Wednesday 30 July 2014

Your Mid-Week Update for 07/30/14

I’ve started hearing voices: at home; at work. I thought the woman in the bathroom stall next to me was speaking to me so I spoke back. She wasn’t speaking to me.

For a moment I thought I’d found a kindred spirit – the way she was talking to me. The way the voices were talking to me. Teasing me.

Sticking a pickaxe through that man’s eyeballs.

Stuffing that woman’s silk scarf down her own throat.

Peeling that man’s fingernails off with rusty pliers.

I can’t breathe. Why would they tell me these things? Why would they tease me?

I can taste them. The voices…such detail…I can hardly bear it.

On top of that I haven't orgasmed in a month. Every time I'm about to climax I think about that...woman. The one that has gotten me into this mess.

What? She fucks the copyboy and now I can’t get off? In what messed up universe does that makes sense?

Maybe the voices can come up with a delicious way to kill her all over again.

The case has been settled. My company is no longer under investigation and neither am I.

I wish someone would tell Daniel Westburn. He was outside my house again yesterday. He still thinks I’m under investigation. That man is making the voices come louder and me not at all.

I can’t stand it for much longer.

As always, dear readers,


Stay Safe

Monday 28 July 2014

My Review of Destruction

David Vandergraff wants to be a good man. He goes to church every Sunday, keeps his lawn trim and green, and loves his wife and kids more than anything. Unfortunately, being a dark wizard isn't a choice.

Eleven years ago, David's secret second family went missing. When his two lost children are finally found, he learns they suffered years of unthinkable abuse. Ready to make things right, David brings the kids home even though it could mean losing the wife he can’t imagine living without. 

Keeping his life together becomes harder when the new children claim to be dark wizards. David believes they use this fantasy to cope with their trauma. Until, David's wife admits a secret of her own—she is a dark wizard too, as is David, and all of their children. 

Now, David must parent two hurting children from a dark world he doesn’t understand and keep his family from falling apart. All while dealing with the realization that everyone he loves, including himself, may be evil.

Sharon Bayliss is the author of The December People Series and The Charge. When she’s not writing, she enj oys living happily-ever-after with her husband and two young sons. She can be found eating Tex-Mex on patios, wearing flip-flops, and playing in the mud (which she calls gardening). She only practices magic in emergencies.

Thursday 24 July 2014

Interview with Ann Noser



Today, I interview the lovely Ann Noser about her book How to Date Dead Guys. 

cover1000.jpg


Description:

College sophomore Emma Roberts remembers her mother’s sage advice:  “don’t sleep around, don’t burp in public, and don’t tell anyone you see ghosts”.  But when charming Mike Carlson drowns in the campus river under her watch, Emma’s sheltered life shatters.
Blamed for Mike’s death and haunted by nightmares, Emma turns to witchcraft and a mysterious Book of Shadows to bring him back.  Under a Blood Moon, she lights candles, draws a pentacle on the campus bridge, and casts a spell.  The invoked river rages up against her, but she escapes its fury.  As she stumbles back to the dorm, a stranger drags himself from the water and follows her home. And he isn't the only one.  
Instead of raising Mike, Emma assists the others she stole back from the dead—a pre-med student who jumped off the bridge, a desperate victim determined to solve his own murder, and a frat boy Emma can’t stand…at first.  More comfortable with the dead than the living, Emma delves deeper into the seductive Book of Shadows.  Her powers grow, but witchcraft may not be enough to protect her against the vengeful river and the killers that feed it their victims.
Inspired by the controversial Smiley Face Murders, HOW TO DATE DEAD GUYS will ignite the secret powers hidden deep within each of us.
How To Date Dead Guys Purchase Links:
Kobo: Forthcoming
--

About the Author:

annmugshot.jpgMy to-do list dictates that I try to cram 48 hours of living into a day instead of the usual 24.  I’ve chosen a life filled with animals.  I train for marathons with my dog, then go to work as a small animal veterinarian, and finish the day by tripping over my pets as I attempt to convince my two unruly children that YES, it really IS time for bed.  But I can’t wait until the house is quiet to write; I have to steal moments throughout the day.  Ten minutes here, a half hour there, I live within my imagination.
Like all busy American mothers, I multi-task.  I work out plot holes during runs.  Instead of meditating, I type madly during yoga stretches.  I find inspiration in everyday things:  a beautiful smile, a heartbreaking song, or a newspaper article on a political theory.  For example, a long drive in the dark listening to an NPR program on the SMILEY FACE MURDERS theory made me ask so many questions that I wrote HOW TO DATE DEAD GUYS to answer them to my satisfaction.
I’d love to have more time to write (and run, read, and sleep), but until I find Hermione Granger’s time turner, I will juggle real life with the half-written stories in my head.  Main characters and plot lines intertwine in my cranium, and I need to let my writing weave the tales on paper so I can find out what happens next.

Social Links: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

Wednesday 23 July 2014

Your Mid-Week Update for 07/23/14

There was a girl at the restaurant yesterday and I wanted to kill her. I wanted to tear her throat out with my bare hands so she couldn’t scream while I bit into her flesh and tasted. I wanted my lips dripping with someone else’s blood; I wanted my canines to hit bone and scrape along the muscle. Feel her heart give out in my hands.

Sitting at the next table from her was Daniel Westburn: the private investigator hired by the law firm to follow me. I didn’t think about killing him. I’m envisioning everything but death for him.

The hunger is starting to affect my working life. I can’t concentrate. I drink water and I taste blood. I want to put someone’s head through the industrial shredder. I’ve broken three nails from scratching at my desk instead of doing my job.

Heather asked me on Monday if everything was alright at home and I nearly cried.

James.

James doesn’t know how bad it’s gotten. He knows I’m struggling but he doesn’t know. He took me out to a public restaurant yesterday because…

I don’t know why, but whatever the reason, it failed.

I. Am. Not. Well.

Someone needs to die. Soon.

But for now, it can’t be by my hand. Not until I deal with Daniel Westburn.

As always, dear readers,


Stay Safe

Tuesday 22 July 2014

My Review of How to Date Dead Guys

cover1000.jpg
How to Date Dead Guys by Ann Noser

Series: Under The Blood Moon
Genre: new-adult, urban-fantasy
Publisher: Curiosity Quills Press
Date of Publication: July 15th, 2014

Cover Reveal: June 2nd, 2014

Blog Tour: July 14 - 25th, excluding weekends



Description:

College sophomore Emma Roberts remembers her mother’s sage advice:  “don’t sleep around, don’t burp in public, and don’t tell anyone you see ghosts”.  But when charming Mike Carlson drowns in the campus river under her watch, Emma’s sheltered life shatters.
Blamed for Mike’s death and haunted by nightmares, Emma turns to witchcraft and a mysterious Book of Shadows to bring him back.  Under a Blood Moon, she lights candles, draws a pentacle on the campus bridge, and casts a spell.  The invoked river rages up against her, but she escapes its fury.  As she stumbles back to the dorm, a stranger drags himself from the water and follows her home. And he isn't the only one.  
Instead of raising Mike, Emma assists the others she stole back from the dead—a pre-med student who jumped off the bridge, a desperate victim determined to solve his own murder, and a frat boy Emma can’t stand…at first.  More comfortable with the dead than the living, Emma delves deeper into the seductive Book of Shadows.  Her powers grow, but witchcraft may not be enough to protect her against the vengeful river and the killers that feed it their victims.
Inspired by the controversial Smiley Face Murders, HOW TO DATE DEAD GUYS will ignite the secret powers hidden deep within each of us.


About the Author:

annmugshot.jpgMy to-do list dictates that I try to cram 48 hours of living into a day instead of the usual 24.  I’ve chosen a life filled with animals.  I train for marathons with my dog, then go to work as a small animal veterinarian, and finish the day by tripping over my pets as I attempt to convince my two unruly children that YES, it really IS time for bed.  But I can’t wait until the house is quiet to write; I have to steal moments throughout the day.  Ten minutes here, a half hour there, I live within my imagination.
Like all busy American mothers, I multi-task.  I work out plot holes during runs.  Instead of meditating, I type madly during yoga stretches.  I find inspiration in everyday things:  a beautiful smile, a heartbreaking song, or a newspaper article on a political theory.  For example, a long drive in the dark listening to an NPR program on the SMILEY FACE MURDERS theory made me ask so many questions that I wrote HOW TO DATE DEAD GUYS to answer them to my satisfaction.
I’d love to have more time to write (and run, read, and sleep), but until I find Hermione Granger’s time turner, I will juggle real life with the half-written stories in my head.  Main characters and plot lines intertwine in my cranium, and I need to let my writing weave the tales on paper so I can find out what happens next.

~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~

Wednesday 16 July 2014

Your Mid-Week Update for 07/16/14

Almost two weeks since my last kill and I’m getting anxious. You know I’ve had dry spells before but this is different. This is innocence out of necessity. And it is driving me mad.

The law firm that is suing us on behalf of Slutty McDead has hired a private investigator. And he’s not subtle. 

He thinks I don’t notice him parked down the block but I notice everything new. This means that I can’t express myself the way I normally do. In fact I can’t express at all. It’s frustrating as hell.

Yesterday I walked into the kitchen after work and my husband was there. The kids were out with their friends so it was just James and me. He was making supper – pasta…something (I wasn’t really paying attention) – without his shirt on. He hasn’t done that in months.

How I’ve missed that flesh.

That sinewy flesh; tanned and toned and begging for my teeth.

But lately in my fantasies I bite down too hard. I taste blood, I taste the salty sweat of his skin. I touch bone.
I can’t even enjoy a good sex dream without wanting to maim and murder.

I’m better than this. I can rise above. I don’t have to be tempted everywhere I go. I don’t have to kill all the time. No matter what my body is saying.

No matter how much I want to rip that PI’s throat out for disrupting my routine.

I can be better.

I have to.

For James.

As always, dear readers,


Stay Safe

Monday 14 July 2014

My Review of the Butterfly and the Violin

I received an advanced copy of this book at RT14 and, yes, I’m finally getting around to reading it.

I encourage you to listen to these two pieces. They're relevant to the novel and stunning pieces of work.





Today. Sera James spends most of her time arranging auctions for the art world’s elite clientele. When her search to uncover an original portrait of an unknown Holocaust victim leads her to William Hanover III, they learn that this painting is much more than it seems.

Vienna, 1942. Adele Von Bron has always known what was expected of her. As a prodigy of Vienna’s vast musical heritage, this concert violinist intends to carry on her family’s tradition and play with the Vienna Philharmonic. But when the Nazis learn that she helped smuggle Jews out of the city, Adele is taken from her promising future and thrust into the horrifying world of Auschwitz.

The veil of innocence is lifted to expose a shuddering presence of evil, and Adele realizes that her God-given gift is her only advantage; she must play. Becoming a member of the Women’s Orchestra of Auschwitz, she fights for survival. Adele’s barbed-wire walls begin to kill her hope as the months drag into nearly two years in the camp. With surprising courage against the backdrop of murder and despair, Adele finally confronts a question that has been tugging at her heart: Even in the midst of evil, can she find hope in worshipping God with her gift?

As Sera and William learn more about the subject of the mysterious portrait—Adele—they are reminded that whatever horrors one might face, God’s faithfulness never falters.


Friday 11 July 2014

My Review of Persephone's Orchard by Molly Ringle

The Greek gods never actually existed. Did they? Sophie Darrow finds she was wrong about that assumption when she's pulled into the spirit realm, complete with an Underworld, on her very first day at college. Adrian, the mysterious young man who brought her there, simply wants her to taste a pomegranate. And soon, though she returns to her regular life, her mind begins exploding with dreams and memories of ancient times--of a love between two Greeks named Persephone and Hades. But lethal danger has always surrounded the immortals, and now that she's tainted with the Underworld's magic, that danger is drawing closer to Sophie.








In celebration of the release of Underworld’s Daughter, book two in the this series by Molly Ringle, I picked up Persephone’s Orchard and tore through it.

Cliff notes version: The reincarnations of Persephone and Hades find each other in the modern world – and in this retelling of the famous Greek myth, they’re very much in love.

I was in love with the idea of this retelling before I even read it so when it turned out to be fantastic, a little sassy, and all kinds of sexual tension, I was hooked.

Molly Ringle has this great use of descriptive language throughout the novel which is so important to me when it comes to world building. She painted this beautiful picture of the Underworld that I can’t wait to explore more of.

A lot of times, I felt like I was waiting for the action to pick up because it seemed like an awful lot of character establishment. But then again, I’m also the girl who adores backstory.

And speaking of adoration: NA romance!

Sophie and Adrian do not have the simplest of relationships but man, are they adorable. This isn’t your typical “will they/won’t they” love story. This is a “when” love story. And they “when” so much, I love it.

And of course, what review of mine is complete without a ridiculously long list of random notes while reading:
  • That is an excellent opening line. Violence towards animals.
  • Ah small town girls, so…colourful.
  • Stereotypical European man. Check.
  • I really like how I’m slowly being fed information rather than having to absorb it all at once. That little tidbit about her mom was very intriguing but not dwelled on which I love.
  • “That was easy. We must teach you to be less trusting.” – not things girls love to hear from guys…just saying.
  •  Punch it in the face. Always option three. Always punch a lion in the face.
  • Yes please. Please talk. I need context. I’m very, very intrigued.
  • I’m glad we’ve established the love-sick puppy right away.
  • Honey, you’re really not helping your cause.
  • Oh that is so low.
  • Sometimes the best lie is the truth.
  • I think the author is filling in too many blanks. Some of this stuff the reader can figure out on their own.
  • I keep wondering if we’re being fed useless character background but so far we’re okay
  • Oh my god, it’s like what happens after the credits roll in a YA. I’m so impressed.
  • You are. A stalker. You are.
  • I wish I could go wild at college by going off with a strange Kiwi to the Underworld…just saying.
  • Kind of reminds me of the bus from Harry Potter.
  • And the questions just keep piling up.
  • You’re awfully curious about that bed, Sophie (wink, wink)
  • Six chapters in and you’re doing nothing to convince me you’re not a creep.
  • There’s A LOT of description – which I expected – but it’s nice that it’s not totally overwhelming.
  • Thank you, thank you for sliding the information to me across the table on a folded piece of paper rather than shouting it to me across a crowded room.
  • Yes that was a metaphor about info dumping. I’m very pleased.
  • FINALLY!
  • “I slept with you!” “Which time?” The time I woke the house with laughter at this exchange.
  •  You did your research…or you fake it with confidence.
  • You women are all about the physical.
  • No Jacob, it’s really not your night.
  • That was an intense flashback. Backstory central.
  • Aw, even buses get an afterlife.
  • Hee, hee, hee, you guys had sex.
  • I love this twist on Greek Mythology – original and engaging.
  • And the author regarded the age different in immortals so beautifully.
  • Hermes makes me smile.
  • Oh Jacob, acting jealous won’t actually work.
  • Patronizing Persephone will only bring you pain, I promise.
  • We’re reaching Inception territory here.
  • I wasn’t even thinking about her…good job.
  • I love the dynamic between Niko and…everyone.
  • That boy could melt a glacier with his words.
  • *snicker* Your Dad.
  • You guys dibsed each other, like, ages ago.
  • I know Demeter is just being protective but come on!
  • “This. Girl is on FIRE!”
  • *snicker* Tasty Darkness.
  • I appreciate that Sophie’s parents are treating her like an adult and acting mature.
  • Dun, Dun, DUN.
  • Finally, he admits it!


As I said, I loved this original twist on Greek Mythology. The characters just made me smile – or giggle in the case of Niko – and there was so much relationship. Just…all over the place. I'm definitely hooked on this contemporary romance. 

I’m going out right now to get a copy of Book Two because this needs to happen. I need to know what happens next.


Get your copy of Persephone’s Orchard here.

Molly Ringle has been writing fiction for over twenty years. With her intense devotion to silly humor, she was especially proud to win the grand prize in the 2010 Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest with one (intentionally) terrible sentence. Her academic studies include a bachelor of arts in anthropology (University of Oregon, Clark Honors College) and a master of arts in linguistics (University of California, Davis). Molly lives in Seattle with her husband and kids, and worships fragrances and chocolate.

Wednesday 9 July 2014

You Mid-Week Update for 07/09/14

Two weeks ago I fired a woman at work (sadly not Heather) because I caught her fucking her boyfriend in the store room (how cliché) and on Thursday I was told she was suing me for wrongful termination. The next day she died. I'm not saying I did it but I did. And it was great. Now our company is under investigation and I feel like I'm constantly being watched. Talk about performance anxiety.

I'm focusing on breathing and not killing.

It's not working.

Sigh.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe

Wednesday 2 July 2014

Your Mid-Week Update for 07/02/14

Murder can be very messy. Not always, mind you; I once killed a man by sticking a knitting needle in his ear and scrambling around the bits of brain I could get at. I didn’t spill a drop of blood – except for the bits that pooled in his ear. And it was neat; complicated but neat. Sometimes murder can be very neat.

But sometimes murder can be very, very messy.

I learnt that this week – on Sunday.

I went to the theatre with some of the girls from work and there was this man sitting in front of us who would not stop texting on his cell phone. It’s so rude. You are there to see a performance, not disturb the people around you.

So at intermission, I excused myself to the washroom, and I found him outside the theatre, smoking, and asked him to please be kinder to the other patrons.

He told me to fuck off.

Now, some people may think I was out of line for talking to him but honestly I think I was in the right. There’s no reason for people to behave like that around other people. Especially people who have paid to see a performance.

After he blew me off, I tried to remain calm. I kindly asked him to step further away from the theatre entrance so we could talk more privately, and because he was currently talking to my tits and not my face, he agreed.

I led him around near the back of the theatre where a construction crew had left some of their random tools earlier in the day. I would like to state for the record that I didn’t have this knowledge beforehand. I led him around near the back because I noticed there were no lights and hardly any line of sight. I had a letter opener in my purse for such occasion as a jerk on his cellphone and I intended to use it.

But then I saw the wood chipper.

I would also like to state for the record that he started it. And not just because he was a jerk with a cellphone. He foolishly took my flirting as a sign that I was interested and he made a pass at me. I pulled my letter opener and took a stab at him. I nicked him in the shoulder and he freaked out, jumping at me. I’ll admit, I wasn’t prepared for him to fight back so hard. I...dropped the letter opener.

Yes, even I make mistakes.

I remember falling to the ground; I remember reaching for a weapon. I remember tasting blood – not my blood.

And I remember being so angry that he took me by surprise. Me; in my element. So while he was lying on the ground, I turned off the safety and turned on the wood chipper. I was going to destroy him.

But he came at me again and I hit him with whatever was in my hand – a hammer. The sharp end of a hammer. And I hit him again and again.

Sixteen blows.

I counted each bone that I heard crunch, every spatter of blood that sunk into my dress.

He was dead after two.

After sixteen blows I looked at the wood chipper and I had a vision: I dragged the body over to the machine and tossed it in. Skin, bone, and meat mangled, crunched, and tore until it came out the other end as a pile of dust.

Instead I turned the machine off, and hit him twice more – just for good measure. And I walked away. I put the hammer and letter opener in my purse, I wiped away any noticeable blood (thank god for little black dresses) and I enjoyed the rest of the show in peace.

It was actually a very good show. Fun, and entertaining – a little dirty and cheeky. I highly recommend it to all my friends.

The next morning my lovely secretary rushed into my office to tell me all about the body that was discovered outside the theatre we had just visited. What if it had been us? Did we see anything?

On and on; she just kept talking.

I kept thinking about that wood chipper and I had one, distinct thought:

One day I’m going to kill Heather and I won’t hesitate to turn her to dust.

Next time.

As always, dear readers,

Stay Safe