Tuesday, 3 March 2015

Interview with Mia Kerick!

I’m so excited today to have Mia Kerick here today for an interview! Thank you for stopping by my blog Mia!
Hi Trisha!! I am so glad to be here!! You have been supporting my writing efforts for so long, and I want to thank you for that.

Why don’t you start off by telling us a little about Inclination?
Inclination is a one of my most content-rich novels, and by that I mean that it’s not “just a romance.” In order to accomplish my goal, which was to prove that God loves gay Christians, I needed to do the research and present it fully, hopefully in a way that was user-friendly. Or maybe reader-friendly. But the information had to be there.

So, your latest release Inclination is an m/m YA Christian fiction sort of book. What was it like it write and did what inspired you to write it?
My inspiration to write Inclination came from several places. First, as I am an LGBT romance writer I believe that romance (if you are one who seeks it) is critical to the well-being of the soul. I realized that two people could be completely compatible and incredibly in love, and due to the teachings of their faiths, could not share a blessed happily ever together. As “Love is What I See” is my slogan, this intolerable realization motivated me to write. It seemed illogical to me that a loving God would set His followers up to live in a situation such as this.
I also have personal, what I’ll call, “rule-following” issues with Catholicicsm, as I never could follow all of the rules well enough to feel like I was a “good Catholic”. In my research about LGBT Christianity, I was set free from several of my own hang-ups of what it means to be a person of faith. My excitement that maybe I was, after all, a good Christian, extended into my hope that other people could also feel this way, if I brought my newly found beliefs to light.

Was writing Anthony’s struggle with his sexual orientation while wanting to stay true to God and his Catholic faith a hard thing to do as someone who is also Catholic? Or did that make it easier?
I used the Catholicism as the backdrop for Anthony’s crisis because, being Catholic, I am most familiar with this religion. However, I just as easily could have used Protestantism, or many other world religions, as the basis of my story. The research would have been different to some extent, but I belive that very often the nature of the conclusion would be the same, in terms of following the spirit of a religion rather than “the rules” that have long been interpreted by human beings. And I never bashed Catholicism. I simply stated the Chrurch’s laws in regard to homosexual behavior as they currently exist, and wrote a story of how Anthony Del Vecchio had to deal with it.
In addition, the research I did to write Inclination actually made my faith stronger, as I was cured of my worry that God would act arbitrarily. He is not an arbitrary God. There are reasons and purposes to His expectations of us.

Personally, I know I connected with Anthony and his struggles with the religion vs. sexuality (or in my case, beliefs). Did you face a similar struggle?
I wrote some of his struggles, for example the compulsive need to go to confession, from my own personal struggles. Also, shades of Anthony’s sexuality struggles were taken from personal experience. So there is a lot of Mia Kerick in Anthony. Although the details of our specific concerns are different, the nature of them are the same.

Do you have a favorite character in the book?
Of course I love Anthony, as he is a little bit me and he is the main charactter, but I will say I tend to be more in love with David Gandy, Anthony’s love interest. I like that his exteriror is cold and sarcastic and a little intimidating, but that the interior of his heart and soul is soft and tender and vulnerable and filled with hope.

Do you have a playlist for Inclination?
The list of songs that go with Inclination is pretty much endless, but here are some of the primary ones that were in my head as I wrote.
“Place in this World” by Michael W. Smith
“Here I am, Lord” by Dan Schutte
“Abide With Me” by Henry Francis Lyte
“Be Not Afraid” by John Michael Talbot
“God of Wonders” by Third Day
“Danny Boy” by Frederic Weatherly
“Amazing Grace” by John Newton

Tell us a bit about your writing process! Do you listen to music while you write or do you need complete silence? Do you have a certain place you prefer to write?
My favorite place to write, and where I am sitting right now, in fact, is on the couch in my Red Sox room, a family room that is dedicated to the Boston Red Sox. I have written thirteen or so books, mainly on this couch. A disturbing fact: we are replacing the couch with a very plush and soft sectional. I hope this change in seating doesn’t affect my writing, but my current couch has seen many better days. It has to go.
And music is very important to the inspirational aspect of my writing, more than an actual requirement for my daily writing.
In terms of the writing process, itself, I have a general story in my head and a pretty good idea of the two main characters when I start writing. I then write about three chapters, and I sort out the way the characters speak, their attitudes, their way of interacting, and then I stop for a while. During this time I find images of them online, as I really need visuals of the characters in order to write about them. I call the time during which I do not write, “letting my ideas percolate”. Before I dive back into writing, I develop a general and messy outline just filled with ideas in chronological order. No Roman numerals involved. And after the percolation is finished, I get back to the job of writing. However, my “best laid” (I know, messily laid) plans are subject to change if the characters seem to be taking the story in a different direction.

What are you writing now?
I am writing a YA Gay Romance/Fiction about a gay teenager’s struggle with substance abuse.

What’s the best way for people to get in touch with you?
I always reply to readers who connect with me via email at miakerick@gmail.com. I love to hear from readers who feel that my stories have made a difference to them.

Again, thank you so much for stopping by. It’s been great having you here. 
Thank you, Trisha, for having me today!! Thank you for the thoughtful questions.




About the book:
Sixteen-year-old Anthony Duck-Young Del Vecchio is a nice Catholic boy with a very big problem. It’s not the challenge of fitting in as the lone adopted South Korean in a close-knit family of Italian-Americans. Nor is it being the one introverted son in a family jam-packed with gregarious daughters. Anthony’s problem is far more serious—he is the only gay kid in Our Way, his church’s youth group. As a high school junior, Anthony has finally come to accept his sexual orientation, but he struggles to determine if a gay man can live as a faithful Christian. And as he faces his dilemma, there are complications. After confiding his gayness to his intolerant adult youth group leader, he’s asked to find a new organization with which to worship. He’s beaten up in the church parking lot by a fanatical teen. His former best pal bullies him in the locker room. His Catholic friends even stage an intervention to lead him back to the “right path.” Meanwhile, Anthony develops romantic feelings for David Gandy, an emo, out and proud junior at his high school, who seems to have all the answers about how someone can be gay and Christian, too.

Will Anthony be able to balance his family, friends and new feelings for David with his changing beliefs about his faith so he can live a satisfying life and not risk his soul in the process?

Friday, 30 January 2015

Crush by Laura Susan Johnson New Cover Reveal!

One of my favorite books by one of my favorite people has a new cover! Laura Susan Johnson, who is a close friend, just added the new cover to her book Crush. I've always loved this story. It's one of my favorite books. It's heartbreaking, beautiful and eventually hopeful. This is hands down one of the hardest books I ever read, but it was worth it. And I'm so glad she is allowing me to show you all the new cover.




Isn't it amazing? The beautiful cover and photo are by Regina Wamba at MaeIDesign! She's fantastic!

If you'd like to buy the book, here are the links:
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Crush-House-Glass-Beach-Book-ebook/dp/B0096FLPRC/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1422625894&sr=8-1&keywords=Crush+Laura
ARE: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-crush-1733480-149.html

Thursday, 1 January 2015

Rise & Fall by Charlie Cochet Cover Reveal!

Hello all! Welcome to the Rise & Fall (THIRDS, Book 4) cover reveal! I'm super excited to share with you the cover for the latest THIRDS book by the fabulous L.C. Chase! There's also a giveaway, and Rise & Fall is now available for preorder!
Rise&Fall500

The bigger they are, the harder they fall.

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Book Details

Title: Rise & Fall (THIRDS, Book #4) Author: Charlie Cochet Publisher: Dreamspinner Press Cover Artist: L.C. Chase ISBN eBook: 9781632167699 ISBN Paperback: 9781632167682 Length: 236 Pages Genre: M/M Romance, Shifters, Paranormal, Science Fiction, Mystery/Suspense

Blurb

After an attack by the Coalition leaves THIRDS Team Leader Sloane Brodie critically injured, agent Dexter J. Daley swears to make Beck Hogan pay for what he’s done. But Dex’s plans for retribution are short-lived. With Ash still on leave with his own injuries, Sloane in the hospital, and Destructive Delta in the Coalition’s crosshairs, Lieutenant Sparks isn’t taking any chances. Dex’s team is pulled from the case, with the investigation handed to Team Leader Sebastian Hobbs. Dex refuses to stand by while another team goes after Hogan, and decides to put his old HPF detective skills to work to find Hogan before Theta Destructive, no matter the cost.
With a lengthy and painful recovery ahead of him, the last thing Sloane needs is his partner out scouring the city, especially when the lies—however well intentioned—begin to spiral out of control. Sloane is all too familiar with the desire to retaliate, but some things are more important, like the man who’s pledged to stand beside him. As Dex starts down a dark path, it’s up to Sloane to show him what’s at stake, and finally put a name to what’s in his heart.

Preorder links

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Release Day February 2nd, 2015

Giveaway

Excerpt

“YOU’RE GOING to get us fucking killed!”
Dex ignored Ash and hit the gas, speeding after the ambulance heading up route 9A toward NY Presbyterian Hospital, its wailing siren and flashing lights an unyielding reminder of what he stood to lose. The ambulance had left before them, but Dex was in his Challenger with its own THIRDS installed lights flickering and sending out a warning to everyone around him to get the hell out of his way.
When Ash finally released Dex from his iron grip, Dex had stood on the sidewalk in front of his house, amidst the smoke and burning car parts unable to believe what had happened. He’d been at a loss, watching the chaos unfold as emergency teams and THIRDS agents flooded the scene. Orders had been shouted, the area evacuated, blue and black THIRDS tape marking off his personal disaster zone. And then a bright orange beacon parked near the end of the block gave him clarity.
Dex maneuvered through four lanes of traffic, changing gears and working the pedals. No one knew how to drive his baby like he did, and nothing on God’s green earth was going to make him lose that ambulance. Not with Sloane in the back of it fighting for his life.
Sloane….
No matter how hard Dex tried, his head kept replaying the scene like a goddamn looped video: Dex bolting for the front door, not caring what might be on the other side—getting to Sloane had been all that mattered. He has to be okay. Please God, let him be okay. Clouds of thick black smoke. The sidewalk in front of his house looking like a war zone, littered with debris and pieces of twisted car parts. The trees on fire. Dex tackled to the ground, the breath stolen from his lungs. Ash on him keeping him safe. Bullets flying. Sloane under a piece of mangled door. Screeching sirens and uniformed bodies rushing in. Blood everywhere. Sloane unmoving. A jagged piece of metal sticking out of his side. Blood, so much blood.
It should have been me.
“Fuck! Mother fucking asshole son of a bitch!” Dex slammed his hand against the steering wheel before swerving around some bastard going the speed limit. He was losing his shit. It was fast approaching much like the yellow—soon to be red—light ahead of him, yet he was helpless to stop it. The Challenger flew past the red, missing an oncoming taxi by inches.
“Enough!” Ash snapped at him. “You’re gonna get us fucking killed! Keep your shit together and get us to the fucking hospital in one goddamn piece, or I swear to Christ I will fucking knock your ass out and drive us there myself.”
Dex wanted to tell Ash where he could stick his threats, but he didn’t. He heard Ash suck in a sharp breath, and Dex eased his foot off the accelerator just enough to keep the ambulance’s flashing lights in sight a few cars ahead. Ash held on to the passenger door with one hand, his other pressed against his side to ease the pain along with the slow trickle of blood seeping through his torn stitches. Stitches he’d torn saving Dex.
“Sorry,” Dex said through his teeth. They were almost at the hospital, which meant more traffic. “Sorry for being an asshole and for what I’m about to do. Hold on.” He hit the gas pedal again, and the engine thundered as he raced forward. After a couple of close calls, they got to the hospital before the ambulance. He skidded into valet parking, put the Challenger in park, jumped out, and tossed the keys to the valet guy. Ignoring his teammate’s bitching, Dex called out over his shoulder for Ash to take care of it. The ambulance arrived seconds later, and Dex ran up to it, watching with his heart in his throat as the backdoors swung open and the EMTs rushed out. The gurney swiftly emerged with Sloane strapped down on his uninjured side, an oxygen mask covering his nose and mouth, and the jagged metal piece jutting out from the right side of his torso. Removing it without surgery was clearly out of the question.
Dex followed the EMTs as they rushed Sloane through the huge open glass doorway into the hospital, shouting out codes and medical jargon Dex couldn’t make out. One of the EMTs said something about the THIRDS, and a Therian nurse behind the desk snatched up a phone and rambled something off. Within seconds, a handful of Therian doctors and nurses came running, joining the EMTs as they stole Sloane away into a wide, brightly lit corridor. Dex attempted to follow only to have his path blocked by two male Therian nurses.
“He’s my partner,” Dex pleaded, trying to get around them.
“I’m sorry, sir, but you can’t go in there.”
“The hell I can’t. He’s my partner!” Dex grabbed one of the nurses when a pair of beefy arms wrapped around Dex’s waist, lifting him off his feet and away. “Fuck off, Ash! Get off!” He couldn’t leave Sloane in there all alone. Sloane hated hospitals as it was. What if he woke up and freaked out? What if he didn’t know where he was? What if something happened and Dex wasn’t there? He couldn’t lose Sloane now. It wasn’t Sloane’s time. They hadn’t had enough time!
“You’re not the only one who needs him.”
Dex stilled. It wasn’t so much Ash’s words, but the subtle desperation behind them. Ash put him down, and Dex turned, the look on Ash’s dirt-smudged face taking the fight out of Dex. He’d never seen the gruff agent looking so helpless, and despite clearly having his own fears, Ash met his gaze.
“He’s all the family I’ve got. Just let them do their job. It’s the best we can do for him.”
Dex swallowed hard and nodded. He had to get a hold of himself. It was only when Ash winced that Dex remembered the guy was slowly bleeding out. “Shit, Ash. Come on. We need to get you fixed up.”
“I’m fine,” Ash muttered, wiping the sweat from his beaded brow.
“Yeah, you look fine.” Dex refused to give in to his teammate’s stubbornness. He called over a nurse who took one look at Ash and ran off to get assistance. Ash continued to argue when Dex spotted his dad marching their way. Tony stopped beside them, his gaze dropping to Ash’s hand against his bleeding side before he barked out an order.
“Keeler, get your ass in there and get those stitches seen to.”
Ash looked like he wanted to argue but knew better. With a resigned sigh, he headed for the anxious looking nurses. As soon as Ash disappeared, Tony put a hand to Dex’s shoulder, concern in his deep brown eyes. It was too much for Dex right now.
“Hey. I’m going to take a walk. Call me if anything happens.”
Thankfully, his dad knew him well and gave him a nod. He removed his hand from Dex’s shoulder and let him go. Right now, Tony had to be his sergeant. Anything else would break Dex’s tremulous hold on his emotions. He walked off to gather his strength. He was going to need it.


About the Author

Charlie_Cochet_by_madison_parker150Charlie Cochet is an author by day and artist by night. Always quick to succumb to the whispers of her wayward muse, no star is out of reach when following her passion. From Historical to Fantasy, Contemporary to Science Fiction, there’s bound to be plenty of mischief for her heroes to find themselves in, and plenty of romance, too!
Currently residing in South Florida, Charlie looks forward to migrating to a land where the weather includes seasons other than hot, hotter, and boy, it’s hot! When she isn’t writing, she can usually be found reading, drawing, or watching movies. She runs on coffee, thrives on music, and loves to hear from readers.
Website | Blog | Facebook | Twitter | THIRDS HQ | Tumblr | Pinterest Email: charlie@charliecochet.com
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Wednesday, 24 December 2014

Happy Christmas Everyone!

Happy Christmas Everyone!



So for those of you who don't know. I absolutely love Christmas. It's my favorite time of the year and I always feel like a little girl again when the time of year comes around. This year I have a new laptop which is great because it means I can get more writing done. 

I just want to take this time to thank everyone who has supported me over the last few months. It's been amazing and I've made a lot of friends this year.

I'm hoping to have my first novel, The Secrets of Jesse & Noah out sometime in April. It could be later, but that's my own goal at the moment. I'm almost finished the sequel, too. And once that's done, I will be sending it to my betas also. I'm really excited for you all to meet my boys and I hope you all like them.

I hope everyone has a really great Christmas. That you get some nice presents and have a great time with your family. And I hope you all have a happy and healthy new year.

Friday, 7 November 2014

Jesse & Noah Title and Blurb Reveal!

Hi guys!

So today I'm going to reveal the title and blurb of my first novel! I'm so excited about this book and the couple. They are really special to me, and I hope you guys like their story when it comes out next year. :)

Title: The Secrets of Jesse & Noah
Blurb:
Jesse
He thinks he knows me, the real me.
The person hidden beneath the skin.
But he’s wrong.
I’ve kept secrets and told lies, all so I can protect him.
He’s my best friend, my protector, my everything.
I can’t tell him my darkest secrets, they would ruin him like they’re ruining me.
My secrets are killing me, slowly, painfully.
But they’re my secrets to keep. My secrets to hide.
He says he wants to know the truth.
But the truth would destroy us both.

Noah
I know his secrets, most of them anyway.
But there are things he doesn’t want me to know.
Secrets he keeps from me.
He doesn’t think I can handle the truth. But he’s wrong, I can do anything for him.
We’ve been best friends since the day we met.
And I’ve loved him every day since.
He’s told me things, things about himself no one else knows.
But he doesn’t fully trust me.
I want him to trust me.

I could handle all of his pain, if he’d just let me.

Playlist:
A Play Button

D.J. Taylor Guest Post.


Today D.J. Taylor is here to talk about what inspired him to write his novel, The Goldfish and the Earthquake!

It was I who slept through the earthquake. I was studying at the time, completing a degree in forensic biosciences, and had always been a heavy sleeper, the degree to which I didn’t find out until I woke the next morning. To reports on the radio, my girlfriend’s account of it and, as the day went on and I went through the daily grind, everyone else’s. It became increasingly clear that I had missed something momentous. Something I’d probably never experience again. The beginnings of a story started to form in my mind. But it would be years before I realised it.

I had grown up in a small Yorkshire village, a place of agriculture if not nature, hamlets dotted in and around fields, corn and rapeseed as far as the eye could see during the summer and expanses of frozen mud during the winter. It was here that I met the best friend that I ever had.

We had known each other as children, but at some point, the memory blurred now, he had moved away. His father started work in Saudi Arabia as an engineer on an oilrig, and took the family with him. They returned when I was on the threshold of teenhood, they rich enough to send my friend and their only son to a private school, but not so rich that it afforded them a grand-enough house as to flaunt their wealth. I, one of four children of a moderate-income household, was separated from my friend during school hours, attending a Roman Catholic state school.

Like many teenagers, I went through life not aware of much of anything. But my friend was different. He’d already worked everything out, saw schooling for what it was, could see the progression of life at such a young age, his take on it bleak. When happy, he wouldn’t speak of his other life away from me and our friends. But sometimes, usually when we were alone, he would become pensive about the social structure at his school. Talk about being rejected by the ‘richer kids’, alienated by the poorer kids in the village. He hid it well, but I would realise in later years that he was deeply unhappy.

We separated again when we reached adulthood, but unlike after his father’s working away, we wouldn’t be reunited this time, at least not as friends during a time of boundless freedom. I, academically successful, went away to university; he, destined to be unsuccessful by what he called a ‘dumb set of genes’, stayed in the same village.

I started writing not long after university. I’d always enjoyed writing assignments, preferring those over studying for exams. I suppose going on to write stories filled the hole left when I finished my education, and went someway to relieving the mundanity of working life - he was right about that, at least.

After many failed attempts, both short fiction and novels, I found my voice. Had sharpened the tools necessary to write an engaging work of fiction. During the process, I would send short fiction to my father, who, employing his well-meaning but ham-fisted diplomacy, gave tip-of-iceberg negative reviews at worst and criticised with faint praise at best. But one story he liked. A story I’d written about feuding half-brothers, one having slept through an earthquake.

And so it was that I would turn this short story into a novel, fuelled by my father’s positive appraisal. The short story was a mere three thousand words, and needed fleshing out. The earthquake had to have a wider meaning, more than just the focal point of a brother’s teasing of his younger sibling. The characters needed to be elaborate. A complex narrative written that would have the earthquake as the centre of the story.

I decided the novel would be about teenhood in the face of the economic crisis. About what my best friend would’ve thought going to school during a time when jobs were scarce – how his pessimism, shown to be pragmatism in later years, would have looked now. But I also wanted to stay true to the short story, and would, making it about brotherhood and what that meant, focussing on its darker side, especially when compared to friendship, with its indelible bonds formed between friends during this magical time.

My friend doesn’t feature in The Goldfish and the Earthquake, but there are parts of him in a few characters, as there are parts of me. I met up with him nearly a decade after we’d moved apart, spoke to a man that still very much resembled the boy with whom I’d grown up, but a man to whom I couldn’t relate. One day I’ll send him the novel, and hope he’ll remember that time in our lives, before his pessimism had been made pragmatism and before I’d slept through an earthquake.



Saturday, 1 November 2014

Update!

Hi everyone!

Sorry I haven't posted anything in a while. I was really busy writing. But I have some news... I've finished writing my first novel! Yay! Well, it's only the first draft, but I'm really happy I managed to get this finished. It also means I'll be writing for NaNo this year. I'm really looking forward to that. I'll be revealing more about the novel I just finished in the next week, so stay tuned for that. 

I also made a Facebook page, if anyone wants to like that the link here: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Trisha-Harrington/810939892306664

Wednesday, 1 October 2014

Small Update!


Hey lads!


I haven't posted an update in a while, so I said I would take the time to do that now. Jesse and Noah are coming along really well. This manuscript is going a lot faster than I thought it would, which means I might be finished the first draft before Christmas (which is the deadline I sort of set for myself) and I'm really happy about that. I love writing their story and I'm super excited about sharing this story with everyone. Hopefully I'll have a blurb to share with everyone soon.

Friday, 19 September 2014

Lou Hoffmann Key of Behliseth Blog Tour - Excerpt and Giveaway!


Lou Hoffmann is here today to share an exclusive excerpt from her new YA novel, Key of Behlisheth!

Book Name: Key of Behliseth

Author Name: Lou Hoffmann

Author Bio: Lou Hoffmann, a mother and grandmother now, has carried on her love affair with books for more than half a century, and she hasn’t even made a dent in the list of books she’d love to read—partly because the list keeps growing as more and more fascinating tales are told in written form. She reads factual things—books about physics and stars and fractal chaos, but when she wants truth, she looks for it in quality fiction. Through all that time she’s written stories of her own, but she’s come to be a published author only as a johnnie-come-lately. Lou loves other kinds of beauty as well, including music and silence, laughter and tears, youth and age, sunshine and storms, forests and fields, rivers and seas. Proud to be a bisexual woman, she’s seen the world change and change back and change more in dozens of ways, and she has great hope for the freedom to love in the world the youth of today will create in the future.



Author Contact: You can find Lou on facebook at https://www.facebook.com/lou.hoffmann, or twitter @Lou_Hoffmann.

Cover Artist: Catt Ford

Publisher: Harmony Ink Press (Dreamspinner Press imprint)

Blurb(s):

On his way to meet a fate he'd rather avoid, homeless gay teen Lucky steps through a wizard's door and is caught up in a whirlwind quest and an ancient war. He tries to convince himself that his involvement with sword fights, magic, and interworld travel is a fluke, and that ice-breathing dragons and fire-breathing eagles don't really exist. But with each passing hour, he remembers more about who he is and where he's from, and with help, he begins to claim his power.


Lucky might someday rule a nation, but before he can do that, he must remember his true name, accept his destiny, and master his extraordinary abilities. Only then can he help to banish the evil that has invaded earth and find his way home—through a gateway to another world.



Excerpt:

Isa left her four Ethran servants to tend the boy until she could return and summoned her recent Earthborn recruits. She gathered them in the vast circular sanctum, the better to show them their insignificance, to inflame their need to serve the Demon Queen. She preferred dimness and shadow, but weaker, ordinary eyes needed light. With a dark word and a flick of thin, sharp fingers, she set a ring of torches burning behind them, blue and cold.
She stood tall in the center of the space, robed as always in blue. Acolytes surrounded her, all Earthborn and easily enslaved by magic. They numbered fifty-two, and huddled in kneeling quadrants of thirteen each. Not as many as she would have liked, but a fair number considering the limitations of time.
Mordred waited in the dark outside the circle, bearing a small stone dagger and a mirrored tray holding four large crystal goblets. Each cup contained a potion brewed of red elder, skullcap, bindweed, and rue. As Isa had taught him, Mordred had, in each cup, drowned a wolf spider and weighted it with moonstone and jet. The final ingredient, the one that would bind them to Mordred, and through him to her and to Mahl, would be added later, in ritual sacrifice. 
Having earlier cast a glamour to mellow her voice and visage, Isa lifted her draped arms and bade the supplicants raise their eyes. She began to speak, preaching with a rhythm and flow designed to mesmerize. As eyes glazed in the audience, she blended her words into Dark Chant, low and guttural, sending shadows into their hearts to bleed them of heat.
The last syllables of the spell echoed into the vastness of the sanctum. From the slaves, no sound, no movement.
“Mordred,” she called, and all heads turned to follow him as he came forward, placed the tray at her feet, and went to one knee. He turned the knife and offered it. She took it and then pulled him to his feet, raising his hand to present him to the gathering.
“Here is your captain,” she said. All bowed their heads, and a slow smile of satisfaction twisted Mordred’s face. His eyes glittered in anticipation of new power.
After a moment, Isa instructed the Earthborns to stand in their places. “As is proper, your captain will fortify you with his own strength, through his own sacrifice.
“Behold his gift.”
He knelt again before her, and she drew the knife three inches down each of his forearms, turning the knife to slide under the skin and increase the flow of blood. The smile didn’t leave his face. He uttered no sound. He held his arms over the tray and let his blood, dark with the taint of Mahl, fall into the cups drip by drip.
Quietly, Isa said, “Sufficient.”
Mordred stood, bearing the tray, and waited while she instructed the supplicants.
Isa had named a leader for each quadrant of thirteen, a person with some small portion of magic underlying their greed. To each of these four, while his tarnished blood still flowed down his arms, Mordred entrusted a crystal goblet. They did not drink first, but passed the cup each among their twelve.

When all the others had partaken, the leaders took the cups again and drank, draining every drop of potion until stone and spider fell upon their pallid lips, a sorcerer’s kiss.


Exclusive excerpt:

The house, floating in a sea of unkempt lawn, didn’t appear foreboding. It was large but loosely assembled, with one thing hooked to the next as if every room was an afterthought. And the skinny square tower poked up stories higher than the rest, looking ready to fall any minute.

The front door, on the other hand—a massive panel carved with unknown symbols, fitted with black iron hinges and a golden doorknob—did look foreboding. It no more fit on this decrepit house than the house fit in this posh neighborhood or than combat boots fit on an old man with gray sweats and weird clocks.

But there the door was, regardless, and if there was anything Lucky was sure of, standing there peeking through the juniper fronds, it was that he did not want to knock on it.

He stepped out from behind the juniper, no longer caring if he’d be seen by the people inside the house. With the hot sun beating on his shoulders, he stood staring at the door, wondering at it. Why would such a place exist? Why would he have been led to it?

Wednesday, 20 August 2014

Wrong Locker by Jackie Nacht Book Blast.


Book Name: Wrong Locker
Author Name: Jackie Nacht
Author Bio:
Short, sexy and sweet— where a little love goes a long way.
That’s the best way to describe Jackie Nacht’s stories. She was introduced to M/M Romance through her sister, Stephani, and read it for years. Then, she thought it was time to put her own stories on paper. Jackie began writing short and sweet stories that ended with a happily ever after.
Thinking back to her own book addiction, where there were many nights Jackie stayed up way too late so she could read just one more chapter— yeah, right— Jackie decided to write short romances for young adults as well as adults. Hopefully, they will give high school and college students, or working men and women something they can read during their lunch hour, in between classes or just when they want to briefly get away from the daily stresses of everyday life.

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Cover Artist: Zathyn Priest – Scarlet Tie Designs
Publisher: Featherweight Press
Blurb(s):
Sometimes the best way to turn your bad luck around, is reach out for the hand willing to help.

Sophomore Shaun Richards could not have any worse luck. The front office ended up placing his locker in the senior wing this year. A month into the year and it hasn't gotten any better. A group of seniors make it their mission to prove that he doesn't belong and gives him a hard time on a daily basis.

While eating lunch alone one day senior, Nash Wilder comes to sit with him. Shaun has had a crush on the senior all year and wonders what the heck the senior was doing sitting with the geeky underclassman?



Excerpt:
Wrong Locker by Jackie Nacht
EXCERPT:
I was in pure hell. As I stood in front of Northeastern High, I could already feel my body tremble in panic. I was barely able to swallow, my throat dry with fear. Scrubbing a hand over my face, I wiped away the stray beads of sweat that showcased my anxiety to everyone passing me by.

Why was I so afraid to walk through those double doors? Oh that's right. The front office had assigned me a locker in the senior hallway this year due to overcrowding. A sophomore in the senior wing? What in the world had they been thinking?

"You get up late, Shaun? Do you need me to start calling you in the morning again?" Wade adjusted his backpack as he came to stand next to me.

Wade was my only friend in school. We had grown up together and were tight as they came. He was protective of me and vice versa. He was also the only one I'd ever told I was gay, outside of my mom, even though I was teased ruthlessly by the jerks who just assumed. I wasn't hiding it, but it was no one's business either, so I didn't confirm or deny.

How could I tell Wade that every day I tried to be this late? That way I might avoid having to walk to my locker in a hall crowded full of jerks that made it their life's mission to put me through hell on a daily basis. If I came in late enough, I would only have to deal with a few stragglers as opposed to the whole gamut.

"No, I'm good, Wade." My voice quivered. I hated feeling this way.

We entered the school together, and Wade paused at the front of the sophomore wing, pursing his lips. "Do you want me to go with you?"

As much as I wanted to say yes, I knew these jerks would be horrible to Wade, and I wanted to protect my one and only friend. "Go on to your locker. We only have a few minutes to make it to class."

Walking away from Wade was a test of my courage. My whole body started to go on lockdown, ready to be verbally attacked, insulted and made to feel like a piece of chewing gum on the bottom of a shoe.

Putting my head down, I turned the corner, heading for my locker. I learned that if I didn't make eye contact with the seniors, usually they would ignore me. I prayed that this would be one of those days. Getting to my locker, my fingers trembled as I grabbed my lock. Sheesh, I couldn't even get the combination in I was shaking so badly. After screwing it up once, I had to try ‑­

spinning the combination out and trying again.

I took too long. The presence behind me confirmed that my day of hell was about to begin. Leaning my forehead against the cool locker, I didn't even bother to try opening it up as my breath quickened.

A fist slammed next to me, causing me to jump.

Blake was there, leaning against the locker next to me with two of his buddies standing next to him. I have no clue what I ever did to offend the guy, but he hated me with a passion and was the ringleader to a group of seniors that gave me hell on a daily basis.

"Why haven't you left yet? No one wants you here, fag." Blake all but sneered at me.

It was the same thing every day. A sophomore wasn't wanted in the wing, but it was more than that. This guy hated me. And I absolutely loathed being called a fag. That was just as bad as a slap to the face. Worse.

There was no point in responding. I'd tried the first couple times, explaining administration couldn't switch my locker and that the sophomore wing was on overflow to other wings. Heck, there were a few more sophomores in this wing too, but they didn't seem to have half as much trouble as I did. Of course, those sophomores were athletes.

Me, I was more on the small side, skinny as they came with stylish brown hair that I used to love but now seemed to be a beacon for these jerks.

"I don't want to see you anymore. I don't care how you do it, but I don't want you walking in this hallway again." Blake slammed the locker with his fist again. The three walked away, laughing and jeering at my humiliation.

I had hoped that it would get better, that these guys would get bored and leave me alone. Yeah, they hadn't physically hurt me, yet. I knew that it was only a matter of time. Things had escalated too quickly in the last month since I had started school.

The bell rang, and I groaned, knowing that I was going to get into trouble for another tardy. Some days it just didn't pay to wake up.

I ran all the way to my classroom and got a stern look from my Spanish teacher before sitting down in my assigned seat. This was the best part of my day. While one group of seniors were jerks, they weren't all bad. Spanish was an elective that students were required to take two years of. Most waited until the last two years but I knew that I wanted to minor it in college so I wanted to have four years of languages.

This period, I got to stare at the back of the football co-captain, Nash Wilder. The man was gorgeous with sun-streaked light brown hair that had a short messy style to it. He was filled out ‑­

with muscles that I would forever lack and a tan I wish I could achieve. However, in my paleness, all I could hope for was a third degree burn. The man was handsome and unattainable. It seemed every girl dreamed he would ask them out, but the guy remained oblivious, concentrating on sports and school.

Glancing up at the dry erase board, I began doing my silent work of conjugating verbs and putting them into sentences. The tension in my body was still there from my earlier confrontation, but a small amount slipped away, knowing that I would have at least a small reprieve.

I was just about finished when Nash turned and stared at me. I glanced up from my paperwork into his puppy dog chocolate-brown eyes, surrounded by long dark eyelashes.

My jaw threatened to drop as he just scrutinized me. What was he thinking? Did I have something on my face? Oh God I did, didn't I?

"You okay, Shaun?" Nash whispered, doing a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure the teacher wasn't looking.

Nash knew my name? He freakin' knew my name. I didn't think anybody as popular as him would ever notice someone like me, unpopular and not an athletic bone in my body. He also sounded concerned. About me?

"I'm fine," I croaked out.

Someone in Nash's social stratosphere didn't want to hear about all my problems. Probably would bore the guy to death.

Nash stared at me for a moment more before he went back to his work. I blew out a breath with relief that I didn't have to discuss the jerks that constantly harassed me. How embarrassing would it be to admit to Nash the extent of my struggles, while crowded hallways seemed to simply part for him as he strolled along?

Rolling my pencil between my fingers, I frowned down at my work. This year was going to be so long for me. How was I ever going to be able to get through it? Sighing, I decided to try not to think about it as I got back to my work. Maybe in time I would have an answer, but right then, all I wanted was to survive the day.


Tour Dates: 8/20/14

Posting on 8/21/14:

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