Search Results for: the wrong words

LASR Anniversary Scavenger Hunt: Dixie Jackson

Thanks for joining us on our 17th anniversary scavenger hunt! There are two ways to enter to win and it’s easy to play– first read the blurb below, then answer the question on the first Rafflecopter. You might win a $100 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC (along with other prizes). Follow and visit authors’ social media pages on the second Rafflecopter and you’re entered to win another $100 Amazon/BN GC (along with other prizes)!

Six years later, Trent Wayland still isn’t over his spring fling. Probably because he was convinced when he married Captain Leila O’Neil, their fling would go on a lifetime. Leila is his soul mate and Trent knows it. He might not admit it on a regular basis, but that doesn’t negate the raw emotion she draws out of him each and every time he thinks about her. Forget the fact his heart splits in two all over again when he’s afforded the luxury of hearing her voice. That doesn’t happen often, however. Leila only tosses a handful of words his way when she initiates the weekly video calls he’s allowed with the other love of his life, their daughter Lucy.

Once upon a time, Leila O’Neil wanted to be a Marine when she grew up. She worked hard, she landed a seat at the Academy, and she was the head of her class. Then her dream was destroyed and she traded it in for a new one at the nearest Coterie portal. She wears so many faces and so many hats, at some point she lost track of her soul. That didn’t really bother her until Trent Wayland came along and almost peeled her dressing room curtain back nearly exposing her innermost person. The real person, the real Leila, who once upon a time wanted to be a Marine when she grew up. Leila misses the real person, and realizes it at the worst possible moment. With her daughter’s life on the line and Trent on the scene of the crime, Leila figures out she’s been using her hurt and anger to fuel all the wrong goals. In a daring move, she puts it all on the line, hoping it’s enough to gain her freedom from her handlers and her husband’s forgiveness.

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What Would I Tell a New Author? by Shelly Campbell – Guest Blog and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. The author will be awarding a $15 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

What Would I Tell a New Author?
Thanks so much for having me as a guest on Long and Short Reviews!

Being an author is a mercurial thing. You live in a state of flux. When you’re drafting, it’s singular work, just you, the characters in your head, and that blank page itching for you to fill it with words. Yet when editing time comes, your story transforms into a collaborative effort with back and forth feedback between you and your editors.

If you are querying, publishing often feels like a never-ending loop of hurry-up and wait, but if you’re on a deadline, it’s just hurry up.

You will have positive feedback that lifts you up like few things can, and one-star reviews that bring you right back down to earth again.

There’ll be the highs of cover reveals, release days, and book-signings, but also the doldrums that inevitably come after.

Some days the words flow like rapids and others, you’re stuck in the swamp of writer’s block. First drafts that read like hot garbage. Polished manuscripts that just sing.

I guess what I’m saying to new authors out there is that this is a rollercoaster ride, so hang onto something. Better yet, hang on to someone, multiple someone’s—preferably other authors who are marathon riders. Because it is a marathon.

Your book might not catapult out of the gate. Mine haven’t. They’re all on that slow clackity sort of climb. And that’s okay. My stories will find readers who’ll cherish them, all in good time. Yours will to. And whatever part of the rollercoaster ride your on, I’d love to grab hold of your hand and scream along with you. Just don’t puke on my shoes, okay?

When we were children, they told us monsters weren’t real. They were dead wrong.

It’s just a closet door with a skeleton key, but when David opens it, he unlocks a gateway to a sinister world that’s bent on destroying everything and everyone he loves. Some doors are better left closed.

Embark on a thrilling journey with the Dark Walker Series, and be transported into an interdimensional tale of monsters, lies and self-discovery. Where the terror of darkness is real and the line between ally and enemy is as thin as a blade.

“Equal parts coming of age story and otherworldly horror, Gulf probes the depths of loneliness, loss of identity and childhood trauma. It is a true treat for fans of the genre and had me clutched in its razor-clawed hands from the first word to the last.” -C.M. Forest author of Infested

*****

Seventeen-year-old David is fading from his world, like a Polaroid picture in reverse. He longs to feel connected to something bigger.

When his brothers discover the new extension at the rental cottage comes with a locked door, David finds the key first. Expecting to claim a bedroom, he opens a dimensional gateway instead, exploring abandoned versions of his world in different timelines, 1960s muscle cars alternating with crumbling cottages.

Except now the dimensional bridge won’t close, and something hungry claws the door at night. David scours for clues to break the bridge, but each trip to the other side makes him fade more on his. Even if he succeeds, he risks severing his connection to his own world, and dying on the wrong side, forgotten.

*****

There are doors that open to other worlds, but it’s no fairytale on the other side.

I thought otherworldly monsters bent on devouring my whole world starting with my family trumped everything. Turns out, I was wrong. My world’s only one of thousands facing annihilation from the maneaters that tried to eat me alive. Charlie saved me, rolled into my life on a motorcycle, and rescued me.

Problem is, I’m the Embassy’s property now. They’re the interdimensional agency tasked with stemming the flow of ravenous aliens into our universe, but they seem more interested in studying me. I crashed a gateway in a way they’ve never seen. The Embassy wants to replicate that. I think they want to use me as a war weapon.

If I don’t convince Charlie to help me escape, I’ll be an Embassy science experiment for the rest of my short life, or worse, eternally trapped in the dark hell that fills the spaces between worlds.

Enjoy an Excerpt from GULF

Certain my family is gone, I cross to the five-panel in two strides, twist the key into the lock, and push the door.

It doesn’t open.

Of course it doesn’t, idiot. It’s still hung like a closet door. It opens out, not in.

I pull.

Mirror.

That’s the first thought that strikes me as I take in the exact duplicate of the living room I’m standing in. Same green, crushed velvet sofa bed sagging behind me. Identical chipped melamine cabinets. Same painted windmills on the porcelain tile backsplash—wait.

No me.

No reflection of me. Tentative as Alice in bloody Wonderland, I pull the black skeleton key from its hole and crane my head through the doorway. No dirty breakfast dishes, but when I look over my shoulder, there’s still stacks of egg-yolk spackled tin plates beside our sink. Crumpled under one arm of the hide-a-bed is my plaid blanket, but the one in front of me is empty. Looks dusty.

“What the hell, Everett?” This is creepy.

The ole bugger’s built an exact mirror image of the room next door. Where on earth did he find the twin to that green monster of a couch? There’s even a spring beckoning through the same spot in the back cushion.

Got an eye for detail, hasn’t he?

Same woodstove too, only this one has a cold, crusty frying pan on it. I can still feel the heat on my back from ours across the wall.

The pine planking creaks under my next step, and I jump and then smile, but I’m pretty sure it ends up as a snarl. An odd feeling consumes me whole, the one I had just before Sam Ren and his gorilla wingmen beat the piss out of me behind the Dairy Queen. A curdled sense of approaching doom slithers through my lungs.

Get out.

Primal instinct presses me back a step toward the door, but I hold fast there, like a dumbass, like I waited while Sam Ren eased toward me in the Dairy Queen parking lot.

Shaking out my hands and hissing through my teeth, I scan the room trying to identify what’s wrong, because something is. Something is very wrong, and it’s not just the duplicate room, or the draft emanating from here at night. It takes a few seconds to pin it down. The out-of-place thing. My throat spasms when I see it. I swallow and shift to the balls of my feet.

“Window,” I whisper.

About the Author: At a young age, Shelly Campbell wanted to be an air show pilot or a pirate, possibly a dragon and definitely a writer and artist. She’s piloted a Cessna 172 through spins and stalls, and sailed up the east coast on a tall ship barque—mostly without projectile vomiting. In the end, Shelly found writing and drawing dragons to be so much easier on the stomach. Shelly writes speculative fiction ranging from grimdark fantasy, to sci-fi and horror. She’d love to hear from you.

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Gulf and Breach are both available to read for free on Kindles Unlimited.

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Waiting For Spring by Sonya Rhen


Waiting For Spring by Sonya Rhen
Jelly Beans and Spring Things Series
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Genre: Romance, Contemporary
Rating: 5 Stars
Reviewed by Astilbe

Voted BoM by LASR Readers 2013 copy

Returning to belly dance at the annual Kirkland Crocus Parade with the Habibi Nile Dancers, Shayna vows to forget her breakup after last year’s parade and guard her fragile heart. However, her best friend is just as determined to find her a new love interest. Shayna would rather not think about matters of the heart and just concentrate on entertaining the spectators by dancing with her dignity intact. Which is harder than she thought. As the parade participants march on through Kirkland’s quaint downtown streets, the Easter Bunny, her fearless leader, her best friend, an eye-catching drummer, and a jelly-bean-tossing clown, might give Shayna a reason to open her heart…after all, spring is in the air!

Love is everywhere.

There are so many little details that go into organizing even one section of a parade, much less the whole event. I was not expecting the narrator to discuss such matters, but I’m glad she did. It taught me some new vocabulary words and gave me a sneak peek into something I’ve never done. This was also a nice way to get to know the main character better, from her occasional absent-mindedness while preparing for this big day to the exuberant joy she felt while dancing in the Kirkland Crocus Parade.

The chemistry between Shayla and her possible match made my heart flutter. Obviously, parades aren’t exactly the ideal setting for small talk, but there are plenty of nonverbal ways to communicate one’s intentions instead. I enjoyed seeing how many of them the author used in order to build tension and make this reader curious to find out what would happen next.

What a nice ending this short story had! It wrapped up the most important storyline but also left plenty of space for interpretation or even for a possible sequel if Ms. Rhen decides to write one. I must admit that I wondered how she was possibly going to resolve everything when I first began reading. Some of Shayla’s problems felt a little too big for a piece of this size, so it was wonderful to be proven wrong about that.

Waiting For Spring felt like a hug from a new friend. It was so warm and delightful.

Character Interview: Max Heaton by Maria Imbalzano – Guest Post and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Maria Imbalzano will be awarding a $15 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Character Interview: Max Heaton

Tell us a bit about “Island Detour.”

This is the story of what happened when Sophie Kearns showed up at the Sunrise Island School, where I’ve worked for the past two years. I’m the marine biology teacher at this semester-away school for high school students. But I have higher aspirations. I want to start an environmental research institute at the school. I was just trying to convince the Director of the School, Andy, about the merits of such an institute when Sophie arrived. I knew something was off. She was a Princeton prep school English teacher who didn’t know the difference between a kayak and a rowboat. She couldn’t swim, snorkel, fish or camp—just some of the required activities for teachers at the school. There was no reason for her to be here teaching English for a semester. And her flimsy excuse that she needed a break before becoming the chair of the English Department at her northeastern prep school made no sense. When I learned she ran a Summer Teaching Academy for teachers, I feared that Andy brought her here to convince her to move her Academy to his school. That would be the end of my research institute. Needless to say, Sophie and I did not hit it off. Probably my fault.

What did you think the first time you saw Sophie?

I picked her up at the airport, since Andy was busy. She had on some gray, conservative pants with a white button-down blouse and she was as pale as the clouds in the sky. She looked even paler when I told her about all the outdoor activities she’d be expected to do along with teaching English. I tried to get her to admit why she was here, but she kept to her script about needing a break. So I ignored her the rest of the ride and dumped her off at Andy’s office.

What happened during your next encounter?

The next time I saw Sophie was in the dining hall at dinner that night. All the other teachers were friendly and kind, and she was probably feeling pretty good about that. But when she told them she didn’t know how to kayak, scuba dive, or camp I called her a prima donna. Of course she said she wasn’t and spouted off about all her degrees and awards. But I told her they wouldn’t help pull her weight around here. After a few more heated exchanges, I left. I needed to walk the beach for a while to try and figure out what she and Andy were up to.

So it wasn’t love at first sight?

Most definitely not!

I assume you came around eventually. What do you like most about her?

It took a while to get to know Sophie. Mostly because of my stubbornness. But she is an amazing English teacher who engages so easily with the students. They even stop her after class to continue a conversation they’d started during class. What teenaged kid does that? She also likes to work collaboratively. She shared so many ideas with me about how to get my research institute off the ground. She’s selfless like that. She’s also determined. Every morning at seven she goes kayaking with Kristin and after school she practices her swimming. One day, she was assigned to go fishing with me and Ben. Of course, she had never fished before and I gave her a hard time, making her bait her own hook and take the fish off that she caught. That was a bit of a difficult day. We had some words… I’ll just leave it at that.

How would she describe you?

A loner, probably. Arrogant. Stubborn. Controlling. But once she got to know me, I think she would say that I’m driven, persistent. I have to be if I want to start my environmental research institute. She’d agree that I’m an excellent teacher, always spending extra time with the kids doing experiments or camping or taking them on kayak trips through the mangroves.

What made you choose teaching for a career?

I didn’t start out wanting to be a teacher. I’m really a researcher. I have a joint masters and doctorate degree in Oceanography and Applied Ocean Science and Engineering. I worked at Woods Hole Oceanographic Institute for a while, but I was supposed to be doing that with my brother, and he’s no longer with us. I wasn’t happy there without him. When I heard about the Sunrise Island School, I checked it out, and found my calling.

What is your biggest fear?

Not being able to protect the people I care about.

How do you relax?

I go out on the water every morning—either in a rowboat or kayak. I love that it’s so peaceful out there. I can think—or not. And the early morning exercise is a great way to start my day. I also like to walk on the beach at sunset. The colors of the sky are so vibrant, especially after the sun sinks below the horizon.

What’s the best piece of advice you ever received?

Interestingly, it happens to be from Sophie. She taught me the value of working with others to achieve my goals instead of trying to control everything on my own.

Falsely accused of wrongdoing at a Princeton Prep school, Sophie Kearns accepts a temporary teaching position at an environmental school in the Florida Keys to wait out her suspension. The time away is meant to be an anxiety-free escape, but her clashes with the hot but arrogant marine biology teacher, Max Heaton, are anything but tranquil.

Max is determined to start an environmental research institute at the school, but he suspects the gorgeous new Lit teacher, who lacks even the most basic outdoor skills, is there to hinder that dream. Yet, something about her tames the demons from his past, and he can no longer ignore the fire she’s lit inside him.

Enjoy an Excerpt

How’d Sophie end up working with women who could have been in the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue?

She glanced down at her own one-piece halter and smoothed out an imaginary wrinkle. Not ready to venture back to the bikinis of her college days, she’d chosen a lime-green hue that looked great against her tan. And even though her midriff wasn’t bare, the high-cut detail on her legs showed plenty of skin. At least she wasn’t embarrassed standing next to Maddie. Or the other two.

She’d come a long way from the buttoned-up professor at Valen, thanks to her new friends here. After their shopping spree in Key West, they’d made sure to compliment Sophie on her new look—obviously afraid that if they didn’t, she’d go back to her old ways. And it had worked. Along with the exercise she was getting from boating and swimming, she looked and felt like a new woman.

Stealing a glance at Max, she assumed he’d be staring at Maddie. A slow burn crept across her face when his gaze fell on her.

His mocha eyes blazed a scorching trail as they traveled up her legs, her torso, then stopped at her face. She turned and looked out over the ocean, swallowing hard, to banish this erotic discomfort. But try as she might to ignore his scrutiny, she felt it deep down in the pit of her stomach as fingers of heat spread over her skin, doing much more damage than the sun.

About the Author: Maria Imbalzano is an award-winning contemporary author who writes about strong, independent women and the men who fall in love with them. She recently retired from the practice of law, but legal issues have a way of showing up in many of her novels. When not writing, she loves to travel both abroad and in the states. Maria lives in central New Jersey with her husband–not far from her two daughters and granddaughters. For more information about her books, please visit her website at http://mariaimbalzano.com where you can also sign up for her newsletter.

Maria is a member of New Jersey Romance Writers and has received many honors and awards for her work including the ACRA Readers’ Choice Heart of Excellence Award, the Wisconsin Romance Writers Write Touch Readers Award, The NEST (National Excellence In Story Telling) Award, the Carolyn Award, Book Buyers Best Award, The Stiletto Reader’s Choice Award, Long & Short Reviews Book of the Month Award (3rd Place for Book of the Year), and Still Moments Magazine Reader’s Choice Award.

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Lessons I’ve Learned from my Main Character by Phoenix Blackwood – Guest Blog and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Phoenix Blackwood will award a $10 Amazon/BN gift card to a randomly drawn winner. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Lessons I’ve Learned from My Main Character

There are a few lessons I learned from Phee, the main character of The Family that Finds Us. She’s a complex character, one with a unique voice and a lot of different things feeding into how she perceives the world. She has a great family – one that’s found and born out of companionship rather than blood. Her birth mother is challenging to say the least, and a very complex relationship throughout the book.

The first lesson that set in from her experience, was that no matter what way you get there, it’s okay to be yourself no matter how much you’ve struggled with it. I’m speaking specifically in her queer identity – I hear a lot of older trans people talk about how frustrated they are that they didn’t transition until later in life, that they spent so long denying themselves when they knew it from an early age. No matter how you get there, there’s nothing wrong with it. Phee spends a lot of time fighting with herself, and didn’t even realize things until the world was opened up to her. It’s okay to not be ready. It’s okay to need to stay closeted for a while. There’s nothing wrong with you, there’s nothing wrong with needing time. This world is harsh, especially towards trans people. Sometimes, we have to prepare ourselves for what life will be like if we decide to transition, all the pros and cons. Being trans isn’t a choice, but transitioning is. It’s an option there and one that holds wonderful benefits for those who experience gender dysphoria, but we have to be ready for what the world will throw at us if we do. I denied my queer identity for a very long time and often felt that frustration with myself, but in writing Phee I learned that sometimes we need to hold more patience for ourselves in such a difficult position.

The second lesson I learned from Phee was that it’s okay to push back when people hurt you. You don’t have to forgive and forget, especially not right away. There’s a few scenes where she openly shows disdain for her mother and really feels badly for it, because it’s her mother. The truth is, that it’s okay to let people know when they’ve hurt us. If they react badly to being told that something they’ve done is hurtful, then it’s a lot more telling about them than it is about you. Standing up for yourself is difficult, and you should be praised for it rather than punished. If the reaction is to punish, then that person isn’t one you want to keep in your life. It doesn’t matter if the person is family, a friend you’ve had for years, or someone you view as important. If they’re not willing to hear that they’ve hurt you and take ownership of it, then they’re the one in the wrong.

There are many more lessons she taught me, but these two are the biggest.

Phee hides her secrets well, until they become too much to bear. Her biggest secret is one she’s kept even from herself. Her longest-kept secret is one that hurts her every day. Her final secret is one that will set her free.

In a school that doesn’t accept them, Phee, Theo, and Alex fight for a community close to their hearts. The community desperately needs the trio to help the rest of them leave the shadows without fear of violence and discrimination. Through some heroic activism, the three push the school officials to their limits — forcing them to act — for better or worse.

For Phee, the fight for a place where she can be herself doesn’t stop when she gets home. The strain of taking care of her alcoholic and abusive mother threatens to break Phee away from her family bond forever. Her mother can go from a messy drunk to an angry one in an instant, turning Phee’s home life from an obligation to a war zone.

Theo’s house offers respite to Phee. With compassion scarce in her life, Alex and Theo are Phee’s light in the dark. They protect and cherish her. At Theo’s, Phee is free to be herself and explore her identity safely — her chosen family ready to catch her if she falls. That’s what family does, how family finds us when we feel lost and alone.

Enjoy an Excerpt

“Thank you, my preciou-ous-es son.” She slurred her words as she spoke into the table, and I sighed inaudibly.

At least she wasn’t angry-drunk. This was the drunk I could handle, the drunk I knew how to care for. I’d been doing it half my life, it would be strange if I weren’t good at it by now. I finished the dishes and laid them out on the drying rack after wiping them dry with a kitchen towel, then sat down in the chair next to her at the table.

“Do you need anything, mom? Have you eaten? Drank anything?”

“Mmno.” She rolled her face to look at me, her deep dark eyes glistening but not completely there.

I got a plastic cup from the cupboard and filled it with some ice water and handed it to her. Her hands shook as she tried to lift the cup from mine, so I helped her guide it to her mouth and take a couple sips, then set it back down on the table in front of her. I rummaged through the fridge to pull out some milk and went to the pantry for some cereal. Only, as lifted the milk to pour, I felt objects hit the side of the carton. I opened the cap to take a whiff and gagged; the milk was sour. Sighing, I dropped the carton into the trash and opened the barren fridge to search for another option.

About the Author Born and raised in New England, Phoenix has always been a creative – whether it’s painting or writing. From a very young age, Phoenix has envisioned and created characters, writing them into existence and exploring them through visual arts. Having graduated to first-time short story author, Phoenix is embarking on a journey towards novel writing as they finally bring characters they’ve known for years into the world. Phoenix is neurodiverse and intersex and hopes to bring more representation to both topics with their writing. They believe in creating relatable characters that people can find themselves in and empathize with.

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When to Break the Rules by Benoit Lanteigne – Guest Blog and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. One randomly chosen winner via rafflecopter will win a $25 Amazon/BN.com gift card. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

When to Break the Rules

These days, there are a lot of writing rules and I don’t just mean grammar. Stick around the writing community, and you’ll get a ton of info about what you should do and what you should never do. That’s fine, but when I started writing, I struggled with the idea of writing rules. If every author follows the same rule, won’t we all end up “sounding” the same? Doesn’t it go against originality? The answer I’ve come up with is no, but kind of. Keep in mind, I never said it was a good answer.

Over time, I concluded that following common guidelines doesn’t strip away your voice. Everyone is different. Even if two writers follow similar rules and structures, that doesn’t mean their writing styles will be the same. Sure, they might become more similar on the surface, but their unique perspective and personality should still shine through.

What about originality? Perhaps it doesn’t matter. Everything has been done, so why bother trying to be original, anyway? There’s some truth there, but I think that even if your work can’t be completely original, you can at least make your reader feel like it is through excellent execution and a good dose of cleverness.

So, if originality matters, doesn’t following rules stifle it? In a way, yes. Take the three-arc structure, for instance. It’s everywhere, to the point where if your story doesn’t follow a three-act structure, that could be considered a risk. Frankly, it makes movies in particular more predictable, or at least I feel it does for me. But, there’s a reason why it’s so common: it’s super effective while being easy enough to learn. Besides, there’s more to a story than the structure, so you can inject originality in another way. Sometimes restriction can increase creativity by anchoring it within limits. When creativity is left free without boundaries, you can get overwhelmed with possibilities and never produce anything of value.

All right then, problem solved! Rules work and don’t harm originality, so just follow them without asking questions! Well, there’s a flaw in that line of thinking, unfortunately. Following common writing rules will help you create a story that people will enjoy. It’s making things easier and less risky by using the path others forged before you. There’s nothing wrong with that, especially if you are a new writer feeling overwhelmed. However, in that case, you must accept that while your book will be more likely to be good, it won’t be a groundbreaking revelation. If you wish to create a revered masterpiece, you’ll need to take risks, and that means breaking the rules. By doing so, you might become a trendsetter and create new potential rules of your own.

So, should you just ignore the rules? Well, no. To break a rule effectively, you need to know the rules first. Knowing them isn’t enough, you must understand them so you can judge where and when you should diverge from the common path. This can only come from experience. For this reason, my advice is to follow the rules in the beginning. Get familiar with them. See why they work. Then, once they are familiar enough and you are skilled enough, identify the spots where breaking them might be effective and try it.

There’s one more thing I’d like to say on the subject. I’m not the only writer who questioned the validity of rules. Often I see people complaining about writing rules; expressing how they dislike them, or even outright hate them. I think it’s because there are writers out there who push the so-called rules as an absolute truth. They’re not. The rules aren’t the word of God. They’re just training wheels to help you get on your way. I feel they shouldn’t be called rules at all. To me, a better word would be guidelines or maybe suggestions. They’re not mandatory laws that must be obeyed. They’re guidelines that often work well, but you don’t have to follow them. If the concept of writing rules was explained this way more often, I think maybe, just maybe, there’d be fewer writers who are so frustrated with them.

Want proof that writing rules shouldn’t be taken too seriously? Well, how about this? I’m in a book club where we read plenty of books that have been published recently. Most sold well, or were at least critically acclaimed. We read a large variety of books, but they all have one thing in common. They all break the rules. Sometimes they tell instead of showing. Sometimes they use passive voice. Sometimes they have long, complex sentences that are hard to read. Sometimes they use vague words. And so on. If the rules were mandatory, these books wouldn’t have been well received by critics. They couldn’t have been, because they wouldn’t have been published.

How did it come to this? My life used to be so simple. Back then, I hated it; I found it boring. Let me tell you: boring’s good. Boring’s great! I should’ve been thankful…

It was supposed to be a date like any other for James Hunter, a simple convenience store clerk. Nothing more than watching a movie in the town of Moncton. A place as unknown and unimportant as he considered his own existence to be. And yet, while walking to a cinema, James teleports to another world. There, a hostile crowd surrounds him, including various mutants with strange deformities.

Before he can even gather his wits or make a dash for it, a lone ally presents herself in the form of a winged woman named Rose. An important cultural figure in the country where James appeared, she offers him both protection and a home.

Soon, James learns that this new world is divided by a cold war. On one side is Nirnivia, home to Rose. The other, Ostark, led by a mysterious cyborg. James is unaware that the cyborg has him in his crosshairs, thinking of him as the Deus Ex Machina that will end the war in his favor.

But, the cyborg is far from the only potential threat to James. Soon after his arrival, BRR, a terrorist organisation, kidnaps him.

What would a rogue group out for revenge seeking to turn the cold war hot want with someone like James? Is there anyone also aware of this other world who will try to find him? Or is he on his own? If so, how is he supposed to escape? If that’s even an option…

Enjoy an Excerpt

The second that James saw the deformed statue, he deemed it painful to look at. The sculpture depicted a man, but not one of normal proportions. The arms were far too long, paired with short legs, and the right eye appeared thrice the size of the left—nothing compared to the elongated spike forming the nose, or the mouth contorted in a grimace. Now that he sat leaning against the grotesque shape, the figurative ache turned literal as the sharp stone dug into his back.

Even with the intense heat, James shivered. The recent revelations chilled his blood, and no matter how hard it tried, the sun couldn’t warm him again. He rubbed his chin, pondering all he had learned. His hand brushed against his stubble, and he scowled at the itching sensation. Usually he shaved every day, a habit his unplanned trip had broken. Then again, next to his companion, a bit of extra hair was nothing…

The freak still stood a few feet behind, laughing to his heart’s content. What a horrendous chortle. How James yearned to shut him up via his fist. “Gwa ha ah aha ha! Ha ha aha! Ha ha! Come on, why do you take things so seriously? You still don’t get it, do you? Gwha ha ha ha ha! You should laugh more; it’ll do ya good! Gwha ha ha ha ha! Wha ha ha ha! Gwa ha ha!”

About the Author So, my name is Benoit Lanteigne and I’m a French Canadian (outside of Quebec) who’s trying to write in English. That can be tricky. I’m a computer programmer and I enjoy it. I see many inspiring writers who hate their jobs and hope to quit someday, but that’s not my case. Mostly, I’ve worked on websites and web applications.

Back in school, I enjoyed writing and according to my teachers and classmates; I had a talent for it. Well, not so much for grammar and spelling, but they liked my stories. Once I went to university, I dropped writing as a hobby. There were other things I wanted to focus on, such as my career. Then, in the early 2000s, around 2006 I’d say, I had a flash of inspiration. At first, it was a single character: a winged woman with red hair. I didn’t even know who she was, but the image stuck with me. From there, I began figuring out details about her origins and her world, but I only started writing for real in 2009.

It’s been roughly 10 years now, and it’s not yet finished. That’s in part because I write in my spare time, and in part because the scope of the project is huge. Maybe too much so. Still, I’m getting close to the point where I could release something. The question is what’s next? Self-publishing? Attempt traditional publishing? Nothing? I don’t know the answer yet, I’m trying to figure it out. Frankly, sharing my writing is difficult for me, and whatever I end up doing, as long as I make it available to people I consider the experience a victory no matter what comes out of it.

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The Spinster, the Rebel, and the Governor by Charlene Bell Dietz – Spotlight and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. The author will award a randomly chosen winner a $25 Amazon/BN gift card. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

Move over Susan B. Anthony. There’s an unsung woman asking for the vote 224 years before you, and murderous rebels and bigoted gentlemen can’t prevent spinster Lady Margaret Brent from wielding her power to defend Maryland settlers from plunder and obliteration.

Lady Margaret Brent, compelled to right wrongs, risks her life by illegally educating English women, placing her family at risk. She fights to have a voice, yet her father and brothers exclude her from discussions. Worried the kings’ men may know of her illegal activities, she flees to the New World where she can enjoy religious tolerance and own land, believing she will be allowed a voice. Once in Maryland, she presents cases in provincial court where she’s hired as the first American woman attorney, but there she uncovers perilous actions, prompting her to build a fort to shield those within from being murdered. Can Margaret Brent’s integrity and ingenuity protect Maryland from being destroyed?

Enjoy an Excerpt

The Wells girl covered her eyes with both hands. Margaret, ignoring the buzzing of flies and the damp heat of the morning sun, worked to untangle the girl’s words in her mind.

“If the river doesn’t take me, then I shall have my baby alone and will have to live with Master Cole, and I shall never see my dear Tom again.” With that, she burst into tears.

“You do not look like you are about to have a baby. Why do you say your time is up?”

“Master Cole brought me here four years ago. He said after I had worked for him for four years, I wouldn’t owe him a tad more, and now he says I can’t leave, and so I might as well marry him. Lady Brent. I worked hard from early morning until after dark every day, and my time is up. Even the devil would say this isn’t right.” She sniffed and looked away.

Margaret set her jaw. “Heaven help us if other masters here in Maryland treat their servants in this manner.”

“There’s nothing I can do.” She bit her lip. “I thought maybe the next time you talked with Governor Calvert you might say something on my behalf, and I pray my request is not one of cheekiness.”

“Mary.” Margaret called sharply across to the soap making group. “Would you please come here?”

When Mary finished saying something, she trotted over to the garden. “Hello, Carrie. Are you not feeling well—your face seems flushed?”

“So, you are acquainted with Carrie Wells?” Margaret studied her sister, slipped the basket from Carrie, and moved it into Mary’s hands. “She brought these for us and herbs to scent your soap.”

“Sometimes on Sundays after church Carrie walks with me in the woods and shows me barks, roots, and herbs that heal.” She glanced at the basket. “Why, these are lovely.” She glanced at the young woman, then put her hand on Carrie’s arm. “Are you still having trouble with Jacob Cole?”

“Jacob Cole is about to have troubles with her. Has Giles returned from Kent for Assembly today? Will both our brothers be at the meeting?” Margaret’s frogs roiled inside her.

How dare these men take advantage of their servants?

“I saw him and Fulke along with some other men heading to Lewger’s home earlier.”

“Come, Carrie Wells. We shall also attend Assembly.”

“But—Margaret,” Mary grabbed her arm. “Certainly, women would not be allowed—”

Margaret shrugged Mary away, snatched Carrie Wells by her hand, and stomped off down the path.

“Sister,” Mary called after her, “you must take off that filthy apron. You’re covered in soil.”

Margaret jerked it untied and slung it. “There is a difference between God’s soil and men’s dirt. Carrie Wells and I are about to sort this very thing out with all those fine gentlemen of Assembly.”

About the Author: Charlene Bell Dietz lives in the central mountains of New Mexico. She taught kindergarten through high school, served as a school administrator, and an adjunct instructor for the College of Santa Fe. After retirement she traveled the United States providing instruction for school staff and administrators. Her writing includes published articles, children’s stories, short stories, and mystery and historical novels.

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What Scares Me the Most as an Author by Traci Wooden-Carlisle – Guest Blog and Giveaway

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Traci Wooden-Carlisle and D. Tina Batten will be awarding $25 Amazon or Barnes and Noble GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

What Scares Me the Most as an Author
As an author, what scares me the most is taking full responsibility for my work and not being able to piece one thought with another to finish a message.

Let me explain.

I consider my writing a ministry. I see it as a collaboration between me and God where He gives me a message to express through my characters or a way to express a subject with a different perspective, and it is my job to listen to Him while guiding the character’s dialogue or interaction to relay that message in the story.

If I deviate or start filling in pieces just because I think they should be there, then I will have to take full responsibility for the message that is conveyed. That burden is too heavy because I am too afraid of getting the message wrong.

As long as I deliver God’s message as He intends, I’m okay with both good or not-so-good reviews. When readers share their feelings, thoughts and yearning to draw closer to God when reading my books, it makes it all worth it.

I began to have problems with my sight when I was six and it took a couple of years before I was properly diagnosed. In the meantime, I went through private tutoring in phonics, reading comprehension and grammar because my parents believed I had a reading, not seeing problem. I ended up reading at the 9th grade level in the 3rd grade and became a voracious reader. When I couldn’t read, I would write myself stories and have done so since I was eight. I absolutely love my imagination and the ability to find the right word to relay what I see in my imagination. I love the stories and thoughts I am able to piece together from one idea. I would truly feel like I have lost a huge part of me if I could no longer take one idea and weave it into a story.

The first novel I published started with me writing a story to myself. It wasn’t until I reached the seventh chapter that I realized that I might have to share it with others.

There is a thin line between the natural and the spiritual realm.

Ms. V., a humble servant of the Lord, has been placed on assignment at Center of Hope Christian Academy.

By day, she serves as a trusted counselor for students, giving them a safe haven to pour out their innermost feelings while providing professional and honest truth wrapped in a firm kindness and love that inevitably draws them closer to Jesus. Not to be outdone, the faculty also bends her ear from time to time.

By night, Ms. V. enters the spiritual realm and takes her place on the battlefield as one of God’s faithful prayer warriors. She wields her whispering sword, slicing through the enemy’s plans to bind the precious hearts under her charge.

Her assignment’s burden on her physical body is taxing, but can she withstand the strain and remain victorious?

Saving souls is her true mission, but at what cost?

Readers are in for a journey of spiritual intrigue and biblical insight as they experience the ramifications of each character’s life-altering decision.

Enjoy an Excerpt

The mist settling over the earth was about five inches high. It nearly obscured the ground in front of her as far as her eyes could see. She was reminded of mud-covered battlefields with little to shield one from enemy fire.

The clouds hung low, making the whole scene look like something out of an apocalyptic dream. The fallow ground before her was vast. It was a wasteland, offering only the promise that nothing would ever grow there again. The desolation could have gone on forever, except for the demonic presence that lined itself up like a dirty barrier of windows used to dim and conceal what was on the other side.

She felt them, though. She felt each and every one of the children held in bondage on the other side of that transparent demonic force. The thought brought to mind a scripture, and she looked down at the writing on the sword in her hand. She could have spent time thinking about how odd it was that she didn’t remember taking a sword with her, but there were more pressing matters, and she was happy to have the weapon to wield.

She began reading the inscribed scripture out loud, her voice ringing across the barren land slick with mud. “For we wrestle not against flesh and blood,”

As the words left her lips, they solidified in the atmosphere, charging toward their mark like a spear. They reached the barrier, causing it to shift and ripple but not tear.

About the Authors:

D. “Tina” Batten is a loving mother, wife, sister, daughter and Mima to her grandchildren. She is a gifted visual storyteller who is passionate about bringing encouraging messages of inspiration and hope to the world.
Tina Batten, a writer for over eighteen years of various dramatic works of performing art via stage, and film, encompasses unique ways of creating fascinating story concepts that touch the heart of most who view or read her work. She is both honored and thrilled to have teamed up with long-time friend, sister in the gospel and co-author Tracy on this phenomenal collaborative book project. With such a humble heart and desire to bring people together in love and unity, Tina Batten will continue her work as a visual storyteller spreading the good news of Jesus Christ one project after the other.

As Always, D. “Tina” Batten gives God All the Glory!

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Traci Wooden-Carlisle began writing to publish in 2011 and enjoys writing stories that provoke thought and evoke emotions. Her desire is to draw readers into the lives of her characters and share messages of God’s love, His faithfulness and peace. The messages in her books speak to her way before they speak to her readers.

Traci lives in San Diego with her husband, David. When she isn’t writing she does some light traveling or assists people with their physical fitness, creates graphics, designs pretty things for her jewelry business and swag for authors.

You can find her on the following social media platforms.

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Winter Blogfest: Laura Moseley

This post is part of Long and Short Reviews’ Winter Blogfest. Leave a comment and be entered to win a $25 Amazon GC!

Navigating Holiday Anxiety as a Trauma Survivor: Your Guide to a Relaxed and Joyful Season

The holiday season is often portrayed as a time of joy, love, and togetherness. However, for trauma survivors, it can bring forth a unique set of challenges and triggers that can intensify anxiety. But fear not! In this article, we’ll explore practical strategies and self-care tips to help you navigate and survive holiday anxiety, allowing you to embrace a relaxed and joyful season.

1. Acknowledge and Validate Your Feelings:

As a trauma survivor, it’s essential to recognize that your anxiety during the holidays is valid. Give yourself permission to feel the emotions that arise and understand that it’s okay to prioritize your well-being. Take time to acknowledge and validate your feelings, allowing yourself the space to heal.

2. Plan Ahead and Set Boundaries:

One effective way to manage holiday anxiety is through planning. Create a structured schedule that includes rest periods, self-care activities, and time for relaxation. Setting boundaries with others is equally important. Communicate your needs and limits to your loved ones, ensuring you have the space and support you require.

3. Practice Self-Care:

Self-care is crucial for trauma survivors, especially during the holiday season. Engage in activities that bring you comfort and peace, whether it’s taking a warm bath, practicing mindfulness, journaling, or engaging in creative outlets. Prioritize self-care and listen to your body’s needs to maintain a sense of calm and well-being. Books were always a source of self-care during the active-abuse still afterward. Escaping into a great book can be the needed reset!

4. Seek Support:

Don’t hesitate to reach out for support from trusted friends, family, or mental health professionals. Connecting with others who understand your experiences can provide a sense of validation and comfort. Consider joining support groups or seeking therapy to navigate holiday anxiety more effectively.

5. Modify Traditions to Suit Your Needs:

Traditions can be comforting, but they can also trigger anxiety for trauma survivors. Modify or create new traditions that align with your healing journey. Give yourself permission to say no to certain activities or events that may be overwhelming. Focus on activities that promote your well-being and bring you joy.

6. Practice Mindfulness and Grounding Techniques:

During moments of heightened anxiety, practicing mindfulness and grounding techniques can be immensely helpful. Deep breathing exercises, meditation, or focusing on your senses can help you stay present and grounded. Incorporate these techniques into your daily routine to manage anxiety effectively.

Surviving holiday anxiety as a trauma survivor requires self-compassion, planning, and self-care. By acknowledging your feelings, setting boundaries, seeking support, modifying traditions, and practicing mindfulness, you can navigate the holiday season with a sense of relaxation and joy. Remember, you deserve a peaceful and fulfilling holiday experience, tailored to your unique needs.

“Battle-Scars: Hated. Isolated. Wronged. Disregarded.

Those WERE some of the challenges faced by the authors of GOD Says I am Battle-Scar Free.

PRIZED! ESTEEMED! CHOSEN! POLISHED!

With a personal relationship with God, that is how those same people feel today.

In this seventh and final installment of the Battle-Scar Free series, testimonies are shared from women and men who have “”been there, done that.”” They come from various walks of life but share one common story: They are SURVIVORS.

Amid a global pandemic (COVID-19), these contributors sought and found healing of their hearts, minds, and souls. Through the expression of their truths, you will be inspired to fight another day. Despite the obstacles they faced, the power of their words and belief in an Almighty God attributed to their very survival.

READ…for understanding.

READ…to be empowered.

READ…for freedom.

READ TO BE BATTLE-SCAR FREE!”

I am a single mother of 3 (and Nana to one) who survived 23+ years of sexual and domestic abuse, in ALL forms. I work for a federal social services organization, and also am a DV advocate, and activist, speaker, author, writer, and blogger. My blog (http://www.dvwalkingwounded.me/) is a mental health blog for victims and survivors of DV. I am on a journey of rediscovery, after DV, and I hope to help others to do the same.

http://www.dvwalkingwounded.me/
https://www.Facebook.com/dvwalkingwounded
https://www.Twitter.com/Lmgoodwin1203
https://a.co/d/2R03dvA

Fitting the Financier by Rebecca Austin – Spotlight and Giveaway

 

Long and Short Reviews welcomes Robecca Austin who is celebrating today’s release of Fitting the Financier, a Man of the Month novella.

If opposites attract, she’s made for me. She’s my match.
The perfect combination of sassy, sweet, and sexy. She’s also my daughter’s best friend, off limits.

I have no plans to visit the small town or partake in the festivities of mistletoes and pumpkin spice lattes this Christmas. For good reason. One look into her stormy gray eyes and I’ll want no one except her to fill the void in my life.

But when Naomi needs an investor that’s more ruthless than nice, how can I say no?

She thinks I’m helping her out of charity, but she’s wrong. I can crush bullies, and using that power is the distraction I need to break my forbidden desires for her.

The MAN OF THE MONTH CLUB is a steamy small-town collection featuring a new hottie (or two!) every month. In 2023, escape to Candy Cane Key, Florida, and celebrate ALL the holidays with your favorite group of romance authors and their delicious men. Can’t wait to see you there!

Enjoy an Excerpt

“You’re staring.” He passes me a pouch.

“Am I?” The peanuts are warm in my hand. The scent of caramelized sugar tickles my nose.

“Now you’re flushing. If I didn’t know better I’d say you’re having naughty thoughts about the side of my digits.”

I choke on a nut. My eyes water. “I think the reference is to shoe sizes.” I make a point to glance at his snickers.

“Twelves, baby.” He wiggles a brow.

This time I chomp on the nut before it goes anywhere near my throat. “I was thinking your hands belong to a mechanic not a person working in city hall.”

“Give me half a chance and I can show you what these hands are good for.”

“Travis…” I flush, not because I’m a prude, but because despite the lovely evening, Charity’s dad is at the edge of my thoughts. I blame Charity for mentioning him, for convincing him to visit Candy Cane. Most of all, I blame myself for falling for a man who didn’t know I existed beyond being his daughter’s best friend.

“Get your head out of the gutter,” Travis says with a smile that I wished set my heart on fire. “I noticed you didn’t have any Christmas decorations up yet. Any later and the entire town will write to the big man himself.” He glances around him, then whispers. “Or worse, put a complaint in with the city.”

I groan. He’s only half joking. Candy Cane had a Chrsitmas committee of four grandmothers that took their positions as seriously as the mayor. There hasn’t been a change in membership since Carter was president and unless one died, their word is law when it comes to Christmas.

“I’ve just been—”

“Hey, no need to explain.”

But I want to. Want to share my good news with someone other than Charity. “I recently received good news that will help my business.”

“That’s amazing.”

“And nerve racking but it’s an opportunity to grow.”

“You’re not trying to let me down easily, are you?” He searched my face.

I shook my head. “No.” This is my chance to have a fresh beginning all around. It is definitely time I put a stop to this madness I feel for Nathan and get a hold of my love life. I realize that I went about my dating life the wrong way. Pushing Travis away or engrossing myself in work isn’t the answer to forgetting Nathan Dawan. Dating is. Nights like tonight are. We are at the end of the path. The end of a beautiful evening. “Sorry it took so long to make tonight happen.”

He paused, taking my hand. I stared at our hands. This was nice in a gentle, reassuring sort of way. My middle didn’t flutter from the mere thought of him and his name didn’t have my pulse racing. “You’re worth the wait Naomi Waters.”

We’re caught in a loop of staring into each other’s eyes. I will myself to relax, drown in the blue sea staring back at me but all I see are Nathan’s dark intense eyes that mimic the howling winds of a category four hurricane.
Travis leans in and my stomach flutters. The feeling is so unexpected that my eyes widen instead of closing in anticipation of our first kiss and I gasp. He tosses his peanuts aside to cup my cheek. My lips part to tell him to wait…that I’m not ready, but no words escape.

Not a single one.

The distance closes between us and I slam my eyes such, too afraid he’ll see my thoughts for another man in my eyes. The first kiss I’d shamelessly envisioned having with him.

“You really shouldn’t litter,” came an icy tone.

Shit. Shit. I’m even hearing his voice. Squeezing my eyes tighter, I pucker my lips like a tenth grader and concentrate on what is about to happen.

“Naomi!” Nathan growls, the sound bouncing behind my eyelids. I try harder to block him out. He’s only in your imagination.

I count to five and wait.

About the Author: Robecca Austin is the author of happy ever after romance stories. She enjoys crafting tales of sassy heroines and alpha heroes that have a soft center.

She writes historical romance and billionaire romance stories.

You can find her outside enjoying nature and lots of sunshine when there are no bugs. When she’s not writing her next novel, she’s busy battling Cystic Fibrosis and hugging family. She lives and works in Canada.

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