Kory M. Shrum's Blog, page 5

Worth Dying For Audiobook #Giveaway #Tuesdaybookblog

My novel Worth Dying For is finally available on Audible. In order to celebrate, I always giveaway the codes to my fans because that seems like the thing to do.

So I sent a newsletter tonight that said "First 20 responders get a free audiobook (in the form of an audible code)." I pressed send.

Then I went to dinner, ate a delicious salad, and some onion soup (I'm dieting for my impending nuptials--59 days and counting!!!). Then when I came home, I checked my email.

My heart about fell out of my chest when I read 1,024 unread messages.

1,024!

As someone who is psychotic about maintaining INBOX ZERO, I almost passed out. Who knew so many of you wanted to a free Jesse audiobook?!?

Well, I gave away my first 20 (sorry if you didn't win!), but there are still prizes to be had.

When you (a writer) publishes a book with Audible, they give you 25 codes. So I'm putting the remaining five codes in this raffle for you. If you didn't win, you still have a chance snag an audiobook by entering this giveaway. Or if you're a greedy book hoarder (no one is judging!), enter to win. AGAIN.

In addition to the five audiobook codes, I'm also going to give away a *grand prize* of a 3-month audible audiobook membership (A prize donated to the Jesse-fandom on behalf of my friend Adison Purchase. Thanks, Adison! You can also thank her below).

That is all for now.

If you love free stuff, you're also welcome to sign for my newsletter here. I usually have at least 1 giveaway a month. 

Or if you don't play around and want to straight to a free book with over 400 reviews, then click here. 

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#Fridayreads: Birthday #poem for birthday week

How to Spend a BirthdayRelated Poem Content DetailsBY LEE HERRICK
Light a match. Watch the blue part                                                                  flare like a shocked piñata
                                            from the beating                                            into the sky,
                                                             watch how fast thin
wood burns & turns toward the skin,
the olive-orange skin of your thumb                                                              & let it burn, too.
Light a fire. Drown out the singing cats.
Let the drunken mariachis blaze their way,
streaking like crazed hyenas
over a brown hill, just underneath
a perfect birthday moon.
Lee Herrick, "How to Spend a Birthday" from The Many Miles from Desire. Copyright © 2007 by Lee Herrick, published by WordTech Communications LLC

$0.99 One Day Sale #Urbanfantasy

Dying by the Hour
A Jesse Sullivan Novel
Book 2 of the Dying for a Living series

80 reviews
4.5 out of 5 stars

After 83 deaths, Jesse Sullivan knows how to die. As a Necronite, she is one of the population's rare 2% who can serve as a death replacement agent, dying so others don't have to. But using her NRD to save lives is why she's being hunted. 

For Ally Gallagher, death is permanent. If she fails to protect Jesse again, there will be no third attempt. After a quiet year the signs of serious danger have returned. People connected to Jesse are disappearing. Her home is vandalized and threatening messages are turning up in the safest of places. 

Then Jesse is taken and Ally has only hours to get her back. But no salvation comes without its price.

ReviewsI love the whit and sarcasm of Jesse ... I love her ... adore her ... she's just my kind of people--Lisa Miller
Very enjoyable, wild concept, sexy but not in your face.--BargainBookBuddy
Read these books in order. An interesting premise to build a series on. I thoroughly enjoyed reading the first two of this series.-- Jane Osborne


Amazon
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iTunes
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Audible
Smashwords 

While Dying by the Hour is only on sale today, Book 1, Dying for a Living, is always free.

#Fridayreads: Margaret Atwood #poetry

Marrying the HangmanRelated Poem Content DetailsBY MARGARET ATWOODShe has been condemned to death by hanging. A man
may escape this death by becoming the hangman, a
woman by marrying the hangman. But at the present
time there is no hangman; thus there is no escape.
There is only a death, indefinitely postponed. This is
not fantasy, it is history.

*

To live in prison is to live without mirrors. To live
without mirrors is to live without the self. She is
living selflessly, she finds a hole in the stone wall and
on the other side of the wall, a voice. The voice
comes through darkness and has no face. This voice
becomes her mirror.

*

In order to avoid her death, her particular death, with
wrung neck and swollen tongue, she must marry the
hangman. But there is no hangman, first she must
create him, she must persuade this man at the end of
the voice, this voice she has never seen and which has
never seen her, this darkness, she must persuade him
to renounce his face, exchange it for the impersonal
mask of death, of official death which has eyes but
no mouth, this mask of a dark leper. She must
transform his hands so they will be willing to twist
the rope around throats that have been singled out
as hers was, throats other than hers. She must marry
the hangman or no one, but that is not so bad. Who
else is there to marry?

*

You wonder about her crime. She was condemned
to death for stealing clothes from her employer, from
the wife of her employer. She wished to make herself
more beautiful. This desire in servants was not legal.

*

She uses her voice like a hand, her voice reaches
through the wall, stroking and touching. What could
she possibly have said that would have convinced him?
He was not condemned to death, freedom awaited
him. What was the temptation, the one that worked?
Perhaps he wanted to live with a woman whose life
he had saved, who had seen down into the earth but
had nevertheless followed him back up to life. It was
his only chance to be a hero, to one person at least,
for if he became the hangman the others would
despise him. He was in prison for wounding another
man, on one finger of the right hand, with a sword.
This too is history.

*

My friends, who are both women, tell me their stories,
which cannot be believed and which are true. They
are horror stories and they have not happened to me,
they have not yet happened to me, they have
happened to me but we are detached, we watch our
unbelief with horror. Such things cannot happen to
us, it is afternoon and these things do not happen in
the afternoon. The trouble was, she said, I didn’t
have time to put my glasses on and without them I’m
blind as a bat, I couldn’t even see who it was. These
things happen and we sit at a table and tell stories
about them so we can finally believe. This is not
fantasy, it is history, there is more than one hangman
and because of this some of them are unemployed.

*

He said: the end of walls, the end of ropes, the opening
of doors, a field, the wind, a house, the sun, a table,
an apple.

She said: nipple, arms, lips, wine, belly, hair, bread,
thighs, eyes, eyes.

They both kept their promises.

*

The hangman is not such a bad fellow. Afterwards he
goes to the refrigerator and cleans up the leftovers,
though he does not wipe up what he accidentally
spills. He wants only the simple things: a chair,
someone to pull off his shoes, someone to watch him
while he talks, with admiration and fear, gratitude if
possible, someone in whom to plunge himself for rest
and renewal. These things can best be had by marrying
a woman who has been condemned to death by other
men for wishing to be beautiful. There is a wide
choice.

*

Everyone said he was a fool.
Everyone said she was a clever woman.
They used the word ensnare.

*

What did they say the first time they were alone
together in the same room? What did he say when
she had removed her veil and he could see that she
was not a voice but a body and therefore finite?
What did she say when she discovered that she had
left one locked room for another? They talked of
love, naturally, though that did not keep them
busy forever.

*

The fact is there are no stories I can tell my friends
that will make them feel better. History cannot be
erased, although we can soothe ourselves by
speculating about it. At that time there were no
female hangmen. Perhaps there have never been any,
and thus no man could save his life by marriage.
Though a woman could, according to the law.

*

He said: foot, boot, order, city, fist, roads, time,
knife.

She said: water, night, willow, rope hair, earth belly,
cave, meat, shroud, open, blood.

They both kept their promises.Notes:
Jean Cololère, a drummer in the colonial troops at Québec, was imprisoned for duelling in 1751. In the cell next to his was Françoise Laurent, who had been sentenced to hang for stealing. Except for letters of pardon, the only way at the time for someone under sentence of death to escape hanging was, for a man, to become a hangman, or, for a woman, to marry one. Françoise persuaded Cololère to apply for the vacant (and undesirable) post of executioner, and also to marry her. —Condensed from the Dictionary of Canadian Biography, Volume III, 1741-1770Margaret Atwood, “Marrying the Hangman” from Selected Poems 1976-1986. Copyright © 1987 by Margaret Atwood. 

#Thursdaytreat: Book Spotlight on my fav #urbanfantasy

Dying Light
27 reviews   
4.9 out of 5
Book 4 of the Dying for a Living series

In the wake of her handler’s death, Jesse has never felt more alone. Her best friend is distracted by a new love. Her mentor Rachel is missing and her boyfriend Lane isn’t returning her calls.      
Worse, a Necronite with the ability to heal any wound wants to kill Jesse and absorb her power of pyrokinesis.    
  With little to hold her to Nashville, Jesse agrees to work as a freelance agent for Jeremiah Tate, a pharmaceutical tycoon in Chicago. Together they plot revenge against Caldwell, the mastermind responsible for the genocide of over 100,000 Necronites worldwide. 

When Jeremiah fails to dominate Jesse and her pyrokinesis, tensions escalate, dividing her from her allies. 

Then Caldwell gives Jesse an ultimatum she cannot refuse. 


Amazon ReviewsShrum writes in a breakneck style utilizing short, punchy chapters that alternate points of view. That is not easy to do effectively because if not done well the narrative can get lost in the telling of the tale. Shrum - like Michelle Lynn, another favorite author of mine - is able to pull it off flawlessly --Mike Billington
Along with great characters, the world building is fantastic and once you start, you won’t want to put it down. I highly recommend this series, but start with book one, Dying for a Living.--Wendy Nelson
If you are looking to start a new UF series that is light on the romance aspect and heavy on awesome, then give this one a try. --Sharon Stogner

Available on:

Amazon  *   Barnes and Noble  *  Kobo  *  iTunes  *   Smashwords   * Audible 

“Come on,” I wail. “Jumping out of a burning building is not the craziest thing we’ve ever done!”“If you hadn’t panicked, the building wouldn’t be on fire,” Ally snaps back. She tucks the bundled laptop under her arm and starts yanking open desk drawers. Post-it notes of every color fly through the air, followed by pens, a stapler, paperclips and a Kleenex box.I search the open office space for another door. Nada. Only one way in and out.“I had to do something.” I thought firebombing the bad guy was my one good idea on this mission to retrieve a laptop for Jeremiah. “If I hadn’t, we’d still be stuck with him.”We both turn our gaze to the locked door twenty feet away. A row of unoccupied desks rests between us and where we entered. The office is spacious, with rows of silver tabletops running the length of the room. Spacious—but not spacious enough with a homicidal maniac just on the other side of the door.Something large slams into the locked office door, rattling the walls. Ominous black smoke seeps through the cracks and the smell of campfire wafts in. That smell is surely going to cling to my hair until I wash it.“Just because we’ve been reckless before doesn’t excuse it now.” Ally slams a desk drawer shut and yanks another open. Her disheveled blonde hair hides most of her face, revealing only terrified eyes. She gives up trying to find a weapon in the desk drawer and hurries to the window. Her gaze falls on the street below. “God, Jesse. No. We’ll never survive a fall from this height.”I shrug and pucker my lips. “It’s fine. I’ve fallen from higher. We’ll be fine.”She blinks at me.“You’re forgetting about my shield thingy.” I’m talking out of my ass here, but there is no way I’m letting him come in here and hurt her. He can trade punches with me all day if he wants, but not with Ally. I’ll have to find a way to break the window, jump out, and shield her on the way down.The door shakes for the fourth time and a thick crack appears to the left of the jamb. A thicker plume of black smoke rolls through the crack and floats to the ceiling. The white popcorn tiles disappear beneath the black fog. I go to the window and look through the glass beside her. The glass is cold under my palms and my breath fogs on the surface despite the growing heat of the room. Down below, tiny cars cut corners around buildings. One could easily be mistaken for a child’s toy.Shit, it really is far down.I meet Ally’s eyes and shrug. “We don’t have a lot of options.” Sweat forms at my hairline and in the folds where my coat sits snug against my body. Chicago shines brightly around us, each pinpoint of light from the buildings and streets illuminating the dark sky. My gaze flits from building to building, from illuminated window to illuminated window, but I don’t see salvation. We aren’t close enough to another skyscraper to signal for help. No scaffolding or window-washer platform is available to carry us to the safety of solid ground or to the roof above, where we were supposed to meet Jeremiah.The coms in our ears buzz incoherently for the billionth time. Ally sighs in irritation. As the coms stop crackling she mashes the speak button flat with her thumb. “For the thousandth time, we can’t understand you. Something is wrong with our signal. If you can hear us, we are on the 34th floor of the Jensen building and we’re trapped. Send help.” A look of resolution solidifies on Ally’s face. “Jason’s going to kill us.”“No.” I squeeze her arm. “So what if he’s like a hell-bent terminator with unlimited healing ability.” I snort, trying to hide my panic. “I’ve got this.”She cocks her head. “It’s great you have firebombs and shields but we have to be careful. We don’t know the repercussions of your powers yet.”“And getting ourselves locked in burning buildings with raging madmen is playing it so safe.”“You know what I mean.” She steps away from the window and shifts the laptop in her arms. She yanks open more office drawers.I arch an eyebrow. “A paper cut isn’t going to hurt him.”“Paper cuts hurt.” She forces a smile. “But we need something to slow him down. And you’re not helping.”I throw my hands up and pick an aisle of desks. After uselessly searching two drawers, I lift one of the office chairs and immediately know this flimsy, ergonomic piece of crap won’t be able to break a window. I throw it anyway. It bounces off the glass and comes back at me with a vengeance, clipping my knee.“Fuckity fuck! Ow. Ow.”Ally looks up from the drawer and scowls at me. “Injuring yourself before he even breaks into the room is not what I had in mind.”I give her a hard stare, rubbing my throbbing knee and stumbling to another desk. I have half a mind to remind her that it wasn’t my idea to come to Chicago. I was happy in Nashville. Sure, my boyfriend Lane—ex-boyfriend—wasn’t talking to me, but everything else was okay. The first time Jason, the insta-healing terminator tried to rip my head off, Ally had a fit. Jeremiah capitalized on it, of course.Come to Chicago where it’s safer. We have more people and more power there. And Caldwell is up to something in the city. We could really use the extra hands.I just wanted to stay in bed and mourn Brinkley, the man who’d given his life trying to kill Caldwell. Everyone else keeps acting like I’m supposed to be working here.The crack in the door widens and I see an angry eye fix on me. Jason screams as if the very sight of me enrages him.Gabriel appears at a desk two rows up from the one I’m searching. He flickers in and out, unable to hold his form with another partis—a weirdo with powers like me—nearby. He’s crystal clear when I’m alone, but when there’s two or more partis, I’m lucky if Gabriel can materialize at all. This is real inconvenient given that I need him most when the others show up looking for a fight.“Here.” Gabriel points at a giant rock sitting on top of one of the desks. “Use this.”No, not a rock, I realize. I place my hands on the massive stone. It’s an amethyst the size of a grapefruit. Beside it sits a little note: Don’t touch me. Please. You’ll change my energy.I look up, but Gabriel’s gone.I lift the rock off the desktop. It sinks into my palms like dead weight, the purple spikes poking my flesh. “Sorry, but I need your energy to club this fucker.”I meet eyes with Jason again as he inches his fingers through the crack and starts swiping at the locking mechanism we latched behind us.“Get over here,” I shout to Ally. Ally makes it halfway across the room before the door explodes. Splinters the size of my leg fly at my face. I duck behind the desk, clutching the gigantic stone to my chest.I peek over the tabletop and see Jason standing in the flames. His body smolders. His blistered arm melts from burnt to scabby to pink. He spots me behind the desk and we lock eyes. His face twists into a murderous grin.“Stop hiding,” he calls out. “Let’s do this.”In my peripheral vision, Ally darts to another desk, staying low.Jason takes a step toward me. “Just think, this power could be yours if you’d challenge me already.” “Fighting is such a commitment.” I stand slowly, but keep the desk between us. I’m hoping it buys me time if he does anything crazy like lunge for my throat. “You have to get close. You have to touch people. Sometimes, like you, they smell. No, thank you.”Jason’s face goes perfectly smooth. Was it something I said?A flash of black wings catches my eye. Gabriel’s still here, even if he can’t materialize. The scent of rain overtakes me as Gabriel dials up my power. My muscles contract and my body warms. My skin starts to itch around the collar of my shirt and across my belly. I feel like I have to pee. I try not to squirm. “You know who else is in the city? Caldwell. Why don’t you kill him instead?”Jason’s face twists up in fury again. “After I’m finished with you.”“Why does everyone keep saying that?” I would put my hands on my hip if not for the giant amethyst. “Don’t you think I’m a badass?”“You’re smaller.”My temper flares. “You’re trying to kill me because I’m short?”Ally coughs on the smoke filling the room and I jerk my head toward the sound. Jason doesn’t hesitate. “Jesse!” Gabriel’s voice booms in my head.My soul rips open, power exploding from my center in all directions. It’s like someone is yanking my intestines out of my belly button. I’m so overwhelmed but I can’t stop the power from flooding out of me or even slow it down. Fire and smoke whoosh away from me as if blown by a great wind. The air around me shimmers like pavement on a hot day. Blue flames roll over the surface of my body, suspended about three inches above my skin before erupting outward toward Jason, the office around us and anything else in its path. The only object that is safe is the amethyst cradled in my hands.The walls and ceiling shudder under the force of my firebomb, raining dust and plaster down on our heads. One minute the windows shatter, and glass spills out into the night air. The next minute cold winter air is sucked into the room. I open my eyes and find Jason sprawled on the floor, unconscious. My power blast knocked him out, burned his skin, but didn’t kill him. Damn. I come around the desk, or what is left of it, and peer closer. His flesh is already healing.I try to use my breath to slow my heart rate. I need to calm down, but my head is throbbing.“Ally?”No answer.“Ally!”“Here.” She pulls herself to standing in the middle of a cluster of desks that had obviously been pushed together in the blast. She shakes glass out of her hair and checks the laptop in her arms for damage. “Kill him,” Gabriel says in my ear. The weight of the amethyst doubles in my hands. “Kill him.”The idea of killing Jason and taking his healing powers appeals to me. Instead of having to die in order to heal myself, I could simply stay alive, and after a few breaths, be as good as new again. Wasn’t that a hell of a prospect? Less pain. Less wasted time. Less danger for myself and the people around me.I lift the amethyst, my eyes fixed on his skull.“Jesse.”I lift the rock a little higher as a strange calm washes over me. No, more than calm. Peace tinged with excitement. Oh god, I want to kill him. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to kill anyone.“Jesse.”Ally’s face appears in front of mine. Eye to eye, she blocks my view of Jason. “Baby.” She’s whispering. “We need to get out of here.”Her voice. Something about Ally’s voice seeps into my mind and untangles my thoughts. The cold hand inside me, the one delighting at the idea of peeling Jason open and stealing his ability to heal, grows warm. Its hold on me slackens as her brown eyes come into focus. I can’t murder someone in front of Ally. What the hell am I thinking?My muscles relax and I let the amethyst slip from my fingers to the floor.“Come on.” Ally squeezes my shoulders. “Maybe we can crawl down the hall a little bit and find the stairs.”“No we can’t go that way—” I don’t finish my thought. The smallest movement steals my attention and I turn just as Jason snatches up the amethyst and throws it at Ally.“No!” I scream as the rock sails through the air. “Gabriel!”My shield goes up around Ally. The shimmery purple light envelops her from head to toe. The rock ricochets off the force field, shoots through the broken window and out into the night. Jason screams and runs at me, head down as if he might tackle me like some football player. “Fuck this.” I sidestep Jason and grab hold of Ally. Her shield falters just long enough for me to wrap her in my arms and yank her forward. Before she can process what is about to happen, I shove her out the big window and don’t let go.Her shriek is muffled by the wind whipping around us, tearing at our hair and clothes.I suppose this is a perfectly natural reaction to your friend shoving you out of a high-rise building. “It’s okay.” I squeeze her against my chest. “The shield will hold.”“Right?” I ask Gabriel. “What about you? What about you?” Ally screams.“You will not survive the fall.” He plummets with us, his wings folding back to embrace the drop. “You must shield yourself.”“Ally lives, not me. We have a deal.”“You must shield yourself also.”“I don’t know how. You have to help me.”“Envision it.” Gabriel’s wings open, lifting him up into the air. “See it grow larger.”The field shines about an inch or so above Ally’s skin, it touches parts of me, but it sure as hell doesn’t cover anything important.“Hurry,” Gabriel says. “See it around you.”I close my eyes and see us falling in my head. The building rushes past us. The freezing air tears at our clothes and hair relentlessly. Lights shine from windows in a blur as we pass. I picture my shield bigger. I picture it around me and Ally, covering us both from head to toe.“Good. Do not stop now,” Gabriel says. I peek my eyes open to see purple has crept over my arms and shoulder, the shield half devouring my body—until pain erupts through my legs, my back, and the whole world goes black.

#Tuesdaybookblog: Three Series, 10+ #Mystery Reads Worth Reading

I love a good list. I make them for everything: groceries. To do. birthdays, etc. So here is a list of great mystery reads that you might enjoy--if murder, deception, and the chase are your thing!


The Cormoran Strike novels by Robert Galbraith

Three have been released so far: The Cuckoo's Calling, The Silkworm and Career of Evil. In The Cuckoo's Calling (Book 1), we meet the hero Cormoran Strike.

After losing his leg to a land mine in Afghanistan, Cormoran Strike is barely scraping by as a private investigator. Strike is down to one client, and creditors are calling. He has also just broken up with his longtime girlfriend and is living in his office.       Then John Bristow walks through his door with an amazing story: His sister, the legendary supermodel Lula Landry, known to her friends as the Cuckoo, famously fell to her death a few months earlier. The police ruled it a suicide, but John refuses to believe that. The case plunges Strike into the world of multimillionaire beauties, rock-star boyfriends, and desperate designers, and it introduces him to every variety of pleasure, enticement, seduction, and delusion known to man.       These are written by J.K. Rowling, writing under the pseudonym Robert Galbraith.


The Bill Hodges Trilogy by Stephen King

Unlike the aforementioned series, this one is complete. It begins with Mr. Mercedes and is followed by Finders Keepers and End of Watch.
       Mr. Mercedes opens with desperate unemployed folks lined up for a spot at a job fair. Without warning, a lone driver plows through the crowd in a stolen Mercedes, running over the innocent, backing up, and charging again. Eight people are killed; fifteen are wounded. The killer escapes.
         In another part of town, months later, a retired cop named Bill Hodges is still haunted by the unsolved crime. When he gets a crazed letter from someone who self-identifies as the “perk” and threatens an even more diabolical attack, Hodges wakes up from his depressed and vacant retirement, hell-bent on preventing another tragedy.
          Brady Hartsfield lives with his alcoholic mother in the house where he was born. He loved the feel of death under the wheels of the Mercedes, and he wants that rush again. Only Bill Hodges, with two new, unusual allies, can apprehend the killer before he strikes again. And they have no time to lose, because Brady’s next mission if it succeeds, will kill or maim thousands. 


The Yard (Scotland Yard's Murder Squad) by Alex Grecian
Five books and counting, this series begins with, you guessed it, The Yard.
Victorian London—a violent cesspool of squalid depravity. Only twelve detectives—The Murder Squad—are expected to solve the thousands of crimes committed here each month. Formed after the Metropolitan Police’s spectacular failure in capturing Jack the Ripper, the Murder Squad suffers the brunt of public contempt. But no one can anticipate the brutal murder of one of their own…           A Scotland Yard Inspector has been found stuffed in a black steamer trunk at Euston Square Station, his eyes and mouth sewn shut. When Walter Day, the squad’s new hire, is assigned to the case, he finds a strange ally in Dr. Bernard Kingsley, the Yard’s first forensic pathologist. Their grim conclusion: this was not just a random, bizarre murder but in all probability, the first of twelve. Because the squad itself it being targeted and the devious killer shows no signs of stopping before completing his grim duty. But Inspector Day has one more surprise, something even more shocking than the crimes: the killer’s motive.                                                                            *                     *                       *                  And if these books aren't enough to excite you, how's this: a list of free mystery reads from Instafreebie.

#FreebieFriday: Dead Again--It was fun the first time!

On the morning before her 67th death, it is business as usual for Jesse Sullivan: meet with the mortician, counsel soon-to-be-dead clients, and have coffee while reading the latest regeneration theory. Jesse dies for a living, literally. As a Necronite, she is one of the population's rare 2% who can serve as a death replacement agent, dying so others don't have to. Although each death is different, the result is the same: a life is saved, and Jesse resurrects days later with sore muscles, new scars, and another hole in her memory. 

But when Jesse is murdered and becomes the sole suspect in a federal investigation, more than her freedom and sanity are at stake. She must catch the killer herself--or die trying. 

Over 200 5-star reviews and free on Kindle, Nook, iTunes, Kobo, and elsewhere. And don't forget the giveaway below! $100 and a Kindle Fire.

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#ThursdayThoughts: #Kindle is Great but #Kobo is Killin' It Too #IndiesBeSeen

Today's Thursday's Tip: Distribute widely.

Like most indie authors, my default promo page is Amazon. Why? Well because on Amazon my book has over 400 reviews and over 90% of them positive. The majority of my purchase traffic routes through Amazon. But to say that Amazon is the only place to direct readers to would be a narrow view of publishing.

It's good to have as many product pages as possible. Not everyone has a kindle. And not everyone likes Amazon.

My Kobo page is also getting a lot of traffic these days. It's got 186 ratings and several nice reviews as well. And iTunes has 79 ratings on its product page.

What's my point?

That you have options and you should take advantage of them. You can use KDP to get your book in the Amazon store, and a reputable distributor like Smashwords can get your books in the iTunes, Nook, and Kobo markets as well.

So think about it. Maybe it really is 'the more the merrier'. 

When You Die for a Living, Is Happily Ever After Possible? #amwriting

As many of you finish up Worth Dying For , you guys have questions about what is going to happen in the last two books, Dying Breath and Dying Day.

Well tough! I'm not giving away spoilers!

But without giving away the juicy tidbits, I can give you some relief. (I think). Here are some questions that I've gotten most since the release of the fifth Jesse Sullivan novel in May.

Are there really only going to be two more books?
Yes. Dying Breath (November 2016) and Dying Day (May 2017)

Are there really REALLY only going to be just two more books--I just love Jesse so much!
Okay, well there might be an 8th book someday, telling it all from Caldwell's perspective. And a "9th" book of short stories outlining Jesse's death replacements (all or at least most of the 67) that happened before Dying for a Living began. But really, after Dying Day, the story should be considered "complete".

Worth Dying For got super dark, super fast! Please tell me that Jesse is headed for a happy ending...?
I think there is a happy ending for Jesse. Please keep in mind that I'm pretty morbid and what I think of as "happy" might be a little less "happy" for you...but I do think "happy ending" is right.

Who will be speaking (the narrator/s) in Dying Breath and Dying Day?
Dying Breath is narrated by Maisie and Jesse. Dying Day will be narrated by Jesse and Ally--with a third-person epilogue on the end from Gloria's POV.

OMG!!! WHY IS GLORIA GIVING THE EPILOGUE? IS EVERYONE ELSE DEAD? YOU HEARTLESS BITCH!!!
Yeah, spoilers. Sorry. But have a little faith!

Is Lane ever coming back?
While it is true that Lane was more important in the earlier books, he might make a small appearance in Dying Day---assuming his scenes don't end up on the cutting room floor!

Will we see Brinkley again? Rachel?
You might be surprised.

Is Jesse and Ally going to end up together--like forever? Happily ever after?
S.P.O.I.L.E.R.S.

Are we ever going to find out what the angels want and why they are here?
Yes. All is revealed in Dying Day, which heavily features the Jesse-Gabriel relationship.

When will Worth Dying For be on audiobook?
It's in post-production now, actually. Even with delays *shakes fist at Audible* it should be ready by the end of August.

That's all for now, folks! If you haven't already, enter the giveaway for the $100 and Kindle Fire below.


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#Fridayreads: A Poem by Sappho #poetry

One Girl
Related Poem Content DetailsBY SAPPHOTRANSLATED BY DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI                                   I Like the sweet apple which reddens upon the topmost bough, Atop on the topmost twig, — which the pluckers forgot, somehow, — Forget it not, nay; but got it not, for none could get it till now. 
                               II Like the wild hyacinth flower which on the hills is found, Which the passing feet of the shepherds for ever tear and wound, Until the purple blossom is trodden in the ground.