Saturday, April 28, 2012

Entangled Publishing Autism Anthologly

Released April 28, 2012

The Entangled Publishing Autism Anthology, a charity project with all of the proceeds going to Autism Speaks. Contains three romance novellas that sizzle! Great spring reads for a lounge on the patio. Read more about each novella below. 

When ultra-shy pushover Faye Albert decides to live a little, she
inadvertently binds her soul to Satan by following him on Twitter. And
overnight, her dreams of being confident, beautiful, and adored by men
are coming true. No longer is she overlooked, pushed out her place in
line, or just plain pushed over.

But it comes at a price: if she doesn’t figure out how break the
contract, she’ll lose her soul to the Dark Prince forever.

With time running out, and no idea how to unfollow Satan, she enlists
the help of Christopher White, a gorgeous photographer from work. All
the while, Satan’s little helper dogs her every step and offers her
things she’s only dreamed of, tempting Faye with a lifetime of
earthly treasures. And unconditional love. But will she yes to a love
that knows no bounds?

Anna Kirkpatrick isn't looking for love. Being a single mom to Bowan,
her eight-year-old autistic son, takes up all of her time...leaving no
room for romance. Willing to do anything to help her son come out of
his shell, Anna agrees to take Bowan to cooking classes with a world
class chef.

Motorcycle-riding pastry chef Leo Mancini isn't exactly searching for
"the one", either. After losing every penny he had, his business, and
his girlfriend, he's moved to northern Idaho to sulk, restart his
career, and pay his sister back for a loan that no amount of money
could ever really suffice.

When Anna and Leo discover that Bowan's fondness for the kitchen
extends beyond his peculiar cookbook collection, Leo quickly becomes
the one person who can break through his barriers. But will Leo and
Anna's attraction lead to more than just a weekly cooking lesson? 
Find this novella here:

Unable to bear the thought of losing his mortal wife, Caden Wolfe
steals the Elixir of Life and offers her eternity. But the theft is
discovered, his wife is slain, and Caden is stripped of his angel’s
wings and cast down into the Abyss.

Having drunk of the Elixir of Life, Phoebe Little’s soul is tied to
the earth in a perpetual cycle of death and rebirth. Unaware that she
has lived countless lives, Phoebe is haunted by the loss of a love she
has no memory of.

Caden has spent a thousand years searching for his wife. Now he has
found her, and only Phoebe’s love can redeem them both. But Phoebe
fell in love with an angel, and Caden is now a demon of the Abyss. Can
she see past what he has become, remember the love they once shared,
and have a second chance at forever?

Find this novella here :

Sunday, April 15, 2012

The Lucky Seven

I was tagged by my fabulous CP, Ryann Kerekes, for "The Lucky Seven."

Here's how it works:
1. Go to page 77 of your current MS/WIP
2. Go to line 7
3. Copy down the next 7 lines - sentences or paragraphs - and post them as they're written. No cheating
4. Tag 7 authors
5. Let them know

My challenge will be to tag 7 authors. Any volunteers?

She took in a deep breath, the small jolt of fear releasing. “Oh, good.” She stepped into his arms, accepting his hug.
There was less hesitation from him than earlier. He pulled her into him, circling both arms around her. The comfort was instant—she felt so safe with him, even with her mom’s voice continuing on from the sitting room, blabbing on about something or other in her most pathetic woe-is-me voice.
“Why is my mom on TV?”
“She’s on the news. You’ve been reported missing.”
He let her go and reached up to rub his eyes. She caught a glimpse of light emitting from his irises just before his lids shut, but it was yellow instead of blue.
“I didn’t know your eyes could have yellow fire in them.”
He frowned at her. His eyes were totally normal again; the fire in his irises was gone. “They’re never yellow.” He lit his eyes up again for a split second to prove his point. They were their usual hellfire blue.

Friday, April 13, 2012

Contest Time!

Welcome to my first ever contest!

I took a picture of my cutie at the zoo this week, and these fish snuck into the picture and gave me an idea for a contest.

All you have to do, is write the captions for the fish in the following picture:

For consistency, let's call the fish on the left, Moe, and the fish on the right, Lippy. Best voice and humour wins.

Up for grabs is a critique on either your query letter, or the first three pages of your manuscript- your pick.
Contest closes April 20th at 9pm MST.


Monday, October 24, 2011

Theatre in the Writing

Theatre was my passion in grade school. Now I wish I had taken legible, detailed notes in my high school drama class and kept them in a safe place until my writing passion developed. (Yes, I know, I'm hilarious).

Drama class never consisted of note taking, but the things I do remember apply to writing in very useful ways:

This refers to every movement made by an actor on stage. For an actor, this can be as hard to memorize as the lines. The margins of a script are never big enough to fit all the notes a director gives an actor. Then, the actor must make it all look natural instead of rehearsed a million times.

Each movement made by a character MUST have a purpose to it. But a character that doesn't move at all appears unnatural and stiff. The most common blocking purpose is to facilitate the scene (moves to door in response to the doorbell ringing). The more uncommon are propelled by emotion (pacing impatiently) or can be a character trait (moves to the table and runs a finger along the top for dust- character is a clean freak). The balance between dialogue and blocking must be made to keep the scene natural. And when you add more than one character to the stage, you must balance the blocking between them.

See how writing plays in yet?

This is a no-brainer. Even for those that have never set a foot in a theatre (though if you've never been in one for a live performance, I slap your cheek with a white glove and say 'get thee hither, man!') you know all about characters.

The difference is this: writing from inside the character's head, to actually embodying them. One particular drama class comes to mind, when our Drama teacher taught us the differences in how people walk. Some lead with their belly, some with their nose, some with their chests, and some with their toes... forehead... etc.

Bet you never thought of that, huh? (Now you'll be noticing this with people in public tee hee hee.) And while it may not be intrinsic to your plot whether your character leads with their belly or their forehead, it's still good practice to know your character that well. Also, posture says a lot about what that character thinks of themself.

Script Writing
There are times when a scene jumps into my head so fast, my fingers aren't fast enough to get it down before the magic passes. Sometimes it's just one layer of the scene that hits me (like just the dialogue, but not the blocking). In either case, I whip out my trusty pen and paper and jot it down, script style. I'll include a short example out of my notebook to show you what it would look like:

Cole: (pulls Lesser by his hair and pulls him up to half sitting) You'd better start talking
Lesser: What would you like to chat about, sweetheart?
C: There was a woman you took from the apartment. What happened to her?
L: We took 4 women. You'll have to be more specific.
C: She would've been more scared than the others.
L: Oh, you mean bear-slippers-and-a-bathrobe? Ugh, that lady wouldn't stop screaming.
C: (lights L on fire and watches him writhe)
L: (mocking) Your Daddy's fire is a lot worse than yours.

Then I can go to my keyboard and put it in with all the punctuation and proper blocking, etc.

Hope this helps. Break a... pen :)

Friday, October 21, 2011

"Leave Us Breathless" contest hosted by Brenda Drake.

Another great contest hosted by Brenda Drake. Get the deets for this contest here:

Title: Hellfire
Genre: YA Urban Fantasy
WC: In progress
This is a scene from my current WIP. Cole is half demon/half human. Humans are naturally afraid of him, so physical contact isn't something he's used to. This is from Avery's POV, who isn't a regular human, and isn't scared of Cole. This is Avery and Cole's first kiss.

Cole shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and stared out at the water. “It’s stupid. Forget about it.”
“No way.” I picked up a rock and put it in his hand. “If it’s so stupid then why don’t you just tell me?”
“Blooping isn’t something... I can’t really...” He gave a huge huff. “I’d have to show you, and I don’t know if you’d want me to.”
Cole was embarrased for once? I tried not to smirk. “Oh, I want you to show me all right.”
Looking me in the eye with one eyebrow raised, he said, “just remember that you asked for it.” He drew back to throw the rock in the lake, then hesitated. “The rule is we don’t stop until we hear the rock bloop.” The rock flew from his hand.
“Stop wh...”
He took my face in his hands and planted a kiss on my lips. It was tentative and soft, and quick since the rock went bloop.
Cole stepped back, and slowly bent to pick up another rock while I stayed rooted to the spot, frozen with tingling that broke free of my stomach and spread all over.
“Next time I throw it farther,” Cole said quietly and waited for me to nod.
He smiled, relieved, and wound his arm back. The rock flew.
His kiss was more confident this time. His lips parted slightly, and then the rock went bloop.
“One more throw,” he whispered.
“Make it far,” I whispered back.
He stepped back, bent down for a rock, and threw.
All hesitation left him, as though he couldn’t stand being careful around me anymore, and the guard he had kept up crumbled. His lips moved firmly over mine without being rough.
When we broke for air, Cole gasped and held me close. “Holy hell,” he whispered. He was trembling.

(P.S. I'm currently searching for critique partners. I write paranormal YA and some adult. If you think our styles would match nicely, send me an email.)

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

YA first page contest hosted by Brenda Drake (Can you hook a teen?)

Title: Hellfire
Genre: YA Urban Fantasy

Avery was fully dressed, under a sheet, and felt more exposed than if she were naked. Even if she were checked on, she could pretend to be asleep. There wouldn't be any reason for her covers to be ripped back, revealing her intentions, but the sleeveless top and jeans she had on felt like a traitorous beacon, calling out. She laid flat on her back, and staring through the darkness too aware of the rise and fall of her chest with the summer heat pressing down on her.

She couldn’t be early-standing out in the dark alley alone would be stupid. And if she was discovered to be out of bed, she'd be caught before Megan could pick her up. Being caught meant bruises and being locked in her room for a week, if she was lucky.

She couldn’t be late, either. Megan would wait for a minute, maybe two before creeping away, thinking Avery was unable to escape and not wanting to draw any unwanted attention.

The light from across the hall that leaked under Avery’s door had gone out forty-three minutes ago.

 Please let her be asleep by now.

Six minutes to go.

She had to move now, or she wouldn’t have enough time to get the window open and the screen out without feeling rushed and making noise. The edges of panic nipped at her as she sat up and pushed the sheet aside, but she knew from experience that if she allowed it to take hold, it would be harder to think and even harder to react. Her whole life she had lived knowing taught her this, and more than anything, she wanted control over her fear.

Saturday, June 25, 2011

Shelley Watters First Page Contest June 25

Here's the first 250 words of my paranormal romance (ghosts), Nepenthe. This is the same MS that was in the last contest, but it's undergone some revisions (hence the totally different opening). Good luck all!

(Resposted with some comments taken into consideration. Thanks!)

The night was chaotic, and I welcomed every minute of it. My new cafĂ© was buzzed as the new employees made their way through their first shift. The customers were came in steady and the desserts were flowed  fast. an hour after opening we were down to less than half of what was stocked in the display case that ran the length of the side wall of the cafe.

"Can you believe the turnout?” Trisha, my manager and new best friend, bounced beside me as she rinsed a large knife under hot water. “And it’s only June! Imagine how full we’ll be when peak tourist season hits next month.”

“Yeah, it’s great.” After years of working in my parent’s restaurant this wasn’t overwhelming. “Watch your cutting lines—we can’t afford any waste on a night like this,” I told her.

As I was about to lean down to grab a fruit flan for the next customer in line, a man about my age—maybe late twenties at the most, caught my attention. His light blue eyes were a stark contrast to his jet black hair, with irises the colour of blue jeans that had been washed too many times. They were bright though. Almost gleaming.

I’d seen him before, but never this close or for this long. A couple of times I’d caught him watching me from across the street while I spoke to the contractor about exterior renovations on the cafe. I was drawn to this mystery guy the first time I saw him, but he’d always dissapear before I got the chance to cross the street to speak with him.