Praise for ‘HEALER’S TOUCH’
“I wanted to cheer her on a few times when she stood up for herself. I was also embarrassed for her
a time or two when she couldn’t control her mouth. ” Lostinsidethecovers Blog
Take a Peek Inside
Excerpt #1 –
“So Quaver wants me to ‘keep me safe’, and Braph wants me for my blood. What do Turhmos want me for? To fight for their army?” Llew asked.
Jonas choked on a laugh and Llew glared at him.
“I can fight.”
“You throw a letter opener mighty fine. But there’s a difference between a back-road scuffle and a battlefield.”
“What do they want with me, if not to fight?” She turned back to Aris.
“They want your sons,” said Aris.
“My–? But I don’t… ew!” Llew had never taken the time to consider having children, but the thought now thrust itself into her brain. She didn’t like it. Especially not in an unknown country under some sort of marital arrangement. Or martial, for that matter.
Excerpt #2 –
Jonas punched the tree again. Bark and blood flew; his skin wasn’t impenetrable.
“Hey, Jonas.” Hisham slid from his horse and went to grab Jonas’ arm. But Jonas just swung even faster and harder – too fast for his friend. The tree creaked, and pain shot up his arm. He folded over, cradling the limb and shaking out his hand, all the while cursing profusely and stamping a foot.
“That’s not helping, my friend,” said Hisham, placing a hand on Jonas’ back. “We’re doin’ the best we can.”
Jonas took a moment to breathe through his curses. Then he straightened, stretching and clenching the injured hand. He’d scraped his knuckles good and jarred his bones, but nothing was broken. He looked at Hisham, thinking he would just agree with his friend, climb back on his horse, and they would carry on. But when he looked up, all he wanted to do was punch something – someone – else, and Hisham didn’t deserve it.
Jonas turned away, striding several frustrated paces, muttering, cursing Braph, cursing Turhmos, cursing himself for leaving Llew, cursing Llew for not just letting him be and staying put inside where she was safe, cursing Lord Tovias for not having an estate secure against Braph… He walked away from and back to Hisham several times, muttering and cursing, muttering and cursing. And finally stopped in front of his friend and puffed out a deep breath.
“I know,” he said. “But it’s not enough. Braph can fly.”
Curious yet? Check it out! ‘Healer’s Touch’ is running a 99C special right now! An awesome book for less than a buck!
Available at these online retailers (in multiple formats):
Also available through Barnes & Noble, Kobo and various other outlets!
…Still not satisfied? Get in touch with the author here!:
(…Seriously, go check it out.)
My book is going FREE April 13th & 14th! I’m doing some cross promotion with New Adult Fiction Addiction, a page here on facebook that promotes/talks about/enjoys New Adult fiction. New Adult Fiction Addiction
If you or someone you know is a New Adult author (NA), and would like to participate in future NAFA weekend frenzies, send them a PM! They need people/books to promo for May!
Books for April:
Celine (The Night Touched Chronicles Book #1) byMaegan Provan:
Siren Snow: Book #1 of the Redhaven Saga by Victoria Barrow
The Fifth Circle by Tricia Drammeh:
So, you’ve written a book. Sweet! Publish that bitch, and feel awesome. You’ve done the hard work, made some characters, put them through some shit, and squished it all together in a readable, cohesive format. Smell your pages, look at your shiny kindle/nook file, and relax. Job well done.
Aaah… Let’s take a minute.
….Mmm, the taste of victory.
Wait a minute… oh crap, that’s a series. So, I have to write another one?
OH CRAP. I HAVE TO WRITE ANOTHER ONE!
So, that’s a thing. Sequels, I mean. When you write a series.
I kind of forgot about that. Siren Snow got done, and I was just happy to get it out. I thought I’d just plot out my next book, and write it, and chug along, and it’d all be hunky dory.
Sounds easy, right? Of course! Pfft, all you need to do is plot some stuff, work out the threads from the last book, and then write it. Duh.
Seriously though, this sequel is a bitch. It was easy the first time. I could introduce stuff as I went, and it was a new world and I was starting from scratch. Everything was new and shiny, and we were all just along for the ride, experiencing it all for the first time. We were getting to know characters, exploring a new literary universe, and we found out things as we went.
As I’m finding with book #2… Not so much. I have to catch people up without barraging them with info dumps. I have sew the threads of new ideas, while making sure I don’t forget anything important from the last book that’ll crop up in this one. Oh, and new characters. I have to weave new characters in.
And make sure my heroin isn’t a totally different person.
And that stuff is believable within the time frame.
And no one’s forgotten.
And everything that was left open in the last book is at least addressed in this one.
And time skips… I have to address a time skip and have it not just be a black hole of info blob I give later.
So yeah, suffice to say, writing a sequel is NOTHING like writing the first book in a series. I feel like there’s an obvious answer to all this, some simple scientific way to approach it that’ll make it flow easier in my brain.
Let me be honest for a moment: I’ve been floundering and struggling with this damn book for like, a fucking month now. I, for the life of me, cannot find some way to make the beginning of this book work. Like, seriously. I think I may have shot myself in the foot with the end of the first book. Honestly, I think it’s mostly that I’ve got an entirely new character to ease in. In my head, I already know his story, and how he’s going to end up in the long run, but it’s like trying to fit in an extra pea in a pod. …Or something.
I just wanna run away.
But I think I’ve found a solution!
Turns out, I just had to wait. No really, that’s it. I had a writing epiphany half asleep one morning, and I realized I was rushing it. I was wanting so much just to pick up with this damn book and have it come out as easy (more or less) as the first one. But you can’t really do that with a sequel. It’s an entirely new animal. There’s an entire universe to consider before you even write down ‘chapter 1’. I had to let it sit. I figured out that… Well, it’s a long story, but I figured it out. Finally.
There is no magic way to make writing work, or come out of your brain smoothly.
Moral of this very strange, gif filled post: If you’re struggling with something, especially writing, and it just wont come to you, wait for inspiration. Don’t force it. Writing is an art, not a science.
((Also… damn you Maegan for getting me hooked on gifs. :p ))
Today, we’re going to talk about the plague of independent publishers. There are more small presses than any of us could possibly count. They pop up seemingly overnight, publish ten or two-hundred books or so, and then vanish, often leaving bewildered authors to pick up the pieces of their publishing careers. Though there are vanity presses and scammers intent on defrauding authors, there are many small publishers who started their company with the very best of intentions.
I’d like to believe that most small presses set up shop with the intent to help authors and perhaps make a bit of money in the process. I’d like to hope these well-meaning entrepreneurs have a solid business plan, a proven marketing model, and good financial backing before they undertake such a venture. I’d like to hope the publishing company and their authors will thrive, eventually growing the business and becoming successful, respected…
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There’s a problem in Teen and Young Adult Fiction, and if you’re a parent of a teen or an author who writes YA, you know what I’m talking about. The age group gravitating toward Young Adult fiction seems to get younger and younger every year. YA appeals to readers of many ages. I love it. Heck, my mom loves it too! There seems to be no limit to the ages YA fiction appeals to–and this has caused quite a problem. Children as young as eleven are plucking YA books off the shelf, and as any parent of teens can tell you, a book that is appropriate for a seventeen-year-old may not be suitable for a younger teen or preteen.
This puts authors and parents in a tough position. For parents sifting through the ever-expanding YA section in the bookstore, it isn’t readily apparent which books have strong language or sexual…
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Want a free book?
You can have mine!
I’m looking for readers interested in urban fantasy / paranormal fantasy / romance / NA (New Adult) genres to read my book – for free! The only thing I’m asking in return is a fair review on Amazon and Goodreads. That’s it! You get a free book, and I get some feedback. Sounds good, no?
I can provide you a copy in either PDF, epub, or mobi formats. If you’re feeling especially generous, Siren Snow is also available for purchase on amazon in print or kindle editions. Just click-the-pic!
Baring that, let me know if you’re interested and I’ll get you a copy. :) Reblog or share this if you know someone who might be interested!
Welcome to the blog tour!
Let’s get started with some delicious excerpts!
“Rachel, I’m not turning this car around just because you forgot something. What could possibly be so important?” My mother’s clipped, irritable tone would normally make me back down instantly, but I couldn’t afford to lose this particular argument.
“I need to…” I trailed off as I watched the figure draw closer to our car. I could feel his eyes on me and the pull at my magic as it came closer. My heart beat wildly and sweat began to gather on my upper lip. The Alexanders warned me about Hunters, but I’d never really believed them—not until now.
“If you need something, you’ll buy it here, or you won’t have it. Understood?” She opened the car door and grabbed her purse. I wondered if a Hunter would dare attack me in the crowded Wal-Mart parking lot. Prickles of fear shot up my spine, and I decided I didn’t want to find out how persistent a Hunter could be.
“Wait!” I shouted, grabbing the strap of her purse and nearly causing it to break. “I…” The Hunter was so close now; I could make out the ragged outline of his tattered clothing. He slipped in between parked cars and crept closer. I cursed myself for having left my necklace at home. I knew my request to drive twenty miles back home seemed absurd to my mother, but I couldn’t afford to travel all the way to Atlanta without it. If the Hunters could find me here, they could find me anywhere.
My mother’s furious gaze settled on me, and in times past, I would have stammered an apology. Opening and closing my mouth in helpless desperation, I glanced behind me; the creature was so close, I could see his glowing red eyes. Clutching at my mother’s arm, I vowed that if I escaped my present danger unscathed, I would never doubt Jerica’s warnings again. Panic emboldened me, and I met my mother’s angry stare.
I delved into her mind, felt our connection click into place, and overrode her will with minimal effort. “We must return home. You left the iron on,” I lied. Her eyes widened as the implanted notion took root.
She gasped. “Oh, my goodness! Rachel, I think I left the iron on. We’ll have to go back home. Call your brother and tell him we’ll be a little later than we expected,” she urged as she slammed the car door shut. Another mental nudge from my mind had her peeling out of the parking spot, nearly hitting the Hunter as we passed him.
I trembled from head to toe during our drive back home and my shallow breathing made me feel light-headed. Scanning my surroundings, I flew into the house, grabbed my necklace, and fumbled with the clasp as I placed it around my neck. In an instant, my panic subsided, and I took a deep breath.
“Was I right? Did I leave the iron on?” Mama asked as I climbed into the passenger seat.
“Yes. It’s a good thing you remembered,” I said.
“It certainly was a blessing we decided to stop off at Wal-Mart, wasn’t it?” she asked. I nodded in agreement. It was a blessing. Had we made it to Atlanta without my necklace, I’d have been a Hunter magnet for a week. And, had one caught up with me, I never would have made it back to Oaktree. At least not alive.
The temperatures during the second week of school reached record highs, and the walk home was beyond miserable. I’d been too apathetic to take my driver’s test; consequently, I was practically the only junior in my high-school forced to either take the bus or hoof it. I cut through a field behind the school to get home faster. The hot sun beat down on my short, dark hair, and I felt a line of sweat slither down my back.
I noticed two figures just ahead of me, and nearly turned back. Most of my fellow classmates despised me, and since the feeling was mutual, I tried to avoid contact with them whenever possible. When I recognized Jace, I cursed the fact that I had no social skills to speak of. He seemed different from the people I’d grown up with, and might have stopped to speak to me. He’d managed to resist Becky, after all.
Jace wasn’t the only person who’d resisted my cousin; I could only hope he would be able to hold out longer than the last guy. Back in middle school, Becky and I both liked the same boy, but when he expressed interest in me instead of her, my popular cousin retaliated by spreading vicious rumors about me. Too shy to fight back, I remained silent while the whole school turned against me. Long after the boy moved away, long after Becky fell in love with someone else, the repercussions of that ill-fated crush continued to haunt me.
I thought about Jace and how I might be willing to go through the whole love-triangle drama all over again on the off-chance that he might return my interest. Walking slowly through the field, a vague fantasy began to form inside my head: Jace asking me out, our whirlwind courtship, eventual proposal, and elopement to Vegas.
I squinted and peered into the distance, but couldn’t identify the person who stood just a few feet away from Jace. Oaktree, Georgia was a small town and I knew almost everyone, but I didn’t recognize this guy. They circled each other, and at first, I thought the two guys were messing around. Cautiously, I drew closer and realized I’d misinterpreted the situation. Jace leapt to the side as the large man lunged at him. I let out a startled shriek.
Jace looked over his shoulder and shouted, “Don’t come any closer!” I staggered back a step and almost tripped over my own feet.
The attacker took advantage of Jace’s brief distraction. He flew toward my classmate and pinned him to the ground, clenching one hand around Jace’s throat. Jace struggled for about a minute, and then stopped. I found it odd the attacker paid absolutely no attention to me. Generally, psychos went for defenseless females, or so I’d thought.
I briefly considered calling 911; the attacker didn’t seem to care what I did. Jace, however, seemed to need more immediate help. Without considering the consequences of my actions, I sprinted forward and swung my heavy book bag at the man’s face. I hit him dead on, and he turned his attention to me for a second or two. His blood-red eyes bore into mine, and I recoiled in horror.
Apparently, I’d distracted the red-eyed man enough to cause him to release his death grip on my classmate. Jace scrambled away from his attacker, and leapt to his feet. They faced off once again. Jace, face screwed up in concentration, crouched low and sprang toward his enemy in a crouching roll. The attacker bared his teeth and leapt out of the way effortlessly. Red-eyes certainly seemed to have the advantage in the battle. In fear and disbelief, I watched as he formed a ball of fire in the palm of his hand and hurled it at Jace. My classmate put his hands up, palms facing outward, and the fireball sizzled into nothing.
Jace disappeared and abruptly reappeared in a spot behind the attacker. With supernatural speed, he jumped at the man and hooked his arm around his neck. He wrenched the man’s head to the side, and Red-eyes slumped to the ground. Jace wiped at the sweat on his face with the back of his hand, and then kicked the man viciously in the ribs. He reared back to kick again, but stopped when he saw me.
We stared at each other for a moment. Jace walked over to me and asked, “Are you okay?” I nodded. “We need to get out of here in case there are more of them,” he said, gesturing toward the lifeless body on the ground a few feet away from us. I flinched. Jace walked back and forth through the tall grass, scrutinizing the area closely. He bent down and picked up a textbook.
I contemplated running back toward the school and screaming for help, but I couldn’t seem to propel myself forward. I stood rooted to the spot, my legs trembling, as I fought back a bout of nausea.
“Let’s go,” Jace said in my direction. When I didn’t move, he walked over to me and took my hand. I pulled it away. “Come on, Alisa. You’re safe with me. I promise. Let’s go back to my house, and I’ll explain everything to you when we get there.” Through my haze of shock, I felt a brief sense of elation that he even knew my name. He lifted my book bag from the ground and began walking away.
Staring at my book bag dangling from his shoulder, I irrationally wondered whether or not it was a crime weapon and if my limited participation made me an accomplice to a murder. I questioned the wisdom of not having called the police.
“Should I call 911?” I asked stupidly. “I’m sure you won’t be in trouble. He attacked you first. I’m a witness.”
He turned back to look at me. “Alisa, that thing back there isn’t dead. You can’t kill a Hunter that easily. He’s just stunned. There could be more of them, so we should really get out of here.” My choice was follow Jace, this guy I didn’t really know, or stay in the field with the dangerous red-eyed man. I followed Jace.
I sat alone at the back of the lunchroom and picked at the unrecognizable food on my lunch tray. A sudden wind lifted the wisps of hair at the nape of my neck, and in an instant, the hottest guy in our school pulled up a chair to sit next to me.
“What are you doing here?” I blurted, gaping at Jace.
“Do you mind if I sit next to you?” he asked, gesturing at the four empty chairs grouped around the table where we sat.
“You don’t have to,” I said.
“That’s good to know. What is this crap?” The fact that he couldn’t identify the food before him didn’t seem to dampen his appetite. He shoved forkfuls into his mouth, and I cringed as he devoured the mystery meat. Jace chatted in between bites as if it were perfectly normal to be sitting there with me. I felt like I should tell him he was off the hook—that he didn’t have to pretend to like me just because he thought I’d saved his life.
“Hey, aren’t you eating?” he asked. I shook my head, and he attacked my food with gusto. “My brother and I will pick you up for dinner tonight.”
I shivered as I recalled Bryce’s penetrating, cold stare. “I can walk. I like walking.”
“Yeah, but still. It may not be safe,” he insisted, glancing around the cafeteria to make sure no one was watching. They were. Everyone was staring. Jace leaned in closer, and I shivered. “You need protection.”
“Your brother said I’m not the one they’re looking for. What does that mean?” I asked, shocking myself. Ordinarily, I let others ask the questions, but my curiosity couldn’t be contained.
“Shhh. We’ll talk about it later. So, do you want to come over right after school?”
“I don’t know if I can. I mean, I didn’t ask…” I stammered. “My mom’s picking me up today…”
“Just make sure she lets you come over tonight.” His smile stole my breath away and I nodded in agreement. “Let me know if you need help convincing her, because I can be very persuasive,” he claimed. I blushed and glanced away. I imagined he could persuade me to do nearly anything.
Jace continued eating and talking to me as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He didn’t act martyred or uncomfortable. I briefly entertained the idea that perhaps Jace actually saw me as a real person. I’d barely said a word to him, and yet he continued an almost one-sided conversation until the bell rang.
As I scurried nervously from the lunchroom, Jace finished up the last couple of morsels of food on my tray. “Hey, Alisa,” Jace practically shouted across the still full lunchroom. “I’ll see you tonight.”
I nodded to indicate I’d heard him, and then made my hasty retreat. I was painfully aware that half the school was watching me as I rushed to my next class. If he continued to associate with me, he’d better be prepared to join me in the cesspool of Cooper High gossip. I hoped he wouldn’t choose his budding popularity over our newly established friendship. I was tired of being alone.
Scrumptious, no? If liked these excerpts, but sure to check out the book in full! I’ve personally read and enjoyed this book, and it’s on my favorite book shelf at home. You won’t be disappointed! (And be sure to look out for the new and improved cover, too!)
The Claiming Words
by Tricia Drammeh
Available at these online retailers!