“And you’re so cute and you kissed me.”
With arched eyebrows, Gideon closes the bedroom door behind him. Thankfully, the sound of the television comes on, affording us some privacy.
I sink down onto the sofa beside her. “I’ll do it again if you want me too. I’ll kiss you a million times.”
She bites her lip and I’m about to lose it. I lean forward to kiss her but she starts talking again, so I hang there mid-smooch, lips puckered.
“Life is so good right now. No one is stabbing us, burying us alive, beating us up, or kidnapping the dog,” she goes on, her voice echoing inside her water glass. Her face pinches. “That means we are probably about to die.”
I press my lips together and sigh. “Don’t say that. You’ll jinx us.”
It’s difficult getting her to sit up, but I manage it. I want her to drink this water. I tilt the glass toward her lips, encouraging her.
“This is good,” she says and frowns at the water. “Is this tap water?”
“Yep.”
“Because I’m not drinking that $15 water Gideon bought.”
“It’s tap,” I say again. “You’re just too drunk to taste it.”Ally shrugs and finishes the glass. Then she hands me her empty glass.
“You want more?”
“No,” she grins. “I want something else.”
“We’ve got chips, but that’s about it. And Rachel can’t close a bag to save her life, so they’re probably stale.”She shakes her head, grinning.
Then I realize what she’s saying.
“Oh.” I smile. “Okay.”
She crawls over the pillow between us and pulls herself into my lap. She straddles me, wrapping her arms around my neck. She kisses me once on the cheek, probably a missed target rather than a sweet gesture, and then manages to get my mouth the second time.
She pulls back. “God, is it you or is it really hot in here?”
“We’re still wearing our coats.”
She laughs and looks down at herself. “Oh. Right.”
I reach up behind her and pull her jacket off. “Better?”
She snuggles up to me. “You’re still hot.”
“Thanks for noticing.”
“Let me help you take your coat off.”
“Okay.” I let her attempt to pull off the jacket, but it’s not really going anywhere and she accidentally pulls my hair twice. So I help her get my jacket off and throw it over the arm of the sofa. One of the throw pillows falls to the floor with a poof.
Ally doesn’t stop there. She slips her hands under my shirt, giving me a curious look. “Is this okay?”
I try to find the voice to tell her it’s more than okay. She would have been naked an hour ago in the grubby bathroom of some bar if she wasn’t such a germaphobe.
She is so beautiful. Her eyes are bright, reflecting the lamplight. Her face is flushed from the alcohol, her smile lazy. Her eyes half-closed. My heart pounds in my chest, thudding against my ribs so hard it hurts.
“What’s wrong?” A frown creases her face and I think she can hear my heart throbbing. “Don’t you think I’m pretty?”
“Don’t be stupid.”
I reach up and pull her down into my arms. I kiss her, even more deeply than I did on the balcony. I slip my hand under her shirt and unsnap her bra with one twist of my fingers.
She gasps in my mouth and the sound of it makes my whole body shudder.
“Lay down,” I command.
She laughs, surprised, but her voice goes all deep and breathy. “Yes, sir.”
I climb on top of her, positioning myself between her legs. I kiss her neck and she squirms, bucking her hips up against mine.
“Do you love me?” she asks.
“More than anyone.”
“Are you sure?”
I cover her mouth with mine. “Please stop talking.” I pull back. “Unless you want me to stop.”
“No, no.” She grabs the front of my hoodie, twisting it up in her fists and pulls me down on top of her.