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SMILE! Free Book Today!

10/16/2014

Yesterday I lost someone very special to me, my horse, Fansi. My family has owned her from the very beginning. I slept in the back of a van parked in the aisle of my barn waiting for her mother to give birth to her, and even then I almost missed her being born. Horses are sneaky little things. :-)

Fansi and I had 22 years together, and yesterday afternoon she crossed the Rainbow Bridge. She's now kicking her heels up with all of her friends who have gone before--Moe, Mariah, Jake, Pepper, Sugar, and her mom.

Obviously, I'm sad. I knew for a couple of days prior to her passing that it was likely, so I planned in advance to do something happy for others.

On October 15 and 16, I'm offering my children's/Middle Grade book, DANIEL THE DRAW-ER, for free Kindle download. No strings attached, just wanted to do something nice and for people to be happy. (And, yes, I meant to post this yesterday, but I wasn't feeling up to writing this blog post. Sorry about being a day late!)

Click here or on the picture below to go directly to Amazon to download your copy before the promotion ends tonight. Don't forget to smile. :-)

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First Glimpse of Frozen Hearts

9/25/2014

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I'm super-excited to share with you today! I've invited one of my buddies, Topaz, from my Sky Writers critique group, to reveal the cover of her upcoming Young Adult novel. It's called FROZEN HEARTS, and it's going to be an ahhhh-mazing must-read.

For the record, I think Topaz is one of the most talented writers (and all-around person) I know. And--get this!--she's a teenager. I'm pretty sure she's tired of people pointing that out, but it gives me hope for when my teenager puts off his homework in favor of everything else under the sun. Some kids write and have goals. It could happen to him, too. Heehee.

Okay, on to FROZEN HEARTS. Feast on its loveliness, won't you?

Frozen Hearts

Do you want to build a snowman?

“Rose, don’t try to tell me what’s real or not real. I live and breathe impossibilities.”

Rosalyn Lawrence is not the type of girl who strays from the norm. She’s not the type of girl who goes on whirlwind adventures or travels across the world and beyond or fights fire-breathing dragons to the death. After all, fairytales exist only in books, and Rosalyn is happy to keep it that way.

But when her beloved little brother Benjamin disappears, Rosalyn’s entire world comes crashing down. Then a boy with a wand climbs through her window and she learns that the grieving queen of a shockingly desolate enchanted land has abducted Benjamin. If she chooses to be sucked into the magic of this land, its power – and the power of an enemy she isn’t quite sure even exists – could destroy her.

A world of frozen fantasy is waiting for Rosalyn – and if she will succeed in bringing Benjamin home, she must learn how to trust herself, use her wits, and perhaps discover an inner magic she never knew she had.

Excerpt

Rosalyn woke in the middle of the night.

Her head was clouded, cobwebs of sleep still lingering, a fog drifting over her senses. The surface she was lying on was soft. As she sat up she saw a figure, not quite near enough to touch, motionless on the floor. She couldn’t seem to recall his name.

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness she realised that his shirt was off and his back was to her, bare in the soft moonlight. She looked out the window. The stars seemed to glisten, impossibly dense confetti scattered over the blanket of night. The moon hung suspended as if from a child’s mobile.

She stood, moving closer to the figure on the floor. The rise and fall of his chest was almost imperceptible. His face was still just out of her line of sight, his name still just out of the grasp of her slumber-clouded memory.

In the moonlight she caught a glimpse of something on his back. Her fingers glided down to it and she traced it, feather light, afraid for reasons she could not fathom of waking him. The scar joined another and another, until all at once she realised that she was connecting a veritable constellation of pain across the canvas of his back.

She gazed down at them. They were old, she could tell, but they still looked painful. The skin was gnarled, as if some heavenly hand had reached down, ripped it off of his back, and then bunched it up and pasted it haphazardly back on – and she knew she should be horrified at the sight, knew she should be pitying him or turning away in revulsion, yet she could not bring herself to. All she felt was the inherent need to know: how had he gotten them? Did they still hurt?

Was Chase all right?

And there was his name, pulled from the graveyard of her memory: Chase. A boy with a crooked smile and a secret she’d never been meant to discover.

Somewhere in the back of her mind a deep voice with a cold accent surfaced, murmuring something about his father. What had he told her? She struggled to remember, and finally it hit her. “Let’s just say he wasn’t the best role model,” the voice had said.

The gashes were long healed, yet so deep, so thick and ragged that she almost didn’t want to think about who might have put them there – his father? she wondered, and then wished the thought had never crossed her mind.

She couldn’t bear to look at them for a moment longer. Turning away from his pockmarked body, she glanced up at the stars once more before climbing back into the small cot and letting sleep overtake her – an uneasy sleep, riddled with nightmares of long, thin sticks of ice, dark men and evil laughter, unbearable pain lacing through her back. This time the stars did not look like confetti, but teardrops.

In the morning, she would have no memory of her nighttime awakening.

And the boy lying across from her would never tell her that his eyes had been open the whole time.

About Topaz Winters

Topaz Winters is a songbird, word hoarder, and cheesecake connoisseur. Sometimes she composes music. Other times she writes books. If she knows you, she’s probably written about you. Topaz’s debut novel, Frozen Hearts, drops this year, and her first album in 2015. She enjoys strong coffee, ugly cats, and the taste of words.

Topaz rambles about writing, music, and the meaning of life over at her website.

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In the Rearview with Maria Ann Green

9/20/2014

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Switching directions today to talk about my friend Maria Ann Green's New Adult/Young Adult book, IN THE REARVIEW. Most of the books I've featured on my blog so far have been pretty lighthearted, or intended for younger readers. IN THE REARVIEW dives deep into a serious topic few even dare to discuss--cutting--and the journey the main character, Meagan, faces in order to heal her scars. So much pain and power in one book!

Read on to learn more about Maria's haunting novel.

Heartbreak, Healing, Hope.

When Meagan’s secret is found out, and she realizes there is no way to outrun her habit of cutting, she tries to work through it, and her depression, before she cuts too deep, making a mistake that can never be undone.

Meagan's problems aren't like every other adolescent's no matter how much she wishes they could be. Hers are worse. They've pulled her down into the depths of a depression that is anything but normal. She begins her pattern of self-harm as her depression threatens to drown her. She starts with one cut that leads to the next, and the next. After starting, it's apparent that there's no stopping, and Meagan spirals into a dark and cruel world she doesn't understand. Meagan cuts to feel better, but that comfort doesn't last long enough, and soon life is worse than it ever was before.

While learning to quit cutting Meagan faces life-altering obstacles and grows up in the process. IN THE REARVIEW is a story of pain, loss, confusion, and hope told through Meagan’s poems, journal entries, and a splash of narrative.

Excerpt

Meagan stared down at her desk. Her focus moved beyond the assignment in front of her without actually seeing what she was looking toward. There were lines, spaces of white, and blobs of writing, but nothing seemed important enough to consider closely. Truthfully she didn’t care.

She didn’t feel the need to focus.

Her gaze slowly moved up to the front of the classroom, and again she fixated on a point past what was before her. She did not concentrate on the teacher. There was a face, a moving mouth, but she didn’t connect it with the sounds struggling slowly, like sticky sludge past her ears. She didn’t hear the instructions being uttered; each word fell on deaf ears as she mindlessly doodled.

Twisting her hair around her finger, she thought about how nice it would be to be at home, in bed, with the curtains closed instead of in this loud and hyper school. It seemed her classmates had recently started caring too much about what was going on around them. There was too much drama, too much noise, too much concern jumping all around her. It was all so taxing.

It was such a bother.

Meagan, in contrast, was usually in a world of her own. Her head felt fuzzy most of the time, and unless she used a lot of energy, most conversations sounded muffled, like there was cotton in her ears. She didn’t feel the need to engage anymore. Her desire to try so hard just to do what had once come easily had dwindled to nothing. At first she’d tried, but not now. Not anymore. It had become too difficult to care.

And that was her biggest problem. Meagan didn’t care much about any of these changes. She was fine walking through school without any effort. Her feet felt a little heavier as each day passed, and her head felt a little more under pressure of a crushing fog that numbed her, but she pushed through it all. She didn’t mind neglecting what used to bring her excitement. In fact, it was just easier not to give a crap.

Everything was distinctly lackluster these days.

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About Maria

Maria Green currently lives in Minnesota, despite its bitter winters, with her husband. She graduated with a degree in Psychology and a minor in English. When she isn’t writing, Maria loves to read with a cup of strong coffee or a glass of sweet wine, craft, and spend time with her family. This is her first published novel.

Connect with Maria

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Goodreads (IN THE REARVIEW)
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The Legend of Ghost Dog Island

9/18/2014

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I can't believe I haven't posted anything for an entire week! Wow, I have no idea where all that time went. Actually, I do, but it would make a very boring blog post. I'll save you all of that to say, I'm here now, and I've invited my friend Rita Monette to give us the low-down on her Middle Grade book, THE LEGEND OF GHOST DOG ISLAND.

Side note: Maybe you've noticed (I have!) that a lot of my writer friends write about dogs. Talking dogs, dogs who live with witches, ghost dogs, you name it. Before you ask, no, that's not a prerequisite to being my friend and/or featuring a book on my blog. Apparently that just means that dogs are so interesting that they are in a lot of books. If my dogs were featured in a book, though, it probably wouldn't be that interesting. And it would probably have a title like WOOFWOOFWOOF: ENTER THE POSTMAN or WHY CAN'T I HAVE MORE TREATS?: ONE DOG'S STRUGGLE TO KEEP HER GIRLISH FIGURE.

See? Boring.

However, Rita Monette's THE LEGEND OF GHOST DOG ISLAND is anything but boring. Keep reading to learn more about this howling great mystery.

Behind Every Legend Lies the Truth

Moving is nothing new for ten-year-old Nikki Landry. Her fisherman father relocates their raggedy old houseboat several times a year in search of better crabbing spots. However, their latest move has brought her to a mysterious bayou where she feels something is watching her from a nearby island.

Nikki learns of a local legend about something sinister inhabiting those swamps, stealing the souls of dogs…which would explain the strange howling sounds. Papa reassures her there’s nothing on the island but gators and snakes. He would know. He’s spent his whole life trapping and fishing those bayous and swamps. But Nikki and her new friends uncover strange happenings from years ago that may have started the old legend, and town folks aren’t talking. Then her beloved beagle goes missing.

Join Nikki as she seeks to discover the real truth behind the legend of Ghost Dog Island…before it’s too late.

Excerpt

Mama closed the door behind her. She knew once Papa got going on one of his tales, there was no stopping him.

The last traces of daylight seemed to disappear in a hurry, as if Papa had ordered it away. The glass globe of the kerosene lamp clinked. He touched a match to the wick and adjusted the flame until it filled the room with pale light and gray shadows. He motioned me to sit next to him on the worn sofa.

I hurried to his side, not knowing what spooky legend he was going to tell this time. But as scared as I’d get, I always enjoyed hearing ’em.

“Mais, there’s a legend told around these parts.” That was how they always started out. He leaned down so the light from the lamp made eerie shadows across his face.

I rolled my eyes, determined not to get spooked this time.

“Folks say there’s something living out yonder,” he went on. “Legend has it the monster lures dogs to the island using evil spells. Then at the peak of the full moon, they’re turned into hollow spirits with glowing eyes.” Papa put on his eeriest sneer. “That there’s Ghost Dog Island.”

“Ghost dogs?” I pulled my knees up against my chest and wrapped my arms around ’em tight. My mind conjured up images of a huge monster with drippy fangs and dogs with bright yellow eyes. I thought about the feeling I had of something watching us. Was there really a creature out there? Did it have its eye on my best buddy? I shuddered.

IEEEOWWWOOOO-oooooooo! The howling sound echoed again across the bayou.

Get the Book

Musa Publishing

Amazon

About Rita Monette

Rita Monette was born and raised in Southwest Louisiana. After retiring from her job as an administrative assistant for the State of Michigan, Rita began doing what she always wanted to do…write, draw, and paint. Five long years later, Musa Publishing offered her a contract for her debut middle grade novel, The Legend of Ghost Dog Island, and now the sequel, The Curse at Pirate’s Cove, which also include her artwork. Her stories are set in the beautiful, yet mysterious, bayous and swamps of her home state. Rita now lives with her husband, four lap dogs, and one lap cat, in the mountains of Tennessee.

Connect with Rita

Author website
Blog
Facebook
Twitter

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Time Warp With S. J. Henderson

9/10/2014

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My friends still call me "Swirly" because of this outfit. It's awesome, right?

We had such a blast with Krysten Lindsay Hager's Middle School Time Warp (and her gorgeous orange-ish Sun-In hair) the other day, that we decided to keep it going. Today I'm on Krysten's blog, sharing some of my best and worst school memories... and some pretty horrendous photos. Stop by her blog and cringe along with me!

Then share with us in the comments (here, or on Krysten's blog) some of your funniest and humiliating stories!

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Middle School Time Warp With Krysten Lindsay Hager

9/8/2014

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In honor of kids everywhere returning to the hallowed halls of learning, or whatever, I've invited my homegirl Krysten Lindsay Hager over to play a game of Truth or Dare. Well, mostly it's a game of Truth, as she's taking us back to her middle school days with her rad answers.

If you haven't met Krysten before, she's the totally tubular author of TRUE COLORS. TRUE COLORS is about middle-schooler Landry and her group of friends, and the totally outrageous things that happen when Landry ends up on a modeling reality t.v. show. Let's just say, it's not pretty! Middle-schoolers and middle-schoolers at heart will relate to (and cringe along with) Landry and her frenemies.

You can find TRUE COLORS on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, iBooks, Kobo, and just about anywhere digital books are sold.

You should totally buy this book. Everyone's doing it, it's no big deal.

Now, for a little Truth or Dare...

Always on time or always late? Oh, I can’t lie. Late. I could have used a Harry Potter invisibility cloak to slip into class unnoticed. In my book, my character Landry always just slips in the door after the bell and that was totally me.

Teacher’s pet, worst nightmare, or fly beneath the radar? Tried to fly under the radar. I can’t say I was a nightmare or anything, but really tried to stay out of the line of vision.

Buy lunch or bring lunch? Bought my lunch. I don’t know if anyone else remembers this from my school, but the cookies always tasted like they weren’t really baked. They ruined chocolate chip cookies for me for years and I never cared for cookie dough ice cream because I didn’t get the appeal of cookie dough. I am pleased to report I never got salmonella and died from those.

Be honest--grafitti on the desk, on the notebook, or both? (Bonus points if also on the bathroom stall door. Bonus points if you don’t tell anyone I’m giving you bonus points for defacing school property.) I went to a strict private school and they would have removed my hands for defacing school property. I did write all over my Trapper Keeper (Mrs. Jon Knight, Mrs. Troy Aikman, Mrs. George Michael.) But in high school, I wrote all on my desk during a math test. We were supposed to do math in our heads, but that just wasn’t going to happen.

Favorite Spirit Week dress-up day? The school colors were blue and gold and the uniform colors were navy and white—I look awful in all of those colors, so really that did nothing for my school spirit. It might have even broken it a little. Landry says she looks like a dead goldfish in her school uniform colors and I second that for myself.

High school mascot? It was a bobcat. In middle school it was a panther. I think a panther could take a bobcat in a fight.

Most embarrassing school memory? I once walked into school with a Velcro roller still stuck in my hair. Not my finest hour.

Worst class ever? Anything with math.

Did you play any sports? If yes, what? Does shopping count? What about lip gloss applying?

Favorite after-school activity? (Bonus points if it involves “After School Special” and you can remember the specific name.) I took dance classes. There may or may not be a video somewhere of me in a and Minnie Mouse costume dancing to “Hey Mickey,” when I was twelve. I was tall and let’s just say I looked older than twelve and the costume looks positively obscene on me. I never thought anyone would see it, but one of the girls in the number went on to be a Rockette or something and they ran that performance of all things on the news because of her. I thought no one would recognize me with my mouse ears, but I got phone calls. I still cringe over that one.

Tell us about your first middle-school boyfriend. (Bonus points if he pegged his pants or had a rat tail.) I think I can accept those bonus points for the pants. He was at least a foot shorter than me and he went to a different school so I felt so cosmopolitan.

Favorite band? The Bangles were my fave in sixth grade and their Everything cover inspired the characters: Landry, Peyton, Devon, and India.

Compare your middle-school hairstyle to an animal. Be creative. (For example, if you sported a mohawk, you could say “skunk” or “porcupine” or something else mohawk-y because that’s all my brain is coming up with right now. Bonus points for a photo of said hairdo.) Probably skunky because there was an unfortunate moment with Sun-In in the 7th grade. However, if you keep up with the Sun-In and the excessive blow drying it will turn dark brown hair from orange to gold to a sickly wheat color.

Krysten then. I love the Glamour Shots pose.

Celebrity crush? Oh wow, how much time do you have? I liked George Michael for years, Jon Knight, Troy Aikman, Grant Hill, Jalen Rose…those are the ones I remember and am willing to own up to.

Fashion must-have? In middle school we were limited to what we could wear, so bracelets were my go-to for my school uniform (particularly friendship bracelets and bangles), but in high school I was obsessed with Versace jeans. In middle school I owned that Esprit purse that every single girl in my zip code had. I think at one point is was illegal not to own it. I didn’t even like it because I thought it was boring and I wrote a short story about that stupid bag.

About Krysten

Krysten now, no Sun-In

Krysten Lindsay Hager is an author and book addict. She is originally from Michigan and has lived in South Dakota, Portugal, and currently resides in Southern Ohio where you can find her reading and writing when she’s not catching up on her favorite shows (like Hart of Dixie, The Goldbergs, Dallas, and Devious Maids.) She’s worked as a journalist and humor writer, and also writes middle grade, YA, and adult fiction. You can find her work in the Patchwork Path anthologies: Friendship Star, and also Grandma's Choice and in several of the Country Comfort Cookbooks as well as many humor essays and news articles. Her debut novel, TRUE COLORS, was released by Astraea Press this summer. You can see what she’s reading and reviewing at the Book Foodies blog

Connect With Krysten

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Facebook
Twitter
Goodreads

And don't forget to enter the Rafflecopter giveaway to win a copy of Mindy Mymudes' GEORGE KNOWS or my DANIEL THE DRAW-ER! Only a few more days to share and enter!

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George Knows - A Doggone Great Middle Grade Read + GIVEAWAY!!

9/3/2014

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It's been, what?, a whole week since my last feature about a talking animal? If you're counting my last "Names Changed To Protect the Innocent" blog about Whiskers, then it's been even less than that. I'm a firm believer that one simply cannot get enough talking animals.

Lucky for all of you that I've got another story--GEORGE KNOWS by Mindy Mymudes--about a smart pup who can communicate with his Girlpup, Karly. Even more cool, GEORGE KNOWS just won a Reader's Favorite award for Children's Books for grades 4-6. Pretty awesome!

Keep reading for more about the award-winning GEORGE KNOWS. And when you're done reading about George, don't forget to enter to win a Kindle version of GEORGE KNOWS or my book, DANIEL THE DRAW-ER. Giveaway ends at 12 a.m. on 09/13/14!

Click on this picture for Readers' Favorite's review of George Knows

George Knows

An egotistical magical basset hound named George believes it's his duty to train and protect his 12-year-old Girlpup, a greenwitch named Karly. He and his Girlpup must solve a murder as well as save their park from being developed. George is the perfectly designed familiar for the job.

Excerpt

I don’t understand my Girlpup; the rest of my Pack adores me. Packmom Doreen is always an easy conquest. She saved me when I was a puppy and I fell over my ears, and my legs wouldn’t stay under me. She is the most important member of the Pack—she feeds us.

Just not often enough.

Packdad Brian is very well trained and does whatever Packmom Doreen wants. In the last two years, I’ve become a model of the perfect hunting hound. Karly needs to see me for what I am, and she doesn’t.

Yet.

When I prowl in her mind, I see how she pictures me—a clumsy, stupid, wobbly pup. I shouldn’t have to prove to her I am the best familiar in the world or that I am brilliant. I shouldn’t, but I know I’ll have to.

“George!” she shouts through panting. Why is she running? “Where the heck are you?”

Although Karly’s scent changed after her twelfth birthday from sweetmilkFrootLoops to that fakeflowerchemical that she thinks removes her odor, I know it’s her. Even if I can’t smell her, I can still hear her stumble over the path. Big rocks and trees that scrape the sky get in the way. She needs to get lower to the ground. Now she’s sneezing. If only she’d work with me, her allergies would go bye-bye. Whoever heard of an allergic witch-in-training? We can use green magic. But Karly will first have to trust me.

And she doesn’t.

Yet.

Maybe when she gets older.

She will.

I continue to scrape my claws into the damp ground, searching for more smelltastes and listening for my Girlpup. She’s panting like it’s a hot day. At least she’s catching up. I am satisfied she’s okay, and dig like a badger with my wonderful big paws and claws, the ideal excavation tools. I wish I was digging up the den of a rabbit. I slow to sniff.

No.

There’s no rabbit here.

Something different’s calling me.

What the heck is it?

Dirt and roots pile up behind me, and my rear is now higher than my front as I dig. I scrape against rocks and try to push them away. They aren’t rocks—too long and thin. I wrap my jaws around one and toss it with a headshake out of the hole. I find another and do the same thing, until there is a pile of buff-colored things that look like bleached driftwood.

I heave myself out of the hole and investigate my find. The thick sticks are hairy with fine roots. I pick one up. It’s light for its size, hollow, and about the size of a rawhide bone. It has a round knob on one side and is broken off on the other. I retrieve more pieces from the hole and sit.

Maybe they are old branches.

No.

They don’t smelltaste like old branches.

Hmmm.

Karly finally shows up, huffing and puffing, out of breath. She needs to get out more. I poke my nose into the pile of things I’ve dug out. “George, what are you doing? You aren’t, um, eating those, are you?”

I look at her like she’s crazy. I don’t eat wood.

Anymore.

Karly points to the things and counts them. “So what did you find? There are nine of whatever they are.” She bends down and touches one. “Weird, they look like someone snapped them in half.” My Girlpup takes one of the longer things and rubs off the dirt.

She drops it like it’s a pan just out of the oven. I take a sniff; it’s not hot. There’s something here, though.

Not a good something, either.

“G-G-George, those are bones,” Karly’s voice breaks as she stutters over my name. I take another sniff. Yeah, they could be bones. What’s the problem with that? I lick one. It tastes like dirt. They’ve been here a long time.

Yup.

That’s it.

Just a bunch of animal bones. Maybe a big dog buried them. What’s bothering her? The hackles rise on the back of my neck. The not good gassulfurdrysnakecatstink smelltaste spins around my brain like smoke.

Oh.

Oh no.

I hack and cough. I know exactly what kind of bones these are.

I look Karly in the eye and push a picture of a Halloween skeleton. I know she doesn’t like it when I go into her head without permission, but this is important. I am not sharing the good stuff, like manure, rotting fish, and dead animals.

“No way. These aren’t human bones,” she squeaks and backs up.

Nope, she can’t ignore these. I pick one up gently between my teeth and carry it to her feet. I carefully place it in front of her toes then shake my muzzle, lips flopping from side to side, trying to get the taste of Peep bone out of my mouth. Peep bone.

It’s awful.

Bassets do not eat Peeps’ bones. We only chew non-peep bones. We need our Peeps to hunt for our fresh, meaty bones.

“George, leave it. We need to talk to Aunt Heather about them. She’ll know if they’re human or not, and what to do if they are.” Karly gulps. “If they aren’t…I hope they aren’t. You’ve never smelled human bones, so how’d you know?”

Um, I am your familiar. I have magical skills? There’s something off about the bones, and a weak scent gets stronger as I inhale.

Blegh.

It’s a really bad smelltaste.

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About Mindy Mymudes

Mindy--uhhm, Mandy--is doggone adorable.

Mindy Mymudes runs with the Muddy Paws Pack in Milwaukee, WI. She insists she is alpha, even as the dogs walk all over her.

She's worked in a hazardous waste lab, where under the sign for the Right To Know law, was added: if you can figure it out. she's been a metals tech, a bakery clerk, a professional gardener, and taught human anatomy and ran two university greenhouses. Along the way she picked up her Master's Degree in Biology, specializing in the population genetics of an endangered plant. She is also a top breeder, handler, trainer of English springer spaniels, with three in the equivalent of the National Club's (ESSFTA) hall of fame. Every time she thinks she knows dogs, another dog comes along and proves her beliefs are totally wrong.

Mindy Mymudes is actually the Nom De Thumbs for me, Mandy, a well known English springer spaniel.

Connect with Mindy... Uh... Mandy? Mymudes

Website
Facebook
Twitter
GoodReads

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Triple Threat or Double Trouble? Interview with Jo Noelle

9/1/2014

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Today I'm happy to host author Jo Noelle... or should I say authors Jo Noelle? Jo Noelle is the pen name of a mother and daughter writing team made up of Canda Mortensen and Deanna Henderson (Hey, Deanna! Cool last name!). While some ladies write and publish one book at a time, today I'm floored to announce three, count 'em, THREE brand new releases by this duo.

First, let's learn a little bit about Canda and Deanna (collectively Jo Noelle, remember). Then we'll move onto each of the three books, and give readers a chance to enter a super-fantastic giveaway for $100 Amazon Gift Card (swooooooon!). Grab your favorite drink and let's get down to some serious girl talk.

Interview

1. What music do you like?

Deanna: I don’t know how to answer that. Do you mean today? I listen to everything, rock, classical, rap, alternative, opera. And I know the words and sing along—with the opera songs sometimes I sing gibberish until I know the words again.

Canda: Rock. I like rock. Not soft rock—it’s not really rock. I like alternative too. My favorite bands are (in order of their appearance in my life) KISS, Aerosmith, (I really liked the BeeGees but I’ll deny it in public), Nirvana, Good Charlotte, and Linkin Park.

2. What kind of books do you like?

Deanna: I like “issue” book. I like self-helpy books. I like YA romance and Chick-lit. Oh and travel books especially the ones with itineraries that tell you what to eat where and give you maps.

Canda: I like snarky characters, romance is the story not the subplot, and paranormal is a big plus. I hate contemporary literary fiction. Gahhh! Too many issues to deal with in my spare time.

3. What is your favorite snack?

Deanna: chocolate covered macadamia nut with caramel cluster things you buy at Costco.

Canda: Peanut M&Ms

4. Teaser for your book in one sentence?

Falling in love is easy in fiction--in high school, not so much.

5. What is your writing process?

We make an outline, chuck it out the window before chapter 2, we argue, negotiate, plead, pout, sometimes threaten to quit. Then we compromise and keep writing. And we laugh a lot.

6. What was your road to publication like?

We wrote the books, rewrote them a few times, got lots of feedback, rewrote them again, sent them to an editor, rewrote, another editor, rewrote.

7. Favorite dessert?

Deanna: Muddy Buddies

Canda: chocolate mousse

About the Books

Lexi’s Pathetic Fictional Love Life

Lexi Middleton has been socially invisible to her classmates, but starting her junior year, that’s going to change. First, she’s determined to hook a boyfriend, ensuring dates with flowers and possible kisses on the doorstep. Second, she wants to be a writer for the school paper, even though it freaks her out to think of everyone judging her by her punctuation and metaphors. High school is difficult enough—keeping up her grades, dealing with increasing sibling rivalry, and trying to stay out of the way of her personal nemesis, Amberlee—but when Lexi catches the eye of her long-time crush, she also becomes the focus of mean-girl tactics. Caught between who she was and who she wants to be, Lexi must decide how to confront a bully, and choose who to let into her heart.

Damnation

Cassie is going to heaven—if she can get amnesty from hell in the next twenty days. Her assignment is to change the eternal destination of a girl in Albuquerque to earn admittance into heaven.

            No sweat.

But when Cassie returns to earth during her three-week, mostly-mortal assignment, her old habits get in the way, (apparently habits don’t die when you do), the partners assigned to help her are anything but helpful, and it turns out the girl she is supposed to help is the only enemy she made on her first day of school.

            Oh, I’m so going to hell.

Things aren’t all bad—it helps to have a hot angel on your side. Mmm-Marc. Even though he’s all about heavenly business, Cassie would like to make it personal.

            Assignment with benefits.

Newbie

The housing market is crashing, and Sophie’s life is crashing with it. At twenty-four, her successful real estate career evaporates. She’s broke, can’t find a job, or pay her bills, leaving Sophie wondering how her successful lifestyle became so fragile.

At the urging of her roommate, Sophie accepts a job in her fallback career—teaching six-year-olds. She hopes it’s temporary. After all, how long can a tanking economy last anyway? The best part of the new job is Liam, another employee at Rio Grande Elementary. The worst part of the new job is, well, teaching.

Sophie has a surprise real estate closing from a contract she wrote months ago, leading her to a niche in the real estate market and to a new partner, Kevin. Sophie must choose between Liam or Kevin and between a lucrative career or recess duty.

Meet Jo Noelle

Jo Noelle grew up in Colorado and Utah but also spent time in Idaho and California. She has two adult children and three small kids.

She teaches teachers and students about reading and writing, grows freakishly large tomatoes, enjoys cooking especially for desserts, builds furniture, sews beautiful dresses, and likes to go hiking in the nearby mountains.

Oh, and by the way, she’s two people—Canda Mortensen and Deanna Henderson, a mother/daughter writing team.

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Lexi’s Pathetic Fictional Love Life

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Battlefield Muse, a Short Story

8/28/2014

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I thought I would share with you a short story today, written by my lovely friend Kathryn Trattner. This is a short piece, but it's haunting and poetic, and I'm sure my older readers will enjoy it. This is only the first portion of the story. A link near the bottom of the excerpt will take you to the remainder of the story, originally published on Wyvern Lit's website. Thanks!

Each blast separate, unique, the bombs falling from the sky and getting nearer. After months at the front Sam could tell roughly where they’d land, how far from him they’d be. He ducked, dirt pattering down, plunking on his helmet, dusting his shoulders. He didn’t bother brushing it away.

At first he’d covered his ears, hunched his shoulders, pulled his head in like a turtle. Not now. The man beside him coughed, hacking blood. He’d been too slow with his mask the last time they’d been gassed. But he hadn’t told the commanding officer. The man wanted to stay, half buried in the earth, sweating and bleeding and dying by inches in the trenches.

Sam touched his pocket, felt the wad of paper there, the comfort of civilization when nothing else appeared sane. The words were a lifeline, a rope, to a world that he’d forgotten. He knew, he had to believe, that it remained, past the machine gun nests and the field hospital, away on the hazed horizon.

His belief alone would make it real.

He fumbled the packet free, digging out the stub of a pencil he’d kept, whittled, and preserved.

He began to write.

To read the remainder of "Battlefield Muse", please click here. (Link will take you to the original article on Wyvern Lit's website).

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Visit Kathryn's website to see what she's working on now.

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Teens, Time Travel, and Timekeepers... Oh My!

8/20/2014

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Let's give a big welcome to my friend Sharon Ledwith, who is not only a fantastic writer, but also the lady to have on your side while learning about writing and promoting books. I've learned a lot from her in the short time we've known one another, and I'm proud to be able to share a little bit about her newest release. So, buckle up those safety belts, kiddos. Here we go...

Legend of the Timekeepers

There is no moving forward without first going back.

Lilith was a young girl with dreams and a family before the final destruction of Atlantis shattered those dreams and tore her family apart. Now refugees, Lilith and her father make their home in the Black Land. This strange, new country has no place in Lilith’s heart until a beloved high priestess introduces Lilith to her life purpose—to be a Timekeeper and keep time safe.

Summoned through the seventh arch of Atlantis by the Children of the Law of One, Lilith and her newfound friends are sent into Atlantis’s past, and given a task that will ultimately test their courage and try their faith in each other. Can the Timekeepers stop the dark magus Belial before he changes the seers’ prophecy? If they fail, then their future and the earth’s fate will be altered forever.

Excerpt

“Why are you here?” Lilith asked. “You’ve already got your life seal.”

“I have more questions for Istulo.” She continued to stare at the disk.

Lilith sighed. “My name is Lilith. What’s your name?”

Her shoulders relaxed slightly. A hint of a smile broke out on her face. Her upturned nose wiggled. “She-Aba. I was born here in the Black Land. Both my parents arrived from Atlantis fourteen years ago yesterday. My mother gave birth to me the next day.”

Lilith perked up. “That would make today your birthday!”

She-Aba beamed. “Yes. That’s why I’m here. For my birthday last year, I had my life reading done by Istulo. But recently, there’s been a hiccup in my plans. It’s like my life seal rearranged itself, and now I’m confused. I’m here for a reaffirmation.”

“What’s the problem?”

She-Aba traced her life seal with the tip of her perfectly shaped fingernail. “My lifetime occupation was supposed to be to design clothing for the people of the various positions in the court and temples.”

Lilith smirked. “That makes perfect sense.”

“I know, right? So why, all of a sudden, would my life seal change from designing clothing to something completely different?”

Lilith arched a fair brow. “How different?”

“Well, instead of clothing people in lavish robes and gowns for others to appreciate, the seal suggests that I’ll be doing the opposite by covering up and hiding the truth. I don’t understand it at all. I thought my life was all planned out for me.”

“I thought mine was too, until my country blew up and slid into the ocean,” Lilith muttered.

“Hey, look at the bright side, at least your hair isn’t red like mine.”

Lilith eyed She-Aba carefully. “What’s wrong with red hair? My uncle has red hair and it suits him fine.”

She-Aba moved in closer. “If you haven’t noticed already, there aren’t many redheads around here. The natives think red is magical, and anyone with red hair is considered a freak of nature.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Lilith said loud enough to cause an echo down the marble hallway. “Is that the reason why those artists were rude to you? Because you have red hair?”

“Red is a very powerful color,” a raspy voice said from behind both girls.

Lilith and She-Aba jumped. They slowly turned to find Istulo hovering over them.

Wearing the same white gown and orichalcum headband Lilith saw her dressed in before, Istulo nodded slightly before she said, “Red represents the essence of life—if we are drained of blood, we are drained of energy. The people of the Black Land understand this, and therefore red is reserved only for their gods and goddesses.”

Lilith giggled. “Don’t tell She-Aba that, she’ll think she’s a goddess.”

About the Author

Sharon Ledwith is the author of the middle-grade/YA time travel series, THE LAST TIMEKEEPERS, available through Musa Publishing, and is represented by Walden House (Books & Stuff) for her teen psychic series, MYSTERIOUS TALES FROM FAIRY FALLS. When not writing, researching, or revising, she enjoys reading, yoga, anything arcane, and an occasional dram of scotch. Sharon lives a serene, yet busy life in a tourist region of Ontario, Canada, with her hubby, one spoiled yellow Labrador and a moody calico cat.

Learn more about Sharon Ledwith on her WEBSITE and BLOG. Look up her AMAZON AUTHOR page for a list of current books. Stay connected on FACEBOOK, TWITTER, GOOGLE+, TUMBLR, and GOODREADS. Check out THE LAST TIMEKEEPERS TIME TRAVEL SERIES Facebook page.

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