This is the post I’ve been waiting to write for years. YEARS! My fantasy novel, LOVE IN A TIME OF MONSTERS, is on sale!
He has a monster problem
Scotland, 1867. When Rob Stevenson’s brother is killed—and eaten—in the forest outside their estate, Rob’s sheltered world is shattered by a monster infestation. Determined to keep his village safe, Rob’s first duty as laird involves hiring a professional hunter.
She kills monsters
The sole survivor of a massacre in the Congo, Catriona Mornay is rumored to have lost her mind in the jungle. In Edinburgh’s gas-lit streets, Cat’s skill as a hunter is unmatched. Her reputation as a killer of unnatural creatures, legendary.
Two worlds collide
Faced with a rising body count, Rob takes a chance on Cat, hoping that somewhere inside this tortured yet charismatic girl is the hero he’s been searching for. But in this shadow realm of secrets, lies, and underworld crime, their lives overlap in more ways than one. And in an age where harpies flock the sky and serpents rule the sea, it’s even possible for a boy and his hunter to fall in love.
But can their love survive in a time of monsters?
You can buy it here:
The ebook is cheaper than the price of popcorn chicken (or Girl Scout cookies for those of you who do not gorge yourself on popcorn chicken) and will net you hours of entertainment. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll feel a little scared and perhaps… a little sexy? I have a dirty mind, and while that’s no secret, aren’t you curious about my dirty mind when applied to a fantasy setting?
As an added bonus, if you buy the paperback version on Amazon, you’ll get the kindle version for $0.99.
I’m thrilled to share this book with you and hope you enjoy it! And once you’ve enjoyed it… please consider leaving a review (I won’t direct you to where, but allow me to point in Amazon’s general direction) to help others find my work and spread my dirty mind around… rather like herpes but in a more pleasant way.
Come August, The Lit Connection will turn six. Six years is a long time, my friends, but sadly, all good things must come to an end. You’ve probably noticed in the past year (or more…apologies!) that my regular posting schedule has taken a dive. For me, anyway, blogging has lost some of its former glory, which is a nice way of saying ‘WordPress is soooo 2006.” After seeing so many of my book-blogging homies come and go and the great Google Reader gone to RSS-feed-heaven (OH GOD WHY?), it’s time to turn over a new leaf. Plus, need I mention that Outlander is finally going to be a TV show and my Jamie Fraser casting skills will be as defunct as Google Reader (again, WHY?!?!?!?) Also, also, many things have changed. I got engaged earlier this year and things are looking up for my writing endeavors (mums the word for now, more on this later).
So I’m taking The Lit Connection to the pound and putting her to sleep. But fear not, I’m keeping her open in case you ever feel the need to troll her archives and read about the first time I discovered Twilight and gushed over Edward/Jacob, in which case, I’ll DIE of embarrassment. That being said, you can still find me all over the interwebs.
Stalkers take note: 1) You can find me at my revamped tumblr: http://teresayea.tumblr.com/
I’m still blogging about books, musicals, shirtless men, swoon-worthy characters, and sexy sinister villains. Tumblr is a smaller garden, easier to maintain. The same silliness still applies. Y’all know me here as T.Y., but I’m taking a cue from Marky Mark and going by my full name. Consider me the ‘Blogger Formerly known as T.Y.’ So come over to my new sandbox and we shall continue to play. Put me in your new feed reader…if you have one now that Google Reader is deceased (I’M STILL PICKING THE SHATTERED PIECES OF MY HEART OFF THE FLOOR. SOB!)
3) My Pinterest With that said, I will be mounting my stallion and riding off into the sunset. I heart you all. Let us engage in a big pervy group hug. T.Y.
Books I Read (Minus the DNF) with random commentary.
Forbidden by Tabitha Suzuma
Comments: Incest is icky, but this is a heartbreaking love story between siblings. And I say this with absolute seriousness. Remember in V.C. Andrews’ Dawn when Philip Cutler is all ‘It’s not incest if we turn the lights off’? and that was um, gross, but in Forbidden, I was really rooting for Maya and Lochan and hoping they’d run away (but not procreate). I felt so TORMENTED after this read.
The Statistical Probability of Love at First Sight by Jennifer E. Smith
Comments: Pretty Cover!
The Fault in Our Stars by John Green
Comments: Hazel’s quest to meet that Peter Van author dude mirrors my Christopher Pike stalking. I can relate. Unlike Peter Van Mumble Mumble, Christopher Pike is really nice and HE WROTE ON MY FB WALL WISHING ME A HAPPY BIRTHDAY ONE WEEK BEFORE MY ACTUAL BIRTHDAY WHICH MEANS HE HAS ME MARKED ON HIS CALENDER. ZOMG I’VE BEEN MARKED BY THE PIKE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! To quote Hazel: What is this life?????
Misery by Stephen King
Comments: The book is much freakier than the movie. I learned a new word: man gland. And when Annie Wilkes threatened to cut off Paul Sheldon’s man gland, I was secretly worshipping Stephen King’s sick mind.
Cujo by Stephen King
Comments: Rabid dogs are scary. That’s all. Read with some liberal skimming as there were lots of exposition on ad agencies and whatnot. Could use a ‘man-gland’ now and then.
The Dressmaker by Kate Alcott.
Comments: Stopped page 195. Reason: Library book due. Aspiring dressmaker on Titanic. I liked the pacing and rapid scene breaks, but when my copy went back to the library, I felt like I could live without finishing it. I’d probably pick it back up again when the Titanic mood strikes.
Dreaming of You by Lisa Kleypas
Comments: Derek Craven is one sexy gambling kingpin. And he speaks with a cockney accent, much like Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins, except Derek gets it ON with mousy romance novelist. Not that Dick Van Dyke doesn’t get it ON now and again. If you recall his Penguin dance, he is very flexible and… feral.
Cracked by K.M. Walton
Comments: The bully and the boy he bullied become roommates in a psych ward. This is neither here nor there, but I kept imagining Biff and George McFly as roommates.
Phantom by Susan Kay
Comments: This is one big mother of a book, but I am obsessed with The Phantom of the Opera and sort of want to marry the man behind the mask. This book is about his life and is so scrumptiously written that I actually looked up from the text to mouth “Wow.” Oh Phantom, you are like the most perfect man EVER. Master architect, magician, composer, tortured genius—who cares about your face? Christine doesn’t deserve you…Please take me to your secret lair and let me play with your mechanical monkey (oh how wrong this sounds).
The Aviary by Kathleen O’Dell
Comments: Gothic-y middle grade involving a tumbledown mansion and an aviary filled with creepy birds. Birds freak me out. Feathers. Beaks. Scaly feet. Nasty avian scum! I once saw a man at the beach with two parrots on his arm and nearly tossed my cookies. Do not EVER ask me to pet your pigeon.
God-Shaped Hole by Tiffanie Debartolo
Comments: This book is like a love letter to LA from characters who hate LA. This book is hilarious and the voice, my God the voice…Since this is blurbed as “This generation’s Love Story” on the cover, I already knew what was coming and yet, the end felt like a million daggers into my heart all the same. And when I finished picking up the shattered pieces of my heart off the floor, I thought about all the tragic endings I encountered this year. The Phantom. This book. A Fault in Our Stars. Forbidden. It’s the year of tempestuous love and untimely deaths. P.S. I pictured Jacob and Trixie as Winona Ryder and Ethan Hawke circa Reality Bites.
I’ve been semi-hard at work on my second novel. I have a title. A badass title. Unfortunately, I am artistically superstitious and cannot talk about my work-in-progress(s) until I’ve finished drafting so you must remain in the dark.
This second project is a YA historical fantasy set in Scotland circa 188o. See collage below… There is a high amount of Victorian Era drug use involving absinthe and syringes. Interesting research fact, syringes were invented in the 19th century–in Scotland, in fact–so it was meant to be.
As per my tastes, the fantasy element is very light so it’s more of an ‘alternate history’ than ‘high fantasy.’ Also, character names and places will never contain ‘ae.’
In three simple words: love, drugs, and monsters.
And below is WIP #3, a YA historical fantasy set in Elizabethan England. It was born out of a NyQuil-induced dream involving Elizabethan-era spies, though the actual premise is pure backstabbing Rome/I,Claudius. A vague description: Ruffle collars, court intrigue, poison, murder, executions, empires, tyrants…
Apparently I only ever blog anymore when I’m high on caffeine and man oh man am I CAFFEINATED.
A couple of irrelevant things. The novel. Oh man the novel. It is a fat man in need of more liposuction. Here are some word count stats that will excite no one but fellow writers and moi.
1st Draft: 113K words.
1st Revision: 103K
2nd Revision: 101K
3rd Revision: 95K
4th and current revision: 80K and shrinking…
My swiftly diminishing word count gets me so jazzed!
Almost as jazzed as thinking about Tom Hiddleston, who I think is a dreamboat but everybody just looks at me with barely concealed disgust and is all, “Of all the hotties in The Avengers, you choose Loki? EW!”
To which I reply: “Hiddleston, much like an olive, is an acquired taste.”
Them: “That’s a taste I’ll never acquire.”
Me: “I want to eat ALL the olives.” And now I realize that’s gross.
But then I hear this sexy voice clip of T.Hiddleston reading from ‘The Read Necklace’ and I want to open up a JAR of olives and GORGE!
These are my thoughts while caffeinated. Now you know I’m weird but I hope you love me anyway.
So folks are telling me I’m getting old. Granted, a lot of the folks I know (bless their bitter little hearts) tend to be assholes and extremely age obsessed. Allow me to recreate a scene from my real life. This is my embittered co-worker giving advice to naive co-worker: “You better get a ring on your finger soon or you’ll end up an old maid like TY.”
Being naturally spunky, I’m all: “I age like fine wine, you !$#^%#$.”
Whereas embittered coworker counters with, “Wine from the Titanic that nobody wants.”
My reply: “Wine from the Titanic is the best wine of all!”
I’m only 27 and as much as I would like to retire from the workforce, the fact that I can’t collect Social Security means I’m not that old. I’d be the first to admit that for a large part of my early twenties, I lived in fear of reaching 30. My obsession with The Witch of Blackbird Pond is partly to blame since Kit Tyler and her cousins got hitched by the ripe old age of 16. Now that I’m almost 30 and surrounded by 21-year-olds dreading 23, I don’t see anything wrong with being a 30 or 40 or 50 year old woman, single, childless, and LIKING IT. So I’ve been going around telling people I can’t wait to turn 30 and the response is always a baffled, sometimes horrified WHY??? They think I have very warped ideas. I think society is warped. Sometimes I feel like I’m living in a Jane Austen novel and that’s not a good feeling.