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Monday, September 29, 2014

Dragonbride by Raani York Blog Tour

(The Dragon Chronicles, Book #1)

Shalima, “Daughter of the Light”, was born under special circumstances. She was raised by her aunts instead of her mother because she needed to be prepared to fulfill the prophecies of the Old Scriptures, which told that she was the only Magician on Earth.

Her aunts carefully prepared her for her obligations and her sacred duty. She will have to get married to the Holy Golden Dragon, the King of the Dragons, a huge Earth Dragon with magical talents. She cannot believe that she is the “Chosen One”, who has to protect the Dragon Species, all of Nature and finally the Earth. But when she turned into a teenager it seemed that the Old Scriptures were right. 

Author Bio:

Raani York has been a high volume writer for years. She has published articles, letters, short stories, poems, continuation stories and descriptions of all kind. She also writes novels, some of which can found on her website.

Raani has been educated in Switzerland and in the U.S. She holds a Bachelor's Degree in Business Administration. She also obtained diplomas in Graphic Design, Color Studies and won a prize as a Logo Designer. She speaks four languages and several dialects.

Raani York works and lives in Switzerland and the U.S. and travels often. 


 The mountains possessed a dark but seductive beauty, and they lay in wait for the ones who came through the Fire Hell. The powdered white peaks of the sparkling black mountain-world watched for them with longing.

  The Diamond Mountains gave the illusion of being much closer than they really were, and many a pilgrim had been lured to his death by the promise of riches hidden on their slopes. These mountains were so named because of the rough gems strewn about the black volcanic soil. When the sun shone overhead the gems made the mountains sparkle and shimmer brightly, and at night they made the moonlit mountains glow with a soft silver light.

  People, blinded by both their greed and the tantalizing glittering of the sunlit earth, imagined that there was immeasurable wealth lying there on the ground, just waiting to be picked. However, the mountains never betrayed the secrets they held. None who had ever walked those slopes could find the diamonds hidden within the black soil, for the mountains protected themselves.

  Although healthy forest still grew in the foothills, the undergrowth became sparser just a few hundred feet up, and then the treeline ended. Where stunted trees would normally grow the forest just stopped, as if some unseen hand had cut it short. All that remained were dangerously sharp, dry rocks. Just below the snowline, the rocks disappeared, and the glittering black soil took their place. 

Moreover, at the summit it seemed as if the Creator of All Things had dusted the peaks of the fissured mountain range with powdered sugar, for they were covered with a deceptively soft-looking, yet extremely sharp-edged eternal snow.

  The mountains never betrayed their secrets...
  And if a wanderer were to climb those peaks, going up to the Fire Hell and searching to quench his thirst at a splashing mountain spring, he would find no cool, refreshing water. Instead, these living mountains would seek to frighten him by shrouding the ground with a mysterious fog that made it impossible to see where he was putting his feet. Pilgrims sometimes drowned in the sulfurous pools of water hidden within the hellish rocks when the fog appeared, and if they left the main trails, they would know true fear, for they would be led down treacherous sidepaths that seemed to take them somewhere, yet actually led them nowhere but to their doom. 

  The mountains never betrayed their secrets...
  Though many thought they would find the cool relief of the shadows by early evening, the ascent would continue for another three torturous days. During those three days, their throats would scream for water, and their eyes would tear up in the swirling sand. Blown up by the hot desert winds, the sand burned as it fell upon a traveler's face and skin. Eventually their limbs would become heavy, and they would barely be able to move; thus, the wanderers would be forced to crawl on, farther and farther, until sheer luck eventually brought them to civilization... to people.

  In a canyon between two hills below the mountain range there was a village. It had no official name, but the people living there called it Alpcate├žu, which meant Oasis of the Mountains. Anyone who wanted to climb the mountains had to pass through the village. A few taverns and inns surrounded the village fountain, where a market was sometimes held.

  Some houses and huts had been built in the wide hills and even at the edge of the forest... and in one such place, hidden within the woods, almost four hundred feet past the deepest thicket and connected to the village only by a sidepath lay the place in which I had been born. 

Buy Link:
Smashwords in mobi, epub, pdf, rtf, pdb, html and txt

 The Paperback version on Amazon will be released very soon! More buyer’s links will be available within the next week.

Social Media/ contact:

Friday, September 26, 2014

Thrill Driven by Candi Silk

The title says it all about the insatiable women in this novella. It's hot, enjoyable, and difficult to put down. 

I was able to bring Candi on today with a guest post with a little Q and A about Thrill Driven. Enjoy her witty charm and wild imagination.

Thanks, Elle, for the invitation to stop by and visit with you and your readers.

Elle: Thrill Driven is your latest erotic escapade. Why would women readers be interested in the story?

Candi: Great question, Elle, and probably the same question all authors ask themselves as they are writing a story. In the case of Thrill Driven, I’ve developed and brought together three women that have deep/intimate questions about their individual sexuality. Two of the women, Marla and Sherrie, both mid-thirties, are divorced from disappointing marriages. They’re not bitter and they aren’t whining, but they are on a mission to experiment with some intimate sexual desires that have lingered from their early twenties. Unexpectedly they meet a third woman, Jan, ten years younger, while dance-clubbing. Jan has not had the best of experiences with men. To add tension to the dynamics, Marla and Sherrie have invited one of their favorite bed-mates, Ray, a well-endowed 28 year-old hunk, to be part of their weekend. With that varied mix of sexual undertones, what can possibly happen in a weekend to deliver an enjoyable erotic story for readers?
I believe women and men readers will be drawn to the story because it pulls from some of the real-life thoughts and fantasies that most of us have had from time to time. I write erotic escapades that portray consenting women and men enjoying mutual pleasure. And my writing is tilted toward women’s consideration and perspective. My erotica tends to lead to happy, or pleasant endings.
Another reason women would be interested in reading Thrill Driven is because the story centers on the broad, and sometimes, hazy meaning of sexuality. Currently, in our world, there is much discussion regarding women’s sexuality, and women are leading that conversation. Most of my writing focuses on a “what if” type question. In Lust Driven, which is the beginning of Marla’s story, I posed the question to myself, What would have to happen, and what emotions would be at play for an ordinary, married woman to “break-out” and become a “lust driven” woman in one night, and with two men who are not her husband? The dynamics are interesting.

Elle: How do you respond to the criticism that erotica has no plot, therefore it has no point?

Candi: Take all of the plots that exist, and most authorities and references agree at most there are only about 20. Boil all of them down and you end up with one universal plot that is goal-centered: Someone wants something, and tries to get it. That applies to a 500-page Civil War novel, as well as a short erotica story, or novel. In one case someone is trying to win a major skirmish, and of course there are lots of sub-plots running through a Civil War epic.
In the erotica example, someone wants sex and tries to get it. A war
can linger for years, even decades. Sexual interactions can be as emotionally explosive as a war, and those intimacies can also be impulsive, the chemistry happening very quickly, or extended over a longer period of time. Most often, the common thread in erotica is sex, the physical interactions between and among the characters, so the story centers more on the physical aspects of the relationship, rather than hundreds of pages of garden strolls, hand-holding, porch swings and emotional introspection. If a preponderance of those elements are added to the story the writer will probably classify the book as romance, or maybe erotic romance, depending upon the amount and descriptive sexual content.
Sex is serious. Sex is how we all got here on this planet. Sex sounds like a pretty serious plot for a short erotica story, or a long erotica novel. Consistently erotica runs neck-and-neck with romantic suspense, and contemporary romance in women’s preferences for reading. Women represent 84 percent of buyers of the romance genre (which includes erotica), and men make up only 16 percent. Women readers fuel the romance genres.
The “point” of erotica relates back to the reader’s preference. What is the reader in the mood for? What type story would bring the most reading pleasure for the night? If I’m in the mood for a pulse-quickening erotica, I might turn to a Kirsten McCurran title. However, if I’m in the mood for a human interest, family drama, I’ll turn to a title of Elle Klass, a favorite author of mine. Very different books, with different intents, but equally enjoyable for me. For me that’s the joy of reading from different genres.

Elle: Where do your stories come from?

Candi: First of all, I do not write about my life, or any people I’ve known in the past, or currently. Often, I’ll get an idea from a news article. Sometimes a story begins when I think of an imaginary character. That was true for Lust Driven, and Thrill Driven. Other times I think of a situation, predicament, or set of circumstances, and begin wondering what character A, B, and C will do with that. But Elle, there is so much drama in real-life families, the work environment, the fitness center, the coffee shop, or any other place where people congregate, that there should be no shortage of stories to harvest.

Always exciting and always a pleasure. Candi, you have a way of bringing out those everyday drama's and turning them into something kinky and fun! Thank you Candi!

It has been my pleasure to visit The Troubled Oyster. I’ve read and noticed that interesting things take place here. I want you to know I’ve read your work; you’re a very talented writer. Keep writing your unique books!

My Review:

Thrill Driven by Candi Silk is an exciting, entertaining erotic read. Marla meets Sherrie and their mutual sexual desires for one another build eventually giving way to an evening full of naughty adventures. Marla’s two scorching hot male friends, Ben and Ray, have a connection to Sherrie as well and the women tell all in their meeting, not leaving out any juicy parts. As the novella heats up the women go out on the town and kick up some dirt and inflate others passions with their dirty dancing. They catch the eye of another woman Jan who is spending the evening with a boring male friend and soon the three women heat up the pages of the book with their lustful encounters.

The pages in this story flashed by with lightning speed as the character’s actions pulled me in. These women are naughty and no how to let loose and have fun. They teach each other how to enjoy. I loved how the women connected not only on a steamy level but through their life experiences and mutual female understanding. Candi did an excellent job with the dialogue between the women. It was open and hysterical as well as true!

A fascinating,light and sizzling read!

Where to find Thrill Driven and Candi's other sizzling books:
Candi Silk Amazon
Barnes and Noble
A Taste of Candi Blog
Candi at Wordpress

Tuesday, September 23, 2014

In My Bubble

Tonight I curled up with a glass of wine, Eye of The Storm- my soon-to-be-released book and entered my bubble. The place nothing else exists excepts the characters in my book. The place where I'm an onlooker following my characters directions.

The book is ready for ebook upload, except for one small dilemma that I'm looking for your help with. I'm still working on the blurb.

Here's what I have...

A disturbance at her neighbor's house piques Eilida’s curiosity. What she discovers is so shocking it sends her running through the mountainous woods during a thunderstorm. She slips on the wet ground, plummets down Mount Wilde, and slams into a large boulder beside River Freedom. Eilida is transported to Lyden, where Sunshine, a receptionist at the local paper becomes engrossed in her story. The further Sunshine delves into Eilida’s life the more entangled their lives become. Paranormal events, frightening dreams, and terror filled memories draw the women together into an unthinkable web of horror.

You the audience are the experts. Would you buy this book? I'm asking for your feedback and will appreciate all of it.

Here is a blurb:

Meet Sunshine's Ghost...

The bedroom I stayed in had a twin bed with starched flat sheets that felt cold and inflexible against my back. Unable to sleep, I moseyed into the kitchen for a drink. Everyone else was asleep and an ambiguous silence fell through the air and surrounded me. I felt like I was in a dream lurking around a haunted home. With every step I expected a poltergeist to sail down from the ceiling and take charge of my body or find a zombie hunkered in a corner eating Jerry’s flesh. 

In the kitchen I rummaged through his refrigerator watching behind my back the entire time. The contents inside were cataloged into groups, and unopened like he never ate. His cabinets were the same, all labels facing out and nothing out of place, creepy. A breeze against my back told me I wasn't alone. I turned slowly and my ghost sat at the table, her head down and dark hair flowing long and twisted. 

I’m not scared; I’m not scared I chanted to myself as I moved towards her. I’m not scared, I’m not scared, and she was now in front of me. Anxiety cropped up within the pit of my stomach and crested. I took a deep breath and slowly, gingerly raised my hand to touch her. If she was a ghost my hand would go through. If she was something more than that I probably wouldn't live to know what. My hand glided towards her, ever so close, dangling beside her bent-in shoulders. 

Thursday, September 18, 2014

Zero Point Blog Tour

The Zero Point Blog Tour is brought to you by Curiosity Quills.


Near future Great Britain is on the brink of collapse. Mass riots. Economic meltdown. Blackouts. And a new oil war in Iraq to keep the world economy afloat.

Iraq War veteran and war crimes whistleblower David Ariel is sick of violence, and trying to make ends meet working for Specialist Protection. But after Prime Minister Carson is brutally assassinated by extremists on Ariel’s watch, he is covertly targeted by a compromised police investigation.

When forensics discover that Carson’s assassination inexplicably defied the very laws of physics, bodies drop like flies as key witnesses are murdered in impossible circumstances.

Fleeing for his life while London is locked-down under martial law, Ariel gets a phone call from Iraq he will never forget. His estranged girlfriend, journalist Julia Stephenson, warns that the Carson killing is just the beginning of a wider plot to bring the West to its knees. Then she disappears.

Ariel’s blood-soaked race against time to track the terror cells behind Carson’s death tumbles into the cross-fire of a hidden battle between mysterious rogue intelligence agencies. The goal: to monopolise black budget technologies which could unlock the universe’s darkest, arcane secrets.

As the world he thought he knew unravels, Ariel faces off against bent coppers, double-crossing agents, psychic killers and super soldiers to complete a black ops mission like no other: stop Quantum Apocalypse.

About The Author: 

Nafeez Ahmed is a bestselling author, investigative journalist, and international security academic. He writes for The Guardian via his Earth Insight blog, reporting on the geopolitics of interconnected environmental, energy and economic crises. The author of five critically-acclaimed non-fiction works addressing humanity’s biggest global challenges, Nafeez’s forthcoming book is a science fiction thriller, ZERO POINT, due out 18th August 2014.

Nafeez has also written for the Independent on Sunday, The Independent, The Scotsman, Sydney Morning Herald, The Age, Huffington Post, New Statesman, Prospect Magazine, Le Monde Diplomatique, among many others. He has been a talking head for BBC News 24, BBC World News with George Alagiah, BBC Radio Five Live, BBC Radio Four, BBC World Today, BBC Asian Network, Channel 4, Sky News, C-SPAN Book TV, CNN, FOX News, Bloomberg, PBS Foreign Exchange, Al-Jazeera English, Press TV, Islam Channel and hundreds of other radio and TV shows in the USA, UK, and Europe.

Nafeez is also cited and reviewed in the Sunday Times, Times Higher Educational Supplement, New York Times, The Independent, Independent on Sunday, The Observer, Guardian, Big Issue Magazine, Vanity Fair, among others.


I opened the door.
It led to another corridor, narrower than the last, but still stark white, with a door at the end. 
I hurried down to the other end, then opened the next door. It opened into what looked like some kind of observation room. Low, sleek control panels potted with dials, buttons, and wires lined three walls. In the middle wall was a huge window onto another room, also completely white, but with a huge, bell-shaped metallic formation set in the centre, supported by a steel lattice henge-like structure. Across the lower rim of the bell formation was a string of peculiar symbols. They reminded me of hieroglyphics, except without pictures―just dots and lines.
Two people, a man and a woman, both wearing white coats, were standing at the control panels and watching intently. They hadn’t noticed me.
Then the bell formation began spinning. Within a minute, it was spinning so fast it was glowing with heat and light. There was a faint hum in the air, and the atmosphere suddenly felt somehow thicker, heavier, and pregnant with static. I could taste a faint but distinct metallic flavour on my tongue.
The bell rose into the air. There were no pulleys or wires suspending it. It was levitating.
I watched spellbound as I heard the man tell the woman, presumably his assistant, “Increase clockwise rotation of the outer shell to 80,000 rpm, and the counter-rotation of the inner core to the same speed.”
“Yes, Professor,” said the woman, turning a dial on the control panel nearest her. 
The bell levitated higher and flashed brighter. In a second, a bright white light filled the room, and the metallic taste in my mouth became strong and bitter. 
Then I noticed that the cube in my fist had grown cold, a peculiar deep ice cold that, nevertheless, inexplicably wasn’t uncomfortable. I held it up to my face, opening my fist to gaze at it while nestled in my palm.

Amidst the stunning pure white light in which I was immersed, the stark blackness of the cube broke the continuum like a sharp-edged black hole. Its darkness absorbed my gaze, as if beckoning me into its unknown depths.

Where to Find Nafeez Ahmed:

Where to Buy:
Barnes and Noble

Wednesday, September 17, 2014

Immortal Hela Cells

I'm letting out my science beast tonight. I'm a nerd and proud of it. I absolutely loved this book and of course, I had to post my review here. Generally, I read fiction and lots of it but this book caught my attention. As a science teacher I'm certified to teach middle school and high school biology so HeLa Cells became my before bed reading last night.


First, I have to admit I love science; especially biology. Reading this book was a pleasure for me. I have heard about HeLa cells before but never knew where they came from. It was interesting to find out about their origins  and learn about the donor. The breakthroughs in biology and medical science have been phenomenal over the past century but what they did was unethical and goes against the backbone of experimental  testing and subjects. Although having the HeLa cells have contributed to many medical advancements. The content wasn’t all that caught my attention with this book. The author was able to bring difficult concepts to a level anyone could understand with word usage and pictures.  HeLa Cells was really an awesome, informative read.

This book is worth checking out!

Tuesday, September 16, 2014

Megan Cyrulewski- Who Am I Blog Tour

It's my pleasure to take part in Megan's Blog Tour for her recently released book Who Am I? 


Megan Cyrulewski has been writing short stories ever since she was ten-years-old.  Eventually she settled into a career in the non-profit sector and then went back to school to get her law degree.  While she was in school, she documented her divorce and child custody battle in her memoir, Who Am I? How My Daughter Taught Me to Let Go and Live Again, which was released on August 2, 2014.  Megan lives in Michigan with her 3-year-old daughter who loves to dance, run, read, and snuggle time with Mommy.  Megan also enjoys her volunteer work with Troy Youth Assistance as the Fundraising Chair on the Board of Directors.


Megan Cyrulewski is an ordinary person who has faced
extraordinary challenges and now wants to inspire people and show them that hope gives them the power to survive anything. Who Am I? is about her journey into post-partum depression, anxiety disorder, panic attacks, visits to the psych ward, divorce, domestic violence, law school, and her courageous struggle to survive with her sanity intact—and how a beautiful little girl emerged from all this chaos.


Chapter One:  Ahhh…Young Love

Envy. There is a reason why it’s one of the seven deadly sins. It can kill you. It almost killed me.

The summer of 2004, I was 26 and just got out of a long-term relationship. Good man, he just wasn’t the right man for me.

I had just found out that my old college roommate had recently gotten engaged. The two of us were always “competing” during college: who was skinnier, who can pick up the most guys at the bar. Stupid girl stuff. Other friends of mine were either married or having babies. I think the last straw was finding out my high school sweetheart had gotten engaged. Somewhere in fantasyland, I always thought it was possible we might get back together. Needless to say, I was definitely envious.

That summer, my roommate, Jessica, bought a house. At the time we were sharing an apartment, but she asked if I wanted to move into her house. Jessica and I had known each other since high school and she was the best roommate, and one of the best friends, I have ever had. Without hesitation, I agreed. A month after moving in, we had a house warming party. That’s when I met Tyler*.

I knew Tyler slightly because he was engaged to one of Jessica’s friends, Natalie. Tyler and Natalie and been together for about three years. They had even come to a couple of parties Jessica and I had thrown at our apartment.  I had never really talked to him, though. Tyler and Natalie had broken up around the same time I had broken up with my-long term man.

Jessica didn’t want to invite Tyler because she didn’t want any tension between him and Natalie. A few days before the party, though, we found out Natalie was going to be out of town. Coincidentally, Tyler stopped by that same night to give something of Natalie’s to Jessica. That was the first time I had really looked at hime and I liked what I saw: good-looking, goofy smile, and deep-blue eyes. The attraction was instantaneous. So, I decided to invite him to the house-warming party. Why the hell not? Natalie wasn’t going to be there. After getting the eyes of death from Jessica, she reluctantly told him the day and time.

The night of the party, Tyler knocked on the door. When I opened it, I gave him a hug and told him I was glad he was there because at least I had someone to flirt with. I didn’t really pay attention to him too much during the party.  But after everyone had left, he and I ended up talking until five in the morning.

A couple of nights later, we went on our first date. We went to dinner and then back to his house to watch a movie. We were very open with each other. I told him about my anxiety disorder, he told me about his drug addiction and how he had been clean for years. Five months later, I moved in with him, four months after that we got engaged and a year later, we were married. Needless to say, the relationship was on overdrive from the beginning.

The relationship wasn’t perfect, but whose is? Tyler didn’t like his current job and was looking for a new one.  Tyler was trying to quit smoking because he knew I didn’t like it. Tyler was a recovering addict and going to NA meetings. It’s a stressful time. That became my mantra. Tyler got angry. “It’s a stressful time.” Tyler screamed at me. “It’s a stressful time.”

I was an independent woman in my mid-twenties, in a stable job making $55,000 and climbing up the corporate ladder. I understood stress. I was also in complete denial. This was the beginnings of what I would later understand was a domestic violence relationship and a relationship with someone who has Narcissistic Personality Disorder (NPD). There were the signs of these disorders, of course, but I didn’t recognize them at the time.

My paternal family is 100% Polish. In my grandmother’s generation, girls were expected to get married and have babies. A lot of babies. My grandmother was one of six children. After I graduated from high school, on Christmas Eve, my grandmother would pray that the next year I would get married and start a family. I always smiled and told her maybe. I loved my grandmother very much. She was the only grandparent I had ever known.

After Tyler and I got engaged, we went to my grandmother’s house to tell her the news she had been waiting for. When we told her, she stood up, pushed me aside, hugged Tyler and said, “God bless you.” The memory still makes me smile. Three months later, she had a stroke. In February 2006, seven months before the wedding, my grandmother passed away. Devastation doesn’t even coming close to how I felt. I called in to work, stayed in bed and cried for two days.

The night of the funeral, my dad's company catered dinner at my parent’s house for our family. On the way to their house, I noticed that the car was low on gas. I stopped at a gas station and asked Tyler if he could pump the gas. Tyler was on the phone and told me to pump the gas myself. We were only two miles from my parents’ house. I was still upset and crying from the funeral. I asked him again to please just pump the gas. He didn’t even bother to answer me. I got out of the car and pumped the gas myself. When I got back into the car, I told Tyler that I was upset and a little angry. What happened next was my first glimpse into the emotional abusive side of domestic violence.

“You are such a spoiled little bitch who expects the world to be handed to you,” Tyler screamed at me. “Turn the fucking car around.”

Not saying a word, I turned the car around and headed back home to drop off Tyler, who kept spewing vile words.

“You and your family think you’re so much better than me. Did daddy pump your gas for you all the time? Well guess what? You actually have to do things yourself now. It’s time for you to grow up and live in the real world.”

Tears streamed from my eyes. I still had not said a word.

“Your grandmother probably killed herself because she didn’t want to deal with you anymore. She probably got tired of your spoiled behavior and decided death was better than you. I’m glad I’m going home because I don’t want to watch your fucking family cry all night.”

When we got back home, I parked in the driveway and finally let loose.

“How dare you!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. “I just lost my grandmother! Get out of my car! Get out!”

Tyler started laughing. “Look at you. You’re a joke. You should get some help for those anger issues of yours. Don’t bother coming back, bitch. Your shit will be on the curb.”

I left and went to my parents’ house. When my dad asked about Tyler, I said we got into an argument and he’s at home. My dad, who is the family peacemaker and almost never says anything negative said under his breath, “What a night for him to pick a fight.”

About an hour into dinner, Tyler called me. He said he wanted to come over and apologize. At this point, I was so emotionally drained I really didn’t care. When he arrived, he waltzed right into the house like nothing had ever happened. He pulled me aside and told me that he blew up because he was under so much stress from taking care of me the last couple of days. Looking back at the moment, I wonder how he even had the audacity to blame my grandmother’s death for his behavior. At the time, I was just glad he wasn’t mad anymore.

The next couple of months were calm. No arguments and Tyler and I were having fun planning the wedding. Obviously, the argument the night of my grandmother’s funeral was a result of stress. We got through it and according to Tyler, it wouldn’t happen again.

Early June 2006, I was in bed reading and waiting for Tyler to come home from a Narcotics Anonymous (NA) meeting. When he got home, he came upstairs and walked toward the bed. He stopped and asked if I smelled anything.

“No,” I said, a little confused.

“It smells like cat piss.” (We had a cat that sometimes urinated outside the litter box.)

Tyler looked around the room and picked up a bed pillow off the floor. He smelled it.

“She pissed on this pillow.”

I laughed. “It’s sad when the pillow is right next to me and I can’t smell the pee.”

Tyler didn’t laugh. “Clean it up.”

“I’ll put it in the wash tomorrow. Just throw it in the basement.”

Tyler picked up the pillow. “Bitch. You waited until I came home because you knew I would fucking clean it.” He ripped the book I was reading right out of my hands and threw it across the room. “Get off your fat lazy ass, get some paper towels  and clean it!”

I started to shake. The monster had emerged again.  I couldn’t say anything. Tyler picked up the pillow and shoved it in my face.

“Smell it!” He screamed. “Can you smell it now, bitch? Now your face smells like cat piss. You’re disgusting. Who would want you anyway?”

Tyler threw the pillow back on the floor and stormed downstairs. I just sat in bed, paralyzed from fear. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t even cry.

I don’t know how much time had passed before Tyler came back. Without saying a word, he picked up two water bottles I had sitting on the nightstand beside me, unscrewed the tops, and poured water on me. He laughed and went back downstairs.

I took off my pajamas, turned out the light and rolled to the dry side of the bed. Before long, I heard Tyler come up the stairs again. I began to shake. He ripped the covers off of me.

“You would sleep in a wet bed. I should have poured cat piss on you and let you sleep in that,” he laughed. “Get out of my fucking bed and sleep outside.”

I got out of bed and put on dry pajamas. I took off my engagement ring, threw it on the bed and left. I went to Jessica’s house and asked if I could spend the night. I didn’t talk about what happened. I just told her that the engagement was off and I just needed to sleep. Jessica never asked any questions and I love her for that.

Before long, my phone rang and it was Tyler. He asked me to come back home. I was hesitant, but he convinced me to come back home and talk. I left Jessica a note and went back home.

When I got home, Tyler was sitting on the couch. “I’m going to get a six-pack of beer, drink it and kill myself.”

Shocked, I sat down next to him. “Do you want me to call someone? Should I call your sponsor? I don’t know what to do.”

Tyler kept repeating. “I’m going to kill myself.” He was crying, but there weren’t any tears.

I hugged him. “We’ll get through this. We’ll get help. Please don’t kill yourself. I love you too much.”

“Thank you,” Tyler smiled. And just like that, he got up, told me he loved me, and went to bed.

Looking back, I now realize that this was Tyler’s way of manipulation. Tyler knew he let his anger get out of control, to the point that I walked away. To get me back, he subtly blamed me for what happened by alluding that he was going to commit suicide. At the time, I felt guilty for not cleaning the damn pillow. If I had cleaned that pillow, this never would have happened. I promised myself to be more careful in the future.

The next morning, my engagement ring was on my nightstand.**

Buy Links
Barnes and Noble

Monday, September 15, 2014

It's been a while!

The past couple weeks have been an extremely busy time for me but I have a post for you today :-).

Baby Girl Book 3: City by the Bay was on tour through Double Decker Books. They did a wonderful job on the posters and these ladies have unrivaled creativity. Instead of the usual blog tour Cleo and I put together a book soundtrack and she cleared her schedule for a character interview! 

Below are all the wonderful bloggers who helped out. Take a moment to check out their handy work and say hi. 

Cubicle Blindness
The Book Swap
Sunshy Books
The Purple Pen
Cup of Tea and a Book
Music, Lyrics & Me
A TiffyFit's Reading Corner
Jai and K's Reviews
City Life Reader
Ink Spell Reviews
Partners in Books
Vonnie's Reading Corner
Spilling words
and check out Kaycee's Rebelmouse!

A very big thank you and cyber hug to all the bloggers who made the book tour a success!

I have also been working on final edits for Eye of The Storm a paranormal suspense thriller written from the perspective of two women. 


Fever had consumed me and I shivered under my covers with sweat pouring out of every crevasse. A three tier wedding cake and bridesmaids danced around in my head. A hideous rainstorm nearly washed us off the road. Without warning, I was no longer in a car with friends driving in a ferocious squall but I was walking towards a proverbial melody following a dismal apparition. 

Then a man coalesced before me, his face ambiguous, and his voice that of demon spawn. It mocked my existence. My feet took hold and pounded the saturated earth until a wooden chest manifested before my eyes, it represented safety from the beast. 

Oh my head! Static reverberated against the walls of my skull leaving lacerations across the folds of my brain. A familiar warm feeling squeezed my hand. It was that of my mother. I recognized her face from the pictures but the warmth of her hand native to my existence. She was indeed my mother and comfort washed over me.


The image before me was fuzzy but I could see outlines of the eyes and a nose but not the mouth. Under the nose was still something indefinable. Soaked to the bone I continued. Somewhere inside my soul I had heard the lullaby before. A memory flooded back in disjointed pieces; being held and rocked, a storm and a man. 

Suddenly, to my right, he came out of the fog towards me. “There you are,” he said. His voice sent a sharp pang echoing through me. As a reaction I ran. My feet driving hard into the sinking ground beneath them. The rain turned to blood and a wooden chest, the kind a woman would use to preserve her wedding dress in, materialized before me. Scrambling to reach it and close the lid I jolted awoke.

Tears covered my face. Outside, the lightning illuminated the sky and water pounded my window. The dream had unleashed a very real terror inside me. My body shivered and I yanked the covers up under my chin and curled myself into a ball. I could hear my own heart beat.

In the following weeks I will introduce you to some of the quirky characters.

Monday, September 8, 2014

The Moment When I Realize...

Just the other day I was asked, "how are your book sales going?" 
I was a little depressed to say, "My kindle sales have dropped." Out of coincidence I logged into createspace later that afternoon and realized my paperback sales are up! 

I gave up a few kindle sales for paperback sales. Yippee! Honestly, like most authors I sell far more ebooks; needless to say how wonderful it is to see that people enjoy my book enough to take the big plunge and buy it in paperback.

Baby Girl Book 3: City by the Bay is on tour right now! Click here to visit, read Cleo's interview and listen to BG3's book soundtrack. And enter the giveaway which includes a grand prize including a Starbucks gift card and Baby Girl 3 kindle and 2 other prizes of Baby Girl 3 kindle. Only 4 days left.

The Baby Girl series is still popping in and out of the top 100 on Kindle.
 Baby Girl Book 2: Moonlighting in Paris is at #79 in 90 Minute Teen Adult Short Reads.

Baby Girl Book 3 is #79 in Teen and Young Adult Short Stories.

My biggest news which I saved for last is Baby Girl Book 1 is now free! 
each day it becomes available free at more and more online retailers.

Within the next 2 months I hope to release Eye of The Storm Volume 1 in the  Ruthless Storm Trilogy. More info when the time draws closer.

Many thanks and best wishes!