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.
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.
Better late than never. Remember how I used to blog and make OCD-worthy lists and collages of all I’d read? I still make lists, but collages these days, while never extinct, are few and far between.
2011 was a slim yet memorable reading year. I discovered Lisa Kleypas and dedicated the entire spring to reading her backlists. And new author crush: Stephanie Perkins! I plan to write an entire blog post on how much I swooned during the reading of Lola and the Boy Next Door.
The Wild Rose, the final installment of Jennifer Donnelly’s Rose Trilogy came out in August covered in awesome sauce. There were Lawrence of Arabia and motorcar chases, dude.
In between, there were many ‘Did Not Finished’ books. I’m a notorious abandon-er of books (known to abandon on the last few pages!), so I don’t count something as ‘Read’ unless I read or liberally skimmed every. single. word.
Oh, and I read The Witch of Blackbird Pond again. It’s a sickness. This is re-read #12.
Room by Emma Donoghue
The Witch of Blackbird Pond by Elizabeth George Speare (re-read)
The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald (re-read)
Devil in Winter by Lisa Kleypas
To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee (Re-read).
Sugar Daddy by Lisa Kleypas
Blue-Eyed Devil by Lisa Kleypas
Secrets of a Summer Night by Lisa Kleypas
It Happened One Autumn by Lisa Kleypas
After the Night by Linda Howard
Mine Till Midnight by Lisa Kleypas
Scandal in Spring by Lisa Kleypas
Seduce Me At Sunrise by Lisa Kleypas
Tempt Me At Twilight by Lisa Kleypas
Married by Morning by Lisa Kleypas
Anna and the French Kiss by Stephanie Perkins
Love in the Afternoon by Lisa Kleypas
Intensity by Dean Koontz
The Lost City of Z by David Grann (liberal skimming)
A Shore Thing by Snooki
Jane by April Lindner
The Wild Rose by Jennifer Donnelly
Revolution by Jennifer Donnelly (liberal skimming)
Fury by Elizabeth Miles
Love, Aubrey by Suzanne LaFleur
If Tomorrow Comes by Sidney Sheldon
Lola and the Boy Next Door by Stephanie Perkins
Legend by Marie Lu
and you would be WRONG. Ho ho, guess who’s blogging again.
Okay, so here’s the deal. I’ve been tugging my hair out tinkering with the dreaded query letter and giving myself an ulcer that no amount of Junior Mints could cure. So in my rare, vulnerable moments on ye ole blog in which I express that I have a soul, I’d like to say: if I don’t get published…I will cry. Deep, heart-wrenching, sobs. Heathcliffian head-banging on tree, howling on the moors type of weeping.
For you see, unless I am high on caffeine or the prospect of watching Michael Fassbender’s Shame on a High Definition big screen TV, I am a reticent girl in person. But if I am doing my job right, my novel and query letter will have an authorial voice that BOOMS. Much like how I like to type in ALL CAPs here.
Oh dear. I am having a melodramatic freak-out in which only a picture of Michael Fassbender’s abs could cure.
I planned to re-read The Great Gatsby upon hearing the news that it’s going to be made into a movie and for the sole reason that I don’t remember a darn thing about it. Plus, I’ve entered a phase in which I think I’ve experience enough of life that I could go back and re-read classic novels and finally understand what they mean. That’s not to suggest I wasn’t a deep reader as a teen, but now, in the case of Jay Gatsby, I totally know what its like to harbor a dream and have life shatter said dream into a million jagged little pieces. To quote Fantine from Les Miserable the musical: “Life has killed the dream I dreamed…” The bitter examination of the American Dream, folks. Doesn’t get more depressing than that.
I like the idea of Gatsby more than I like the character. This has got to be said and the literary purist might burn me in effigy, but it was super hard for me to get involved in this book. It was descriptive, sometimes beautifully so (“The exhilaration of her laughter was like a wild tonic in the rain” anyone?) yet why do I not care? Why do I care more about the cast of characters in a romance novel than the Great American novel? Is there something wrong with me? Anyway, empathy…I have none. But the idea of Gatsby, the rich yet lonely man staring at the green dock lights across the bay is oh so romantic. He bought a mansion across from Daisy’s mansion just so he could watch her, which is kind of an expensive way to stalk somebody when the ole bushes n’ binoculars method would suffice.
My parting random thought:
“He dispensed starlight….” What does this mean? I was quite perplexed and this sentence found its way into conversation at work. Combined with all the twinkling that goes on when Gatsby’s around, we likened Gatsby to Edward Cullen and Daisy to Bella. Ha! How do I dare make such a blasphemous analogy! I bet F. Scott Fitzgerald is rolling over in his grave.
As I’m writing this, I am wearing two pairs of pants, one turtleneck, a fleecy sweater, and a big puffy whale hunter jacket, fur lined hood pulled up. God I feel cool, no pun intended. Actually, I feel like I could join forces with Ernest Shackleton on Elephant Island and maybe nibble on cubes of Walrus fat for sustenance. I must stop typing every few seconds and blow hot pockets of air into my frozen palms. I am also thinking of adding an extra pair of socks over the socks I already have on. This is the perfect time to pick a fight; my extra padding is the ultimate body armor. If you punch me I doubt I’ll feel it.
What does this have to do with books? Either I need to read a book set in warmer climes (any recs?) or I’m about to tear up the pages of a few Horrible Dare Novels and start a bonfire OR stuff them down my Whale Hunter jacket or dare I say it? down my pants. More padding is always appreciated.
Anyway, to fulfill my New Year’s Resolution to blog more, I just wanted to wow you with two totally random things.
A collage of My Wardrobe Remix of Spring-Fall of 2010. They remind me of warmer days when I looked normal and not like I’m about to spear a polar bear. In case you’re wondering if I’m a secret mother: I have not yet produced offspring (and probably won’t if I keep referring to children as ‘offspring.’) The little girl is my cousin, I call her Mini Me, and I borrowed her for picture purposes because she likes to ladypose more than I do.
And I’ve always wanted to do a Teaser Tuesday, except I’m going to be a maverick and do it on Monday. Since I’m not reading anything at this moment, I will grab the closest book and flip to a random page.
This book is Monster by Christopher Pike.
Teaser sentence: “We ate together. In a restaurant. We didn’t eat anybody.”