Saturday, February 16, 2013

Weekend Writing Warriors ~ Stutter Creek ~ Next 8


    
 Hi everyone ~
Here are the next 8 sentences in my upcoming      romantic thriller, Stutter Creek.  It is slated for release on June 1, 2013

Following her father’s death and the collapse of her marriage, Beth retreats to the family cabin at Stutter Creek where she stumbles across the path of a serial killer and winds up fighting to stay alive.

Last week, while on her way to work the evening shift at the Water House Bar & Grill, Mandy spied a small boy standing beside the road.  She immediately slowed down to pull over and check on him.  This is where we pick up the story:
    
      The setting sun made the trees appear as black-paper cutouts in a landscape collage.
     After checking her mirrors to make sure no one was behind her, Mandy pressed the button to lower the passenger-side window.
            It was almost all the way down when a man yanked open the door and exploded into her world like a tornado into a trailer park.  Her hand flew to the gearshift, but she couldn’t engage it.  Even as her flight instinct kicked in, part of her mind was telling her this was almost certainly the same strange guy who had requested her section at the restaurant the night before.  His eyes had seemed to follow her all around the crowded dining room, and his oily stench had made him stand out like a spot of mold on white linen. 
            Mandy drew in breath to scream, her hand scrambling across the console for her phone or the gearshift, whichever came first, but he was too fast.  With lightning speed, he dove across the seat and slapped a rectangle of duct tape across her mouth.

AfterthoughtI hope you enjoyed today's snippet.  Be sure to check out the other author's at the main website:
 
wewriwa.com 
 



Tuesday, February 12, 2013

How Much is Too Much?

Okay, here's the question . . . how much gore is too much gore?

I love horror.  I grew up reading Poe, King, Koontz . . . I get it.  And I love The Walking Dead.  But do I have to see the zombie's head bashed in over and over again?  I know what it looks like.  I know how it sounds, been there, done that.  So why beat a dead horse, er, zombie?  I like the scare, but not the gore.  Am I simply getting old?  Okay, that was totally rhetorical, no answer necessary.  My main question is this, how much is too much?  What happened to the envelope?  Is there an envelope anymore, or has it been completely decimated?

The Walking Dead is almost old news, right.  But the reason I'm rehashing it now is because I felt the same way when I watched the premier of The Following starring Kevin Bacon.  Big fan of Bacon (LOL), but the opening of the show, with the tortured animals in the basement, no.  Lost me right there.  I gave it another chance on the second or third episode (not really sure which one), same thing.  The focus on the victim's face as he was dying, no.  Don't need that either.  Where's the darn story???  I think it should be retitled The Gory Faces of Death.  What a let down.

Okay, those are just my opinions, but hey, I'm sometimes honest to a fault.  Either that, or I'm just getting tired of watching TV between my splayed fingers, i.e. "Dude, is it over yet?"  (No, I'm not a teenage boy, Dude is my hubby.)

Now, for the real reason I'm writing this post . . . how much gore is too much?  I really wanna know!

You see, I write gory stories from time to time (check out the freebies in the title bar of this blog, and then go to Amazon and cough up 99 cents for Chems, my sci-fi pseudo-zombie short story), and I am now writing a horror novel that is getting gorier by the chapter.

So I'm not kidding when I ask for your thoughts.  I'll tell you my opinion: I think gore in books is much easier to take than gore splashed across my TV in living color.

Does that make me a gore-hypocrite?  Or would that be a gore-pocrite?

What do you think?  How much is too much?







Sunday, February 10, 2013

Crisis of Identify Blog Tour!









Hi Folks,
Today I'm posting for the awesome author, Denise Moncrief.  She will be giving away two autographed print copies of Crisis of Identity.  To be entered, all you must do is comment on this post and leave your email address.  Simple!


Available from 5 Prince Publishing www.5princebooks.com  books@5princebooks.com
Genre: Romance Suspense
Release Date: January 25, 2013

Digital ISBN 13: 978-1-939217-28-8 ISBN 10: 1939217288
Print ISBN 13: 978-1-939217-30-1 ISBN 13: 193921730x

Crisis of Identity:
Tess Copeland is an operator. Her motto? Necessity is the mother of a good a con. When Hurricane Irving slams into the Texas Gulf coast, Tess seizes the opportunity to escape her past by hijacking a dead woman’s life, but Shelby Coleman’s was the wrong identity to steal. And the cop that trails her? He’s a U.S. Marshall with the Fugitive Task Force for the northern district of Illinois. Tess left Chicago because the criminal justice system gave her no choice. Now she’s on the run from ghosts of misdeeds past—both hers and Shelby’s.

Enter Trevor Smith, a pseudo-cowboy from Houston, Texas, with good looks, a quick tongue, and testosterone poisoning. Will Tess succumb to his questionable charms and become his damsel in distress? She doesn’t have to faint at his feet—she’s capable of handling just about anything. But will she choose to let Trevor be the man? When Tess kidnaps her niece, her life changes. She must make some hard decisions. Does she trust the lawman that promises her redemption, or does she trust the cowboy that promises her nothing but himself?


Bio for Denise Moncrief
Denise wrote her first story when she was in high school—seventeen hand-written pages on school-ruled paper and an obvious rip-off of the last romance novel she read. She earned a degree in accounting, giving her some nice skills to earn a little money, but her passion has always been writing. She has written numerous short stories and more than a few full-length novels. Her favorite pastimes when she’s not writing are spending time with her family, traveling, reading, and scrapbooking. She lives in Louisiana with her husband, two children, and one very chubby dog.


How to contact Denise Moncrief:
Twitter: @dmoncrief0131



Enjoy this excerpt:

The room had already filled five times with sea-soaked bodies. The dead lay head-to-foot, column-by-column, row-by-row, ten by twenty. Victim 973 had scrawled her Social Security number down her left arm just as she’d been instructed. I noted the number on my log and moved on, trying hard not to think about the person, concentrating only on the morbid job some pushy cop forced on me.

Across the high school gymnasium, a man worked the other end of the column. As his stealthy glances trailed me around the gym, the acid in my overwrought stomach churned every time our eyes met.
“Want to take a break?” His sudden question reverberated throughout the cavernous space.
I curled one tendril of hair around my left ear. “Sure.”
I followed him into the locker room, grabbing a foam cup and filling it with tepid coffee. The man did the same from another urn. The burnt brew left traces of bitterness in my mouth. I rubbed my teeth over my tongue in a vain attempt to remove the acrid leftovers.
My mind turned off for a few precious moments as I ignored the makeshift morgue on the other side of the wall. The man’s strong, masculine bass invaded my mental hideaway. “They’re starting to smell ripe.” He gulped down another ounce of artificial stimulant, staring at me over the rim of his cup.
My insides flipped. “It’s been four days.”
He nodded. “Most of these don’t have numbers.”
“Makes it harder to identify them.”
He leaned against a locker. “This group must have thought they were invincible.”
“Doesn’t everyone?” I tossed my cup into the overflowing trash. “Think they’re invincible, I mean."

Afterthought: Don't forget to comment and leave your email address to be eligible to win!




Weekend Writing Warriors ~ 8 Sentence Sunday ~ Stutter Creek

Hi everyone ~
Here are the next 8 sentences in my upcoming romantic thriller, Stutter Creek.  It is slated for release around June 1, 2013.

Stutter Creek 
Tagline:

Following her father’s death and the collapse of her marriage, Beth retreats to the family cabin at Stutter Creek where she stumbles across the path of a serial killer and winds up fighting to stay alive.

In last Sunday's snippet, a girl named Mandy was on her way to work (evening shift) when she spied a small boy standing beside the road, alone. She texted her coworker, Myra, to ask her to tell the boss she was going to be late because she was stopping to pick up a boy on the edge of town. But Myra obviously didn't "get" what Mandy was telling her about the boy.


Here are the next 8:


Myra sent back a row of question marks.

“L8R,” Mandy responded. She looked all around. She had assumed the little guy would come 


dashing up to the car as soon as she had come to a stop. But even when she could no longer hear 

the crunch of her tires on gravel, he still hadn’t materialized.

I didn’t pass him by that much.

Craning her neck to see past the Toyota’s blind spot, Mandy dropped the phone into the center 

console drink holder and shoved the gearshift into park. A thick stand of live oaks cast a deep 

shadow over the bar ditch.

Afterthought: I hope you enjoyed today's snippet.  Be sure to check out the other author's at the main website:
 
wewriwa.com 

Friday, February 8, 2013

A Little Heat


This excerpt is from All For Love.  (Some people call it an anti-romance romance.) In this excerpt, Liz and Quinn have split up due to his infidelity.  He was supposed to pick up their daughter, Ashley, for the first time, for a daddy day, but he never showed.  This scene shows Liz arriving at his new "love nest" to put an end to the nonsense.       

Liz is the first person narrator:
            For a moment, my nerve faltered—he’d literally told me he didn’t want me anymore—but then my stubborn streak took over: this was my husband, the father of our little Ashley—and I wasn’t giving in without a fight.  Besides, he looked good.  So damn good that I didn’t even wait for an invitation, I simply stepped past him and strode into the sparsely furnished love nest.
            My nerve faltered again when I spied a pair of dainty gold bangles like twin circles of moisture on the cheap coffee table.  I wondered who had had bought them for her.  But I regained my courage when I recalled the look on her face when I’d announced to the world (at the grocery store where she worked) that she was sleeping with my husband. 
            Perhaps it was the lack of undergarments that made me so bold, or perhaps it was my long weekend in Cancun with Josรจ.  Just knowing someone else found me attractive was emboldening.  I picked up the bracelets and slipped them on my wrist, turning them this way and that, admiring them in the late afternoon light stippling the wall opposite the window.  Mine now, I thought, finders keepers.  So I sat on the edge of the tatty-looking sofa and pushed the pilfered bracelets up my arm, almost to my elbow.
            “You happy now?” I asked, a cold smile on my face.  I crossed my legs and admired my new heels.
            Quinn did not sit down.  Nor did he answer my question.  He rubbed his hand across his forehead and into his rough hair.  “You got a date?”
            I laughed.  It was a real, surprised, belly laughed.  Of all the things I thought he might say—get out of here, put down her bracelets, get lost—that question wasn’t even a blip on the radar screen.
            “What was your first clue?”  My voice squeaked only a bit.  I thought I saw his lips tighten; or it could have been wishful thinking.  I was winging it, playing it by ear.   If he had remembered to come and pick up Ashley like he should have, she might have told him about our weekend in Cancun, but I didn't think he knew a thing about it.  Apparently, out of sight, out of mind was his new mantra.
            I smoothed the hem of my jeans over the arch of my foot.  The heels added a couple inches of length to my just-average legs.
            “Where’s Ash?” He finally asked.
            I debated telling him it was none of his business since he hadn’t bothered to even call her, but I opted to continue the lie instead.  “We’re picking her up at Ronnie’s after dinner.  There’s a new Disney movie she’s dying to see.”  I stood up to go.  I wanted to tell him she was home thinking about suicide, begging to go back to Cancun because she couldn’t stand life in the house that used to be our home.  But I didn’t want him back under those conditions.  I didn’t want his pity.  I knew that would make things even worse.  “I just came by to give you this ... ” I held out his Master Card.  “It’s way too tempting to ruin your credit the way you’re ruining our lives.”
            Pushing past him, I dropped the card on the floor.  “Besides, I’ve got perfect credit under my maiden name.”  The funny thing was, I really did.  I’d finally managed to pay off our honeymoon debt (just in time for him to take a lover), and it was like a little scarf of independence I wrapped around my neck when things got cold or iffy. 
            Did he groan as I brushed against him to get to the door?  Maybe it was my imagination, but the next thing I knew, his hand was on my arm and he was turning me into the planes of his chest and it was as if everything was new again, but tarnished, dirty.  Maybe the tawdriness of it made me want him more; or perhaps it was desperation.  It was sort of an all or nothing gambit.  I took the lead and I didn’t care if he was satisfied or not.  I did what I wanted and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that a lot of my desire was fueled by pure white-hot rage.

Wednesday, February 6, 2013

Heart Like an Ocean ~ Launch Day!

Don't you just love this title?  And check out the gorgeous cover ~ they are both so evocative.  The excerpt is great, too.  I'm putting this one on my to-be-read list right now!  Read on to learn more about fellow 5 Prince author, Christine Steendam, and to read the excerpt!





Press Release Launch Kit
For
Heart like An Ocean
Christine Steendam






Available from 5 Prince Publishing www.5princebooks.com  books@5princebooks.com
Genre: Fiction, Romance, Historical
Release Date: February 7, 2013
Digital ISBN 13: 978-1-939217-29-5 10: 1-939217-29-6                       
Print ISBN 13: 978-1-939217-32-5 10: 1-939217-32-6

                                  

Heart Like An Ocean:
In a society where she doesn't belong, Senona Montez, a strong-willed and free-spirited woman refuses to follow the path expected of a Don's only child.
On the eve of her marriage to a stranger, she saddles her horse and flees everything she knows, only to discover the petty concerns of society did not prepare her for the harsh life on the open sea. She finds an unlikely protector in a reckless privateer, Brant Foxton.
Straddling the worlds of independence and privilege in 1600's Europe, this captivating man challenges her in ways she never thought possible, shows her what living to the fullest really means, and allows her to follow her heart wherever it leads.


Christine Steendam Bio:
Christine has been writing stories since she could put pen to paper and form words. Now, many years later, her debut novel is scheduled to be released and her second book is in the works.
Christine has spent the better half of her life owning and working with horses, and these four legged companions often find their way into her stories. After all, no work of women’s fiction would be complete without a horse or two (in Christine’s opinion at least).
She currently makes her home in the center of the world—no, really. Look at an atlas.





PUBLIC AUTHOR CONTACT INFO:



Heart Like An Ocean Excerpt:
Spain-1666
Senona looked around the room full of swirling dresses of so many shapes and colors. It was like a dream and left her overwhelmed and unable to tear her eyes away. Tonight she was a princess in her new dress with her hair curled, cascading in loose waves down her back. Tonight she was perfect.
Browsing the room, this time in search of familiar faces, Senona spotted Caton Amador, and Isidro Amato. The boys, although older, were her friends and a welcome relief to the overwhelming nature of her surroundings. She made her way around the perimeter of the room in their general direction.
Isidro was never very serious about anything and enjoyed teasing Senona, which annoyed her to no end. Caton was much more subdued and quiet, at least around her. Although they were not as close as they once had been, the families remained good friends, and the three of them spent many hours riding around the countryside or playing games in the garden. When they were younger, Isidro and Caton had been her constant companions, helping her sneak out of tea with their Madres or rescuing her from lessons with her tutor. Now they never voluntarily saw each other, but due to their families’ relationship, they found themselves together often enough. 
“Senona, my Chica! You are a picture of beauty, as always,” boomed Isidro’s obnoxious and teasing voice.
Caton turned to look at the young girl. “Leave her alone, Isidro.”
“Come on, Caton. She’s glad to see us.”
Caton frowned but said nothing, turning his attention back to the pretty girl standing next to him. Isidro seemed to accept that as permission to continue, and he smirked mockingly at Senona, beckoning her. The small flock of girls that surrounded the two boys giggled, causing her to blush and become hesitant and uncomfortable. She had never seen the boys in this environment, and she quickly questioned her decision that she belonged with them.
“It’s okay, Isidro. I just wanted to say hello.”
“Well then, run along. There must be some of your friends around.”
Senona forced a smile and turned to Caton. “Hello, Caton.” 
He barely acknowledged her with a brief glance and nod in her direction, and then returned to ignoring her. Unsure of how to deal with Caton’s rejection, she walked away, her eyes burning with angry tears that threatened to spill over. Why was he being so rude? Not even so much as a hello, as if he were embarrassed to be associated with her. 
As she pushed her way through the crowd, she heard one of the girls laugh. “Caton, I do believe you hurt her feelings.”
Caton’s deep, unmistakable chuckle cut through the din and his voice was all she heard. “She’s a silly, strange girl. I would rather not encourage her.”
Senona expected this behavior from Isidro, but from Caton? She had always thought he was honest and simple, but his actions tonight had shown her otherwise. She had been a fool to think that these older boys were her friends.
Escaping into the shadows, she hid from the sneering glances and mocking laughter that seemed to follow her wherever she went. She had thought that tonight would be different, but nothing had changed. She was just a strange little girl.
The night was a blur, a blur of swirling skirts and obnoxious voices. To nearly everyone she was invisible. Even her Madre and Padre, who had never been overly affectionate towards their daughter, seemed to have completely forgotten her existence. But that wasn’t so different from normal. They weren’t very affectionate people ever, even towards each other. 
At the end of the night, Senona lay in bed, her new dress hanging in her wardrobe, mocking her. She had realised tonight how far she fell from society’s standards, her own parents’ standards. Any illusion she had of being a princess, of being perfect for one night had been shattered. But that didn't really bother her. The truly odd thing was that she felt a weight lifted from her shoulders. Perhaps she didn’t have to be that way. Perhaps now she had the freedom to do as she wanted. It wasn’t as if anyone cared about her anyway. She was just a strange little girl.