And now, back to our regularly scheduled program!
#ExcerptWeek Thank You! #MondayBlogs
Thanks for the best #ExcerptWeek, yet! More posts, more books to share, more fun! You guys ROCK!! We’ll do it again, soon, but please remember, you don’t have to wait for a special week to share excerpts with us. We love seeing what you’ve written all the time!
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#ExcerptWeek – PUCK’S CHOICE (Shifters & Mages, Book 1) by Skye Hegyes
Puck’s Choice by Skye Hegyes
Puck Dupree moved in with her sister after spending over a year trapped in the form of a fox. She had hoped to move on with a normal teenage life; however, trouble seems to have followed her.
The Council wants her to partner with a mage or forfeit her life, a friend of hers has a stalker who may or may not be trying to destroy her, and a boy at school keeps watching her. If only she could decide if he wants to kiss her or kill her.
Excerpt
Cassie looked up at her in shock. Puck could see her eyes were the same blue as her mother’s, but Puck watched them darken to a deep violet. Her own eyes widened in shock.
“Fox,” Cassie whispered in a voice so low, Puck might not have heard her if her hearing had been back to normal. All the hair on Puck’s body stood up and goose-bumps rose along her arms and on the back of her neck.
Okay. There’s nothing scary about a girl who looks at you and knows exactly what you are and says so in a voice that sounds possessed with demons. What is with this girl?
Puck stared at her. The girl shook her Shirley Temple curls until they bounced high and then looked at Puck. “I did it again, didn’t I?”
“What?” Puck squeaked. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Did what again?”
She frowned. “What did I say?”
“Fox,” Puck told her. “You just looked at me and said fox.” She realized her voice was low, and she recognized the fear crawling through her. This girl had looked at her and known exactly what she was without a thought.
What was that all about?
Her brow furrowed. “I’m sorry. That happens every once in a while when people look me in the eye. I can see souls.” Her eyes had returned to their blue state. “At least that’s what I think I can do.” Continue reading
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Deltona Authors’ Fair & Building A Local Readership #SundayBlogShare
Would You Buy a Used Car From This Person?
How About A Book?
I’ve posted my thoughts on building a local readership several times, but once in a while, it seems like a good idea to address it again, especially when I’ve been to an author event like yesterday’s Authors Fair at the Deltona Regional Library. I know it might not be something everyone enjoys as much as I do, but I really think attending local events where you can meet not only readers, but other writers, is a great way to promote your books, and most importantly, yourself.
I stress the importance of promoting yourself, because I have a theory that if readers meet you face to face, and enjoy chatting with you, they are very likely to buy a book or two that you’ve written. If not at the event, then later, for their Kindle, or whenever they are in the mood to go browsing at Amazon. (Of course, you must enjoy chatting with them, as well. They’ll know if you’re faking it.)
It’s not about the sales you make that day, which can be iffy. It’s about the ones that will be coming later, because of the interest generated from your table, and from your sparkling personality. You do have one of those, right? *grin* If not, work on it. But remember, everyone sparkles in a different way. Be yourself, be friendly, rather than pushy, and enjoy a laugh or two with those you chat with.
And the importance of meeting other writers, especially local ones, can’t be overstated, for several reasons. First, writers are truly the most supportive and informative group of people, ever. They are almost always willing to share experience, resources, knowledge, and pretty much anything else connected to the business of writing and marketing books. And, they (mostly) seem to know that their fellow writers are not competition, but rather a cheering section. After all, buying a book isn’t like picking out a sofa. Readers don’t buy one, and then stop. In fact, when readers enjoy a good book, all it does is make them want to read another one, right away. So, as with most businesses today, networking is a key factor. Author events offer you the opportunity to learn from, and share with, each other.
For instance, yesterday, I found out several very handy and interesting things about subjects as diverse as editing a book already published on CreateSpace, local book clubs, and even (believe it or not), the mask of King Tut! 🙂 And I also learned that my personal presentations and talks of the past year meant that a lot of folks who stopped by my table had met me before, read at least one of my books, and were looking for more. My Secret Plan is working! My immediate sales were better than I expected, and online purchases afterward went up, too.
After an event like yesterday, where there were forty authors present, or even after one of my (solo) PowerPoint presentations at local venues, I always see an uptick in sales on Amazon. Even those who don’t purchase a book from me the day of the event, often go home and check out my books online, where they can read the full blurb at their leisure, and see what others have to say, before buying. And this is fine with me. I’ll sell eBooks all day long, and smile with every download.
Finally, let me just (gently) urge you to get away from the computer now and then, so you can meet your readers (and other authors) face to face. You will learn a lot about what folks want from your books, and about how other writers approach the craft. And best of all, it’s fun!
Of all the local Meet the Author events I do, none is more fun than an Eco-Tour aboard the Naiad, with a local book club or other group. An afternoon on the St. Johns River is a treat for everyone, and halfway through the two-hour tour, we stop long enough for me to do a reading, then continue the scenic cruise. Back at the marina, I sign books and do some Q&A, and we all go home tired and happy. I have two Eco-tours coming up soon. April 30 and May 27. Call Doug or Jeanne at (386) 626-9004 for reservations. Hope to see some of you there! 🙂
Now it’s your turn. How many of you actively pursue opportunities of this kind? What has worked for you, and what hasn’t? Inquiring minds wanna know!
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The Rocking Chair – Kindle Edition by Debra Mauldin
‘The Rocking Chair’, a paranormal short story, is now available at: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B01DNGZFAW
Blurb
Marissa had faced the loss of her grandmother, mother, and grandfather. She thought she was coping well by throwing herself into her work, but when Marissa started hearing voices and seeing things move, she had to stop and wonder. Was she going insane or was there really an afterlife?
https://authordbmauldin.wordpress.com
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Two More Days of #ExcerptWeek!
Keep ’em coming, folks. Need help? Just email me, and I’ll set you up! And in the meantime, here’s something to make you smile. (Or laugh out loud, like I did.)
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#ExcerptWeek – JASPER – Book Two of The Tudor Trilogy by Tony Riches @tonyriches
Following the best-selling historical fiction novel OWEN – Book One of The Tudor Trilogy, this is the story, based on actual events, of Owen’s son Jasper Tudor, who changes the history of England forever.
England 1461: The young King Edward of York takes the country by force from King Henry VI of Lancaster. Sir Jasper Tudor, Earl of Pembroke, flees the massacre of his Welsh army at the Battle of Mortimer’s Cross and plans a rebellion to return his half-brother King Henry to the throne.
When King Henry is imprisoned by Edward in the Tower of London and murdered, Jasper escapes to Brittany with his young nephew, Henry Tudor. After the sudden death of King Edward and the mysterious disappearance of his sons, a new king, Edward’s brother Richard III takes the English Throne. With nothing but his wits and charm, Jasper sees his chance to make young Henry Tudor king with a daring and reckless invasion of England.
Set in the often brutal world of fifteenth century England, Wales, Scotland, France, Burgundy and Brittany, during the Wars of the Roses, this fast-paced story is one of courage and adventure, love and belief in the destiny of the Tudors.
~~~
Chapter One
February 1461
He held his breath and shivered as he strained to listen. Sound travelled well in the frosty woodland. The rustle of a blackbird foraging for worms in fallen leaves and the sudden, wooden creak of an old branch, bending in the cold air. He heard the noise again, the heavy scrape of hooves on the stony track, coming his way, hunting him. Too tired to run, he would not be taken prisoner by the men of Edward of York.
Jasper remembered his father’s warning. Their proud Welsh army marched over a hundred miles from Pembroke, stopping only at night and starting again each day at dawn, when his outrider returned with grave news. They had sighted York’s army camped near Mortimer’s Cross, on the old Roman road near the crossing of the River Lugg, directly in their path.
‘We should avoid them, head north under cover of darkness,’ his father suggested, his voice kept low so the men wouldn’t overhear. He had looked his age from their long, cold march across Wales. Too old to fight, his father insisted on riding with them. ‘I owe my life to King Henry,’ he argued, ‘and I owe it to your mother to support him now.’
Jasper recalled his terse reply. ‘It’s too late.’ He saw the pleading in his father’s eyes and softened his tone. ‘They know we are here, Father. I will try to negotiate terms if we are given the chance, but we must be ready to fight.’ In truth he doubted York would be in any mood for talking, since his own father, Richard, Duke of York, was beheaded by over-zealous Lancastrians the previous December.
Then came the news that Sir Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick, and York’s right-hand man, had captured King Henry, Jasper’s half-brother. He had thought York’s soldiers were no match for the men of Wales and the battle-hardened mercenaries who rode with them, but he could not have been more wrong. Their enemy outnumbered them more than two to one and proved to be experienced and well-prepared fighting men.
The salvo of arrows descended without warning in a black cloud of death. One struck deep into the neck of Jasper’s horse, which reared with a demented whinny of pain, throwing him from his saddle. He barely managed to scramble to his feet and draw his sword before York’s men-at-arms charged, hacking with axes, maces and swords, slashing and killing without mercy. Continue reading
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#ExcerptWeek Living in the Shadows by Judith Barrow
Chapter 56: Victoria
Sun 12th October
Victoria watched Melody being systematically ostracised by the rest of the group. No one spoke to her. They whispered about her and, when she approached or came close to any of them, they turned their backs on her. But, wherever she went, one of them followed her.
Victoria didn’t understand why they wouldn’t let her just leave.
‘She’s not allowed to go until the Master says she can,’ Amber explained. ‘He talks to her at night.’
‘At night?’
‘All night. He’s trying to make her understand how she won’t fit in on the outside anymore.’
He’s brainwashing her, Victoria thought, horrified. He’s trying to break her spirit. It made her stomach twist inside her.
Despite all her efforts to avoid any of the groups, all of them had tried to involve Victoria in the exclusion.
‘You can’t sit on the side-lines, Summer, it’s too dangerous,’ Amber said, while they were sitting around the table at suppertime.
‘What do you mean?’
‘She means we are a family, Summer.’ Chrystal stood behind them. We all rely on each other; for our food, our clothing and,’ she spread out her arms and looked around the dining room, ‘our shelter.’
‘It doesn’t seem fair, Chrystal. When you take our meditation sessions, you preach good vibes.’ Victoria deliberately said the word; she thought back to the last time the woman had gathered them together; yeah, ‘preach’ was definitely the right way to put it.
Still she made her face impassive when she saw Chrystal bristle.
Victoria looked across at Melody. Sitting on her own at a table that she’d been led to the day after her outburst, she was upright, arms folded. The meagre amount of food on the plate in front of her was ignored.
‘She is backsliding into temptation. There is nothing we can do for her now, Summer. It is up to the Master.’ Chrystal put her hand on Victoria’s shoulder. She felt the clench of her stomach muscles, tried to shut out the drone of Chrystal’s voice. ‘If she goes she will leave without his blessing. She is rebellious, disobedient. A castaway.’ Now she was leading Victoria towards the door and it was as though there was nothing for it but to go. ‘We have been watching your struggle over the past few days. We see your compassion for Melody. But it is misplaced.’ She leaned towards Victoria, her voice soft. ‘You need to decide where you loyalties are. With her, or with us, with our Master. He needs to know, Summer.’
Victoria glanced over to the top table where Seth sat alone. He was watching her.
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Living in the Shadows
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Living in the Shadows
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Living in the Shadows
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Living in the Shadows
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#ExcerptWeek & Blurb – THE PRINCE’S SON by Deborah Jay
Those of you who follow my blog have already seen this blurb, but for those who haven’t, this is the back cover copy for my soon-to-be released sequel to THE PRINCE’S MAN (epic fantasy).
THE PRINCE’S SON
Nessa Haddo has been raised to pursue what every young noblewoman needs: a suitable husband. Unfortunately for her, as a younger twin, her prospects are limited. Things start to look up when she lays eyes on the handsome foreign envoy sent to escort her sister to an arranged marriage, but her romantic fantasies quickly entangle her in events beyond her darkest nightmares.
Compared to his last mission, ex-spy Rustam Chalice’s new assignment sounds simple: wrangle an unwieldy bridal caravan across a mountain range populated by bandits, trolls, werecats and worse, try to cajole a traumatized princess out of her self-imposed isolation, and arrive on time for the politically sensitive wedding. What could possibly go wrong?
Meanwhile, Lady Risada—the woman who haunts Rustam’s dreams—is struggling to adjust to a normal life. All her carefully honed assassin’s instincts scream warnings of foul play, yet she can find nothing obviously amiss.
And deep in the halls of a mountain clan, an old enemy plucks his victim’s strings with expert malice.
Excerpt
Something moved beyond the picket line.
Nessa froze. Her heart stopped beating, and then thudded so loudly she was certain whoever was there must hear it. Surely it had to be one of their party slipping away to relieve themselves? It could not be either Rustam or Sala unless they had circled around beyond the horses, and why would they?
She stumbled an involuntary step back, gave a little cry as metal dug into her back, then realised she was pressed up against one of the ribs of the wagon.
The shadowy figure stopped, appeared to be sniffing the air.
That made up her mind. No human scented like that. She did not know what it was, but it wasn’t one of them. Continue reading
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#Excerpt Week – Motherlove by Thorne Moore
Motherlove. Mrs Parish is universally believed to have murdered her missing baby, 22 years before.
~~~
‘Mrs. Parish.’ The tone was hostile, struggling to be polite, as if the speaker would much rather have spat.
She stopped at the foot of the stairs, and turned. Mrs. Bone was peering round her front door, lips pursed. ‘Mrs. Parish. The graffiti. It’s there again.’
‘I didn’t put it there.’
‘No, well, I never said you did, but we all know why it’s there, don’t we? And it’s not nice! None of it’s nice.’
‘It’s not nice for me either.’
‘Whose fault’s that?’ Mrs. Bone slammed her door shut.
Mrs. Parish continued up the stairs. Fifth floor flat. She could have taken the lift, but she’d made that mistake a month ago. She’d found herself trapped with a burly resident who felt obliged to make his feeling clear with his fists. When she escaped, someone called the police. Not an ambulance, just the police.
The latest incident in the park had set off the usual ritual – the tip off to the local papers, the carefully legal tabloid sniping, then the abusive letters, the graffiti, the vigilante rage. Every few years it flared up, usually ending in an assault, a trip to the hospital. She knew by now how to handle it: wait for things to die down, then she’d quietly move on, find a new flat where her neighbours didn’t know her.
The solution was simple. Everyone knew it. She knew it. She should move out of the area. But she wouldn’t. Not till she had her answer.
She was out of breath when she reached her own front door. A red spray can had been used. Lots of it, randomly, like blood splatter. The words ‘Baby Killer’ were scrawled across the door and onto the adjoining wall. Probably a dog turd shoved through the letter box too. There usually was.
Then she noticed the figure.
Hunched, at the end of the corridor, hood up, rising from the ground now like an evil imp.
Her fingers fumbled with her key. She could feel the month-old bruises on her cheek flare up in anticipation, as the figure strode forward.
Then the hood went back. Not a hoodie but a cagoule, not a boy but a girl. A young woman, lank hair, long face white and desperate. No evident hatred, but the girl was strangely rigid.
‘You’re the one, aren’t you?’ the girl demanded. ‘The woman everyone said killed her baby.’ Continue reading
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