tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-41672247194860255682024-03-06T01:40:23.512-06:00Paranormal LoungeA place for all things paranormal. Reviews, ideas, and more!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03654099780429487821noreply@blogger.comBlogger214125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167224719486025568.post-39858865450174681962013-08-03T14:13:00.001-05:002013-08-03T14:13:21.869-05:00I'm Moving!Hey guys! It's getting too difficult to keep up with multiple blogs, so I'm moving everything to my new website where you will find everything Kayla Curry related. I'll be republishing most of the posts from this blog on the over the next few weeks, but once I've done that, I'll be putting up new content!<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.kaylacurry.com/">http://www.kaylacurry.com</a><br />
<br />
Feel free to subscribe via email!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03654099780429487821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167224719486025568.post-88474385957318352292013-07-26T12:00:00.000-05:002013-07-26T12:00:03.963-05:00M Pepper Langlinais: The K-Pro Excerpt #2<span style="font-size: large;">The excerpts today come from M Pepper Langlinais. Her novel The K-Pro is about the ancient Roman and Greek gods and goddesses. If you missed the <a href="http://paranormallounge.blogspot.com/2013/07/m-pepper-langlinais-k-pro-excerpt-1.html" target="_blank">first excerpt</a>, check it out before this one!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrVov5OPFwLEtJXm-GxMCd37anX64dBiIZnFu5f0Btkc41fvmZTfDkSk4HPS_jXVZgTeUoi08GDk7lgDQUNWpuG5Rws2aojB2cImjXCHfAMVF01RxcHsrxcMvIex-rb77LUOI_mh49zJTi/s1600/kprocover_sized.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrVov5OPFwLEtJXm-GxMCd37anX64dBiIZnFu5f0Btkc41fvmZTfDkSk4HPS_jXVZgTeUoi08GDk7lgDQUNWpuG5Rws2aojB2cImjXCHfAMVF01RxcHsrxcMvIex-rb77LUOI_mh49zJTi/s320/kprocover_sized.jpg" width="239" /></a><b><span style="font-size: large;">The K-Pro Excerpt:</span></b><br />
Across the wide green at the side of the house was a garden, in full bloom in early June. Andra and David walked toward it in silence, side by side, though Andra noticed David was careful not to walk near enough to even accidentally brush or touch her. The closer they came to the colorful jumble of plants, the stronger the smell of them became, the breeze off the ocean below only managing to blow around the hot air and heavy perfume of flowers.<br />
<br />
“It’s just a bay,” David said, unprompted, just for something to say. “An inlet, really.”<br />
<br />
Andra nodded as if this were an interesting and important fact.<br />
<br />
“You see how the land gives way . . .” David gestured to the far side of the garden, which was bordered by a short wall of piled stones. It didn’t look to Andra like it would stop anyone from falling; on the contrary, Andra thought someone might be just as likely to trip on it and go flying out into the open air.<br />
<br />
As if reading the direction of her thoughts, David said, “It’s not that long a way down.”<br />
<br />
There had been no path on the lawn, and there wasn’t one in the garden, either, only grass between the flowerbeds, though the landscapers had left plenty of space. Andra guessed four people could walk shoulder to shoulder between the plantings. Or, in their case, it was just enough room for her and David to maintain a comfortable distance from one another. Now they meandered past hot pink somethings (Andra was terrible at gardening, though she could identify roses and tulips pretty definitely), and yellow other things, and some whites and purples, steadily making their way toward the wall.<br />
<br />
“Something there is that doesn’t love a wall,” Andra quoted.<br />
<br />
“What?” asked David, sounding yet again as if he’d only just arrived from somewhere else. Andra wondered where he went when inside his mind.<br />
<br />
“Robert Frost,” she said. “The poet?” When David only continued to stare blankly, Andra added, “You probably don’t have to learn him over here.”<br />
<br />
“We’ve got plenty of our own,” said David as he picked his way through some yellows that lined the wall, presumably planted there to keep people away from it, though David’s long legs allowed him to get over them with relative ease. He took a seat on the uneven pile, and Andra blanched as one of the flat, smooth stones shifted beneath him.<br />
<br />
“What’s wrong?” David asked.<br />
<br />
“That’s not . . . really very safe, is it?”<br />
<br />
David glanced over his shoulder. “It’s fine. It doesn’t drop straight to the water, you see? Kind of like a ha-ha. But without the cows.”<br />
<br />
Andra didn’t know what a ha-ha was, or what cows had to do with anything, nor could she see what David meant from where she stood, and she didn’t want to. Something panicky fluttered in her chest. “The stones are loose,” she pointed out. “They’re just piled, not, you know, stuck together or anything.”<br />
<br />
David cocked his bright eyes at her, and in that moment Andra saw just why they were the subject of so much Internet fan-girl chatter. The brilliant sunlight only served to make them clearer, so that they rivaled the sky for color. All at once Andra felt like she were falling forward and found herself thankful she wasn’t anywhere near the open drop. Reflexively, she dug the heels of her sandals into the grass as if to ground herself, and David’s eyes traveled away from Andra’s face to her feet, restoring her to rational thinking.<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Also by M Pepper Langlinais:</span></b><br />
St. Peter in Chains<br />
Sherlock Holmes and the Mystery of the Last Line<br />
Sherlock Holmes and the Adventure of Ichabod Reed<br />
The World Ends at Five and Other Stories<br />
<br />
and coming soon:<br />
<br />
St. Peter at the Gate<br />
<br />
Find them and The K-Pro at: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/M-Pepper-Langlinais/e/B008FBOSPE/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1">http://www.amazon.com/M-Pepper-Langlinais/e/B008FBOSPE/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1</a><br />
<br />
And follow M on her site at <a href="http://pepperwords.com/">http://pepperwords.com</a> and on Twitter @sh8kspeareAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03654099780429487821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167224719486025568.post-43557562686357041262013-07-26T00:00:00.000-05:002013-07-26T00:00:01.278-05:00M Pepper Langlinais: The K-Pro Excerpt #1<span style="font-size: large;">The excerpts today come from M Pepper Langlinais. Her novel The K-Pro is about the ancient Roman and Greek gods and goddesses. Come back at noon central time for another excerpt!</span><br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYFtpW5ZJ96fO1iq4qHHY8J-GoycmEVSWC5cbvXUYVw2TeeJS7Ge1GIWWTMlJeNMULHC4oZvEK2oV5yeCQ9CwDJuxGcgv1axLjc8mJ85L2C1uCgBaBulszWNgdxjjom2wjKUzOlXCzxIoF/s1600/kprocover_sized.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYFtpW5ZJ96fO1iq4qHHY8J-GoycmEVSWC5cbvXUYVw2TeeJS7Ge1GIWWTMlJeNMULHC4oZvEK2oV5yeCQ9CwDJuxGcgv1axLjc8mJ85L2C1uCgBaBulszWNgdxjjom2wjKUzOlXCzxIoF/s320/kprocover_sized.jpg" width="239" /></a><b><span style="font-size: large;">The K-Pro Excerpt:</span></b><br />
“What’s wrong with David?” Mac was wondering aloud.<br />
<br />
From where he stood monitoring the video assist, Craig came alert. “Sir?”<br />
<br />
“I wasn’t asking you,” Mac told him. He turned expectantly to Andra, “You’re old friends, right? Anything going on with him?”<br />
<br />
Andra shifted uncomfortably against the canvas on which she sat. “Well . . .” She drew the word out in an attempt to buy herself time to think. “You know, I came out to see him because . . .” And here she let the words hang; she didn’t have anything more to say.<br />
<br />
Of course, Mac filled in the open air with his own assumptions. And if Craig was paying attention to what was being said—or not being said—neither Andra nor Mac noticed.<br />
<br />
Whatever conclusion Mac reached, he didn’t voice it, only sighed. Then, cupping his hands around his mouth, he shouted, “David! Wake up and focus! Mr. Hastings is an energetic character, and you’re playing him like a narcoleptic!”<br />
<br />
David looked over, nodded his understanding, stepped back to his mark. And while Andra detected a fair amount of determination in his face, she saw traces of the forlorn as well.<br />
<br />
“Let me talk to him,” she said, slipping out of the chair.<br />
<br />
“Hey!” Craig called after her, then realized his seat was finally free. He hurried to reclaim it while Mac’s attention remained on the woman crossing the set to where the actors stood waiting for cue.<br />
<br />
“Andra, darling, has Mac added you to the cast?” Alfred asked as she stopped short in front of David.<br />
<br />
“Who’s this?” Liz asked.<br />
<br />
“Old friend of David’s. And Mac’s, too, apparently.” Alfred’s lips stretched like a snake uncoiling as he looked to their visitor. “You just know all kinds of interesting people, don’t you?”<br />
<br />
She ignored him. “What do you want?” she asked David, alarmed at the desperate tone she heard in her own voice.<br />
<br />
David only blinked, a small frown on his face.<br />
<br />
“Just tell me or let me go,” Andra pleaded.<br />
<br />
But David’s brow furrowed as he shook his head. He felt as if he had static between his ears. “I don’t . . .”<br />
<br />
“Shouldn’t we finish this shot?” asked Liz.<br />
<br />
“Yes, David,” said Alfred, “tell her you want to finish this scene so we can get in out of the heat.”<br />
<br />
“Would it help you concentrate if I weren’t here?” Andra asked.<br />
<br />
Unable now to think at all with her standing there, those green eyes on him making him dizzy and nauseous, David started to bring his hands to his face, was startled when something prevented them from getting there. A bolt ran through him as he realized Andra had taken his hands in hers.<br />
<br />
“Your makeup,” she said by way of explanation. Froze. Something was wrong. Andra heard it like a rolling thunder, going so far as to turn her eyes briefly to the empty summer sky in search of signs of an unexpected storm.<br />
<br />
But of course there was nothing. The sky was a clear, blank expanse of blue.<br />
<br />
So Andra looked again at David, whose dark blue eyes were digging into her in a way that made her distinctly uncomfortable.<br />
<br />
Wait. Dark blue? If there was one thing everyone knew about David Styles, it was that his eyes were a bright, light blue. The color of a Caribbean sea. Or the Mediterranean, depending on which magazine you read. In any case, not this strange slate color.<br />
<br />
Meaning to let go of David’s hands, Andra started to draw back and away, but he closed his fingers and held on.<br />
<br />
“I want my key back, Katie.”<br />
<br />
For Andra, the words were like a crack of lighting splitting the world in two, complete with the high-pitched howling of a wickedly cold wind. Her breath stopped in her chest and she rocked on her feet; the only thing that kept her from falling outright was David’s unrelenting grip.<br />
<br />
“That’s not the line,” Liz said, and the spell was broken. Andra used the moment to pull her hands free, and at the loss of her touch David blinked like a man waking from a dream. All at once he had a blazing headache. He reached again for his face but stopped himself short of touching it, eyeing Andra all the while.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span><br />
For her part, Andra watched David’s eyes clear, the darkness parting from them like rainclouds breaking open to allow daylight to shine through. And somewhere in the back of her mind, the screaming stopped again. “Alfred’s right,” she said when she realized everyone was still staring at her, “It’s hot out here. I’m going . . .” She didn’t finish the sentence, merely beat a hasty retreat.<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Also by M Pepper Langlinais:</span></b><br />
St. Peter in Chains<br />
Sherlock Holmes and the Mystery of the Last Line<br />
Sherlock Holmes and the Adventure of Ichabod Reed<br />
The World Ends at Five and Other Stories<br />
<br />
and coming soon:<br />
<br />
St. Peter at the Gate<br />
<br />
Find them and The K-Pro at: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/M-Pepper-Langlinais/e/B008FBOSPE/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1">http://www.amazon.com/M-Pepper-Langlinais/e/B008FBOSPE/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1</a><br />
<br />
And follow M on her site at <a href="http://pepperwords.com/">http://pepperwords.com</a> and on Twitter @sh8kspeareAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03654099780429487821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167224719486025568.post-48113205409735555652013-07-25T13:00:00.000-05:002013-07-25T13:00:04.282-05:00Nathan Squiers #3: FIRST EVER LOOK at Crimson Shadow: Love you to Death!!<span style="font-size: large;">The excerpts being featured today are from Nathan Squiers' Crimson Shadow Series. The first was from </span><a href="http://paranormallounge.blogspot.com/2013/07/nathan-squiers-1-crimson-shadow-noir.html" style="font-size: x-large;" target="_blank">book one, Noir</a><span style="font-size: large;">. The second excerpt was from <a href="http://paranormallounge.blogspot.com/2013/07/nathan-squiers-2-crimson-shadow-sins-of.html" target="_blank">Sins of the Father</a> and now, the moment you've been waiting for, a NEVER before seen, first look at the third book in the series, Love You to Death!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">This is the very first time the world has seen anything from this long-awaited third book!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiycblmE2w1Itcmq3ZkGbt-6YgtOEuUgZTpykSMB7JrN0lnBxN8ICE9O8IlhBfLHe1GPs1VpneJp2BYZk_xpZhtpKAqseHwh1iaiEjkrkx_5kV-mpj7ehXeaBaNvN49JQn92vu6D6vQrVzg/s1600/NateCloseup3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiycblmE2w1Itcmq3ZkGbt-6YgtOEuUgZTpykSMB7JrN0lnBxN8ICE9O8IlhBfLHe1GPs1VpneJp2BYZk_xpZhtpKAqseHwh1iaiEjkrkx_5kV-mpj7ehXeaBaNvN49JQn92vu6D6vQrVzg/s320/NateCloseup3.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">But before I show it to you, I just want to say that Nathan Squiers is an awesome author. He is very interested in his readers and loves to chat on Facebook. You will get at least a few laughs from the stuff he posts daily, so if you aren't following him yet, make sure that you do!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Okay. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Are you ready?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Are you sure?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">No?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Okay, I'll give you a second. Get excited!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Comfortable?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Finger on the scroll button?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Eyes glued to the screen?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Here it is!!!</span><br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b>
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Love You to Death</span></b><br />
<br />
Shooting from her seat she headed for the exit, gritting her teeth and cursing the café’s open mike night. A barista, delivering two steaming cups of coffee to a couple at a nearby table, tried to side-step out of her path but wound up bumping her hip with her own. Estella stumbled, hearing the girl’s heartbeat hasten and sending excited torrents of life through her veins.<br />
<br />
The roar of the music faded.<br />
<br />
There was no sound at all…<br />
<br />
Nothing but the rhythmic thumping of the barista’s pounding heart—the only song her body cared to hear at that moment—and the blood coursing like a river just under her skin.<br />
<br />
Her fangs extended further and it felt as though they would finally tear through her mouth in an effort to escape her starvation…<br />
<br />
Her gums were on fire!<br />
<br />
The barista backed up, nervously. “Oh, I’m sorry. I—”<br />
<br />
“IT’S FINE!” Estella screamed to hear herself over the girl’s heartbeat. Everybody turned to stare. She blushed and stepped back; away from the girl, whose blood was still calling to her. Her eyes darted about, seeing that everyone was staring at her and she felt a deep, gravel-thick growl crawl up her throat. “WHAT?” she roared at the staring crowd.<br />
<br />
The band stopped in mid chorus and any who weren’t staring before were now.<br />
<br />
And all their heartbeats beat like the damn bass-drum in her head.<br />
<br />
She covered her ears and ran, knocking the barista over on her way to the exit. Tears formed in her eyes—burning hot and blurring her vision—and she wished she could cast a spell, any kind of spell, to make it all go away.<br />
<br />
But she didn’t have the materials.<br />
<br />
Or the focus.<br />
<br />
The door crashed outward before she’d even reached it—reacting to her chaotic magical energies—and began to tear it from the hinges, sending the small bell fastened over the frame into a rattling frenzy that sounded like a series of gongs in her head. Behind her the crowd gasped and cried out in surprise.<br />
<br />
So many heartbeats…<br />
<br />
So much blood…<br />
<br />
What was just one bite going to hurt?<br />
<br />
“NO!” Estella slapped her palms against her temples, trying to jar the temptation from her thoughts.<br />
<br />
The hinges finally lost their battle with Estella’s wayward spell, throwing the door from its twisted frame and into the street where it crashed into a passing cab and lodged itself in the passenger-side door. Estella found enough control of her new abilities to jump into what Xander had referred to in the past as “overdrive”, the sangsuigan ability that allowed them to move faster than the human eye could register. She moved down the road in a powerful-yet-energy-draining sprint, ducking and weaving between the seemingly time-frozen crowds. Her effort to distance herself from them, however, took its toll on her starved body. Unable to fuel the process any further, her exhaustion grew more intense, and though she fought to stay in overdrive—fought to get as far away as possible—the people around her appeared to move more quickly as her speed began to wane.<br />
<br />
With her body drained, she fell out of overdrive and crashed to the sidewalk in the middle of a crowd. Startled by the spectacle of a young lady falling out of nowhere, the onlookers gawked while several who proved more kind than astonished closed in around her to help her up.<br />
<br />
“Oh my god! Are you alright?”<br />
<br />
“Did you break anything?”<br />
<br />
“I think she’s bleeding!”<br />
<br />
“Should we call an ambulance?”<br />
<br />
Estella’s mind reeled as she scrambled away from one person only to collide with another; her fangs throbbing with the promise of blood. Her mind roared as the hunger pushed her to cross the unspeakable threshold. They were all around her! Potential prey! They were coming to her! There was no need to even hunt!<br />
<br />
Take it.<br />
<br />
Take it!<br />
<br />
TAKE IT!!<br />
<br />
“NO!”<br />
<br />
Estella thrashed to try and clear her mind as well as the people around her. Still dizzy, she pulled herself up and looked for a gap in the crowd to break through, holding her murderous instincts at bay despite every fiber of her being pushing her to remedy her pain and exhaustion.<br />
<br />
She sensed somebody approaching her from behind and she spun, pushing them away. Miscalculating the act and her superhuman strength, the large man was thrown off his feet and sailed into the street. An SUV leaned on its horn and screeched to a stop a short distance from him. The shocked onlookers let out a collective sigh of relief when they saw that their fellow Samaritan hadn’t been run over, but his survival was not yet insured.<br />
<br />
He’d scraped his palms…<br />
<br />
The scent!<br />
<br />
Estella groaned and keeled over, throwing up all over the pavement before turning and scampering off, away from the gasping and yelling crowd.<br />
<br />
“What the hell’s the matter with her?”<br />
<br />
“She almost killed him!”<br />
<br />
“Hey! Get back—”<br />
<br />
But she didn’t go back, didn’t even look back. Instead she ran, clutching her burning stomach and pushing through anything that was in her way. By some strange miracle she made it to the bridge and the dank crate beneath it where she’d been sleeping in for the past few nights.<br />
<br />
Nobody ever came there; it was swampy and cold and dark.<br />
<br />
The perfect place for a monster.<br />
<br />
The perfect place for her.<br />
<br />
She’d been there for barely half a minute before a passing rat fell victim to her hunger and she tore into its heaving belly, ignoring the sharp little teeth that felt like a minor itch as they bore into her hand. The bites stopped quickly as she drained the creature, and as it uttered its final, pained squeaks she heaved forward, dropping it and coughing what little blood remained in her mouth all over the ground. The rodent’s small body still twitched with lingering spasms, and Estella felt the first wells of scalding tears grow in her eyes at the sight of its suffering.<br />
<br />
“Sorry…” she sobbed, “I’m so sorry…”<br />
<br />
The display of pain and death was soon over, but the memory carried on in her mind. Over and over she saw it and all others like it that her monstrous desires had destroyed. So much pain and suffering and death. All at her own hands. All to keep herself alive.<br />
<br />
Just to have another day and another chance to ruin another life.<br />
<br />
But, for the time being, the pain was gone, and her fangs receded back into the hollow shafts in her gums where her canines had once been.<br />
<br />
Waiting for when they could torture her next.<br />
<br />
Finally able to rest, she crawled—unable to get to her feet—to the entrance of the wooden shipping crate and wrapped the ripped and dirty blanket that she had found in nearby motel’s dumpster around her to keep the rising sun from touching her. Once protected from the outside world, she clenched her eyes and tried to block out the roar of the growing morning traffic overhead. Behind her eyelids, the welling tears that had blurred the blood-filled world continued to spill and she wrapped her arm around her face to stifle herself.<br />
<br />
“Xander…” she sobbed, choking on the name “… how could you let this happen?” Her body shook with her growing rage, “GOD DAMN YOU, XANDER!”<br />
<br />
Her vampiric strength coupled with her magic took its toll on the crate, which finally burst into fragments and left her exposed. She lay there for a long moment, trying to decide if it was worth it to finally let the sun take her. However, as tempting as the notion of freedom was, the fear of what lay beyond was too powerful to humor it for long, and she rose to her feet, pulling the blanket over her head like a shawl.<br />
<br />
With no destination in mind, she cast her sights towards the West—away from the source of the impending morning light—and started off for her next shelter.<br />
<br />
Wherever that may be…<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXi9hEZ1I9UoKoUAThku-Qu821yvJkimiVaCdg_Sjp_EGqj66pdav_Qpl0DEfzkgQyZo4KjLSPuLcufeD-kmYewiTGKiK94RaJfC7CCDeCz5uXWAxj_5_8gbwT8YGDI0fj3whXRPGXbjBG/s1600/Watching+the+sunset+&+awaiting+the+darkness.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXi9hEZ1I9UoKoUAThku-Qu821yvJkimiVaCdg_Sjp_EGqj66pdav_Qpl0DEfzkgQyZo4KjLSPuLcufeD-kmYewiTGKiK94RaJfC7CCDeCz5uXWAxj_5_8gbwT8YGDI0fj3whXRPGXbjBG/s320/Watching+the+sunset+&+awaiting+the+darkness.JPG" width="320" /></a><b><span style="font-size: large;">Author Links:</span></b><br />
Facebook:<br />
<a href="https://www.facebook.com/Nathan.Squiers">https://www.facebook.com/Nathan.Squiers</a><br />
<a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Legion-of-Nathan-Squiers/329543403767153">https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Legion-of-Nathan-Squiers/329543403767153</a><br />
<a href="https://www.facebook.com/CrimsonShadow.Legacy">https://www.facebook.com/CrimsonShadow.Legacy</a><br />
Goodreads:<br />
<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/Literary_Dark_Emperor">http://www.goodreads.com/Literary_Dark_Emperor</a><br />
Amazon:<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Nathan-Squiers/e/B006N3KCMY/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_4?qid=1373715264&sr=8-4">http://www.amazon.com/Nathan-Squiers/e/B006N3KCMY/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_4?qid=1373715264&sr=8-4</a><br />
<br />
Books can be found at Amazon:<br />
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And SmashWords:<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03654099780429487821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167224719486025568.post-50349015847540623502013-07-25T10:00:00.000-05:002013-07-25T10:00:03.232-05:00Nathan Squiers #2: Crimson Shadow: Sins of the Father Excerpt<span style="font-size: large;">The excerpts being featured today are from Nathan Squiers' Crimson Shadow Series. The first was from <a href="http://paranormallounge.blogspot.com/2013/07/nathan-squiers-1-crimson-shadow-noir.html" target="_blank">Book One, Noir</a>. This excerpt is from Sins of the Father and later, a NEVER before seen, first look at the third book in the series, Love You to Death will be published at 1 p.m. central time!</span><br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgohfMLhe1v_cF-BPBsvdp6xnUWOPLZDjgRO5OSZJfzQp7Az2fYcEgb0i0iAvjuOeg5w8bFEHpZf69YxuhU9N0-Ru6zk2nfq-D_VM2j1Hf25c5l5EwA7bNXKgZKye9XwATcyLjoR8Zs1UHn/s1600/CS2CoverKindle+(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgohfMLhe1v_cF-BPBsvdp6xnUWOPLZDjgRO5OSZJfzQp7Az2fYcEgb0i0iAvjuOeg5w8bFEHpZf69YxuhU9N0-Ru6zk2nfq-D_VM2j1Hf25c5l5EwA7bNXKgZKye9XwATcyLjoR8Zs1UHn/s400/CS2CoverKindle+(1).jpg" width="273" /></a><b><span style="font-size: large;">Sins of the Father</span></b><br />
<br />
It was nearly midnight when Xander got to Estella’s. His blood was still boiling from the encounter and he could feel his body shaking from the lingering adrenaline still coursing in his veins. This and his lingering panic distracted him and his jump onto the roof was overshot and clumsy and he cursed to himself as he had to work against fall over the edge.<br />
<br />
Her window was closed in response to the chilled night air—proof enough that she hadn’t “seen” or predicted his arrival—and he smiled. He’d been hoping to surprise her with the gift, and if she’d been expecting him it might have meant she had cast her sight spell on him and was already aware it.<br />
<br />
He carefully opened the window, cringing at the random creaks and groans that the old woodwork gave as it slid upward. Finally, he had it open far enough and he slinked in with all the swiftness and stealth of his kind.<br />
<br />
Estella was, thankfully, still asleep; her slowed heart rate and steady breathing during his entrance confirming that she wasn’t just pretending. He smiled at the scene as he approached and pulled the small box from his pocket and put it on the bedside counter. After a moment of thought he carefully flipped open the lid and turned it towards her so that it would be the first thing she saw. Then, satisfied that the gift was properly displayed, he turned away and headed back towards the window. He was halfway there when a soft, panicked moan escaped his sleeping lover’s lips and he turned to look at her outlined form as it momentarily pitched in the bed, rolling over once, then again, then once more. She whimpered again, this time sounding defeated, and finally came to rest on her back.<br />
<br />
Xander frowned at this and turned back again, retrieving her desk chair and setting it beside the bed. Settling in beside her, he reached his left hand out and rested it on an exposed portion of Estella’s forearm and giving it a gentle squeeze so that she’d be subconsciously aware that she wasn’t alone. Though he very rarely used physical contact as a means of energy transference—feeling that it was easier and to do so from a distance with his aura—even he had to admit that, in a case like this, it served his purposes well. It was one of the first lessons he’d learned after being introduced to the world of mythos: the ability for aurics to physically pull energy from a victim through their writing hand or push a controlled amount of their own energy into a recipient with their opposite hand. In Xander’s case, his right hand could drain life-energy if he so desired, but with his left…<br />
<br />
Gathering a bundle of positive energies, he allowed them to flow out of him and into her and he watched with a satisfied smile as her distressed features melted away into calmness. Her aura brightened with the donation and rippled with fresh vitality as a gentle sigh issued past her lips and her hand moved and came to rest on his own, clasping it tightly. Despite this calculated gesture, she remained asleep and Xander, realizing that he neither could nor wanted to leave, gently shifted from the chair to her side in the bed.<br />
<br />
“You’ve always been right about me,” he whispered to her, “even when we were little, you were so… so damn perfect! And, even then, I knew that there would never be anybody or anything in my life that made the pieces fall into place just the way they needed to. Even when that…” he inhaled, feeling a tear welling in his blood-stained right eye, “… when that monster was with us—waiting at home every fucking day to torture and torment me—I was somehow able to forget about how, sooner or later, I’d have to go back to it; somehow able to not be afraid. And all… all because you—you and your damnable happiness; that beautiful light that you’ve always just offered to anybody in need of it—were nice enough to not see me like everybody else did. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Estella. I couldn’t try to pretend that there was something sharing that list. Hell, I’d be fucking dead for sure if it wasn’t for you!” he shook his head and sighed, carefully laying his thumb on her cheek. “That night—when we were finally reunited and you made me promise that I’d come back after I killed Kyle—I…” he bit his lip, “… I’d lied to you. I’d lied, and I’m sorry for that; I wish I could take it back now, but… I don’t know if I could. I’d spent so many nights for so many years hoping to escape all the pain. I’d even lost you, and I know that was my own fault… but I had nothing left to live for.” He fought the growing knot in his throat as another well of tears splashed from his eyes. “And then you…”—he shook his head—“you fucking made me promise to come back; you made me! You made me… and, even after so many years of being out of your light—without that intoxicating joy of yours—you made me want to live again!” an inhale snagged as a sob fought to get out and he clenched his eyes to keep from falling into a coughing fit. As he steadied his breathing and regained himself, he brought his gaze back to his sleeping lover. “I’m not smart enough to know how to tell you how much I love you, Estella, and I don’t think I ever will be. No matter how many added years I have to try.” He smiled, “So let me do the next best thing for you, Estella: let me always be there to show you—even if I can’t say it right—how much you’ve always meant to me. Let me spend this new life not fighting to end it, but fighting to make it something great; something that I can dedicate to you for giving me that chance. Let me dedicate my life to proving how much I love you.”<br />
<br />
He sighed as he finished, staring into Estella’s serene face. Even though his rant hadn’t awoken her, her aura seemed brighter than it had before he’d spoken, and, as he traced her angelic features with his superhuman eyes, he saw a faint smile creep over her porcelain features.<br />
<br />
Taking this as all the response he needed, he gently pulled her into him and closed his eyes.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuYL6pnIOLrwM9nmMsO5nz7hqhEkVqvTuIVB0Csqniuj5Ge3RObO0tppC4sEH8SkFCOdKOOau4jOdZ0Q_JERnfv1UUfIrziM1ZZK_M8sZOzmbtneEWYxPBtAraW47kcksprbNKb9IKvhUW/s1600/Watching+the+sunset+&+awaiting+the+darkness.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuYL6pnIOLrwM9nmMsO5nz7hqhEkVqvTuIVB0Csqniuj5Ge3RObO0tppC4sEH8SkFCOdKOOau4jOdZ0Q_JERnfv1UUfIrziM1ZZK_M8sZOzmbtneEWYxPBtAraW47kcksprbNKb9IKvhUW/s320/Watching+the+sunset+&+awaiting+the+darkness.JPG" width="320" /></a><b><span style="font-size: large;">Author Links:</span></b><br />
Facebook:<br />
<a href="https://www.facebook.com/Nathan.Squiers">https://www.facebook.com/Nathan.Squiers</a><br />
<a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Legion-of-Nathan-Squiers/329543403767153">https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Legion-of-Nathan-Squiers/329543403767153</a><br />
<a href="https://www.facebook.com/CrimsonShadow.Legacy">https://www.facebook.com/CrimsonShadow.Legacy</a><br />
Goodreads:<br />
<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/Literary_Dark_Emperor">http://www.goodreads.com/Literary_Dark_Emperor</a><br />
Amazon:<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Nathan-Squiers/e/B006N3KCMY/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_4?qid=1373715264&sr=8-4">http://www.amazon.com/Nathan-Squiers/e/B006N3KCMY/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_4?qid=1373715264&sr=8-4</a><br />
<br />
Books can be found at Amazon:<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03654099780429487821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167224719486025568.post-7660066027811927672013-07-25T00:00:00.000-05:002013-07-25T00:00:07.950-05:00Nathan Squiers #1: Crimson Shadow: Noir Excerpt<span style="font-size: large;">The excerpts being featured today are from Nathan Squiers' Crimson Shadow Series. The first is from Book One, Noir. An excerpt from Sins of the Father will be published on this blog later today at 10 a.m. (Central) and then a NEVER before seen, first look at the third book in the series, Love You to Death at 1 p.m.!</span><br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdMrUpOou13XqvxgvXYznY5aWaBAr0n44VNl62qfboUaiEE0zhu1QisNLrbjWTF0FzRylM8R0y0z6G_-mFf-Eoq43znuRVE0hUi2FZmparrywZrToZefzsV6tlySJp14Y2yPTuskExTPYM/s1600/New+CS+Noir+Kindle+front+(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdMrUpOou13XqvxgvXYznY5aWaBAr0n44VNl62qfboUaiEE0zhu1QisNLrbjWTF0FzRylM8R0y0z6G_-mFf-Eoq43znuRVE0hUi2FZmparrywZrToZefzsV6tlySJp14Y2yPTuskExTPYM/s400/New+CS+Noir+Kindle+front+(1).jpg" width="250" /></a><b><span style="font-size: large;">Noir</span></b><br />
<br />
The night air was cool and refreshing as Xander jumped into overdrive and headed towards Estella's old house, hoping she hadn't moved since his last visit. It took only several seconds to travel the fifteen-or-so miles to her house, which was several seconds that he could have done without; the anxiety to finally come face-to-face with his old friend and apologize for all of his wrongdoings had been eating away at his insides since he'd first heard that she'd been asking about him.<br />
<br />
When, at last, he stood in front of the house, he was reassured by the slightly peeled letters on the mailbox that still read "EDASH". As he approached the entrance, he suddenly realized that he didn't want to knock and go through the discomfort of dealing with her parents and, instead, decided to make his entrance through the attic window—what he hoped was still Estella's bedroom.<br />
<br />
Backing away to get a better view of his intended entrance he noticed that not only were the lights already on in her room but that the window was open as well. For a moment he entertained the notion that his old friend had been keeping her bedroom cool, but the nagging fact that it was early winter and too cold for comfort refused to let him hold on to that belief for very long. Left with no other truth other than the obvious, he took in a deep breath and tried to calm his racing heart.<br />
<br />
It was an easy jump to the roof, though landing on the sharply angled roof proved a bit awkward. He teetered, the sharp slope threatening to drop him back over the edge, before he finally found his footing and began walking towards the window. Taking his time, hoping to elude—if no one but himself—of any views of him being clumsy, he dared his first peek into the room when the voice emerged:<br />
<br />
"Come in, Xander. It's safe."<br />
<br />
He paused as he was not only welcomed inside, but assured of the absence of any third parties. Slowly, he ducked his head and poked it inside. Estella sat on her bed at the other side of the room, which housed a combination of posters and several bookshelves crammed with an ample collection. His eyes quickly scanned a few of the titles, not surprised to find that many of them were somehow magical in nature.<br />
<br />
He had not been completely shocked when Stan warned him that she had become a witch in the time they had spent apart, but, seeing her research material, he couldn’t help but realize just how well versed she had become. Finally, his wandering eyes paused, having taken in every detail of the room around him and leaving him with no other option than to finally make eye contact.<br />
<br />
"Just on time." Her voice was soft and timid; as though she was afraid of startling a wild animal, "And you don't have to worry about Mom and Dad… they went to bed a few hours ago."<br />
<br />
Xander took in a sharp inhale and nodded and looked up at her and her bright-orange aura shifted and she cringed and he frowned; she expected him to yell at her. Instead, he pulled a nearby office chair to himself and sat down, leaning forward and exhaling.<br />
<br />
"I'm sorry." She said, "I'll get out of your head now. And I'm sorry about before."<br />
<br />
Xander looked at her, "Before?"<br />
<br />
She nodded and blushed as she realized that he didn't know what she was referring to, "About entering your mind… more than once." She smiled faintly and shrugged her left shoulder, "I guess you never picked up on the spells when I was casting them." She said the last part with a twinge of pride.<br />
Xander smiled at her. She had always been so sweet and innocent and he was glad to see that time hadn't tarnished that quality.<br />
<br />
"It's… good to see you again. I will admit, though, I was surprised to hear that you'd been asking about me." he finally said.<br />
<br />
Estella smiled when she heard that and nodded, then suddenly grew still and laced her fingers together in her lap as if she'd done something wrong, "You… you've been gone for a while now.” She looked down sadly, "The principal told me you'd moved away after the fire, but he got angry when I asked him where you'd gone." She smiled, "He always gets angry when someone catches him in a lie. It took forever to finally get Stan to tell me anything."<br />
<br />
He looked up at her again, taking in for the first time how much she had changed. Her hair was still raven-black, though she had let it grow out and her eyes still shown with the same bright blue. As he looked more deeply, he couldn't help but notice that her pale face was still somewhat young-looking, though time appeared to have hardened it some in the course of her life and giving the appearance of a marble statue. He was surprised that someone so beautiful would be so shy.<br />
<br />
"Why did you ask about me?" he interrupted his own thoughts.<br />
<br />
She blushed again, "I… never stopped caring about you, Xander. One day you just sort of cut away from the world and we fell apart. I didn't like it, but there wasn't much I could seem to do. Every time I—"<br />
<br />
"I'm sorry." Xander frowned looking down, seeing where the conversation was leading. He didn't want to be reminded of his atrocities towards someone who had been such a good friend over the years.<br />
<br />
A far better friend than he'd ever been.<br />
<br />
She sat quietly and nodded, smiling slightly, "Can I ask what happened? Why you disappeared and what's happened to your…" she looked down.<br />
<br />
Xander knew what she was thinking and raised a hand to his face, "My eye?" He chuckled and nodded. She was owed an explanation, "I suppose I should start from the beginning."<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhda6qQjAnXCcFfZWS3fySW_82laSyVG1kX4WpW2P5Igrpb7BeY1s1mQSQzzljMnOS9K9uOio0IKmtZxtTMNamcEtE_c0epDiuyeWWv1t9RtgIvR3ksOiILMdnPOtMLJcpk8mhF6YRs19vv/s1600/Watching+the+sunset+&+awaiting+the+darkness.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhda6qQjAnXCcFfZWS3fySW_82laSyVG1kX4WpW2P5Igrpb7BeY1s1mQSQzzljMnOS9K9uOio0IKmtZxtTMNamcEtE_c0epDiuyeWWv1t9RtgIvR3ksOiILMdnPOtMLJcpk8mhF6YRs19vv/s320/Watching+the+sunset+&+awaiting+the+darkness.JPG" width="320" /></a><b><span style="font-size: large;">Author Links:</span></b><br />
Facebook:<br />
<a href="https://www.facebook.com/Nathan.Squiers">https://www.facebook.com/Nathan.Squiers</a><br />
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<a href="https://www.facebook.com/CrimsonShadow.Legacy">https://www.facebook.com/CrimsonShadow.Legacy</a><br />
Goodreads:<br />
<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/Literary_Dark_Emperor">http://www.goodreads.com/Literary_Dark_Emperor</a><br />
Amazon:<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Nathan-Squiers/e/B006N3KCMY/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_4?qid=1373715264&sr=8-4">http://www.amazon.com/Nathan-Squiers/e/B006N3KCMY/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_4?qid=1373715264&sr=8-4</a><br />
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Books can be found at Amazon:<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03654099780429487821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167224719486025568.post-81844195812136937172013-07-24T13:00:00.000-05:002013-07-24T13:00:01.672-05:00M.L. Weaver #3: The Lightness of Dust: Chapter 11 Excerpt<span style="font-size: large;">Here is the final of three excerpts today from M.L. Weaver's Lightness of Dust!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">If you'd like to read the excerpts from <a href="http://paranormallounge.blogspot.com/2013/07/ml-weaver-1-lightness-of-dust-chapter-1.html" target="_blank">Chapter One</a>, and <a href="http://paranormallounge.blogspot.com/2013/07/ml-weaver-2-lightness-of-dust-chapter-8.html" target="_blank">Chapter Eight</a> head there first!</span><br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b>
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Chapter 11: Underestimation</span></b><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdHxKR8QKqD09FbucEKRJJt9NlxB4yqCW_AbxviLhjPuWCqBxYhgt_DyzFnW4JEUSQzYVvuf-Ccoog3BIkL_vnVWyrtOZklo3G3XmBvPgGrFT2teO7-PLvIPVgiIThTyVFfTmOI_-GGlx_/s1600/New+Lightness+Cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdHxKR8QKqD09FbucEKRJJt9NlxB4yqCW_AbxviLhjPuWCqBxYhgt_DyzFnW4JEUSQzYVvuf-Ccoog3BIkL_vnVWyrtOZklo3G3XmBvPgGrFT2teO7-PLvIPVgiIThTyVFfTmOI_-GGlx_/s400/New+Lightness+Cover.jpg" width="250" /></a></div>
By focusing only on Amanda’s paperwork Jake had the necessary approvals to put her to work the next Tuesday. She was, he thought, a godsend. In less than a week she decided to research pathological mineralization. Which disease, she didn’t know. Kidney stones, maybe, or atherosclerosis. Even FOP, a disease that Jake found both fascinating and hellishly cruel. In any case, as a subfield of biomineralization her research on the pathological would require instrumentation that he had already researched but not yet ordered.<br />
<br />
“Here you go,” he said, handing her a list.<br />
<br />
Amanda read through the page quickly. “What is your budget?”<br />
<br />
Jake hesitated, but she had to know if she was going to help. He told her.<br />
<br />
She nodded and skimmed the page again. “Your funds are insufficient.”<br />
<br />
“I know. I’ve requested supplemental funds but they haven’t come through yet.” He hoped the additional money would be approved. If he had to make do with what he already had he would be forced to truncate the list severely. His ability to do research would be crippled from the beginning. “Education budgets are a bloodbath right now.”<br />
<br />
Amanda nodded. “I will take care of it.” Her confidence amused him but he let any comment pass unsaid. There was something else he needed to deal with.<br />
<br />
“Amanda…here’s a little rule I have. Well, it’s actually someone else’s rule. I borrowed it from my Latin professor. Undergrads call me ‘Professor.’ Grad students call me ‘Jake.’ Okay? Over the next few years it’ll save you tens of thousands of syllables.”<br />
<br />
“Okay…Jake. We will meet this afternoon after I have a chance to review this,” she said, indicating the list.<br />
<br />
By the end of the next day she had selected and ordered, with Jake’s approval, optical and atomic-force microscopes, chemicals, glassware, and various other laboratory supplies. Jake was impressed, especially so by the shrewdness with which Amanda had shopped. He’d priced much of the equipment himself and found that he could barely afford the basics with the start-up grant provided by the university. He hadn’t expected a raw student to do any better than he had, though he also hadn’t looked into used equipment. Amanda, however, had found more equipment, with more features, at better prices. So much better, in fact, that after the orders were placed Jake would still have a comfortable cushion of funds. Not a lot, but enough to cover a research assistantship for Amanda for six months if he had to. Since students were guaranteed teaching assistantships during their first two years, though, he didn’t expect to use the money for a while.<br />
It took another two weeks for boxes to start appearing in the lab, but even Amanda couldn’t speed up shipping. Jake entered the lab one morning to find her carefully unpacking boxes of chemicals and dividing their contents between cupboards and flame cabinets along the south wall.<br />
<br />
“Chemicals first?” he asked, intrigued by the fact that the microscopes lay nestled in unopened boxes under a table.<br />
<br />
“Mmm-hmm,” she replied. The box cutter between her teeth prevented a more detailed response. She set it on the floor and stood holding two jars of calcium chloride, which she placed in a cupboard. “I need the chemicals to use the AFM, and I need the supplies to use the chemicals. So the…fun… part comes last.”<br />
<br />
It was, Jake thought, entirely logical, even if it wasn’t helping to sustain his kid-on-Christmas-morning excitement about getting the equipment in the first place. “Need some help?”<br />
<br />
“Sure. Do you want to hook up the Milli-Q?” She referred to the filtration system that would produce the ultra-clean water necessary for her work.<br />
<br />
By the time Jake figured out how to connect the system and had installed it, Amanda had the supplies sorted out and was unpacking the microscope. He picked up the base and examined it. “A Nanoscope III! Where did you find this?” he exclaimed. “It’s the same model I used in school! Doesn’t have a lot of the features that newer ones do, but it’s a great machine.”<br />
<br />
Amanda bounced on her toes. “It is not just the same model, Jake. It is the same microscope! Your old professor has no one to use it, so he gave us a great price.”<br />
<br />
Together they assembled the base, scanner, and optical head and connected them to a computer. “Would you like to calibrate it?” she offered.<br />
<br />
Jake was tempted but knew that Amanda should be the one to get it running. Figuring out its eccentricities for herself would make her life a lot easier later on. “No, you go ahead. I need to apply for some grants.”<br />
Before the end of the month she was running experiments and collecting marvelous datasets. Secretly impressed, Jake wished that his first year of grad school had been so easy. It had taken almost nine months for him to produce real images instead of tip artifacts. Looking back, he had to admit to himself that his advisors had been more patient than he’d had any right to expect; he had been so sure that the images were real.<br />
<br />
His only source of dissatisfaction with Amanda was her inability to find time to talk to other potential recruits. Nothing held as much currency with students as the opinions, whether positive or not, of other students. That, plus she was hard to find sometimes. Even considering her teaching duties, she was gone from the lab so often, and for so long, that Jake found himself secretly examining her imaging logs and data files. Everything seemed in order, though, and Jake had to admit that whatever she was up to wasn’t interfering with her work.<br />
<br />
Amanda quickly claimed his lab as her own. In fact, she began to display signs that, in her mind, at least, they had passed from a purely academic relationship to friendship. Every once in a while she brought him a soda, or packed a big lunch to share, claiming ‘leftovers’ as an excuse even though the only food he ever saw her eat otherwise was packaged and reheated in the microwave. While sharing leftovers on a wet winter-quarter day, Amanda handed him a flash drive.<br />
<br />
He picked it up. “What’s this?”<br />
<br />
She swallowed another bite. “My paper.”<br />
<br />
“Your paper.” Jake didn’t believe it. “You’ve only been working on this project for a few months.”<br />
<br />
“Yes.”<br />
<br />
“Don’t you think it’s a little too soon?”<br />
<br />
“How long, exactly, should it take? I can bring it back to you then, if you like.” She looked at him without the slightest hint of sarcasm or guile. So innocently, in fact, that Jake thought she might be serious.<br />
<br />
“All right,” he said. Tread lightly…either she’s going to come out of this looking like an idiot, or I am. “Tell you what. I’ll read this over, and tomorrow at lunch we can discuss it. Be warned, though. If I don’t think your conclusions are solid, or that you don’t have enough data to back them up, we don’t even edit this.”<br />
<br />
“And when you find that it is ready?” There was no challenge in her words, only a firm self-assurance.<br />
<br />
“Then we talk about the next direction for your research. And I buy lunch tomorrow,” he replied, not really expecting he would have to do so. The next day, however, found them ordering at the Silo Pub from a young man wearing black slacks with a vest over a ruffled white shirt.<br />
<br />
“I take it my paper meets with your approval,” she said.<br />
<br />
“More or less. I have a few small changes for you to make, but overall it’s a nice piece of writing. They’re on the drive.” He handed it to her. There wasn’t really anything that needed to be changed, but Jake had spent the night thinking about an exchange he’d had with Jim while writing his own first paper. Jim had given Jake some changes to make, and less than an hour later Jake had been back in Jim’s office.<br />
<br />
Jake stood in the doorway while Jim opened the document, read a few sentences, and closed it again.<br />
<br />
“I’m not going to read the rest of it.” Jim handed the disc back to Jake.<br />
<br />
“Why not?” Jake didn’t understand.<br />
<br />
“You didn’t make the change I wanted in the first sentence. Go try again.<br />
<br />
The humiliation of that experience had instilled in Jake the importance not of getting things right, but of what one could learn from getting them wrong. Amanda deserved the same lesson, so he’d come up with a few things for her to rewrite.<br />
<br />
Amanda slipped the drive into her knapsack. “I will correct them this afternoon.”<br />
<br />
Their waiter returned. “Chicken Marrakesh?” Jake raised his hand to indicate that it was for him. “And the mushroom-and-tofu sandwich must be for you,” the young man said to Amanda with a smile.<br />
<br />
“I’ll have another Sudwerk Marzen.” Jake slid an empty bottle to the table’s edge.<br />
<br />
“Would you bring me a glass of wine?” Amanda asked.<br />
<br />
The waiter nodded. “Of course. What would you like?<br />
<br />
“Surprise me. Something red.”<br />
<br />
When they were alone again Jake teased, “Are you even old enough to drink?”<br />
<br />
“Without a doubt.” She quickly changed the subject. “I know where I want to take my research next,” she said between bites.<br />
<br />
“That’s great. Where?”<br />
<br />
“Well, not the exact questions that I want to answer, but in general.” She took another bite and chewed slowly while Jake waited.<br />
<br />
“Well?”<br />
<br />
“Oh.” She seemed surprised by his prompt for more information. “I have spoken with Professor Matheson in Anthropology and Archaeology. Do you know him?”<br />
<br />
Jake did not. He’d barely met everyone in his own department. He was nearly overwhelmed already with proposals for joint research to review and requests for him to join this committee or that. “After tenure,” he would reply to such invitations, silently blessing his own advisor. Jake had been dubious when Jim told him that this was the best way to avoid wasting on committees time better spent on meeting tenure requirements. He’d been sure that insisting tenure precede committee work was certain to cost him goodwill, if not tenure itself. Surprisingly, no one took it particularly badly. Even Bill, the mentor assigned by the department to help Jake navigate through his first year, had not brought up his refusals when laying out the plan for Jake’s path to tenure.<br />
<br />
“The past few years Matheson has excavated on the coast of southern Turkey,” Amanda continued. “He has boxes and boxes stuffed with artifacts from a newly discovered settlement. He says it was a port city of some size and importance, but that he can find no historical references to any significant population in that area. In any source!”<br />
<br />
“Interesting,” Jake said. He tried to sound disinterested.<br />
<br />
“Fascinating, is more like it! Matheson says it was destroyed in some great cataclysm. A tsunami, or an earthquake!”<br />
<br />
Jake found her enthusiasm infectious but naive. He wondered if she had any idea how complicated archaeological science could be. He, too, had once dreamed of doing the same kind of work that she now proposed. Working with fragments, hoping that just one out of hundreds might contain some organic residue, or that the chemical profile of a metal tool could be matched to a specific geographical area? And there was another problem.<br />
<br />
“He says there is evidence of a harbor. They have not been able to go underwater, yet. The political situation has been getting worse in light of the war. Western researchers have had a lot of trouble getting paperwork approved. They may not be able to go back next summer, if ever.” Words spilled out of her in a torrent, and her eyes stared through him as though she saw something wonderful in the distance. “And the best thing…they found copper. Tools, jewelry, artwork. Copper everywhere, at least by ancient standards, but no evidence of smelting. There is no evidence for mining or refining for a thousand miles. And even there, not on the necessary scale.”<br />
<br />
“Amanda, I admire your enthusiasm,” Jake interrupted her. As fascinating as it was, there was no way this could work. “But I really don’t have a lot of the equipment for that kind of work. Any of it, for that matter. <br />
I’m sorry, but…” He didn’t know what else to say. He braced for her reaction.<br />
<br />
“Just buy it.”<br />
<br />
Jake squelched his irritation with effort. “I don’t think you understand. I don’t have the instrumentation you’d need. I don’t have the money to buy it, either.”<br />
<br />
“Buy it. You have the budget now.”<br />
<br />
“In fact, I don’t have the money to buy the equipment, because I spent most of it on equipment for your research. Research you selected.” His voice rose as he punctuated you and your with his finger. He stared at her. Each bite she took stuck in his own throat. She calmly watched his eyes as she ate.<br />
<br />
“There is no problem,” she finally said. “We can still buy it. And it is your research, too.”<br />
<br />
“No, it’s not!” He felt his patience rapidly slipping out of his grasp. “My research is in crystal growth. Goddammit!” Jake rose. “You…”<br />
<br />
“Sit down, Professor.” Amanda pointed firmly at his chair. He obeyed. “Matheson has extensive skeletal remains boxed up in his lab; we can examine some of them, too. We may discover evidence of gout.”<br />
Jake’s irritation began to be supplanted by scientific curiosity. Finding uric acid crystals in ancient bone fragments would make for an exciting paper, indeed.<br />
<br />
“Matheson is willing to pay for some of the equipment. Plus, I got a grant.”<br />
Jake sat. “A grant.”<br />
<br />
“Mmm-hmm.” She swallowed the last of her sandwich. Jake thought she looked eerily like a viper swallowing a bite of apple, tempting him to taste.<br />
<br />
“How?”<br />
<br />
“Easily. I filled out some forms. Described my research. Asked for money. All in an application packet. Someone read it. Liked it. Sent money. Something like that, I guess. The money is in an account with the department. You should have been notified by now…”<br />
<br />
“You’re a student. You can’t possibly have gotten enough money for this!” Jake had spent half a year writing proposals. Six months of his life begging every government department and private foundation he could think of with nothing to show for it. He knew that pent-up frustration over his failure colored his judgment but at this point he didn’t care. Jake would win this; when he did he would bow to his fury and throw this impudent girl out of his group. “Or have accelerators for neutron analysis dropped in price recently?” That would show her!<br />
<br />
Amanda stared at Jake with what seemed to him a mixture of contempt and pity, with just a salting of malice. <br />
“What we can purchase, we purchase. Other things, like neutron-bombardment, we can pay for. There are at least two facilities with the capability I require within a hundred miles.” She smiled at him. “Never underestimate me, Jake. I will tell Matheson to expect your call. Get in touch with him.”<br />
<br />
Amanda tried again to drink the merlot but grimaced and wiped it from her lips with a napkin instead. “Thanks for lunch.” <br />
<br />
Jake stared after her through the empty doorway for a while, numbed by the feeling that he, Professor, Principal Investigator, had just lost control of his own lab to a first-year graduate student. The restaurant began to clear out. Jake nursed his beer until it was warm and flat then gulped it down. He wanted to go home. No. He needed to.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03654099780429487821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167224719486025568.post-70598838929755179562013-07-24T10:00:00.000-05:002013-07-24T10:00:06.518-05:00M.L. Weaver #2: The Lightness of Dust: Chapter 8 Excerpt<span style="font-size: large;">Here is the second of three excerpts today from M.L. Weaver's Lightness of Dust! Come back at 1 p.m. for the third!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">If you'd like to read the excerpt from <a href="http://paranormallounge.blogspot.com/2013/07/ml-weaver-1-lightness-of-dust-chapter-1.html" target="_blank">Chapter One</a>, head there first!</span><br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b>
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Chapter 8: Plato’s Rail Pass</span></b><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdHxKR8QKqD09FbucEKRJJt9NlxB4yqCW_AbxviLhjPuWCqBxYhgt_DyzFnW4JEUSQzYVvuf-Ccoog3BIkL_vnVWyrtOZklo3G3XmBvPgGrFT2teO7-PLvIPVgiIThTyVFfTmOI_-GGlx_/s1600/New+Lightness+Cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdHxKR8QKqD09FbucEKRJJt9NlxB4yqCW_AbxviLhjPuWCqBxYhgt_DyzFnW4JEUSQzYVvuf-Ccoog3BIkL_vnVWyrtOZklo3G3XmBvPgGrFT2teO7-PLvIPVgiIThTyVFfTmOI_-GGlx_/s400/New+Lightness+Cover.jpg" width="250" /></a>“Not curious, Sam?”<br />
<br />
“How did you get back in?” Sam looked up sharply. “What are you doing here? I’m sorry, Ms. Ostendorf. Ma’am. What I mean is, the show was one-night-only.” That made sense, he mocked himself. The Persephone was nearly ready; floors glistened in the dim light, rubbish bins awaited the flotsam of the next crowd, and freshly scrubbed windows peered into the city. Only repairs to the furnace, which had begun to blow cold halfway through the evening’s entertainment, remained undone. And then Sam could go home. He kept telling Mr. Craddock that the furnace needed replacing. It wouldn’t even cost all that much, but Craddock always insisted that Sam could do anything he liked to effect repairs to the Persephone, except spend money.<br />
<br />
“My point, exactly, Sam. And if you call me that one more time I plan to have a little conversation with your Mr. Craddock about your manners.”<br />
<br />
Sam backed up. “Call you what, Ma’am?”<br />
<br />
“That, Sam. Ma’am. My name is Lily.” <br />
<br />
Lily smoothed the pale blue fabric of her simple cotton dress and pulled it tighter under the thin rope sash. Her hair, he noticed, no longer trickled down her neck but instead was pushed up under a feathered hat. Absence of jewelry magnified her strange beauty. He thought she expended a great deal of care to appear little different from any other woman he might pass on the street but doubted she would succeed. No, he was absolutely certain that she would not.<br />
<br />
“I ask you again, Sam. Were you not curious?”<br />
<br />
“I don’t follow, Ma’… Lily.” Though he tried, Sam couldn’t guess at the meaning of her question.<br />
<br />
“Earlier I told you that I had to settle some of my things into the Persephone, Sam. Did it not occur to you that a performer might not keep her things in a hall she only planned to play once? One-night-only, as you yourself put it?”<br />
<br />
Sam recalled her saying so, but hadn’t thought about it. Now it was too late. His embarrassment over his behavior prevented the admission.<br />
<br />
“I have decided to stay a while longer. This city warms something inside me. Perhaps the scent of moisture risen from the Sound, or the sound of the tide-driven wavelets echoing across the water.” A smile played at the edges of her lips. “Perhaps it is simply that I have been traveling for so long, Sam, and I need a new place to call home, if only for a while.”<br />
<br />
Lily turned and walked to the middle of the lobby. Four small sofas, each large enough to hold two people (if they knew each other very well), bordered a small table. Lily sank deep into worn leather and gestured at the seat opposite. “Sit. Please.” Sam did, and held his back stiffly straight and pressed the palms of his hands over his knees. His thumbs rubbed his index fingers.<br />
<br />
“Do you know from where I came, Sam?”<br />
<br />
“Europe?”<br />
<br />
“Yes, Sam. But can you guess where, specifically, in Europe?”<br />
<br />
By his silence Sam indicated that he could not.<br />
<br />
“Do you know why I came here, Sam?<br />
<br />
When he again did not reply, she continued. “Then I shall answer your questions with a story.”<br />
<br />
Sam was sure, absolutely sure, that the questions had been hers, and not his, but said nothing.<br />
<br />
“Before I sailed to America, Sam, I traveled, exploring Greece and its islands. So many islands.” Her gaze extended through him. “Did you know that someone once described the Greeks as frogs around a pond? An acquaintance of mine, when I was younger. A most fascinating man, he was, with a command of language that I have never had the pleasure to find in another.”<br />
<br />
Sam didn’t know that; he’d had little schooling. The year his parents died was the year he left school to work for Mr. Craddock. <br />
<br />
“At any rate, I was there. Looking for something, or somewhere, you might say. One night a young couple walked into the cafe where I was dining alone. The young man was tall. Taller than even you, Sam, and far taller than his wife. Dark-haired, both of them, and both of them together beautiful in a way that only the young and in-love can achieve. They walked, hands entwined, through the cafe as though all eyes sought them and time itself might wait. An elderly local couple greeted them with relief. The young man, as it turned out, was their son—the young lady his new American bride. The purpose of their visit was to introduce the young wife to the parents. One purpose, at any rate. Can you guess the other purpose?”<br />
<br />
Sam shook his head.<br />
<br />
Lily removed the pins from her hat and shook her hair. “Gods! How can they stand it?” She tossed the hat to Sam. “Get rid of that, will you? Not right now!” Sam sat. He balanced the hat carefully on his palms.<br />
<br />
“To finish my tale, short as it is…the younger couple presented to the older a painting. “<br />
What a coincidence…I painted a Greek man and his American wife.<br />
<br />
Lily continued. “The old woman wept; the old man embraced his son across the table. Tears escaped his eyes, as well.”<br />
<br />
Sam daydreamed about his own painting. Her story barely registered. He imagined his painting traveling all the way around the world to live in the place where art began. He knew nothing of frogs, or of their ponds, nor why they should be compared with Greeks. But art, he knew, sprang from Greece. The wonder of it! No sooner had the thought occurred to him than his joy was shattered against reality. My painting is here, in Seattle. And will always be.<br />
<br />
Sam didn’t notice that Lily had stopped speaking. She peered at him intently with her head cocked to the side as if listening to a far-away conversation. Sam’s thoughts returned to the fantasy of his painting traveling the world. Lily let him wander for a moment. <br />
<br />
“They were so pleased by the painting, Sam, that the three of them lapsed into Greek, leaving the young woman quite left out of the conversation.”<br />
<br />
Having been left out of quite a few conversations himself, Sam could imagine how the young woman might have felt.<br />
<br />
“Now art was not born in Greece, Sam. But nearby. Somewhere nearby. Having seen a great deal of art in my travels, I just had to know what the fuss was about, so I joined them. Quite bold of me, would you agree?” She didn’t wait for his reply. “And even though I speak Greek nearly fluently, I pretended that I spoke only English. Just my little way of bringing the young woman back into the conversation. What do you think of my story so far, Sam?”<br />
<br />
Sam started. “It’s wonderful.” He wracked his memory for her words.<br />
<br />
“The young man had moved to America to seek his destiny, or so he put it, as though destiny is a thing that one may seek. Or should. I thought at the time, and still do, that he left Greece because of the war. A prescient young man, Sam. Before it ends, this war will engulf the world.” Lily trailed off.<br />
<br />
On more familiar ground now, Sam spoke. “Mr. Craddock says the war won’t get too big, though. Some of the rich folks think it will, and the U.S. will end up fighting, too. But others, those of a mind with Mr. Craddock, say it will peter out. Won’t come to much, because people got most of the fighting out of ‘em in the last war.”<br />
<br />
Lily’s glittering eyes pierced Sam, making him wish he’d had the sense to keep his mouth shut. “Your Mr. Craddock is a damned fool. A damned fool.” The inferno behind her eyes died slowly.<br />
<br />
Why does she always call him “my” Mr. Craddock?<br />
<br />
“The war will be unlike anything the world has known before, Samuel. I know it. I think the young man knew it. I even think his parents knew, but they were too old, too frail, too resigned to escape the storm. To continue, then…the young couple somehow made their way through war-torn Europe to deliver their gift. A bold, foolish journey. They presented a painting depicting the two of them on the day of their wedding. I have no words with which to describe it, though I am confident that there is no need. Somehow the artist, a man of innate talent and beautiful soul, captured the sheer joy these two felt to be wed. Yet at the same time the man’s painted eyes shine with grief that the day could not be shared with his parents. Joy and loss infused the very canvas. I wept a little.”<br />
<br />
A wide smile spread on Sam’s face. “That was my painting…” A thought tickled the edge of his mind—that he’d presented the painting less than a day before—but drifted away.<br />
<br />
“I know. The young couple planned to leave Greece for home soon, within days. They promised that they would return, or would send for the old couple. Everyone agreed that they would be together again; by the time each could to pretend to believe it, the meal was done. Before I left, I inquired as to the name of the artist. Samuel Freeman, they answered, of Seattle, Washington. America. In return, I advised the young couple, in my own way, to spend a few more days than they had planned.<br />
<br />
“Your own way?”<br />
<br />
“I liberated the rail passes from the young man.”<br />
<br />
“Why did you do that? If there’s war, shouldn’t they have gotten out as soon as possible? Why trap them there without tickets?” Sam wondered. “That’s an odd way to repay them.” Her duplicity troubled him, but only for a moment. Likewise, the matter of how the couple could have traveled to the other side of the world in less than a day was a short-lived thought.<br />
<br />
Her eyes relaxed into the distance. “It would not matter, Sam,” she said slowly. “They will never see the old couple again. Not in this life. Or in any other. Whether they stay a week, or a month, or leave on the day we meet, nothing will change.”<br />
<br />
“How do you know?”<br />
<br />
Lily shook her head as though to clear it. “Shall we speak of the reason for my visit, instead?”<br />
<br />
“Alright,” Sam agreed, wondering just what she was leaving out. Why so secretive?<br />
<br />
“I want that you paint my portrait.”<br />
<br />
That was it? The reason she had traveled through a war-ravaged continent, across an ocean, and to the far side of another expanse? To be painted? By him?<br />
<br />
Curiosity bested deference. “Why a portrait of yourself?”<br />
<br />
“To remember, Sam. To mourn. To celebrate. Just…to.”<br />
<br />
“I don’t understand…there must have been dozens of better artists in Europe. Hundreds, even. Why me?” What’s the real reason? Why are you toying with me?<br />
<br />
“You, because it must be, has always been, you.” She leaned to look intently through his eyes. “I am not toying with you, Sam. I want you to paint a portrait of me. You will make me myself again, if only in oil and canvas, and for the me that you create, the world will again open like a portal to itself. Free. As I was in my youth.”<br />
<br />
“You don’t seem so old to me,” he said. It was the truth. Though he couldn’t guess her age—she exuded both youth and great experience—he guessed she was only about as old as he. “Why don’t I paint you as you are now?”<br />
<br />
“Absolutely not. As I was.” She was adamant.<br />
<br />
“How am I supposed to do that? I need a model to work from.” He was beginning to feel frustrated. Why couldn’t she understand that he needed something to work from? I’m a handyman, an artist…but not a magician.<br />
<br />
“I have faith in you, Sam. Shall we start tomorrow night? Say around seven?” She shaped the words as a question. Sam knew they were not.<br />
<br />
“I have to work tomorrow night. Harry Owens and..”<br />
<br />
She cut him off. “..his Famous Royal Hawaiian Orchestra and Stage Revue are playing. Do you truly enjoy vaudeville so much, Sam?”<br />
<br />
“It’s not that. I don’t like vaudeville much, really. But Mr. Craddock…”<br />
<br />
“Will see things my way, Sam. I have a great deal of influence over him. Take tomorrow off. Relax. Take a nap. I will see you at seven.” She paused in the doorway, letting the shuush of rain echo in the lobby. “And Sam? I had the furnace seen to while you were sweeping. Go home. And throw the hat out with the rubbish.”<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03654099780429487821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167224719486025568.post-34077465066147291242013-07-24T00:00:00.000-05:002013-07-24T00:00:03.675-05:00M.L. Weaver #1: The Lightness of Dust: Chapter 1 Excerpt<span style="font-size: large;">Here is the first of three excerpts today from M.L. Weaver's Lightness of Dust! Come back at 10 a.m. and 1 p.m. for the second and third!</span><br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b>
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Chapter 1: Ocean’s Children</span></b><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdHxKR8QKqD09FbucEKRJJt9NlxB4yqCW_AbxviLhjPuWCqBxYhgt_DyzFnW4JEUSQzYVvuf-Ccoog3BIkL_vnVWyrtOZklo3G3XmBvPgGrFT2teO7-PLvIPVgiIThTyVFfTmOI_-GGlx_/s1600/New+Lightness+Cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdHxKR8QKqD09FbucEKRJJt9NlxB4yqCW_AbxviLhjPuWCqBxYhgt_DyzFnW4JEUSQzYVvuf-Ccoog3BIkL_vnVWyrtOZklo3G3XmBvPgGrFT2teO7-PLvIPVgiIThTyVFfTmOI_-GGlx_/s400/New+Lightness+Cover.jpg" width="250" /></a>“I will belong to the gods before you return!” Kere’s voice rose as the weight of Telamon’s words bore down on her, blurring his face through tears. “My father will see it done! I expect him…” Sobs choked her into silence.<br />
<br />
“To wed his daughter to a fisherman? A hired fisherman at that, with no vessel to claim as his own?” Telamon spat the words. Pain twisted his face, and with it, her heart. “Even if the fleet were to sail without me…he would not allow us to marry!”<br />
<br />
Telamon took a faltering breath and continued more softly. “Forgive my harsh words, love, but wealth and power are the only the languages that your father recognizes. And though he has little of either, I have even less.” Kere knew he spoke the truth; she made no reply.<br />
<br />
A spasm drove her fingertips into his flesh until pain forced Telamon to pry her hands away. The man she had loved since before the dawn of her memory rubbed his arm. Blood came away with his palm.<br />
<br />
“My love, I’m sorry!” Kere gestured for him to kneel at the waterline. With the sea lapping over their thighs and swirling her thin dress she poured foaming water from her cupped hand to wash the blood away. Eyes half-closed and vaguely searching the horizon, Kere brushed her fingers over the wounds. Once, twice, again, until the wound was closed; thin white lines traced the curved arcs of her fingernails against his dark skin. Telamon examined his arm and looked at her expectantly.<br />
<br />
“You left scars…are you feeling unwell?”<br />
<br />
Her lips brushed the raised flesh where she had pierced him. “I was put here to heal, my love. The scars are to be my reminder that instead I hurt you.” Her hand hovered over his arm. “Do you wish that I remove them?”<br />
<br />
Telamon gently lifted her hand away. “No,” he replied. “It will serve as a reminder for me, as well. While I am away.”<br />
<br />
“A reminder of what?” she asked.<br />
<br />
Cradling her hand in his, he wrapped a bracelet around her wrist and tied it snugly. “A reminder of my promise,” he answered. Kere’s breath caught in her throat; the significance of his gift overwhelmed her.<br />
<br />
“Telamon…” she began, but no further words came. Around her wrist coiled a thin strap of fine leather. Colorful polished shells, small and beautiful, hung evenly spaced along its length. No scarce metal formed its construction; even so, her shallow breath quickened. Perhaps mistaking her silence for disapproval, Telamon spoke quickly.<br />
<br />
“It should have copper, and the strap is too narrow…” He was forced to abandon the thought, for Kere embraced him and put an end to his criticism of his own efforts with a deep kiss. Every denigration of his gift was, to her, a denigration of their love. When she released him, he continued. “I thought this would be best, even if I had the means for a proper one.” He put out his hand in a silencing gesture when she tried to speak. <br />
“Luwos,” he spoke of her father, “will not notice this trinket. A marriage band, though…that he would notice. He sees only the values of things, and not their meanings; his blindness is our opportunity. Let this mark you as my own with the first promise that when I return, no matter who might object, we shall be wed.”<br />
<br />
Clever, she thought, clever and dear and perfect. Kere kissed him again, and when she reluctantly pulled her lips from his it was she who spoke. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, my love, but the first promise was mine.”<br />
Telamon studied her through narrowed eyes. Kere laughed at his bewilderment and only when the good nature of his expression slipped did she answer his unspoken question. “On the day we met. Don’t you remember?”<br />
<br />
A whirling mass of sea birds exploded into the air as his laughter boomed across the water. “Gods witness the oaths of children! We were five years old!”<br />
<br />
Fixing an expression of feigned injury on her face, Kere pouted. “I knew you were the one I would marry that day. Are you saying that you didn’t?” She enjoyed the growing discomfort in his eyes. Though his lips moved no sound emerged. Kere lifted her wrist to his face and shook it with a musical rattle. “Never call it a ‘trinket’ again.” She spoke with fierce intensity. “Of all the shining treasures hidden deep in the Sanctuary, I would love none more than this.” She grasped his hand tightly and pulled him along.<br />
<br />
They moved down the shore in silence for a time, listening to the fading sounds of the port behind. Waves shattered into foam against the Keswiq, a great wall of rock that towered black and immovable above the city. It was widely believed that if one prayed at its base, the stone itself would propel the message to the gods and even silent entreaties would be received; Kimber herself was said to sit atop the cliff and watch herself undulate across the world on nights when her sister lit the waves with her gentle glow. Telamon gazed thoughtfully at its silent face as they approached.<br />
<br />
“Did She keep me ashore that day?” he asked. The words whispered; Kere did not know whether she spoke to her. Or does he ask his father? Or Luna?<br />
<br />
The shrieks of gulls overhead nearly drowned out her response. “Why do you ask that? What day?” She knew, though, that there could be only one day he would speak of in that tone.<br />
<br />
Telamon did not look at Kere, but spoke with his gaze fixed firmly on the Keswiq. “The night before it happened, I promised the gods that I would do whatever they required of me, so long as they put a ship in my path one day. A ship of my own.” A deep breath filled his lungs. “When Father woke me in the morning, I was ill. My legs would not support me long enough to dress. I insisted that I was strong enough to join him…he was a sturdy man who never let sickness or injury stand in his way, and I feared his disappointment most of all. But Father put me back to my bed and pulled my blanket tight around me. ‘I promise you will make the next trip with me,’ he whispered in my ear. He kissed me goodbye and went to his ship. And Mother and I were alone.”<br />
<br />
The sea blurred in Kere’s eyes. She wondered why he hadn’t shared this story before. Her own memory of that day remained clear; it was the night, and the prayer, that were new. Is the thought of his father coloring this voyage? Is he afraid that he, too, might never return?<br />
<br />
“When I asked for a ship of my own, did I send my own father beyond, Kere? His ship would have been mine one day, and therefore not a ship of my own. Did the gods answer my prayer after all, just not in the way that I’d expected?”<br />
<br />
“The gods would never do such a thing!” she cried.<br />
He looked at her with an expression she’d never seen him wear. “Oh? Have they never sent a man to his doom, then?”<br />
<br />
The depth of his bitterness toward the gods shocked her. “If the gods don’t witness the oaths of children,” she reminded him with a rattle of her bracelet, “then do you truly believe they would run through a man’s heart a spear wrought from the prayers of his own child?” Kere embraced him tightly and ran her fingers through his long hair while he continued to look into the distance. Does he see his father? Or the ship broken in dark water with the bones of five men entombed within its pitch-smeared hull? His next words answered her questions. “Sometimes I dream about it, and in the dream I sleep, tucked into my warm bed by my father, as he sinks to the icy depths despite his struggles to reach the storm-churned surface.”<br />
<br />
The loss of his father had been Telamon’s greatest tragedy. The next-greatest loss was that with the ship had gone Telamon’s best future on the water. In his family for generations, it was long paid-for and belonged outright to the family—a near-impossible feat when timber for ships was dear and the metals for payment even more so. Now Telamon fished for a miserly old man as the least of the four-man crew. He earned barely enough to care for himself; if insufferable mourning had not taken his mother a year after the waves claimed his father, responsibility for her care would be his now, as well. The task would be impossible.<br />
<br />
Her fingers twisted the bracelet around her wrist. What price did he pay for this? The shells, of course, could be had at no cost save the walk along the shore; the polishing might be done with sand and water for no more than one’s time. The leather, though, spoke to the depths of his commitment. Leather could, of course, be had cheaply enough if one was not too careful about the quality. But she had seen fine leather before and recognized it wrapped against her skin; materials such as this, carefully prepared, darkened and sealed with oils, cost more. She knew that a man on a small boat earned enough share of the catch for shelter and food. But not a great deal of food, and not of great quality or variety. Kere thought of the hunger he must have endured, how he must have strained to carry his share of the work at sea with too little food to sustain him, all so that he could afford to wrap a few bits of leather and shell around her arm.<br />
<br />
She lifted a loaf of hard-crusted bread from her knapsack and tore away a small piece before offering the rest to him. She noted how eagerly Telamon tore into this simple food. Shame welled in her breast at the memory of feeding a similar loaf to the seabirds on a recent outing, and of how he hadn’t complained when she’d insisted they throw the entire loaf, piece by piece, into the air for the circling gulls to fight over.<br />
<br />
“We could leave this place.” She watched the water whirl in the small pools among the rocks as the sea left them, not daring to see in his face the wounded pride that her words would cause. His arm stiffened against her side; her hand now the one being crushed. She whimpered reflexively and Telamon released her hand. He turned, jaw tight, eyes cold.<br />
<br />
“And go where? To some small village, where we could raise our children with too little food, thin and ragged clothing? Or to another city, where I could find work as the lowest hand on a tiny ship? Where I still would not have means to provide for you? Tell me, where?” Barely controlled frustration seethed from his tongue.<br />
<br />
Though Kere knew that his anger was not directed at her, before she could control herself his anger was reflected back at him in her words. “Anywhere!” Defiance fueled by fear and driven by doubt welled inside her. “I…I could charge for healing. I would never take advantage of anyone in need, but I could earn enough. Together we could provide enough to raise a family.” To even think such a thing made her stomach clench. To trade for material wealth what the gods had given freely was sacrilege. Every child knew the story of Demir Anil, who had been blessed with the gift of foreknowledge, and whose end was still used by parents to caution their children.<br />
<br />
At first Anil had shared the gift freely, telling any who asked whether they should sail on a certain day, or give a daughter in marriage to this family or that, or what outcome they might expect from a given course of action. He always made certain to shade his answers so that the listener would choose the most advantageous option and still believe it had been his own idea. Eventually, however, Anil had no time for his own family or his own life. He began to require payment for his visions; with all of his time devoted to prophecy he had little time left each day to earn a living. As his fee increased, so did demands for more straightforward prophecies. Eventually Anil ceased directing the actions of the seekers, and instead told them exactly what he saw. In many cases seekers misinterpreted his words and made disastrous choices. In the end, Anil’s children were torn to pieces before his eyes by an angry mob, and he himself was fed alive to ravenous dogs. Though Kere saw an entirely different moral to the tale, most ascribed Anil’s fate to his exploitation of the gods’ gifts, as apparently did Telamon.<br />
<br />
He wheeled to face her. “Never speak so again! You shame the gods. You shame yourself.” The force in his voice softened. “A man who relies on his wife to live? You shame me. And you would risk all for a few foolish hopes.”<br />
<br />
“I’m sorry, Telamon, I wish I hadn’t said it.” She reclaimed his hand, but she was not sorry. Their only option was to leave together. If they stayed her father would never allow the marriage. If Telamon left with this year’s copper fleet her father would force her into the priesthood. Sell me to it, she corrected herself. Luwos’ grasping heart would never let a talent like hers go to waste, and for a man like her father, wasting her gift meant sharing it without profit. If he could not force her to bleed the wounds of the aged and infirm he would squeeze the priests, who would gladly trade treasure for the legitimacy her ability would bring to their order. But to allow his only daughter to marry without advantage would be to bring the other fishermen closer to his own level, even if his station was exalted only in his own eyes.<br />
<br />
The sea receded. When they arrived at the tide pools Kere and Telamon walked together through the microcosms of sea-life that lay scattered like droplets across the earth. One droplet harbored an exotic round shell; flattened in profile, its wide red-mottled segments overlapped to form a flexible armor that protected the soft body beneath. In another droplet, wisping away under the assault of wind and sun, three tiny fish swam an endless circle searching for an escape that would not exist for hours to come. If they survived the predations of sea birds until then. Seven-armed stars, called Lunafish by superstitious sailors, dotted watery depressions in a universe of colors and textures. Only through the mercies of scavengers and the setting sun did the helpless creatures, trapped in abandoned moments, survive. Shattered crab shells, remnants of a morning feast, lay hollow on the rocks.<br />
<br />
Neither Kere nor Telamon spoke as the ocean crept away. They didn’t want to acknowledge the heartbreak that lay ahead. Kere flitted from pool to pool and soon the towering rock echoed with squeals of delight at each new creature she discovered. Playing as they had long before, Kere and Telamon released for the moment the dread lurking in their hearts and became children again. A cloak of seaweed, a mass of tangled leaves and spongy floats draped across the back and arms, transformed the boy into a fearsome, dripping sea monster. Imaginary ships succumbed to the mighty onslaught of its grasping tentacles and gnashing beak. The girl, cupping small creatures in her water-filled hands as she carried them back to the ocean, was reborn as Kimber, the gentle goddess of healing and the sea. A blue-speckled crab left its perilous refuge in the care of the young goddess; it returned to the sea with its beak-riven carapace whole once more.<br />
<br />
The fading sun invited the ocean to reclaim the broken territory so recently abandoned. Pushed by the advancing moon, the water returned; as it did, so too did the worries of the young man and woman to displace the joys of the boy and girl. Perched on a stone ledge above the high-water mark, they clasped their hands together and listened to the renewed roar of the water. Cool mist wet their faces with each surge.<br />
<br />
Hating herself, but no longer able to delay, Kere broke the silence. “When must you leave?”<br />
<br />
“On the third day from this.”<br />
<br />
They would have less time together than she had hoped, but more than she’d feared. “And the lands you’ll sail past? Are they friendly? Are their waters safe?” Kere dreaded that grasping kings and preying pirates would beset the ships.<br />
<br />
Telamon stroked her dark hair. “For the first few weeks we can travel near enough to shore to be under the protection of local navies, such as they are. At a cost, of course, but we will carry enough extra cargo to part with in such cases.”<br />
<br />
Had Telamon not used the phrase ‘the first few weeks,’ Kere might have been reassured by his answer. “And after the first few weeks?” She immediately saw that he hadn’t intended to draw attention to what he must tell her next.<br />
<br />
“After the first few weeks,” he said, drawing her closer, “we will enter another sea. You’ve heard stories from the last voyage of the fleet?” Kere nodded but they had been much younger when the fleet had last sailed. The tales seemed impossible now.<br />
<br />
“I’ve spoken with traders who come from across our own sea,” he continued. “They speak of water seemingly without shores to hold it together. If the sun were hidden by clouds for long enough, a ship might wander, lost, until long after its crew consumes the last of its clean water and food.”<br />
<br />
This is why he thinks of his father today, she realized. I must not make it worse for him. “Surely that can’t happen. The sun always reveals itself, eventually. And the city will make the proper offerings at the Sanctuary, I’m sure.” She hoped that more certainty filled her voice than resided in her heart.<br />
<br />
“Of course,” he assured her.<br />
<br />
The looming reality of his departure settled on her. “How long will I wait until your return?”<br />
<br />
Telamon nodded, acknowledging her acceptance. “Two months at sea should see us to the land of copper. If the gods are generous, the goods we take for trade will not spoil or be otherwise found wanting, and we can offer them in exchange for the metals. If the people there accept our offers we could be pointed home after a week. Perhaps sooner.” He tapped a pebble against the ledge for a few moments. “If the gods withhold their favor, or our cargo is not highly desired, then we will have to trade for the raw stone and work the copper from it ourselves. Another two months, then, to crush the rock by hand and burn out the metal hidden within.”<br />
<br />
“Why not just bring the stone back whole and burn the metal out here?” she asked.<br />
<br />
“I wish it were so easy, love. There is very little of the metals we seek in the stone itself.” He chose a rock larger than his fist from those scattered about their perch. Offering it to her, he said, “Imagine that this represents all of the stone that we could fit into the ships.” Kere took the stone and nodded. Telamon held out a pebble smaller than the tip of her finger. “This represents the amount of metals hidden within the other. <br />
If we were to return with all of that worthless stone filling our holds, there would be no profit in the voyage. Do you understand?”<br />
<br />
Kere did. “Then two months, or four, before you turn for home. Another two months to return?” Up to half a year gone. It was a dismal thought. But it must be done.<br />
<br />
Telamon hesitated. “Actually, it will take at least three months to get home.”<br />
<br />
So long? She forced an uncertain smile through her disappointment. “Why three months to return, when two are enough to get there? Does it not take the same time to leave as to return when you fish off the shore? Surely the breadth of the sea doesn’t depend on which direction you cross?”<br />
<br />
The kindness of his reply, free of criticism of her lack of knowledge, comforted but did not reassure. “The winds will be with us when we depart; we can sail a straighter course,” he answered. “When we turn back, the winds will oppose us, forcing us to take a longer path.” Kere was not certain that she understood completely, but as long as Telamon understood she would be satisfied. “And there is the matter of returning with more than the ships’ own weights in cargo. They’ll wallow lower in the water. Move more slowly because of it.”<br />
<br />
He pulled her tighter against his body and wrapped his light cloak over her shoulders to shield her from the cooling breeze now gusting from the water. “But if my will were an oar or a sail, the return would be shorter.”<br />
<br />
Kere gently kissed him. Their lips lingered, both wanting more than this but neither wanting to taint their future together by appearing before a priestess having already known each other. When the moon dipped beyond the Keswiq they returned to the city.<br />
<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Links Galore! Go crazy!</span></b></div>
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Amazon Book Link: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Lightness-Dust-Meronymy-ebook/dp/B0091A5SAC">http://www.amazon.com/The-Lightness-Dust-Meronymy-ebook/dp/B0091A5SAC</a></div>
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Kobo Book Link: <a href="http://www.kobobooks.com/ebook/The-Lightness-of-Dust/book-e86qkf9kU0mmJhaCkxZiTA/page1.html?s=inpQaCBn3Um195XuGRgvZw&r=1">http://www.kobobooks.com/ebook/The-Lightness-of-Dust/book-e86qkf9kU0mmJhaCkxZiTA/page1.html?s=inpQaCBn3Um195XuGRgvZw&r=1</a></div>
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Publisher Website: <a href="http://www.lunarisen.com/">http://www.lunarisen.com/</a></div>
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Author Goodreads profile: <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6558612.M_L_Weaver">http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6558612.M_L_Weaver</a></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03654099780429487821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167224719486025568.post-38032874120456049402013-07-23T12:00:00.000-05:002013-07-23T12:00:04.692-05:00Liz Long #2: Witch Hearts Excerpt<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Here is the second excerpt from Liz Long! This one is from Witch Hearts. If you'd also like to read the excerpt posted earlier today from Gifted go to <a href="http://paranormallounge.blogspot.com/2013/07/today-i-am-featuring-two-excerpts-from.html" target="_blank">this link</a>.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5NIo5ENxEtNWl0sZVTgfA_8LIsCrVRBRsB1lLY55Sb_8q0cVBvUwHfIRZf7t13zMfD9pAEX7lTdsPixIDZKKLPd4Y-5fBp4CLcubRmb1-N5s9AHNv_c6jVrSsyIgOTN6MGej3aGuSeBZ7/s1600/WHCoverWeb+(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5NIo5ENxEtNWl0sZVTgfA_8LIsCrVRBRsB1lLY55Sb_8q0cVBvUwHfIRZf7t13zMfD9pAEX7lTdsPixIDZKKLPd4Y-5fBp4CLcubRmb1-N5s9AHNv_c6jVrSsyIgOTN6MGej3aGuSeBZ7/s400/WHCoverWeb+(1).jpg" width="270" /></a><b><span style="font-size: large;">WITCH HEARTS BLURB: </span></b></div>
How does a witch stay safe if a killer can get through her protection spells?<br />
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Witches like Ruby and Courtney can take care of themselves. So when Courtney is murdered, Ruby’s world crashes to a halt. The only thing keeping her grounded is the return of Courtney’s brother, Cooper. He seeks revenge, but Ruby wants to help other witches stay alive. To do that, she’ll have to reunite with her old coven’s High Priest, who also happens to be her cheating ex-boyfriend.<br />
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If that wasn’t awkward enough, when the killer gets too close, Cooper temporarily moves into Ruby’s place while a police officer tails her every move. Cooper’s presence distracts Ruby as they fight their desire against their need to stay safe. Then Courtney begins to haunt Ruby’s dreams and secrets are spilled, things from Cooper’s past that could get them both killed. The killer continues to stalk Ruby and the more she discovers, the more she fears she won’t be able to keep her heart in her chest.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Witch Hearts Special Excerpt:</span></b></div>
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Cooper and Ruby hopped on his bike and drove back to her place. She even managed to peek out from beneath her helmet to see the city whip past her in a blur. When they finally came to a stop, she untangled herself from him – albeit a tad regretful about it – and handed him back the helmet.</div>
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“Thanks again for everything tonight. I know it wasn’t the most fun you could have, but I want everyone to be safe,” she said.</div>
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“I understand. I’m glad I went, too. I don’t want anyone else in danger. Plus, you’re good company.” He stood up as he said it, hooking the helmets on his bike.</div>
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“You don’t have walk me in or anything. I don’t want to keep you any longer than you need.”</div>
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He snorted. “You’re not keeping me from anything. I want to do it, but especially because I want to make sure you’re safe.”</div>
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Ruby bit her bottom lip. Her nerves fluttered a bit at the thought of a possible goodnight kiss. She could hardly believe how immature she sounded in her head.</div>
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It’s your best friend’s brother. This is Cooper we’re talking about, a voice in her head screamed at her.</div>
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Another voice spoke up. Yeah. It’s Cooper. And your thoughts about him have never been exactly brotherly. </div>
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Shaking both voices away, she swiped her key fob by the entrance door and Cooper held it open for her. They took the stairs up to the second floor and walked around the corner to her apartment. Ruby stopped as soon as she saw her door.</div>
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“Something’s wrong,” she said.</div>
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“What? How can you tell?” He looked up and down the hallway.</div>
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“There was a barrier when I left. Remember I checked, put my hand on the door when we left? My spell was in place.”</div>
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“There was a soft glow on the door,” he said absentmindedly, as though remembering. His eyes narrowed and Ruby could see his veins throb in his neck as his jaw tightened.</div>
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“Only witches would be able to see it, but it’s not there.” Ruby took a few steps forward, placing her hand on the door, which was now simply cool and wooden. She retrieved her key and turned the lock, but Cooper stopped her.</div>
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“I’ll go in first.”</div>
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He swung the door wide open; he held his hands up in case of a fight or a spell, but silence greeted them. Cooper did a quick sweep of the apartment while Ruby waited in the entryway. He returned with Aziza in one arm and a letter in his hand.</div>
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“This was on your coffee table,” he said grimly. “Aziza was hiding behind the couch. She hissed until she realized it was me.”</div>
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Ruby took the note from him. As she opened it, Cooper stood beside her to read over her shoulder.</div>
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<i>“Not all witches are equal. Some are born with extraordinary gifts; anyone can practice, but few are truly powerful. You are one of the lucky ones, Ruby. I apologize about your friend Courtney. She was powerful, but nowhere near your capabilities. I’m afraid that in order for my powers to thrive, yours must come to an end. I’ll be seeing you very soon. –X”</i></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">WITCH HEARTS LINKS:</span></b></div>
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Amazon (ebook): <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00CIKKEV0">http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00CIKKEV0</a></div>
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Goodreads: <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17616067-witch-hearts">http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17616067-witch-hearts</a></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">GIFTED LINKS:</span></b></div>
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Amazon (ebook): <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Gifted-Donovan-Circus-Novel-ebook/dp/B007VT34J2/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1336675611&sr=8-2">http://www.amazon.com/Gifted-Donovan-Circus-Novel-ebook/dp/B007VT34J2/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1336675611&sr=8-2</a></div>
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Goodreads: <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/13601567-gifted">http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/13601567-gifted</a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPqJoRSofy6sgNBCKl1jyuneIB3Krn0ufgW_fr_pA65w3h2nfCxKq2e3RNh1ZK92mr9pmX-D8zPVRZuvQr-1Izv7osLYeEpkGVemDK_EUDuGuOqXhqn5cJTYpXeMIjoGsFQ5fMeEJjv32W/s1600/AuthorPhoto.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPqJoRSofy6sgNBCKl1jyuneIB3Krn0ufgW_fr_pA65w3h2nfCxKq2e3RNh1ZK92mr9pmX-D8zPVRZuvQr-1Izv7osLYeEpkGVemDK_EUDuGuOqXhqn5cJTYpXeMIjoGsFQ5fMeEJjv32W/s320/AuthorPhoto.jpeg" width="283" /></a><b><span style="font-size: large;">About the Author:</span></b></div>
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Liz Long is lucky enough to have a dream career in magazine publishing as an editor and writer, yet still have time to create adventures on the side. If you catch her staring off into space or talking to herself, don’t worry – it’s just her imagination at work. </div>
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Liz graduated from Longwood University with a BA in English, though her professors might be disappointed to hear she reads more fantasy fiction than literary novels. She also loves action and thriller genres. Her books probably won’t change your life, but she hopes they steal you away from reality for a while. </div>
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Her newest release, Witch Hearts, will be for sale on Amazon on April 30th. Her first book, Gifted, a Donovan Circus Novel, is also available for paperback and Kindle on Amazon. </div>
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To learn more about Liz, visit her website: <a href="http://lizclong.com/">http://lizclong.com</a></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Author Links:</span></b></div>
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Website: <a href="http://lizclong.com/">http://lizclong.com</a></div>
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Twitter: (Handle: @LizCLong) <a href="https://twitter.com/#!/LizCLong">https://twitter.com/#!/LizCLong</a></div>
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Facebook Author Page: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/lizclongauthor">https://www.facebook.com/lizclongauthor</a></div>
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Goodreads: <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/LizLong">http://www.goodreads.com/LizLong</a></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03654099780429487821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167224719486025568.post-28907959520265496002013-07-23T00:00:00.000-05:002013-07-23T00:00:03.205-05:00Liz Long #1: Gifted Excerpt<span style="font-size: large;">Today I am featuring the two excerpts from Liz Long's books. One from Gifted, which is below, and the other from Witch Hearts, which will be posted at noon!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdyrKzsCks8mAov15fUVIRIlR15YBvZHFnAFYJzQqiLnkaiqTcQUU9afUSV0YKrIPMAl4MR-V9OYKaU1o7ZM5GPnGtunQ38syDcGIyB84AOYVYmouvykS5XNVGC8t9kLlfZ8RFU_O3_EI5/s1600/GiftedCoverWeb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdyrKzsCks8mAov15fUVIRIlR15YBvZHFnAFYJzQqiLnkaiqTcQUU9afUSV0YKrIPMAl4MR-V9OYKaU1o7ZM5GPnGtunQ38syDcGIyB84AOYVYmouvykS5XNVGC8t9kLlfZ8RFU_O3_EI5/s400/GiftedCoverWeb.jpg" width="266" /></a><b><span style="font-size: large;">GIFTED BLURB:</span></b><br />
Even in a world of freaks, being a Firestarter is considered a dangerous Gift.<br />
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Lucy was born with the ability to create and control fire. She longs to leave the human world for one filled with Earthshakers, Transporters, and Chameleons, to name a few. When she rejoins the circus, it’s everything she hoped it could be—new friends, a potential love interest or two, and a place where she can be herself.<br />
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When troupe members begin turning up dead, however, Lucy is suspected of foul play. She must not only prove her innocence but also realize the full extent of her power. To find the real murderer, she must uncover the truth behind her father’s fiery legacy while figuring out whom to trust within her new circle. Little does she know the history of the Donovan Circus and its enemies might actually destroy the entire gifted world.<br />
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We followed the already worn walkway around a corner, where a sea of activity blinded me. Whereas the campers were quiet, the actual circus grounds thrived with members preparing for the day. </div>
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My senses hit overdrive—colors, smells, and sounds assaulted me. Costumes covered in sequins and feathers were traded off between artists; my nose detected popcorn machines, sawdust with hay, and sweat, both human and animal. And the sounds! It was so loud between the people yelling, animals’ screeches, and equipment in use to set up stands and booths. I would have to shout at Delia to be heard. </div>
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I suddenly became very aware of why Sheffield and Delia warned me against being surprised. People made no secret of their gifts in safe company. I saw another Runner dart in and out of the crowd while Levitators floated seamlessly between the bodies. Birds flew all over, carried messages or small objects such as tools or costume props. The air filled with sounds of conversation, animals protested their displeasure of cages, and men barked orders on the best way to get tents up fast.</div>
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My heart jumped when I saw two other male Firestarters walking together. One was dressed in half a clown costume. The other one flicked a lighter and began to juggle fireballs with the clown; they walked simultaneously as they tossed them back and forth to one another, gradually creating greater space between them. Walking five feet apart, they continued juggling and while most troupe members simply walked around them and rolled their eyes, a few walked through, seemingly oblivious to the fire whizzing past their heads. </div>
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A girl walking by bumped into me. Her eyes met mine and narrowed in question but she continued walking. I saw someone whisper to his friend while he looked at me. I could’ve sworn another girl pointed discreetly in my direction. Some of the looks weren’t entirely welcoming. </div>
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My stomach clenched and my hands went into a hot sweat. The scene slowed down as I looked at Delia—her mouth moved, she talked to me about something, but I had no idea what. All I could hear was white noise. Completely overwhelmed, my body felt like it was seizing up. Flames would escape my palms and engulf me if I didn’t calm down. </div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">GIFTED LINKS:</span></b></div>
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Amazon (ebook): <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Gifted-Donovan-Circus-Novel-ebook/dp/B007VT34J2/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1336675611&sr=8-2">http://www.amazon.com/Gifted-Donovan-Circus-Novel-ebook/dp/B007VT34J2/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1336675611&sr=8-2</a></div>
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Goodreads: <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/13601567-gifted">http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/13601567-gifted</a></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">WITCH HEARTS LINKS:</span></b></div>
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Amazon (ebook): <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00CIKKEV0">http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00CIKKEV0</a></div>
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Goodreads: <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17616067-witch-hearts">http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17616067-witch-hearts</a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcQzX-Kqhz3M02h8u90UjTCKVIIDBr-aexClGWVpZTw140t93hTWkcJRO_TssmTdtemSgLdNbKH9G48dZ9dQIZIP_mEO96xN4TsYgZX555MJA21L0jQf81N_rpWpZ05vaWLmio97Ar3GgU/s1600/AuthorPhoto.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcQzX-Kqhz3M02h8u90UjTCKVIIDBr-aexClGWVpZTw140t93hTWkcJRO_TssmTdtemSgLdNbKH9G48dZ9dQIZIP_mEO96xN4TsYgZX555MJA21L0jQf81N_rpWpZ05vaWLmio97Ar3GgU/s320/AuthorPhoto.jpeg" width="283" /></a><b><span style="font-size: large;">About the Author:</span></b></div>
<div>
Liz Long is lucky enough to have a dream career in magazine publishing as an editor and writer, yet still have time to create adventures on the side. If you catch her staring off into space or talking to herself, don’t worry – it’s just her imagination at work. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Liz graduated from Longwood University with a BA in English, though her professors might be disappointed to hear she reads more fantasy fiction than literary novels. She also loves action and thriller genres. Her books probably won’t change your life, but she hopes they steal you away from reality for a while. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
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Her newest release, Witch Hearts, will be for sale on Amazon on April 30th. Her first book, Gifted, a Donovan Circus Novel, is also available for paperback and Kindle on Amazon. </div>
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To learn more about Liz, visit her website: <a href="http://lizclong.com/">http://lizclong.com</a></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Author Links:</span></b></div>
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Website: <a href="http://lizclong.com/">http://lizclong.com</a></div>
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Twitter: (Handle: @LizCLong) <a href="https://twitter.com/#!/LizCLong">https://twitter.com/#!/LizCLong</a></div>
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Facebook Author Page: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/lizclongauthor">https://www.facebook.com/lizclongauthor</a></div>
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Goodreads: <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/LizLong">http://www.goodreads.com/LizLong</a></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03654099780429487821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167224719486025568.post-27924385914209621302013-07-22T12:00:00.000-05:002013-07-22T22:47:16.950-05:00Lauren Grimley #2: Unveiled Excerpt<div>
<span style="font-size: large;">The second excerpt from Lauren Grimley today is from <i>Unveiled</i>, the second book in the Alex Crocker Series. Also, don't miss the giveaway at the bottom!</span><br />
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To see the first excerpt from <i>Unforeseen</i> posted earlier today go here: <a href="http://paranormallounge.blogspot.com/2013/07/lauren-grimley-1-unforeseen-excerpt.html">http://paranormallounge.blogspot.com/2013/07/lauren-grimley-1-unforeseen-excerpt.html</a><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Book Information:</span></b><br />
Genres/tags: urban fantasy, paranormal romance, vampire series<br />
Available formats: ebook and paperback<br />
Publisher: Paramance<br />
Website page: http://www.laurengrimley.com/Unveiled__book_2.html<br />
Trailer link: http://youtu.be/hfz5KLrVC9k<br />
Goodreads - http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17969407-unveiled<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Blurb: </span></b><br />
With strength comes vulnerabilities. With love comes loss. With power comes pain. The world Alex now belongs to hinges on such balance. Her every step seems to be lurching her precariously closer to one wrong side or another.<br />
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Alex had known her life as a Seer wouldn’t be easy. She knew her gift would be difficult to control and constantly sensing others’ emotions would be overwhelming. She even knew she’d be hunted for the power it would provide whichever coven of vampires controlled her. What she didn’t foresee were the difficulties she’d have with the parts of her life she ought to be able to control: her decisions, her actions, and her relationships.<br />
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It isn’t until she’s botched every facet of her new life that the opportunity arises to make things right. Rocky’s lover has been abducted, and Alex’s gift is the best shot at bringing her home alive. But even that will require tipping the scales in a direction no one but Alex can understand.<br />
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This sequel to Unforeseen is a darker tale of the battles Alex continues to fight against her enemies, her gift, and even herself. This time victory might cost her sanity, her lover, or her life.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Purchase links for Unveiled, book 2: </span></b><br />
Amazon - <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Unveiled-Alex-Crocker-Series-ebook/dp/B00CXGQGPC/ref=sr_1_3?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1369217456&sr=1-3&keywords=lauren+grimley">http://www.amazon.com/Unveiled-Alex-Crocker-Series-ebook/dp/B00CXGQGPC/ref=sr_1_3?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1369217456&sr=1-3&keywords=lauren+grimley</a><br />
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Barnes & Noble - <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/unveiled-lauren-grimley/1115393815?ean=2940016588780">http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/unveiled-lauren-grimley/1115393815?ean=2940016588780</a><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Excerpt from Chapter 1, Unveiled:</span></b><br />
Two hours later Alex was dressed and sitting cross-legged in the center of the bed debating her next move. And there had to be a next move, because status quo since she’d made her transformation from freakishly intuitive human to full-blown Seer involved spending her nights on the brink of insanity. She’d kept up the act as long as she could. It was time to do something or admit defeat. Alex didn’t give up that easy.<br />
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She opened the small wooden jewelry box that lay before her on the center of the bedspread. Stacked on top of the tangled mess of costume jewelry she’d accumulated during high school and college were the array of bracelets she had worn on her right wrist for years. She had taken them off and stashed them away last summer without a second thought. Now she fingered a studded leather cuff, two of frayed woven cotton in muted earth tones, and one of pewter maille made by a classmate in college.<br />
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Disgusted, she slammed the lid closed. The force of it sent a folded scrap of paper fluttering onto the thick comforter. She didn’t need to unfold it to see what it said. The words in Darian’s neat cursive were etched into her memory.<br />
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The last of three,<br />
Where essence is strong, marred And before the turn, battle-worn From which will then be born to us A unique warrior<br />
’Tis she who Sees a way<br />
To victory.<br />
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This was the prophecy supposedly foretelling Alex’s future as a Seer. While her first impression had been that it read like poorly written mumbo-jumbo, she had eventually accepted there might be something to it. Boiled down it predicted that her two brothers would die, she’d be gravely injured, carried to the safety of the coven, and be the first ever female to fight alongside the warriors. So far every charming line had turned out true, except the last two, which implied she’d be the one to end the centuries-long feud between two covens of creatures who could crush her in a heartbeat. Since most Seers suffered early painful deaths, Darian likely hoped she’d get a move on and wrap it all up before she turned thirty, to boot. But no pressure or anything.<br />
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Alex angrily tore the paper to bits and flung the pieces into the air where they scattered among the mess surrounding her. She tapped her front teeth together as she examined the room she’d lived in ever since she had been brought to the Regan’s farmhouse and told about the existence of vampires, Seers, and prophecies, all things most people in the small city of Bristol, Mass., believed to exist only in books—or horror movies. The once neatly kept guest room now teemed with distractions: a set of Shakespeare paperbacks, well-worn and marked from her college literature classes; an old Latin textbook she’d borrowed from Sarah, in hopes of being able to understand a few words of hers and Markus’s upcoming mating ceremony; two equally worn and dirty pairs of running shoes; and a new silver iPod with matching speakers.<br />
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Sage had given her these last two items for her twenty-sixth birthday after an embarrassing incident the week before. Listening to her old iPod had been a source of refuge from her sense. The tirade of swears that had spewed from her mouth the night it died after a rainy run had been epic. As a Knower, who was constantly inundated with his friends’ thoughts, the way Alex was bombarded with their emotions, Sage understood her need to block out her sense at times. Still, the present had come with a warning.<br />
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“Don’t make us regret the speakers,” he’d said. “If I have to be subjected to that chick rock you listen to, no music is going to drown out my irritation.”<br />
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In the weeks since, she had regularly ignored this instruction, blasting her playlists packed with the anthems of emos everywhere, in a vain attempt to numb her growing sense. None of her housemates said anything to stop her. They were ever-supportive as she tried to adjust to her gift. Their ignoring the signs that she was slowly falling apart and her pretending she was holding it all together was just part of the dance they shared on a nightly basis now. Sarah’s turning to Darian with her concern over her weight loss had been the first sign that the dance was coming to an end. Looking across the bedroom to the mirror that hung above the cherry dresser, Alex admitted it was a miracle it had lasted this long. She flinched at her own reflection. Her face was as pale as it would be mid-January, despite being only a few weeks into September. The red- violet under-eye circles stood out sharply against the pallid complexion. She looked away.<br />
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She needed to learn control, but what she really wanted was release. Books and music were merely diversions, which lasted only as long as her attention span. These days that wasn’t nearly long enough. Running had always been her go-to, but even that comfort only lasted as long as her body could hold out. Although that was far longer than she was allowed on the fields surrounding the property most nights. One of Darian’s many new safety precautions—or power plays, depending on who was asked.<br />
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With emotions rather than reason in charge, her promise to Markus was soon forgotten. She grabbed the remote to her speakers. Maybe a good fight was just what she needed. She pressed play and then held her thumb over the volume button until the angry alternative beats shook the entire upstairs. She couldn’t hear the growl or the stomping that accompanied the aggravation she sensed from the approaching Regan. Her door swung open seconds into the first song and Darian yanked the cord from the wall.<br />
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“Do you mind? I’m trying to prepare for a meeting.” He stood glaring at her, entirely filling the doorframe. This used to intimidate her. If she were being smart and not being overrun by her sense, it might still.<br />
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“And I’m trying to drown out how you’re feeling about that meeting.” Fresh and invasive, it was a nice touch.<br />
“Are you adding listening to music to my proscribed list of activities? What does that leave me, Regan, knitting?”<br />
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Darian’s fists clenched and unclenched by his side.<br />
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Go ahead. Give in to it. Hit me. I’ve wanted to project someone onto his ass ever since my gift matured.<br />
<br />
His hands dropped to his sides. Apparently she was the only one giving into her moods tonight. Darian had done what she had been unable to do for nearly two months: control his emotions.<br />
<br />
“Use headphones. Or at least turn it down.” He spun around, closing her door as he exited.<br />
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Before it had even shut, she hurled her copy of King Lear at the wall beside it. “Every inch a king, my ass.”<br />
<br />
His footsteps paused; his anger blazed. Alex’s hope rekindled. Then his sympathy seeped in, dissipating his fury. Heavy tread could be heard again heading down the hall to his office.<br />
<br />
“Damn it.” She thought of all the times she had wanted Darian’s indulgence and was denied. Tonight when she craved confrontation, he yielded.<br />
<br />
She slammed her fists into the pillows until, too exhausted to continue, she collapsed onto them. Eventually her breathing eased. In a calmer state, she realized what she had just done. Her stomach flipped. Picking a fight with a vampire, a Regan, might have sounded braver than her newest plan. She doubted, though, if anything could be more foolish. Still, she sighed.<br />
<br />
<br />
Turning her head she gazed into the adjoining bathroom as one hand drifted back to the jewelry box. There had to be a way to keep them safe without doing this. There had to be a way to keep herself sane without doing this. She wished desperately she knew what that way was.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Author Information:</b></span></div>
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Author website: <a href="http://www.laurengrimley.com/">http://www.laurengrimley.com</a></div>
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Blog: <a href="http://blog.laurengrimley.com/">http://blog.laurengrimley.com</a></div>
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Twitter @legrimley: <a href="https://twitter.com/legrimley">https://twitter.com/legrimley</a></div>
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Facebook: <a href="http://www.facebook.com/AuthorLaurenGrimley">http://www.facebook.com/AuthorLaurenGrimley</a></div>
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Google+: <a href="http://plus.google.com/u/0/105156245095191358255/posts//p/pub">http://plus.google.com/u/0/105156245095191358255/posts//p/pub</a></div>
<div>
Goodreads: <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5825387.Lauren_Grimley">http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5825387.Lauren_Grimley</a></div>
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Pinterest: <a href="http://pinterest.com/authorlegrimley/">http://pinterest.com/authorlegrimley/</a></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Bio: </span></b></div>
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Lauren Grimley lives in central Massachusetts where she grew up, but her heart is on the beaches of Cape Cod where she spends as much of her time as possible. After graduating from Boston University she became a middle school English teacher. She now balances writing, reading, and correcting, all with a cat on her lap and a glass of red wine close by.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Also by Lauren Grimley:</span></b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhshj3dif713GgSrRXS_7deL32vgxIKgFOk3cNa8iOgNG4L8BTrHwpKMilmEEi2oyDZPhO-EoW7ZppE0bKv2bLGdORELGcA810sQnXHIW5VRBg2-lyD2zxRJ-rfCTIO84tk9vaGCI7xjpF7/s1600/-Unknown-+cover.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="165" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhshj3dif713GgSrRXS_7deL32vgxIKgFOk3cNa8iOgNG4L8BTrHwpKMilmEEi2oyDZPhO-EoW7ZppE0bKv2bLGdORELGcA810sQnXHIW5VRBg2-lyD2zxRJ-rfCTIO84tk9vaGCI7xjpF7/s200/-Unknown-+cover.png" width="200" /></a></div>
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<b>“Unknown” a short story from the Alex Crocker series:</b><br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1623750210/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=1623750210&linkCode=as2&tag=laurgrim-20">http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1623750210/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=1623750210&linkCode=as2&tag=laurgrim-20</a><br />
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<b>Blurb:</b><br />
Middle school is supposed to bite. Middle schoolers aren't.<br />
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Alex simply wanted to do a favor for a friend while taking a much-needed reprieve from her far-from-average life and returning temporarily to her teaching position. Torie was just trying to trudge through another day of middle school surrounded by naïve peers who had no idea what she was to become. Neither teacher nor student expected to glance across a classroom of normal human teenagers and into the face of their enemy. Neither Seer nor Knower could have understood how their gifts would leave them second-guessing everything they'd been taught to believe about the other side.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis6Sq79GshM6_10wfw06J8MJR1KfmeSo1XMft3gJQFDEvRqAVqOVW1rcDikQmEIQ-QSJsC5eUdTfJhn9deARdwoYKH063mFMJO-96Ixhs-vZQKaikzilkZovDVrUFD5T15VpX5yjnHU9Pb/s1600/apply+liberally+cover+(1).png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis6Sq79GshM6_10wfw06J8MJR1KfmeSo1XMft3gJQFDEvRqAVqOVW1rcDikQmEIQ-QSJsC5eUdTfJhn9deARdwoYKH063mFMJO-96Ixhs-vZQKaikzilkZovDVrUFD5T15VpX5yjnHU9Pb/s200/apply+liberally+cover+(1).png" width="124" /></a><br />
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<b>“Apply Liberally” a short romantic comedy/chick lit piece:</b><br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Apply-Liberally-ebook/dp/B00DP3YLK4/ref=sr_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1372778578&sr=1-3">http://www.amazon.com/Apply-Liberally-ebook/dp/B00DP3YLK4/ref=sr_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1372778578&sr=1-3</a><br />
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<b>Blurb:</b><br />
Lissa had decided when she left the stale air of her classroom that afternoon that she was not going to wallow. She would not give Tom, Mr. I'm-just-not-ready-to-commit-right-now, the satisfaction of devastating her summer the way he had destroyed her confidence and sanity the previous four months. No, she decided she would bask in the freedom of her single status. Or at least drown her sorrows in a pitcher of Margaritas, a torrid romance novel, and a package or two of Oreos enjoyed on the nearest vacant stretch of beach.<br />
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That's when it started raining.<br />
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Still, a single woman on a mission can not be deterred. And who doesn’t need a little sunscreen even in a thunderstorm?</div>
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<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03654099780429487821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167224719486025568.post-49367149197417539132013-07-22T00:00:00.000-05:002013-07-22T22:48:00.953-05:00Lauren Grimley #1: Unforeseen Excerpt<span style="font-size: large;">The first excerpt today from Lauren Grimley comes from<i> Unforeseen. </i>Also, don't miss the giveaway at the bottom of the post!</span><br />
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<i>Unforeseen</i>, the first novel in the Alex Crocker Seer series, was Lauren’s debut novel, and she’s thrilled to be continuing the series with Unveiled. To learn more about her or her writing or to connect with her online visit her website at <a href="http://www.laurengrimley.com/">www.laurengrimley.com</a><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Book Information:</b></span><br />
<i>Unforeseen</i> (Alex Crocker series, book 1)<br />
Genres/tags: urban fantasy, paranormal romance, vampire series<br />
Available formats: ebook and paperback<br />
Publisher: Malachite Quills<br />
Website page: <a href="http://www.laurengrimley.com/Unforeseen.html">http://www.laurengrimley.com/Unforeseen.html</a><br />
Trailer link: <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k4jIAt-U1iQ">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k4jIAt-U1iQ</a><br />
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Goodreads: <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/13624479-unforeseen">http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/13624479-unforeseen</a><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b>
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Blurb:</span></b><br />
Alex was quite sure gifted was a term delusional parents applied to their strictly average children, vampires were gorgeous dead guys in her eighth-grade girls' novels, and Seers was a middle schooler's misspelling of a department store known for power tools. Teachers, however, don't know everything–it’s Alex’s turn to be educated.<br />
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Running alone the night before school ends, Alex is violently attacked. Regaining consciousness, she finds herself in the home of the Rectinatti Regan, the leader of one of two covens of vampires battling nightly on the streets of her city. If that discovery wasn't enough to make her think she'd gone insane, she realizes she's sensing the emotions of another of the vampires as strongly as she feels her own. Discovering these creatures have the answers to what she is and why she was attacked, she decides she wants to stay, despite knowing it is a dangerous, possibly deadly desire.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Purchase links for Unforeseen, Book 1: </span></b><br />
Amazon: <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Unforeseen-Lauren-Grimley/dp/1623750210/ref=tmm_pap_title_0">http://www.amazon.com/Unforeseen-Lauren-Grimley/dp/1623750210/ref=tmm_pap_title_0</a><br />
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Barnes & Noble: <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/unforeseen-lauren-grimley/1110436184?ean=2940014543286">http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/unforeseen-lauren-grimley/1110436184?ean=2940014543286</a><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Excerpt from Unforeseen:</span></b><br />
She knew he was out there. She hadn’t heard him approach over the music she’d been playing. And she couldn’t see clearly through the windows of the two double doors due to the reflection cast by the soft yellow light of the small desk lamp. But Alex would have bet her summer paycheck he was right outside, standing silently in the dark corridor.<br />
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That afternoon she had been out the door of the middle school where she taught before the dismissal bell had ceased ringing. The heat and charged end-of-year atmosphere had left her spent and desperate for escape. Unfortunately there was no escaping her uncompleted work. So as soon as she was sure the final after-school activity had ended, she had returned and retreated to the comfort and quiet of the air-conditioned library with her stack of ungraded essays. It had seemed like a pretty smart plan at the time.<br />
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As she tapped her front teeth together repeatedly, she was second-guessing her wisdom. She supposed it was too late to flick off the light, mute the music, and hide under the librarian’s desk. He knew she was in there, alone.<br />
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But why should she be the one hiding anyway? She had dumped him.<br />
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“Come on in, Peter.” Alex stood up and gave a quick tug to the bottoms of her skimpy running shorts. They were probably not appropriate attire to be wearing in the workplace, even after the students had all gone home. She supposed she had little to worry about, though. Peter, as vice-principal, was her boss, and he had seen pretty much all of her. That was more than three years ago, when she had been fresh out of college and easily won over. She’d grown past that stage. Peter had missed the memo.<br />
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“Sorry. I, ah, didn’t want to startle you.” He flashed her a guilty grin as he entered the room rubbing his hand over what remained of his buzzed hair.<br />
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“Skulking in the hallway was a good idea, then,” Alex said with just a shadow of a smile. Peter chuckled. “Do you use that kind of sarcasm in your classroom, Ms. Crocker?”<br />
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She groaned at his form of address. Ms. rang of wizened old spinsters who reeked of<br />
chalk dust and sour coffee breath. At twenty-five, Miss Crocker was more of a laptop-and-sports- drink kind of gal.<br />
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“Are you here to kick me out, Peter?” She caught a glimpse of the clock over his shoulder. It was quarter of ten. She knew asking the night custodians to stay sixty seconds past their contracted hours could potentially lead to a union riot.<br />
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“Sorry, I know your place is a sauna on nights like this,” he answered, as if she needed reminding he had spent more than a few hot—make that lukewarm—nights at her small one- bedroom apartment.<br />
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Alex took a deep breath. He was a good guy, a good friend. But the puppy-who-refused- to-give-up-his-favorite-chew-toy routine was getting old. Not that the chew toy had found a new dog, unfortunately.<br />
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Ugh, she thought. Did he really have her equating herself with something plastic and squeaky?<br />
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She must not have been successful at hiding her aggravation, though Peter misread the reason for her mood. “You know, if you needed some money to buy an air conditioner—”<br />
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“I don’t need money.” Alex knew she snapped a little too fiercely at his generosity. One of her many flaws was a proud independent streak that often bordered on pigheadedness. She had her father to thank for that. Alex sighed and continued in what she hoped was a softer tone. “Thank you, though, for offering.”<br />
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“Right. Well, how about a ride home? At least allow me one act of chivalry.” He looked down at her with his deep brown eyes. For a fleeting instant, as she met them, his emotions waxed into hers. She had a bad habit of falling for guys simply because they fell for her. She knew it was how they had become a couple to begin with, but she just couldn’t help it. Some days everyone’s emotions felt as contagious as the flu germs her students passed around each January. She mentally pinched herself, hard.<br />
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“Thanks, Prince Charming, but you’ll need to find another damsel in distress. If I don’t run, I’ll never sleep.”<br />
Peter furrowed his brows. “You and your late-night runs.”<br />
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“Yes, I’m such a wild child,” Alex laughed. She hadn’t been up past midnight more than twice in the last year. In fact, the most exciting thing she’d done since college had been with Peter—here at school, in a janitor’s closet. She blushed remembering. She peeked up to see he was rosy, as well. “I’ve gone cold-turkey on the Grey’s Anatomy marathons,” she assured him. Though it still seemed unfair that young doctors had all the fun. “Perhaps you should lay off the Law & Order reruns—I’ll be fine.” Alex slung her school bag over her shoulder, scooped her beat-up iPod from the desk and started to the door, patting her pocket to double check she had her key to her apartment.<br />
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After dropping her bag in her classroom, she walked with Peter as far as the faculty parking lot. He stopped before crossing the dimly lit pavement to his car. Jingling his keys in his hand, he turned to her one last time.<br />
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“Are you—”<br />
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“Yes. I’m sure.” Alex held up her right hand so he could see the bracelets that covered her wrist. She pointed to her runner’s ID tag and flashed him a grin. “Don’t worry, if some idiot kills me at a crosswalk, you’ll be the first to know.”<br />
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“Not funny, Alex.”<br />
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She was already heading to the sidewalk, slipping the headphones blasting her alternative rock mix into each ear. She raised a hand to him to say goodnight.<br />
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Once on the main road, Alex’s route home was practically a straight shot through the center of Bristol. The former mill city in Eastern Mass had its shabby sections, and it lacked the culture and sophistication of a bigger city like Boston, but it was her home and always had been. She had never felt afraid running the familiar four-and-a-half-mile trek between school and her place. Besides, what she told Peter was true: she needed to run. Handling her students’ hormone- enhanced emotions could be draining. She needed an outlet. Since she could no longer afford karate in addition to her student loans and grad classes, she’d turned to running.<br />
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As she closed in on the final street before she’d be on her own block, she watched her shadow grow and shrink in the peaks and valleys of light cast by the evenly spaced streetlamps. She turned around, jogging backwards a few paces. The street behind her, like that ahead of her, was empty. The usual light traffic and occasional dog walker had been kept home by the oppressive humidity and the evening’s earlier thunderstorms. It normally wouldn’t have unnerved her. As a city girl, Alex usually relished the rare opportunity to be truly alone, especially on a night when the rain-washed pavement left the city streets smelling clean for once. So, feeling the unmistakable nervous twinge that turned her stomach and tightened her chest, she cursed the power of suggestion.<br />
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“Damn you, Peter.”<br />
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Hoping to shake the ridiculous feeling of being followed and not wanting to squander the adrenaline, she took off at full speed. Her sneakers tore into the wet pavement, sending spray up her muscled calves. Halfway to the corner her lungs were burning. At just over five feet short, as her brothers used to say, speed had never been her thing.<br />
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Just to the next alley, she promised her aching chest. As soon as she reached the gap between the two commercial buildings, she let up. Her feet slapped the sidewalk as she tried to slow her momentum. She would walk the last block and a half home. It would allow her time to catch her breath, cool off, and calm down. She tried to focus on something mundane.<br />
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As she wiped the sweat from her brow, she thought about what Peter had offered. She’d never accept the charity, but she really could use a small air conditioner for her bedroom. She was sick of fighting with the landlord over the ancient hunk of metal that was supposed to cool her whole apartment. Midway through cursing the useless beer-gutted moron under her breath, she was overwhelmed with what might have felt like a wave of nausea to anyone else.<br />
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Alex was not anyone else. Part of being sensitive to others’ emotions was having a killer sense of intuition, and hers was suddenly on high alert. This was not the vague undefined fear of moments before—this was real and immediate.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Author Information:</b></span></div>
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Author website: <a href="http://www.laurengrimley.com/">http://www.laurengrimley.com</a></div>
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Blog: <a href="http://blog.laurengrimley.com/">http://blog.laurengrimley.com</a></div>
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Twitter @legrimley: <a href="https://twitter.com/legrimley">https://twitter.com/legrimley</a></div>
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Facebook: <a href="http://www.facebook.com/AuthorLaurenGrimley">http://www.facebook.com/AuthorLaurenGrimley</a></div>
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Google+: <a href="http://plus.google.com/u/0/105156245095191358255/posts//p/pub">http://plus.google.com/u/0/105156245095191358255/posts//p/pub</a></div>
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Goodreads: <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5825387.Lauren_Grimley">http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5825387.Lauren_Grimley</a></div>
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Pinterest: <a href="http://pinterest.com/authorlegrimley/">http://pinterest.com/authorlegrimley/</a></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Bio: </span></b></div>
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Lauren Grimley lives in central Massachusetts where she grew up, but her heart is on the beaches of Cape Cod where she spends as much of her time as possible. After graduating from Boston University she became a middle school English teacher. She now balances writing, reading, and correcting, all with a cat on her lap and a glass of red wine close by.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03654099780429487821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167224719486025568.post-48492211622193054482013-07-21T12:00:00.000-05:002013-07-21T12:00:01.343-05:00BBF Kick Off Post!Hey guys! Sorry it's been so quiet around here lately. I've been hard at work on the BBF and I haven't had much time for anything else. As some of you know, BBF is an event where authors and bloggers come together to showcase tons of books from various genres. The event officially starts tomorrow, but I'm here to tell you what to expect on Paranormal Lounge this week.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj57w8IXY4uDuyXNOoJNs5aVONJxSWPlrIXykzpn3tjOfwWpuQk0kP-zYJkev3bnFiIo0ZWw5J5WqD_5rq_Pnhpdr-F0uh2DeUFBoAlkM1PBiRfVBf2jza1S3wI95hOypUy67EQEIp_dfe2/s1600/July+BBF+button+600X600.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj57w8IXY4uDuyXNOoJNs5aVONJxSWPlrIXykzpn3tjOfwWpuQk0kP-zYJkev3bnFiIo0ZWw5J5WqD_5rq_Pnhpdr-F0uh2DeUFBoAlkM1PBiRfVBf2jza1S3wI95hOypUy67EQEIp_dfe2/s200/July+BBF+button+600X600.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
Each day of the BBF I will be featuring excerpts from a different author's work. The thing you will love about this is that all of these excerpts are from books that feature paranormal themes!<br />
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Monday: Excerpts from Lauren Grimley!<br />
Tuesday: Excerpts from Liz Long!<br />
Wednesday: Excerpts from M.L. Weaver!<br />
Thursday: Excerpts from Nathan Squiers!<br />
Friday: Excerpts from M. Pepper Langlinais!<br />
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Along with this, I have some news. I have made Ruby, the short story companion to Obsidian, permanently FREE on <a href="http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/298469" target="_blank">Smashwords</a>. Some more great news? Obsidian is <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Obsidian-Mystic-Stones-Series-ebook/dp/B008RANXC2/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1374418336&sr=8-1&keywords=kayla+curry" target="_blank">HALF PRICE on Kindle</a> starting on Monday for the duration of the fair! Only $3.50!<br />
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Also, I have a giveaway going. It's a grab bag of my short stories. Winners can pick any story they want. Use the rafflecopter below to enter!<br />
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<a class="rafl" href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/8f1a2412/" id="rc-8f1a2412" rel="nofollow">a Rafflecopter giveaway</a><br />
<script src="//d12vno17mo87cx.cloudfront.net/embed/rafl/cptr.js"></script>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03654099780429487821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167224719486025568.post-78170270630333215712013-07-15T11:00:00.000-05:002013-07-15T11:00:01.296-05:00Empath Cover Reveal: Sign up for an ARC #NA #Romance #UrbanFantasyToday I'm part of the cover reveal blitz for Becca J. Campbell's new novel, Empath. I had the pleasure to beta read this and I think you guys will LOVE it!<br />
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<img alt="Empath eBook cover SM" class="alignright wp-image-2977" height="614" src="http://www.beccajcampbell.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/07/Empath-eBook-cover-SM-682x1024.jpg" width="409" /><br />
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I'm thrilled to unveil the cover art for my latest book, the first novel in the Flawed series. <a href="http://novakillustration.com/" target="_blank">Steven Novak</a> worked his magic and created this stunning design. <em>Empath</em> comes out August 20th, but if you are a book blogger or reviewer, you can sign up for an ARC now (details at the end of this post).
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<h3>
The Flawed Series</h3>
Flawed is a New Adult series about people with super-human weaknesses, and each book focuses on a different main character, though the characters intermingle between the books. Each individual's flaw also has an upside--sort of like on Heroes or X-Men, though this series is geared more toward Romance fans. I would classify it as Romantic Urban Fantasy with a side of Suspense.
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<h3>
<strong>Empath</strong></h3>
<div style="padding-left: 30px;">
<em>Supernatural empathy isn’t a gift, it’s a curse. Anywhere she goes, Jade’s emotions are replaced by those of the people around her.</em></div>
<div style="padding-left: 30px;">
<em>Jade grew up in a suburb of Colorado Springs, protected from other people by her parents. Now she faces college—and the world—with nothing to shield her from unwanted feelings.</em></div>
<div style="padding-left: 30px;">
<em>When Cam, a classmate with a major crush on her unintentionally hijacks her emotions, Jade struggles to keep from being carried away in feelings of attraction. When Ethan, a psychopath with a thirst for fear, fixates on her, the emotional impact could be lethal. </em></div>
<div style="padding-left: 30px;">
<em>Caught in a deadly trap, Jade must untangle the emotions and find a way to use her empathic curse to overcome this killer or be overcome by him.</em></div>
<h3>
Want an ARC? Sign up now!</h3>
Many of my beta readers have called <em>Empath</em> their favorite of my stories. Want to get a copy early? ARCs will be available in about three weeks, and you can <a href="http://www.beccajcampbell.com/request-an-arc/" target="_blank">get on my list now to secure your copy</a>. You don't have to be a blogger to get one, but you do have to agree to post your honest review to the major book sites (Amazon & Goodreads). Also, I have a limited number of ARCs and I reserve the right to deny copies on a case by case scenario.
I'm currently scheduling bloggers for the <em>Empath</em> Blog Tour, which begins September 16th. To participate you must be a blogger who focuses primarily on books. <a href="http://www.beccajcampbell.com/request-an-arc/" target="_blank">Reserve your ARC here</a>. You can also email your ARC request to me at beccajcampbell@gmail.com.
~
<strong> <a href="http://beccajcampbell.com/"><img alt="IMG_9817 a lowres" class="size-medium wp-image-2946 alignright" height="300" src="http://www.beccajcampbell.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/07/IMG_9817-a-lowres-300x300.jpg" width="300" /></a>Becca J. Campbell is the author of the New Adult Romantic Science Fiction novels <em><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0083M1OJ8" target="_blank">Foreign Identity</a></em> and <em><a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00BUG7VP0" target="_blank">Gateway to Reality</a></em>, and <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0088SZA7O/" target="_blank">Sub-Normal</a>, a series of short stories.</strong>
<strong>An avid lover of stories that tiptoe the line between fantasy and reality (even when they plunge off one side or the other), Becca looks for new angles on bridging the gap between the two. She holds a special place in her heart for any story that involves superpowers or time travel. Her passion is defying the limits of her own creativity. You can find her on her <a href="http://beccajcampbell.com/" target="_blank" title="Inspiration for Creation">Author Blog</a>, <a href="http://www.facebook.com/beccajcampbell" target="_blank" title="Becca on Facebook">Facebook</a>, <a href="https://twitter.com/beccajcampbell" target="_blank" title="Becca on Twitter">Twitter</a>, <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5287392.Becca_J_Campbell" target="_blank" title="Becca on Goodreads">Goodreads</a>, <a href="http://pinterest.com/beccajcampbell/" target="_blank">Pinterest</a>, and <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Becca-J.-Campbell/e/B005Y31BL0/" target="_blank" title="Becca's Amazon Author Page">Amazon</a>.</strong>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03654099780429487821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167224719486025568.post-32653526855498475172013-06-23T23:08:00.003-05:002013-06-23T23:08:28.122-05:00Feature: From author Patricia D. Eddy, By the Fates, FreedToday I'm hosting the book <i>By the Fates, Freed</i> by Patricia D. Eddy. It sounds like a great book and if you are okay with the warnings below, you should check it out!<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikbjterHnvK61Fo_YTrfNUD4zngVRGlvXto17yDLiOx2XR2ptVynzVA0Kqnqi9QtcZf1L5BbZa41fHYHDoUVHYO4ATdFg_UzrPynH3uOsq46rWegHSh75q7cXAxY12RWy-IqF06VNZgjX3/s1600/freed_full.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikbjterHnvK61Fo_YTrfNUD4zngVRGlvXto17yDLiOx2XR2ptVynzVA0Kqnqi9QtcZf1L5BbZa41fHYHDoUVHYO4ATdFg_UzrPynH3uOsq46rWegHSh75q7cXAxY12RWy-IqF06VNZgjX3/s400/freed_full.jpeg" width="266" /></a><br />
By the Fates, Freed is a paranormal romance novel. There are dark, mature themes and steamy sex. It is ultimately a story of love, growth, and redemption.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Blurb:</span><br />
Her unusual emerald aura makes the witch the target of a powerful devil clan. They bind her, taking her name, her voice, and her magic. Shackled inside the cold, stone walls of the devil’s prison, tortured and abused, she prays for a death she knows will not come.<br />
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Born a powerful protector, the warlock has always felt unfulfilled. His casual promise to his king’s Council results in a life-changing discovery. The imprisoned, nameless witch is his mate — the one witch he is fated to love for all eternity. He must free her or his very life will be over.<br />
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Freed, the witch must learn how to trust again. But the kind warlock with the face of a dark angel is hiding something — a secret that will give the witch the strength to help her to fulfill her destiny.<br />
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As she comes into her power, she will discover a pure truth that allows her to save herself and the man she loves.<br />
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This is the first book in the By the Fates trilogy.<br />
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Warning: This book contains disturbing and mature themes including rape and physical and mental torture. Suitable for adult audiences only.<br />
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00D9FX86G/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&sr=&qid=" target="_blank">Amazon</a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkX6eG5adUIxD666N9SMGLK41bo5mv3pHJm85O4nh5-_E6Zv9jx3Sc4ET3gUDsC2GKO7vi2yIxIVpgL3-sL8c2N12tug_aYH-Y2_USFJGzzMqZTVZMpDjhj5C5bWA8F5Tvax0_Zq78g1Fp/s1600/eddy.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkX6eG5adUIxD666N9SMGLK41bo5mv3pHJm85O4nh5-_E6Zv9jx3Sc4ET3gUDsC2GKO7vi2yIxIVpgL3-sL8c2N12tug_aYH-Y2_USFJGzzMqZTVZMpDjhj5C5bWA8F5Tvax0_Zq78g1Fp/s200/eddy.jpeg" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">About the Author:</span><br />
Patricia D. Eddy doesn't know how to relax. Really. She’s tried. But between a full time job, running, cycling, swimming, writing, reading, and the occasional movie or trivia night, it just doesn't happen. Despite routinely telling her mother that her life is boring, what she really means is that she doesn't have enough free time to get bored. She wouldn't have it any other way. She lives in Seattle with her husband and three cats. She has been known to participate in clandestine coffee bean exchanges in corner shops and is happiest when she’s mixing the perfect Manhattan.<br />
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<a href="http://www.pdeddy.com/" target="_blank">Website</a><br />
<a href="https://www.facebook.com/pdeddy.author" target="_blank">Facebook</a><br />
<a href="https://twitter.com/patricia_eddy" target="_blank">Twitter</a><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03654099780429487821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167224719486025568.post-63924689283022535062013-06-20T00:00:00.000-05:002013-06-20T00:00:07.084-05:00Feature: Colour Weilders by Dawna RaverToday, I am hosting the book, Colour Wielders by Dawna Raver. You can read the blurb, read about the author, check out the beautiful cover and maybe even buy a copy for yourself. But before that, here is a word from the author about the book:<br />
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Colour Wielders is a unique, new adult, romantic fantasy that brings to life Gods, Demi-gods, & Fae of myth and legend and blends them into the everyday world. But more than that, it is the story of two people who've been screwed over by the people they trust most, learning to trust each other and the changing world around them. -Dawna Raver<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh1UnCIalPMnx5LEh0V-sxWnKwl2kotMJEHX5kjiJppSX2_sgaKh5qQg1j7fohgHbcXWZw3Z5y84Kv1LP-hqKn8ZVLsDLSj7OiBdc70FYfTsCPlH05ZqocWuLx_u-1e1Xb_R2scw5yjEQk/s1600/ColourWielders_DawnaRaver_Cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh1UnCIalPMnx5LEh0V-sxWnKwl2kotMJEHX5kjiJppSX2_sgaKh5qQg1j7fohgHbcXWZw3Z5y84Kv1LP-hqKn8ZVLsDLSj7OiBdc70FYfTsCPlH05ZqocWuLx_u-1e1Xb_R2scw5yjEQk/s640/ColourWielders_DawnaRaver_Cover.jpg" width="425" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Blurb:</span><br />
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Behind the Faerying Mysts, hidden from Mortal eyes, is a land where gods and creatures of myth and legend dwell. And in the Mortal Realm, their Princess is hidden away.<br />
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Quinn Sinclair lives an ordinary life with her less-than-loving mother in Conifer, Colorado, clueless of her true nature. On the night of her birthday, a staggering betrayal sends her life spinning out-of-control. As she struggles to pick up the pieces, a vision of a man with haunting tourmaline-blue eyes begs her for help, and she is transported into a Magykal battle—forever changing her life.<br />
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Arik Morgaine—Demigod bad boy and outcast of the Magykal Realm—tried to avoid contact with Princess Quinn for eighteen years, not wanting to make good on an old threat. But the fates have other plans.<br />
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Arik can no longer deny his growing desire for Quinn, or the need to protect her from those wanting to control her burgeoning powers.<br />
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Can the two of them come together and save the Magykal Realm from being destroyed by the Darkest of Magyks?<br />
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Colour-Wielders-Heirs-Magykal-ebook/dp/B00CFKG7DM" target="_blank">Check it out on Amazon!</a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnU7NeEs9tp2MEKK9PHt842MxBX-ZZ3WeyCr8IYBpkIWqqw61ZTtTaNhAgHjn-3TRniDCy_IA4Zb7OJQm9xwBf33wK5duNU2VitelDQuf3u9RqqGvrU0XCDlOj6l5ITO0FEhRMuxZYmG4z/s1600/DawnaFlowers.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnU7NeEs9tp2MEKK9PHt842MxBX-ZZ3WeyCr8IYBpkIWqqw61ZTtTaNhAgHjn-3TRniDCy_IA4Zb7OJQm9xwBf33wK5duNU2VitelDQuf3u9RqqGvrU0XCDlOj6l5ITO0FEhRMuxZYmG4z/s320/DawnaFlowers.png" width="320" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">About the Author:</span><br />
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Dawna Raver is an author of paranormal romance and urban fantasy. Colour Wielders, book one of the Heirs of the Magykal Realm series, is her debut novel. When she's not spending time in her fantasy world, Dawna loves football, reading, and pretending she's a top chef in the kitchen. Oh, and fawning over her dogs and husband, sometimes in that order.<br />
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<a href="https://twitter.com/DawnaRaver" target="_blank">Twitter</a><br />
<a href="https://www.facebook.com/DawnaRaver" target="_blank">Facebook</a><br />
<a href="http://dawnaraver.com/" target="_blank">Website</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03654099780429487821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167224719486025568.post-1088137491308771972013-06-14T18:08:00.001-05:002013-06-15T11:17:54.712-05:00Martin Sisters Publishing brings you Moonstone very soon!Moonstone is in the queue over at Martin Sisters Publishing. We'll be prepping it for release over the next few months. Before the second book in the series is released, however, I must give a shout out to my awesome publisher.<br />
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Martin Sisters Publishing is a quickly growing small publisher that really cares about the books they publish.<br />
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I found this publisher through Writer's Market. If you don't have a current Writer's Market and you are planning on going with traditional publication, you really need to pick one up.<br />
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MSP is run by two sisters who do most of the work themselves. They are good at what they do and they are passionate about putting out great books from all sorts of genres. Also, like a true publisher, they take care of all costs associated with publishing and they walk you through the entire process.<br />
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You can learn more about them and all the awesome books they've published on their website <a href="http://www.martinsisterspublishing.com/">www.martinsisterspublishing.com</a>. You can also visit and follow their <a href="http://martinsisterspublishing.blogspot.com/">Martin Sisters Book blog</a> which will soon be busy with posts from the authors who have worked with MSP.<br />
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Also, don't forget to like them on <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Martin-Sisters-Publishing/322672394501337">Facebook</a> and follow them on <a href="https://twitter.com/MSistersPublish">Twitter</a>!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03654099780429487821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167224719486025568.post-28872758916076238562013-06-13T12:40:00.001-05:002013-06-13T12:40:31.106-05:00New feature on Paranormal Lounge!Hello! I've come up with a new way to help promote you and your books!<br />
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There are actually two ways on my <a href="http://paranormallounge.blogspot.com/p/get-featured.html" target="_blank">Get Featured</a> page.<br />
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The first is a feature on this blog, and it is for paranormal books only. Just fill out the form and I'll be in touch.<br />
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The second is a tweet to my 2,000+ followers. The tweet can be about any book or writing related subject and you can send me a tweet once per week. The only thing I ask in return is that you follow me on twitter. I will follow you back too, which is a win/win situation.<br />
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Both of these services are FREE, but please respect the rules. Do not try to get your mystery featured on Paranormal Lounge and do not send me more than one tweet per week.<br />
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I'm looking forward to hearing from you on these forms and can't wait to help you expand your reach!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03654099780429487821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167224719486025568.post-71153407915631531782013-06-05T00:00:00.000-05:002013-06-05T00:00:07.010-05:00The Places You Don’t Want To Go: A guest post by author Kourtney Heintz<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Before I get started,
I just want to thank Kayla for letting me write a guest post on her blog! *Big
Wave*<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Writing about a world where out-of-control telepathy existed
sounded so cool; but writing from the point of view of an out-of-control
telepath named Kai didn’t. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2sNySGo1Fexwfiye3OJbcDDTR0kM16HxdWkwZxD0sawOJLv6MAkq-09O5OKIVK7Fc6PCSOBuo44OUQVS3zXo-zK8SimQo2nc6d7jgxfRzIEd1qx8ESuGcUYsliNHX6wBTQB98urPWiur0/s1600/SixTraintoWisconsin1600.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2sNySGo1Fexwfiye3OJbcDDTR0kM16HxdWkwZxD0sawOJLv6MAkq-09O5OKIVK7Fc6PCSOBuo44OUQVS3zXo-zK8SimQo2nc6d7jgxfRzIEd1qx8ESuGcUYsliNHX6wBTQB98urPWiur0/s400/SixTraintoWisconsin1600.jpeg" width="273" /></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I had no idea how to get inside her mind and not get lost there. So
I stayed on the periphery telling everything from the perspective of my other
protagonist, her husband, Oliver. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">It was easier to learn about her powers from him. To understand her
through his eyes. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">So I let Oliver be the point-of-view character for most of <i>The Six Train to Wisconsin</i>. As her
abilities came under control, I reached a point where the story required her to
be the narrator. Only then did I plunge into Kai’s point of view. And it was
thrilling. Her powers affected her perception and her thought patterns. Her
abilities intertwined with her so deeply and enriched her character so much. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I fell deeply in love with her character and realized I was doing
a huge disservice to Kai. By refusing to go into her point of view in the
beginning, my readers missed out on a key element of who she was. Or at least
who she could be in her worst moments. The telling moments. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">After I finished my third round of revisions, I knew Kai so well,
I felt nearly certain I was up to the task of capturing her at her worst and
still telling the story. I struggled with how much of her powers would eclipse
a scene and how to not have the powers front and center all the time. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">This wasn’t simply a story about telepathy. This was a story about
a woman whose out-of-control ability threatened her life and a husband whose
secret threatened their future. So I had to pick and chose the moments where her
ability took center stage and the moments that it had to be a background player
to the emotions or the plot. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">There were times I had to go back and add more details about her
abilities and other places I had to scale back. Sometimes I got so into how the
powers worked I’d lose myself in them. It’s a dangerous path for a writer. Just
because you’re enamored with the mechanisms of your world building doesn’t mean
anyone else is. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">One of the hardest things was figuring out ways to limit her
abilities. I played with the idea of shield. The telepathy could reside in the
background when she formed a psychic shield. Others could block her out with
their shields. I didn’t want her powers to remove the opportunity for confusion
and misunderstandings. In fact, I wanted them to exacerbate them.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">In the end, the character that was the hardest to write became my
favorite one. She challenged me and made me a better a writer. And I am so
grateful that I stepped outside my comfort zone and into hers.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj8zWtOjj6Hx8yNGc00fT28ZCjy2yMg3PWjyMH_hA5zM2INqNgbQ6Fezb-KWYOHsDWF5Tw9QQfSC0OP0dnB306kd0GkKG_lzf5lD3wMr7hO8EttCzCmpbH4WIdjQWFfIBgskRXG8rrI1Qi/s1600/IMG_0891.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj8zWtOjj6Hx8yNGc00fT28ZCjy2yMg3PWjyMH_hA5zM2INqNgbQ6Fezb-KWYOHsDWF5Tw9QQfSC0OP0dnB306kd0GkKG_lzf5lD3wMr7hO8EttCzCmpbH4WIdjQWFfIBgskRXG8rrI1Qi/s200/IMG_0891.jpg" width="150" /></span></a><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">Author Bio:<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">Kourtney
Heintz writes emotionally evocative speculative fiction that captures the
deepest truths of being human. For her characters, love is a journey never a
destination. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">She
resides in Connecticut with her warrior lapdog, Emerson, her supportive parents
and three quirky golden retrievers. Years of working on Wall Street provided
the perfect backdrop for her imagination to run amuck at night, imagining a
world where out-of-control telepathy and buried secrets collide.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">Her
debut speculative fiction novel, <i>The Six
Train to Wisconsin</i>, was a 2012 Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award
Semifinalist.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">The Six Train to Wisconsin Back
Cover:<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">Sometimes saving the person you
love can cost you everything. <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">There is
one person that ties Oliver Richter to this world: his wife Kai. For Kai,
Oliver is the keeper of her secrets.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">When her
telepathy spirals out of control and inundates her mind with the thoughts and
emotions of everyone within a half-mile radius, the life they built together in
Manhattan is threatened. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">To save her,
Oliver brings her to the hometown he abandoned—Butternut, Wisconsin—where the
secrets of his past remain buried. But the past has a way of refusing to stay
dead. Can Kai save Oliver before his secrets claim their future?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">An
emotionally powerful debut, <i>The Six Train
to Wisconsin</i> pushes the bounds of love as it explores devotion, forgiveness
and acceptance.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><u><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">My Links<o:p></o:p></span></span></u></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Website: </span></b><a href="http://kourtneyheintz.com/"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">http://kourtneyheintz.com</span></b></a><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Blog: </span></b><a href="http://kourtneyheintz.wordpress.com/"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">http://kourtneyheintz.wordpress.com</span></b></a><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Facebook Page: </span></b><a href="http://www.facebook.com/kourtneyheintzwriter"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">http://www.facebook.com/kourtneyheintzwriter</span></b></a><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Twitter: </span></b><a href="http://twitter.com/KourHei"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">http://twitter.com/KourHei</span></b></a><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Goodreads: </span></b><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/goodreadscomkourtney_heintz"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">http://www.goodreads.com/goodreadscomkourtney_heintz</span></b></a><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Amazon Author Central Page: </span></b><a href="http://amazon.com/author/kourtneyheintz"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">http://amazon.com/author/kourtneyheintz</span></b></a><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Pinterest: </span></b><a href="http://pinterest.com/kourhei"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">http://pinterest.com/kourhei</span></b></a><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><u><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">Buy Links<o:p></o:p></span></span></u></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">Paperback available from:<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Six-Train-Wisconsin-1/dp/1481884573/ref=la_B00CJO8DZO_1_1_title_0_main?ie=UTF8&qid=1368115086&sr=1-1"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Amazon</span></b></a><span class="MsoHyperlink"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1115206190?ean=9781481884570&itm=1&usri=the+six+train+to+wisconsin"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Barnes
and Noble</span></b></a></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><u><span style="color: blue; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></u></b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">Ebook
available from:<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Six-Train-Wisconsin-ebook/dp/B00CJIXKG2/ref=la_B00CJO8DZO_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1367266926&sr=1-1"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Amazon</span></b></a><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-six-train-to-wisconsin-kourtney-heintz/1115206190?ean=2940016667874"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Barnes and Noble</span></b></a><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/307077"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Smashwords</span></b></a><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.kobobooks.com/ebook/The-Six-Train-to-Wisconsin/book-LIAIKutfu06HXnsvyK2aBQ/page1.html?s=wOSOeDqIc0Sin32fvazzRw&r=1"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Kobo</span></b></a><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></b></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/the-six-train-to-wisconsin/id638545987?mt=11"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">iTunes</span></span></b></a><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03654099780429487821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167224719486025568.post-53054112455555552672013-06-02T00:00:00.000-05:002013-06-02T00:00:00.670-05:00Blogger Book Fair sign ups are almost closed! Hurry and sign up today!<div class="MsoNormal">
<h2>
Check in to the Blogger Book Fair,<o:p></o:p></h2>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
and book your trip to far away places!</div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<h3>
July 22-26, 2013</h3>
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<img alt="" class="alignright size-full wp-image-6558" height="200" src="http://scotzig.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/BBF.jpg" width="200" /><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<em>Authors and Book Bloggers,</em><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sign ups for the July 2013 Blogger Book Fair will close on
<strong>June 15 at midnight central time</strong>, so get your
registrations in to participate!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<h4>
As of 5/31/2013, we have:</h4>
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Authors: 89<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Books: 233<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Bloggers: 14<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If you haven't yet registered, you can find all of the
information on the <a href="http://bloggerbookfair.blogspot.com/2013/04/bbf-all-in-one-announcement.html">Blogger
Book Fair</a> page.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<ol><o:p></o:p></ol>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<li><span style="line-height: 15px;">Check out the <a href="http://bloggerbookfair.blogspot.com/2013/04/code-of-conduct.html">Code
of Conduct</a></span></li>
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<li>Fill
out either the <a href="https://docs.google.com/spreadsheet/viewform?formkey=dENIY0Z5N2FRNWZtbGptRW5sSW9sQ2c6MQ#gid=0">Author
Sign Up</a> form or the <a href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/1QhKIy4lp74FEBmbksAEKtWHJO-m0M3M3Pk0qND3u1Bc/viewform">Blogger
Sign Up form</a> (Deadline June 15)</li>
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<li>Kayla
will match everyone with hosts and send out this information to you after
sign-ups close</li>
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<li>Check
out the events--all authors are eligible to participate in the events, and if
you have an event you'd like to host, just fill out the simple Event Sign Up
Form--all of this information can be found on the <a href="http://bloggerbookfair.blogspot.com/p/events_5.html">Events!</a> page
(Deadline July 8).</li>
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<li>If
you're interested in hosting a giveaway to drive traffic to your site, sign up
via the<a href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/1Ku0Uy7pks51MQa-l4btJiG06fFhO3dp2p66s41vB-cQ/viewform">
Giveaway Sign Up</a> form (Deadline July 15).</li>
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<li>And
if your book will be FREE or $0.99 for the duration of the Fair, you can sign
up on the <b><a href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/1es3nSEYK4RDwIFPIj8FAxyL3MKTLCpqwQDYGXGgawAo/viewform">Free</a> and <a href="https://docs.google.com/forms/d/1lgnKAZ_mgG_YlRgBfs54fJ41C8Jp7dcQguyG-kQ19Rk/viewform">$.99
Book</a> Sign Up Forms (Deadline July 15).</b></li>
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<h3>
Events<span style="font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.62em;">:</span></h3>
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<h6>
as of 5/31/2013</h6>
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<h4>
Art Fiction Gala hosted by Lucie Smoker</h4>
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Does your fiction promote the visual arts--through featuring
an artist, painting, sculpture, performance art, etc? Then, consider entering
Lucie's Art Fiction Gala.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The Art Fiction Gala is a virtual celebration of fiction
that highlights the visual arts. Dress up in your finest, pick up some
friends--a bottle of wine--and sample mind-blowing fiction that crosses the
line between literary and visual art. Plus a gallery of art featuring reading.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://bloggerbookfair.blogspot.com/2013/04/event-art-fiction-gala-hosted-by-lucie.html">More
information & entry instructions</a><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<h4>
Three Wishes hosted by Kirstin Pulioff</h4>
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Introduce your characters to the world.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Kirstin Pulioff invites you to ask your main character,
"<i>If you found a magic genie lamp, what would be your three
choices?</i>"<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://bloggerbookfair.blogspot.com/2013/04/event-three-wishes-hosted-by-kirstin.html">More
information & entry instructions</a><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div>
<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<h4>
<span style="font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.62em;">Flash Fiction Challenge II hosted by Thomas
Winship</span></h4>
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Get ready to exercise your flash fiction muscles.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For the Flash Fiction Challenge II, Thomas Winship will provide
an opening line.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
From there, entrants will craft a flash fiction piece of
approx 500 words. Entries will be displayed on Thomas' blog Vaempires during
the BBF, spread out evenly across the five days, in order of receipt.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://bloggerbookfair.blogspot.com/2013/04/event-flash-fiction-challenge-ii-hosted.html">More
information & entry instructions</a><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div>
<span style="font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.62em;">Snapshot Synopsis Contest
hosted by Fel at The Peasants Revolt</span></div>
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Challenge: chisel your synopsis down to 50 words or less.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Voting will be open throughout the fair for visitors to vote
on their favorite <i>Snapshot Synopsis.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<a href="http://bloggerbookfair.blogspot.com/2013/04/event-snapshot-synopsis-contest-hosted.html">More
information & entry instructions</a><o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<h4>
Reader's Choice Awards hosted by Sherri at Shut Up
& Read</h4>
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
All books registered for the Blogger Book Fair are
automatically entered into the running for the Reader's Choice Awards. Voting
will be open from July 22 to July 25.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://bloggerbookfair.blogspot.com/2013/04/event-readers-choice-awards-hosted-by.html">More
information</a><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<h4>
Indie Soap Box Files hosted by Shah
Wharton</h4>
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Take a turn on the Soap Box.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Shah invites speculative fiction writers to write a guest
post about being an indie (or hybrid) writer.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://bloggerbookfair.blogspot.com/2013/05/event-indie-soap-box-files.html">More
information & entry instructions<o:p></o:p></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Restrictions: Speculative fiction writers only</div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div>
<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<h4>
Monster Menagerie hosted by Noree at Trip the
Eclipse</h4>
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What's your favorite monster or supernatural creature?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Feature your creature in a flash fiction piece (500-800)
words to be featured on Trip the Eclipse. Visitors will vote on their favorite
piece.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://bloggerbookfair.blogspot.com/2013/05/event-monster-menagerie-hosted-by-noree.html">More
information & entry instructions</a><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div>
<span style="font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.62em;">Ways to
Help:</span></div>
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<strong><a href="http://bloggerbookfair.blogspot.com/p/supporters-of-bbf.html"><img alt="Blogger Book Fair" class="alignleft" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzmRYBB1Ggswub2oE9MnFY1ntpH_8iMb_PWBVJbiPCxKB5xQ7_psawwfEX6ayK8q28oDWDqiHcsrCltF6t31Vwg7ke_5rz7sVJMSZthoHH_E_jjhJyedMOKOw3KfpV_livfM-mkJmh2bsu/s1600/donation+button+copy.jpg" width="200" /></a>Donate to the
Blogger Book Fair</strong> via the <a href="http://bloggerbookfair.blogspot.com/p/supporters-of-bbf.html">BBF
Donation Fund</a>. To help get the word out about BBF, we would like to
place ads on Facebook, Goodreads and other places, but to do, so we need a
little help. We'd also like to have some BBF sponsored giveaways, so money
donated would also go toward prizes. NO MONEY WILL BE KEPT BY ANY ORGANIZER OR
PARTICIPANT.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<strong>Spread the word! </strong>Share the
Fair on your social media accounts and show off the Blogger Book Fair logo in
your blog's sidebar.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<h3>
Join us on:</h3>
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<ul><o:p></o:p></ul>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<li><a href="https://www.facebook.com/bloggerbookfair?directed_target_id=0"><span style="line-height: 15px;">Facebook</span></a></li>
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<li><a href="https://twitter.com/BloggerBookFair">Twitter</a></li>
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<li><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/group/show/77813-blogger-book-fair">Goodreads</a></li>
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<li><a href="https://plus.google.com/u/0/communities/112006140604465070318">Google
+</a></li>
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<o:p></o:p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03654099780429487821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167224719486025568.post-59983615919945663532013-06-01T12:34:00.001-05:002013-06-01T12:34:05.308-05:00New Short Story Release! Vibe: Grey Apathy is Now Available!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd2PUxGyx3u6cJwswM0VCsLmva2r98uGs80ZJ9kLQ_huO6ds66UnfLk7Oggq2DB-AQfxxhY5qPYlpJPCptolDi4W0hjKY9or01PK6b9nNHqeliqhKkGwncvaA7fS462njp091CDB1O5Nnl/s1600/Vibe+1+Grey+Apathy+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd2PUxGyx3u6cJwswM0VCsLmva2r98uGs80ZJ9kLQ_huO6ds66UnfLk7Oggq2DB-AQfxxhY5qPYlpJPCptolDi4W0hjKY9or01PK6b9nNHqeliqhKkGwncvaA7fS462njp091CDB1O5Nnl/s400/Vibe+1+Grey+Apathy+copy.jpg" width="263" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">Vibe Grey Apathy is the first installment of my short story series. It's about 8800 words long and is perfect for those who love crime, science fiction, dystopian societies and a bit of the paranormal.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Here is the blurb:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Welcome to a world where emotions have become weapons, currency and livelihood. Welcome to Vibe City.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Greys feed on apathy. The only problem with that is they sometimes soak up so much apathy, they experience the emotion so strongly that they can't make themselves do anything. Even feeding becomes a chore that may or may not get done. Everyone knows you can't feed on your own emotion. So if you're isolated enough, you could end up drained.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Prism is a detective with problems of her own. She's been off the job for a while, but now she's back and working with a transfer named Atramen on the case of the drained grey. Being a color wheel has its advantages and disadvantages. The power to make anyone feel any emotion you want them to is a pro, but being bombarded 24/7 with the emotions of others is most definitely a con. Can Prism and Atramen find the killer and overcome the obstacles associated with a new partnership?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Get it now on <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00D4DLT3M" target="_blank">Amazon</a> or <a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/321879" target="_blank">Smashwords</a> because it's only $0.99!</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03654099780429487821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167224719486025568.post-524423293956843552013-05-27T00:00:00.000-05:002013-05-27T00:00:07.352-05:00Today's Feature: Shadowed by Ken Hughes!Today I'm featuring a book that sounds really awesome! It's called Shadowed and the author, Ken Hughes came up with a very interesting premise. Check it out:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZAySmuuES3TCrTtoDRsB3q097NJexBJ21cxGP4QxsTlIICLNYG2cV0tBc0zLkq-JzWvW5jHGVDY9TS7mUZCO8zoYJy3yIPYenD0pvhVWsG1XGId4OXV28Sgx3_uhT3pERAjdOO9FECnDY/s1600/Shadowed_CoverDesign_020112_300dpi1-200x300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZAySmuuES3TCrTtoDRsB3q097NJexBJ21cxGP4QxsTlIICLNYG2cV0tBc0zLkq-JzWvW5jHGVDY9TS7mUZCO8zoYJy3yIPYenD0pvhVWsG1XGId4OXV28Sgx3_uhT3pERAjdOO9FECnDY/s400/Shadowed_CoverDesign_020112_300dpi1-200x300.jpg" width="266" /></a><b><span style="font-size: large;">Blurb:</span></b><br />
He can hear a whisper a block away… and can’t remember why.<br />
Paul lives in hiding, struggling to control preternatural senses no secret is safe from, and certain that nobody suspects he exists. And now he must risk everything to protect the family he left and face enemies more ruthless than his worst fears… because the one person who knows what happened, is the one who did it to him.<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Shadowed-ebook/dp/B0076OU90O/ref=dp_kinw_strp_1" target="_blank">Link to Amazon</a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaKzga1oxeTuyNGjjKiM5NoW-8n81JneCDg9XajILUREclGJNthK5LyuR6g5ZEModzOYww4GZqgT0tXvT9P-1cPYlrozgTaC8T9JC4taMwvg20bSYodr56LMQdaf5VMDjpQ0dkGwcQn0Ft/s1600/KenHughes_1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaKzga1oxeTuyNGjjKiM5NoW-8n81JneCDg9XajILUREclGJNthK5LyuR6g5ZEModzOYww4GZqgT0tXvT9P-1cPYlrozgTaC8T9JC4taMwvg20bSYodr56LMQdaf5VMDjpQ0dkGwcQn0Ft/s200/KenHughes_1.JPG" width="133" /></a><b><span style="font-size: large;">Author Bio:</span></b><br />
Ken Hughes has been living for storytelling since his father first read him The Wind In The Willows, and everything from Stephen King’s edge to Hayao Miyazaki’s sense of wonder has only fed that fire. He has worked as a technical writer in Los Angeles at positions from medical research to online gaming to mission proposals for a flight to Mars. For more about his stories, songs, and his Unified Writing Field Theory, see www.kenhughesauthor.com.<br />
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<a href="http://www.kenhughesauthor.com/" target="_blank">Link to Website</a><br />
<a href="https://www.facebook.com/kenhughesauthor" target="_blank">Link to Facebook</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03654099780429487821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167224719486025568.post-5155607525781407882013-05-16T12:07:00.001-05:002013-05-16T12:07:15.044-05:00A letter to my lovely and awesome readers.Dear Readers,<br />
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I want you to know that I appreciate everyone who stops by this blog. I know I've been slacking lately, but things have been busy. My lack of posts isn't what I want to talk to you about today. I want to talk to you about an issue that has recently showed it's face. Apparently, some writers out there think that readers are a machine that needs to be fed and right now readers want erotic romance and that is what everyone should be writing if they want to make money.<br />
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Well, I don't have any problem with erotic romance. I read it, but I don't write it. I'm not going to write it just because it's popular right now. I don't think I'd be any good at it and I won't subject you to that kind of torture. Regardless of genre, I will always write what I feel like writing. Some of that may find it's way to you. Some of it might sit on my computer for years and years. The point is, I'm not going to publish everything I write just because I want to make money.<br />
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I do not see you, the reader, as a wallet waiting to be emptied. I have great respect for you and the only reason I write is to <i>connect</i> with you. Anyone who picks up my books or stories is likely to have something in common with me. The communication may be one way, (Me talking to you through the story) but I do love talking to many of you on social media sites, through this blog, and sometimes via email. Honestly, your support is all I need.<br />
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If you only enter giveaways because you can't afford to buy your books, I STILL appreciate you, because you are putting in an effort to read something that I wrote. I would be very honored to meet anyone who read something of mine whether you won it in a contest, borrowed it from a friend, or paid for it with your hard earned money.<br />
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I've been a little down in the dumps lately, because I didn't think anyone was buying my book. The other day I got my royalty statement and I was surprised to see that I'd sold more print books than I did ebooks. I couldn't believe it. My print books are fairly expensive compared to others and there were people out there who wanted to spend that money to read what I wrote and own a physical copy of it. If you are one of those people, or even if you are just reading this post, I want to thank you. You are not part of a machine. You are all living, breathing individuals with opinions of your own and you deserve the best.<br />
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I started this blog because I want to connect with other people who like the paranormal genre, not because I want to shove my book down your throat. I would really love to know how YOU think I can improve this blog before I post anything else, so please tell me what you want to see in the comments. I want to make this blog about you, not me.<br />
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With much appreciation,<br />
Kayla CurryAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03654099780429487821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4167224719486025568.post-20271960392788143302013-05-09T11:00:00.000-05:002013-05-09T22:27:46.595-05:00New Release Alert! Frostwalker by Brandon R. Luffman<div style="text-align: center;">
<strong>New Release Announcement:</strong></div>
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<strong></strong>Frostwalker, By Brandon R. Luffman</h1>
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<strong><span style="font-size: 13px;">A Survival Horror Novel</span></strong></div>
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<img alt="Title Artwork" class="alignnone size-full wp-image-132" height="120" src="http://brandonrluffman.files.wordpress.com/2012/02/titleartwork.png" title="Title Artwork" width="549" /></div>
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There’s something in the woods behind Jake Marsden’s house – and someone wants him to find it. A strange dream shatters his sleep, night after night, and a compulsion to find the dark presence in the forest wars with his logical and ordered nature. What’s a geek to do?<br />
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When his small hometown of Wynn, North Carolina falls under an ancient curse, Jake will find himself in a battle against creatures worse than any he’s faced in a game. Playing for keeps, it will be geek versus god in the fight to stop an evil force bent on destroying everything he holds dear.<br />
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<strong>The Geek Shall Inherit The Earth – If They Live Long Enough.</strong><br />
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<a href="http://brandonrluffman.files.wordpress.com/2012/02/newprecovertitledsmall1.jpg"><img alt="Front Cover Art" class="size-medium wp-image-143 aligncenter" height="300" src="http://brandonrluffman.files.wordpress.com/2012/02/newprecovertitledsmall1.jpg?w=248" width="248" /></a></div>
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<strong>Read excerpts posted on Brandon's blog:</strong><br />
<a href="http://brandonrluffman.wordpress.com/2013/03/18/frostwalker-excerpt-dreams-of-smoke/" target="_blank" title="Frostwalker Excerpt – Dreams Of Smoke">Excerpt #1 - Dreams Of Smoke </a><br />
<a href="http://brandonrluffman.wordpress.com/2013/03/28/frostwalker-excerpt-the-pit/" target="_blank" title="Frostwalker Excerpt – The Pit">Excerpt #2 - The Pit</a><br />
<a href="http://brandonrluffman.wordpress.com/2013/04/14/frostwalker-excerpt-opening-scene-jake-walks-the-field/" target="_blank" title="Frostwalker Excerpt – Opening Scene: Jake Walks The Field">Excerpt #3 - Opening Scene: Jake Walks The Field </a><br />
<a href="http://brandonrluffman.wordpress.com/2013/04/21/frostwalker-excerpt-deputy-fallon-gets-busy/" target="_blank" title="Frostwalker Excerpt – Deputy Fallon Gets Busy">Excerpt #4 - Deputy Fallon Gets Busy</a></div>
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<strong>Read the first third of the book for free at the Smashwords link below!</strong></div>
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<strong>Grab Your Copy Today!</strong></h1>
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<strong>Paperback - $7.99:</strong></h3>
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<a href="https://www.createspace.com/4215180" target="_blank" title="CreateSpace">CreateSpace </a><br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Frostwalker-Brandon-R-Luffman/dp/1483919439/" target="_blank" title="Amazon">Amazon</a></div>
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<strong>Ebook/Kindle - $3.99:</strong></h3>
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<a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/313932?ref=BrandonRLuffman" target="_blank" title="Smashwords">Smashwords</a><br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00COM7RU8" target="_blank" title="Amazon">Amazon</a><br />
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<strong>More Retailers To Come!</strong><br />
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About Brandon R. Luffman<br />
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<img alt="Brandon Luffman" class="aligncenter size-thumbnail wp-image-46" height="122" src="http://brandonrluffman.files.wordpress.com/2011/12/authorphoto1-1bw.jpg?w=150" width="150" /></div>
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Born in Statesboro, Georgia in 1976, Brandon Luffman was raised in rural North Carolina from the time he was old enough to walk. In the sixth grade he discovered “The Chronicles Of Narnia”. Soon after that, he was on to Stephen King and Arthur C. Clarke. At the same time, he was making his first forays into writing fiction. After creating a series of short fantasy pieces for a class assignment that were received with praise, he was hooked on writing fiction for the entertainment of others. Now Brandon writes supernatural horror as well as fantasy, science fiction, and other genres. His short fiction is available online in various formats. Brandon still lives on the family farm in northwestern North Carolina with his wife and family. Taking inspiration from his homeland, he brings southern sensibilities and a modern flair to these classic genre themes. His first novel, <a href="http://brandonrluffman.wordpress.com/frostwalker/" title="Frostwalker"><em>Frostwalker</em></a>, was released in May of 2013.</div>
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<strong>Find Brandon Online</strong></div>
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<a href="http://brandonrluffman.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">Blog</a> | <a href="https://www.facebook.com/BRLuffman" target="_blank">Facebook </a>| <a href="https://twitter.com/#!/BrandonRLuffman" target="_blank">Twitter</a> | <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5820186.Brandon_R_Luffman" target="_blank">Goodreads </a>| <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Brandon-Luffman/e/B006N88OP6" target="_blank">Amazon</a> | <a href="http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/BrandonRLuffman" target="_blank">Smashwords</a></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03654099780429487821noreply@blogger.com0