#ExcerptWeek – Finding Hunter Chapter 4

September 18, 2015September 19, 2015 / Marcia Meara / Leave a comment

Pulling out all the stops as we head into the weekend. Decided to share an entire chapter! We last saw Hunter racing for home, leaving a shocked and miserable Willow behind, after a shared kiss in the garden that rocked her world. Willow, probably my strongest female character to date, is not going to settle for something like that, without an explanation. This is what ensues. (Note: Hunter does have reasons for his deep-seated fear of starting a relationship with Willow. But his resistance is giving way.)
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Bounced awake, I hold my head against the constant pain.
An arm reaches across me, opens the door.
Sorry, he says, wrinkling his nose.
You gotta get out now …
Go bathe.
~ Traveling Man ~

~~~
Chapter 4
I’ve Gone to China
~~~

Saturday, December 29, 2012

HUNTER GROANED, PULLING his feather pillow over his head not only to block out the world, but just in case he started shouting in frustration.

What the hell happened? What the bloody hell just happened? Everything was fine. It was going better than I ever thought it would, and then suddenly it all went crazy. She kissed me! Why the hell did she kiss me? How the hell was I supposed to resist that?

The memory of that kiss rocketed into him so hot and fast, it scorched a path through his soul. Never in his life had a kiss transported him that way. He could still feel her mouth under his, sweet and yielding, and burning like fire. The raspberry scent of her hair lingered on his hands, and he would never, ever forget the taste of her skin. Every nerve ending in his body felt burned raw from the experience—so sensitive, the slightest breeze sliding over it would cause unbearable pain.

But somewhere in his torment, he also remembered how she had responded to him, moaning into that kiss, and whispering his name over and over as they clung to each other. She wanted him, too, a concept that had never once seemed a possibility in all the years he had loved her.

Doesn’t make it any better, does it, you stupid fool? Still never gonna happen. You don’t belong with Willow Greene, and nothing’s going to change that. All you’re doing here is torturing yourself. Continue reading →

#ExcerptWeek – Summer Magic: Poems of Life & Love #2

September 17, 2015 / Marcia Meara / 2 Comments

A longish one before bedtime. Hope some of you will enjoy it to the end. This little boy is near and dear to my heart, being the ten-year-old version of MacKenzie Cole, the main male character in Wake-Robin Ridge.

Deep Pockets

He sits cross-legged
On smooth, gray granite
Outside the tent,
And watches the light
Turn from gold to silver,
Caught in that space between
Daylight and dusk,
When all things seem possible,
And the remarkable,
Ordinary.

To hold his day
Longer, closer,
He goes through his pockets,
And chooses which memories
To save forever.
He lays out treasures
Found on the trail,
One by one,
In neat rows upon the rock,
And studies each item with
Solemn consideration,
Weighing the merits
Of this over that.

It takes time to decide
Which to take home.
Which to show his mother,
And afterward,
Which he will line up
Along his shelves,
To be looked at
Again and again,
On dreary, gray days
When the warmth of summer
Is a visitor long departed.
Decisions like these
Aren’t made in a moment,
But rather, by pondering
Carefully, thoughtfully.

Here, a feather
Of startling blue,
Found beneath a jay’s
Untidy nest.
And this? This rumpled,
Transparent length,
Imprinted by the scales
Of the snake it once clothed?
His mother will squeal
In pretend horror,
But will smile and relent.
Yes, he thinks.
I’ll keep this one, too. Continue reading →

#ExcerptWeek – Summer Magic: Poems of Life & Love

September 17, 2015 / Marcia Meara / 4 Comments

Something different this morning. Enjoy!

Indian Summer

He sees her standing
Below the falls,
Carefully balanced
On the slippery rocks,
And laughing
In the hazy October sun.

Only yesterday
The ice-rimmed pool
Mirrored angry gray clouds,
And a wind out of the north
Chilled his bones.
Today, a warm yellow sun
Has eaten the frost,
And resurrected the ghost
Of a summer already laid to rest.

She’s wearing shorts,
As if she knew
There would be a reprieve
And dressed accordingly.
Dampened hems, and a
Misty sheen on
Her long, slim legs
Bear testament to
The wind-blown spray.
Her loosened hair is a
Sable cloud swirling
Around her face,
Smelling faintly
Of August nights
And tupelo honey.

She turns toward him,
Radiant and joyful,
Filled with a wonder
Most have long lost.
Her smile invites him
To let go of autumn
To share the sunshine,
To be reborn in this moment.

Surprised, his mouth
Curves in response, and
His soul cries,
Yes, oh yes!
Desperation gives voice
To need long ignored.
Yes, he thinks again,
Walking toward her.
I want the sunlight,
The warmth, the wonder.
Show me, teach me.

He takes her hand, and
Lets the sunlight
Flood his heart,
Thawing the frost within,
Setting him free.

Summer Magic: Poems of Life & Love

Three for One! | Excerpt Week

September 16, 2015 / Callum McLaughlin / 7 Comments

The cover art for my three books.

With some friendly nudging from Marcia I’m finally getting round to adding my voice to another great excerpt week. I have three works available – two novels and a poetry collection – and thought I’d share a quick snippet from each.

Let’s start with a poem from Seeking Solace, entitled Goodbye.

Goodbye Mr Tiger,
your eyes they burned so bright.
I’ll think of all their golden charm
when I close my own at night.

Goodbye Mr Elephant,
so mighty, the ground it shook.
I’ll keep alive your memory
when I read my storybook.

Goodbye Mr Leopard,
so stealthy and so shy.
I wish it didn’t end this way,
I wish you did not die.

Goodbye Mother Nature,
so generous, so pure.
I don’t blame you for leaving us,
we’re sick and there’s no cure.

Goodbye fellow human,
I guess I’ll be alone.
When nothing else was left to kill
it seems we killed our own.

—

Next is an excerpt from False Awakening, a suspense story following a girl’s quest to reclaim her memories and solve the mysteries surrounding the night that led to the death of her friend and landed her in hospital.

The park was crawling with children as expected. It was the height of the summer holiday and the sun burned brightly above them. As they clambered up the ropes, thrashed around in the sandpit and raced each other to the swings, parents lined the benches by the edges of the play area. The town would have been consumed by the story of Holly’s death. This was an uneventful place; the kind where days drifted by so monotonously you would be forgiven for failing to notice; each one blurring into the next in one mass of happy, easy existence. Mothers would be watching their offspring like hawks now; fathers setting curfews, and children obliviously carrying on as though nothing had changed at all when in reality, everything had changed.

—

Last but not least, here is an excerpt from my first book, The Vessel, which follows a young woman’s fight to expose the truth in a corrupt and desolate dystopian world.

Light poured in through the open door and burned her retinas to the point of temporary blindness. She stood motionless, like a startled doe, bathed in nothing but glorious warmth. Clarity returned and composure allowed her to pull the heavy, steel door closed behind her and secure the padlock in place. The sound of her pursuers pounding their fists against the barrier that now separated them soon faded away, replaced by delicate birdsong and the sweet smell of trees. She was free.

Exhausted, Eva made her way through the dense woodland surrounding the complex. Crisp autumnal leaves brushed against her skin, while thick moss provided a soft, spongy pathway underfoot. In spite of all she had been through, she could not help but smile. In stark contrast to the dull greys and lifeless blacks that had engulfed her throughout the duration of her captivity, Eva’s eyes were bombarded with luminous oranges, glowing yellows and fresh greens wherever she looked.

—

If you’d like to check out any of my books or get more information, you can find them on Amazon UK, Amazon US and Goodreads.

Happy reading, everyone!

#FindingHunter Excerpt 4

September 16, 2015 / Marcia Meara / 6 Comments

Lest you think Finding Hunter is all sweetness and light, and mere romantic fluff, let me assure you that it’s not. Not that I don’t love romantic fluff, myself, and read plenty of it. But in this case, it’s not what I’ve written. At least, not completely. Bad things are heading for Hunter & Willow, no matter how hard Willow tries to convince Hunter otherwise. To demonstrate what I mean, here is the Prologue, featuring the man who’s the source of the little snippets I’ve been sharing with you, from the beginning of each Chapter. Aahhh…the Traveling Man. He’s on his way. 😯
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FINDING HUNTER PROLOGUE

Dawn, August 1, 2013

EVERYTHING WAS PAIN. Everything he felt, everything he remembered. Pain, and pain, and pain. His dreams echoed with sounds of agony, screams ricocheting through his head. Pain—and blood. Rivers of blood. Scarlet, coppery-scented puddles spreading in front of him.

He woke on his knees, vomiting in the grass. Afterward, he crawled back onto the park bench, mouth sour, and head throbbing. Shivering, he tried to push the dreams away, but they weren’t ready to let him go.

He had done something bad. That was the problem. Worse than bad—something unthinkable. This crime was the root of all his dreams, and if only he could remember, he’d know what he needed to do next. But every time he tried to get it straight in his head, the screams would start again, followed by that God-awful, unrelenting pain.

As the day woke up around him, he huddled on the bench, with the smell of rotgut whiskey on his breath, and sledgehammers pounding inside his skull. He scrubbed at his eyes, as if that would wipe away the images of all that blood, and make the last echoes of those tortured screams disappear. It didn’t work.

There had to be a way to make it all end. When it came to him, he was surprised at the simplicity of the solution. Something—someone—needed to die. Fight fire with fire, blood with blood, pain with pain. Oh, yes. That was the answer.

Shuffling to his unsteady feet, he stumbled through the morning mist. He had no idea where he was—not even which state he was in, let alone the name of this little town—but he heard the unmistakable whoosh of cars speeding down a highway. In five minutes, he stood by the edge of the southbound lane, holding out his thumb. Instinct told him the direction to travel, and desperation kept him upright, as he waited for the ride that would take him where he needed to go.

His plan was simple. If death would bring an end to this pain, then someone was going to die.
****

Finding Hunter is now available for download on Amazon. Print version coming soon.

Boys Don’t Cry Excerpt

September 16, 2015 / Jenny / 4 Comments

How awesome is it that excerpt week coincides with release week for my brand new contemporary romance, Boys Don’t Cry? Nate and Tali are two of my all-time favorite characters, and falling in love with them while they fell in love was quite possibly one of my favorite experiences as a writer. I’m really excited for others to meet them, so here’s a little excerpt that introduces Tali.

From Chapter One

Three minutes ago, all I could think about was how much I was going to respect the refreshment of that air conditioning, but I’m already cold and anxious to steal Dad’s body heat as I tuck into myself and snuggle closer. I tilt my head to rest on the shoulder of a faded black Depeche Mode t-shirt that’s almost a decade older than I am.

“They heard you were coming and dumped all the chocolate chips into the trash,” Art adds, pushing across the table so his paper dining mat shoves into mine and sends it into my lap.

“That’s enough, Arthur. Sit down before the waitress comes.” Mom sighs and sweeps her hand across her brow like she’s got a headache. Sitting next to Art, I wouldn’t be surprised. He does that to me, too. Continue reading →

#FindingHunter Excerpt 3

September 15, 2015September 16, 2015 / Marcia Meara / 2 Comments

Promised the second part of today’s excerpt, and here it is. A bit later in Chapter 3, still at Willow’s house, but after lunch, this time from Willow’s POV. She’s on just as many pins and needles as Hunter is. 🙂 Enjoy!

*************

How could I ever have thought I cared a fig for Evan Ashe, or anyone else? No one has ever made me feel the way Hunter Painter does. Every single day of my life has been lost in sleep-walking, waiting, waiting, waiting.

She shoved that thought away. “Would you like to see the herb garden first?”

“There’s more?”

“Of course,” she said, with a self-conscious laugh. “I never can seem to do things by halves. I’ve made several garden areas, and then there’s a path through the trees, down to a little stream. What would you like to see?”

“Everything. Show me everything.”

She studied his face to be sure he really meant it. He looked serious. “Okay, let’s start over there.” Pointing to the side yard, she headed to her favorite bed.

Following traditional design, Willow had laid out her main herb garden as a large rectangle, with narrow brick paths that separated it into sections for each herb. Miniature purple coneflowers, her favorite butterfly plant, made a colorful, sweet-scented border around the entire garden. They strolled through the paths, sipping their iced tea, while Willow explained a bit about the uses of each plant. Hunter followed along, nodding, and making the occasional comment, as though he was truly interested.

I have no idea what I’m even saying. I can’t believe this could possibly interest him. Here we are, Hunter Painter and I, after all these years. Walking around my garden, and I don’t even know what I’m saying. God, if he stands any closer to me, I’m going to do something stupid, like touch him. Continue reading →

#FindingHunter Excerpt #2

September 15, 2015September 15, 2015 / Marcia Meara / Leave a comment

Thought I’d share a bit more of the romantic part of #FindingHunter with a scene from Chapter 3. First, the Chapter 3 snippet from the top of the page, then a moment from Hunter’s POV, as he has lunch with Willow Greene, something he’s terrified to be doing. (Hunter has issues. 😀 ) Later, I’ll share another scene from Chapter 3, from Willow’s POV, which that will include their first kiss. Hope you’ll enjoy this bit, and THAT one. 😉

CH 3 Snippet/Poem

Which way, he asks, face all sharp angles and bright teeth
Under a straw hat, and above his bib overalls.
South, I mumble, climbing into the car.
South toward death—but I don’t say
That part.
~ Traveling Man ~

Excerpt

His thoughts were tangled around each other in his head, and his mouth betrayed him, as usual. “Never have grown up, have you?” He saw the hurt in her eyes immediately.

“Why would you think that, Hunter?”

“Oh, God, I’m sorry, Willow. That didn’t come out like I meant it.”

“It sounded clear to me. You think I’m still a silly teenage girl, full of frivolous ideas.”

“No.” He gave a determined shake of his head. “Don’t think that at all. What I think is that the rest of us grew up … grew weary … grew complacent. We bent to the way of the world, beaten down, or just too tired or unhappy to care anymore. Some of us grew old by thirty. None of that happened to you. You grew up without letting the world kill who you are. Life may have touched you—or even hurt you—but it hasn’t changed you.”

Now she was staring at him, and he felt his face burn. “That’s what I meant,” he mumbled, studying the green and white checked tablecloth. “Just didn’t get it all out.”

“Oh. Well, then … thank you. I think? I mean, that’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

He raised his eyes to hers. “A very good thing. Nice to see.”

They finished up lunch, Hunter still feeling like a clumsy bumpkin, but doing his best not to spoil the mood again. Chatting more easily, they covered mutual friends, the challenges of taking care of an older home, and anything else Willow thought of. Hunter just went along for the ride, letting her pick topics that made her happy. He didn’t really care what the subject was, as long as he could sit there watching her hands fly and her eyes shine.

She’s the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen. It’s like talking to a being who’s made of pure joy. Gunn may not be able to see how she sparkles, but I do. She’s magic, all right. None of us are good enough for her, especially not a bumble-mouthed country nobody like me.

Finding Hunter available for download on Amazon. Print book coming soon.

Finding Hunter Excerpt #1

September 14, 2015September 14, 2015 / Marcia Meara / 6 Comments

Finding Hunter is Book 2 in my Riverbend series. It follows Swamp Ghosts, and can be read as a standalone, but since most of the characters were introduced in Swamp Ghosts, it makes more sense to read that one first.

At the beginning of Chapters 1 through 20, there is a “snippet” at the top of the page. I’ve included the one from Chapter 2 here, even though the excerpt is actually from the middle of Chapter 1. This is Willow Greene thinking back to meeting Hunter Painter when they were in the 11th grade at the small town high school. Enjoy!

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CH 2 Snippet First:

Before, I never thought about taking a life. Not once.
Now, the thought fills my mind day and night, and
I wonder how I’ll hide that terrible need,
As an old car swings to the shoulder,
And stops.
~ Traveling Man ~

************

CH 1 Excerpt:

He had been a quiet, thoughtful boy, cut from completely different cloth than his brothers. Forrest, a senior that year, and the oldest brother, Jackson, were like peas in a pod. Outgoing, popular, and always up to something. But not Hunter. He marched to that different drummer we’ve all heard tell of, always present, but never quite in the moment.

Willow was very popular with both girls and boys, but the more the other boys came calling, the more Willow had thought about Hunter. He never seemed to be dating anyone, and he always greeted her with a smile and a quiet word or two, but then he would turn away, ambling off to find a quiet spot by himself.

The only class they shared that first year was English, and even though Willow had chosen the seat directly behind Hunter, he never turned to talk to her before the final bell. In fact, he usually waited until the last minute to enter the room and take his seat, leaving Willow to stare at the soft, brown hair curling against his neck, fascinated by the slight bump of each vertebra marching along under his pale skin.

It was his neck that did it. I never would have loved him so much if I hadn’t fixated on that one bit of skin, right in front of my eyes, five days a week. Who falls in love with a neck? And who still remembers it sixteen years later?

All that junior year, Willow had longed for Hunter to call her, to ask her out, or at least to sit by her at lunch. But he never did, and she never told anyone—not even her best friend, Maggie—that out of all of the boys they knew, only Hunter Painter touched her heart.

****

Finding Hunter for Kindle is Available on Amazon now.

Miyuki, Harvard Girl by Eldon Brown

September 14, 2015September 15, 2015 / Marcia Meara / 3 Comments

Excerpt from Miyuki, Harvard Girl by Eldon Brown, soon to be available on Amazon.com:

     He knew that I had observed this procedure before, so I surmised that he had another reason to get me alone. There were some things that I wanted to ask him too. On the way to the orchid house, I just blurted out, “Mr. Seto, were you spying on me?”
     “Not spy,” he said, “watch.”
      “But why?” I asked.
     “It is Japanese way. Everyone is watched. You are seeing my daughter. I must know all about you.”
      “The present was a nice touch.”
     Seto smiled. “Yes, but you did not accept.” He paused and became more serious. “Mattu-san, by now I am sure that you know I am yakuza. It is no secret. Your FBI knows, the baseball players know. It is why I always have bodyguards. I don’t think Miyuki knows, and I would prefer that she believes I am just a simple farmer.” Just then the orchid truck departed from the orchid greenhouse.
     “Is it true that you clear fifty thousand dollars for each of these shipments?”
     He smiled again and offered a slight bow. “Your information not entirely correct. I must pay a commission on every order. Each politician has a budget for meetings and official functions. I pay them twenty-five percent commission.”
      “Isn’t that a bribe?”
      “No, not bribe, commission. We call it tea money.”
     I thought, One man’s bribe is another man’s incentive.
      He looked up at me and smiled. “I suppose you believe that some tea is not exchanged in your country when those big defense contracts are signed.” His eyes seemed to twinkle.