A Grand Sale on Gilded Folly

It's a muggy and rainy day here in Auckland. Phew!

I was scrolling through my emails today, and found some posts from Terry Odell and Sharon Horton, some of my fellow Cerridwen Press authors. Apparently, CP is having a big sale at the moment.

I checked on my books, and sure enough, the paperback copies of Gilded Folly are less than the ebooks (only $3.50!). This is a scary - and funny - fantasy. Very suspenseful at times, too. I've posted 3 excerpts below.

I don't know how long this sale will last, so forgive me if it's run its course before you have a chance to get there.

Regards, and best wishes,

Norah/ND/Melody

Review

1 - "Fantastic imagery, suspenseful plot, tension to beat all tension, incites the reader to sit on the edge of the seat and read until the last letter, the last dot, until THE END. ND Hansen-Hill weaves a tale of the battle of good versus evil that seems so real the reader will look askance at his/her neighbor and wonder. ND does a great job balancing the story elements and creating a story worth reading. Unexpected statements are written and/or made throughout the whole story instilling humor and a bit of surprised delight. Great for the fantasy lover, the sci-fi lover, or even the romantic one. What can be more romantic than a woman being protected from an
assassin? Loved this story!" Reviewer: Lucille PRobinson

http://tjbook-list.blogspot.com/search/label/Authors%3A%20H

Excerpts

It was no longer dark, but Dacey was beginning to wish it were. A subsonic hum vibrated her eardrums and her teeth, the resonance rising into audible range, where it shook her body.

Like a microwave. The cooked scenario entered her head, but she wouldn’t let herself think it. It was enough of a prod, though, to get her moving. Her unseen adversaries weren’t entirely stationary. She would like to believe that was more mechanical action, too, like the hum, but the sounds were far too restless—like a multitude of boots grinding and crunching on gravel.

Alive. No inanimate pistons or gears. Claws and teeth, restlessly gnawing away at rock...

Stop it! Dacey swore right then that no matter what, she wouldn’t give up without a fight.

She ran for the steps—for where she hoped they’d be. You fell down them—landed on your knees.

Get it right, Girl...last chance...

The light was so startling she tripped over her feet and went sprawling. It wasn’t coming from the walls or the ceiling. It was coming from her skin.

Her own body was brightening the room, like a white shirt under black light.

The sight was so shocking Dacey froze. All kinds of thoughts were running through her head. She was so caught up in confusion, that she almost missed the movement.

The walls were losing integrity, as man-size pieces detached and dropped limply to the stone floor. Rustle-thud, rustle-thunk. Now, the pieces shivered and shook, then arose, finding their whole within the fallen tangle of limbs. Skeletally thin beings, with a near-human cast...

...arising out of rock.

Dacey backed away, and headed once more for the steps—only to find they’d beat her there.

They’ve been in the dark so long...

It was almost as though she could read their thoughts. Her light was a lure, to draw them in. They wanted light...and heat.

...but mostly, they wanted food.

Dacey opened her mouth and began to scream.

AND

Humans! he thought, with a sigh. It had been a long time since he’d made any distinction between himself and these others he called friend. Today, it seemed, he was destined to call attention to it, if he were to be of any help to Rom...or the woman.

At that moment, in the middle of Wick’s dire reflections, Fitz sat down in a chair, his eyes drooping. Wick held off maybe ten seconds, then slipped one foot out of bed, his toes touching the cold floor.

Fitz didn’t stir. Hopeful now, Wick passed a shaking hand over the top of the monitor, effectively silencing it. He was grinning triumphantly at his own success when he twisted his head, and met Fitz’ eyes.

Uh-oh...

Humans could be truly intimidating at times...

Fitz was so angry his face was set, in a way Wick had never seen before. It would appear that however determined Wick was to leave, Fitz was equally determined to keep him here.

Plikva!

When Fitz turned his back, to fiddle with the machine in a furious, frustrated, what-the-hell-did-you-do-to-it, I-refuse-to-look-at-you way, Wick decided it was time to make amends. He was undervaluing Fitz’ efforts—something he’d never intended.

I’m destined to cause trouble wherever I go...

Regretful now, Wick reached past Fitz and snapped his fingers. The monitor took up where it had left off.

Wick, for his part, was exhausted by the small effort. Shivering, he leaned back on the pillows, desperate to retain any dignity he had left.

Fitz was still refusing to look at him. He was watching the monitor angrily, adjusting it with stiff fingers, and ignoring Wick completely. It wasn’t until he noticed something in the readings, though, which alarmed him, that he hastily turned back, and grabbed a glass by the bed. “Drink,” he ordered sternly.

Vinegar water!

Wick was too weak to argue. He drank deeply, unable to control a shudder which started somewhere in his centre. “Th-Thank you, F-Fitz,” he whispered. “F-For everything.”

Fitz continued to watch both him and the monitors. “You’re a damn fool, Wick,” he grumbled, a note of concern in his voice that Wick was certain he must have misheard.

This human friend was more right than he knew. As Wick’s eyes drooped closed, he murmured mockingly, “Both a fool, and damned. There was never such a kavlklakt as I...”

AND

The idea sent a shudder down his spine.

A lone bat strayed through the low branches and Wick jumped. Any movement was suspect. Had something chased the bat from its perch? He squatted down, his back pressed against the coarse bark of a Monterey pine. The solidity of it gave him an illusion of safety. The night remained still, as though holding its breath.

Sucking in the sound and holding it hostage...

It was like a black hole in his surroundings: sucking in sound, and light, and life.

When the night quickened once more, and the insect chorus returned to clicked and chirped mating signals, Wick moved on, nesting his feet in the thick needle beds so he wouldn’t accidentally tread upon a branch.

He never saw It come. It was camouflaged in the nightsound clutter, which took him by surprise. The night suddenly darkened, and the stars were blotted out.

He was slammed back, against a tree. Slammed and pounded to centre the blood beneath the skin. Wick kicked and punched and pounded back, but he was blinded by smoke. It rose around him, while bony fingers raked at his clothes. His eyes ran, his lungs screamed, and a howl was choked off in his throat.

He was falling now, dimly aware of pine needles jabbing his skin. Awareness faded quickly, displaced by the lassitude which was filling him. He knew he should fight the feeling; knew what it signified, but all he wanted to do was sleep.

It was the Hambre Muerte, the Death Gorge.

No!

Tradition demanded he lie here and die now, grateful for the mercy of last-moment oblivion. It was the way these things were done...

No! Not here! Wick’s fingers were already growing numb. He gritted his teeth, forcing the digits to close on a pointed branch. Then he jabbed it, into the bony head. There was a satisfying crunch and thud.

The Mictlampa ripped back, with an audible slurp, its jagged teeth torn away from Wick’s muscle. Its moment was past, and instead of a wily predator, it was confused and disoriented—flailing and blind.

Tastes of a leech, and eating habits to match...

Wick lay there limply, worried about the demon’s reputation for persistence, and worrying more about its companions. Was it alone?

He recalled another sorry fact from his past. Micts never travel alone...

He wriggled his fingers, clenched his fists, bent his toes, and jiggled his limbs—determined to lose the lassitude. The blood scent would bring the others in.

No way! He crunched the bloodsucker with his foot, right in the face. The creature flopped back, writhing in agony, all the while making a low-pitched grunting sound.

Wick pushed himself up to a sitting position, grabbed another branch, and whopped the thing again.

The beast was knocked back, onto the pine needle carpet. Silent now, it did what tradition claimed: melted away, into the undergrowth. At least, Wick was sure that was what it had intended. Its actual disappearance looked a lot more like a wobbling retreat.

Wick sat there, in bloodied triumph, listening to the crunch and thud as it ran into branches, shrubs, trees. He wondered if, ten years ago, he would’ve had the balls to offer a challenge.

Too indoctrinated.

He savoured his victory a few minutes longer. That’s what he told himself, anyway, but himself knew he was actually waiting for his heart to stop that erratic flopping in his chest. He leaned back, impatient, but unwilling to risk his life on a quick escape.

If I pass out here, I’ll never get up again...

When the stars reappeared in the sky, he tugged himself up the rest of the way, using the trunk for support. Cursing and swearing, he staggered back the way he’d come.

http://www.jasminejade.com/pm-3140-223-gilded-folly.aspx

A Busy Year Behind...A Busier Year Ahead

I've written A LOT this year. I now have 8 publishers, and I've composed by 40th manuscript! This has been my year for novellas. I've decided they provide a wonderful opportunity to explore new genres. I'd like to write some SF/fantasy novellas later this year. So far, I've concentrated on romance and YA novellas.

I'm posting an excerpt from In Flames, which was published earlier this year. Scary romantic suspense. Enjoy!
Regards, and best wishes,
Norah/ND/Melody

EXCERPTS

Sophie opened the door, then stood, reluctant to enter. There was a smell, a scent in the air…

Cigarette smoke, fresh and pungent.

It might just as well have been sulfur and brimstone. Wherever Damian lingered…it was hot.

There was a small pile of ash on the floor, but no cigarette. She spotted a new mark on her dressing table—a charred circle.

Sophie lifted the silk skirting, and touched the hole with her fingertip.

A perfect circle.

Like a ring. At the end, when he feared losing her, he’d talked marriage. A lifetime of beatings and bliss.

She'd left him instead. Left him and moved on.

Damian had moved on, too—to the Hereafter.

A little defiantly, Sophie lifted her head. This room had meant so much to her. It had been her sanctuary, at a time when she had no longer needed saving. It had been proof of her resolve and good fortune—the sign that she no longer had to hide, that she was now self-sufficient and self-contained.

No longer.

Because this haven was no longer hers. If she’d needed a sign of usurped ownership, it was there in the burns marring her dresser, the holes in her clothes. Someone—or something—else owned it now.

With a shudder, she grabbed her purse, then dashed out and slammed the door behind her.

AND

She’d gone down maybe a dozen stairs, following always that acrid smoke smell, her keen sense of smell guiding her. She wound through a maze of tunnels and intersections, Ys, in the dark, arms flailing, trusting to stink and instinct—and all the while dreading what she would find at the end of it.

She had been right to dread. The incinerate glow leached out into the darkness, staining the corridor red and orange. She knew, when she felt the heat emanating from within, that she’d reached Hell.

It was hot and holed and cavernous, and inhabited by maybe a dozen robed figures. The wall lengths were broken by alcoves; flattened bottoms with rounded arches above. A New World solution to Old World catacombs. The roof was a giant rock chute, and the smoke churned, eddied and swirled upwards and out.

The center was an inferno—a stone altar alternately orange, yellow, blue, red, black. Flames licked it, dancing like the wood-coal which fed it. Dying wood which glowed with that peculiar animacy of searing orange and bred in the efforts of sweating men in motion. Their robes flapped and their hoods slipped, as they fought to sustain illusion in the face of toil. Crackle, snap, branches flung and logs thudding against the base. The searing heat made the scene wobble in waves of molten air, and already heated tempers flared to incandescence at the pyre's demands for fuel.

Sophie stood there blankly, wobbling on her feet, blood leaking down her legs. She looked from the altar to the arched crevices around the walls. The dancing orange light picked up the dull dark brown of carbonized bone.

Carbonizing bone.

She was seen…of course. By Damian and not-Damian. They were both there, but only one was hers. The other one, she decided later in her nightmares, had been present only to show her there was more than one demon in Hell.

Damian and not-Damian had hit her, kicked her, pounded her, again and again.

Smoke, fire, flames, corpses.

And the demons danced on.

AND

Sophie lost him in the smoke and steam. She screamed, choked on soot and swallowed water—then it was all gagging, paddling, churning her way through the wash. The surge was relentless, all troughs and waves, floating wood and falling stone. She was slammed against the wall and felt her shoulder give. Sophie shrieked and fought for air. “Marco!”

He had her. Marco grabbed her, and clung. She held onto him weakly, and opened her eyes to find he was smiling.

A death’s head grin. It was Gerald Beaumont.

“Sophie!” he cried, clawing at her head, her shoulders, climbing her like a bobbing tree. She was going under, down, when Marco snatched her out of Gerald’s grasp and flung him aside.

But Marco’s hold on her was tenuous, and Beaumont’s frantic antics cost him. Scratch, tear, rip, fling, but in the wildly swirling muddle, of dirt and bone, ash and wood, filthy foam and churning backwash, Sophie was jarred loose from Marco’s grasp once more, out of his reach. He heard her choked off “Marc-!” as she vanished beneath the rising waters.

http://www.lindenbayromance.com/product-inflames-144-149.html

AUTHOR WEBSITES: N. D. Hansen-Hill | Melody Knight

New Release - THE HOLLOWING

AUTHOR: N. D. Hansen-Hill
GENRE: Fantasy/Time Travel
PUBLISHER: Cerridwen Press
ISBN: 978-1-60202-061-0
RATING: PG

BLURB: Shawn Walsh's problems don't arise from his own troubled past but from someone else's. Fires, floods, battles, bone-rattling quakes — he's frequently an unwilling and horrified participant in events long gone. For when The Hollowing claims him, his present dissolves.

Unfortunately, his problems have everything to do with family and his rather questionable heritage — with a birthright he'd rather know nothing about. Lost and tossed about by destiny, trapped and extorted by those long deceased, he's tired of playing a victim.

And he refuses to give up hope. There is still a chance he'll be able to resolve his issues without dying, given the right place… And enough time.

BOOK LINK:>>http://www.cerridwenpress.com/productpage.asp?ISBN=9781419916465<<

AUTHOR WEBSITES: N. D. Hansen-Hill Melody Knight

EXCERPT:

Open the door.

But he couldn’t. His arm was rigid, his fingers clenched.

And he couldn’t make himself touch the knob.

Safe. Stay where you’re safe…

There was something waiting for him on the stairs. His impression of darkness—of The Hollowing—hadn’t been exaggerated. He stood there, shaking, and listened. Beyond the wooden partition the thick silence was giving way.

Breaking down the barriers.

Little whispers, small thuds, soft rustling cascades of movement.

Rats. Only rats.

Thuds and thunks. Rattles and clatters. And then a sound Shawn couldn’t attribute to anything else—the squeak and echo of a heavy tread on wood.

Someone was ascending the stairs.

Shawn was holding his breath so he could listen. He didn’t even realize it until his heart started throbbing in his ears. He stood there stiffly and listened to it coming.

The door’s unlocked. An invitation if ever there was one.

The knob was ice-cold beneath his fingers. The chill spread up his arm but he didn’t let it sway him. He squinted his eyes and yanked open the door.

The noise swept through him, carrying with it a rancid stink and a flurry of movement. He couldn’t see anything but darkness and there was noise all around him.

It was a fire. The crackling flames leapt up, roaring, popping, hissing. Screaming sizzles, mini explosions, whines of venting gas.

And then it was merely screams. Shouts that escalated to howls and shrieks. Terror. That’s what this was—terror. Old emotions, dredged up and waiting. The stink of must mingled with the rancid odor of burning hair. Shawn dropped to his knees, sick and sweating.

He fell down the stairs, hitting the landing with a gigantic crash. He couldn’t hear it though—couldn’t hear anything over the cacophony in his ears. In a half roll, half dive he splatted to the bottom floor and crawled, then pushed himself to his feet and staggered for the outer door.

It was closed. Locked. He yanked on the knob, fumbled with the lock but it wouldn’t give. He couldn’t get the hinges loose on the door. The pins were as tight as the lock. No way out.

He ran to the window and slammed the glass with a chair. Glass gave, bars didn’t. He rattled and shook and pounded.

Phone.

He yanked out his cell phone. It was dead.

Like me.

Around him the air seethed. It was transmitting itself to the furnishings. Chairs scraped, dust spiraled, papers flew.

Shawn barely noticed over the smoke pouring into his eyes.

There was only one way out. The upstairs room with its cool moonlight and empty spaces. Shawn flattened his hands over his ears, squinted his eyes and headed for the steps. His flesh was burning as he crawled, clambered and wriggled up the stairs.

At the top he slammed back the door and dove…

Onto a pyre of flame.

Of Dragons, Honor Due, Networking, News

News & Networking

It's been a busy week as usual. Of Dragons was released by Red Rose last Thursday, and it's been full on ever since. I have to admit I've learned a fair bit about promotion this week, and networking with other authors and author sites. Some of the romance sites, like Simply Romance , are extremely generous with both their time and their space. I finished the first round of edits on Gray Beginnings, and will be hastily contriving a suitable blurb. The edits for GlassWorks should be in the Inbox shortly, too. In a few minutes I'll be posting on Tales of the Trade. My blog post is due there today.

WIP & Other Things: Only a thousand words added this week to my "Nocturne Bites" effort, but I did submit a blurb for Art & Soul to the open call at Nocturne. This is a quick in effort, with decisions being made by April 16th. I love these mini subs and competitions because they spur me on either to try new genres or venues or to finish what I began months ago. The Nocturne "call" only lasts until the 8th, I believe, so it's time for a quick decision if you're a paranormal pennist.

A new, and quite exciting, Yahoo loop opened this week called "Paranormal Monday". Enthusiasm by authors, with excerpts being greeted enthusiastically by readers.

Oh, wrote an interesting poem this week entitled, "Fragile". I'm in the finals for the Poetry.com Editors' Choice competition, and to qualify, I needed another poem. It was the second poem for the week—the first being the one for Gray Beginnings. I was waxing poetic all over the place, LOL!

Authors of Note: Today's Author of Note/Publishing-Promotional Guru of Note is Jean Lauzier. Here's the info for Honor Due, from author D. H. Brown.  D. H.'s website is www.dhbrownbooks.com, and Jean is giving away away the rest of chapter one to anyone who requests it. 

 

The excerpt, of course:

 

Chapter 1

 

2230 hours — Saturday

 

It was a typical Saturday night at the Spring Tavern. Lots of locals playing pool, dancing to the jukebox, smoking and drinking beer. Jimmy poured a lot of it on weekends, and little during the week. Men who use axes and chainsaws don't do much drinking on work nights. Most of them start in the woods before 0400, so early to bed is the norm.

    Except for a knot of local Indians at one of the pool tables, it was a pretty white crowd. There were four fresh Coasties from the Coast Guard station up at Neah Bay, and other than that, I knew or had seen everyone else before. That's why the little wannabe shark slipping into my small pool stood out. When the door swung open and the kid sidled through, I knew I was going to have to kill him. How did I know? Why? Instinct and almost forty years experience. The why? He might look like a minnow now, but little fish grow up fast and are harder to swallow when they're full grown and think they're Great Whites.

    This was my isolated pond he'd swum into and I didn't intend to become the main course at anyone's table. Since I'm a carnivore, I tend to eat first and ask questions later. I may not have a high school diploma, but I've earned several doctorates in the killing arts. I prefer to be the predator than the prey.

    The kid was around twenty-five, six feet plus a bit, and maybe a slim 180, in a worked-out kind of way. His dark hair hadn't grown out enough to hide what had been a military buzz. He wore a supple, thigh-length black leather coat, unbuttoned, and by the way it was cut, I figured he was packing. Probably a large auto-loader of some type with a suppressor in a custom rig in the left armpit. He didn't look exactly comfortable wearing civvies.

    The way he moved told me this was someone who didn't feel threatened, and thought he could eat anyone in this puddle. I've been around somewhat longer and knew there were several in this crowd I wouldn't want to tangle with, on my best day. Guys who work with axes and chainsaws in the deep woods are very tough nuts, and will break your teeth if you bite on 'em wrong.

    I watched the kid's eyes travel slowly around the room and pass me by without a flicker of recognition. There was no reason he should know me on sight, although for him to be here, I knew an advance team had swept the area and put together a package on the lay of the land. That's the way it worked, so now I had to figure out if he was solo, or had backup out in the dark.

    He was giving off a nervous kind of energy. Not fear. Just a twitchiness. The way he put money on the bar and kept kind of shrugging his shoulders. Frustrated would be one way of putting it. Maybe a bit worried. I wondered what might cause a reaction like that from someone who probably wouldn't duck when the lead was flying. Interesting.

    I watched Jimmy behind the bar, wiping glasses. He wasn't acting any different. He was, however, two feet closer to the register than where the glasses were racked. That meant he was standing directly in front of the Government model .45 Auto he kept cocked and locked under the bar. Jimmy, I'd learned, knew when trouble walked into his place of business.

 

BUY LINK  

Teasers (interesting facts that might stir a story some day soon): Those shiny and reflective fish which so draw our eyes, and frequently take a starring role in our aquariums? A new study has determined that the unique shape of the skin's guanine crystals is what provides that intense reflectivity. This is an anti-predator camouflage response, for fish which swim near the water's surface. There's no point denying that these are flashy fish! I went to the zoo last weekend, and in the penguin enclosure, where wee penguins were swooping after their food, it was the food—flashy fish—which kept catching my eye! It should have been birds that fly underwater, instead! For more information, visit http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2008/01/080114100008.htm.  

Save Your World: Free rice (learn new words and donate rice as you do it! Always a favorite!) http://www.freerice.com/index.php

Excerpts: From Gilded Folly

                It was no longer dark, but Dacey was beginning to wish it were. A subsonic hum vibrated her eardrums and her teeth, the resonance rising into audible range, where it shook her body.

                Like a microwave. The cooked scenario entered her head, but she wouldn’t let herself think it. It was enough of a prod, though, to get her moving. Her unseen adversaries weren’t entirely stationary. She would like to believe that was more mechanical action, too, like the hum, but the sounds were far too restless"like a multitude of boots grinding and crunching on gravel.

                Alive. No inanimate pistons or gears. Claws and teeth, restlessly gnawing away at rock...

                Stop it! Dacey swore right then that no matter what, she wouldn’t give up without a fight.

                She ran for the steps"for where she hoped they’d be. You fell down them"landed on your knees.

                Get it right, Girl...last chance...

                The light was so startling she tripped over her feet and went sprawling. It wasn’t coming from the walls or the ceiling. It was coming from her skin.

                Her own body was brightening the room, like a white shirt under black light.

                The sight was so shocking Dacey froze. All kinds of thoughts were running through her head. She was so caught up in confusion, that she almost missed the movement.

                The walls were losing integrity, as man-size pieces detached and dropped limply to the stone floor. Rustle-thud, rustle-thunk. Now, the pieces shivered and shook, then arose, finding their whole within the fallen tangle of limbs. Skeletally thin beings, with a near-human cast...

                ...arising out of rock.

                Dacey backed away, and headed once more for the steps"only to find they’d beat her there.

                They’ve been in the dark so long...

                It was almost as though she could read their thoughts. Her light was a lure, to draw them in. They wanted light...and heat.

                ...but mostly, they wanted food.

                Dacey opened her mouth and began to scream.

 

www.NDHansen-Hill.com
www.MelodyKnight.com
www.myspace.com/ndmanuscripts
www.lulu.com/ndhansen-hill
Thanks to www.mikesfreegifs.com and www.wilsoninfo.com for the use of the animated gifs!

From Edits to Editorials

Valentine's Here, Valentine's There -
Our Valentine's Day was yesterday and we had heaps of fun. Dinner out last night, movies and candy afterwards. I seem to be content as long as I have something exciting to watch and something sweet between my lips. Love candy and ice cream and pie...

And cake frosting.

I finished my ghost story this week, and decided to name it "A Spirited Encounter". This is my first finished book for 2008, and I'm quite happy about it. I also finished a novella and want to get it re-written fairly quickly, so I can submit it to Nocturne's open submissions call. Definitely worth looking into if you're a writer, aspiring or established.

If you're seeking an agent, pop over to BookEnds this week, and pop in 100 words in the appropriate category. You never know what will transpire.

Cheers, and Happy, Happy!

WIP: From Haunted Houses to Haunted Mirrors

These are the themes of the two books I wrapped up this week: A Spirited Encounter and A Kiss for Luck. The latter is a novella than a book, but no matter. I wrote it in 4 days, so we'll see what I can do with it.

Other things: interviews and articles. I wrote a tongue-in-cheek article about my writing journal for Shelley Munro's blog, but there's a bit about my research on there, too, in the comments. Today, I participated in my weekly contribution to Tales of the Trade, which is a blog newly christened this week. With Red Rose Publishing, I've been hopping around like a mad thing, participating in promo. This is the most highly motivated group of authors I've ever met, and even though I've met some of them through other publishers, being with RRP works some kind of magic on us all. The action there never stops. I love it!

***

Tempter (I may want to stick this in a book some time): Fusion may be the answer to our energy future, but the issue has always been one of containment. Magnetic fields haven't been sufficient to maintain the fusion reaction in the lab, so even though the reaction can be induced, the energy can't be contained. It was found recently that plasma flows along magnetic field lines and will even fuse when joining with another field line—in space! The reconnection of our Earth's magnetic field lines may provide the key to dealing with fusion down here. To read more, visit: http://www.livescience.com/space/businesstechnology/080206-tw-magnetic-reconnection.html

Save Your World: FAQS about donating blood (I want to thank all of you personally! You saved my life! How many other lives can you save this year?) http://www.givelife2.org/donor/faq.asp

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

The woman stood quietly at the window, gazing unseeing at the day’s yellow glare. A sudden jolt stirred her from an unnatural stillness, and she turned away with a swift gasp of fear. “What next?” she wondered aloud.

Her dash from the room was halted by the recoiling of the cat, which cowered, hissing, near her feet.

The woman’s lips creased in a self-deprecating smile. “Damned cat,” she whispered, recalling yesterday’s words. “Which of us is damned now?”

The feline slunk away—hiding its tomcat’s boldness beneath spiky hair and flattened ears.

Angry with the cat’s reaction, the woman moved swiftly toward the far wall.

The cat—hidden now beneath a chair—dared a backwards glance, just in time to see the human figure drift through the solid plastered wood partition. He chased her departure with a bold yowl.

The walls echoed his cry, seeming to hold it for just a second too long. When it came back to his ears, the distorted wailing was no longer alone, but held the lonely misery of a human’s despairing sigh.

From Light Play

http://www.fictionwise.com/ebooks/eBook4094.htm

Cheers,

ND Melody

Thanks, www.mikesfreegifs.com,

http://www.wondercliparts.com/holidays/valentines_day/valentines_day_graphics.shtml

and www.wilsoninfo.com, for the animations!

A Visit with Lonnie Cruse, Book News, & Excerpts

This month has been one of the most thrilling in my writing career. Not only was In Flames released on January 1st, but that same day I received a contract offer for both Relic and BoneSong! Now, in the dozen days since, I've also been offered a contract for one of my Melody Knight titles, Of Dragons, and a contract for a short story for All Romance eBooks, Cut and Polish. The only one with a release date so far is Cut and Polish, which will go live March 14th.

I'll wait for all the contracts to arrive before I post the details here. Still...

Yay!

Author Friend: A Few Words from Lonnie Cruse, author of Fifty-Seven Heaven

"I began writing Fifty-Seven Heaven after hubby bought a '57 Chevy to restore and joined a car club. I wondered what would happen if a club member found a dead body in the trunk of a pristine, trophy winning car. Knowing how car club members feel about their babies, writing the book was great fun. I love my character Kitty because she's who I'd like to be when I grow up. Never mind that she's younger. She gets to do a lot of things I'd like to do, and a few I've
already done.

The setting for the first book which just came out in December is Metropolis, IL, the small town where I live. It's a fun place to live and write about. The next book, which is finished but not yet contracted
for, is set at a car show in Pigeon Forge, TN. I love that area and enjoyed spending time there again, even if only inside my head, writing the book. I'd had the idea for a long time, and even took pictures to inspire me on a visit. I'm writing the third book now, set in Metropolis again, where a new character is wreaking havoc on my lead characters, driving them to consider murdering her. Muwhahaha!

For more information, please check out my website:
http://www.lonniecruse.com/ and you'll find links to my blogs and websites where I hang out. http://www.lonniecruse.blogspot.com/ and
http://www.poesdeadlydaughters.com/)"

Thanks for this, Lonnie! Lonnie's one of my fellow Five Star authors.

***

Tempter (I may want to stick this in a book some time): CT scans are being used to study ancient tumours in dinosaur bones. Palaeontologists and med students are working together to gain a better understanding of tumour origins and growth patterns. Amazing!

Save Your World Stuff: If you're looking to give world-saving a "personal touch", why not your bone marrow to someone who needs it? Check to see whether you're compatible with a simple blood test. More info is available at The American Bone Marrow Donor Registry.

Now, an excerpt from one of mine - ErRatic, methinks. Enjoy!

Emma glanced blearily at the clock. Three a.m., and Studley obviously needed to go out. He was whimpering, deep in his throat, and his cold nose kept nudging her arm.

Damn dog! She reached out and gave the silky coat a pat. Zombie-like, she stumbled across the room, to the front door, and unfastened the lock. “Out!” she commanded, punctuating it with a squeaky yawn.

When she opened her eyes again, the man was standing on the grass, just off the porch.

It was a very small porch.

She slammed the door and locked it, then raced through the house. She kept picturing Him running, trying to beat her to the back door.

It’s locked. It’s got to be locked.

It was, but she didn’t feel any better. No one had any business standing there, on her property, at three in the morning. He was up to no good.

She ran for the kitchen and picked up a knife in one hand and the phone in the other. The knife shook in her frozen fingers. Not a good thing. He’ll use it on me.

He damn well better not try. Her shadowy reflection in the window glass was that of a madwoman, brandishing a blade. Her staccato movements glinted across the toaster face, and she jumped, slashing the air.

Hysteria burbled up, like an unwanted belch, before sense clunked in with a nearly audible jolt. Window. Nightlight. He’ll see me. Frantic, she dropped onto the floor, and punched in a fumbling “911”.

If he saw me, I hope he saw the knife, too.

She shouted into the phone, “There was—!”, realized she was shouting, and quickly hissed, “There was a man!”

Why the hell hadn’t Studley barked?! The damned dog had practically dumped her in the killer’s lap!

The Police Operator was offering instructions now, and Emma listened to them blankly. She’d just recalled something very pertinent to her case.

“N-Never mind,” she said, replacing the receiver with shaking hands.

A dream. It had to be a dream.

But it wasn’t and she knew it. It was what she’d tell them, though, when they asked.

She sat there, huddled, too scared to challenge the near-dark. Her eyes were already scrunched closed, but now she drew up her knees and buried her face in her arms.

Shielded. Safer.

Not really.

She couldn’t afford to move now, even if it meant lighting the house. She was too afraid of what she might see.

She nestled her head deeper, to block her ears.

Too afraid of what she might hear.

She hummed a little whimper, deep in her throat the way Studley had. Just enough noise to challenge any other whimpers in the room.

When they came with the squad car to check out her call, she’d have to get up—but not till then. Then, it’d be okay—maybe even safe.

Why hadn’t Studley barked? That one was easy—now that she’d remembered.

About Studley.

He’d been dead—for almost a week.

From ErRatic

Cheers,

NDMelody

Exciting news! GlassWorks signed by Red Rose!

Red Rose Publishing has signed my paranormal romance novel, GlassWorks. RRP is a new publisher for me, and from what I've heard, a very exciting one. They work hard on promotion, and have developed a good reputation. They are holding onto Of Dragons at the moment. I'm hopeful they'll be considering it soon. I'm still anxious to fulfill my 2007 resolution: get as many of my manuscripts contracted as possible! At this point, the only uncontracted novels are Of Dragons, Relic, BloodWorks, BoneSong, and Art & Soul (click on them for links to an excerpt). All are out with publishers, so cross your fingers that I hear about them soon.

That's all at the moment, save for an excerpt: this one's from In Trysts
Any fears Sophie’d had of ghosts and specters vanished in that instant. There was no time to feed the chain back out through the gate—no time for anything. Demon was taking a shortcut, across graves and stones. He was no respecter of persons, living or dead. “He’s coming—!” Sophie shouted. Silence was no longer an issue. Her ex couldn’t have heard her over his untuned bike.
But Peri did, and it penetrated. “He” was coming, and in her brain, in this place, it could mean only one person—Jake.
And he was going to catch her—here, robbing the dead. His dead—stealing from his family. All the protestations in the world and all the good intentions wouldn’t fix this if he found her here.
Peri stuffed the piece of bent iron she’d brought for the purpose into the bronze doors’ elaborate lock, and twisted it with a harsh grinding clatter. The light from the motorcycle was coming at an angle now, and they were very nearly exposed. Already, a lion’s head next to Sophie’s was pooling black and glaring white.
Sense clicked back in, it seemed, with the clicking of the lock. Peri heaved open the right-hand door, booted the packs inside, then shoved Sophie in after them. She darted inside, as the light cleared the corner. As she closed it firmly behind them, the straying light was slit, then glimmer, and finally, a ghostlike memory in the muffled darkness.

Best wishes,
ND | Melody

Chocolate ice cream for breakfast again!

If you're a novelist, looking for a September challenge, consider the Brava erotic novella contest. I've written 5000 words - only problem is, none of it is erotic (LOL!)! Sorry, but I consider that really funny.

I'm also working on a very chaste story, which I'm liking ever so much better. This is a YA novel in my Elf Chronicles, for a Random competition. If it's considered, great, but if not, I've got the next book in the Chronicles. I promised myself I'd write it this year anyway, so here goes.

I've finished Art & Soul, and it's heading off to a publisher either tomorrow or next week. Then, it's just BoneSong to rewrite, and the usual edits for my publishers. Yay!

Back to work. Fortified with chocolate ice cream, I shall prevail!

Cheers,
ND | Melody
Fictionwise

Busy times on the writing front...

I've been lucky enough to contract ErRatic to Five Star. I'm working on rewrites for them now, along with a rough first draft for Linden Bay Romance. LBR published by novel, In Trysts, 1 December 2006, and the sequel, In Flames, is the one I'm working on now. Phew!

I've begun painting again. I'll have one finished today, and it's really thrilling! I've been 'blocked' at the easel for months now, which may be because I've been too busy writing. One seems to rob the other, so perhaps both things come from the same side of the brain...and my brain gets a little tired sometimes!

I did a book trailer last week for a friend's website (www.janebeckenham.com). I don't know whether Jane has it posted yet, so here's the link: http://flash-movies.toufee.com/mov/36371169692268 . I did one first for In Trysts, which is very dark and mysterious. Other than the fact that they haven't any sound (as yet), I'm rather proud of these first attempts (In Trysts is at http://flash-movies.toufee.com/mov/32861168994619).

I'm not posting excerpts today - too busy. You can always find them at my websites, though. I have over 20 excerpts at www.NDHansen-Hill.com, including a few rough chapters from ErRatic, and In Trysts is over at http://MelodyKnight.com. Be warned that the In Trysts excerpt is R17!

Cheers and best wishes,
ND/Melody