Wednesday, April 10, 2013

Book Bomb to Help Teenage Boy

Today, there's a Book Bomb going on--people buying a book from author Dave Farland, whose son, Ben, was in a bad accident and is currently in the hospital. The family doesn't have insurance, and hospital fees are expected to rise above a million dollars. And so the Book Bomb is to raise money for Ben's treatment.

Donna K. Weaver has a whole blog post about the book, where you can buy it, and how you can just donate if you want to do that instead, so I'm going to send you over to her blog if you want more information. You can check that out here: Help Ben Wolverton

Friday, April 5, 2013

Rising Book 1: Resistance - now on sale!

With the recent release of Rising Book 2: Rebellion, Rising Book 1: Resistance is now on sale for a limited time at Amazon and Barnes and Noble. You can purchase a copy for only $0.99, so if you want a fantasy book to read, now's a great time to purchase it. The series is only two books long, so it is complete now. :)

Rising Book 1: Resistance for Kindle

Rising Book 1: Resistance for Nook


Need a little more info on the book? I'll post the back blurb and first chapter below, or you can always read the first few chapters in the ebook samples on the website. :)



Blurb:

All Alphonse wants is a quiet summer at home before his final months at university. What he gets is a half-dead stranger on his doorstep and the task of delivering a package to the leader of his home country. Not long after he boards a train toward the capital, he's attacked by knights, elite soldiers of the neighboring king.

Alphonse is temporarily rescued by Mairwyn, a mechanic with a haunted past and a deep hatred of knights. Together, they attempt to carry out Alphonse's urgent errand, only to learn that if they fail, countless people will die.

And even if they succeed, they may not be able to prevent the war that lurks on the horizon.

(Book 1 of 2)


First Chapter:


Chapter One


Alphonse hadn't spent time imagining what his homecoming would be like, but if he had, it wouldn't have involved being chased by a herd of angry cows. To be fair to the cows, he had cut through their field. Had he known it was occupied by such easily enraged animals, he wouldn't have climbed the fence.

Oh, Alphonse, he could almost hear his mother sigh, didn't you stop to ask yourself why there was a fence?

He'd noticed that Miller Stovkin had built a fence at some point in the two years he'd been gone, but since he had crossed through this field for most of his life, it had seemed of little importance.

It was now, however, very important as he tore across the field, his cloak flapping behind him and his travel bag banging painfully against his leg. The weight of all his books slowed him down, and the crashing noise of the cattle pursuing him grew louder as they gained on him.

The nearest place of safety was a large tree jutting out of the field like a finger pointing at the sky. Alphonse clambered up onto the lowest branch faster than he had ever climbed anything.

Fortunately, this ended the cows' pursuit, although Alphonse half expected one particularly irate-looking cow to ram into the tree just out of spite.

Unfortunately, in his haste to get off the ground, his bag caught on a sharp little branch. With a loud ripping noise, the seam split open and dumped out all of his belongings.

Dismayed, Alphonse watched as his books, clothes, food, and a few other items hit the ground. Loose parchment slowly bounced across the field in the light breeze. The books opened at odd angles, bending some of the pages. Alphonse groaned loudly when one of them landed right in a pile of cow dung. The cows all stood around nonchalantly, as though he no longer warranted their attention, except for that one cow Alphonse swore was glaring at him.

His eyes swept the ground, frantically looking for one book in particular. He spotted it resting against the base of the tree. "No! Bad cow! Shoo!" Alphonse waved at the cow that was now attempting to chew on one of his books. "That's not food! What kind of demented cattle are you? Why don't you act like the Banders' cows? They never chased me and tried to eat my books!"

The cow, at least, agreed that his book was inedible and rambled over to munch on some grass. Alphonse's gaze moved back to his most treasured book. It was very old and worn, as it had belonged to his father and had been read countless times over the years.

Welcome home, Alphonse. Stuck in a tree less than a mile from home. Way to go. If only he had told his mother he would be arriving a day early, she would have been there to meet him at the train station and he might have avoided this. Instead, he had decided to surprise her.

Alphonse narrowed his eyes and gauged the distance between the branch he was clinging to and his favorite book below. He might be able to reach it. He shifted on the tree branch, hooked his knees around it, and carefully leaned backward until he was hanging upside down. His glasses slipped off his nose and dropped to the ground before he had time to realize they were falling.

"Great. Just great." His vision was so blurred that he could make out nothing in front of him except a fuzzy, green and brown smear of the dirt and grass. He blindly reached out and his fingertip scraped his glasses, but they were just out of reach. And he couldn't even see if the cows were getting angry with him for dangling in front of them.

"Hey! Who's in my field? You'd best not be trying to steal my berries!"

Though Alphonse hadn't heard that gruff voice in a couple of years, it was unmistakable. "Mr. Stovkin!" he called, relieved. "It's me, Alphonse Redding!"

The sound of whirring mecha met his ears, followed by guffawing. A blur of brown moved into Alphonse's vision, and Miller Stovkin's amused voice came from right in front of him. "Alphonse? Why in the blazes are you hanging upside down from my tree?"

Alphonse's head was beginning to hurt from all of the blood rushing into it. "Mr. Stovkin, do you, um, see my glasses there?" With the turn his afternoon had taken, it was almost inevitable that Mr. Stovkin was going to step on them.

"These?"

Alphonse's glasses were pressed into his hand, and he put them back on, holding them firmly in place with one hand. Mr. Stovkin came into sharp focus. His hair was grayer and his brown face more wrinkled than Alphonse recalled. He wore a huge smirk half hidden by his bushy mustache. Carefully, so that he wouldn't again lose his glasses, Alphonse twisted and dropped down. His head spun and spots danced in front of his eyes as the blood flowed properly again.

The cow that had been glaring at him was gone, and the other cows were meandering innocently nearby, as though they were not at all responsible for sending him up a tree. Right beside Mr. Stovkin was his rusty old open-air vehicle, hovering several feet off the ground. The mecha looked as ancient as it had when Alphonse had last laid eyes on it, and part of him wondered how it was still holding up.

"I don't think your cows like me very much," Alphonse said as he picked up his father's old book. It didn't seem to have been damaged from its fall. Some of his other things, on the other hand…

He woefully eyed the book in the pile of manure.

"Ah, they just don't know you. Smart cows, these ones. 'Course, could be some of them know they're about to be turned into food and it's made them a mite ornery. Come on, stick your stuff in my HV. I'll give you a lift to your mom's place, if that's where you're headed."

"Thank you. I'd appreciate that." Alphonse used his ripped bag to pick up the book stuck in the manure and wrap it up carefully until he could get it home and clean it. He knew several of his classmates who would have squealed in disgust, but it was a perfectly good book, aside from being very dirty at the moment. He couldn't just abandon it to cow slobber and cloven hooves. He picked up the rest of his belongings and set them in the back of Mr. Stovkin's two-seater hover vehicle before climbing into the passenger seat.

Mr. Stovkin jumped up into the driver's seat, and then they were zooming off across the field, around the cows. "Your mother mentioned you were coming home for the summer. She's been terribly thrilled."

Alphonse clutched the side of the HV as Mr. Stovkin drove across his fields and out a gate. They soon went through a thin patch of trees, and Alphonse's family house came into sight. It was just as he remembered it—the stone house, the well outside, his mother's birdfeeders and birdbath and carefully tended flowers. He nearly choked on a sudden wave of homesickness. Oh, he had seen his mother when she'd come to the university to visit him during holidays, but there had always been something to keep him from coming home, even during his last summer vacation: an exciting project, a trip to the northern caves to study the newly found drawings within, a chance to study with a renowned visiting professor. Maybe he should have made time to come home sooner.

I'll be out of university in six months anyway, he thought as the HV pulled to a stop in his mother's backyard.

And then what? Would I come back here? There's the program that Professor Inkler has been talking about, and there's that research grant…

"Alphonse!" His mother's startled voice brought his attention to the back door. There she was, standing in a patchwork dress, a bandana tied around her mess of black curls. Her face lit up and she limped barefoot across the lawn as fast as she could to meet him. He jumped out of the HV and she wrapped him in a tight hug. She smelled like flowers and bread. Like home. She stepped back, her hands on his shoulders, and beamed up at him. Her apron was dusted with flour. "Oh, I'm so glad to see you! I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow!"

"I found your boy here hanging from a tree in my cow pasture." Mr. Stovkin sounded no less amused than he had when he'd first discovered Alphonse in the field.

Alphonse pulled all of his belongings out of the back of Mr. Stovkin's vehicle, setting the wrapped book on the ground until he could get something to clean the manure. "Thank you for the lift, Mr. Stovkin."

"My pleasure. It's good to see you." Mr. Stovkin drove off back through the woods.

Alphonse turned to see his mother picking up the bag-covered book. She wrinkled her nose and held it at arm's length. "Dare I ask why this smells like dung?"

Alphonse rubbed the back of his neck. "I had a bit of a mishap in Mr. Stovkin's cow pasture."

"Oh, Alphonse." His mother sighed, but her eyes were twinkling and she waved him toward the door. "Why don't you take your things to your room and change out of those travel clothes?"

Alphonse carried his belongings into the house. The kitchen was the same, with its old wooden table and benches, dried flowers and herbs, and a counter that was currently covered in flour and dough. His feet found the familiar grooves in the well-worn stone floor as he walked toward his old bedroom. His mother hadn't changed anything inside of it in the past two years, though the lack of dust indicated she had kept it tidy for him. He set his armload of stuff on his bed and turned in a slow circle, taking in the desk, the bookshelf, all of the encyclopedias, old projects, and papers he had left behind. The model HV his father had helped him build when he was seven still hung from the ceiling.

Alphonse turned back to his bed and changed into the extra set of clothes he had packed. He went back out to the kitchen to discover that his mother had cleaned off the manure-covered volume and set it to dry.

"Mom, you didn't have to do that!"

"It was no trouble at all," she replied cheerfully. She rolled out the dough on the counter and nodded toward the table. "Sit down and talk to me." She had set out a plate of cheese and fruit, along with a cup of water. She began to make the dough into biscuits as he thanked her and downed the water. "How has school been? How are your friends?" His mother looked over at him and he saw the mischief in her eyes when she innocently asked, "I don't suppose you've become attached to any of those lovely young ladies I met last time I was there?"

Alphonse groaned. "Mom."

"I have to ask these things. You're my only child. How else am I going to know when to expect grandchildren?"

"Is there a polite way to tell you that having children is the very last thing on my mind?"

His mother laughed. "I don't think you need to tell me that." Still, he thought she looked a little wistful. More than that, it struck him that she looked lonely, and it made him feel worse that he hadn't been home sooner.

Later that night, as Alphonse was finishing organizing his belongings from the summer and preparing for bed, his mother poked into his room and picked up the only other outfit he had brought with him. "You didn't bring any more clothes home with you?"

Alphonse looked at her blankly. "I can only wear one set at a time, and if I had brought more, I wouldn't have had room for all my books."

"You sound just like your father," his mother said fondly. "The countless hours he would spend with his nose in his books, always talking about this artifact and that research paper." She gave him a tight hug. "Good night, Alphonse. I'm so glad to have you home."

"Good night, Mom."

She limped into her bedroom and closed the door, and Alphonse collapsed onto his bed. It was smaller than he recalled it being and his feet dangled off the end of it. He was too tired to care. He was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

The next thing he knew, he was falling out of bed, banging his head painfully on the wall. He tried to figure out where he was and what he was doing. It slowly dawned on him that he was sitting on the floor of his childhood bedroom and that someone was pounding on the front door.

He went into the hallway and found his mother coming out of her room, wrapping a robe around herself. Alphonse's brain finally jolted awake, but he still couldn't figure out why anyone would be banging on the door at this hour.

"Mrs. Redding! Mrs. Redding, are you home?" Though the male voice calling through the door was vaguely familiar, Alphonse couldn't quite place it. "Please be home! It's Nella!"

Alphonse pinpointed the voice. It was Bryce Derrin, one of his old classmates. Nella had been another classmate, and he recalled that the two had been very taken with each other during their school days.

Alphonse's mother's eyes widened and she ran to the front door to open it. "What's going on?"

Alphonse couldn't see Bryce with his mother blocking the doorway, but he was frantic when he answered. "She…she…she's leaking all over and she's in tremendous pain. It's time, I'm sure of it, and her mom's visiting her grandfather for the weekend…"

"Calm down, Bryce," Alphonse's mother said soothingly. "It's going to be just fine. I'll come right over. Is there anyone else there to help?"

"N-No, ma'am, you're the closest neighbor and I didn't want to leave Nella alone, but I didn't have any choice," Bryce replied.

"Wait right here. I need to get a few things." Alphonse's mother turned away from the door. "Alphonse, I want you to come with me. If nothing else, you can keep Bryce calm." She took him by the arm and pulled him into the kitchen, where she gathered a few jars of herbs.

"Um, why am I keeping Bryce calm?"

"Because it seems his wife is in labor."

Alphonse froze and his face slowly drained of color. "Wh-what? I can't…I mean, there's nothing I can do…" She expected him to go to a house where a woman—no, one of the girls he had grown up with—was having a baby? The very thought of it made his stomach swim nauseatingly.

"You can carry this." His mother shoved a stack of linens in his arms. "Now, if you please, Alphonse."

He certainly didn't please, but he numbly followed her back toward the door, where he got his first look at Bryce. He paced back and forth and twisted a straw hat around in his hands. He had once been taller than Alphonse, and was now half a head shorter. He looked momentarily startled when he saw Alphonse but managed a nod and a mumble that might have been a greeting.

When they reached Bryce's house and went inside, a very pregnant Nella was doubled over in the front room, groaning. Sweat rolled down her face and plastered her red hair to her cheeks. Alphonse took one look at her and turned to walk back out of the house. His mother grabbed his arm and halted him in his tracks.

"I need those linens and then I need you to sterilize a knife for me. Bryce, boil water. And do you have a heater?"

"Yes, Mrs. Redding."

"Get that out and turn it on, and bring it into the bedroom."

Alphonse's mother led Nella out of the room, presumably toward the bedroom, and Alphonse's legs became too weak to hold his weight. He collapsed into the nearest chair and stared at Bryce, wondering if he looked as pale as Bryce did.

At least Bryce was on his feet and moving as quickly as he could to follow Alphonse's mother's instructions. It would have been much handier if their small town had indoor plumbing like all of the major cities, universities, and even many other little towns, but Hale was behind on some things. Bryce ran outside to the well with a bucket in hand, leaving the door wide open. He returned shortly with water. In his haste to get it on the stove, he sloshed half of it on the floor and had to go back for more.

Alphonse was glued to the seat. He tried to stand up at one point, and then Nella screamed from the bedroom and he sank right back down again.

"So, um, Alphonse," Bryce stammered after he finally got the water heating up on the stove. "It's been a while. Back from university?" He dashed to a cupboard and pulled out a mecha heater, typically used for heating beds during the winter. He pushed a button on it to get it warming up.

"For the summer," Alphonse replied.

Another scream from the bedroom, and Alphonse had to resist the very strong urge cover his ears. Either that, or flee. Fleeing sounded like a very good option right then.

Knife. He was supposed to be sterilizing a knife and keeping Bryce calm. Right. Who was supposed to keep him calm so he could keep Bryce calm?

"Where do you keep your knives?"

By the time Alphonse had finished sterilizing the utensil, Bryce had disappeared into the bedroom, so Alphonse took the liberty to run out the door. He would have gone home, except he was afraid his mother would need him (he prayed she wouldn't), so he sat on the ground and leaned against the side of the house.

He cursed the misfortune that had brought him home right when a neighbor had decided to give birth. Not that any other time would have been any better, but if it had been another night, maybe Nella's mother would have been there so that he wouldn't have to be. If only he had waited until the next day, when he was supposed to come home, he could have been comfortably in his dorm room at the university.

Even being outside didn't drown out the noises Nella was making, and Alphonse tried to focus on something other than the sounds. Anything else. He ran through historical events, calming himself by going through names and dates. He would have thought going through the finer points in his country's history would have given him more than enough material to get through a baby's birth. Apparently this was going to take longer than he expected. When he had caught up to the present day in his mental history recollection, he jumped over to mathematical equations. Every time he dozed off, he was jolted awake by the sudden noises from inside.

By the time an infant's cries pierced the air, the sun was rising and Alphonse was ready to fall over—whether from exhaustion or relief that it had ended, he wasn't sure.

"Alphonse!" his mother called. "Alphonse, I need that knife!"

Alphonse dragged himself to his feet and ran into the house. He located the sterilized knife and took it to the bedroom door. When he knocked tentatively, his mother said, "You can come in. Meet our new neighbor."

Yes, because he wanted to see Nella for the first time in two years after he'd spent half the night listening to her labor pains. "I'd really prefer to stay out here."

The door opened and Alphonse's mother held out her hand for the knife. She looked exhausted, but there was both amusement and happiness on her face. "Very well. Thank you for staying close. You can—"

"Mrs. Redding?" Nella sounded equally exhausted and there was a sudden fear in her tone that made Alphonse's mother turn quickly, the knife in her hand pointed down.

This was the worst thing she could have done, for it gave Alphonse a wide view of the bedroom and the bloodied cloths and sheets. He got a glimpse of Nella on the bed, holding a baby whose umbilical cord hadn't yet been cut. Coupled with the sweat and blood smell wafting from the room, Alphonse's nausea and dizziness overwhelmed him and his vision went black. The next thing he knew, he was opening his eyes from the floor, his glasses pressed uncomfortably against his face.

"Alphonse, are you all right?" his mother asked.

"I'm…unnnghh…" Alphonse scooted backwards out of the bedroom. He must have only been out for a second or two, because the conversation within the bedroom continued as though he had not just fainted like a coward at the sight of blood.

Blood…

Alphonse pressed his face to his knees and decided maybe he should wait a moment before trying to stand up again. Though his mother might not know it yet, her chances of ever having a grandchild had just dropped to zero percent.

"What are these?" Nella asked. "These bumps on her back…is something wrong with her? Is my baby all right?"

There was a heavy silence, in which Alphonse imagined his mother to be examining the newborn. "Oh," his mother breathed. "Oh, Nella…these aren't bumps."

"Then what are they?" Bryce spoke this time, and he had more dread in his voice than fear, as though he already knew the answer and was afraid to say it.

His mother's reply was so quiet Alphonse almost didn't hear it. "They're wing buds."

Thursday, April 4, 2013

Today, Donna K. Weaver--one of the most wonderful, supportive, encouraging people I know--is unveiling the book cover for her awesome romance book, A Change of Plans, due out in June, and I'm one of the bloggers participating in her cover reveal.

So...

Ready?

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TADA!!!



Isn't it lovely??

If any of you don't know about Donna's book, here's a blurb and a great trailer to introduce you:

When Lyn sets off on her supposedly uncomplicated and unromantic cruise, she never dreams it will include pirates. All the 25-year-old, Colorado high school teacher wants to do is forget that her dead fiancĂ© was a cheating scumbag. Lyn plans a vacation diversion; fate provides Braedon, an intriguing surgeon. She finds herself drawn to him: his gentle humor, his love of music, and even his willingness to let her take him down during morning karate practices. Against the backdrop of the ship’s make-believe world and temporary friendships, her emotions come alive.

However, fear is an emotion, too. Unaware of the sensitive waters he's navigating, Braedon moves to take their relationship beyond friendship--on the very anniversary Lyn is on the cruise to forget. Lyn's painful memories are too powerful, and she runs from Braedon and what he has to offer.

Their confusing relationship is bad enough, but when the pair finds themselves on one of the cruise's snorkeling excursions in American Samoa things get worse. Paradise turns to piracy when their party is kidnapped and Lyn's fear of a fairytale turns grim. Now she must fight alongside the man she rejected, first for their freedom and then against storms, sharks, and shipwreck. 






You can add A Change of Plans to your Goodreads to-read list.

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Donna K. Weaver is a Navy brat who joined the Army and has lived in Asia and Europe. Because she sailed the Pacific three times as a child, she loves cruising and wishes she could accrue enough vacation time to do more of it with her husband.
At fifty, Donna decided to study karate and earned her black belt in Shorei Kempo.
After recording city council minutes for twenty years, Donna decided to write something a little longer and with a lot more emotion--and kissing.
Donna and her husband reside in Utah, they have six children and eight grandchildren who live all over the world.

Monday, April 1, 2013

"Without A Voice" by Lauren Ritz - Book Release!

I know a ton of you bloggers out there are busy tackling the first day of the A-Z blog challenge, and I wish you all the best! Have fun!!

Today, is also the release of Lauren Ritz's first novel, Without A Voice.



Don’t put yourself on the grid. No credit cards, new name, new city. Few friends, no family. 
Connections of any kind are a risk.
Five years ago Mae left Florida with just the clothes on her back, leaving an ex-boyfriend and all other relationships behind. Now Justin has caught up with her and she has a choice--sacrifice the life she's built, or have it destroyed.

You can purchase Without A Voice at the following places:

Lauren Ritz began writing at the age of six with a “journal entry” about aliens flying through her bedroom window and landing on her wall.  She tried to start earlier, but was handicapped by the fact that she couldn’t draw well enough.

Writing is her love and her lifelong obsession, taking up the majority of her time when she isn’t involved in other less compelling interests.  Gardening is her second love.

Visit her at: 

Her webpage
Twitter: @Laurenritz1
Facebook