Mail Time! (7)

So many books I think I'm going to drown in them all! I have five books lined up to read. Only three of them are new. But I will do it!!

Cryer's Cross by Lisa McMann

Summary (from the author's site): Kendall loves her life in small town Cryer’s Cross, Montana, but she also longs for something more. She knows the chances of going to school in New York are small, but she's not the type to give up easily. Even though it will mean leaving Nico, the world's sweetest boyfriend, behind.  

But when Cryer’s Cross is rocked by unspeakable tragedy, Kendall shoves her dreams aside and focuses on just one goal: help find her missing friends. Even if it means spending time with the one boy she shouldn't get close to... the one boy who makes her question everything she feels for Nico.  

Determined to help and to stay true to the boy she's always loved, Kendall keeps up the search--and stumbles upon some frightening local history. She knows she can't stop digging, but Kendall is about to find out just how far the townspeople will go to keep their secrets buried....

I am Number Four by Pittacus Lore

Summary (from HarperCollins' site): Nine of us came here. We look like you. We talk like you. We live among you. But we are not you. We can do things you dream of doing. We have powers you dream of having. We are stronger and faster than anything you have ever seen. We are the superheroes you worship in movies and comic books—but we are real.


Our plan was to grow, and train, and become strong, and become one, and fight them. But they found us and started hunting us first. Now all of us are running. Spending our lives in shadows, in places where no one would look, blending in. we have lived among you without you knowing.

But they know.

They caught Number One in Malaysia.

Number Two in England.


And Number Three in Kenya.


They killed them all.

I am Number Four.

I am next.


The Ghost and the Goth by Stacy Kade

Summary (from the author's site): Alona Dare–Senior in high school, co-captain of the cheerleading squad, Homecoming Queen three years in a row, voted most likely to marry a movie star…and newly dead.


I’m the girl you hated in high school. Is it my fault I was born with it all-good looks, silky blond hair, a hot bod, and a keen sense of what everyone else should not be wearing? But my life isn’t perfect, especially since I died. Run over by a bus of band geeks—is there anything more humiliating? As it turns out, yes—watching your boyfriend and friends move on with life, only days after your funeral. And you wouldn’t believe what they’re saying about me now that they think I can’t hear them. To top it off, I’m starting to disappear, flickering in and out of existence. I don’t know where I go when I’m gone, but it’s not good. Where is that freaking white light already?

Will Killian–Senior in high school, outcast, dubbed “Will Kill” by the popular crowd for the unearthly aura around him, voted most likely to rob a bank…and a ghost-talker.

I can see, hear, and touch the dead. Unfortunately, they can also see, hear and touch me. Yeah, because surviving high school isn’t hard enough already. I’ve done my best to hide my “gift.” After all, my dad, who shared my ability, killed himself because of it when I was fifteen. But lately, pretending to be normal has gotten a lot harder. A new ghost—an anonymous, seething cloud of negative energy with the capacity to throw me around—is pursuing me with a vengeance. My mom, who knows nothing about what I can do, is worrying about the increase in odd incidents, my shrink is tossing around terms like “temporary confinement for psychiatric evaluation,” and my principal, who thinks I’m a disruption and a faker, is searching for every way possible to get rid of me. How many weeks until graduation?

Laters!

In My Mailbox is a meme held by The Story Siren. 

Informal review of If I Stay by Gayle Forman

It's too late to do a formal thing, and this week I've been too lazy to do much. On that note, I probably won't be posting much, if anything, this coming week. Gunna buckle down and do homework.

But on to the awesomeness that is If I Stay. *SPOILER ALERT**

All I can say is that I love it. It made me cry! And the love story between Mia and Adam...

I don't think I can even really bring up words to describe how much I loved this book. I tried to finish reading it in one night, but I started reading later and ended up forcing myself to go to bed at 4 am cause I had to get up this morning. But I finished it in two nights. I can't wait for the second one! I am so glad I picked this book up.

It reminded me a lot of The Lovely Bones, just better. Don't get me wrong, The Lovely Bones was a good book (even though I found it a little hard to get through at some points).

I did learn something though: Yo-Yo Ma is a classical musician. I always thought he was some 80's rapper >.> Well, you learn something new every day!

Now, I wait impatiently for my copy of Where She Went.

PS, I HATE when they kill kids in stories and movies.

Mr. Roboto

I love Styx <3

So, today's prompt was Take a Deep Breath. I had a hard time coming up with who I wanted to write about. I started, wrote a line, then scratched it out. Sat and stared. Wrote another line. Scratched it out. Sat and stared. But, third time's the charm and I got a short blurb out in like, three minutes, give or take.

Michael leaned over Zachary, his hands pressed against the other man’s chest. Blood was seeping through his fingers and something like fear was etched on his normally unemotional face. 

“Just take a deep breath, Zachary.” 

“It… hurts…” Zack managed to whine, his face pale and sweaty. 

“I know it does,” he said, his voice tender for once. “We’re going to get you out of here.” He shifted his hands so that only one was pressed over the bullet hole. With his now free hand, he pulled his phone from his coat pocket. 

“I don’t think now’s the time for work, Doveman,” Zack muttered, eyes barely open. 

“I’m calling my father.” 

“Custard man’s going to come?” 

Michael nodded as he put the phone to his ear. “Custard man will come.”

 I think if I'd had the full time, it would be a little better, but I got the main point across. I wanted to mention the blood getting on his coat and phone and Mikey not caring about it, but I always wanted the last few lines in there as well. I also wanted to add a little more in the last bit about Zack trying to lighten the mood, but again, the time limit.

It's all right, though.

The prompts for this week are:

• solitude
• pilfer
• vagrant
• arousal
• resilience
• land

Combining those with the Chrysalis Experiment's prompt (Do you know how many times God has wanted to destroy the world? I think we read the same newspaper.) is going to be quite the feat. Wonder what I'm going to do...

Laters!

Mail Time! (6)

Two books this week from the library! I'm going to end up drowning in books here soon :P

A Kiss in Time by Alex Flinn

Summary: (from the author's site, colors left in original fashion from the site): Talia fell under a spell…
Jack broke the curse.

I was told to beware the accursed spindle, but it was so enchanting, so hypnotic. . . .I was looking for a little adventure the day I ditched my tour group. But finding a comatose town, with a hot-looking chick asleep in it, was so not what I had in mind.I awakened in the same place but in another time—to a stranger’s soft kiss.I couldn’t help kissing her. Sometimes you just have to kiss someone. I didn’t know this would happen.Now I am in dire trouble because my father, the king, says I have brought ruin upon our country. I have no choice but to run away with this commoner!Now I’m stuck with a bratty princess and a trunk full of her jewels. . . . The good news: My parents will freak!

Think you have dating issues? Try locking lips with a snoozing stunner who turns out to be 316 years old. Can a kiss transcend all—even time?

Beautiful Darkness by Kami Garcia and Margaret Stohl

Summary (from the author's site): Ethan Wate used to think of Gatlin, the small Southern town he had always called home, as a place where nothing ever changed. Then he met mysterious newcomer Lena Duchannes, who revealed a secret world that had been hidden in plain sight all along. A Gatlin that harbored ancient secrets beneath its moss-covered oaks and cracked sidewalks. A Gatlin where a curse has marked Lena’s family of powerful supernaturals for generations. A Gatlin where impossible, magical, life-altering events happen.

Sometimes life-ending.

Together they can face anything Gatlin throws at them, but after suffering a tragic loss, Lena starts to pull away, keeping secrets that test their relationship. And now that Ethan’s eyes have been opened to the darker side of Gatlin, there’s no going back. Haunted by strange visions only he can see, Ethan is pulled deeper into his town’s tangled history and finds himself caught up in the dangerous network of underground passageways endlessly crisscrossing the South, where nothing is as it seems.

Laters!

In My Mailbox is a meme held by The Story Siren.

Week 11 Prompt

I got the next installment in the Bert Chronicles done! This is more an introduction to the different characters, so sorry if it's a tad bit boring.

The prompt was: If I keep your secret, what's in it for me?

As per usual, I am totally cool with being up for consideration for the weekly picks by the leaders.

Without further ado...

Bert had expected the need of a taxi once the plane landed. He had even prepared himself to tell the driver that he was going to Hell, because he wasn’t sure of the address of the resort. Stupidly, he hadn’t even thought to ask for it. 

He was still practicing how he was going to say his new catch phrase to the taxi driver in his head as he exited the plane, his carryon bag over his shoulder. He started looking around for signs to take him to baggage claim as soon as he stepped out of the terminal. He headed down, grabbed his suitcases and started for the doors, almost walking past a statuesque limo driver. 

He stopped two steps away then backed up and stared at the sign he was holding. The man didn’t move, though Bert couldn’t see his eyes behind those dark shades so he could have been sizing him up. 

“I’m Bert Sommer,” he said, motioning to his name on the sign. When the guy didn’t move at first, he wondered if this was some kind of practical joke, an actual statue with his name on it. Bert jumped and yelped when he actually did move. “Oh god.” He dropped one suitcase and put the hand to his chest. “Don’t do that!” 

The driver wasn’t even fazed. “Right this way, sir.” He grabbed the downed suitcase then headed out of the airport. Parked on the curb was a long black limo. 

“Are you allowed to park here? I thought this was passenger pick up only?” 

The driver looked at him and smirked. “I am picking up a passenger. A wad of cash never hurts, either.” He popped open the drunk and put the one suitcase in then motioned for Bert to do the same. Once the trunk was packed and Bert was snuggly placed in the back seat, the driver got in and started the limo. 

Bert sat back and looked out the window as the scenery started to move. The ride was shorter than he thought it would be, but it still would have cost him a small fortune in a taxi. “Thank god for small miracles,” he muttered to himself then stepped out as the driver opened the door for him. He forgot about everything as his jaw hit the ground. 

The resort in front of him looked more like a castle than any hotel he had ever seen. 

“Make you feel like royalty, doesn’t it?” a woman whispered over his shoulder, causing him to jump. 

The woman giggled. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I take it you’re one of the other chosen few who get to wine and dine here for the next few weeks, right? So am I! You and I, we’re the first two here. I’m Sister Loquacious, er, Mary. Sorry, that’s what everyone back home calls me because all I do is blather on about whatever the hell it is that we happen to be talking about. You’ve read Good Omens, haven’t you?” 

Bert opened his mouth, but before he could get anything out, Mary was chatting on again. 

“Look at me; I am so rude asking you questions before even knowing your name. What’s your name?” She smiled sweetly at him, head cocked slightly to the side. 

Bert waited to see if she was going to start talking again, but when she didn’t, he took the chance to talk. “I’m Bert Sommer,” he said as he held his hand out to her to shake. “I actually have not read Good Omens, but I’ve heard it’s pretty good.” 

That must have been the wrong thing to say as it launched her into another tirade of words. “Oh, it is a great book, you really should read it. Actually, I have a copy right here in my purse” -she began digging around in the large, red, leather purse hanging at her side- “that you can borrow while we’re here. Now where did I put that thing? Oh! Here it is!” She pulled out a white paperback book about two inches thick. “Don’t worry about the length, it’s a quick read and I am sure that you will love it!” She held it out to Bert, a large grin on her lips. 

He took the book. “Thanks…” he said, unzipping his carryon. He inwardly sighed in relief as another limo pulled up where his had been. 

“Oh look! The next lucky person is here! I wonder who it is. These windows and so damn tinted, it could be someone famous in there! Though do you really think the guy that owns this place would really be able to get a famous person to come here? And if he did, why would he choose us random Joes to…” 

Bert decided it was time to tune the woman out. She looked like a nice lady, if she ever shut up. She looked to be maybe in her early thirties with dark brown hair and a little on the plump side. And a teacherly type. He felt bad for her students if she really was a teacher. 

The driver of this limo opened the back door then went for the trunk. Bert found himself holding his breath as he waited for the next person to step out. Hopefully this person wasn’t as talkative as Miss Mary over here. He didn’t care if it was the worlds ugliest nerd who enjoyed playing Dungeons and Dragons in his mom’s basement as long as he didn’t talk as much. 

Well, ugly nerd isn’t what stepped out of the limo’s depths. What he actually saw was a very good looking black guy. He was tall, towering over Bert’s ideal model height of 5’10”, and twice as thick as Bert, though the guy probably had less than ten percent body fat. Bert felt weak in the knees as he watched the man’s broad chest rise and fall steadily like the ocean’s tide. Was that even a correct thing to compare this to? Oh whatever! Bert was surprised he could even think to compare him to anything but delicious! 

Bert was torn back into reality by Mary’s voice, introducing herself to the newcomer. “Hello! I’m Mary and this is Bert! We’re the first two here--” 

“I can see that,” the man’s deep voice interrupted the chatterbox. She pouted, looking affronted by his interruption. “My name’s John Wrigley.” 

Bert shifted his weight to keep from hitting the ground. This guy was quite possibly better looking than he was. Did it bother Bert though? Not one bit. This gave him the excuse to drool over someone other than himself. He shook his head to bring himself back to the present. It was oddly silent. Mary had her back turned towards them and Mr. Dark Chocolate was looking around. Bert took the chance to check out his ass. 

“If I keep your secret, what’s in it for me?” another woman whispered over his shoulder, but this one wasn’t Mary. This girl sounded younger and wasn’t talking about this place making them feel like royalty. In fact, this question made his heart thud away in his chest as he tried to keep a calm look on his face. 

“What’re you talking about?” He sounded like he was being strangled. 

The girl laughed loudly. “You so have a crush on John.”  She had obviously already gone through the introductions with the others.

Bert felt a rush as he sighed in relief. She knew nothing about the agents on the plane and there was no giant target on his back. “I do not,” he fell easily into the banter. 

The girl walked around him and smirked. She was younger than he was, and he was only twenty-two. This girl couldn’t be more than her late teens with hair blonder than his was. “You do, too. I know these things. I write the romance advice column for my school magazine.” 

He raised an eyebrow. 

“College magazine. I write under the name ‘Dr. Lovejoy’ and my column is called ‘The Oracle’.” She grinned proudly. 

Bert chuckled. “That’s brilliant. I love word play.” 

She nodded. “So do I, that’s why I did it. I’ve taken a year off of college to ‘find myself’ but I still do my column.” Well that explained why she was here and not in school. 

“So, Dr. Lovejoy, what’s your real name?” 

“Why? Are you going to stalk me?” she asked with a slit-eyed glare, her lips pulled into a smirk. 

“Oh of course I am. I want to know everything about you!” Bert said as creepily as he could then laughed. He was glad to have someone here that he wouldn’t look like a total fool in front of or who would talk his ear off. 

“I’m Shelly Waters. And you are?” She playfully sized him up. 

“Bert Sommer.” 

“Pleasure, Bert Sommer.” She looked like she was about to say more, but the last limo pulled up and she changed the topic. “I wonder what kind of person this one is?” 

“Maybe it’s a creepy nerd. I think Mary wants someone famous, though.” He nodded, eyes on the vehicle. 

“Maybe it’ll be some bisexual dude and we can have a threesome,” Shelly smirked. 

Bert turned his head towards her, eyes wide. “You little pervert!” 

Shelly grinned at him. “As if you wouldn’t entertain the idea.” 

He laughed. “I think we’re going to be all right.” 

It wasn’t a guy that stepped out, but another female, hair colored like the sunset. “Ugh, let me guess, this is going to be some kind of Willy Wonka fest, isn’t it? I was hoping more for The Haunting where the creepy housekeeper taking us to out rooms.” She crossed her arms over her chest, which was bulging from the corset she wore. Bert had to admit that she was beautifully dressed, even if she had the personality of a bee. “So where is this Vincent guy to divvy us up into our separate rooms?” 

Bert shrugged. “No clue. We’ve all been standing out here for at least half an hour.” 

The woman rolled her eyes. “Great.” She walked over to Bert and put a hand on his shoulder, using the other to remove one of her shoes. “Name’s Venus Raven. I’m a fortune teller. Any of you lovely people want to know how you’re going to die here?” She grinned deviously and started on her other show, still holding onto Bert for support. 

“Uhh…” Bert stammered, pleasantly creeped out. “No thanks.” 

“I’ll pass,” Mary said. Bert had the feeling she was still upset about John interrupting her. 

“Maybe later,” Shelly said then pointed at the front doors that were opening. They all turned to the opening doors, John rejoining the group. 

A man in a suit looking a lot like Alfred from the old Batman cartoons, snuffed nose in the air and everything, walked out and stopped at the top of the stairs. “I regret to inform you that Master Rice will not be able to attend to you tonight but will be here tomorrow morning at breakfast. Breakfast is served from eight to ten every morning, lunch begins at noon and runs until three, then dinner is out at six. There is a list of rules and hours in each of your rooms. We are all here to serve you. Master Rice would like you all at breakfast tomorrow morning at nine.” He cleared his throat. “Welcome to the Paradise Resort and Spa. We will now lead you to your rooms.” He turned and walked back in, five more butlers coming out and down the front steps. Each one grabbed a different person's suitcases and led each one off. 

Bert sent a look to Shelly, who mouthed ‘Find me’ back at him. He nodded then followed after his butler.

Woo! So what do you guys think? I rather like the collection of people. Yes, I know quite a few of them have four letter names but I kinda like those short names. Oh well.

The writers group words used in this story are: statuesque, brilliant, divvy, tide, oracle, loquacious, sunset.

Laters!

Friday's Five...

...things I like to drink while writing


All because I'm enjoying a nice cup of hot cocoa right now. Yum...

1. Tea. And best make it a LARGE cup of tea. I prefer Earl Grey but a nice cup of Green or Lipton or some other kind of herbal. Just so long as I have sugar and the tea itself taste yummy.

2. Hot cocoa. Because where I typically write gets cold. And hot cocoa with Bailey's Irish Creme is AWESOME!

3. Starbucks. Typically it's a cold drink (White Chocolate Mocha frap, yum) because I prefer the cold drinks from Starbucks.

4. Screwdrivers. Because, come on, it's a fun drink. Just as long as there isn't too much vodka in the OJ and you end up getting super drunk.

5. Air. I've run out of things I like to drink while writing, haha.

Yes, there are two things on this list that are alcoholic. Or rather, one and a half. I don't always have Bailey's in my cocoa. But can you really blame me? It's the writer's disease: alcoholism. :P

Anyhows, that's my list! What do you guys like to drink when you're writing, if anything?

Laters!

Write On, Dude!

Today's topic is writing schedules.


I've read in different places before that if you want to really be a professional writer, then you should sit down for an alloted time(such as two hours) and write. It doesn't matter if you just sit there and stare at the blank document, roll around on the ground, stare out the window, twitch uncontrollably in your chair, but you cannot do anything other than writing. No internet, no TV, no blogging, no reading, nothing else fun. You must make that time, every day, to be your writing time.

I never did this before (save for NaNo). I always just kind of... wrote. It didn't matter when and it usually wasn't every day. And I was usually distracted by the TV and the internet and books, etc. So I have decided to start a writing regime.

Every week, from Monday to Friday (except Tuesday because of writing group) I go to the library for a few hours and just write. I've only started this week and, admittedly, have only gone one day so far. I had things to do today that kept me from going. But anyways. I'm actually finding this helpful. On Monday, in an hour, I wrote 1,000 words. Then I got tired of sitting around (because I had already been at the library for two hours writing blog posts and just roaming the net) and left. But it felt awesome! I was rather proud of myself. So I will continue to this and maybe I'll actually get some writing on a new story done soon.

So, what do you guys think? Do you have a writing schedule you stick to? If you do, how does it work for you? And if not, how do you get your writing done?


Laters!

PS, Sorry this was posted late!

When it Comes

Today's five minute prompt was An Old Man. I had fun with this one. For those of you that don't know. Jared is from the story in this post.

Jared parked his car and got out. He was standing in front of what looked like a junk pile. He pulled the paper out of his pocket to make sure he was at the right place. 

Yup, it was. 

“Looks more like a place American Pickers would like.” He muttered to himself. He wandered if there actually were any antiques in this place. “Who am I to judge?” he asked and stuck closely to the path amongst the junk. 

The door was already open when he got there with an old man standing there like an old, faded painting. 

“Are you the antiques guy?” he called, though Jared was only a few feet away. 

“I am.” He stepped forward, hand out to shake. 

“You look like you should still be in diapers! How are you going to know what my stuff’s worth?” 

Jared dropped his hand and frowned. He should he used to this by now, but diapers? Really? 

“Sir, you can rest assured I know what I’m doing.” 

“Eh? Speak up!” The old man cupped a hand around his ear. 

Jared had a brief flash to the ear horn he had just sold last week.

“I said you can rest assured—” 

“I can wrestle soup?” 

Jared blinked, trying not to laugh. “No, rest assured--” 

“Wrinkled suits? I don’t have any of those.” 

“No!” he said louder. “Rest. Assured!”

Hehe. The old guy was fun! Jared is 28 and own an antiques store/appraises antiques. He can travel for this job and that's what he's doing here. For those of you who don't know what American Pickers is, it's a TV show I do believe History Channel about these guys who go to people's houses and go through their junk and find what's worth money and buy it from them to turn around and sell it for more money. All the episodes I've peeked in on, the houses were like stuffed with stuff.

The words for this week are:

• statuesque
• brilliant
• divvy
• tide
• oracle
• loquacious
• sunset

Yeah, we got quite a few words this week, but that's fine! I will be combining these words with the story for The Chrysalis Experiment, which is "If I keep your secret, what's in it for me?" This prompt works so well for my story about Bert!

BTW, my writers group quite enjoyed my story about Bert. Yey!

Laters!

Teaser Tuesday! (5)

Grab your current read

Open to a random page

Share two (2) “teaser” sentences from somewhere on that page

BE CAREFUL NOT TO INCLUDE SPOILERS! (make sure that what you share doesn’t give too much away! You don’t want to ruin the book for others!)

Share the title & author, too, so that other TT participants can add the book to their TBR Lists if they like your teasers

"'And so, for six months of the year, one court- the court that opposed the resurrection of the dead- governed the realm and its inhabitants and led them in order, peace, and goodwill. The fey people named then the Seelie Court, for under their rule the earth was as fruitful and productive as it is today."

13 Treasures by Michelle Harrison
page 236

This is a meme hosted by Should Be Reading

REVIEW: The Demon Trapper's Daughter by Jana Oliver

Title: The Demon Trapper's Daughter
Author: Jana Oliver

Summary (from author's site): It’s the year 2018, and with human society seriously disrupted by the economic upheavals of the previous decade, Lucifer has increased the number of demons in all major cities. Atlanta is no exception. Fortunately, humans are protected by Demon Trappers, who work to keep homes and streets safe from the things that go bump in the night. Seventeen-year-old Riley, only daughter of legendary Demon Trapper Paul Blackthorne, has always dreamed of following in her father’s footsteps. When she’s not keeping up with her homework or trying to manage her growing attraction to fellow Trapper apprentice, Simon, Riley’s out saving citizens from Grade One Hellspawn. Business as usual, really, for a demon-trapping teen. When a Grade Five Geo-Fiend crashes Riley’s routine assignment at a library, jeopardizing her life and her chosen livelihood, she realizes that she’s caught in the middle of a battle between Heaven and Hell. 


Review: I think I'll start off by saying that I want the second book to be out now so I can pick it up and read it. I love how the author intertwines the characters thinking along with the narration, making it flow very smoothly.  Parts of the book seemed a little draggy, but over all it was very good and very compelling. I definitely recommend reading this one! 


On a kind of side note, I don't like Simon. I prefer Beck. Stupid Simon.


Rating:

REVIEW: Cloaked by Alex Flinn

Title: Cloaked
Author: Alex Flinn

Summary (from author's site): I’m not your average hero. I actually wasn’t your average anything. Just a poor guy working an after-school job at a South Beach shoe repair shop to help his mom make ends meet. But a little magic changed it all.

It all started with the curse. And the frognapping. And one hot-looking princess, who asked me to lead a rescue mission.

There wasn’t a fairy godmother or any of that. And even though I fell in love along the way, what happened to me is unlike any fairy tale I’ve ever heard. Before I knew it, I was spying with a flock of enchanted swans, talking (yes, talking!) to a fox named Todd, and nearly trampled by giants in the Everglades. 

Don’t believe me? I didn’t believe it either. But you’ll see. Because I 

knew it all was true, the  second I got CLOAKED.

Review: This book was all right. I felt shew over went on all of the fairy tales used at one time. I also felt a little jilted as the bad guy seemed to keep getting forgotten. Maybe I just read it too close to Beastly, but this book just didn't wow me the way the other one did.

Rating:

Mail Time! (5)

I only got one book this week, but that's ok!
If I Stay by Gayle Forman
Summary: (from the author's site): On a day that started like any other…

Mia had everything: a loving family, a gorgeous, adoring boyfriend, and a bright future full of music and full of choices. Then, in an instant, almost all of that is taken from her. Caught between life and death, between a happy past and an unknowable future, Mia spends one critical day contemplating the one decision she has left—the most important decision she’ll ever make.

Simultaneously tragic and hopeful, this is a romantic, riveting and ultimately uplifting story about memory, music, living, dying, loving.

In My Mailbox is a meme held by The Story Siren.

Friday's Five...

...songs that have made it onto my story Soundtracks

1. Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys Yes, a whole CD. A story I'm working on was born of listening to the CD, so there it is, on my playlist for it.

2. Hurricane by 30 Seconds to Mars From a post-apocalyptic story idea I had once. It's actually the only song on the playlist right now.

3. Most of the songs from The Greatest Show Unearthed by Creature Feature I have a character in this story (the one I was going to write about last NaNo and wasn't able to) who is based off of these songs.

4. Love songs Cause I'm a romance writer, and what kind of romance playlist would it be without love songs?

5. Other songs that fit the story Why yes, I have run out of ideas/gotten lazy. I think this is self explanatory :P

In other news... Keep Japan in your thoughts, I'm sure everyone has heard about the earthquakes and tsunamis that hit them last night. One of my old friends lives there and I have yet to hear from her as to if she's ok and another friend of mine has a sister who's living there. Please keep them in your thoughts.

Also, theres a contest to with signed copies of the 5 Breathless books. Click the picture to find out how to win them!

That is all :D

Laters!

Week 10 Prompt

Woot! I'm done with the week 10 prompt for The Chrysalis Experiment! The prompt is: Stop reading these words before it's too late.

Side note: I am totally cool with being up for consideration for the weekly pick thingy :)

Bert frowned as he dragged the rake back, pulling leaves with it. Why was he left to rake his backyard when he paid some gardener to come in once a week and take care of this stuff? He shouldn’t be here getting dirty, he should be out somewhere, even if that somewhere was hanging out at work on his day off. He could be demonstrating to his bosses that he loved his job and that it would hurt them to get rid of him. He knew that all across America, Abercrombie and Fitch was getting rid of their male models, the ones that stood in the door ways with no shirts, pants down so far it was almost lewd. But he looked hot and he liked his job. He was a model but he could actually spend his days seeing the people who drooled over him. Sure, he wasn’t in to the chicks that stopped walking past the store front just to drool at his chiseled abs, his delicious hip lines… If Bert kept along this line of thought, he would start drooling. He was hot even to himself. 

He grumbled as he pulled another rakeful of leaves into the pile he was making. He paused for a moment to stare at the small pile. What was he going to do with these leaves when he was done? Was he expected to shove them into a trash bag and haul them somewhere? If so, then where? And did he want to ruin his dish gloves just to get rid of some leaves. 

“Stupid gardener getting sick.” He kicked the pile, sending leaves flying. “I shouldn’t have to do this!” He threw the rake to the ground and stamped into the house. 

Once he closed the door, he let out a long sigh and ran a dusty hand through his hair. He needed a shower. He needed a new gardener, one who had a back up for when he was sick. 

“Shower,” he told himself. “Then you’ll feel better.” 

He carried himself upstairs, started the water, and got in. The hot water running over his tense muscles did what it always did: it relaxed him and washed his worries away. The shower had always been the place he ran to when things got too much to handle. The first time he had a crush on a guy, the time his dad came home drunk and broke every coffee cup in the house, the first time he hooked up with a guy… well, that was a completely different story that just gave a completely new meaning to his shower. 

He turned the water off and got out, setting his mind to other trains of thought. Like checking his email. He dried off then grabbed a pair of sweats from one of his drawers and pulled them on. He padded down the stairs to the desk top set up in his study. He wiggled the mouse and got on the internet. 

“Viagra… porn… how to grow your dick in three days… porn…. Why would I want to look at girls getting it on? Yuck!” He checked off each offending email and deleted them. “Forward… forward… forward… Does no one love me?” He was about to exit out of his email when a new email popped up. He didn’t know who the sender was, but the subject caught his interest. “‘The Game has begun’…” 

Click. 

“‘Dear Bert Sommer, 

‘Before I get any further into this email, I would like to tell you to stop reading these words before it’s too late. What follows will change your life; but will it be for the better, or for the worst? I guess it all depends on how you take it.’ 

“Oooo, intriguing… 

‘My name is Vincent P. Rice. I have chosen five people, you included, to come to my new resort opening in Hell, Michigan. It’s a small community, but I hope to bring in more tourists by opening this resort. Before I open, though, I would like to bring in a few specially chosen people to try out the facilities and give me a report on both them and my staff. 

‘I have attached photos of my resort. I hope this titillates your fancy. 

‘If you are interested, please respond and your fully paid tickets will be mailed to you. 

‘I hope to hear from you, Bert. 

‘Sincerely Yours, 

‘Vincent P. Rice’” 

Bert sat back in his chair and stared at the screen. He did have a vacation coming up, and he did need some time away. “It could be a scam, though,” he told himself, arms crossed over his bare chest. “But then, he could be real. This guy could have seen me at the store and asked the boss who I was. It’s not hard to get my information, I’m sure.” 

He leaned forward and clicked on the first picture. “Oh, nice.” He grinned softly and clicked through the other pictures. They all showed plush rooms, a gym, a pool, a nice lobby, a small restaurant, a spa. 

“This would be like heaven,” he swooned. 

He pressed reply and sent a note along saying that he was interested. What was life if he didn’t take some risks? It was just boring. 

The next day his tickets came in the mail and a week later he was climbing onto an airplane, his seat in first class, center row between two other plush chairs. “I don’t think I’ve ever flown first class before,” he told the stewardess, who smiled at him. 

“I’ll make sure you have a very good time then, sir.” 

Bert blinked and watched her walk away. Was she hitting on him? She would be greatly disappointed if she wanted to join the mile high club with him. 

He shrugged it off and settled back in his seat, closing his eyes. In only a few hours, he was going to be at a plush hotel taking advantage of the spa. Or he could be dead, but he didn’t let that kind of thought sneak in. Instead, he wondered if the two seats on either side of him were going to be filled with hot guys. 

The plane was moving before he felt the air of people sitting in the chairs next to him. And they sat down at the exact same time. He blinked his eyes open then yelped at the sight of two buff men in suits with dark sunglasses covering their eyes. He could see the spiral wire coming from behind their ear where the ear phone sent messages to them. He sat up and looked around. The first class cabin was empty. He swallowed hard and pressed the button for the stewardess, but no one came. 

“Bert Sommer?” one man said in a deep voice, pulling him back into the plush chair. 

“I didn’t do anything!” he cried, trying to calm himself. If he didn’t, he was going to end up hyperventilating. “Please! I’m just going to a resort! For a vacation! I’m not doing anything wrong!” He began to cry. 

The two men in suits exchanged looks then both looked at Bert. The second guy put a hand gently on Bert’s arm. “Sir, please stop crying. You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

Bert looked up at the man, sniffling. “R-really? Then why are you h-here?” 

“We need your help to catch a one ‘Vincent P. Rice’,” the first guy said. 

Bert turned and looked at him. “That’s the guy who owns the resort I’m going to.” 

The suited men nodded. 

“Who are you guys?” 

“I’m Agent Riley,” the second guy introduced himself. “And this is Agent White.” 

“Are you guys with the FBI?” Bert asked as he wiped his tears away, finding himself a little calmer now. At least calm enough to not be bawling. 

“CIA, actually,” Riley said with a nod. 

“CIA. This must be big then. What do you need me for?” 

“We need you to find out what his plans are. He’s been up to some questionable activity later and we believe that this ‘resort’ is a cover up for something bigger, but we don’t know what.” 

Bert sniffled. “So this is like… an espionage mission?” 

“Yes,” White said. “You are going to be our spy. No one will suspect the gay model of being a spy.” 

Bert frowned. “What does being gay have anything to do with this?” He was offended. 

“White, I told you not to bring that into this.” 

“I didn’t think it was such a big deal.” 

“How would you feel if I said that no one would suspect you of ever working out because you’re a straight guy?” Bert interjected. 

White frowned. “Jeez, sorry. I was just saying… Touchy much?” 

“Back to the real subject at hand,” Riley said, taking over the situation before it got any more out of hand. “We need you to find out his plan so we can stop whatever he’s doing. He’s been encumbering us for at least a year now and this is the first chance we’ve had to actually do anything.” 

Bert nodded slowly, letting it roll over in his mind. “All right. I’ll do it.” 

The agents grinned. 

“But how do I do it?” 

“Enjoy yourself. Just be your flamboyant, happy, lovely self. Do what you’re supposed to do, but when you’ve got the chance, find his office, sneak into it, and find any papers you can. Try to get information out of the staff without being obvious. We’ve seen you work; you have a very inviting personality. You can get anything out of anyone.” Riley nodded looking at the model. “Easy enough, right?” 

Bert nodded slowly. “Sounds like it. But anything that sounds easy, isn’t. Can I have a clue as to what I’m looking for?” 

“Anything that could be pertinent. Anything that looks suspicious. Anything that’s obviously out place.” White shrugged. “We’ll leave it up to your discretion as to what you collect.” 

Both agents stood. 

“Enjoy your flight and your vacation, Mr. Sommer,” Riley said, then nodded. 

Bert watched as they left the first class cabin. It suddenly felt very alone. 

“You called for me?” the stewardess asked, leaning over the chair Riley had just been sitting in. “What can I get you?” 

“Um… can I have a couple cans of tomato juice? No cup, just the cans. And a pillow and blanket, please.” 

The stewardess nodded. “Of course. I’ll be right back.” 

Bert leaned back in the chair as she left. The email had been right; this was going to change his life. Maybe he should have stopped reading when he was warned. 

Too late now. All he could do was sit back, relax, and enjoy the trip.

So... the whole plot is going to end up coming in parts. When I came up with the idea for it, I didn't think it would be all that long. If I were doing this story just for the Chrysalis Experiment, then I would have just made it longer, but since I'm using this for my writers group as well, I can't have it be that long. Hopefully that's ok with the TCE >.>;; Here are the prompts from writers group: rake, demonstrate, flamboyant, espionage, titillate, encumber.

Anyhow, stay tuned for the next exciting challenge in this saga! (Everyone else is allowed to butcher saga, so I will to :()

Laters!

Write On, Dude!

'Write On, Dude!' is my new thing on Wednesdays. I will be discussing things related to writing in general, or just my writing. I'll probably have the same topic on Wednesday as I do for my Friday's Five.

Now, without further ado...

Today's topic is... Soundtracks


I like making sound tracks for my books. I'll even make soundtracks for character pairings. Most of my playlists are for the stories I'm writing; though I do have a playlist for Carrighan and Demetrios which is at this time, 55 songs like and always growing. It's mostly love songs, but that's fine with me! What kind of romance writer would I be if I didn't like love songs? I think that would be oddly ironic.

I love going to a writer's website and finding that they have a playlist for their book(s). I do prefer it, though, when they have a music player on their site with the songs they chose rather than just having the songs listed there in a list. I don't like having to look up all the songs on youtube, and I usually don't. I make a face of sadness then go away from the site.

I'm going to post up a playlist I created for one of the stories I was trying to work on and still may one day, once I get everything really together for it and sit  my butt down to write.

It's called They Called it Paradise. I'd explain what it's about, but I don't want to give anything away or drive myself away from it any more than I have already.

Eesh, that was harder then it should have been 0.0 Pretend the Nightwish song (this first one on there) has to voice.

Anyhows, that's my playlist for that story. I like it. I need to write this story. But there you go.

What's y'alls opinions on soundtracks for books/characters? Do you make then for your stories? What kinds of songs do you put on them?

Laters!

New Directions

Yey for writers group!

This week, the prompt was 'Devastated' and I went a rather depressing route. Yes, I killed a character. Or rather, I wrote out part of his death scene. At this point, Mikey is 29 and Zack is 27.

Zachary stared down at the unmoving body of his lover who lay in his arms. “Mikey?” He shook him. “Mikey?! MIkey, don’t play around!” He continued to shake the body, but the only reaction he got was Michael’s head lulling to the side. 

Zack could still clearly hear the last words mumbled from Mikey’s lips and the sound of his last breath that would haunt the hitman for the rest of his life. 

“Zachary, you moron…” the words whispered in his mind. Over the years those words had become Michael’s way of saying’ I love you’ and the smile on his cold lips told Zachary all he needed to know. 

“I love you too, Doveman,” he whispered, tears coming to his eyes as he leaned down and kissed his forehead. He got up and dragged the body to a hiding place, somewhere Zack could come back to to get him and give him a proper burial. 

Right now, as devastated as he may be, he had to carry on and getting caught didn’t fit into that plan. He had to get back to Henry, the boy Zack had come to accept as his own son and raise him the way Mikey would have wanted. 

Well, maybe not the same way, but as close as fun loving Zack could get. 

“Rest well, Doveman, and may skateboard riding angels take you to that last hit in the sky.” He flashed the hand loose sign then sniffled as he walked away.

Yup. Poor, poor Mikey. A little info, Henry is Mikey's son from a mess up when he was 16. The boy was born in Finland and lived there with his mom until she died and some family member sent him to be with his in America. At this point, Henry has been with them for two years and calls Zack 'Daddy number 2'.

The prompts for this week are:

• rake
• demonstrate
• flamboyant
• espionage
• titillate 
• encumber

So, as of this moment I haven't heard back from the people at the Chrysalis Experiment yet, but I decided to use their week 9 prompt to go along with the words from last week from writers group. As a refresher, those words were: grim, decide, pirate, communal, and numinous. The prompt from the Chrysalis Experiment was "Why would you keep doing that? Of all the things you would stick in a bottle..." While I didn't actually have that written in this story, I did title it:

Of All The Things You Would Stick in a Bottle...

“Ahh!” Jared screamed. 

“Ahh!” The new comer screamed in reply, covering his ears. “Don’t be so loud! My head is splitting!” 

“Where the hell did you come from?” 

The new comer stared with his baby blues at Jared. “The bottle.” He brought one hand down, the blonde hair falling back over his ear, and pointed at the bottle of gin Jared was holding, top twisted back on. 

“You came out of my bottle gin?” Jared asked. He didn’t believe it. Maybe there was a hole in the ceiling of this old antiques store and this was some kind of prank. 

The new comer nodded. “Yeah. Can I have it back? It’s mine.” He slurred his words and fell forward as he tried to grab the bottle. 

Jared grabbed this obviously drunk practical joke before he could hit the ground. “I think you need to sit down.” 

“I think you need to give me back my house.” 

Jared rolled his eyes. “You don’t live in a bottle of gin.” Though he had to admit that this guy did smell like gin. 

“Yesh I do. I have for…” he stopped talking to think. “I don’t remember how long. But I once knew a guy who lived in a pirate’s eye patch. He’s at the bottom of the ocean now, though. Poor sucker.” 

“You’re drunk.” 

“Of course I am! I live in a bottle of gin! If you lived in a bottle of gin… you’d be drunk too.” He nodded. Jared helped him into a wicker seat. 

“What’s your name? Maybe the owner knows who you are.” 

“Britain.” 

“Britain?” 

Britain nodded. “Uh huh. The owner doesn’t know me though. I’m a jinn.” 

This caused Jared to startle and stare. “A jinn?” 

Britain nodded again. 

“Who lives in a bottle of gin?” 

Once more, Britain nodded. 

“A bottle of gin called Numinous?” 

Britain rolled his eyes so dramatically that his whole head rolled as well. “Yes! That’s what I said. Now give me my bottle.” He reached for it, but almost fell out of the chair as Jared pulled it back. 

“Wait. Don’t you owe me three wishes or something?” 

Britain looked up at him, his face blank. Slowly understanding came across his face. “Yes. But you should take time to decide what you want. Because… because…” He scratched his head. “Because after the third wish, you have to pay the price.” He stopped. “Shit. I wasn’t supposed to tell you that.” 

“Pay the price?” Jared raised an eyebrow. 

“Uh huh. You lose your soul, the world ends, stuff like that.” He waved a hand as if it was a comment he could easily dismiss. “The jinn take over and it becomes hell on Earth. Yada yada. Don’t they teach this stuff in school?” 

“No.” 

“Stupid… What year is it?” 

“2011.” 

“Whoa… that’s a long time…” 

Jared lowered his arms to his sides, confused by the comment. He was about to ask what he was talking about when the jinn reached out and snatched the bottle of gin from his hand. “Hey!” 

“Ha! I win.” The guy grinned and curled up around the bottle, nuzzling it like it was his pet cat or something. “Sweet, sweet elixir.” He twisted the cap off and took a long swig, half emptying the bottle. He lowered it and smiled, appeased. 

“You really drink like that? Why isn’t that bottle empty?” 

Britain held it up and suddenly the clear liquid filled the bottle again. 

Jared fell back, landing on his ass with a loud thud. 

“Is everything all right over there?” the older woman who owned the store, called. 

“Sure, sure. Just fine! I tripped, but everything’s fine!” Jared called back to her. 

“If you’re sure…” 

“I am. Don’t worry.” Jared waited a moment, then looked back at Britain. Or at least where Britain had been. All that sat there now was the bottle. Jared got up, grabbed the bottle, and shoved it in his bag. This woman wouldn’t miss it, he was pretty sure.

  

Later that day, Jared sat in his kitchen, the bottle of Numinous gin sitting on the table in front of him. His arms were crossed on the table in front of him, his chin resting on his hands. 

What happened earlier… had that actually happened? Or was he sleep deprived? He had just gotten back from a long road trip to appraise someone’s antiques. 

That was it. He had been sleep deprived and stolen this bottle of old gin. He stood up from the table, deciding that he would go back to the store the next day and apologize to the woman then pay for the alcohol. 

Feeling resolved, he turned off the kitchen light and headed up to bed, leaving the bottle on the kitchen table.   

The next morning, Jared was woken up by the alarm set for ten am. He groaned and hit the snooze button then rolled over, grabbing for the other pillow to pull against his chest. 

Pillow wasn’t what he found. 

At least it didn’t feel like his pillow. Last he checked, his pillow was filled with down feathers and wrapped in a silk pillow case. Silk, to his recollection, didn’t feel like human skin and it sure as hell didn’t have lips, a nose, and two crevasses for eyes. 

His eyes shot open and he stared at the blonde from yesterday laying next to him. The lips that were under his palm spread into a bright smile. 

Jared screamed and flew backwards in a haste to get away. “God damn it!” he yelled as he hit the floor. 

“I don’t think God cares enough to damn me,” Britain said and leaned over the edge of the bed. “Are you OK?” 

Jared scowled. “Get out of my bed.” 

Britain frowned, looking like a kicked puppy. “But…” 

“Now!” 

Britain’s head vanished from the edge of the bed. Jared sighed and ran a hand through his hair, aggravated. Something had told him not to go to that store, the clouds looking grim and forbearing as he drove there. But did he listen to his gut? Nope. Now he was paying the price, waking up to another man in his bed. Though he had to admit he was a good looking man with a thin form, shaggy blonde hair and the prettiest baby blue eyes Jared had ever seen. Jared’s black hair and sapphire blue eyes seems to be a complete contrast. 

He shook his head. He was not thinking these kinds of thoughts about a… a thing that lived in a… No, there was no way this guy actually lived in a gin bottle. Though he had seen the bottle magically refill itself, and he had heard tales from other antiquers, superstitious antiquers, that there were old items connected to spirits. 

Was this man a spirit then? Someone who had died at the communal drinking hole and attached himself to a bottle of gin? And he only thought that he was a jinn? 

“Britain?” he asked hesitantly. 

There was no answer. 

Jared got up and walked around to the other side of the bed. There he was, blonde hair and all, curled up on the floor. Britain looked up at him, then quickly away, still looking like that kicked puppy. 

“I’m out of your bed,” Britain said dejectedly. 

“I see that.” Jared nodded. 

“I should go.” He started to fade. 

“No, wait!” 

Britain reformed and stared up at the man. “What?” 

“Prove it.” 

Britain blinked. “Prove what?” 

“Prove that you’re… you’re a jinn and not some ghost attached to that bottle you’re holding.” 

Britain sat up, his face going from hurt to a bright grin. “I can do that. I am very good at doing that.” He jumped to his feet and clapped his hands together. “What do you want?” 

“What do I… You mean I have to use one of my wishes in order for you to prove that you’re a jinn?” 

Britain nodded. “Uh huh.” 

“But… Oh fine.” Jared brought a hand up and rubbed his chin. “Hmm… I want…”  

“‘I wish’,” Britain corrected. 

“I wish…” What did he want to wish for? He hadn’t really sat down and thought about it before. If he could have any three things in the world, what would they be? Or rather, any two things. If he made the third wish, the world would end, or something like that. He’d want it to be something small so it didn’t just look like a coincidence, but it had to be big enough so he didn’t waste it. 

“Hey… hey… I’ll give you a free wish,” Britain said with a nod. “Because you opened my bottle after over a thousand years.” 

“You’ve been drunk for over a thousand years?” 

Britain nodded. 

“All right… Well, then I wish for the car of my dreams to be parked in my drive way.” 

Britain stared at him. 

“What?” Oh god, this was some prank TV show, wasn’t it? 

“You have to be more specific.” 

“More specific?” 

Britain nodded. “Otherwise the car that would pop up in your driveway either wouldn’t work, or was recently reported stolen and the cops would be on their way here to arrest you for stealing it.” 

“But I didn’t steal it.” 

“That doesn’t matter. Wish master rules.” 

Jared frowned. This was harder than it sounded. “All right… I wish the car of my dreams was in the drive way, fully operational, with a full tank of gas, not stolen, with the pink slip in the glove box, in my name. That solid enough?” 

Britain scratched his head. “You could always add in that you don’t want a dead body in the trunk, no blood splattered on the seats, no bomb under the hood.” 

“Jesus! Could all that really happen?” 

Britain nodded. 

“Then… all of that too!” Jared waved his hands. 

Britain chuckled then nodded. “Go look then.” 

Jared wasn’t so sure, but he slowly walked over to the window and pulled apart the blinds, looking down at his drive way. “Holy… holy shit. It’s really there!” 

“I told you.” Britain grinned. “I’m the real deal baby! Now let’s have a drink and drive around in that car of yours.” He raised the bottle of gin in the air. 

Jared walked back over to him and snatched the bottle away from him. “Let’s go for a drive now, then have that drink later. I want to feel the car’s real before I celebrate.” 

“As long as we have a drink.” Britain took the bottle back and took a swig of the contents. “I love this stuff…” He grinned stupidly. “Yummy, yummy stuff.” 

Jared rolled his eyes, pulled on his shirt from the day before, and headed down to his new car, jinn in tow. 

Yup! What do you think? I rather like it. Britain is loveable <3

Anyhows, that's all I got.

Laters!