Monday, January 21, 2008

Book News, Yvonne Walus, an Excerpt from Static

Free ClipartNews & Networking

It's been an absolute incredible month! The contract's official - I can now announce the publisher for BoneSong and Relic: Drollerie Press. Red Rose Publishing also signed Of Dragons and Emerald City this month, and All Romance eBooks contracted a short story called Cut and Polish.


Only BloodWorks is waiting in the works. If I have any time left, I'd like to get Art & Soul, Artifact, and Sqweams rewritten and out to publishers this month, but the month is going quickly...

WIP: my haunted house story is sitting at 38,400 words, and I only plan on bringing it up to just over 50K. You'd think I'd be able to just whip that out, wouldn't ya? It's going veeeerrry slowly.

Other things: I have interviews this week on both Crystal Adkins' new interview site, and the Fallen Angels Review Blog (scroll down until you find my work). The FAR blog has numerous excerpts from my books, so if you'd like a sample of my writing, please pop over there in thanks to Cindy for doing such a nice job. Crystal is also working hard to develop her two sites (interview and review), so please consider paying her a visit.

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Friends of Note: Yvonne Eve Walus has made the grade! She's one of the Amazon Finalists. A bit about her, and her book, Substitute Wives (in Yvonne's own words):

"I'm one of those women who are unable to have one night stands. Sex is a very intimate thing for me. So the idea of selling it to strangers has always puzzled me: what circumstances would make a woman go through with it on a regular basis? That's how "Substitute wives" was born, a literary novel that claims marriage is prostitution dressed up.

Joy is a twenty-three year old sex worker who has over a million dollars of inherited money in her bank account. She donates all her earnings to charity, goes to church and is counting the days she has left as a sex worker before she can return home to reconcile with her family. When a married client declares his love for her, Joy tries to let him down gently, and falls for his clichés in the process. Joy’s friend and co-worker, Caro, refuses to take her stalker seriously, even though she knows that her past is bound to catch up with her and endanger the safe haven Caro has created for her daughter.

Theirs is not the world of drugs or pimps or backstreet quickies. They charge top dollar, they are in control of their lives and of the choices they’ve made and they realise that the glitter that surrounds them is only skin-deep.

Based in Auckland, New Zealand, the book delivers emotional punch by telling the story of everyday ever-important relationships: between a father and a daughter, between a daughter and a mother, between husbands and wives and substitute wives.

You can find my entry on via the following link: " Please consider visiting Yvonne's entry and voting. Every opinion counts!



Tempter (I may want to stick this in a book some time): functional Magnetic Resonance Imaging scans indicate that culture has a physiological impact on the brain, that can be seen in brain activity patterns. Culture has long been thought to affect development in terms of eating patterns, environmental influences, and tastes, but it can now be seen to affect perspective and judgment. Alterations to brain activity occur in exposure to other cultures for as little as six months. Read more. Sounds like an excellent reason to travel, and definitely contradicts the "old dogs can't learn new tricks". It may never be too late to change our outlook!

Save Your World: learn and donate at the same time. Free rice is donated for every correct word. I LOVE this charity!

Now, an excerpt from one of my books - Static, methinks. Enjoy!

Today he’d found a path he’d never taken before—and he’d already promised himself he’d never take it again. Nature had been communing with him big time. He’d been tramping for less than two hours when the skies suddenly opened. Rain and hail—and they were coming down so hard it hurt. Nate was soaked before he could drag his rain gear out of his bag.
Good thing Aje isn’t here, Nate thought. I’d never hear the end of this…
I probably won’t, anyway. Aje, despite his protestations, would have half an ear tuned on the weather report.
Nate had never expected him or Brandon to come along. It was just a way of covering his ass, without sacrificing his pride. Brandon always insisted he needed to tell someone when he was going hiking on his own, and Aje had been adamant about it since that ledge goof-up. So, he’d tell them, they’d give him a hard time, and that was that. Except he’d always get a call on Sunday—just in case. In Aje’s words, “If I have to save your stupid hide, I want to know before I make other plans.”
Nate’s thoughts were interrupted by a loud rumble, and a flash of brilliant white, that lit up half the sky. Lightning!
No! It was the thing that terrified him more than anything else. The thing that sometimes invaded his dreams. There was probably some name for it—for this kind of irrational terror, but right now, he didn’t know—or care. The lightning was coming—heading his way.
A burst of adrenaline shot through him and he started to run, slipping and sliding in the muck and leaves. Panicked, he ran off the trail, heading toward an overhanging knob of rock.
Solid. Safe. It can’t get me there.
It’s okay, Leighton. You’ll make it…
Only, he wouldn’t. It was at his back, watching him ominously from the skies, and it was going to get him.
There was a tingling in his shoulder blades.
It was going to stab him, right in the back.
He’d never told anyone. How, when a lightning storm came, he’d hide behind the door, or in a closet. Deep in his house, or burrowed beneath the desk in his office.
His mother had said he’d been struck once, when he was little. A baby. He didn’t remember it, but some part of him did. He’d been running from the stuff ever since.
It was coming. His hair was standing on end and his gooseflesh was doing a shivery dance. The pressure in the air was so thick he couldn’t breathe…
The next moment, his world exploded, and was gone—in a massive blast of overwhelming white.


ND Melody

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