I've been having a tough time plotting these past couple of weeks, and it brings to mind how helpful it is to sometimes simply have someone sit down with us and ask all the "what ifs". Even if the particular question doesn't quite fit our story, it's amazing how this sometimes jars our imagination to the point where we have our A-HAH! moment and can continue on.
Sometimes it feels like no one's about when we need them, though. So I thought I'd offer a brainstorm session in the comment box below this post. (We've done Public Brainstorms a couple of times in the past, where I accepted entries and posted each one separately. I thought I'd try a simpler approach this time to see how it goes.)
Are you plotting/story planning/drafting? Are you feeling stuck/confused/discouraged? Ask your question in the comment box below! I will copy it here (in the body of this post) so people can see it easily, and then they'll be able to comment beneath your comment to perhaps offer the question you most needed.
Want to try?
It might look like this:
My protagonist and her boyfriend have arrived at her house late at night, and this is a turning point where something awful has happened and it looks like her boyfriend is responsible, but I can't think of what that awful thing should be.
Or...
My hero needs to go to the Plains of Despair, because there is a magical item there that is important for his quest. However, I can't come up with a believable motivation for him to go there, other than I just need him to. Can you throw me some motivation questions?
Now, those may seem sort of vague, but trust me (and I'm sure you already know this)--you never know what will spark you. It's like a bottle of Drano poured down a hair-clogged pipe!
THIS IS IMPORTANT: As folks leave their ideas, don't come back and tell them why their ideas won't work--unless it is posed as a question! For instance, if someone says, "What if she finds the bloody razor after the donkey relay? Would that throw off your time line?" In this instance, it's fine to answer yes or no, and engage in dialogue. But please don't be a Negative Nellie and punch down other people's brainstorms. Read, absorb, let your brain start quietly ticking.
Post your stuck-place in the comments below. Then share the link to this post and wait for help to arrive!
Miss Snark's First Victim
Thursday, July 26, 2018
Friday, July 20, 2018
Friday Fricassee (aka Vacation and Beyond)
There's so much emotion involved in the unfolding of a debut novel. The work--the nitty-gritty, teeth-grinding, hand-wringing work--is largely behind me, and now there's this huge, invisible machine that cranks behind the scenes.
Crank, crank, blurbs from authors.
Crank, crank, fabulous cover artist.
Crank, crank, release date moved.
On it goes, and whenever I really think about any part of it, my stomach shoots down to my toes and the sheer THIS-IS-ACTUALLY-HAPPENING overwhelms me all over again.
So June was vacation month, and we were gone for 16 days, which is a lot of days to be not-home. We spent the first week at my parents' home, which happens to be the house I grew up in. One of my goals for the trip was to do this:
I've watched Maggie grow from her sweet, fumbling attempts when she was 11 or 12 (yes, she jumped right in and started writing novels!), through her teen years when she got really serious about her writing but didn't have the maturity to go back and revise, past the college years when writing had to take a back seat to course reading and term papers, to recently when she jumped back in and blew me away with how far she'd come. She has a natural knack for creating multi-faceted, believable characters--the kind that stick with you for days after you finish reading the book. The kind that make you cry.
I'm so proud of her. But you knew that.
Anyway. Our second week of vacation was spent at the shore. Yes, I wrote almost every day, but writing near the ocean is something I wish I could always do, so it didn't exactly feel like work. Not exactly.
And now we're home, and July, my wonderfully, beautifully open month of almost no commitments, is flying by at an alarming rate.
Crank, crank, blurbs from authors.
Crank, crank, fabulous cover artist.
Crank, crank, release date moved.
On it goes, and whenever I really think about any part of it, my stomach shoots down to my toes and the sheer THIS-IS-ACTUALLY-HAPPENING overwhelms me all over again.
These are my legs and toes from 2016, when I was plotting GATHERING STORM. Not even writing yet--just planning. Which, by the way, is my least favorite part of writing, with first-drafting a very close second. (Revisions make my spirit sing.) I'm so glad I took this silly little selfie back then, because it reminds me of what lies ahead of the hard parts. (And, yes, I'm in the middle of one of those right now, planning and plotting and all sorts of blank-faced staring.)
This is the picture-with-a-moral, of course, which is, as always, KEEP WRITING.
So June was vacation month, and we were gone for 16 days, which is a lot of days to be not-home. We spent the first week at my parents' home, which happens to be the house I grew up in. One of my goals for the trip was to do this:
The first picture was taken in March, 1974, by a photographer from The Morning Call (the newspaper for the Allentown area of Pennsylvania). They did a lovely article on my writing, including an interview and several of my poems and drawings on a full-page spread. It was, for a not-quite-nine-year-old, a heady experience.
And, of course, the picture on the right was taken just a few weeks ago. I mean, THE WALLPAPER. It's the same! So are the table and chair. I couldn't not take advantage of such a perfect time capsule. Mind you, I didn't quite fit in the same little nook I'd squooshed myself into when I was 8. But I'm still pretty pleased with the results, thanks to the patience of my dear husband.
Other than spending Father's Day with my almost-85-year-old dad, who is and always will be my original Prince Charming, another highlight of that first week was a trip to New York, where I spent time with both my editor and my agent!
I met Elayne in the foyer of the Flatiron building, where the Tor offices are located, and we walked up the street to have lunch. This was our first face-to-face, and I absolutely enjoyed every moment! One can only hope--and not be guaranteed--that there will be a "click" between author and editor, and I was not disappointed. Elayne exuded a loveliness and down-to-earthness that made talking with her sheer pleasure. (The fact that she's in love with Mr. Thornton is an added bonus.) I wish I'd asked our waiter to take a picture, but he was a bit off-putting and the opportunity didn't present itself. At any rate, I was thankful for the gift of meeting Elayne in person, and I remain oh, so thankful to have her as my editor.
After way too much walking (husband Eric was born in Yonkers and isn't the least bit intimidated by the city--and he clearly didn't anticipate my level of wimpdom), I met Danielle at an amazing wine and chocolate bar for dinner.
Ever since Gathering Storm sold last September, Danielle and I have been talking about sharing chocolate martinis to celebrate. She picked the absolutely best place to do so, and it was seriously the best chocolate martini I've ever had.
No, really. I'm wrecked for life.
And they were served with this amazing dark chocolate, filled with a ganache that made me question the necessity for any other food, ever.
I could've sat there until the moon rose and the city streets emptied. Truly, words fail me for how much I love and appreciate this woman. She has stuck by me through hard revisions, difficult plotting, and repeated disappointment. She's empathetic, insightful, brilliant, and funny, and, why, yes, I am gushing.
On an incredibly exciting, not-so-side note, Danielle recently signed my daughter, Maggie Boehme, who has written an incredible YA survival story that's going to knock the socks off any editor who reads it. I'm as over the moon about this as Maggie is!
It's official!! I am beyond excited to share that I'm now represented by @DanielleBurby of Nelson Literary Agency!!! 😀🙌🎉— Maggie Boehme (@meboehme) July 19, 2018
I've watched Maggie grow from her sweet, fumbling attempts when she was 11 or 12 (yes, she jumped right in and started writing novels!), through her teen years when she got really serious about her writing but didn't have the maturity to go back and revise, past the college years when writing had to take a back seat to course reading and term papers, to recently when she jumped back in and blew me away with how far she'd come. She has a natural knack for creating multi-faceted, believable characters--the kind that stick with you for days after you finish reading the book. The kind that make you cry.
I'm so proud of her. But you knew that.
Anyway. Our second week of vacation was spent at the shore. Yes, I wrote almost every day, but writing near the ocean is something I wish I could always do, so it didn't exactly feel like work. Not exactly.
This was probably the best part--working through story notes for what has turned out to be Elayne's choice for my next novel. But that's a tale for another day. (I'm so excited about this story that sometimes I just close my eyes and grin like an idiot, thinking about it. That doesn't happen when I'm actually plotting, of course. Because...plotting.)
And now we're home, and July, my wonderfully, beautifully open month of almost no commitments, is flying by at an alarming rate.
Also it's hot. My cat is drooping.
And there you have it! So much to be thankful for. The latest news is an amended release date for Gathering Storm, so take note: September, 2019. For some strange reason, that doesn't feel so far away! The only stinky part is that, since my book has been shifted from a summer to a fall release, I'll have to wait until November to let you all know what the new title is.
Still. You can add it to your to-read list on Goodreads, regardless. (And, oh, that would make me happy!)
I think that's about it! Oh, and if you haven't yet subscribed to my newsletter, take a minute to sign up now. The next issue will be out on August 9.
Happy weekend! Happy writing! And thanks, as always, for sharing my journey.
Thursday, July 19, 2018
Here are the WINNERS who GRABBED MY HEART
Congratulations to the following 3 authors, who have each won a 5-page critique from me!
They are:
1. #4 FERAL PRIME, YA Science Fiction
2. #27 THE SORCEROR'S WARNING, MG Fantasy
3. #29 TIME PASSAGES, YA Contemporary Fantasy
Winners: Please email me at authoress.edits@gmail.com for submission instructions.
A huge thanks to everyone who entered--and keep those critiques coming!
They are:
1. #4 FERAL PRIME, YA Science Fiction
2. #27 THE SORCEROR'S WARNING, MG Fantasy
3. #29 TIME PASSAGES, YA Contemporary Fantasy
Winners: Please email me at authoress.edits@gmail.com for submission instructions.
A huge thanks to everyone who entered--and keep those critiques coming!
Wednesday, July 18, 2018
Grab My Heart Critique Guidelines
The entries are up, so have at it! I couldn't help but notice the hefty amount of fantasy included here. (That's not a complaint! I mean, I write fantasy. Just an interesting observation!)
I won't be leaving critique, but I WILL be choosing my 3 favorites, each of which will receive a 5-page critique (privately). Look for that announcement tomorrow!
Guidelines for Critique on MSFV:
*I can't possibly read every comment. If you ever see a comment that is truly snarky, please email me. I count on your help.
I won't be leaving critique, but I WILL be choosing my 3 favorites, each of which will receive a 5-page critique (privately). Look for that announcement tomorrow!
Guidelines for Critique on MSFV:
- Please leave your critique for each entry in the comment box for that entry.
- Please choose a screen name to sign your comments. The screen name DOES NOT have to be your real name; however, it needs to be an identifiable name. ("Anonymous" is not a name.)
- Critiques should be honest but kind, helpful but sensitive.
- Critiques that attack the writer or are couched in unkind words will be deleted.*
- Cheerleading IS NOT THE SAME as critiquing. Please don't cheerlead.
- Having said that, it is perfectly acceptable to say positive things about an entry that you feel is strong. To make these positive comments more helpful, say why it's a strong entry.
- ENTRANTS: As your way of "giving back", please critique a minimum of 5 other entries.
*I can't possibly read every comment. If you ever see a comment that is truly snarky, please email me. I count on your help.
Grab My Heart #36
TITLE: Hunting Legends
GENRE: YA Urban Fantasy
Raid has no idea he’s falling for the girl of his nightmares when Azrielle, a human-cockatrice hybrid with a lethal gaze, infiltrates his elite squad of teenage monster hunters. Her objective is to stop the rising body count—not flirt with the enemy. If her identity is exposed, she’s dead.
Fastest way to a guy’s heart is a bullet between the third and fourth rib. Knife works too, but it’s slower, messier, and requires close range. I don’t need either. I’ve got something better.
Static crackles over the comm in my ear as I tail a group of humans creeping through the French Quarter ruins. If they see me, they’re dead. Dressed in black gear, the Venators think they blend with the dark as if night vision goggles aren’t a thing, glowing green in the middle of the road through my NVGs. They should know better than to hunt us in our territory. No way they’re reclaiming this city. It belongs to Legends, ‘monsters’ like me. More than eighty miles from the nearest functioning civilization, light pollution can’t touch us out in the Dead Zone.
Clouds cloak the sky, hiding the moon and stars, threatening luke-cold January rain. Won’t be enough to drop the temperature. Sweat collects at the nape of my neck, humidity weighing down the air in my lungs. I miss snow and ice.
These humans are all that stand between me and freedom. Seven bodies left. I already eliminated the other two units. Kills still fresh in my system, phantoms of their dying heartbeats echo in my chest. Finish this one last mission and my service debt—or rather my father’s—will be fulfilled. Do this and I’m done. No more Shade and their self-righteous crusade of noble intentions that lead straight to the graveyard.
GENRE: YA Urban Fantasy
Raid has no idea he’s falling for the girl of his nightmares when Azrielle, a human-cockatrice hybrid with a lethal gaze, infiltrates his elite squad of teenage monster hunters. Her objective is to stop the rising body count—not flirt with the enemy. If her identity is exposed, she’s dead.
Fastest way to a guy’s heart is a bullet between the third and fourth rib. Knife works too, but it’s slower, messier, and requires close range. I don’t need either. I’ve got something better.
Static crackles over the comm in my ear as I tail a group of humans creeping through the French Quarter ruins. If they see me, they’re dead. Dressed in black gear, the Venators think they blend with the dark as if night vision goggles aren’t a thing, glowing green in the middle of the road through my NVGs. They should know better than to hunt us in our territory. No way they’re reclaiming this city. It belongs to Legends, ‘monsters’ like me. More than eighty miles from the nearest functioning civilization, light pollution can’t touch us out in the Dead Zone.
Clouds cloak the sky, hiding the moon and stars, threatening luke-cold January rain. Won’t be enough to drop the temperature. Sweat collects at the nape of my neck, humidity weighing down the air in my lungs. I miss snow and ice.
These humans are all that stand between me and freedom. Seven bodies left. I already eliminated the other two units. Kills still fresh in my system, phantoms of their dying heartbeats echo in my chest. Finish this one last mission and my service debt—or rather my father’s—will be fulfilled. Do this and I’m done. No more Shade and their self-righteous crusade of noble intentions that lead straight to the graveyard.
Grab My Heart #35
TITLE: How to Save a Friend
GENRE: MG Contemporary
Sixth grade was supposed to give Felicity bravery. It gives her a mess. The new president of the Northern States wants to deport the ‘Southies’, immigrants from the Southern States.
Then Felicity gets in the middle of it. She makes friends with a wisecracking Southie named Madrid. Staying friends requires bravery—or foolhardiness, with the imminent deportation.
But she can’t just walk away.
HOW TO SAVE A FRIEND is middle-grade contemporary fiction with a twist. It is 40,000 words.
Some people say it began when the election did—when every person in the country heard and saw who was going for the top. Others say it started when the final candidates were picked, and the promises started to happen.
For me, it started when I came to breakfast one morning, following the smell of scrambled eggs. My parents were smiling, and I knew what had happened. I knew before I looked at the newspaper dangling from Dad’s grip. I knew before I read the blaring headline.
COREY BARDATOKEN WINS IN LANDSLIDE!
In presidential election, the country chooses The Honest Way.
It was my first real election, since I was seven during the last one. I was eleven then, my twelfth birthday drawing nearer as fifth grade drew to a close. But though I watched the men debate on television, I had no clue what was really going on. I barely knew who the candidates were, much less their campaigns.
My parents had voted for him. They thought he was the best option, and fooled themselves into thinking that meant good.
At my school, if the election came up at all, everyone would just say what their parents had said. Almost all the kids said their parents were voting for the Bard.
The Bard was his nickname.
GENRE: MG Contemporary
Sixth grade was supposed to give Felicity bravery. It gives her a mess. The new president of the Northern States wants to deport the ‘Southies’, immigrants from the Southern States.
Then Felicity gets in the middle of it. She makes friends with a wisecracking Southie named Madrid. Staying friends requires bravery—or foolhardiness, with the imminent deportation.
But she can’t just walk away.
HOW TO SAVE A FRIEND is middle-grade contemporary fiction with a twist. It is 40,000 words.
Some people say it began when the election did—when every person in the country heard and saw who was going for the top. Others say it started when the final candidates were picked, and the promises started to happen.
For me, it started when I came to breakfast one morning, following the smell of scrambled eggs. My parents were smiling, and I knew what had happened. I knew before I looked at the newspaper dangling from Dad’s grip. I knew before I read the blaring headline.
COREY BARDATOKEN WINS IN LANDSLIDE!
In presidential election, the country chooses The Honest Way.
It was my first real election, since I was seven during the last one. I was eleven then, my twelfth birthday drawing nearer as fifth grade drew to a close. But though I watched the men debate on television, I had no clue what was really going on. I barely knew who the candidates were, much less their campaigns.
My parents had voted for him. They thought he was the best option, and fooled themselves into thinking that meant good.
At my school, if the election came up at all, everyone would just say what their parents had said. Almost all the kids said their parents were voting for the Bard.
The Bard was his nickname.
Grab My Heart #34
TITLE: Next To Me
GENRE: YA Gothic Ghost
What if you made a promise to someone but 170 years later, you broke it?
A small blackboard sign outside O’Neill’s Irish Pub, on the opposite side of the road, caught my eye. It read: Trouble sleeping?
“Ah! Yer man? He’s proving right popular there today. Straight on and down the stairs,” he said pointing straight ahead. “Now, would ye care for a pint or a bit of carvery?”
“No, thank you,” we replied in unison.
Cautiously we made our way down a set of narrow wooden stairs and noticed the door at the bottom. The lighting was poor, and the bulb emanated a reddish glow that reminded me of an Indian restaurant we used to frequent regularly on Lexington Avenue that had since shut down. God, how I missed that butter chicken dish.
I put my hand to my nose; the stench of urine was overpowering. Mom made a sick face and pointed to a sign saying ‘toilets.’ Ugh.
Softly, Mom pushed down the handle of the door and stepped inside the room, I followed her and spied a massive man with his back to us. Empty cans from a party the night before littered the floor and the room stank of stale beer.
His black hair was shaved to the scalp and his head was shaped like a full moon. He rocked gently back and forth in a trance-like motion as he talked to someone behind a pillar; hidden from view. I could hear her soft sobs and I watched as he comforted her. I felt awkward. We stood there for a few minutes until Mom decided the stench was too awful to bear and stomped over to a chair not far from where the others sat.
The man instantly swung around to face us.
GENRE: YA Gothic Ghost
What if you made a promise to someone but 170 years later, you broke it?
A small blackboard sign outside O’Neill’s Irish Pub, on the opposite side of the road, caught my eye. It read: Trouble sleeping?
“Ah! Yer man? He’s proving right popular there today. Straight on and down the stairs,” he said pointing straight ahead. “Now, would ye care for a pint or a bit of carvery?”
“No, thank you,” we replied in unison.
Cautiously we made our way down a set of narrow wooden stairs and noticed the door at the bottom. The lighting was poor, and the bulb emanated a reddish glow that reminded me of an Indian restaurant we used to frequent regularly on Lexington Avenue that had since shut down. God, how I missed that butter chicken dish.
I put my hand to my nose; the stench of urine was overpowering. Mom made a sick face and pointed to a sign saying ‘toilets.’ Ugh.
Softly, Mom pushed down the handle of the door and stepped inside the room, I followed her and spied a massive man with his back to us. Empty cans from a party the night before littered the floor and the room stank of stale beer.
His black hair was shaved to the scalp and his head was shaped like a full moon. He rocked gently back and forth in a trance-like motion as he talked to someone behind a pillar; hidden from view. I could hear her soft sobs and I watched as he comforted her. I felt awkward. We stood there for a few minutes until Mom decided the stench was too awful to bear and stomped over to a chair not far from where the others sat.
The man instantly swung around to face us.
Grab My Heart #33
TITLE: The Quicksilver Conspiracy
GENRE: Adult Fantasy
When 16-year-old Kira’s best friend dies, Kira - convinced she is still alive - goes to the castle where she disappeared to rescue her. But to save her friend, Kira must kill an undead spirit, a choice that will destroy the magic protecting their city and Kira’s one chance to erase a memory she is desperate to forget.
“Come on, G. No one is going to die tonight.” Jerril Menkaure made another swipe for the ring of cast-iron keys, her electric blue nail polish leaving a trail of iridescent sparks in the dim sitting room.
Her goyle’s ears flattened against his head, and he hopped backwards, barring the way to the locked door her brother had strictly ordered her to stay away from. In his hard, dark eyes, the reflection of candle flames flickered.
“Nothing terrible happened when you broke me out of my room, did it? No monsters showed up then.”
Talons clutched the key ring tighter to the goyle’s chest. A string of harsh, staccato chirps burst from his mouth.
“But nothing’s here now. It’ll just take us a couple minutes in the library. In and out. I promise. If you can’t smell it -”
A fierce hiss startled her to silence.
“Yes, I know everything here stinks to you. But trust me, if it’s in there, it’ll smell worse than anything else. You can find it before she shows up.”
G’s eyes bulged, and with a snap, his leathery wings spread to their full span.
“So now you’re just going to leave me to do this alone? You know if Jord said to stay out, that’s a good sign this is where he’s hiding it.”
With an explosive pop, G shifted into a foot-high woman with long black hair, bloodshot eyes, and fangs curling over her lips.
GENRE: Adult Fantasy
When 16-year-old Kira’s best friend dies, Kira - convinced she is still alive - goes to the castle where she disappeared to rescue her. But to save her friend, Kira must kill an undead spirit, a choice that will destroy the magic protecting their city and Kira’s one chance to erase a memory she is desperate to forget.
“Come on, G. No one is going to die tonight.” Jerril Menkaure made another swipe for the ring of cast-iron keys, her electric blue nail polish leaving a trail of iridescent sparks in the dim sitting room.
Her goyle’s ears flattened against his head, and he hopped backwards, barring the way to the locked door her brother had strictly ordered her to stay away from. In his hard, dark eyes, the reflection of candle flames flickered.
“Nothing terrible happened when you broke me out of my room, did it? No monsters showed up then.”
Talons clutched the key ring tighter to the goyle’s chest. A string of harsh, staccato chirps burst from his mouth.
“But nothing’s here now. It’ll just take us a couple minutes in the library. In and out. I promise. If you can’t smell it -”
A fierce hiss startled her to silence.
“Yes, I know everything here stinks to you. But trust me, if it’s in there, it’ll smell worse than anything else. You can find it before she shows up.”
G’s eyes bulged, and with a snap, his leathery wings spread to their full span.
“So now you’re just going to leave me to do this alone? You know if Jord said to stay out, that’s a good sign this is where he’s hiding it.”
With an explosive pop, G shifted into a foot-high woman with long black hair, bloodshot eyes, and fangs curling over her lips.
Grab My Heart #32
TITLE: Strange Occurrences
GENRE: YA Fantasy
Spooky just wants to lay low and get through a program for delinquents. But boot camp exceeds her worst expectations when an ancient god emerges from the wilderness and kidnaps her for entertainment. She strikes a deal for her freedom that either kill her or deliver everything she’s ever wanted.
Something brushed Spooky’s elbow. Luke slipped a piece of paper into the palm of her hand.
A note. A passed note, like the ones she’d shuttered back and forth between two friends in her freshman year English class.
It was old school, but she couldn’t help but smile. The camp confiscated personal devices and restricted the use of pens, so this was the first message she’d received all summer. Luke would have had to think ahead about giving her this. She wanted to read his face as much as the words he had put on paper, but she kept her eyes trained on the front of the cafeteria.
“And that’s our inspirational quote for this evening!" Izeah Dodgson said into the mic. His bald head was as shiny as the lacquered wood floors that Spooky herself polished twice a week. "Now, I have one more announcement, and I don’t want anyone to be alarmed: last night's patrol came across an animal inside the fence. It was not definitively identified, but it was large enough to cause some concern. Now, now.” He raised his hands as if to quiet the room of campers, none of whom had made a sound. “This is exactly why we have the fence in the first place.”
The fence wasn’t really designed to keep things out. Spooky had seen the exposed bars and chain-link before her parents brought her through the gates. The plastic sheeting that made it impossible to climb only ran along the inside.
GENRE: YA Fantasy
Spooky just wants to lay low and get through a program for delinquents. But boot camp exceeds her worst expectations when an ancient god emerges from the wilderness and kidnaps her for entertainment. She strikes a deal for her freedom that either kill her or deliver everything she’s ever wanted.
Something brushed Spooky’s elbow. Luke slipped a piece of paper into the palm of her hand.
A note. A passed note, like the ones she’d shuttered back and forth between two friends in her freshman year English class.
It was old school, but she couldn’t help but smile. The camp confiscated personal devices and restricted the use of pens, so this was the first message she’d received all summer. Luke would have had to think ahead about giving her this. She wanted to read his face as much as the words he had put on paper, but she kept her eyes trained on the front of the cafeteria.
“And that’s our inspirational quote for this evening!" Izeah Dodgson said into the mic. His bald head was as shiny as the lacquered wood floors that Spooky herself polished twice a week. "Now, I have one more announcement, and I don’t want anyone to be alarmed: last night's patrol came across an animal inside the fence. It was not definitively identified, but it was large enough to cause some concern. Now, now.” He raised his hands as if to quiet the room of campers, none of whom had made a sound. “This is exactly why we have the fence in the first place.”
The fence wasn’t really designed to keep things out. Spooky had seen the exposed bars and chain-link before her parents brought her through the gates. The plastic sheeting that made it impossible to climb only ran along the inside.
Grab My Heart #31
TITLE: CANDLE IN THE WIND
GENRE: YA thriller, diverse
For most of her life, seventeen-year-old Espie Hernandez’s life has revolved around El Padre and the cult-like compound he rules. She prides herself on being loyal, and truly believes, as El Padre preaches, that those outside the compound, The Others, want to destroy them. But then she sees things that make her question El Padre. Soon she finds herself in the unthinkable situation of being banished from the compound forever unless she can bring proof of the weapons The Others are stockpiling to use against them. When she finds The Others she also finds that nothing is quite how it had been portrayed. Who is it that wants to use the weapons? The Others, or El Padre? Espie has to decide who to trust, her leader, or Phoenix, the Other boy who offers her kindness. Time is running out. As everything she’s been taught is torn apart, she still needs to find the strength to look inside for what really matters.
Why did I come again?
The old building creeped me out, but I had no idea that what was about to happen there would change my life, my whole world, forever. Weather-beaten, the wood sagged as if resigned to its fate. Shadows flirted through cracks in the boarded up windows. The house slumped in defeat. I shivered, pulling my hoodie closer but warmth eluded me. The desert nights were brutal even within El Compuesto, the compound where we were confined. My sister Xochil had snuck out earlier, which only increased the anxiety growing inside me.
No longer did it feel right to sneak out after curfew. Doubts resurfaced. Doubts I didn’t want to address. I only wanted to save my sister from doing something stupid.
Why did the leaders insist we had to share a vidcom?
GENRE: YA thriller, diverse
For most of her life, seventeen-year-old Espie Hernandez’s life has revolved around El Padre and the cult-like compound he rules. She prides herself on being loyal, and truly believes, as El Padre preaches, that those outside the compound, The Others, want to destroy them. But then she sees things that make her question El Padre. Soon she finds herself in the unthinkable situation of being banished from the compound forever unless she can bring proof of the weapons The Others are stockpiling to use against them. When she finds The Others she also finds that nothing is quite how it had been portrayed. Who is it that wants to use the weapons? The Others, or El Padre? Espie has to decide who to trust, her leader, or Phoenix, the Other boy who offers her kindness. Time is running out. As everything she’s been taught is torn apart, she still needs to find the strength to look inside for what really matters.
Why did I come again?
The old building creeped me out, but I had no idea that what was about to happen there would change my life, my whole world, forever. Weather-beaten, the wood sagged as if resigned to its fate. Shadows flirted through cracks in the boarded up windows. The house slumped in defeat. I shivered, pulling my hoodie closer but warmth eluded me. The desert nights were brutal even within El Compuesto, the compound where we were confined. My sister Xochil had snuck out earlier, which only increased the anxiety growing inside me.
No longer did it feel right to sneak out after curfew. Doubts resurfaced. Doubts I didn’t want to address. I only wanted to save my sister from doing something stupid.
Why did the leaders insist we had to share a vidcom?
Grab My Heart #30
TITLE: The Salem Witch Detectives
GENRE: Adult Fantasy
Merilyn Bookwright would prefer to hang the witch hunters plaguing Salem, but witches rarely get what they want in colonial New England. Yet the sheriffs searching for witches have forgotten the oldest wives' tale. Be careful what you wish for because you might just get it.
Merilyn Bookwright has never wanted to kill anyone, much less in front of her daughter, but the shout, "Be careful! There's a witch on the loose!" reminds her that neither God nor fate has ever shown much concern for her wishes. Taking them into her own hands, Merilyn pulls Gwenifer close, while the Puritans skitter away from the sheriffs, each person staring at their neighbors with expressions that all ask: "Who?"
For those few seconds, everyone is a suspect. Anyone could be next on the judges' list.
To lessen the chance she's put on it, Merilyn shrieks, "Please save us from the witch, Sheriff Corwin!" and faints alongside Gwenifer, who mimics her mother without instruction. It's what every witch learns before they can be trusted with magic. Although her daughter's heart beats hard enough for Merilyn to feel through her hug, Gwenifer wiggles forward to spy from beneath her bonnet as well.
The ever-smiling Sheriff Corwin and his team of witch hunters sweep past, checking the other women in the marketplace. The plain wool dress so many wear hides the wolf among the sheep until the accused reveals herself by running toward the docks.
"Don't let her reach a boat!" Sheriff Corwin says, charging after his prey, but even the largest sailors scatter before her, no more willing to fight a witch than a mouse would a serpent.
GENRE: Adult Fantasy
Merilyn Bookwright would prefer to hang the witch hunters plaguing Salem, but witches rarely get what they want in colonial New England. Yet the sheriffs searching for witches have forgotten the oldest wives' tale. Be careful what you wish for because you might just get it.
Merilyn Bookwright has never wanted to kill anyone, much less in front of her daughter, but the shout, "Be careful! There's a witch on the loose!" reminds her that neither God nor fate has ever shown much concern for her wishes. Taking them into her own hands, Merilyn pulls Gwenifer close, while the Puritans skitter away from the sheriffs, each person staring at their neighbors with expressions that all ask: "Who?"
For those few seconds, everyone is a suspect. Anyone could be next on the judges' list.
To lessen the chance she's put on it, Merilyn shrieks, "Please save us from the witch, Sheriff Corwin!" and faints alongside Gwenifer, who mimics her mother without instruction. It's what every witch learns before they can be trusted with magic. Although her daughter's heart beats hard enough for Merilyn to feel through her hug, Gwenifer wiggles forward to spy from beneath her bonnet as well.
The ever-smiling Sheriff Corwin and his team of witch hunters sweep past, checking the other women in the marketplace. The plain wool dress so many wear hides the wolf among the sheep until the accused reveals herself by running toward the docks.
"Don't let her reach a boat!" Sheriff Corwin says, charging after his prey, but even the largest sailors scatter before her, no more willing to fight a witch than a mouse would a serpent.
Grab My Heart #29
TITLE: TIME PASSAGES
GENRE: YA Contemporary Fantasy
ABOUT TIME + THE GOOD PLACE. With her guardian angel’s help, 16-year-old Gemma changes the past and saves her murdered boyfriend—but doesn’t anticipate bringing his killer back too. Now, she must thwart the murderer and reclaim her lost love before her old memories fade, along with her happy ending.
Exiting the BART station, I book it three blocks to the deli, late for work again. A breeze too cold for August blows in my face, making me hunch into my jacket, and low-hanging clouds, floating overhead like clumps of dirty cotton balls, do nothing to lighten my mood.
This early, the taquerias and fruit markets along Mission Street are still dark, but light glows from Poulsen’s Bakery. The delicious aroma drifting into the street reminds my stomach I skipped breakfast this morning. Baking bread and spices. Cinnamon.
A memory hits me. Ben and me and a bag of cinnamon rolls. “Still warm, Gemma.” Buttery and sweet, we cut first period to eat them in the park. A cop car drives by and we duck behind the picnic table, fingers entwined, choking back the laughter. It’s so vivid, I’m back there, feeling Ben’s cinnamon-scented breath on my cheek, tasting the sugar on his lips. Remembering feels like a stab to the gut now, raw and fresh, because Ben is gone.
“Good morning,”
The voice comes out of nowhere, jarring me back to the present. A boy pads along beside me. Tall and dark, a ring of keys jingles on his belt loop.
We’re alone on the street, with the deli still several doors down. I have zero interest in talking, so I smile, nod and walk faster. Take the hint, dude.
Nope. He quickens his pace to keep up. Why do boys think they can invade a girl’s space anytime they feel like it?
GENRE: YA Contemporary Fantasy
ABOUT TIME + THE GOOD PLACE. With her guardian angel’s help, 16-year-old Gemma changes the past and saves her murdered boyfriend—but doesn’t anticipate bringing his killer back too. Now, she must thwart the murderer and reclaim her lost love before her old memories fade, along with her happy ending.
Exiting the BART station, I book it three blocks to the deli, late for work again. A breeze too cold for August blows in my face, making me hunch into my jacket, and low-hanging clouds, floating overhead like clumps of dirty cotton balls, do nothing to lighten my mood.
This early, the taquerias and fruit markets along Mission Street are still dark, but light glows from Poulsen’s Bakery. The delicious aroma drifting into the street reminds my stomach I skipped breakfast this morning. Baking bread and spices. Cinnamon.
A memory hits me. Ben and me and a bag of cinnamon rolls. “Still warm, Gemma.” Buttery and sweet, we cut first period to eat them in the park. A cop car drives by and we duck behind the picnic table, fingers entwined, choking back the laughter. It’s so vivid, I’m back there, feeling Ben’s cinnamon-scented breath on my cheek, tasting the sugar on his lips. Remembering feels like a stab to the gut now, raw and fresh, because Ben is gone.
“Good morning,”
The voice comes out of nowhere, jarring me back to the present. A boy pads along beside me. Tall and dark, a ring of keys jingles on his belt loop.
We’re alone on the street, with the deli still several doors down. I have zero interest in talking, so I smile, nod and walk faster. Take the hint, dude.
Nope. He quickens his pace to keep up. Why do boys think they can invade a girl’s space anytime they feel like it?
Grab My Heart #28
TITLE: The Forgotten Name
GENRE: YA Fantasy
When Quinn Garner was ten years old, he traveled to another world and stole an evil king’s magic. Seven years later, Quinn is forced to return to face the king when he rises again. Only, Quinn has no memory of this other world or the strange magic he once controlled.
The King of Nightmares stared out at a crumbling world from the highest point of a castle in the sky, awaiting news from his spies that even then were scouring the world for signs of the thief. Savior they called him. Hero. As if he was anything more than a common thief, as if he’d done anything short of stealing their world, tossing them aside as if they were nothing.
The thief had come like any other, in the dark of the night. His legend spread fast and the world bent to his whims. The magic that the king had spread through the world – millions of dark threads that let him see and feel and hear everything, keeping the world and its people under his control – had slipped away. Not one by one. Not slowly, over time, as the king worked to keep them. But overnight. All at once. One day, he was ruler, king, god. The next… he was nothing.
The king’s fists tightened as he turned to pace. He would be nothing no longer. He was still weak, still without power, but he was so much more than a simple thief. He knew better now. Years had passed and he was stronger, smarter. He understood his enemy. He knew what he had to do. It’d all be so simple, in the end.
It was time for the king to rise again, and the thief — the hero — would lose this time.
GENRE: YA Fantasy
When Quinn Garner was ten years old, he traveled to another world and stole an evil king’s magic. Seven years later, Quinn is forced to return to face the king when he rises again. Only, Quinn has no memory of this other world or the strange magic he once controlled.
The King of Nightmares stared out at a crumbling world from the highest point of a castle in the sky, awaiting news from his spies that even then were scouring the world for signs of the thief. Savior they called him. Hero. As if he was anything more than a common thief, as if he’d done anything short of stealing their world, tossing them aside as if they were nothing.
The thief had come like any other, in the dark of the night. His legend spread fast and the world bent to his whims. The magic that the king had spread through the world – millions of dark threads that let him see and feel and hear everything, keeping the world and its people under his control – had slipped away. Not one by one. Not slowly, over time, as the king worked to keep them. But overnight. All at once. One day, he was ruler, king, god. The next… he was nothing.
The king’s fists tightened as he turned to pace. He would be nothing no longer. He was still weak, still without power, but he was so much more than a simple thief. He knew better now. Years had passed and he was stronger, smarter. He understood his enemy. He knew what he had to do. It’d all be so simple, in the end.
It was time for the king to rise again, and the thief — the hero — would lose this time.
Grab My Heart #27
TITLE: THE SORCERER'S WARNING
GENRE: MG Fantasy
After his mother’s death, 12-year-old Prince Agmund thinks life can't get any worse. He's wrong. When a sorcerer makes a blood-magic pact with a dead tyrant, Agmund endures racial slurs, his human father’s rejection, and his kingdom’s hatred. And if he helps others like him fight an enemy they can’t see? He could lose his life.
Prince Agmund waited while the fire’s warmth cloaked him in sweat, and an idea simmered inside his head: he hated his father. He took a shaky breath. “What do you mean I can’t see her?”
King Ulrich sat slumped against his throne, watching the glow fade from the only windows in the room. “We don’t know much about the ellyll. There are no guarantees her…illness…is not contagious.”
“Your healer hasn’t gotten sick.”
“He’s human, and I’m sure he is taking every precaution, as should you. You’re twelve, not a baby anymore. Think about what’s at stake.”
“It’s only a matter of time!”
King Ulrich closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. A low crackle in the fireplace broke the silence, but the king never moved. He sat that way for a long time before opening his eyes again.
“No.”
“Father, didn’t you hear me?” Agmund’s voice was a muffled squeak.
“There’s no need for you to visit. All she does is sleep.”
The king kept talking, but so much heat flooded Agmund’s body, he thought his head would explode. He bit his lip. That healer might do something for her, but he'd have to figure out why she was sick in the first place. Her people drew power from nature itself. They lived for centuries unless they died in battle or were grieving. She hadn’t been sad, had she? Agmund wiped his slick palms on his tunic, hoping it stained the fabric.
GENRE: MG Fantasy
After his mother’s death, 12-year-old Prince Agmund thinks life can't get any worse. He's wrong. When a sorcerer makes a blood-magic pact with a dead tyrant, Agmund endures racial slurs, his human father’s rejection, and his kingdom’s hatred. And if he helps others like him fight an enemy they can’t see? He could lose his life.
Prince Agmund waited while the fire’s warmth cloaked him in sweat, and an idea simmered inside his head: he hated his father. He took a shaky breath. “What do you mean I can’t see her?”
King Ulrich sat slumped against his throne, watching the glow fade from the only windows in the room. “We don’t know much about the ellyll. There are no guarantees her…illness…is not contagious.”
“Your healer hasn’t gotten sick.”
“He’s human, and I’m sure he is taking every precaution, as should you. You’re twelve, not a baby anymore. Think about what’s at stake.”
“It’s only a matter of time!”
King Ulrich closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. A low crackle in the fireplace broke the silence, but the king never moved. He sat that way for a long time before opening his eyes again.
“No.”
“Father, didn’t you hear me?” Agmund’s voice was a muffled squeak.
“There’s no need for you to visit. All she does is sleep.”
The king kept talking, but so much heat flooded Agmund’s body, he thought his head would explode. He bit his lip. That healer might do something for her, but he'd have to figure out why she was sick in the first place. Her people drew power from nature itself. They lived for centuries unless they died in battle or were grieving. She hadn’t been sad, had she? Agmund wiped his slick palms on his tunic, hoping it stained the fabric.
Grab My Heart #26
TITLE: Mirror Breaker
GENRE: YA Fantasy/Science Fiction
Emery Glass is a Mirror Maker. She can create a mirror and walk through the reflection into an alternate reality. To return, she simply breaks the mirror, and the reflection world ceases to exist. When Emery’s sister disappears in the Mirror World, Emery will do anything to find her: break the rules, design illegal mirrors, even face being exiled from the Ward.
My little brother, Gates, lied about me dying. Of course, it’s best everyone thinks I’m dead, and he’s smart enough to know that. Every week, they air my story on WatchBank. Sometimes it flashes twice a week on the com-screens distributed around The Shadows. Many of the sector’s worst criminals live there. I suppose they think I’m famous amongst the villains.
In the nicer areas of the ward, such as Glass Hill, it’s broadcast at least once a month on the cyber kiosks. It looks out of place mixed in with the stories that spotlight first-class citizens. Or the celebrity webcasts. That’s probably why they keep it minimal in these areas.
Other than high society gossip, the kiosks run government propaganda. Hype pieces about magic and the evil it brings. Abolition. Revolution. Segregation. Anti-succession. With elections coming soon, the political ads can drive even the kindest people over the edge.
Now that I’m a fugitive, I have to work on a new disguise. I hope I can come out of hiding soon and live life again. Being the most hated girl in the world isn’t easy. Well, maybe not the world, but it might as well as been the entire universe. That’s how I feel.
The sun glistens off the river. Early morning is my favorite time of day. Gates will be here with whatever food he’d scavenged from the table without notice. I somehow make every crumb count.
GENRE: YA Fantasy/Science Fiction
Emery Glass is a Mirror Maker. She can create a mirror and walk through the reflection into an alternate reality. To return, she simply breaks the mirror, and the reflection world ceases to exist. When Emery’s sister disappears in the Mirror World, Emery will do anything to find her: break the rules, design illegal mirrors, even face being exiled from the Ward.
My little brother, Gates, lied about me dying. Of course, it’s best everyone thinks I’m dead, and he’s smart enough to know that. Every week, they air my story on WatchBank. Sometimes it flashes twice a week on the com-screens distributed around The Shadows. Many of the sector’s worst criminals live there. I suppose they think I’m famous amongst the villains.
In the nicer areas of the ward, such as Glass Hill, it’s broadcast at least once a month on the cyber kiosks. It looks out of place mixed in with the stories that spotlight first-class citizens. Or the celebrity webcasts. That’s probably why they keep it minimal in these areas.
Other than high society gossip, the kiosks run government propaganda. Hype pieces about magic and the evil it brings. Abolition. Revolution. Segregation. Anti-succession. With elections coming soon, the political ads can drive even the kindest people over the edge.
Now that I’m a fugitive, I have to work on a new disguise. I hope I can come out of hiding soon and live life again. Being the most hated girl in the world isn’t easy. Well, maybe not the world, but it might as well as been the entire universe. That’s how I feel.
The sun glistens off the river. Early morning is my favorite time of day. Gates will be here with whatever food he’d scavenged from the table without notice. I somehow make every crumb count.
Grab My Heart #25
TITLE: DEREK HYDE KNOWS SPOOKY WHEN HE SEES IT
GENRE: MG Paranormal
ADDAMS FAMILY meets GHOSTBUSTERS when twelve-year-old Derek confronts headless ghosts at Hyde’s Funeral Home & Used Coffin Outlet run by his mortician parents, Jack and Formalda. The ghosts' young son wants revenge for losing his haunted home, while Derek desperately tries to keep out of the embalming room—as a client.
There are far worse things in life than being raised in a funeral home. For example… um…
Okay, here’s one. You could have your brains eaten alive and slurped down by cranky, overworked zombies who haven’t had their morning coffee.
Or how about this? You could be stuffed into a spin dryer at Leo’s Laundromat & Hideous Stain Removal Service and set to Extra Dry/Huge Load.
But Derek Hyde wasn’t eaten and he definitely wasn’t spin dried, either. Just driven to the narcoleptic town of Littleburp in the family car (actually, an old yellow school bus), and then to a really unfortunate and grossly undesirable address: 1313 Slimeytoes Lane.
As the bus splashed its way through a beautifully timed thunderstorm on the worst day of Derek’s life (so far), his mom and dad worked at keeping his spirits up by singing their favorite, most embarrassing song: Poopy Head, Poopy Head, Don’t You Be a Poopy Head.
It didn’t help.
It was bad enough his parents dragged Derek out of his seventh grade class and away from all his friends to limp across the country in a broken-down bus on this Journey to Nowhere. Much worse was the notion of moving him into a spooky old manor house they planned to convert into a funeral home.
Because his parents were funeral directors. Morticians. Undertakers.
On this blustery autumn day, Derek watched through rain-streaked windows as they screeched to a halt in front of the scariest mansion he’d ever seen.
It had towers. With turrets.
GENRE: MG Paranormal
ADDAMS FAMILY meets GHOSTBUSTERS when twelve-year-old Derek confronts headless ghosts at Hyde’s Funeral Home & Used Coffin Outlet run by his mortician parents, Jack and Formalda. The ghosts' young son wants revenge for losing his haunted home, while Derek desperately tries to keep out of the embalming room—as a client.
There are far worse things in life than being raised in a funeral home. For example… um…
Okay, here’s one. You could have your brains eaten alive and slurped down by cranky, overworked zombies who haven’t had their morning coffee.
Or how about this? You could be stuffed into a spin dryer at Leo’s Laundromat & Hideous Stain Removal Service and set to Extra Dry/Huge Load.
But Derek Hyde wasn’t eaten and he definitely wasn’t spin dried, either. Just driven to the narcoleptic town of Littleburp in the family car (actually, an old yellow school bus), and then to a really unfortunate and grossly undesirable address: 1313 Slimeytoes Lane.
As the bus splashed its way through a beautifully timed thunderstorm on the worst day of Derek’s life (so far), his mom and dad worked at keeping his spirits up by singing their favorite, most embarrassing song: Poopy Head, Poopy Head, Don’t You Be a Poopy Head.
It didn’t help.
It was bad enough his parents dragged Derek out of his seventh grade class and away from all his friends to limp across the country in a broken-down bus on this Journey to Nowhere. Much worse was the notion of moving him into a spooky old manor house they planned to convert into a funeral home.
Because his parents were funeral directors. Morticians. Undertakers.
On this blustery autumn day, Derek watched through rain-streaked windows as they screeched to a halt in front of the scariest mansion he’d ever seen.
It had towers. With turrets.
Grab My Heart #24
TITLE: Seeking Stanley Derringer
GENRE: YA Romance
After Tab’s crush crushes her, she dreams of a boy who’s desperate to find her, discovers he’s alive, and sets off to find him. SEEKING STANLEY DERRINGER is Jane The Virgin meets the Holy Grail quest, a YA romance set in a Berkeley alternative school and a Detroit garage.
It was the end of a Sunday lunch shift at Tia’s Tacos. I watched two women linger over a shared enchilada. I tried not to stare at the one with her back to me, tattooed up to her sleeveless tee, who tenderly fed the last forkful to a woman holding a baby.
What was wrong with me? I didn’t want a baby. What did they have that I didn’t have?
Oh, yeah. Each other. Someone to love. A soul mate. In other words, everything.
“May I?” I asked the couple as I reached for their empty plate. I laid the check in the middle of the table. The woman holding the baby tucked her into a fabric sling.
“Your baby’s so cute,” I said. “What’s her name? Or his?”
“Harmony,” the baby woman said. She eyed my thumb as my hand passed in front of her face. I could always tell when somebody noticed. My thumbs were shaped like little square paddles because of brachydactyly, an inherited trait. Mom thought I got it from my bio dad but I’d never met him so I never really knew.
Tia watched from the door to the kitchen. Her arms strained with the weight of a full bin of mole sauce. She groaned as she plonked it on the prep counter.
“I can do that! Sit down!” I hurried to fill bins like I was supposed to between customers. Instead, I’d been reading Parzival, about a naive knight on a quest.
GENRE: YA Romance
After Tab’s crush crushes her, she dreams of a boy who’s desperate to find her, discovers he’s alive, and sets off to find him. SEEKING STANLEY DERRINGER is Jane The Virgin meets the Holy Grail quest, a YA romance set in a Berkeley alternative school and a Detroit garage.
It was the end of a Sunday lunch shift at Tia’s Tacos. I watched two women linger over a shared enchilada. I tried not to stare at the one with her back to me, tattooed up to her sleeveless tee, who tenderly fed the last forkful to a woman holding a baby.
What was wrong with me? I didn’t want a baby. What did they have that I didn’t have?
Oh, yeah. Each other. Someone to love. A soul mate. In other words, everything.
“May I?” I asked the couple as I reached for their empty plate. I laid the check in the middle of the table. The woman holding the baby tucked her into a fabric sling.
“Your baby’s so cute,” I said. “What’s her name? Or his?”
“Harmony,” the baby woman said. She eyed my thumb as my hand passed in front of her face. I could always tell when somebody noticed. My thumbs were shaped like little square paddles because of brachydactyly, an inherited trait. Mom thought I got it from my bio dad but I’d never met him so I never really knew.
Tia watched from the door to the kitchen. Her arms strained with the weight of a full bin of mole sauce. She groaned as she plonked it on the prep counter.
“I can do that! Sit down!” I hurried to fill bins like I was supposed to between customers. Instead, I’d been reading Parzival, about a naive knight on a quest.
Grab My Heart #22
TITLE: BOUND BY EARTH
GENRE: YA Fantasy
Seventeen-year-old Zaina has no desire to leave her tribal home. Staying means she can spend more time with an afrit named Tasdemir, the elemental earth spirit who protects the valley where she lives. But then Tasdemir disappears, throwing the valley’s natural balance into chaos. If Zaina can recover the afrit, she may be able to save her tribe and the valley.
The tree was full of goats.
Zaina locked eyes with the closest, a male who was perched several feet above her head on a thorny branch, chewing his cud and glaring at her balefully.
Zaina matched the heat and disgust in his gaze with her own. “Get down.”
The goat considered her command, pausing in his methodical chewing. It was all the warning she received. Moments later, he spat haughtily in her direction.
Zaina ducked, missing being pelted by a whistling kali seed by inches, but she was not quick enough to evade the rest of the cud. The slobbery, oozing mess landed on her shoulder, coating the ends of the scarf she had wrapped around her hair. Zaina wrinkled her nose as the glob slid lower, onto her sleeve. It was pungent, the odor made stronger by the heat of the sun overhead.
Planting her feet in the dusty ground, Zaina threw her head back and met the goat’s eye again. A giggle at her elbow drew her attention away from her quarry, and she turned her hard glare on a new victim.
Her younger sister lifted her chin in response and didn’t wilt like Zaina was hoping. “Were you expecting something different to happen?”
Zaina bit her tongue and stomped over to the lowest branches, brushing her stained shoulder and scarf as she did so. “Let’s try something else.”
GENRE: YA Fantasy
Seventeen-year-old Zaina has no desire to leave her tribal home. Staying means she can spend more time with an afrit named Tasdemir, the elemental earth spirit who protects the valley where she lives. But then Tasdemir disappears, throwing the valley’s natural balance into chaos. If Zaina can recover the afrit, she may be able to save her tribe and the valley.
The tree was full of goats.
Zaina locked eyes with the closest, a male who was perched several feet above her head on a thorny branch, chewing his cud and glaring at her balefully.
Zaina matched the heat and disgust in his gaze with her own. “Get down.”
The goat considered her command, pausing in his methodical chewing. It was all the warning she received. Moments later, he spat haughtily in her direction.
Zaina ducked, missing being pelted by a whistling kali seed by inches, but she was not quick enough to evade the rest of the cud. The slobbery, oozing mess landed on her shoulder, coating the ends of the scarf she had wrapped around her hair. Zaina wrinkled her nose as the glob slid lower, onto her sleeve. It was pungent, the odor made stronger by the heat of the sun overhead.
Planting her feet in the dusty ground, Zaina threw her head back and met the goat’s eye again. A giggle at her elbow drew her attention away from her quarry, and she turned her hard glare on a new victim.
Her younger sister lifted her chin in response and didn’t wilt like Zaina was hoping. “Were you expecting something different to happen?”
Zaina bit her tongue and stomped over to the lowest branches, brushing her stained shoulder and scarf as she did so. “Let’s try something else.”
Grab My Heart #21
TITLE: Violet Ray and The Magnetic Pole Reversal
GENRE: MG Science Fiction
When a cosmic event crashes the Earth’s power grid, a young scientist and humanoid cat must stop invaders from destroying their island to control the world’s energy.
Violet woke with a snort. She sat up and looked at her hands. The same. She pulled up her sleeves. Her arms had the same orange freckles and dark brown skin. Maybe…she took a quick peek under her shirt. Not yet.
Jumping out of the large clamshell bed, she ran into her dressing room. She threw off a dirty lab coat hung on the mirror and looked intently. She bared her teeth and stared with big, green eyes at her freckled face and unruly purple hair. Tying her hair on top of her head, she turned away. Nothing has changed!
Disappointed, she grabbed the closest lab coat on the floor and slipped into sneakers. Putting her pants over the shoes proved cumbersome. When she stopped to take off the shoes first, she thought, There’s still the whole day! Maybe something will happen when her mother was there. She liked to observe everything “to experience the science.” Violet was used to being examined every minute of the day.
Bounding down the DNA spiral stairs, she spotted her mother’s black-haired topknot in the lab and ran over to her.
“Good morning!” Violet said cheerfully, scanning the dozens of beakers on the silver lab table. She picked up a beaker with shimmery ooze moving slowly around inside. “This is almost ready.”
Her mother, wearing a crisp, white lab coat looked over Violet’s crumpled lab coat with a wild print of amoebas before she took the beaker. “No working today. I have a surprise.”
GENRE: MG Science Fiction
When a cosmic event crashes the Earth’s power grid, a young scientist and humanoid cat must stop invaders from destroying their island to control the world’s energy.
Violet woke with a snort. She sat up and looked at her hands. The same. She pulled up her sleeves. Her arms had the same orange freckles and dark brown skin. Maybe…she took a quick peek under her shirt. Not yet.
Jumping out of the large clamshell bed, she ran into her dressing room. She threw off a dirty lab coat hung on the mirror and looked intently. She bared her teeth and stared with big, green eyes at her freckled face and unruly purple hair. Tying her hair on top of her head, she turned away. Nothing has changed!
Disappointed, she grabbed the closest lab coat on the floor and slipped into sneakers. Putting her pants over the shoes proved cumbersome. When she stopped to take off the shoes first, she thought, There’s still the whole day! Maybe something will happen when her mother was there. She liked to observe everything “to experience the science.” Violet was used to being examined every minute of the day.
Bounding down the DNA spiral stairs, she spotted her mother’s black-haired topknot in the lab and ran over to her.
“Good morning!” Violet said cheerfully, scanning the dozens of beakers on the silver lab table. She picked up a beaker with shimmery ooze moving slowly around inside. “This is almost ready.”
Her mother, wearing a crisp, white lab coat looked over Violet’s crumpled lab coat with a wild print of amoebas before she took the beaker. “No working today. I have a surprise.”
Grab My Heart #20
TITLE: Forgotten Love
GENRE: Adult Romance
Summer Hamilton wants to start over, but her panic attacks and flashbacks from an accident haunt her. When Rafe Bryant strolls into her life, she knows the hot biker is trouble. But at every turn, he’s there, and the sparks between them are irresistible, until she remembers her forgotten love.
Laughter filled the Italian bistro La Rosa’s in the North End of Boston along with the mouthwatering odors of garlic and tomatoes making Summer Hamilton’s stomach rumble. Sipping her iced water, she eyed the menu for the hundredth time. She knew exactly what she wanted because she was a creature of habit and loved chicken parmesan, but she held off giving her order waiting for her husband to arrive. Replacing her glass on the small white linen covered table, she twisted her wrist to study her Rolex—he was late, very late.
Surveying the various tables, she passed the time playing a game imagining the stories behind each group or couple near her at the popular restaurant where glasses clinked in celebration. She idly picked out a shy couple on a romantic date looking nervous, a couple celebrating their first wedding anniversary eyes glued on each other oblivious to their surroundings, and large families celebrating a birthday—all making memories. Rolling her wedding band around her finger, she wondered if tonight would be a good memory, a year from now.
Organizing this evening was her last attempt to salvage her marriage, and yet again, she sat alone uncertain as to whether he would even bother to arrive. Pulling her phone from her purse, she clicked to check if there were any messages—nothing. Outside the rain splattered on the steamy glass window and people charged down the sidewalk carrying umbrella’s trying to avoid getting soaked.
GENRE: Adult Romance
Summer Hamilton wants to start over, but her panic attacks and flashbacks from an accident haunt her. When Rafe Bryant strolls into her life, she knows the hot biker is trouble. But at every turn, he’s there, and the sparks between them are irresistible, until she remembers her forgotten love.
Laughter filled the Italian bistro La Rosa’s in the North End of Boston along with the mouthwatering odors of garlic and tomatoes making Summer Hamilton’s stomach rumble. Sipping her iced water, she eyed the menu for the hundredth time. She knew exactly what she wanted because she was a creature of habit and loved chicken parmesan, but she held off giving her order waiting for her husband to arrive. Replacing her glass on the small white linen covered table, she twisted her wrist to study her Rolex—he was late, very late.
Surveying the various tables, she passed the time playing a game imagining the stories behind each group or couple near her at the popular restaurant where glasses clinked in celebration. She idly picked out a shy couple on a romantic date looking nervous, a couple celebrating their first wedding anniversary eyes glued on each other oblivious to their surroundings, and large families celebrating a birthday—all making memories. Rolling her wedding band around her finger, she wondered if tonight would be a good memory, a year from now.
Organizing this evening was her last attempt to salvage her marriage, and yet again, she sat alone uncertain as to whether he would even bother to arrive. Pulling her phone from her purse, she clicked to check if there were any messages—nothing. Outside the rain splattered on the steamy glass window and people charged down the sidewalk carrying umbrella’s trying to avoid getting soaked.
Grab My Heart #19
TITLE: V.O.L.T.
GENRE: YA FANTASY
Throttled with grief from her boyfriend’s death, Seventeen-year-old Sam is given an opportunity to see him in an eccentric city called VOLT but as she sets out, with two other teens grieving lost ones, the lies that hold her life together sabotage her efforts to find him.
My fingers caress the nearest cloud to me. The wisps of cottony fluff are the gentlest texture imaginable. Beauty this resplendent is reserved for those who see the world in its true form - through shards of distorted glass, through shrieks of light and darkness, through chaos, and madness.
This is my existence. My reality is wrapped in white, soft all over, and a cacophony of sounds assault me. Yet, it’s silent at the same time.
A pink fleshed baby piglet wiggles its twisted tail to where I sit. My lips part in a strain to smile. Except the task is too great. My mouth collapses back to nothing as I sit perched on the billowy cloud.
A consuming pain shatters the peace around me. It’s a razor slicing through delicate skin, drawing crimson droplets so bright it aches to look away.
My cloud dissipates into a fine mist. I contemplate what’s before me.
I stand, nearly nose-dive to the wood floor in my living room, but straighten before I collide. With my long legs, I pace from the black sofa to the bay window overlooking the front of our house.
I peer out for the tenth time in the span of a few minutes. The lawn is bare and in need of watering. Dying from lack of nutrients and care. Weeds suffocate the delicate fuchsia flowers that once blossomed like proud exhibitions of beauty that once lay inside the house.
I’m hopeful Ryan’s beaten-up car will come spluttering to a stop in our circular driveway.
GENRE: YA FANTASY
Throttled with grief from her boyfriend’s death, Seventeen-year-old Sam is given an opportunity to see him in an eccentric city called VOLT but as she sets out, with two other teens grieving lost ones, the lies that hold her life together sabotage her efforts to find him.
My fingers caress the nearest cloud to me. The wisps of cottony fluff are the gentlest texture imaginable. Beauty this resplendent is reserved for those who see the world in its true form - through shards of distorted glass, through shrieks of light and darkness, through chaos, and madness.
This is my existence. My reality is wrapped in white, soft all over, and a cacophony of sounds assault me. Yet, it’s silent at the same time.
A pink fleshed baby piglet wiggles its twisted tail to where I sit. My lips part in a strain to smile. Except the task is too great. My mouth collapses back to nothing as I sit perched on the billowy cloud.
A consuming pain shatters the peace around me. It’s a razor slicing through delicate skin, drawing crimson droplets so bright it aches to look away.
My cloud dissipates into a fine mist. I contemplate what’s before me.
I stand, nearly nose-dive to the wood floor in my living room, but straighten before I collide. With my long legs, I pace from the black sofa to the bay window overlooking the front of our house.
I peer out for the tenth time in the span of a few minutes. The lawn is bare and in need of watering. Dying from lack of nutrients and care. Weeds suffocate the delicate fuchsia flowers that once blossomed like proud exhibitions of beauty that once lay inside the house.
I’m hopeful Ryan’s beaten-up car will come spluttering to a stop in our circular driveway.
Grab My Heart #18
TITLE: The Case of the Cat Crazy Lady
GENRE: Adult Cozy Mystery
The Case of the Cat Crazy Lady, the first of a proposed series, is a completed 73,000-word cozy mystery featuring cat lover and animal shelter/Pet cemetery owner Cathy Carter.
After Buttercup Bend's "Cat Crazy Lady," Maggie Broom, is smothered to death in her home, Cathy is stunned to learn that the animal shelter and pet cemetery she co-owns with her brother Doug is the recipient of the bulk of Maggie's sizable estate. Cathy and her reporter friend, Nancy Meyers, set out to solve the murder.
Cathy stood before the tiny tombstone, a bouquet of spring flowers clutched in her hands. She bent down, tears in her eyes, to read the inscription: “Here lies Floppy, beloved cat of Catherine Carter. Until we meet again on Rainbow Bridge. 2003-2015.”
Placing the flowers on the ground in front of the stone, she wiped her eyes with a tissue she took from the pocket of her blue cardigan. Growing up with cats and dogs and now being part owner of a pet cemetery, Cathy was familiar with the deep pain of losing a special animal friend. The handsome gray and white cat she’d had since the age of twelve left special pawprints on her heart. She would never forget Floppy.
She turned as she heard a low rustle. Glancing behind, she saw it was Oliver, the elderly Siamese she adopted two years ago after his ninety-year old owner died.
Oliver approached on his cocoa paws. He let out a loud meow. It echoed through the quiet cemetery. She patted his head as he rubbed against her calf. She felt his touch through the legs of her jeans.
“What are you doing out here, Oliver?” She was sure she’d closed the door behind her of the small house she shared with her grandmother.
GENRE: Adult Cozy Mystery
The Case of the Cat Crazy Lady, the first of a proposed series, is a completed 73,000-word cozy mystery featuring cat lover and animal shelter/Pet cemetery owner Cathy Carter.
After Buttercup Bend's "Cat Crazy Lady," Maggie Broom, is smothered to death in her home, Cathy is stunned to learn that the animal shelter and pet cemetery she co-owns with her brother Doug is the recipient of the bulk of Maggie's sizable estate. Cathy and her reporter friend, Nancy Meyers, set out to solve the murder.
Cathy stood before the tiny tombstone, a bouquet of spring flowers clutched in her hands. She bent down, tears in her eyes, to read the inscription: “Here lies Floppy, beloved cat of Catherine Carter. Until we meet again on Rainbow Bridge. 2003-2015.”
Placing the flowers on the ground in front of the stone, she wiped her eyes with a tissue she took from the pocket of her blue cardigan. Growing up with cats and dogs and now being part owner of a pet cemetery, Cathy was familiar with the deep pain of losing a special animal friend. The handsome gray and white cat she’d had since the age of twelve left special pawprints on her heart. She would never forget Floppy.
She turned as she heard a low rustle. Glancing behind, she saw it was Oliver, the elderly Siamese she adopted two years ago after his ninety-year old owner died.
Oliver approached on his cocoa paws. He let out a loud meow. It echoed through the quiet cemetery. She patted his head as he rubbed against her calf. She felt his touch through the legs of her jeans.
“What are you doing out here, Oliver?” She was sure she’d closed the door behind her of the small house she shared with her grandmother.
Grab My Heart #17
TITLE: KING BLUEBEARD
GENRE: YA Fantasy
A young seamstress works for pennies in an impoverished town bordering the Forgotten Forest. When the infamous Monk within the forest, discovers her magic, he strikes a deal with her to train with him. Arwei studies with two other students and realizes the Mage isn't who he appears to be.
Arwei narrowed her eyes and widened them, trying to discern why there were so many various colored auras in the marketplace that afternoon. The light was blinding from the yellow orb in the sky and the scent of burning bread wafted through the air.
What was it that her stepmother had wanted her to pick up so desperately for that evening? Surely not Papa’s medicine. Arwei winced as she remembered how her stepmother had forgotten that her Father had run out of his herbs for his ailments. The doctors were not sure what Kinton had but they said he was not faring well and absolutely needed it. She remembered the stern voice of the doctor who peered down at them with raven eyes. “If he does not get his medicine he will die within the month.”
Arwei peered down the street, her thoughts elsewhere. The market of Shaolin was bustling that afternoon. Red-faced delivery boys raced through the throngs of people, their packages held high above their little heads.
Strange accents wrapped around her ears, slipping past her in silken robes the color of emerald. The neighboring town's inhabitants were there. Great. There would be plenty of street fights later.
"Scuse me Madam!"
She peered to her left where a toothy old man winked at her. "What do you say you help an old man with a trick?" In his hands were dusty painted cards with symbols of the moon, sun, and dove.
"Not another mage's trick," Arwei waved her hand in the air between them, frowning.
GENRE: YA Fantasy
A young seamstress works for pennies in an impoverished town bordering the Forgotten Forest. When the infamous Monk within the forest, discovers her magic, he strikes a deal with her to train with him. Arwei studies with two other students and realizes the Mage isn't who he appears to be.
Arwei narrowed her eyes and widened them, trying to discern why there were so many various colored auras in the marketplace that afternoon. The light was blinding from the yellow orb in the sky and the scent of burning bread wafted through the air.
What was it that her stepmother had wanted her to pick up so desperately for that evening? Surely not Papa’s medicine. Arwei winced as she remembered how her stepmother had forgotten that her Father had run out of his herbs for his ailments. The doctors were not sure what Kinton had but they said he was not faring well and absolutely needed it. She remembered the stern voice of the doctor who peered down at them with raven eyes. “If he does not get his medicine he will die within the month.”
Arwei peered down the street, her thoughts elsewhere. The market of Shaolin was bustling that afternoon. Red-faced delivery boys raced through the throngs of people, their packages held high above their little heads.
Strange accents wrapped around her ears, slipping past her in silken robes the color of emerald. The neighboring town's inhabitants were there. Great. There would be plenty of street fights later.
"Scuse me Madam!"
She peered to her left where a toothy old man winked at her. "What do you say you help an old man with a trick?" In his hands were dusty painted cards with symbols of the moon, sun, and dove.
"Not another mage's trick," Arwei waved her hand in the air between them, frowning.
Grab My Heart #16
TITLE: WINGFINGER
GENRE: MG Fantasy
To save Dragon Valley from human invasion, Wingfinger, a misfit dragon must find the strength to believe in himself or lose his beloved homeland.
All summer, Wingfinger dreaded this day. It was the first session of his Level II training, and he’d be tested on his flying and fire-spewing skills. He’d rather stay home and read myth scrolls; actually, he’d even prefer to clean out the latrine, but training was mandatory.
As soon as he arrived, his stomach in knots, he noticed an unsettling smell. The foul odor grabbed the scent glands on the roof of his mouth, and he covered his nostrils with his myth scroll. His long snout puckered. EW! Smells like rotten gryphon eggs.
Branches crackled. A red and bronze figure moved in the forest surrounding the north end of the village green. He squinted and lifted his golden wing, straining to identify the oddity amid the dense trees surrounding Dragon Valley.
Nothing.
Wingfinger shrugged and stuffed the scroll back into his side-pouch. He straightened out his wings, puny even for a Wyvern dragon, and turned away from the thick patch of tangled trees. He inhaled deeply; the odor assaulted his nose and made his eyes water.
Flap-flap. Flap-flap. Flap-flap. Three dragons looped and twirled above Wingfinger’s head. A long-snouted Dreki with backward curling hopper horns, dropped down and shot flames at the other dragons. Fireballs blazed through the air. A Colchian retaliated, his three tongues sputtering whirlwind flashes of fire as he bobbed his crested head.
Wingfinger perked-up his ear flaps. “Hey!” He shook his longer wing to get their attention, but none of the dragons waved back.
GENRE: MG Fantasy
To save Dragon Valley from human invasion, Wingfinger, a misfit dragon must find the strength to believe in himself or lose his beloved homeland.
All summer, Wingfinger dreaded this day. It was the first session of his Level II training, and he’d be tested on his flying and fire-spewing skills. He’d rather stay home and read myth scrolls; actually, he’d even prefer to clean out the latrine, but training was mandatory.
As soon as he arrived, his stomach in knots, he noticed an unsettling smell. The foul odor grabbed the scent glands on the roof of his mouth, and he covered his nostrils with his myth scroll. His long snout puckered. EW! Smells like rotten gryphon eggs.
Branches crackled. A red and bronze figure moved in the forest surrounding the north end of the village green. He squinted and lifted his golden wing, straining to identify the oddity amid the dense trees surrounding Dragon Valley.
Nothing.
Wingfinger shrugged and stuffed the scroll back into his side-pouch. He straightened out his wings, puny even for a Wyvern dragon, and turned away from the thick patch of tangled trees. He inhaled deeply; the odor assaulted his nose and made his eyes water.
Flap-flap. Flap-flap. Flap-flap. Three dragons looped and twirled above Wingfinger’s head. A long-snouted Dreki with backward curling hopper horns, dropped down and shot flames at the other dragons. Fireballs blazed through the air. A Colchian retaliated, his three tongues sputtering whirlwind flashes of fire as he bobbed his crested head.
Wingfinger perked-up his ear flaps. “Hey!” He shook his longer wing to get their attention, but none of the dragons waved back.
Grab My Heart #15
TITLE: Lifelines
GENRE: MG Magic realism
Mel, living in a preternatural community hidden within the ordinary world, believes she’s an unskilled Middling until an encounter with a menacing Time Winder reveals she shares a weakened version of his gift. Can she rewind time to rescue her Middling mother who died when Mel was a small child?
The plaque on the door of the brownstone announced the office of Psychologist, Jerry K. Hutchins, PhD. Mel ran her finger across the raised raven below the doctor’s name. The Council trademark stared back at her as if to ask, Are you one of us?
“Dr. Hutchins runs a psychology practice for ordinary people when he isn’t busy testing Preets,” her stepmother assured Mel, for the third time that day.
When adults used the word Preet—a slang term invented by kids who wanted to shorten the tongue-twisting Preternatural—it sounded ridiculous. But Mel was too nervous to laugh right now. She glanced at her sneakers, dirty and beat-up next to Susanna’s shiny blue heels.
Her stepmother lifted the brass knocker, careful to protect her nails. Three taps echoed inside the house.
“No matter how this turns out, you’ll be fine,” Susanna said, as if Mel would be the one to melt like cotton candy in a rainstorm if she was deemed an ordinary middling. Almost all Preets discovered their gifts by the age of five. Mel was almost thirteen. No, this day was for her stepmother, not herself. Time for Susanna to face reality.
The door opened a crack, revealing a single bespectacled eye. Susanna gave the Preternatural wave—five splayed fingers that closed into a fist. Dr. Hutchins flung the door the rest of the way open. “Welcome to my humble office, Randall family!” He pumped Mel’s hand. “You, my dear, must be Melanie.”
“Mel,” she said.
GENRE: MG Magic realism
Mel, living in a preternatural community hidden within the ordinary world, believes she’s an unskilled Middling until an encounter with a menacing Time Winder reveals she shares a weakened version of his gift. Can she rewind time to rescue her Middling mother who died when Mel was a small child?
The plaque on the door of the brownstone announced the office of Psychologist, Jerry K. Hutchins, PhD. Mel ran her finger across the raised raven below the doctor’s name. The Council trademark stared back at her as if to ask, Are you one of us?
“Dr. Hutchins runs a psychology practice for ordinary people when he isn’t busy testing Preets,” her stepmother assured Mel, for the third time that day.
When adults used the word Preet—a slang term invented by kids who wanted to shorten the tongue-twisting Preternatural—it sounded ridiculous. But Mel was too nervous to laugh right now. She glanced at her sneakers, dirty and beat-up next to Susanna’s shiny blue heels.
Her stepmother lifted the brass knocker, careful to protect her nails. Three taps echoed inside the house.
“No matter how this turns out, you’ll be fine,” Susanna said, as if Mel would be the one to melt like cotton candy in a rainstorm if she was deemed an ordinary middling. Almost all Preets discovered their gifts by the age of five. Mel was almost thirteen. No, this day was for her stepmother, not herself. Time for Susanna to face reality.
The door opened a crack, revealing a single bespectacled eye. Susanna gave the Preternatural wave—five splayed fingers that closed into a fist. Dr. Hutchins flung the door the rest of the way open. “Welcome to my humble office, Randall family!” He pumped Mel’s hand. “You, my dear, must be Melanie.”
“Mel,” she said.
Grab My Heart #14
TITLE: ORIGIN OF THE OTHERS
GENRE: Adult Science Fiction
After her sister is taken by a covert group of humans, a celestial named Essence avenges her by taking one of them, only to find that the human she captured may be the key to getting her kind off this wayward planet—a Beauty and the Beast meets Arrival retelling.
In two hundred thirteen years, Essence had never killed a human. The thought of ending such a delicate life brought on a crippling nausea. The back of her jaw clenched, rot gripped her throat. But now, shivering against the metal plank, weaponized vapors burning her lungs, she knew one thing—death came for all.
Down the concrete corridor outside her cell, a heavy door scratched at its hinges and rattled open. Soldiers dragged a woman along. The scrappy push and pull of resistance clanged in a lopsided rhythm. Someone limped. Maybe it was the captive, maybe it was one of the soldiers.
The unit stopped at an empty cell and aluminum batons shoved the woman in. A stifled sob escaped before the block door sealed with a hiss. Essence searched the vocals, isolating the rich timbre of the young voice. No. The new captive wasn't the one she searched for, the one that led her to this place, the one that got her caught.
Trudging past Essence’s two-way mirror, the soldiers headed out the opposite way. As she watched the grey figures leave, she couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips. They thought they were safe on that side of the mirror, hidden under the darkness of the barren hall. They didn’t know she could see them all. And after today, she never planned on seeing any of them ever again.
GENRE: Adult Science Fiction
After her sister is taken by a covert group of humans, a celestial named Essence avenges her by taking one of them, only to find that the human she captured may be the key to getting her kind off this wayward planet—a Beauty and the Beast meets Arrival retelling.
In two hundred thirteen years, Essence had never killed a human. The thought of ending such a delicate life brought on a crippling nausea. The back of her jaw clenched, rot gripped her throat. But now, shivering against the metal plank, weaponized vapors burning her lungs, she knew one thing—death came for all.
Down the concrete corridor outside her cell, a heavy door scratched at its hinges and rattled open. Soldiers dragged a woman along. The scrappy push and pull of resistance clanged in a lopsided rhythm. Someone limped. Maybe it was the captive, maybe it was one of the soldiers.
The unit stopped at an empty cell and aluminum batons shoved the woman in. A stifled sob escaped before the block door sealed with a hiss. Essence searched the vocals, isolating the rich timbre of the young voice. No. The new captive wasn't the one she searched for, the one that led her to this place, the one that got her caught.
Trudging past Essence’s two-way mirror, the soldiers headed out the opposite way. As she watched the grey figures leave, she couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips. They thought they were safe on that side of the mirror, hidden under the darkness of the barren hall. They didn’t know she could see them all. And after today, she never planned on seeing any of them ever again.
Grab My Heart #13
TITLE: Tides of Magic
GENRE: Adult Epic Fantasy
When the advent of magic allows former tyrants to lay siege to his kingdom, the wayward Prince Fabius is forced to choose between submitting to their savage rule or destroying magic itself. Of course, destroying magic means the loss of the lives of thousands of innocent subjects and the love of his life turned megalomaniac, Elena, who has delcared herself Empress.
Elena handed the child back his jeweled yoyo as a flash of yellow streaked past the window outside, a black jet of smoke trailing behind. Acrid fumes seeped in through the door.
Her auburn hair came undone as Elena pressed her face to the glass. At twenty-six winters past, she had handled many unpleasant people. But her heart pounded at the sight of the raucous mob gathered in front of the jewellery shop.
The flames crackled as smoldering embers of straw floated down. Elena picked up the two-year old and burst out of the shop. Fire shot though the thatched roof as two more torches landed. She clasped her mentor’s child closer.
“You can’t burn down the shop!” Elena shouted to the rambunctious crowd. “Have you people lost your mind?”
“Stay out of it, Elena. Dirma must pay for what he’s done.” Hogarth raised his left hand and waved her to move away.
Elena was not surprised to see the burly farmer among the mob. She looked around for a sympathetic face in the throng but icy eyes stared back at her. “He didn’t do anything. None of us know how all of this is happening,” she pleaded, wrapping her arms around the child tight.
“Tell that to Samuise Lothar.” Hogarth grabbed her free hand and pulled her away from the shop. “You didn’t have to look at the horror of his body turned to ice.”
GENRE: Adult Epic Fantasy
When the advent of magic allows former tyrants to lay siege to his kingdom, the wayward Prince Fabius is forced to choose between submitting to their savage rule or destroying magic itself. Of course, destroying magic means the loss of the lives of thousands of innocent subjects and the love of his life turned megalomaniac, Elena, who has delcared herself Empress.
Elena handed the child back his jeweled yoyo as a flash of yellow streaked past the window outside, a black jet of smoke trailing behind. Acrid fumes seeped in through the door.
Her auburn hair came undone as Elena pressed her face to the glass. At twenty-six winters past, she had handled many unpleasant people. But her heart pounded at the sight of the raucous mob gathered in front of the jewellery shop.
The flames crackled as smoldering embers of straw floated down. Elena picked up the two-year old and burst out of the shop. Fire shot though the thatched roof as two more torches landed. She clasped her mentor’s child closer.
“You can’t burn down the shop!” Elena shouted to the rambunctious crowd. “Have you people lost your mind?”
“Stay out of it, Elena. Dirma must pay for what he’s done.” Hogarth raised his left hand and waved her to move away.
Elena was not surprised to see the burly farmer among the mob. She looked around for a sympathetic face in the throng but icy eyes stared back at her. “He didn’t do anything. None of us know how all of this is happening,” she pleaded, wrapping her arms around the child tight.
“Tell that to Samuise Lothar.” Hogarth grabbed her free hand and pulled her away from the shop. “You didn’t have to look at the horror of his body turned to ice.”
Grab My Heart #12
TITLE: Invisible Me
GENRE: YA light SF
When Ana turns invisible and her genius best friend, Isaac, is kidnapped, she has seven days to find him or be invisible forever. They're after her next, wanting to extract the formula from her veins. She must free Isaac and get the antidote without falling into their hands.
Sneakered feet shuffled along the white tile floor as students lobbied for sinks to wash scorched test tubes and dripping pipets. Bunsen burners and beakers clattered to their places on supply shelves. The fluorescent light in the back of the room buzzed like a swarm of mosquitoes, and Isaac, my lab partner and best friend, scribbled conclusions on our lab sheet. His forehead creased with concentration.
That was my first clue something was wrong.
“Isaac? You okay? You look like you actually need to think about that.”
“I screwed up, Ana.”
I snort laughed. “How? Wouldn’t that be like Michelangelo messing up painting his house?”
“Not the lab. My experiments at home.” He lowered his voice. “I’m in trouble.”
I stared at him for a moment. “What do you mean you’re in—”
“Not now.” He slid the completed sheet to me and slung his backpack onto his shoulder. “I’m leaving early. Can you come over after school?”
I nodded, surprised he had to ask.
“I need to get ready. Come as soon as you can, okay?”
“Get ready?”
But the bell rang, and he was out the door before I was off my chair.
Thirteen minutes after school ended I pulled up across the street from Isaac’s house. He’d given me a spare key four years ago when we were freshman so he wouldn’t have to stop working to let me in. As soon as I pushed the door open, he called up from his lab.
“Is that you?"
GENRE: YA light SF
When Ana turns invisible and her genius best friend, Isaac, is kidnapped, she has seven days to find him or be invisible forever. They're after her next, wanting to extract the formula from her veins. She must free Isaac and get the antidote without falling into their hands.
Sneakered feet shuffled along the white tile floor as students lobbied for sinks to wash scorched test tubes and dripping pipets. Bunsen burners and beakers clattered to their places on supply shelves. The fluorescent light in the back of the room buzzed like a swarm of mosquitoes, and Isaac, my lab partner and best friend, scribbled conclusions on our lab sheet. His forehead creased with concentration.
That was my first clue something was wrong.
“Isaac? You okay? You look like you actually need to think about that.”
“I screwed up, Ana.”
I snort laughed. “How? Wouldn’t that be like Michelangelo messing up painting his house?”
“Not the lab. My experiments at home.” He lowered his voice. “I’m in trouble.”
I stared at him for a moment. “What do you mean you’re in—”
“Not now.” He slid the completed sheet to me and slung his backpack onto his shoulder. “I’m leaving early. Can you come over after school?”
I nodded, surprised he had to ask.
“I need to get ready. Come as soon as you can, okay?”
“Get ready?”
But the bell rang, and he was out the door before I was off my chair.
Thirteen minutes after school ended I pulled up across the street from Isaac’s house. He’d given me a spare key four years ago when we were freshman so he wouldn’t have to stop working to let me in. As soon as I pushed the door open, he called up from his lab.
“Is that you?"
Grab My Heart #11
TITLE: THE LUCK EXCHANGE
GENRE: MG Fantasy
In the elven afterlife, sleep replenishes magic. Twelve-year-old Madelece, an insomniac, desperately wants to fix what's broken about her, so she'll regain Mother's love. But when Mother creates a remedy, Madelece's friends go missing. Now she must decide if Mother's love is worth the gruesome price.
Madelece took a deep, calming breath before she climbed out of her canoe and pulled it onto the sand. She scanned the plain oak canoes anchored to the shore by Luck, until she spotted Mother’s.
Earthworms of anxiety knotted in Madelece’s belly. She'd been awake most of the night, so her Luck today was sporadic at best.
Mother would notice.
She turned back to her canoe. “Madelece says, Stay.” Her voice sounded strong and sure. Reaching down, she gave the boat a small test push, and it scooted back into the water. Jinx! Thank the Owls no one saw her failure. Quickly, she grabbed the edge before it floated away. Her maple tea was in there—and she would need every drop of sugary goodness to get her through this—along with the cloak her papa had made for her.
Father, she reminded herself. Not Papa. Mother liked her to call him Father.
Once she found the in-case-of-no-Luck rope she kept hidden under the seat, she tied it to a nearby tree, securing her canoe. She shivered and shook down her hair over her shoulders—it was cooler in the Valley than where her papa lived on the fringe of Ilfar Isle. A lance of sunlight turned copper strands to bright orange; she shoved them back, out of sight.
Madelece gathered her satchel and maple tea, then took a nervous sip. The healers had to cure her sleeplessness. They just had to. Then Mother would be proud of her.
GENRE: MG Fantasy
In the elven afterlife, sleep replenishes magic. Twelve-year-old Madelece, an insomniac, desperately wants to fix what's broken about her, so she'll regain Mother's love. But when Mother creates a remedy, Madelece's friends go missing. Now she must decide if Mother's love is worth the gruesome price.
Madelece took a deep, calming breath before she climbed out of her canoe and pulled it onto the sand. She scanned the plain oak canoes anchored to the shore by Luck, until she spotted Mother’s.
Earthworms of anxiety knotted in Madelece’s belly. She'd been awake most of the night, so her Luck today was sporadic at best.
Mother would notice.
She turned back to her canoe. “Madelece says, Stay.” Her voice sounded strong and sure. Reaching down, she gave the boat a small test push, and it scooted back into the water. Jinx! Thank the Owls no one saw her failure. Quickly, she grabbed the edge before it floated away. Her maple tea was in there—and she would need every drop of sugary goodness to get her through this—along with the cloak her papa had made for her.
Father, she reminded herself. Not Papa. Mother liked her to call him Father.
Once she found the in-case-of-no-Luck rope she kept hidden under the seat, she tied it to a nearby tree, securing her canoe. She shivered and shook down her hair over her shoulders—it was cooler in the Valley than where her papa lived on the fringe of Ilfar Isle. A lance of sunlight turned copper strands to bright orange; she shoved them back, out of sight.
Madelece gathered her satchel and maple tea, then took a nervous sip. The healers had to cure her sleeplessness. They just had to. Then Mother would be proud of her.
Grab My Heart #10
TITLE: MFO - Mars Farthest Out
GENRE: YA Science Fiction
Mars Jäeger, born into a mystic family on a rebelling colony planet, is orphaned at a very young age. Immediately conscripted into an army of youthful soldiers, he is forced to defend his home world and overcome the stain of his father as the traitor who brought war upon them.
A cluster of rouge suns hung low in the NuMarian sky like over-ripe fruit, after bringing an intolerable heat to the day. But in the shade of the backyard pericitlus tree, Marshall played for hours, unmindful of the broiling air. He was too excited to notice. Tomorrow was his fifth birthday and he expected a lot of presents from his dad. Daddy always brought such weird, wonderful things back from his off-world trips. But Marshall also worried. So many times the stupid trips to the Sol Coterie Family of Worlds capitol on MarsDSPrime, meant Daddy could be way longer than he promised he’d be gone. So far, no calls had come saying he would be delayed.
“Sorry, Marshall,” Daddy would say. “As representative of the EVO colonists of NuMar, my presence at the Senate negotiations is very important. Too many of our people have died for a very unimportant reason.”
Marshall didn’t understand what that reason was even though Daddy tried to explain it. Something about the galactic government wanting rocks only found on NuMar? And they wanted them really, really bad. But Daddy always made one thing quite clear.
“As the only remaining true humans in the galaxy, we EVO only want to live in peace.”
“Marshall!”
Oh, no! Had Daddy called? “Yes, Mum.”
“Time to come in.”
“Awww, Mum. Not yet. Look. Five suns are still shining. Can’t I play until at least three of them set?”
”No. Marshall. It’s past your bedtime.”
“Two?”
“Marsh-sie…”
Oops. “Okay. Okay.”
GENRE: YA Science Fiction
Mars Jäeger, born into a mystic family on a rebelling colony planet, is orphaned at a very young age. Immediately conscripted into an army of youthful soldiers, he is forced to defend his home world and overcome the stain of his father as the traitor who brought war upon them.
A cluster of rouge suns hung low in the NuMarian sky like over-ripe fruit, after bringing an intolerable heat to the day. But in the shade of the backyard pericitlus tree, Marshall played for hours, unmindful of the broiling air. He was too excited to notice. Tomorrow was his fifth birthday and he expected a lot of presents from his dad. Daddy always brought such weird, wonderful things back from his off-world trips. But Marshall also worried. So many times the stupid trips to the Sol Coterie Family of Worlds capitol on MarsDSPrime, meant Daddy could be way longer than he promised he’d be gone. So far, no calls had come saying he would be delayed.
“Sorry, Marshall,” Daddy would say. “As representative of the EVO colonists of NuMar, my presence at the Senate negotiations is very important. Too many of our people have died for a very unimportant reason.”
Marshall didn’t understand what that reason was even though Daddy tried to explain it. Something about the galactic government wanting rocks only found on NuMar? And they wanted them really, really bad. But Daddy always made one thing quite clear.
“As the only remaining true humans in the galaxy, we EVO only want to live in peace.”
“Marshall!”
Oh, no! Had Daddy called? “Yes, Mum.”
“Time to come in.”
“Awww, Mum. Not yet. Look. Five suns are still shining. Can’t I play until at least three of them set?”
”No. Marshall. It’s past your bedtime.”
“Two?”
“Marsh-sie…”
Oops. “Okay. Okay.”
Grab My Heart #9
TITLE: MIND BENDERS: DEAD AIR
GENRE: YA
In MIND BENDERS: DEAD AIR, a young dancer—IZZY SHERIDAN—trades in her ballet shoes for combat boots in her quest to find her missing friend. Along the way, she kisses the wrong guy, falls in love and transforms herself into a deadly assassin.
November 20, 2055...
Sweat drips from my forehead and into my eyes. I blink it away and shove off my stool to stand in the corner of the ring.
As the room falls silent, my face appears on the Megascreen along the far wall and the crowd erupts in a cacophony of hostile boos. My ears ring in response and the voice in my head warns me to 'Show no fear'. My eyes lock onto the screen as I watch my expression morph from uncertainty into one of detachment. It's an unfamiliar look for me.
There's no love for the underdog here. I get it. I'm not favored to win this bout. I'm considered an amateur. Too green to still be standing.
On the screen, flashing beside my name—Isla Sheridan—is a giant neon number two: my position in the ranking order. I don't need a reminder.
I suck in a breath and gag a little on the stench of sweat and grime.
The bell rings for round five.
I exhale.
We shuffle to the center.
I'm the first to go the distance with my opponent. I'm not certain who is more surprised—me, her, or the audience of cadets who have filed into the training arena to watch the matches. Speculative gazes filled with malice follow me, and I wonder who they hate more, me or Vika.
We are equally battered and bruised, sweat-soaked and determined.
My determination holds me upright, propelling me forward.
GENRE: YA
In MIND BENDERS: DEAD AIR, a young dancer—IZZY SHERIDAN—trades in her ballet shoes for combat boots in her quest to find her missing friend. Along the way, she kisses the wrong guy, falls in love and transforms herself into a deadly assassin.
November 20, 2055...
Sweat drips from my forehead and into my eyes. I blink it away and shove off my stool to stand in the corner of the ring.
As the room falls silent, my face appears on the Megascreen along the far wall and the crowd erupts in a cacophony of hostile boos. My ears ring in response and the voice in my head warns me to 'Show no fear'. My eyes lock onto the screen as I watch my expression morph from uncertainty into one of detachment. It's an unfamiliar look for me.
There's no love for the underdog here. I get it. I'm not favored to win this bout. I'm considered an amateur. Too green to still be standing.
On the screen, flashing beside my name—Isla Sheridan—is a giant neon number two: my position in the ranking order. I don't need a reminder.
I suck in a breath and gag a little on the stench of sweat and grime.
The bell rings for round five.
I exhale.
We shuffle to the center.
I'm the first to go the distance with my opponent. I'm not certain who is more surprised—me, her, or the audience of cadets who have filed into the training arena to watch the matches. Speculative gazes filled with malice follow me, and I wonder who they hate more, me or Vika.
We are equally battered and bruised, sweat-soaked and determined.
My determination holds me upright, propelling me forward.
Grab My Heart #8
TITLE: Good Monsters
GENRE: YA Science Fiction
Charles telepathically transforms matter with math. He wants to help, but his kind are nonpersons in the Provincial Alliance. After his friend is killed and his fiancée disappears, he has a moral obligation to reverse the social order. If he goes through with his plan, he’ll lose his new love.
Numbers danced and whirled in front of Charles. Numbers only he could see. At last, he was among friends. He immersed himself in their frenetic revelry, his spirit dancing along with them. For this brief moment, he lingered in their companionship. No fear. No pain. Only bliss.
“What the hell are you doing now? Flirting with the teapot?”
Charles lurched backward, knocking his chair against the wall. Great. Tucker was back.
Tucker poured himself a glass of orange juice. He took a box of cereal out of the cupboard and poured some into a bowl. “You are so weird. Just sitting there and staring at the teapot. But it’s probably the closest you’re going to get to a long-term relationship.”
Charles sidestepped Tucker on his way to the teapot. He brushed its porcelain surface with the back of his hand. Cold. Tucker had interrupted him before he could make it hot.
“What, are you caressing it now?” Tucker plopped down on the chair furthest from Charles and ate some cereal with his fingers. He grabbed an apple from the bowl on the table and threw it toward the entrance. “Hey, Kyle!”
A young man with blond hair and brown eyes caught the apple. At seventeen he was a year younger than Tucker, but he could’ve been his twin.
“Good catch. I’m going back to campus if you need a ride.” Tucker snickered. “Or you could stay and watch Charles make a move on the toaster. The teapot turned him down.”
GENRE: YA Science Fiction
Charles telepathically transforms matter with math. He wants to help, but his kind are nonpersons in the Provincial Alliance. After his friend is killed and his fiancée disappears, he has a moral obligation to reverse the social order. If he goes through with his plan, he’ll lose his new love.
Numbers danced and whirled in front of Charles. Numbers only he could see. At last, he was among friends. He immersed himself in their frenetic revelry, his spirit dancing along with them. For this brief moment, he lingered in their companionship. No fear. No pain. Only bliss.
“What the hell are you doing now? Flirting with the teapot?”
Charles lurched backward, knocking his chair against the wall. Great. Tucker was back.
Tucker poured himself a glass of orange juice. He took a box of cereal out of the cupboard and poured some into a bowl. “You are so weird. Just sitting there and staring at the teapot. But it’s probably the closest you’re going to get to a long-term relationship.”
Charles sidestepped Tucker on his way to the teapot. He brushed its porcelain surface with the back of his hand. Cold. Tucker had interrupted him before he could make it hot.
“What, are you caressing it now?” Tucker plopped down on the chair furthest from Charles and ate some cereal with his fingers. He grabbed an apple from the bowl on the table and threw it toward the entrance. “Hey, Kyle!”
A young man with blond hair and brown eyes caught the apple. At seventeen he was a year younger than Tucker, but he could’ve been his twin.
“Good catch. I’m going back to campus if you need a ride.” Tucker snickered. “Or you could stay and watch Charles make a move on the toaster. The teapot turned him down.”
Grab My Heart #7
TITLE: Ananke the Suicide Eater
GENRE: YA Historical
Fifteen-year-old Dewey battles his sexuality and the monstrous Ananke, who preys on the tragic by making them commit suicide and feeding on their corpses.
The draft notice came in the mail.
Dewey’s throat burns around the fritas he chews down. On any other day, he’d enjoy the hamburgers stuffed with French fries. They’re heaven in the mouth and stomach, but how in the hell can he enjoy anything ever again? Dewey has seen enough Selective Service envelopes tumbling in the school parking lot in piles of ash to know what one is by only glimpsing the envelope.
But the craziest part about today? Rio’s acting like he hasn’t seen the letter—like he ain’t going to end up dead in ‘Nam.
“What’s this?”
Dewey freezes midway while taking a bite of his second frita. Rio squints at him from the opposite end of the kitchen table with the other letter in hand. Jesus, Dewey forgot about it between brainstorming ideas for poems that don’t involve flowers, talking to his best friend on the phone about the importance of who’d win a fight: Dracula, Frankenstein, Godzilla, or King Kong, and there was something else he was busy doing earlier but can’t remember. And not to mention Rio will be going to freaking ‘Nam, only to return in a wooden box when the army is done using him up.
Dewey tries to change the subject. “I needa borrow the truck keys. Don’t we need milk and eggs and-”
Rio’s frown has him stopping his plan dead in its tracks. “I never said I was gonna let you borrow my truck. Walk to the store. I don’t wanna get another call from the cops about you doing that stupid—whatever it’s called—where you stop at a red light and switch seats.”
GENRE: YA Historical
Fifteen-year-old Dewey battles his sexuality and the monstrous Ananke, who preys on the tragic by making them commit suicide and feeding on their corpses.
The draft notice came in the mail.
Dewey’s throat burns around the fritas he chews down. On any other day, he’d enjoy the hamburgers stuffed with French fries. They’re heaven in the mouth and stomach, but how in the hell can he enjoy anything ever again? Dewey has seen enough Selective Service envelopes tumbling in the school parking lot in piles of ash to know what one is by only glimpsing the envelope.
But the craziest part about today? Rio’s acting like he hasn’t seen the letter—like he ain’t going to end up dead in ‘Nam.
“What’s this?”
Dewey freezes midway while taking a bite of his second frita. Rio squints at him from the opposite end of the kitchen table with the other letter in hand. Jesus, Dewey forgot about it between brainstorming ideas for poems that don’t involve flowers, talking to his best friend on the phone about the importance of who’d win a fight: Dracula, Frankenstein, Godzilla, or King Kong, and there was something else he was busy doing earlier but can’t remember. And not to mention Rio will be going to freaking ‘Nam, only to return in a wooden box when the army is done using him up.
Dewey tries to change the subject. “I needa borrow the truck keys. Don’t we need milk and eggs and-”
Rio’s frown has him stopping his plan dead in its tracks. “I never said I was gonna let you borrow my truck. Walk to the store. I don’t wanna get another call from the cops about you doing that stupid—whatever it’s called—where you stop at a red light and switch seats.”
Grab My Heart #6
TITLE: Desert Awakening
GENRE: Adult Fantasy
Conflict photographer, Ella finds an ancient statue in Syria and becomes guardian to a celestial gate, which will unleash 5000 years of war if it opens.
Ella’s hand shook as she slid her most precious possession—a tiny padded envelope—across the splintered countertop. A small man with sinewy arms and thin mustache took it. Dark, rust colored dirt embedded under his fingernails. Everyone had dirty hands here.
It coated everything.
The roofs of buildings, the peoples’ faces, the faded blood that stained the streets.
His dark eyes peered up at her under thick brows. “Only the one?” he said.
“Yeah,” Ella said, nodding.
“That’ll be fifty.”
Ella rolled her eyes and sighed. “Fifty?” she scoffed. “Last week it was thirty.”
She had no choice but to pay it. They’d barricaded the East Highway, and the Southern route has been closed after that chopper but pulled a crumpled bill from her back jean pocket. This was to be expected. Everyday more roads were being either barricaded or unsafe for travel. Her livelihood depended on that little memory card. Containing hundreds of photos, she’d pay almost any price to ensure it arrived safely in the states. She handed the money to him.
“Thank you,” he said with a heavy Arabic accent. He grinned, displaying a set of crooked, stained teeth.
Ella grumbled. “And my mail?”
The man gave a quick nod, and stuffing the fifty into his shirt pocket, he disappeared into a back storage room. Ella turned around, and rested her elbows against the edge of the rough wood. Two dark-skinned men entered. She eyed them warily. With thick forearms and broad shoulders, their shirts had several faded red stains on them.
GENRE: Adult Fantasy
Conflict photographer, Ella finds an ancient statue in Syria and becomes guardian to a celestial gate, which will unleash 5000 years of war if it opens.
Ella’s hand shook as she slid her most precious possession—a tiny padded envelope—across the splintered countertop. A small man with sinewy arms and thin mustache took it. Dark, rust colored dirt embedded under his fingernails. Everyone had dirty hands here.
It coated everything.
The roofs of buildings, the peoples’ faces, the faded blood that stained the streets.
His dark eyes peered up at her under thick brows. “Only the one?” he said.
“Yeah,” Ella said, nodding.
“That’ll be fifty.”
Ella rolled her eyes and sighed. “Fifty?” she scoffed. “Last week it was thirty.”
She had no choice but to pay it. They’d barricaded the East Highway, and the Southern route has been closed after that chopper but pulled a crumpled bill from her back jean pocket. This was to be expected. Everyday more roads were being either barricaded or unsafe for travel. Her livelihood depended on that little memory card. Containing hundreds of photos, she’d pay almost any price to ensure it arrived safely in the states. She handed the money to him.
“Thank you,” he said with a heavy Arabic accent. He grinned, displaying a set of crooked, stained teeth.
Ella grumbled. “And my mail?”
The man gave a quick nod, and stuffing the fifty into his shirt pocket, he disappeared into a back storage room. Ella turned around, and rested her elbows against the edge of the rough wood. Two dark-skinned men entered. She eyed them warily. With thick forearms and broad shoulders, their shirts had several faded red stains on them.
Grab My Heart #5
TITLE: Before the Flames
GENRE: YA Urban Fantasty
When Savannah opens a tomb and triggers a curse that kills her dad and unleashes the gods of the underworld, it’s up to her and her mom to use the seven heavenly virtues to stop the gods from turning the world to hell and find a way to resurrect her father.
Mist rolls onto the island in thick cold waves. I pull my jacket tighter against my arms and rub the gooseflesh forming across my skin. Water laps the shores around us, the sound a steady roar on the quiet island. Standing in the entry way of the tomb I can’t see the emerald green landscape that surrounds us. I can’t see more than two or three feet in front of my own hand past the swirling fog. Or the most covered gray stones that almost disappear into the green landscape outside. Moss and a musty stench flow through the dark entry way before us. It smells old and stale, like it hasn’t been open in centuries.
Maybe it hasn’t.
“I can’t believe we found the lost Isle of the Druids,” Dad says, holding up a lamp. There’s excitement in his voice, the tones of a child running wild in a candy store. The light casts eerie shadows along the tunnel. Symbols are etched along the walls, things I can’t read, and I wonder if Dad can. They remind me of Celtic knots or circular mazes. “After all these years. It’s real.” His voice is almost a gasp, quiet and breathy.
We make our way down the tunnel, me, Dad, Decland, and a couple of local archaeologists that actually believed Dad when he said he knew where the Isle of the Druids was located. Most hadn’t even heard of the legend. I hadn’t heard the legend.
GENRE: YA Urban Fantasty
When Savannah opens a tomb and triggers a curse that kills her dad and unleashes the gods of the underworld, it’s up to her and her mom to use the seven heavenly virtues to stop the gods from turning the world to hell and find a way to resurrect her father.
Mist rolls onto the island in thick cold waves. I pull my jacket tighter against my arms and rub the gooseflesh forming across my skin. Water laps the shores around us, the sound a steady roar on the quiet island. Standing in the entry way of the tomb I can’t see the emerald green landscape that surrounds us. I can’t see more than two or three feet in front of my own hand past the swirling fog. Or the most covered gray stones that almost disappear into the green landscape outside. Moss and a musty stench flow through the dark entry way before us. It smells old and stale, like it hasn’t been open in centuries.
Maybe it hasn’t.
“I can’t believe we found the lost Isle of the Druids,” Dad says, holding up a lamp. There’s excitement in his voice, the tones of a child running wild in a candy store. The light casts eerie shadows along the tunnel. Symbols are etched along the walls, things I can’t read, and I wonder if Dad can. They remind me of Celtic knots or circular mazes. “After all these years. It’s real.” His voice is almost a gasp, quiet and breathy.
We make our way down the tunnel, me, Dad, Decland, and a couple of local archaeologists that actually believed Dad when he said he knew where the Isle of the Druids was located. Most hadn’t even heard of the legend. I hadn’t heard the legend.
Grab My Heart #4
TITLE: Feral Prime
GENRE: YA Ownvoices Science Fiction
Ava, a deaf programmer, and Bren, a blind pilot, set off to stop rogue robots from attacking their city. But when their override program threatens another city's livelihood, the friends take opposite sides on which home to protect.
Ava couldn't deny it--Bren had great boots. Thick, steel-toed, oil-stained juggernauts of footwear. If only she would get them off the dashboard and actually pilot her animech. But, no. Apparently, in Bren's mind, driving a giant mechanized wolf was best done with her feet up, a wireless com in one ear, and her hand deep in a bag of spice crisps.
Ava repositioned herself in the clunky passenger seat. It wasn't like she had a clue what the wolf-mech's--what Fang's--blinky buttons and switches did. And she sure as heck couldn't walk across the Wastes herself. So for now it was put up with her best friend's oddities or put off her life's dream. She adjusted her visor and tried to relax a little. Tried to focus on the world outside Fang's windshield. A world which, up until twelve hours ago, she'd only seen in data files.
Alpha Outpost was the largest scrapper hub around, which made it a haven for travelers and the place to buy anything not approved for sale back in the domes. There were shops for salvage. Shops for tools. Shops for mods and weapons. Ava even spotted a flickering sign advertising pre-programmed nano-tech. Everything was so... not as scary as her mom had insisted. She pressed a gloved hand against the clear alloy, as if she could coax some excitement up into the cockpit with her. Watching the station's bustle was like floating above a carnival. Well, if Dome Central's sky image was switched to "concrete slab with light bulbs," anyway.
GENRE: YA Ownvoices Science Fiction
Ava, a deaf programmer, and Bren, a blind pilot, set off to stop rogue robots from attacking their city. But when their override program threatens another city's livelihood, the friends take opposite sides on which home to protect.
Ava couldn't deny it--Bren had great boots. Thick, steel-toed, oil-stained juggernauts of footwear. If only she would get them off the dashboard and actually pilot her animech. But, no. Apparently, in Bren's mind, driving a giant mechanized wolf was best done with her feet up, a wireless com in one ear, and her hand deep in a bag of spice crisps.
Ava repositioned herself in the clunky passenger seat. It wasn't like she had a clue what the wolf-mech's--what Fang's--blinky buttons and switches did. And she sure as heck couldn't walk across the Wastes herself. So for now it was put up with her best friend's oddities or put off her life's dream. She adjusted her visor and tried to relax a little. Tried to focus on the world outside Fang's windshield. A world which, up until twelve hours ago, she'd only seen in data files.
Alpha Outpost was the largest scrapper hub around, which made it a haven for travelers and the place to buy anything not approved for sale back in the domes. There were shops for salvage. Shops for tools. Shops for mods and weapons. Ava even spotted a flickering sign advertising pre-programmed nano-tech. Everything was so... not as scary as her mom had insisted. She pressed a gloved hand against the clear alloy, as if she could coax some excitement up into the cockpit with her. Watching the station's bustle was like floating above a carnival. Well, if Dome Central's sky image was switched to "concrete slab with light bulbs," anyway.
Grab My Heart #3
TITLE: Seamus O'Roarke and the Summer of Swampfoot
GENRE: MG Adventure
When Seamus is set up to take the fall for a dognapping/theft ring, he must hatch a plan to catch the ringleader while avoiding bullying twins, a mean neighbor, and his sister, or his mom will be so disappointed she may never come home.
Seamus skidded to a halt before he slammed into the gigantic rock. With everything on his mind, including getting away from his thought-she-was-the-queen-of-telling-him-what-to-do sister, he hadn’t been paying attention to where he was going. Seamus took in the clearing the rock sat in. It was as if the rock had blasted from the sky, obliterating the trees around it in a perfect circle.
Maybe finding the rock was a sign. Seamus figured the top of the gigantic rock might be a good place to pitch his stupid, unlucky rabbit foot into the woods. Leave it to Seamus to end up with an unlucky lucky rabbit foot. Hoodoo piece of junk. Seamus clutched the hunk of dingy gray fur. He supposed it used to be white, before it was an antique. Too bad he couldn’t pitch his sister into never-never land right along with the foot.
But what if there was some truth to the good luck thing? Maybe his foot was just so old that most of the good luck had just plain worn out. Or, what if he threw it away and that made his luck turn from bad to terrible? Seamus secretly hoped a spark of good luck was left in the old thing, and it would bring Mom back home. He probably should keep it.
Seamus decided to climb to the top of the humungous rock. It could be the perfect place to spend his summer days alone. Alone, without his sister yapping at him.
GENRE: MG Adventure
When Seamus is set up to take the fall for a dognapping/theft ring, he must hatch a plan to catch the ringleader while avoiding bullying twins, a mean neighbor, and his sister, or his mom will be so disappointed she may never come home.
Seamus skidded to a halt before he slammed into the gigantic rock. With everything on his mind, including getting away from his thought-she-was-the-queen-of-telling-him-what-to-do sister, he hadn’t been paying attention to where he was going. Seamus took in the clearing the rock sat in. It was as if the rock had blasted from the sky, obliterating the trees around it in a perfect circle.
Maybe finding the rock was a sign. Seamus figured the top of the gigantic rock might be a good place to pitch his stupid, unlucky rabbit foot into the woods. Leave it to Seamus to end up with an unlucky lucky rabbit foot. Hoodoo piece of junk. Seamus clutched the hunk of dingy gray fur. He supposed it used to be white, before it was an antique. Too bad he couldn’t pitch his sister into never-never land right along with the foot.
But what if there was some truth to the good luck thing? Maybe his foot was just so old that most of the good luck had just plain worn out. Or, what if he threw it away and that made his luck turn from bad to terrible? Seamus secretly hoped a spark of good luck was left in the old thing, and it would bring Mom back home. He probably should keep it.
Seamus decided to climb to the top of the humungous rock. It could be the perfect place to spend his summer days alone. Alone, without his sister yapping at him.
Grab My Heart #2
TITLE: Persephone's Waltz
GENRE: Adult Fantasy
A comedic romance between a Holy Maiden who’s not at all innocent and a dark lord who’s as sweet as a cinnamon roll.
I, Holy Maiden Ysabel, had only four months, three weeks, and two days to live, and I intended to make the most of every single day. To my mind, this meant spending as little time as possible in meetings with the Council of Patriarchs. Yet here I was. I needed a smoke or a stiff drink. Not both; I’d learned from bitter experience on my knees in the outhouse that redleaf and alcohol did not mix.
Patriarch Rakir continued, “…As the maid said to the bishop.” He laughed uproariously. So did the rest of the room. I contemplated the five minutes of my life which I would never get back. Rakir deserved a beating for making me sit through, by my last count, eighty-nine jokes where the punchline was “women are sluts.”
“What did you think, Ysabel?” Patriarch Rakir asked, smirking. The average intelligence of humanity will be raised the day his nighttime activities cause his old heart to fail.
I widened my eyes. “Oh, it was dreadfully entertaining, but I think it went over my head. Alas, the Sun God has not blessed me with a wit equal to you gentlemen. Why did the bishop tie the maid up? Did she do something wrong?”
They exploded into laughter. I kept my vapid, pretty smile on my face while I contemplated the sharp limits of Rakir’s knowledge of bondage. At least take advantage of the increased sensitivity with a bit of hot wax and ice cubes.
GENRE: Adult Fantasy
A comedic romance between a Holy Maiden who’s not at all innocent and a dark lord who’s as sweet as a cinnamon roll.
I, Holy Maiden Ysabel, had only four months, three weeks, and two days to live, and I intended to make the most of every single day. To my mind, this meant spending as little time as possible in meetings with the Council of Patriarchs. Yet here I was. I needed a smoke or a stiff drink. Not both; I’d learned from bitter experience on my knees in the outhouse that redleaf and alcohol did not mix.
Patriarch Rakir continued, “…As the maid said to the bishop.” He laughed uproariously. So did the rest of the room. I contemplated the five minutes of my life which I would never get back. Rakir deserved a beating for making me sit through, by my last count, eighty-nine jokes where the punchline was “women are sluts.”
“What did you think, Ysabel?” Patriarch Rakir asked, smirking. The average intelligence of humanity will be raised the day his nighttime activities cause his old heart to fail.
I widened my eyes. “Oh, it was dreadfully entertaining, but I think it went over my head. Alas, the Sun God has not blessed me with a wit equal to you gentlemen. Why did the bishop tie the maid up? Did she do something wrong?”
They exploded into laughter. I kept my vapid, pretty smile on my face while I contemplated the sharp limits of Rakir’s knowledge of bondage. At least take advantage of the increased sensitivity with a bit of hot wax and ice cubes.
Grab My Heart #1
TITLE: The Cross Queen
GENRE: YA Fantasy
When Colista (17), a pillaging street rat, dethrones the current Fire Queen of Lavelle, she must survive attempts on her life, endless scrutiny of her virtue, and forbidden love. However, when she realizes she can wield all four elements, the remaining Elemental Queens and their secrets threaten the crown she fought for.
I run into the storm.
When the dreaded bell sounds throughout the valley, the villagers scatter from the marketplace, leaving their pushcarts, stalls, and errands behind. It is protocol in Lavelle to race for shelter when disaster is warned to hit.
I wish I could say I am brave - that I don’t run away because I’m a thrill seeker - a risk taker. But that’s not the case at all. I’m terrified. Every time a storm, a fire, a tidal wave or avalanche charges for our province, I fear it’s the last time I’ll see daylight. But I race into the marketplace whenever that bell sounds for one reason only: to survive.
I spy from behind a brick corridor, waiting for the marketplace to empty. The last few people gather up some belongings or wrangle their horses in a hurry to escape the escalating winds that kick up the sand and pebbles from the poorly-kept dirt roads. The few guards remaining tell the stragglers to leave everything and get moving. They check the abandoned vendor stalls and scan through the whipping canvas of the tents, which surely won’t be here in a few hours.
When one of the guard’s eyes peer my way, I duck back into the corridor. If they see me, they’ll hustle me away. Part of me wants them to see me - to usher me back to safety. But a bigger part of me is hungry and knows that Magda needs her medicine.
GENRE: YA Fantasy
When Colista (17), a pillaging street rat, dethrones the current Fire Queen of Lavelle, she must survive attempts on her life, endless scrutiny of her virtue, and forbidden love. However, when she realizes she can wield all four elements, the remaining Elemental Queens and their secrets threaten the crown she fought for.
I run into the storm.
When the dreaded bell sounds throughout the valley, the villagers scatter from the marketplace, leaving their pushcarts, stalls, and errands behind. It is protocol in Lavelle to race for shelter when disaster is warned to hit.
I wish I could say I am brave - that I don’t run away because I’m a thrill seeker - a risk taker. But that’s not the case at all. I’m terrified. Every time a storm, a fire, a tidal wave or avalanche charges for our province, I fear it’s the last time I’ll see daylight. But I race into the marketplace whenever that bell sounds for one reason only: to survive.
I spy from behind a brick corridor, waiting for the marketplace to empty. The last few people gather up some belongings or wrangle their horses in a hurry to escape the escalating winds that kick up the sand and pebbles from the poorly-kept dirt roads. The few guards remaining tell the stragglers to leave everything and get moving. They check the abandoned vendor stalls and scan through the whipping canvas of the tents, which surely won’t be here in a few hours.
When one of the guard’s eyes peer my way, I duck back into the corridor. If they see me, they’ll hustle me away. Part of me wants them to see me - to usher me back to safety. But a bigger part of me is hungry and knows that Magda needs her medicine.
Monday, July 16, 2018
Call For Submissions: GRAB MY HEART
Here it is, folks! Submissions will open at NOON EDT today.
Guidelines:
*All genres except erotica and erotic romance will be accepted (no PBs).
*Submit a pitch (approximately 50 words) and your first page (250 words). ENTRIES WITHOUT A PITCH WILL BE DISQUALIFIED.
*Submit HERE.
*Submission window is 12:00 PM EDT to 8:00 PM EDT.
*The first 40 qualifying entries will be accepted (this is not a lottery).
*Winning entries will post on Wednesday for public critique.
Good luck, everyone!
Guidelines:
*All genres except erotica and erotic romance will be accepted (no PBs).
*Submit a pitch (approximately 50 words) and your first page (250 words). ENTRIES WITHOUT A PITCH WILL BE DISQUALIFIED.
*Submit HERE.
*Submission window is 12:00 PM EDT to 8:00 PM EDT.
*The first 40 qualifying entries will be accepted (this is not a lottery).
*Winning entries will post on Wednesday for public critique.
Good luck, everyone!
Thursday, July 12, 2018
Pitch Contest: Grab My Heart!
I promised some in-house critiques, so here's the first! I've sweetened it a bit, though, because THERE WILL BE SOME WINNERS.
Welcome to the GRAB MY HEART pitch contest, in which you will attempt to grab my heart with your pitch and the first page of your ready-to-query manuscript.
Here's how it'll work:
1. Submit a pitch and the first 250 words of your story in ANY GENRE except erotica or erotic romance. (Pictures books not included; I'm sorry.)
2. I will take 40 entries, chosen by our lovable bot.
3. The 40 entries will post on the blog for public critique.
4. From these 40, I will choose MY THREE FAVORITES. Each of my favorites will receive a critique of their first 5 pages. (Why 5? Because often that's how many pages agents request that you include in your query letter.)
So start fine-tuning your pitches--submissions will open THIS MONDAY, JULY 16!
(Ask your questions below!)
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