Wednesday, August 27, 2014

Guest Post - Erika Reed - Shattered Hearts


My wonderful friend, Erika Reed, has a new release!

Four years after running away from the man she loved, Peyton Montgomery is coming home.
With nowhere to live, no money in the bank, and still stinging from being served her divorce papers, Peyton is returning to help her mother care for her father after a heart attack. Being back means eventually she’ll run into the man that broke her heart and ruined her for anyone else. When they do cross paths, Peyton soon discovers she wasn’t the only one that lost so much after she left.  

Because of one drunken mistake, Jackson Holt lost the woman he loved. Now he has a second chance at mending the relationship he once had with Peyton, but he has a confession he needs to get off his chest before they both can move forward and claim the life and the love they lost the night Peyton left.

BUY IT NOW AT:



STALK ERIKA REED ON THE WEB AT:

BLOG     FACEBOOK

Or email her at: erikareedauthor49@gmail.com

Monday, August 25, 2014

Sleepus interruptus - when deadlines attack

If I didn't have a day job, this would be me right now.

There's nothing like waking up at two in the morning in a state of pure panic, convinced that you have somehow brought yourself to the brink of ruination if you don't fix something right this second. I flew out of bed in a tizzy, heart pounding, cat giving me a disgusted look at waking her up (and she's the nocturnal one.) I had actually taken a few staggering steps towards the door before it occurred to me that I had no idea why I was awake, what I was supposed to be fixing, or how I was supposed to be fixing it. 

It took a few more minutes of muddled thinking before I could, with any confidence, tell myself to stop panicking and get my ass back to bed. I did manage to drift off again, but the rest of the night was spent in a state of perpetual fretting, tossing and turning as fragments of thoughts and worries poured through my weary head. 

As you might imagine, morning came far too quickly for my liking. Adding insult to injury, it's a Monday morning, and that means my 9-5 job will be a blend of chaos and coffee without any writing time. As for what's sending my subconscious into a tailspin? I'm in the home stretch of Wilde Ink, so I have two different reason for my state of panic. 

1) Word count. I have 10k words left until I hit my max word count for this series, and I still have a lot of story left to tell. Making matters worse, my characters insisted on having sex instead of moving the plot forward as I had intended, and it was too hot to cut, so now I've got fewer words to work with before I type  "the end." Dratted, stubborn characters, thinking for themselves.

2) Word count. Yes, I said that already, but this is a different issue. (really!) I want this book completed and in to my publisher by the end of the month. That's...*looks at a calendar and screams in silent panic*  not many days from now. Seven, in fact. I have less than seven days to get those last ten thousand words written, reviewed, rewritten, reviewed again and ready to go...along with a synopsis.

I have the strange feeling that sleep and I are not going to be seeing a lot of each other until after this book is submitted. Which is pretty much what happens at the end of every book I write, along with a day of mourning when I have to say goodbye to the characters that have been part of my life for the weeks and months it took to write their story.

I'll miss them when the time comes. But right now, what I'm really missing is my pillow. 

My awesome parents bought me a Keruig coffee maker for my birthday a little while ago. It might be the one thing that gets me through the next few days. 

I love being a writer. I love the craziness, the strange hours and the voices that whisper in my head. I wouldn't give it up for anything, not even another hour of sleep.




Tuesday, August 19, 2014

Guest Author - Willow Brooke - Enlisting her Heart



Blurb:

The troops finally land a vacation in a tropical paradise for some much needed R&R and a honeymoon celebration. With time to unwind, Hulk (Zane Menroe) moves in on the one little red head that’s been on his mind since she arrived at the ranch- Violet Larose. He’d been keeping her at a distance until he got grips on some of the anxiety and anger issues that kept plaguing him. Their mission is at a stand still and the sun warm, sand soft, and drinks ever flowing. What better time then the present to make his move?

Kodiak (Nik Hughes) has enjoyed the playful flirting with Violet, but wants more. A lot more. He knows Hulk has a thing for her that she returns, but doesn’t think that should stop him from moving in. What’s to not like about a good ménage relationship, right? Normally, it’d be the woman that would need some extra convincing and persuasion, but not in this case. He’s up against not only one of the most stubborn soldiers he’d ever met, but one that is suffering from extreme PTSD and in denial.

With the enemy hunting on their territory and endangering the family they hold so dear, the unit must lay it all on the line to protect them. The mission is down to the wire and the victory in sight, but can they figure out who is friend, and who is foe?

This book contains real problems that real soldiers deal with on a daily basis. Join me in a journey of love, action, and a family pulling together to help their soldiers regain control of their life as they take on the world in order to protect our country and defend our freedom. Sweet romance, hot ménage sex that will curl your toes, and a bunch of soldiers who will steal your heart and leave you wanting more all awaits you!



Enlisting her Heart is now available at AMAZON


You can find out more about Willow Brooke, including the rest of the Breaking Protocol books at her website: Willowbrooke.weebly.com or email her at willowbrookebooks@gmail.com

Monday, August 18, 2014

Writers Against Bullying - why I am taking part



The Evernight family of authors is getting together to help get the anti-bullying message out via selfies and social media, and I thought I’d talk a little about what I know about bullying.

It hurts.

I’m forty-four years old, and I can still hear the taunts and cruel comments of my fourth grade classmates. I can remember the heartbreak of having my closest friends turn their backs on me. I didn’t know then that they too, were being bullied, pressured into going along with the mob. I only knew that I had lost all my friends.

I lost a lot more than that before the school year end. I lost my smile. I lost my confidence, and I lost part of who I was supposed to be. I had my childhood stolen from me by other children, and they got away with it because they were just “kids being kids.” One counsellor even told me that if I was being bullied, I must be doing something to cause it, that somehow I deserved it.

I gained things too. Scars on my back from being poked and slashed with those nasty little math set compasses we had to buy every year (but almost never used.) I learned how to fight, because I had to defend myself from constant physical attacks. I learned not to trust teachers or counsellors, because no matter what my parents had promised me, not every adult was willing to help, or even let themselves see what was happening to me on a daily basis. Being bullied gave me a spectacular set of anxieties that I still have to do battle with to this day.

Grade four was the first time I experienced true bullying, but it wasn’t the last. My self confidence was already shattered by the time my parents moved me to another school, and that was all it took to continue the cycle. I would never fit in again. That ship had sailed and I was stuck on the island of lost dreams with the rest of the social misfits for the rest of my academic prison sentence. (we were easy to identify, we were the ones with eyes downcast, scuttling down the hallways with our shoulders hunched, waiting for the next mocking taunt or random shove.) I was bitten, beaten up, mocked, teased and ignored. I ate my lunches hiding in the art room, under the protection of one of the few teachers who saw what was happening and offered me a safe haven.

These days, I don’t let anyone bully me. I’ve got a successful career, good friends and a life I am proud of. I carry myself with confidence. (or at least I try to.) I have tattoos, pink hair and enough ‘tude to carry me through just about anything. I’ll tell you a secret though, it doesn’t matter. Part of me is still that lost, hurt, nine year old girl. I still feel her hurt and hear her self doubts. I just don’t let it stop me from being who I want to be. Who I should have been.

Before the bullies took that from me.

No one deserves to be bullied. It’s never an acceptable way to treat another person, not as a child, or as an adult. Bullies come in all shapes, sizes, and ages. They can be a child in the playground, a boss, or a stranger on the street.

We can end bullying, but that means doing the one thing that scares most of us to death. It means standing up to the bullies and telling them to stop. If someone had stood up for me, I know my life would have been different.

This world can be better, but only if we all stand up for what’s right.

Friday, August 8, 2014

Inked

The deed is done and I am now the proud owner of a new tattoo. I'm really pleased with how it came out. Since this tattoo was on my forearm,  I was able to watch the artist at work for the first time. It was fascinating to see her transform a simple stenciled shape into a work of art. Seeing the difference between how lines and shading are created, watching the tattoo take shape and being able to ask questions because I could see what was happening from moment to moment, all made this a very unique experience. I already know that some of these details will be making their way into Wilde Ink, which I'm currently writing.



The design is based on the scroll "fertility tattoo" given to women in the 3013 series I write with Laurie Roma. Of course, those women have the tattoo by their eye, but I opted for my arm instead. This way I can see it whenever I want without needing a mirror. Now if I could just find a couple of fine fellows to claim I could get a matching one on my other arm, life would be perfect....
Ah well, a girl can dream!