Guest Post: Stuart R West

Aine, thanks for having me on your blog to blather on about the Tex, the Witch Boy series. It’s a trilogy of YA, paranormal, thriller, mystery, comedic romance books. More importantly, the books tackle tough topical issues teens face daily. I want teens to know they’re not alone in their trauma, let them know there’s hope and better things on the horizon.

Tex is an ordinary teen. Awkward in his own skin. Bullied, unsure of his future, no idea what he’s doing. Worse, he’s inherited his late mother’s witchcraft powers, definitely not his choice. He’s aided by his mother’s mentor, a blue-haired, old woman. She’s fast with a head-slap, faster with her cigarette lighter. The girl he likes, Olivia, is a warrior. She takes down the high school’s scariest bully with a fire extinguisher. Then there’s Elspeth, the mysterious punker girl who’s introduced in Tex and the Gangs of Suburbia. I can’t tell you about her because she’s shrouded in mystery and then I might have to kill you. You’ll have to read the books. Really. It’s for your own safety.

Tex and the God Squad, the third and final book in the Tex series, wraps everything up. It’s about teen suicide, gay issues, religion (although, it’s not a religious book), and, of course, bad cooking from Tex’s father’s girlfriend. Ghastly. Possibly the scariest part of the trilogy. I mean, honestly, wait ‘til you hear about her recipes. Talk about horror.

Now, I must admit, I’ve already come under fire about the controversial nature of Tex and the God Squad. The bad guys—the ”Clarendon Baptist Church”—are a thinly veiled portrait of the, sadly, very real Westboro Baptist Church. I can’t make up heinous villains like this. Wish my writing skills were that good. But they’re very real. And very despicable.

Living in Kansas, I feel I must apologize for the WBC as they’re an unfortunate byproduct of my state. Sorry, sorry, sorry. But I’m doing my part. Read the book and see how Tex takes these idiots down.

Tex and the God Squad (third book)
Tex and the Gangs of Suburbia (second book)
Tex, the Witch Boy (first book)
Bloggity-Blog
Tex, the Witch Boy Book Trailer:

Guest Post: Seleste deLaney

Today on the blog I have Seleste deLaney, a fabulous author and fantastic friend. I absolutely loved Badlands and was thrilled when I heard CLockwork Mafia was coming out soon. Next Tuesday, to be exact. If you haven't read Badands, now is the time!

Why Men Don’t Rule

All authors get questions about the worlds they create, and we often try to answer those either directly or in future installments in a series. One of the biggest questions I get about the Badlands is how the prison system works and how that feeds into the political situation. It was a question I answered in Clockwork Mafia (at least a little), but the scene slowed down the pacing too much and was cut from a page and a half to two paragraphs. (Please bear in mind that since this was cut, it has not been edited.)

However, since people want to know…I want to share. (WARNING: the snippet has a teeny-tiny spoiler in it, but nothing that will hamper your enjoyment of Clockwork Mafia when you read it later. Because you will, right? I’d really like it if you did…)

~~*~~

…Of course, when the guard unlocked his door in the morning, instead of rushing forward to get out, he stepped back, his mouth open.

The guard peered into his cell. “Are you coming out or not? The queen said I should take you to the room where Dr. Mason was storing her things.”

“B-b-but…” Tobias tugged on his shirt in an effort to compose himself. “But you’re a man.”

Chuckling, the guard smoothed his beard. “Last I checked. Don’t let that fool you though, women still rule here. Quite frankly, I don’t want it to be any different.” He waved a hand toward the corridor.

Tobias picked up his jacket and dusted it off before stepping from the cell. “Why? It would seem once prisoners are released they’d band together to take power.”

“That’s Union thinking.” He waved at another guard—a woman this time—who unlocked the door leading to an open area surrounded by guardrooms. Once they entered, she moved to the other door and unlocked it, releasing them into the fortress proper. “You see. The Union says a man needs to be locked up for five years, ten years—however long—then they let ‘em out. Time served.

“Ain’t like that here. Just getting to the prison means we want to reform. Those warriors that man the borders don’t force anyone to come here. You run; you die. You put up more than minimal fight after finding out the rules; you die.” They twisted and turned down more corridors than Tobias could track, but perhaps that was the plan. “The men in those cells are the ones who want to change. In the Union, we’d be treated the same as the ones who go right back to doing wrong. No jobs, no homes, no lives. Here? Once we get out of the cells here, we’re human.

“Since Queen Laurette took the throne, there’s more opportunities than ever. She believes in what’s right, not just what’s right for women.” The guard opened another door at last and waved him in. “Why the hell would we try to destroy a world that treats us better than the one we came from?”

Dust from the floor stirred as Tobias entered and he covered his mouth to keep from coughing. “But what about power? Surely you strive for more than being a guard.”

Scoffing, the man reached in and swept a hand gently over the dimly glowing lichen on the walls, making them flare to life. He pointed to the far corner. “Broom’s over there if the dust really bothers you. As for me? I had power as a criminal and look what it got me—one cell to another until they shipped me across the river to a cell here. Too many people can’t handle power, men or women. It’s the reason they treat everyone, including criminals, the way they do here. You aren’t born to position; you earn it. Some men come out to be stable hands because that’s what they decided to earn. There ain’t much I want more right now than to make sure the men inside understand what they can do.”

~~*~~

If you have any questions about the men and the prison system, now’s the time to ask! I’ll answer as many as I can between now and the Romantic Times Booklovers’ Convention next week (look me up if you’ll be there!)

Clockwork Mafia:

Inventor Henrietta Mason is retiring from airships and adventuring to return home to Philadelphia. Determined to erase all trails leading to her late father's duplicity, she dismantles his lab and removes all records of the Badlands gold. While in the city, she can't resist the lure of a charity gala but winds up regretting the whole experience. Well, everything except a heart-racing dance with a certain U.S. Marshal.His career and vengeance on the line, Carson Alexander must prove a connection between Senator Mason and the mafia. He lucked out happening across Mason's strikingly beautiful daughter, only to have her slip through his fingers. On a desperate hunt to track her down, he never expects his search to take him into the brutal Badlands.

With a mechanically enhanced enforcer after them, only Carson knows the extent of the danger they face. He'll have to win over Henrietta's trust, and her heart, before it's too late...

Buy at:
Carina Press
Amazon
Amazon UK
Amazon CA
Barnes and Noble
All Romance Ebooks
Audible
Books-A-Million

If you aren’t going to be able to see her next week at the Romantic Times Booklovers’ Convention—or even if you are—you can also find Seleste around the internet:
Website
Blog
Twitter
Pinterest
Facebook Page
Facebook Profile

Guest Post: Marie Brennan

Today on the blog, I have Marie Brennan, author of A Natural History of Dragons which you may have seen hit the shelves about a month ago.

Sometimes you have to fiddle around with a book before it starts working, before you find the right approach to the story, the right voice for the narrator.

In this instance, it took all of about three sentences.

I knew, when I started writing A Natural History of Dragons that it was going to be a Victorian-style memoir. When I started writing, I immediately discovered the delights of that approach. My protagonist is, especially in this first book, a headstrong and slightly naive young woman -- but the woman who is telling the story is decades older. The result is the best of both worlds: I get to play with her youthful enthusiasm and foolishness, but also the perspective and bulletproof audacity that comes with age. Older women in many times and places have been allowed leeway not given to their younger selves, and Isabella is exploiting that to the fullest.

It’s also fun to play around with the explicit framing the memoir format provides. I’ve written first-person stories before that are less strictly constructed, stories where you’re in the protagonist’s head, but she isn’t telling her story from a defined point in time, or to a defined audience. This approach loses a degree of flexibility, but provides a whole array of games to play. Isabella can distinguish between the young woman she was then and the old woman she is now, reflect on changes in her world, and tell the reader outright what she is and is not willing to talk about. It still has its implausible conventions, of course; when she reports a conversation word-for-word, what exactly is she basing that on? She kept a diary, of course, as many people in that time period did, but a great deal of what she says must be invention or after-the-fact reconstruction. But all fiction has such artificialities, regardless of the approach. What’s different in this instance is that I’ve never tried the memoir format at a length longer than a short story.

For all the challenges (and believe me, there are challenges, especially when it comes to the things Isabella doesn’t want to talk about), I’m having a blast, and have been since those first three sentences. Her voice clicked instantaneously -- a shameless old woman talking about her youthful stupidity -- and my brain is constantly supplying me with entertaining little asides, or wry commentary on the characters and events. In fact, the only downside to that part is figuring out when to rein Isabella in!

I’m two books into the series at this point, and it’s still as fun as when I started. In my line of work, we call that a win.

Marie Brennan is a former academic with a background in archaeology, anthropology, and folklore, which she now puts to rather cockeyed use in writing fantasy. She lives in the San Francisco Bay Area. In addition to many short stories and novellas, she is also the author of A Star Shall Fall and With Fate Conspire (both from Tor Books), as well as Warrior, Witch, Midnight Never Come, In Ashes Lie, and Lies and Prophecy. You can find her online at SwanTower.com.

Guest Post: JA Campbell

Aine, Thank you for having me here today!

People always ask me where I get my ideas from. The vague shrug of… um… no idea, doesn’t usually satisfy them so I’ve tried to come up with a better answer over the years. The real answer is no book is the same. The first Clanless novel, Senior Year Bites came from a dream. A really short dream about a girl who got turned into a vampire her senior year of high school. A friend of mine and I both decided to write a page based on that story prompt to see how different they came out. The answer is quite different. Mine ended up turning into a novel, and then a series.

The idea for the second novel came from lots of brainstorming with my writing buddy about what could happen next. I’d been reading myths and said hey, this will be fun. I don’t want to give too much of a spoiler but there are shape shifters and vampires and sidhe in this one.

I didn’t plan the first novel out when I wrote it. At the time I was simply writing for fun. I did have to plan the second one much more carefully to make sure I tied up some of the lose plot threads, stayed consistent with the first novel, things like that.

I’m getting ready to start the next novel in the series and let me tell you, I agonized over it for a long time. The question of how to get the sidhe to leave my characters alone for good plagued me for ages or even if I could get the sidhe to leave my poor characters alone. Finally, one night, just before I was about to fall asleep, the entire plot dropped into my lap, figuratively of course. I spent the next hour or two jotting all the notes down, and so I know what I’m going to write for the last one. Now, I don’t outline, but having a general overview helps a ton.

So when people ask me for my inspiration, these days I usually say dreams and random ideas that don’t go away. If they stick around long enough to become a full length novel or a complete short story, chances are I’m going to write it, and hey, who knows… it might turn into a really great series. That’s the best.


Blurb:
Meg managed to survive her senior year of high school as a vampire, and now she’s looking forward to a relaxing summer with her friends before trying to tackle college. Unfortunately, some unfinished business from the previous year rears its ugly head and Meg is forced to deal with the Sidhe who are distinctly unhappy that she killed one of their kind last winter. Then Ann’s parents vanish while they are on their annual summer vacation in Maine and it’s up to Meg and the rest of the gang to come to the rescue. Though she is still trying to figure out who, and what she has become, Meg and her friends feel they are up to the challenge. That is until things really start to fall apart.

Bio: Julie writes fantasy novels. When she’s not out riding her horse, she can usually be found sitting in front of her computer with a cat on her lap and her dog at her side. You can find out more at her website.

You can find Summer Break Blues here: Bono Books, Amazon, Amazon UK, Barnes and Noble, Smashwords, Omnilit.

Giveaway: And now for the good part. Decadent Publishing and I are giving away several books on this tour. You could win your choice of any Decadent/Bono Books ebook including Summer Break Blues, or Senior Year Bites. All you have to do for a chance to win is enter using the Rafflecopter form below. Contest is open internationally.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Guest Post: Elisabeth Wheatley

Three Things In Fantasy Books That Drive Me Crazy @_@

The beauty of true fantasy is that there are about three rules. You need magic, you need a magical world, and you need a bad guy. Beyond that, there really isn’t a whole lot to restrict the story. But...(yes, the dreaded “but”)...there are three things that are the equivalent of talons on the chalkboard for me. Okay, okay, so I admit that technically I can’t take off points if a fantasy book isn’t historically accurate, but these are things to do with the weaponry and lifestyle. So they count, right?

1. Knights being hoisted onto horse’s back via a pulley system

I haven’t seen this one in awhile (I think the last time I saw it was in The Once and Future King), but I will mention it anyway. In reality, a knight’s armor was heavy and uncomfortable, but it wasn’t so heavy that they couldn’t mount their horses. If it had been that heavy, ground combat for knights would have been a death-sentence, particularly if they were going up against lighter footsoldiers. There was the problem of knights easily expiring from heatstroke because metal, of course, doesn’t breathe, but that’s a topic for another time.

2. Boiling oil poured from castle during siege

I’m sure we’ve all seen this one, right? The bubbling-hot, pitch-black goo sent raining down on the heads of screaming invaders and then set on fire with a flaming arrow. I think this one was in Christopher Paolini’s Inheritance, though I’d have to check. Boiling oil looks really intense and scary and, let’s face it, morbidly cool. But I’ve found mixed reports on this one. Some say that it was used while others say that oil was too expensive for it to be literally thrown out the window. Boiling water was sometimes used, as well as animal fat, heated sand, resin, pitch, and they would have a similar effect. But oil was something that needed to be saved, especially if you were in a siege and didn’t know when you would be able to resupply.

3. “Fired” an arrow

This one bugs me the most and I can thank my former-Marine, Naval Academy-graduate father for ruining this term for me. A number of writers use this term. Heck, The Lord of the Rings movies used this term a number of times. But I started thinking about it one day and asked my father if it was accurate. He confirmed my suspicions that the term “fire” in reference to volleys, did not come into use until the advent of firearms. Up until that point they said “loose,” which makes more sense, right? I think they did sometimes use fiery arrows, but not enough to make the term “fire” stick.

Any writer could get away with any one or all of these things. They’re all subjective to how “accurate” the writer wants his/her fantasy story to be. But they still drive me bonkers! Now the question is: Are they going to bug you?

Check out the trailer for Elisabeth Wheatley's The Secrets of the Vanmars.

Janir had the misfortune of being born with one of the hated Argetallams for a father. But unlike other Argetallam children, she was mostly granted a normal childhood, away from the rest of her family. It looked as if she would live a relatively normal life as the foster-daughter of a powerful lord. Until one critical day Janir’s powers awakened and she became entangled in a young enchanter’s quest for a long-lost treasure called the Key of Amatahns...


After her adventures with the Key of Amatahns, sixteen-year-old Janir Caersynn Argetallam returns home to find Brevia on the brink of war with a neighboring country, Stlaven. Her foster-father and even Saoven—a brave young elf warrior—think it will be safe at the castle where Janir grew up. However, while trying to unravel a looming mystery, Karile—self-taught wizard and Janir’s self-appointed best friend—becomes certain that there is danger in the mountains surrounding Janir’s childhood home and that it has something to do with Stlaven’s most powerful family, the Vanmars…

Elisabeth Wheatley started writing very short (and rather silly) stories when she was around six. She became a voracious reader and after being practically forced by her cousins to watch Disney's version of "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe," she developed a chronic passion for fantasy.

Elisabeth eventually went to work on what would become "The Key of Amatahns" when she was eleven. "The Key of Amatahns" is the first in the seven-book series, "Argetallam Saga."

When she isn't spellbound by reading fantasy books and writing her own, Elisabeth trains and shows her Jack Russell Terrier, Schnay, makes goat cheese, and studies mythology.

Guest Post: Meradeth Houston

The Starting Line

Thanks so much for hosting me today! Before I forget, I have a contest running for my blog tour—all commenter’s are entered into a drawing for two copies of my book, and one person will win a $25 giftcard to Amazon or Barnes & Noble. There are more details on my home blog, if you want to check it out!

Today I thought I’d talk a little about opening lines and paragraphs in books. For writers, they are so vitally important, and some say they can make or break your book. As someone who regularly browses books by reading the first page, I know this is the case! If I don’t really like the opening, it takes a lot to get me through the rest of the chapters, let alone spending money on it. Now, a first line doesn’t have to be magical and captivating, but it does have to draw me in. Some of my favorites include:

“It is the first day of November and so, today, someone will die.” The Scorpio Races by Maggie Stiefvater (so telling and so bleak. I am in love with Steifvater’s writing!).

“It was a dark and stormy night.” A Wrinkle In Time by Madeline L’Engle (this opening has received a lot of flack, but I still love it. It’s a bit cliché, but because of that I want to read on!).

“Mr and Mrs Dursley, of number four Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.” Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone by JK Rowling (it’s the “thank you very much” in this one that not only makes me want to laugh, but begs the question of why they’re so concerned about being normal).

“The first time, November 6 to be exact, I wake up at two a.m. with a tingling in my head like tiny fireflies dancing behind my eyes.” Unearthly by Cynthia Hand (I love the voice in this and the details of the date and fireflies).

These are just a few of many that I’ve loved. Do you have a favorite opening line? I’d love to hear it!

And just for fun, the opening of my novel, Colors Like Memories:

“I greeted his tombstone the way I always did—with a swift kick.”

A bit about the Colors Like Memories:

Julia has a secret: she killed the guy she loved. It was an accident—sort of.

Julia is a Sary, the soul of a child who died before taking her first breath. Without this 'breath of life' she and others like her must help those on the verge of suicide. It's a job Julia used to enjoy, until the accident that claimed her boyfriend’s life—an accident she knows was her fault. If living with the guilt weren't enough, she's now assigned to help a girl dealing with the loss of her mother, something Julia's not exactly the best role model for. If she can't figure out a way to help her, Julia's going to lose her position in the Sary, something she swore to her boyfriend would never happen.

Release date: May 11th 2012 from MuseItUp Publishing.

A bit about Meradeth Houston:

Meradeth’s never been a big fan of talking about herself, but if you really want to know, here are some random tidbits about her:

>She’s a Northern California girl. This generally means she talks too fast and use "like" a lot.
>When she’s not writing, she’s sequencing dead people’s DNA. For fun!
>She’s been writing since she was 11 years old. It's her hobby, her passion, and she’s so happy to get to share her work!
>If she could have a super-power, it would totally be flying. Which is a little strange, because she’s terrified of heights.

www.MeradethHouston.com
http://meradethhouston.blogspot.com/
https://twitter.com/#!/MeradethHouston
www.goodreads.com/book/show/13030422-colors-like-memories
http://www.facebook.com/ColorsLikeMemories
http://pinterest.com/merbear95695/

If Colors Like Memories sounds like something you'd like to read you can buy it at Amazon or Muse It Up Publishing.

Write What You Almost Know (Deborah Coates)

If you're a writer, and even if you're not, you've probably heard the phrase, 'write what you know.' Some people will tell you it's good advice. Some people will look at it as a rule and argue ways to break it. I find it useful and yet sometimes I also find it difficult advice to follow.

It's impossible, especially if you write fantasy or science fiction to always write what you know. And yet, even then it's good advice for writing believable characters, compelling details, and for walking that narrow line between sense of wonder and suspension of belief.

Wide Openis contemporary fantasy set in the present day US. There are ghosts. There's magic. Hallie, the main character is a soldier who is returning home from Afghanistan. Those are not things I know. Though some of them are things I can know, that I can research.

But there are also things in Wide Open that I know or have known or almost know.

A friend once told me that the better piece of advice is to 'write what you almost know.' And I have to admit that advice resonates with me. When I almost know something, when it's not unknown, but not yet, or no longer, intimately familiar, I can see it and recognize it, and still notice the detail. I can appreciate it in ways that I often can't appreciate the everydayness of my house or my street or the state of Iowa. In my own house, I ignore the squeak of the back door, the splash of yesterday's mud across the glass. I don't remember that the driver's side door of my car sticks when the temperature drops or the light at the end of my street goes out every time it rains.

It was years after I left western New York State where I grew up before it appeared in a story. If I set a story in Iowa, it's usually in a part I've been to, but not the central part where I live. I've visited western South Dakota. I almost know it. And so I can write about it.

From Wide Open, here's a description that's almost South Dakota, set in a county that doesn't exist:

The clouds had turned steel gray and were starting to spit rain by the time they pulled onto Seven Mile Creek Road. Hallie was cold, but she couldn’t tell if it was because the weather had turned even colder or because there were two ghosts in the car with her. Probably both. They’d come up the county road, turned north, and headed back toward Highway 54.

Hallie thought they’d stop at that intersection, the one between Seven Mile and 54, thought that must have been where it happened because there was a stand of trees right there, between the road and the creek—cottonwoods mostly and a couple of old bur oaks. They did stop, waited for an old black Suburban to cross the intersection, then turned left onto Seven Mile Creek Road past an old garage and a partially collapsed house. The old cracked asphalt crumpled to nearly nothing as they came up on the town of Jasper, or what was left of it after the tornado in ’94—a couple of concrete block buildings without roofs or windows, stalky weeds ranged along what was once a road or driveway, a rusted-out car next to a stack of old tires.

Beyond Jasper, Seven Mile dwindled to practically nothing—old asphalt, then gravel, then, abruptly, hard-packed dirt.

Davies turned left again, bounced a little as the car dropped onto a dirt track with dusty brown blades of grass spiking up along the crown.

“This—,” Hallie began, then stopped when the deputy looked at her. But this couldn’t be right. What would Dell have been doing up here? At night? By herself? “I thought she hit a tree on Seven Mile,” Hallie said, eyeing the deputy suspiciously.

“I didn’t tell you that,” he said.

“You didn’t tell me anything.”

Guest Post: The Diary of Willow Krimble (Giuseppe Bianco)

The Diary Of Willow Krimble
First Entry

Dear Diary,

Wow, this feels so weird. I’ve never written that before, which is really odd, since Grandma Trisha gave me this Diary two years ago. She knows how much I love to write. I’ve written a few short stories and a ton of poems, but I’ve never written in a diary before. With the strange events that have been happening to me lately, I just feel like I need to express certain things that I can’t share with anyone else, including my best friend, Razzel.

​So, where to begin, Diary? Since I’m new at this, I’d feel a lot better if I gave you little bit of background info on myself – even though you are just a leather-bound notebook – no offense.
​
My name is Willow Krimble. I’m 13-years-old, I have freckles, bushy, almond-colored hair, and I have to wear a retainer for the next six months, even though I finally got my braces off. Sounds like your typical tween, right? Oh, I promise you, it gets more interesting, Diary. I wouldn’t exactly call my life “typical”. You see, for one thing, I was born without the bottom half of my left leg, so I’ve had to wear a prosthetic limb pretty much my whole life. It’s all I’ve ever known, so I don’t mind it. I often notice my classmates curiously staring at it, which isn’t my favorite pastime, but you get used to it. You never do get used to the insults, though. Shayla Stergus and Snella Burinbine, at school, think it’s pretty funny to call me things like “Prosthetic Princess”, or “One-Leg Wonder”. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bug me. I don’t have to tell you how powerful words can be. They can raise you to amazing heights, where you’re heart begs to remain, or they can drag you to a dark place, where it seems as if the tiniest flicker of hope will never shine again. Sorry to get so deep, there, Diary. It’s the poet in me, I guess.
​
But thank goodness for my best friend, Razzel Fiora; she’s had my back since we were three years old. She really looks out for me. It’s not the worst thing in the world to have a best friend who’s skilled in the art of Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, complimented by a sarcastic attitude. Comes in handy when someone refers to you as “Robo-Crutch”. Don’t laugh, Diary – not funny.
​
But enough about my middle school angst. Now that I’ve filled you in on the basics, I think I’m finally ready to share something else with you; something … peculiar … something … curious. You see, the retainer, untamable hair, and steel leg are just the back-story to Willow Krimble. Did I just refer to myself in the third-person? Sorry about that. Anyway, the real thing you should know about me is, lately … well … strange, unexplainable things have been happening around me, and I’m not sure I should tell anyone. But If I don’t share it with someone, I’ll just burst. That’s where you come in, Diary.

​I always tell Raz everything, but suddenly being struck with the power to heal others isn’t information I need to be sharing with anyone just yet. You read that right; I can heal people. Well, at least I think I can. I’ve had three separate instances this week where two people, and one pet-shop guinea pig, were suddenly healed after I came in contact with them. Crazy, right? I mean, why me? What makes me so special? And why now?
​
Truth is, there was a time when I … well … okay, no one knows this, Diary; not my mom, my older brother, Wyatt, not even Raz, but when my dad was sick, just before he passed away, I wanted so badly to be able to take his illness away – to just pull it out of him and dispel it. I remember on my seventh birthday, when I blew out those candles, I wished with my entire soul, for him to get better. I remember gazing at his frail, withered appearance, after my vicious puffing extinguished the final thin, pink-swirled candle. I remember thinking I’d performed some wondrous magic. When you’re seven, you believe in that stuff – you believe in everything. Call it what you want: Magic, miracles, super powers, whatever… When you’re a kid, you can feel these moments when you think something amazing has just happened. Something that makes your heart feel like it just expanded wider than it ever has; that moment where nothing ugly in this world matters because all you can see is the beauty, surrounding it. That’s what you feel when you’re a young kid and something incredibly unexpected happens, like coming home to a freshly baked batch of chocolate chunk cookies for no particular reason … or getting a snow day off from school … or having your birthday wish come true…. But you should know, Diary, that my wish never did come true that year. That feeling I had when I blew out those candles, was totally premature. Or should I say, “immature”; just a little kid with a big wish. A wish that deep down, beyond that heart-swelling feeling, I knew would never really come true. Sorry to be such a downer, Diary, but if what I can do is truly real, then why did it happen now? Why not six years ago? Life is really strange that way, isn’t it? Things never turn out the way we map them out in our own minds, but I suppose there is a reason for everything that’s happening to me. Grandma Trisha always tells me: “Let life travel where it wants to go; just savor the journey.” I think I get my passion for writing from her, but don’t tell mom I said that.
​
You should know, Diary, that I just paused for a ginormous yawn, so, clearly, I’m not going to figure this all out tonight. I’d better get to bed; I promised Raz I'd meet her at the library tomorrow to work on our homeostasis paper for Science Class. Well, Diary, thanks for listening. I feel a lot better now that I was able to share all of this with you. Maybe I’m crazy; maybe all of these things have just been a strange coincidence. Maybe I am just a typical kid, with an overactive imagination. I’ll keep you posted. Oh, and, Diary … thanks for keeping my secret.

The winner of a signed copy of A Girl Named Willow Krimble is...

Shannon J!

Book Review: Static (+ extras)

Be careful what you listen to...

During the summer before her senior year, 17 year old band groupie, Salem Vale, has been following her favorite punk rockers, Malice, from gig to gig hoping that one night she might get backstage and meet the sinisterly sexy guys. She’s been saving her virginity for the lead singer Thane. One fateful evening she gets her wish. It’s a dream come true.

Except the dream turns to a nightmare when she wakes up in a dumpster, tossed away like yesterday’s trash, with no memory of what happened the night before. She feels strange, different, as if something is trying to get out. Soon she realizes she’s changing…turning into something not quite human.

Now a hunger deep inside claws at her to feed, to siphon energy from those around her. Before she can do just that, Trevor, the band’s roadie shows up and stops her from killing. With his help she learns to control the hunger inside, because he’s just like her. And in return he wants her help to do one little thing…

Help him kill the members of Malice.

I recently read Staticby Tawny Stokes. Starting with the cover... seriously... I love it. I think it's definitely one that'll catch eyes on a shelf. I would, however, recommend this for the older crowd. It's definitely not for tweens.

I really enjoyed Salem, the book's main character. She was funny and sassy and wasn't perfect. She's dealing with a lot and messing up along the way. Too often characters are "perfect" and that bugs me. Salem was very refreshing. Also, Salem Vale... I kinda want her name.

The supporting characters weren't always likable, but they really fit into the story well. Their interactions and dialogue are realistic. Static fits in the YA Urban Fantasy category, but stands out as being unique. The story is unlike any I've come across.

I admit that I don't read a lot of self published books, but this one was one of my favorites. My biggest issue were some of the continuity errors. One page says 7:30; on the next it's at 6:00. And there were a few times where I stopped with a "Whut? That word doesn't sound right." Little things that could have benefitted an editor or more betas. But all-in-all it was a fast, fun read. I'll definitely be reading more from Tawny Stokes.

Below the wonderful cover you'll find an interview with our heroine and an excerpt of chapter one. And be sure to visit Tawny Stokes' site for more info on her and get books.

Character Interview

A big thank you for having me today.  I have the pleasure of bringing Salem Vale from my book Static with me today…well it took some persuading to get her here….


You said you were taking me to that Doc Marten store.

I know I did, and I will, after this interview….

Fine.

So, here we go….fast five with Salem Vale.

Five favourite bands:

Sick Puppies, Korn, Sum 41, Papa Roach, and Red, I actually like a lot of bands but those are the first ones to come to my head.  Oh and I used to love Malice until they messed me up.

Five favourite foods:

Um, pizza, tacos, hot pockets, hamburgers, and like gummy bears.

Five favourite movies:

Jennifer’s Body, Shaun of the Dead, 28 Days Later, Paranormal Activity, and Superbad.  I love me some Michael Cera.

Five favourite books:

Do graphic novels count as books?  I did read that Hunger Games book. It was pretty cool.  Oh, and basically anything Neil Gaiman writes.  He’s a rock star.

Five favourite actors:

Hmm, there’s that dude from True Blood…the Viking.  He’s hot.  Um, Johnny Depp for sure.  He’s uber cool. Emile Hirsch for sure, oh and Joseph Gordon-Levitt. And Michael Cera of course.

Can we go to that store now?  I really want a new pair of books. These ones have holes in them.

Sure, Salem, thanks for coming out today and sharing  a little about yourself.

Yeah, no sweat.  I’ll catch you all later.

STATIC EXCERPT
Chapter 1

You belong to me…

I own you…

The hypnotic timbre of Thane’s voice surged through my body making me tingle all over. Like a rush of heroin injected into my vein, soothing me, exciting me, I was completely and utterly hooked.
The bustling crowd in front of the stage swayed back and forth and I swayed with them. I was caught in the movement—the flow of people stirred like a whirlpool to the intoxicating rhythm and razor sharp lyrics of Malice.

Your life’s in my hands…

I’m sucking your soul…

My favorite band for the past year, I’d traveled, with my best friend Chloe, across Idaho and Washington in the past two months to see them play. My mom had been really cool about it, even lending me her car—an old POS, but a vehicle nonetheless—to drive to the shows just as long as I didn’t drive home trashed. I’d attempted it one night, but got scared when I couldn’t keep it on the road, and pulled over at a rest stop. Chloe and I slept in the car.

Thankfully no crazed psycho killer raped and mutilated us. The worst that came at us was a stray dog looking for some scraps. Chloe gave it the rest of her cheeseburger that we’d picked up a MacDonald’s drive thru after the show.

For eight gigs, I’d been entranced by the four member—three guys and one girl—band. My body responded to every aspect of their music. My head pounded to the constant heady thump of the drums, my heart thrashed to every guitar riff, and my thighs clenched with every word lead singer Thane uttered into the microphone.

Some songs he looked like he was making love to the equipment, running his fingers up and down the silver pole, uttering a lover’s words in its ear. I ached and throbbed wishing I could be that thin pole of shiny metal. If only he’d hold me like that, gripping me tightly, running his sweet lips over my face and neck. My eyes nearly rolled back in my head in ecstasy imagining what that would feel like.

That was when Chloe punched me in the arm starling me from my fantasy. “Salem?”

“What?” I grunted, peering at her between strands of black and blond hair hanging in my eyes.

“Do you want some of this?”

I glanced down to see her passing me some vodka. I took the offered bottle and tipped it to my lips swallowing down a good portion. It burned going down, but it was a good burn, telling me I was still sober. Which I needed to be if I was going to complete my mission of getting a back stage pass to meet the band. This was their final gig for the summer in my home city—Boise, Idaho—and I wouldn’t get another chance to offer up my virginity to Thane. I’d been holding onto it just for him.

My mom had always told me that virginity was a gift and the guy better be someone special enough to give it to. I figured Thane was extremely special. I mean, my mom had given hers up to some Rock God in the 80’s, I suspected it was either Keith Richards or Iggy Pop because she had signed pictures of them both thanking her for a stellar night and when she mentioned either one of them she got this little smile on her lips and a devilish sparkle in her eye.

Before I could hand the bottle back to Chloe, the couple next to us bumped into my arm and I nearly dropped it. I turned around to glare at them, but they were so busy making out that they didn’t notice. That was one thing I did notice about Malice gigs, there always seemed to be a lot of couples kissing and groping each other either on the stage floor or in darkened corners peppered around the venue.

In Spokane, when I went to the bathroom at the club the band was playing in, I happened upon two girls making out in one of the stalls. Although I was an equal opportunity snogger, that had thrown me for a loop. I certainly knew some people were gay, I didn’t have an issue with that—I had an uncle who was gay and a friend at school—it was just I’d never seen it so graphically displayed before.

Once I’d finally given the bottle back to Chloe, she wiped the top with the hem of her t-shirt—I guess she didn’t appreciate my spit—and took a pull, then tucked it back into the pocket of her army green jacket that swam on her lanky but scrawny frame.

“Did you figure out how we’re going to score backstage passes yet?”

Shaking my head, I set my attention on the security guards off to one side of the stage, handing passes on strings to a few big-breasted Goth wannabes. At every show I watched similar guards giving passes to similar types of girls. The two times I’d asked for one, they’d looked me up and down, likely taking in my black 10 holed Doc Martens, jeans-a few worn spots at the knees and on the ass—shaggy mop of black and white hair, and Betty Boop t-shirt that didn’t stretch out to a DD cup, or to a C for that matter and disregarded me in the time it took to do the bra calculations.

This time I came armed. I’d shoved my mom’s silicone gel boobs into my bra under my vintage Sex Pistols t-shirt. That made me go from an A cup to a perky B. I was also wearing my extra special pair of worn jeans that made my ass look good. I’d considered also wearing my mom’s butt enhancer panties—she had real body image issues—but decided against it. I didn’t want to look like a complete whore.

“I’m going to ask real nice.” A trickle of sweat ran down the back of my neck. I wiped at it. I really didn’t want to have sweat stains on the back of my t-shirt. The heat in the club was nearly oppressive. Too many bodies packed into too small a room.

Chloe eyed me dubiously, black eyeliner starting to run down her gaunt cheeks. “You did that the last time. And the security dude was a real dickhead about it.”

“That was before I had these.” I stuck out my chest and cupped my boobs.

Chloe shook her head, her short cap of fire-engine red hair swinging. “Do you really think that’s going to work?”

“Duh? That’s all guys understand. Boobs. It’s as if they are actually communicating with them, the way they stare.”

“Well, then, good luck with hypnotizing these security assholes with your perfect B boobs.” Chloe laughed. “You should go soon cuz it sounds like they’re getting ready to wrap up the set.”
She was right. Devon, the girl band member, stepped forward to roll into her bass solo, her pink Tokyopop pigtails bouncing to the rhythm. It was the beginning of their song, Sin City, which they always played second to last. Straightening my shoulders, I made my way, by pushing and shoving, through the pulsating crowd toward the right side of the stage.

When I reached my destination, there were three bimbos standing in front of me giggling and jiggling at the two beefy security guys. It just about made me want to barf. I actually had to put my hand to my mouth just in case I did.

“Excuse me,” I yelled over top one of the girl’s bleached blond head. “Can I get a couple of passes?”

The blond whipped around to glare at me. She had one of those hoops in her nose that made her look like a bull. I wondered if I waved a red flap if she’d charge at me. She looked scary enough to do just that.

One of the security guys looked me up and down. “Sorry. I just ran out.”

I noticed the passes dangling from the all three of the girls’ hands. “They got some.”

“Those were my last three.” He shrugged and went back to ogling one of the three girls who was wearing a black fishnet top and nothing underneath. I think her nipples were even pierced. I managed to spy a glint of sliver when she turned to glare at me too.

Blondie continued to glare at me. “Why don’t you run along little girl? Go play with your Goth Barbie.”

I hated when people assumed I was so young. I was seventeen but short—five feet one—and I got mistaken for fourteen all. The. Time. It didn’t help that I was small too—a whopping size one—with petite delicate features courtesy of my mom who looked like a punk pixie most days with her short spiky black hair and colorful tattoos covering a lot of her tight compact body.

So it didn’t surprise me when my hands began to shake from the anger welling up. I despised confrontation but right now I hated not having a back stage pass even more. I glanced up at the stage and watched as Thane moved around with his long sinuous limbs and silky black hair falling in his perfect pale face making my stomach clench. I had to get backstage no matter what.

“I wasn’t talking to you.” I finally said.

She arched her pierced eyebrow and set one hand on her ample hip. “Excuse me? Who do you think you’re talking to?”

I took in her appearance, noticing she wore cheap purple hair extensions, I could plainly see one of the clips in her hairline at her temple, and her face was adorned with several piercings. She looked like she’d been put together with pins.

I smirked. “Skankenstein?”

The two security guys laughed at that, as did one of her friends but not the one with her nipples poking out.

“You bitch!” she shrieked.

I didn’t expect her to hit me. But she did. Hard. An open hand slap right across my left cheek. It stung like hell. I’d never been slapped before and didn’t realize how badly it could hurt. I think my lip was cut as well because I could taste blood in my mouth. I glanced down at her hand and noticed the solid silver rings on her hand. The bitch had turned them in.

“Hey,” one of the security guards shouted, “If you’re going to fight take it outside.”

A little crowd started to form around us. The scent of blood always got teenagers’ attentions. We were like animals in that regard. I don’t know how many times I’d been in one of those crowds watching as two or three or more people beat the crap out of each other for pathetic and irrelevant reasons.

I could read the lips of the guys standing closest to us as they passed the word on about the bitch fight about to happen. What was it with guys wanting to watch two girls fight? I really hated to be in the middle of one, all eyes watching, ready for the scratching and hair pulling that usually entailed in a girl fight and hoping for blood.

Usually a loner, I didn’t like a lot of attention. Preferring to stick to my three or four good friends, I didn’t much like being in a crowd, except at a gig. But then when I came to a Malice concert, it was always just between me and the band. The crowds never bothered me. I just came to hear the music and watch the sexy guys on the stage—I came for the rock fantasy.

So standing in front of a fuming blond bimbo out for blood in a fighting circle surrounded by twenty or thirty people wasn’t making me feel all that good. Again, I felt like I was going to barf. I didn’t want to fight. I wasn’t big on violence; I didn’t even play fighting games on my DS. But I was not the type of person to back down either. My mom had always taught me to stick up for myself. Although I’m sure she didn’t mean that I should punch the shit out of this girl. Even if I wanted to.

Rubbing my cheek, I tried to appeal to the girl’s reasonable side, assuming she possessed one. “I think for that you should give me your backstage pass. We’ll call it even.”

She laughed. “Not likely.” Then she shoved me hard. I stumbled backwards into the murmuring crowd. Two sets of hands pushed me back into the circle. Hey, thanks guys!

It was obvious I wasn’t going to walk away from this easily. Or at all by the murdering look in the blond’s eyes. But no one ever said being a groupie was easy.

Not sure what to do, I glanced up and locked gazes with Thane. He was standing near the side of the stage looking down at me; the microphone stand gripped tightly, his dark eyes piercing me. Heat blossomed inside of me. I’d never been looked at like that by a guy before. As if he wanted to devour me from the toes up. I put a hand to my stomach where butterflies started to flip flop around like beached fish.

A rush of something I couldn’t name shot through my body. Adrenaline or lust, I didn’t know which, but whatever it was made me feel really good. Powerful even. Sexy. Like one of the female members of the X-Men. Storm maybe, or Rogue, maybe even Dark Phoenix before she went insane and killed everyone.

Whatever it was, I liked it.

Putting my attention back on my blond nemesis, I decided I needed to act if I was going to get out of the situation. Faster than I knew I could move, I reached up and snatched the bull ring from her nose.

She screamed and grabbed her nose with both hands. Blood seeped between her fingers to drip on the floor.

The sound of her skin and cartilage ripping made me shiver. Even above the music I had heard it ring in my ears. I felt bad for liking the sound, but she had it coming.

Her two friends gathered her in the safety of their arms but they both stared at me with a mixture of venom and apprehension. I suspected no one saw that coming. I certainly hadn’t.

In a daze, I looked around me, and noticed that she’d dropped her backstage pass onto the floor. Leaning down I snatched it up and smiled. I finally got my backstage pass.

As I hung it around my neck, my gaze met Thane’s once again. He was singing the last lines of their last song but he was watching me. And he smiled.

I smiled in return.

Guest Post: The Teen Inside Me (Tawny Stokes)

I’m pretty sure I never really grew up.  Not really.  Sure I got married and had a kid, and got divorced and pay taxes and pay bills.  I do all the adult things I’m supposed to. But deep down inside I still feel 16.  Which is probably why writing YA feels so normal to me.

I’ve written a lot of books for adults but it wasn’t until I started writing YA that it felt truly right.  Static was the first YA I’d written.  And it was an easy book to write.  And a joy to write.  Some of it was like jotting down old memories. Vivid memories that I could still see, and hear and feel.

Now, that doesn’t necessarily mean that Salem’s experiences were mine. Although I had attended many gigs when I was a teen, and I did travel around following different bands, I have in no way had any contact with an incubus and have ever been turning into anything unnatural.  *looks in mirrors checks eyes*.  Nope, still good.

It was the same when I wrote Demon Whisperer.  It was easy.  Well, not easy easy, all writing is hard, but I didn’t have to think about what I was writing, it just flowed.  The difficult part was not interjecting my thought processes into the way Caden would think and behave.  He’s 17 and I’m well, not 17, and I have many life experiences, I’ve learned the hard way some tough lessons.  So, sometimes it proved difficult to allow Caden to make those mistakes when I knew better.  I didn’t want Caden to do dumb stuff, make poor decisions, but I knew to keep his voice authentic I had to let go.  And remember all those painful moments from my teen years.  In some ways, it was fun to relive them.  Like first love.  That’s always my favourite thing to re-experience, that rush.  And Caden’s got it bad for Aspen.  J

So now I’ve come up with the 5 ways you can tell you have a teenager living inside of you, for all those adults out there…

1. You call everyone dude
2. Your thumbs have callouses from texting
3. Your iPod, iPhone and other devices are part of your iDentity
4. You are either Team Gale or Team Peeta, or the fact that you think in teams when it comes to dudes
5. Other words in your vocabulary are: epic, uber, junk and awesomesauce
6. You watched the Hunger Games movie trailer ten times in a row.  (Okay, that might’ve just been me)

Guest Post: Reinvention (Tawny Stokes)

Ch-ch-changes…as David Bowie’s iconic song streams through my head, I think about all the changes I’ve made in the past year.  There has been quite a few.  Some small, and some major.  Some personal like my continual battle with Pepsi addiction, but most are related to my writing career.

As probably a lot of you know, there has been tons of turmoil in the publishing industry, and unfortunately since I haven’t found huge success in the paranormal field, that turmoil has affected me, as well as tons of other authors I know and love.  As with all strife, its how you handle it that makes the difference. And I’ve never been one to let anything get me down.  I’ve been dropped by publishers even before this industry shakeup.  Kensington dropped me after my disastrous showing in sales of my adult post-apocolyptic book Inferno, the sequel to Hell Kat.  And I kept going.  

After my third book came out from Harlequin Nocturne, I did some soul searching, and realized I really didn’t belong in the current paranormal romance field, IMHO.  I realized I had a strong voice for YA, so I wrote one, and sent it to my agent and she shopped it, and shopped it and shopped it. And unfortunately, it didn’t hit.  So I wrote another YA, and sent it to my agent and she shopped it and shopped it and shopped it.  We came closer with this one, so close it makes me cry just thinking about it.  But through this all I realized that I LOVE writing YA.

Also through this shake up, I went back to my first love, writing screenplays.  I actually started writing them before I ever wrote a book.  So I’ve written a couple of scripts, and in the past year, I’ve secured a Hollywood manager, and a producer who loves my work and my voice and we have developed a TV show pilot together, (which is actually based one of my YA books) and it is currently at the networks being considered.  Wheeeeeeee!!  I have a few other scripts being read as well by various producers.  I’m very excited about the future for me in movies and TV.

Oh right, back to books…. J

So through this all, and the rise of ebooks, and the kindle, I decided to selfpublish as well.  I’ve already released an adult urban fantasy called GLIMMER, under my Vivi Anna name, and I’ve just released my first YA, called STATIC, under my real name Tawny Stokes.  And through this all I realized that all I really want to write is YA.  I’m very excited about the choices that authors have now.  I’m excited about the future of publishing for authors.  We have many paths to take to get to publication.  It’s a brave new publishing world and I’m very excited to be part of it.

Oh, and for all those cupcake lovers out there, Mocha are you listening? I just recently had the most amazing cupcake in all the world…at Pink Sugar Cupcakery in Victoria, British Columbia.  I had their trademark cake the Pink Sugar.  It was the most delicious thing I have ever tasted in my whole life. And they do orders online…I’m just saying.  J

Guest Post: A Few of my Favorite YA Things (Tawny Stokes)

I love to read YA books.  They are usually all I read now.  I find that I am always surprised when I pick up a new book.  I don’t already have expectations like I would when I pick up a paranormal romance or urban fantasy these days.  Yes, I have been disappointed by some YA books, but for the most part I enjoy every one I read.  And it’s not just books, I love teen movies ever since I was a teen. Some of my favourite movies are teen oriented.  I think basically I am still 16 living in a 40 year old form.  

Here are some of my favourites:

BOOKS:

Hunger Games (trilogy) – Suzanne Collins

Gone (series ) – Michael Grant

Devouring (trilogy) – Simon Holt

Matched – Ally Condie

Divergent – Veronica Roth

Unwind – Neal Shusterman

Before I Fall – Lauren Oliver

Delirium – Lauren Oliver

Forest of Hands and Teeth – (series) – Carrie Ryan

 

MOVIES:

Easy A

Superbad

Jennifer’s Body

The Faculty

The Craft

Juno

Breakfast Club

Valley Girl

 

Tell me about your favourite YA books and movies.

Guest Post: Sybil Nelson

Inspiration is Everywhere

Once people read my wacky story Priscilla the Great, one of the most popular questions I get is “Where do you come up with your ideas?” Well, ideas are the easy part. I truly believe that inspiration is everywhere. I taught high school for 9 years and my students provided me plenty of ideas. I often didn’t have time to write down everything I wanted to. Sometimes my students would make a special trip to my office to share with me something funny that happened to them. I was never without my notebook and anytime I saw or heard something that I could use in a book, I’d take a second to jot it down.

I find that people are kind of confused about me when they find out that I was a math teacher and that I’m currently getting my PhD in Biostatistics. They wonder how in the world math relates to children’s literature. And once again I say, inspiration is everywhere. In November of 2009, I was at a math conference called Cha-Cha days. (Don’t be deceived. There was no dancing involved.) From nine in the morning to ten at night, mathematicians from the South Eastern region of the United States presented their current research. (Myself included. My presentation was on the Dynamics of Nearly Circular Vortex Filaments.) Anyway, through the course of the day, I not only listened to these presentations from a mathematical standpoint but from a literary one. More than once I found myself taking notes on how I could take someone’s idea and turn it into a plot for my Priscilla the Great series.

For example, during a talk by Dr. Demetrios Christodoulides of the University of Central Florida about Optical Airy beams and bullets, I worked out what was at the time going to be book 3 of the Priscilla the Great series. (At this point, I’ve had so many ideas for the series that now it is going to be book five) What are Airy beams? I’m glad you asked. Basically, they are self-regenerative beams of light that bend on their own depending on factors of diffraction and dispersion. At this point in the research, they can shoot a beam of light or a bullet of light and have it bend around an object. Of course, they can only do this at the nano level right now, but imagine the implications if they can replicate this on a larger scale. Imagine a bullet that could bend it’s trajectory at will after it’s been shot. I took the research a step further and decided to make it a bullet that could bend time and thus came Priscilla the Great Book 5: The Time Travelling Bullet.

So what’s the moral of this story? That I am a complete nerd? Well, yes, but also that inspiration is everywhere. What do you love? What motivates you? I bet your passion would make a great plot. Inspiration is everywhere.

Be sure to check out the Priscilla the Great website and add this book to your Goodreads. You can read Sybil Nelson’s blog here. Be sure to check back for the Priscilla the Great book review, here at Aine's Realm this week.

Guest Post by Sammie Spencer and Giveaway

Playing Favorites


Andrea has kindly allowed me to take over her blog for a bit to talk about my YA paranormal romance Amaretto Flame. This book is the first in the Eagleton Coven series, with Shadow Wishes coming in late summer or fall. (Just picked that name today - SO exciting!)  Today, I thought I'd talk a little about my characters, and why I *do* pick favorites. I hope you enjoy!


My Favorite: I know, I know...my hero or my heroine should probably be my favorite character, but the truth is, I think Everett is my favorite character. Everett is the 17 year old coven brother to Olivia (main character), and has had a very difficult life. Because of this, he's had to grow up quickly and he still carries around the wounds of what happened to him as a child. Even with all of that, he loves innocently and wholeheartedly. He is not only very cute, but he has qualities that I strive to have myself. Soft-spoken, respectful, a fierce fighter - Everett is very close to my heart.

Second Favorite: Olivia would be my second favorite. Like Everett, her childhood was very rough, and she does love fiercely, but she also restrains herself a little more in that department. In the beginning of Amaretto Flame, you'll see (if you haven't read it) how Olivia is prejudiced against humans because of the life she has led. It's not her fault - it's just the natural conclusions she came to after witnessing the things she's witnessed. That said, she's also sworn to protect them, and would do anything to keep one of them from being hurt by the Venator (witch hunters that kill Wise Ones and humans alike.) The thing I love most about Olivia is that she makes her own decisions, and you'll see that in the book as she becomes close to humans, she realizes that they're much different than she originally thought.


Third Favorite: Jackson. *sigh* Yes, even as his creator, I love him. In the beginning of the book, you'll see that Jackson is something of a ladies man. In all fairness, he lets all of his...uh, ladies, know that he's not interested in anything serious. He is not dishonest with them. Aside from this little flaw, he's soft-hearted and a great friend. Of course, when love wants you, you can't stop it...I'll let you discover what I mean by that in the book if you haven't read it. Jackson is fiercely loyal and would do just about anything to protect those he loves. For all these reasons and more, I am very fond of him.


Of course, I love all the characters in my book, but I think some of them (Sylvia for instance) are still discovering who they really are. If you've read the book, who are your favorite characters? Thanks for letting me take up a bit of your time to tell you about my characters and why they mean so much to me!!




Check out the other stops on Sammie's book tour.


May 1 - Tattooed Books - Character Guest Post *BLOG TOUR KICKOFF*  
May 2 - YABound  - Character Interview with Everett
May 3 - Ramblings of a Teenage Bookworm - Character Guest Post + Character Interview
May 4 - I Just Wanna Sit Here and Read - Review and Character Interview
May 5 - Jagged Edge - Guest Post and Giveaway
May 6 - Diary of a Bookworm - Review and Giveaway
May 7 - Dark Readers - Review and Giveaway
May 8 - Kayleigh M. Books - Review + (To Be Determined)
May 9 - Wicked Awesome Books - Review
May 10 - Aine's Realm - Review
May 11 - Izzie Vandero - Character Interview
May 12 - A Life Bound by Books - Character Guest Post
May 13 - Pagan Culture - Fiction Journeying and Giveaway
May 14 - I Heart YA Books - Blog Tour Wrap Up!


Thanks, Sammie! Be sure to check out her blog, follow her on Twitter, and add Amaretto Flame to your Goodreads. And now... it's Giveaway Time!


Leave a comment with your email to be entered to win a Smashwords ebook of Amaretto Flame and some swag (pictured below)! Winner will be posted in a few days with my review. ;)

    

Most blogs will be having giveaways, whether it's a free Kindle Edition of Amaretto Flame, author swag, or extra goodies. *Those who visit EVERY stop and comment  on the posts will be entered to win a BIG end prize in addition to the prizes for each stop

Guest Post: Lauren Kreitzer

Hello Literary-Folk!

My name is Laura Kreitzer, and I’m the author of the Timeless Series and the Summer Chronicles. This week I would like to alert everyone on a colossal crisis that’s gone unnoticed in the world: human trafficking. That’s why I’ve asked hundreds of blogs to be involved with spreading the word on this issue that’s become close to my heart.

As an author, and someone whose life is put in the spotlight, I keep most people at a distance. Only a handful of my friends know the whole me and the events from my past. But this week I’d like to share with you a part of myself that the outside world doesn’t see (and a part of me I don’t like to share). I was emotionally abused for five years by someone I thought loved me, my mind beaten into submission. Though the turmoil I went through doesn’t penetrate as deep as someone forced into slavery on the worldwide market for human trafficking, I can sadly relate in some ways: imprisoned, my life dictated down to what I wore, ate, where I went, whom I spoke to, where I worked, when I slept, bending to his every whim. He did not sway, even when I cried through some of the more traumatic things he had me do. I was a slave in my own home. In my desperation for freedom, I held out a gun and asked him to just end my suffering. I was desperate.

I can’t even imagine how many women (and men) in the world are in a similar situation. What’s even worse, I had it mild compared to the children that are sold for labor or sex. Surprisingly, the good ol’ U.S.A. is reported to be the host to two million slaves. Did you know this? Because I certainly did not; not until I was preparing to write my newest novel: Phantom Universe. The main character, Summer Waverly, was stolen as a child and sold as a slave to the captain of a modern-day pirate ship. From a loved child who only knew “time-out” as punishment, to being whipped into silence was something I knew nothing about. So I researched deeply into human trafficking and the psychological effects of torture of various types that one would endure in these circumstances. I felt shaken at my findings and knew I had to tell Summer’s story. (Read a sneak peek here.)

A storm began to brew in my mind; transforming, morphing, twisting, and expanding into this massive, black cloud. I had to bring this tragic atrocity to the forefront. My own emotional experiences, mixed with the research I did on human trafficking, made me feel an intense connection with Summer, and to all women who’ve been through this kind of brutality. The cloud ruptured and rained all over my computer one day. It took one month to write Phantom Universe, the first in the Summer Chronicles. I was so consumed by the story that I wrote nearly nonstop, only breaking for necessary tasks like eating, showering, and occasionally—very occasionally—sleeping.

Though the book I’ve written would be classified as Science Fiction, or as I’d like to call it, Dystopian, the emotions and psychological aspects are not Science Fiction—they're real. Reviewers have said many amazing things about Summer, this character who is so real in my mind and who I cried along with as the words poured from my soul onto my screen.

“I admired Summer's strength and ability to adapt,” says CiCi’s Theories. “I felt tied to her emotions,” Jennifer Murgia, author or Angel Star admits. And Tahlia Newland, author of Lethal Inheritance, remarks, “Summer is strong and smart in mind [. . .]”

Through her overwhelmingly horrendous past, Summer goes on more than just a physical journey in Phantom Universe, she goes on a psychological one as well; growing beyond her mute state to persevere and survive in a new world beyond the whip she’s so frightened of.

Now that the release date is here, I’m excited and terrified to share this story with everyone. I’m emotionally tied in every way to the words I’ve written, because they’re more than words. More than just a story on a page. Beyond the fictional aspects, there’s a real issue that needs to be addressed: human trafficking must be stopped. We shouldn’t sit idly by while this continues to plague us. Our world’s children—our nation’s children—are being affected. It’s time we take action!

Earlier this month Phantom Universe hit Barnes and Noble’s top 100 Best Selling list. I’ve decided to donate 10% of my sales from Phantom Universe, until the end of February, to the DNA Foundation.

“DNA hopes to help abolish modern day slavery, deter perpetrators, and free the many innocent and exploited victims. We are committed to forcing sex slavery out of the shadows and into the spotlight.

Freedom is a basic human right and slavery is one of the greatest threats to that freedom. No one has the right to enslave another person.”

—From DNA Foundation’s Website

I ask that you spread the word to everyone you know. Look around on the DNA Foundation website and find a way to get involved in ending human trafficking. Take action today. Everyone has a voice—you have a voice. Will you have the courage to use it?