Summer Crush, a YA multi-author anthology

Summer Crush
A Multi-author YA anthology
Sasha Hibbs * S.D. Wasley * Melissa Frost * Diana Stager * Deanna Dee * Bridie Hall

Summer Crush: A wonderfully romantic boxed set of Upper YA short stories by today's hottest authors.
Summer is the time for lazy days at the beach, sun-kissed hair, flip-flops, and sizzling nights with a new crush. Those stolen glances and first kisses can quickly spark a flame. However, the road to love isn’t always a smooth ride.
Every Summer has a story, whether it’s a second chance on love, seeing a friend in a different light, or taking a step in a new direction with someone special. Love and long days create endless possibilities, but can a summer crush really last?
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About the Stories:

Sutton Summer by Sasha Hibbs After breaking Dylan’s heart last year, McKenzie returns to Sutton Lake for another summer. McKenzie realizes love was in front of her the entire time, but is it too late for Dylan to forgive her?

Exquisite Torture by S. D. Wasley Stuck at his Gran’s house in a deadbeat town for the entire summer, things suddenly don’t seem so bad when 16 year old Ryan meets gorgeous Connie. But why is she so cagey about where she lives? Is there something more to Connie than he first thought?

Forbidden by Melissa Frost The new guy in town has a bad reputation and a bad boy demeanor to go with it. Even so, Olivia can’t help feeling drawn to Gavin. Can she convince her mother he’s not the delinquent everyone believes, or will his past tear them apart?

Borderline Love by Deanna Dee Nearly drowning wasn’t part of Dalya’s vacation plans. Neither was being rescued by a guy with a perfect six pack and a haunted look in his eyes. Mason reminds Dalya too much of her over- protective older brother, but when he offers to teach her to surf, she can’t say no. Can Dalya get past her frustration with her brother to realize how much Mason means to her?

An Ocean of Their Own by Bridie Hall Lola spends her days trawling the sand dunes in search of the perfect subject for her art. She finds it in a solitary, beautiful girl. Sarah doesn’t just fill the pages in her sketchbook, she enchants Lola’s heart too. But how can Lola tell her family about Sarah?

About the authors

Sasha Hibbs is a nurse living in mountainous West Virginia with her husband, two daughters, and lives in her own imaginary world where she’s plotting her next story.

Diana Stager is a teacher who writes in her spare time and lives with her husband and kids in Ontario, Canada.

Deanna Dee is a full-time writer living in sunny North Carolina, where she takes full advantage of the beach whenever she can.

S.D. Wasley is an author, copywriter and daydreamer living in Western Australia where she wrangles chickens, cats, dogs and children on a daily basis.

Melissa Frost is a young adult author who lives near Pittsburgh PA with her husband, their son Marshall, and their soon to be daughter Adalynn.

Bridie Hall is a translator and editor who spends every free minute writing and reading.

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The Plate Spinner Chronicles by Barbara Valentin

The Plate Spinner Chronicles
An Assignment: Romance Nonfiction Collection

Barbara Valentin
Gemma Halliday Publishing
108 pages/Non-fiction/Mom Humor

What working parent hasn't considered delivering a performance review to their child prior to granting a salary, er, allowance increase?
The Plate Spinner Chronicles: A Working Mother's Epic Adventure is a hybrid memoir/how-to guide that is stuffed with multi-tasking advice and relevant, but nostalgic anecdotes, all written in the wry tone of a harried working mother who'd rather laugh than cry over the length of her to-do list.
This book is a compilation of The Plate Spinner columns which originally ran in the Chicago Tribune.
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Barb is a freelance writer, over-scheduled parent, and connoisseur of fine chocolate. A second-generation journalist, her work has appeared in the Chicago Tribune and its affiliates. The exploits of her five boys provided fodder for her column, The Plate Spinner Chronicles, a long-running feature in the Chicago Tribune, which snagged her a runner-up spot in an Erma Bombeck Humor Contest. A member of RWA's Windy City chapter, she still dreams of the day when her to-do list includes "Send NY Times book critic thank you note" and "Accept Godiva's request to be a taste-tester."
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Blank Canvas by Mere Joyce

Evernight Teen Publishing
@50K ~ Romance/Suspense/Contemporary

Three years ago, sixteen-year-old Maddie Deacon was abducted on her way home from her school’s Art Showcase. Five months ago, she escaped the madman she calls The Painter. Before being taken, painting was Maddie’s life. Now, it’s her nightmare.
Maddie wants to forget her years in captivity. She’d rather spend her time getting reacquainted with her parents and her sister, not to mention her cello-playing, beautiful boy next door and childhood best friend Wesley. But paint is everywhere, and tormenting shadows linger in every portrait she encounters.
When the yearly Art Showcase once again approaches, Maddie has the chance to win a scholarship and start planning a future far away from the horrors of her past. She knows she has to make a choice–confront her memories of The Painter and overcome her fear of the canvas, or give up painting forever.
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Character Interview with Autumn Deacon
Autumn Deacon is Maddie’s younger sister. She is, in many ways, the opposite of her older sibling, but she plays a vital part in keeping Maddie together, even if she doesn’t know it (or at least doesn’t let it show).

1. Can you tell us a little about yourself?
Sure! I’m Autumn Deacon. I’m thirteen, in the eighth grade, and I like dance and yoga. Um, I have one older sister, Maddie. Three years ago she went missing...but she’s back now, which is perfect.

2. How did you feel when you discovered your sister had been found?
*Laughing* I didn’t believe it. Like, it’s funny. Until that moment, and after that moment, I always believed she was going to come back. But in that instant, I didn’t. I couldn’t believe it until I saw her in the hospital. I thought they’d got the wrong girl.

3. Your sister used to paint. Have you ever been interested in art?
Oh, no. Maddie’s the artist in the family. I can’t even draw a stick figure without messing something up. I guess I could learn, but I don’t really want to. It’s like, painting’s for her, you know? I have my own hobbies.

4. Can you tell us about those hobbies?
Well, like I said, I like dance and yoga. Fitness of any kind, really. I want to have my own fitness studio someday. There’s just something really great about breaking a sweat and moving till you’re exhausted and sore all over, you know?

5. What's your earliest memory of you and your sister?
I was four, I think? So Maddie would have been, like, seven. And she made me sit inside for an hour so she could paint my picture. I squirmed the entire time, and she yelled at me the entire time. But when she was done she told me it was beautiful, and for the rest of the day I felt like a princess.
She framed that painting, and it hung on her wall for years. She’s taken down all of her art now, but she still has that picture, somewhere.

6. Use ten words to describe yourself.
Ha! Just ten? Well, I’m Outgoing, and usually Excited. Wandering but not Lost (so...like Found?). Honest and Fun. Hyper, most of the time. Obnoxious, some of the time. Damaged all of the time, but Happy, too.

7. What's your idea of a perfect day?
My perfect day would be outside, in the sun, with lots and lots of activity. Yoga to start, then a run, some dance, and maybe a workout. I love the idea of only stopping to eat, and never worrying about cramps or dehydration. Endless energy, and a whole big group of people around to share it.

8. If you could have had your sister home for one single day during the length of her abduction, what would you have done?
I would have run. I would have taken her as far away as I could, so she wouldn’t have had to go back. We would have run all day, and then, even if she had magically disappeared at the end of it, at least I would have run off some of my worries while she was with me.

9. Is there anything deceiving about you? Something people would be surprised to know?
Some people think I’m conceited or self-centered or whatever, but I’m not. I talk a lot, and I change the subject in serious conversations. Not because I’m bored, but because I know when people are, like, going too far, you know? When it’s going to be too much, or when someone’s going to start a fight. I don’t like conflict, so I try really hard to avoid it. But not many people get that, and sometimes they think I don’t care.
I do.

10. We'll finish with an easy one. What is your favourite colour?
Yellow. Like the sun, like flowers, like smiley faces. Yellow is bright and alive, and I love that.

Excerpt:
“Hello, Maddie,” Tim says, taking a sip from his Healing Expressions coffee cup. I’m glad he and Juliet call me Maddie instead of Madison, like Klara does. I’ve gone by Maddie since my days in preschool, and being called it here makes the office seem slightly less institutional.
Of course, it doesn’t make this moment any less awful.
“H-hi,” I stammer, my voice thin. My feet ache as I force them across the threshold. Tim prefers it if I close the door behind me, but I need to see my escape route. Shakily, I cross the room and sit on the bench along the wall of windows that look down over the parking lot. The cushions are soft, bright orange, and there are pink and green and blue throw pillows scattered along the seat. I grab the blue one, and hug it to my chest as I stare at the world on the free side of the glass panes.
It’s a strange sensation, watching the world like this. In elementary school, at recess, I would sit by the fences backing the neighborhood houses. With my head tilted into the cool fall or warm spring breeze, I would close my eyes and picture the people in those houses: people not working, people working from home, people driving the streets or watering their lawns or relaxing in front of the TV, while I remained stuck at school for another several hours. I have the same thoughts now as I gaze over the parking lot, far out to the park, the townhouse complex, and the streets beyond. So many people sleeping, reading, shopping––all while I’m here, trapped behind a wall of glass.
It helps to keep my back to the easel. Slowly, the panic of my arrival subsides, and I take full gulping breaths until I’ve settled into muted unease.
“How are you feeling today, Maddie?” Tim asks. He remains seated. I get antsy if his six-foot-three inch body looms over me.
“I’m fine,” I lie. I’m never fine. Not anymore. But declaring it is like stating the obvious.
“How’s school?” I can hear a smile in his voice. I like Tim’s voice, with its deep, quietly enthusiastic tone. I’m fairly certain I like Tim, too. Or at least I would, if the circumstances were different. If he didn’t have the task of prying, of guiding me into frigid, infested waters every time we meet.
“It’s fine,” I say, shrugging my shoulders.
Tim’s chair scrapes across the floor as he stands. I keep my eyes fixed on the parking lot outside. I’ve found Wesley’s tiny van, and I watch it intently.
Tim approaches, sits on the bench a ways off. “Did you read any papers this week?”
“No.” The tension I nearly shed on the ride over here is creeping back again. I hate therapy. I don’t understand how digging into every unpleasant crevice of my subconscious is supposed to make my life easier.
“How about the news? Did you watch any?” Tim asks, even though I’m already shaking my head.
“Y-You know I didn’t,” I reply, and Tim breathes out, the resulting sound just short of a sigh.
“How many times have you had to avoid his picture?” he asks, and I squeeze the pillow until my fingers are white.
“S-Seventy … S-Seventy-two,” I choke out.
It’s become a habit keeping track of the number of times I stop myself from seeing him. When I go to the drugstore and see the papers lined in a hideous row. When the news comes on, and reporters rehash what happened.
In the beginning, it was far harder. There were articles all over, news stories, constant threats to my sanity. Five months on, most of my count comes from the personal attacks, the times I remember something, imagine something, and his face almost manages to push its way in.
“Good. An improvement on last week,” Tim says, the pleasing smoothness of his voice giving the achievement a more respectable air than it deserves. Last week there were seventy-eight occurrences. Having six fewer episodes means nothing, except Tim is trying to be as positive as possible.
Plus, there’s the phone call to consider. Last week might have been an improvement, but I’m certain my methods of diversion will fail to keep me from replaying the conversation I wasn’t supposed to hear this morning.

Mere Joyce lives in Ontario, Canada. As both a writer and a librarian, she understands the importance of reading, and the impact the right story can have. She is a member of the Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators, and holds a Masters of Library and Information Science from the University of Western Ontario.
When she’s not writing, reading, or recommending books, Mere likes to watch movies with her husband, play games with her son, go for walks with her dog, and drink lots of earl grey tea with orange chocolate on the side.
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Drawn by Chris Ledbetter‏

Drawn by Chris Ledbetter
YA Paranormal Interracial Romance
Released: June 5, 2015

Caught between the sweltering fall landscape of Wilmington, NC beaches and southern illusions and expectations, all sixteen year-old Cameron Shade thinks about is art. That, and for Farrah Spangled to view him as more than just a friend. Cameron longs to win her heart through art.
After several warm interactions with Farrah, including painting together at the beach, Cameron discovers just how complex Farrah’s life is with her boyfriend and her family. Following a tense run-in with Farrah’s father, she forbids Cameron to ever speak to her again, but Cameron’s convinced there’s more behind the request.
To impress Farrah with a last-ditch effort, Cameron sketches her portrait. But the sketchbook he uses hides a dark secret. Farrah’s now in grave danger because the sketch he drew of her siphons her real-life’s soul into the sketchbook. Cameron now has twenty days to extract Farrah. To save her, he must draw himself into the book.
If he fails… they both die.
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Excerpt

I slide into art class right before the bell tolls. I sit down and flip open my sketchpad. Today’s warm-up is retraining on shading properties. A sphere the size of a basketball, but with the color and texture of a Ping-Pong ball, sits on the front table with a desk lamp shining on it. I tighten my grip around the obsidian shaft of my graphite pencil and produce long sweeping arcs, punctuated with short scrawls on my sketch paper.
Our task is to draw four similar spheres and shade each one using a different technique: tonal, scumble, smudge, and crosshatch. Shading is the key to chiaroscuro, the interplay of light and dark in art. It’s how the artist turns flat, two-dimensional objects into three-dimensional beings.
With my hand whirring on the mundane warm-up activity, I shoot a glance toward Jameson Scott across the room. My mind drifts briefly to the online video game based on the U.S. Navy SEALs we’d played the previous night. We play DEVGRU: War On Terror, on a team with two guys who live in other cities––Charlottesville, VA and Charleston, SC. In gearing up for a tournament, we had a good run last night. Still amazes me that we can play on a team together and reside in three different places.
Jameson flashes me a DEVGRU-based hand signal. He motions his hands overhead in two sharp flicks forward, which basically tells me the equivalent of get your ass back to work. His large, seventies-style Afro bobs back and forth when he returns his attention to his work.
After the warm-up activity that I could’ve done in my sleep, Mr. Jaques stands at the front of the class in his signature slumped posture. “When beginning a work from scratch, as artists, we project images in our minds of what we wish to sketch, right?” He grabs a handful of his long, graying hippie hair, looking like he just stepped out of Woodstock. “In our minds, we view it clear as day. So why is it harder to draw an image from our minds than one on a physical plane before our eyes?”
No one answers. He walks between our drawing tables and continues, “The biggest hindrance is scale. We can see a picture in front of us and gauge it against its canvas, right? How far it is from the top, and sides, etc. The image in our minds has no direct, translatable scale. It changes and shifts… fog rolls in and out… lines blur, sharpen, and then haze again. It’s amorphous.”
God, but that man can ramble. I rest my chin in my hand and glance over at Jameson. He takes two fingers and points at his eyes and then to the teacher. He’s taking this DEVGRU team leader role a bit too far.
The Jaques monologue, or as we say, his sermon, continues. “The best of us can manage that internal image so that sketching from our minds is like copying from a physical picture. That’s why we work on shading, light against dark, as a means to convey substance and structure… in short, reality.”
I spin my pencil around my thumb, waiting for him to get to the end of this massive address. I should be used to it.
“All right, my little Van Gogh’s and Goghette’s, I have a challenge for you,” he says in his best British accent. Lord knows why he does this. He’s not British. “For the next twenty minutes of class, you are to recreate a picture that I will flash on the overhead for exactly five minutes. After that, you must recreate from memory. Whoever does the best shall receive a homework pass. Pencils at the ready.”
The wheels squeak as he rolls the overhead projector into place, and then turns out the light. Each student turns on his or her desk lamp. I think the strength in each bulb is something like three watts. Maybe two and a half. Mr. Jaques flips the switch and then a gorgeous picture of Taylor Swift pops up. She stands with her hands on her hips, sheathed in a black licorice-colored bandage dress. Two-thirds of her body is turned away and her hair is a waterfall of citron and goldenrod curls.

Author Interview
Hi Chris! Can you tell us a little about your latest book?
It’s about a boy who unwittingly endangers his crush’s life, and then must risk his own to save her.

What inspired you to write it?
Almost all stories that I write begin as a “what if?” The very first “what if” that occurred to me was what if drawings came to life? And then the rest of the story developed from there.

How did you come up with the idea for the cover?
I had sketched a few ideas about what I thought the cover could look like. But, I’m no digital artist. So I gave my ideas to Jay Aheer, a very talented artist. And she developed the gorgeous cover.

If it were made into a movie, whom would you like to play the main characters?
Hmmmm, good one. Maybe Jaden Smith for Cameron and Bella Thorne for Farrah. ☺

Is it part of a series or is it a stand-alone novel?
It stands alone nicely, but I am working on a sequel.

Where is the novel set and why did you choose to set it there?
The real world setting is Wilmington, NC. I live here, and wanted to write a story that I could hang my home city onto. The setting within the book is based on Italy circa the Renaissance. I chose that place and time because it was one of the most artistically creative periods in history.

What is it about this genre that appeals to you so much?
I love the transformative stories in YA. I love seeing my characters come through the fire and emerge stronger for it. Additionally, I think like a teenager most of the time, so it’s natural.

What made you want to become an author?
I just really enjoy the process of creating stories. It makes me feel alive.

How do you come up with character names?
The character names typically come to me after I inhabit their heads for a period of time. Cameron Shade came from two aspects. There is a Cameron Art Museum around the corner from me. Shade reflects his artistic nature as well as his skin tone. Farrah Spangled came from the fact that I wanted her to have a non-standard name. Spangled came from how Cameron views her.

Name one of your all-time favourite books?
Daughter of Smoke and Bone by Laini Taylor.

Where is your favourite place to write?
HAHA! At the beach, actually. But, I can sink into my worlds almost anywhere

What is your favourite movie that was based on a book?
Casino Royale

Name two of your favourite authors.
Kimberley G. Little and Martina Boone

Tell us a random fact about yourself.
I played bass drum in my college marching band.

Who would play you in the movie about your life?

photo credit: Cuba Gooding Junior via photopin (license)

HA! Cuba Godding Jr.

Tell us an interesting fact about where you live.
Wilmington, NC is nestled between the ocean and a river.

What are your (writing) plans for the future?
I’ll keep churning out stories and hopefully they’ll all be greeted favorably.

Tell us one thing that's on your bucket list.
Travelling to Italy.

Favourite myth / fairytale?
I lovvve ALL Greek myths. Choosing a favorite is akin to choosing a favourite child. (See what I did there? I used your spelling of favorite. Possibly British. Or perhaps Aussie). One of my favorites has to be the story of Jason and Medea. It’s passionate and disturbing at the same time.

Who/What did you want to be when you were a kid?I actually wanted to run a Fortune 500 company. Then I wanted to be an entrepreneur.

Christopher S. Ledbetter grew up in Durham, NC before moving to Charlottesville, VA in 11th grade. After graduating high school, he attended Hampton University, where he promptly joined the best marching band on the east coast, without having one shred of experience.
He taught high school and coached football for six years in Culpeper, VA. He enjoys the occasional Spartan Race, and is working toward a triathlon.
As a self-described, young reluctant reader, he writes young adult stories specifically to reach other reluctant readers. As a participant in the prestigious Nevada SCBWI Mentor Program, he was blessed to be mentored by Suzanne Morgan Williams, 2012 SCBWI member of the year.
He now lives in Wilmington, NC with his family.

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The Blackmail of Evelynn Faust by Shirley Anne Edwards

The Blackmail of Evelynn Faust
Shirley Anne Edwards
YA Contemporary w/Romantic Elements/73k

Evelynn Faust suffers from horrible insomnia and paranoia. The summer before her senior year of high school should be one of the best summers of her life. But she’s tormented by guilt and an addiction that haunts her every waking moment. Evelynn is a drug dealer who also craves the drug she sells. The money and the popularity that come with it aren’t bad either. But when she’s caught dealing on school property by Eric Wagner, the respected and admired police chief’s son, the game is over.

He won’t snitch on her, unless she gives him whatever he wants - her.

She’s being blackmailed.

Evelynn has no one to turn to for help. Not her parents who don’t understand her rebellious nature or her circle of friends who only care about partying and getting high. When Adam Tristen moves in across the street, and he wants to get to know her better, it all seems too good to be true.

She must make a pact with the devil.

Evelynn now looks over her shoulder wherever she goes, waiting for Eric to act on his threats. But Adam, the charming college sophomore, sees something special inside Evelynn, and he wants to help her fix mistakes. In order to do that she must confront a dark secret from her past that could destroy her family…her life…and her entire world as she knows it.

She must take a leap of faith.

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Excerpt

Sweat caked my body. I shook even as I held my cell between my ear and shoulder as I waited for Adam.

He remained on the line the entire time he drove, talking to me, keeping me sane. I didn’t tell him about Eric. It would be better to tell him to his face and hope he didn’t freak out.

The sounds of tires rolling over crushed gravel met my ears. A few moments later, his tall, beautiful dark-caramel body came into view, and I crawled out of my cubby hole. Adam rushed over to me and pulled me in his arms. He smelled so clean, as if he had just taken a shower. I didn’t even want to know how I smelled.

“Are you okay?” he asked, cupping my face.

I shook my head and burst in tears. He held me tight while I cried.

***

We sat in the back of his car near the old entrance where a brick shed stored sports equipment. We were all alone, surrounded by long grass, weeds, and broken concrete that hadn’t been paved in years since the main parking lot was used in the front. The car windows were down, letting a hot breeze in. Adam wanted to take me home, or to his house, but I told him no. I wasn’t sure what I would face there. So, we suffered from the heat, or rather I did. Adam didn’t seem to mind as he held me in his arms and whispered in my ear.

I wiped my swollen eyes, staring down at my lap. My wrists and arms were covered in red from my sunburn, including a rainbow of new colors.

“Someone hurt you. Tell me who did this to you.” He rubbed the pad of his finger over the inside of my wrist. His thumb grazed the side of my hand, sending a tingle up my arm. I wanted to feel the same on my whole body, to erase the aftermath of Eric’s abuse.

“Eric and I had a disagreement about something.”

“Evelynn,” Adam murmured. “What did he do to you?”

 He laid his palm on mine. The breeze whipped through the car. I closed my eyes, wishing I was lying on my bed in the cool darkness even with the annoying streetlamp shining through my bedroom window.

“He didn’t rape me if you’re wondering. I stopped him before he could. He found out about me and you, and he got very angry. He said awful things about you, and I flipped out on him. He-he…threw me on his kitchen table and almost—” I rubbed my face on his shoulder and inhaled his clean scent.

“You were at his house?”

I nodded. “I visited Tink’s earlier in the day to meet some friends. He saw me coming out from there, but I think he followed me. I was so stupid to think we could talk. He was being nice for a change. I went over to his house to have lunch, and he became mean.” I dropped my head in my hands and groaned. “I messed up big time, and I don’t know what to do.”

Adam rubbed his cheek over mine. “You can trust me. Tell me what’s going on.”

The moment of truth had arrived. I couldn’t lie anymore. “My cousin Jenn and her boyfriend were arrested yesterday on possession of drugs and selling them. They’re involved in a network of drug trafficking in the area where they sell not just to high schools but to the middle school and maybe younger. The reason I’ve been on and off with Eric is because he’s blackmailing me. He caught me dealing a few months ago in the parking lot of the high school. Unless I become his girlfriend, he’ll tell his father about me.” I shook my head. “I-I’m so dead.”

Adam stared out the window, pulling at his bottom lip. I scraped the side of my thumb nail where the skin was rough from all the biting and picking I’d done.

“It’s okay if you want to throw me out of your car and never speak to me again.”

He sighed, and I went to open my door. He drew me into his embrace. His mouth brushed the side of my neck, and he cursed, holding me until I turned my head and looked at him full in the face. Our noses almost touched. I pressed my palm on his head, enjoying his short curls and how they felt through my fingers as I tugged on them.

“No more lies between us. Okay?” He lifted his hand to my head, mimicking my touch.

“I promise you, no more lies. I’m all tapped out with my lies. I want to be more like you.”

“Like me?’ he asked, his breath a whisper on my mouth, a tangy scent I wanted to inhale.

“Yes. You’re everything I’m not. Honest, good, and sweet. You make me want to be a better person.”

“I think you’re sweet, but just misunderstood,” he replied.

“Misunderstood, huh? I’d rather just be sweet.” I moved closer, wrapping my leg around his waist until I almost sat on his lap.

He gasped and his mouth brushed mine. “Not quite good, but we’re working on it.”

That made me smile. He then gave me one in return and kissed me as I’d been dying for him to. He nipped my lips gently, prodding slowly, erasing Eric’s harsh kiss until I ended up panting, wanting even more of his kisses…his touch all over me.

“Hold me, please. I need you,” I whispered, sliding my hands beneath his shirt to feel his stomach and the muscles there that jumped under my circling fingers.

“I have you.” He sighed. “But we shouldn’t. You’ve been—”

“Hush.” I kissed him with a deep intensity and demanding hunger. “Don’t let me go. I feel clean when I’m with you.”

“I won’t let you go. Ever.” He pulled me against him, just like I wanted.

Straddling his hips, I locked my thighs around his until he moaned. His hands skated up my legs and higher until I gasped, dizzy and punchy as a tide of emotion brought happy tears to my eyes.

Shirley Anne Edwards is a Northeast girl who first found her love for books when she read Nancy Drew's The Secret of the Old Clock Tower at thirteen. Shirley found her love for writing at a very young age, and since then has let her imagination run wild by creating quirky characters and vast worlds in her head.
Shirley lives in New Jersey and works in the entertainment industry in New York City.
In the immortal words of Mark Twain: "Life is short, Break the Rules. Forgive quickly, Kiss SLOWLY. Love truly. Laugh uncontrollably and never regret ANYTHING that makes you smile."
For more information about Shirley and her writing journey, visit Website

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Maiden by C.L. Marin

I'm delighted to be showcasing Maiden by C.L. Marin. If you keep reading, you'll find a fun character interview and an excerpt from the book with the AWESOME cover! Enjoy :)
Evernight Teen Publishing
Paranormal/Romance/99k
Released March 6, 2015
Tomes of the Authentic Witch, 1

Tara secretly wished her estranged father would want her around, so when he unexpectedly contacted her, she agreed to get reacquainted. That wish turned into a nightmare. She learned that she is an Authentic Witch—the Maiden of the Moodus Coven—and the key to obliterating the black magic Haddam coven.
Tara’s mother took her into hiding when she was small in order to keep her alive but the Haddam’s found her. Now Tara must trust the help she’s found in her three close friends, one mystifying new love, and a father she barely knows as she fights for the life of her mother using a power she doesn’t yet understand.
And one of those trusts might cost Tara her life.
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Excerpt:
We walked up on a small, cinderblock building. There was a plaque on the door facing us with the silhouette of a woman in a dress painted on it. Isaac turned the handle back and forth firmly. It was locked. His teeth bore down and ground together loudly.
“I just can’t catch a break today,” he whispered into the night.
Unexpectedly, and with unrealistic strength, he kicked the door in. Never before had I seen a blow delivered with such force. The hollow metal door fired open like a cannon, striking the wall behind it, discharging a deafening echo through the structure. Isaac held onto me like a treasure while he led me inside. Maybe it was the near-death experience, but I melted into his strong arms like any good damsel-in-distress would.
Isaac turned the water on, and it rushed into the basin hard, splashing droplets all over the counter. I stood like a zombie. Isaac hiked my shirtsleeves up to my forearms, trapping my bracelet in the bunched up fabric, but as he fumbled around with the dead weight of my limbs scrubbing at the dried blood stuck to them, the jewelry was knocked loose and fell to my wrist. Isaac went rigid at the sight of it but recovered fast to finish my arms before moving on to my forehead. We said nothing.
Anguish lodged in the wrinkle between his furrowed brows, now only inches from my face. Isaac wet down another wad of paper towel, and as his gentle strokes wiped across my face it brought a little life back to me. Even so, there were no romantic gazes or love-struck smiles being exchanged—only intense analysis from Isaac, and all-consuming fear from me.

Character Interview: Connor
What do you want? Probably what every levelheaded guy wants who’s in his senior year of high school; to get into a good college, land a great job, travel…those sorts of thing.

There isn’t something deeper in there—something a little less tangible—that you want in life?
It would be nice to find my birthparents. Scary, but nice. They could be a couple of lunatics, for all I know, but they might be really great people. I’d like to know where I came from.

What is your most treasured possession? The relationship I have with my best friend Tara. She’s the absolute best thing that’s ever happened to me. We have each other’s backs, and tell each other everything. She’s really smart, too. Did she tell you she takes a foreign language class at Harvard University? Gaelic…who speaks Gaelic, anyway? (Connor laughs)

Hmmm…sounds like you have feelings for Tara, eh?
Tara doesn’t see me like that. In fact, I’ve never known her to have a boyfriend. Like I said, she’s smart. She’s always studying when we’re not together.

That’s a very interesting answer, Connor, but lets move on. What is a trait you hate most about yourself?
If you want me to be truthful, I’d have to say…sometimes I catch myself having fleeting, deviant thoughts. Like say I’m driving and some jerk cuts me off. For a very split second I might think, I could just run that guy off the edge of the road into a tree. But then I’m like, what are you thinking, Connor! It’s weird, and come from nowhere. I’m not a bad guy with deep seeded pain or anything.

And how does that make you feel?
It makes me want to meet my birth mom to find out if she was some kind of serial killer when she was pregnant with me. (Connor laughs at himself again)

Last question, Connor. What’s in your refrigerator right now?
You know, I’m not sure. You’d have to ask my mom. But we do seem to always have giant red grapes in the house. Do those go in the refrigerator?

C.L. Marin was born and raised in Lafayette Indiana. As a high school student she was more interested in her extra curricular activities like marching band, show choir, and being a diver on the swimming and diving team, than homework. In fact, C.L. Marin always said if her English Literature teacher ever found out she wrote a book she might die of a heart attack.  

After high school she worked as a travel agent for ten years before going back to college and becoming a dental hygienist. It wasn’t an easy task as a single mom but once C.L. Marin has focused on a goal it isn’t often it goes unattained. Once she settled into her career there was finally time to enjoy some pleasure reading. She was spellbound to a popular young adult series but found herself unable to fill the void of the characters she’d lost after finishing it. Right then C.L. Marin made herself a new goal—write the novel she could not find! She wasn’t expecting it to be as hard to do, nor as rewarding, but it is truly her passion.
C.L. Marin still works full-time as a dental hygienist while she writes in the hours she is not sleeping. She is the mother of three wildly intelligent, and extraordinarily brilliant, children, and the wife of her high school sweetheart. They have an eleven-year-old narcoleptic black lab named Murphy Lee, a seven-year-old massively obese cat named Thai, a four-year-old spastic pit bull named Molly Jean, and a one-year-old cat named Tuttle.
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Guest post by author K.D. Van Brunt‏

Dance of the Pink Mist
The Cracked Chronicles, Book 2
K.D. Van Brunt
romance/paranormal/urban fantasy - 100K

Editor's Pick

In the sequel to Win the Rings, Gray is now a prisoner at Cracked, forced to undergo combat training under the supervision of his nemesis, Jace. He soon learns first hand why all the other kids at Cracked are scared to death of her, but he also finds a chink in her armor and they both realize they have an eerie connection to one another.
Gradually, Gray is drawn into Jace’s dangerous world of Special Ops missions, where death waits like a shadow in every corner.
For Jace, Gray poses a new kind of threat. Although she’s proficient in all types of combat, Jace’s training hasn’t prepared her for him, and she is forced to confront feelings she has never experienced before.
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Guest Post

Writing Young Adult Fiction

I write what I like to read, and I read a lot of YA. Why? First, let’s be clear. Young adult is a description of who the main characters are, not a reading level. Its focus is on a particular stage of life and the journey and challenges a teenager faces. It’s a time of discovery, both good and bad, and a time of making some of the most important decisions of your life. Stories about this time of life are deeply relevant to all ages, as demonstrated by the fact that most buyers of young adult are, in fact, adults, if what you read in the press is to be believed and I think it is.
So, why young adult? There are several things about young adult fiction that I enjoy reading and writing about. In no particular order—
One, the depth and breath of the issues covered. YA tackles everything, from love and loss, pain, abuse, friendship, suicide, drugs, sex, you name it, and good YA deals with these issues in an unflinchingly honest, non-preachy way. Yes, other fiction deals with these things too, but YA tends to tackle them from the perspective of characters who typically confront them for the first time. I find that more interesting.
Two, originality and dariness. YA fiction can be so inventive and cutting edge, often eager to try new approaches. What if we took a cowboy western and mashed it up with a contemporary romance story and tossed in elements from a paranormal urban fantasy story? You get that in YA, not so much in other fiction. Sometimes it fails miserably, but sometimes it succeeds spectacularly. YA fiction is not afraid to take chances and bust out of traditional genres. I like that.
Three, point of view. Perhaps the hallmark of most YA fiction today is that it’s frequently told from a first person point of view and often the narrator is unreliable. This tends to give the story extra immediacy and a greater emotional punch. I prefer to write in the first person and there is no more welcoming place to do that than YA fiction.
Finally, the stage of experience. YA often involves a time of discovery and first encounters, more so than other fiction. It’s enjoyable to read and write about first contact and impressions, about handling new experiences and coping with pre-existing stereotypes and prejudices. Again, you find this in other fiction too, but it’s a defining feature of much YA fiction.
So, where does the Cracked Chronicles (book one: Win the Rings; book two: Dance of the Pink Mist) fit in with the above? The Cracked Chronicles, at its core, is about characters striving to break free of their restraints, gain their independence, and take responsibility for their own life. The fact that it takes place inside an urban fantasy story doesn’t change the basic dilemma most teenagers confront at some time or another: I’m tired of being ordered around and told what to think and feel, and now I want to make my own decisions.

 

Excerpt

I give three raps on Jace’s door, precariously balancing an armload of her clothes in one hand and her newly pressed uniform jacket in the other. I’ve been Jace’s personal valet and general all-around slave for over six weeks now, bustling from one task to another, while trying not to incur her prickly wrath. And even though much of what she makes me do is demeaning, curiously I find myself stealing looks at her when she’s not paying attention to me.
“Come in,” Jace says through the closed door.
I try to stick my thumb on the bio-sensor pad next to her door, but the action causes me to lose my balance just enough to send the pile of clothes cascading to the floor. There are no outside doorknobs here, just these small rectangular pads beside every door, which read your thumbprint and release the lock.
“Shit!” I curse.
I drop to my knees to salvage what I can and refold the rest. The door opens behind me causing me to flinch. I look up at Jace wondering if she’s going to give me a swift kick to the ribs for this, but she just stands in the doorway tapping her foot impatiently on the floor. She has her arms folded across her chest looking peeved, and I see she’s dressed in old sweats and a loose-fitting camo tank top. She doesn’t have a bra on. For some reason I blush at this, as if I walked in on her while she was dressing.
“I should make you re-wash all of this, Gray, but I’m feeling generous tonight.”
“Excuse me. Did you say Gray, sir?” This would be the first time she’s used my first name since I got here. Until now it’s been rookie, rook, newbie, new meat—among others terms of endearment.
She shrugs. “I suppose you’ve earned the right to be called by your first name. Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Thank you.”
“Whatever,” she says with a sigh. “Now listen up. My bathroom needs cleaning. So get this mess picked up and get to work on it.”
Five minutes later, I’m standing in front of her dresser putting away her newly refolded clothes. I’ve memorized by now the layout of her drawers—underwear and socks in the top drawer, shirts and pajamas in the second, pants, etc., in the third. There’s a fourth and fifth drawer, but I’m not supposed to open those, so I don’t know what she’s hiding in there. Finishing, I glance over at Jace, who’s sitting cross-legged on her bed flipping through a magazine—Jane’s Intelligence Review. Gee, that looks like a fun read. Her blonde hair is so fine and soft I feel this irrational urge to run my hands through it, even though she’d probably kick me in the groin if I tried. She’s leaning forward to study the magazine and my eyes lock onto her tank top, which is gapping enough to almost flash her entire, braless chest at me. I gawk for a moment, but then feeling like a perv, I advert my gaze.
“Don’t stare at me, Gray. Get to work. The cleaning supplies are under the sink.”
I nod, but I think I detect a subtle, knowing smirk on her face.
Every room in the dorm is laid out the same—a main living area and a small bathroom off one end of the room. The best that can be said about the bathrooms here is they’re functional: toilet, sink and commode, and a shower. No bathtubs. Sighing, I pull out a bristle brush and get to work on the stainless steel toilet bowl.
“You ever been to Alaska, Gray?” Jace asks after a few minutes, when I’ve moved on to scrub the shower stall.
I hesitate, puzzled by the question. “Once. Anchorage, sir.”
I hear her sigh loudly. “You can call me Jace from now on. What was it like?”
I hesitate, briefly surprised by the realization I don’t have to call her ‘sir’ anymore, but at this point it’s been so deeply drilled into me I’m not sure I’m capable of calling her anything else.

Book Trailer 

During the eight hours of the day when I’m not writing, reading or sleeping, I’m a lawyer in Washington, DC. I grew up in Southern California, moved to Seattle before coming east to Boston to go to school. Now, I live in the great state of Maryland with my wife, my dog—a standard poodle named Buffy (and who do you think named her?), and my hot Camaro. One of the few things I like better than pizza is driving fast. So, if you happen be in the DC area and a black Camaro with a red stripe and a rear spoiler roars by and blows your doors off…thaaat could be me.
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Keeper of the Gate by Paula Kennedy

KEEPER of the Gate
Paula Kennedy
Evernight Teen
Paranormal Teen Romance, 63k

Anna, the girl with flaming red hair and attitude to match, always felt like an outcast. In her final year of high school, when she can’t even connect with the right guy, she meets mysterious bible-loving Devin and feels strangely drawn to him.
There’s more to Devin than good looks and his weird obsession with scripture, and Anna finally understands the emptiness she’s felt her entire life. Join Anna as she searches for answers about her past with Devin, struggles to accept her true identity, and begins an adventure into the City of Fire to reseal the gates of Hell.
Buy Links: Evernight Teen Amazon All Romance eBooks

Can you tell us a little about your latest book? 
I would love to!
Keeper of the Gate follows Annalisa Harold a high school student who struggles with self esteem issues and depression. She’s never really felt as though she belongs among her peer group. Over the years, she has had several relationships but none of them ever lasted or felt right. Devin, a mysterious dark hair senior with luminous aqua eyes, comes into the picture and Anna feels strangely drawn to him – this type of connection has never happened before. Anna soon finds out there’s more to Devin than good looks and his weird obsession with the Bible, and the sense of loneliness she felt her entire life is finally explained. Anna spends a good portion of the book searching for answers about her past with Devin and struggling to accept her true identity. Amid this turmoil she begins an adventure into the City of Fire to reseal the gates of Hell. The story is a roller coaster and I won’t let you off until the very end so hang on!

What inspired you to write it?
I talked about this at length in another blog visit. My oldest daughter was the one who inspired me to write this story. When I told her I was going dedicate my latest book, Keeper of the Gate, to her because she had inspired me to write it, she crinkled her nose and said, "Book? What book are you talking about?" I had to laugh, and hold onto the nearest solid surface. The heated conversation we'd had so many years ago about what type of book I should write next was just a fleeting moment in her life. She had no idea I'd spent the last two years writing a story based on her desire to read a love story with angels. After some prompting and bugging - and possibly some tap dancing and head stands - Kristen finally nodded weakly and smiled.
"Oh sure, Mom, that's right." Her eyes skirted as she struggled to recall any memory of the conversation we'd had. "That book. Now I remember. I thought it was about ghosts are something?"
Boy oh boy the things we do for our kids!

How did you come up with the idea for the cover?
Truthfully I played no part in the creation of the cover. All the credit goes to Jay Aheer. He did an amazing job capturing the essence of the story. The fire at the bottom is amazing!

If it was made into a movie, who would you like to play the main characters?
I love these kinds of questions! I think it’s every writers dream to have something they’ve written turned into a movie!
If Keeper of the Gate was made into a movie I would definitely love to see Zac Efron play Devin. Zac and Devin share the same striking aqua eyes and I love the kindness that shows in Zac’s face – this is often how I see Devin.
Anna, or Annalisa, is a bit more difficult. She has a fiery personality hardened by the rejection she’s faced over the years. Perhaps I’m being a bit too ambitious but I would love to see Emma Watson play Anna. They both have a toughness masked by a soft exterior.

What is it about this genre that appeals to you so much?
Paranormal romance, mixed with fantasy, has always been my number one choice of novels. If you’ve read any of my other novels you’d see that I’m slightly obsessed with all things paranormal.

What made you want to become an author?
Authors aren’t made, they’re born. I think Lady Gaga said it best, baby I was born this way!

How do you come up with character names?
Most the time the names just fall out of the air as I write. There really is no intentional selection.

Name one of your all-time favourite books?
Interview with the Vampire is my all time favorite read – I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve read it and have to remind myself to pick something new. Anne Rice is an amazing author, her writing is beautiful.

Who, or what, inspires you?
Music inspires me most of the time – my children have some influence from time to time. ;) When I find I’m stuck on a section of whatever book I’m working on, I’ll plug in my i-pod and take a long drive with the music cranked. It’s strange but I’ve worked out more than a few issues this way.

Where is your favourite place to write?
My couch in the midst of the chaos that is my life. Banana muffin anyone? (You’ll have to visit me on Twitter to get in on the banana muffin joke). Believe it or not, I don’t work in an office or even in isolation. Perhaps this makes sense considering the life I lead. With three children under the age of eight, and one over the age of 21, there really isn’t a right place or time just for me.

What is your favourite movie that was based on a book?
Interview with the Vampire. Man I’m hard core! I love Brad Pitt as Louis but think Tom Cruise was cast a little too hastily. It’s too bad so much was left out but I think, overall, the director captured the essence of the story. I’m sure it’s very hard to replicate a book exactly.

Name two of your favourite authors.
Stephen King and Anne Rice. Stephen King because I am in complete awe of the ideas he comes up with. How does one person think of some many amazing stories? Anne Rice is my other for reasons listed above – her writing is a delight to read.

Tell us a random fact about yourself.
I crochet bubble stitch scarves but can’t do it unless I watch an example on YouTube. Seriously. I have tried for years to learn how to read a pattern with no luck. Thanks to YouTube my family is now very well equipped with puff stitch scarves of all colors. Perhaps I should give one of them away? Who needs a red puff stitch scarf? Message me!

Who would play you in the movie about your life?
Oh boy this is a tough one. I think the person that could best represent me in the movie of my life would be Penelope Cruz. Not only do we look alike – ahem okay so maybe that’s pushing it a bit- but I love that she has always known the direction of her life. I believe she was cast in her first movie when she was 15 or 16. I can relate to that. I’ve always known I wanted to be an author and didn’t stop until that dream became a reality.

Tell us an interesting fact about where you live.
I live in Northern Ontario and I am quite proud to say Angels of the Night – my first published work – is set here. It’s strange to drive around town and see a land mark featured in my novel. The Stone Masons play an integral part of that story and every time I drive by the building it feels like they’re going to come running after me for giving away their secrets. Are they really hiding the existence of vampires? ☺

What are your (writing) plans for the future?
I am currently working on the third book in the Angels of the Night series and when I’m done would like to start another book for Keeper of the Gate. There are so many possibilities for sequels from that first story I’m grappling with where to start. I really miss Devin and Anna and feel like I need to get them back right away.

Tell us one thing that's on your bucket list.
One of the things on my bucket list is to visit Scotland and tour the historic sites. As a Kennedy I’d like to explore my ancestral roots – and believe it or not I LOVE bagpipes, highland dancing and kilts. My husband and I are planning a trip in 2016. I can’t wait to cross that off.

Favourite myth / fairytale?
In Keeper of the Gate Anna and Devin have to cross the River Styx into the City of Fire so I guess this is one of my favorite myths. Overall, I love all Greek mythology and fit it into my writing when it works.

Who/What did you want to be when you were a kid?
As I was going through my school memories book a few months ago I came to my kindergarten page. At the bottom of one of the pages was a section where my parents filled in the question: What do you want to be when you grow up? At the age of four I answered ‘teacher’ and guess what? That’s exactly what I am! Teaching and writing are both in my soul – baby I was born this way.

Thanks so much for having me! If anyone would like a red bubble scarf, seriously, email me your favorite part of Keeper of the Gate – be sure to tell me why that was your favorite part. First person to answer will win the scarf and I’ll feature your answer on my blog! paulakennedyauthor@hotmail.com

Excerpt:
Backing away, I turned toward the wall. “Can’t you just leave me alone? All I’m asking for is time to say goodbye to my family. Why is that so hard?”
I could feel the heat of him directly behind me but didn’t turn. “You know the reason.” His tone was quiet and serious. “I am not going to repeat myself.”
“Go away, Devin.” Tears of frustration would not be held at bay any longer and my words were laced with hatred. “Just leave me alone!”
“No.”
Heat building in my chest suddenly exploded and I turned and shoved him as hard as I could. He staggered backwards a couple steps, but caught himself easily.
“That was pathetic,” he mumbled and moved back over to me.
“Stay back!” I demanded, fists held defensively forward.
He laughed at my threat and grabbed for both of my wrists. Arms flailing wildly, I avoided his hands but somehow he flipped me around to pin my body against the wall with his. He slipped his legs between mine and spread them wide.
“Get . . .off . . . me.” I huffed under his weight and struggled to pull away. He only dug his knees into the backs of my legs more forcefully. Laughing, he pressed his torso harder against my back before fumbling to grab my wrists.
“Make me leave, Anna,” he whispered breathlessly into my ear as he forced my hands over my head. His fingers dug into my wrists and this brought tears to my eyes.
“You’re hurting me!” I hissed through clenched teeth and leaned away from his face. “Get off me!”
He grunted with the effort and after a bit of a fight took both of my hands in one of his. With his free hand he took a fistful of my hair and yanked my head back.
“Ow!” I swore and blinked tears down my cheeks.
“You better hurry.” He hissed. “Make me leave before someone gets hurt.”
The heat of his breath in my face fueled the fire in my chest and I screamed in frustration, fear and anger. He laughed gratingly and this only ticked me off more.
“No one can hear you scream. It’s just us.” He pushed my knees painfully into the wall with his legs. “Maybe you like this. Huh?” he asked, pressing his torso harder against me. I cried out as the air was squeezed from my lungs. “I am in complete control, Anna. I could do whatever I pleased with you right now. What are you going to do about it?”
“Why are you doing this to me?” I sobbed and my anger fizzled. My words came out in a great shudder. “Get off. Please.”
“Come on!” Spittle sprayed my cheek when he yelled and I clamped my eyes shut. “You’re not Annalisa Harold.” He yanked my hair again and I whimpered.
“Stop crying,” he demanded and let up his grip a fraction.
“You’re a warrior. A Keeper of the Gate!” Air huffed from my lips as he pressed against me again. “Now. . .come . . .on! Make me leave!”
I wriggled and struggled to move away but it felt like he was made of iron. I sobbed breathlessly, my muscles spent. His suggestion I was some type of warrior was ridiculous.
Devin’s voice was laced with anger. “He will destroy your family. He will torture your friends. Is that what you want for them?”
I couldn’t breathe, could hardly think of anything but taking a lung full of air. My cheek pressed against the cold drywall and tears dripped like ice down my neck. I wanted to get away from him, wanted to breathe, but sorrow sapped my strength. Perhaps I should give in to him. Perhaps that was what I needed.
I cried then. Long, mournful sobs racked my trapped chest for what felt like hours. We stayed as we were for so long, in fact, the cold in the drywall started to eat itself into my brain. I pleaded, I begged, I screamed, but Devin refused to release me. His breath was like fire in my ear, his body a prison. He was never going to let me go.
Then the images started to come. I was desperate to save my mother, my father, my friends. Scene after scene of my life flashed like lightning in a summer storm and I knew I couldn’t sacrifice them. I didn’t care about myself, I wanted to die, but I couldn’t let my family suffer in my place. They were the innocent. They had loved me like their own.
Drawing what breath I could, I screamed from the pit of my stomach and pushed against the wall with all my might. This last effort created enough space to allow me to turn around. Anger flooded in then and I wanted to kill him. My heart raced, I couldn’t seem to draw enough air, and my body tingled with lightning.
Meeting his eyes, I didn’t miss the look of surprise that swept across his face. Glad I finally had the advantage, I drew a shaking breath before shoving him with as much strength as I could muster. As my fingertips touched his chest, the air came alive with pin pricks of electricity. Amazingly, Devin flew across the room, pulled by some invisible force, and I was left standing alone in shock. His body hit the opposite wall hard enough to knock my clock off the nail, but he
was right back on his feet and hardly fazed at all.
He adjusted his glasses and smoothed his hair. “That was good, but it wasn’t good enough.”
Recklessly, he charged at me again but this time I was ready. I lunged into a forward roll away from him, and got back on my feet, fast enough to send a roundhouse kick toward his head.
He blocked my foot skillfully, but I nearly missed a low kick from him toward my right shin and stopped it at the last second. In a flurry of movement, he threw a series of punches toward my head, all of which I blocked with my forearms. Unfortunately, as I was backing up I tripped over a book bag. He grabbed the front of my shirt as I collapsed backwards and my hair brushed the wall.
“Careful,” he said breathlessly, eyes wide with excitement.
“Thanks,” I grunted and wrenched my shirt free of his grip as I jumped back on my feet.
With every inhalation of air my body came more alive. I was electrified, invincible, and going to kick Devin’s ass.

Born and raised in Sault Ste. Marie Ontario, Paula has a B.A. in psychology, a B. Ed. in the primary, junior, intermediate and senior divisions, and a vivid imagination. She spent her early years listening to the stories of her father, a well-loved high school teacher and creating tales of adventure for her two younger sisters.
She is a wife and mother to four amazing children. “I am a mother, a wife, a teacher and a writer. Life does not get any better than this!”

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ABSENCE OF LIGHT by Meradeth Houston

An Absence of Light
Meradeth Houston
Paranormal/Suspense/Romance
Evernight Teen/80,000 words

Leah’s always seen the shadow creatures. She thought she was immune to their evil—until now.
She’s walked into a massacre, stolen a BMW, and is running from the law for a crime she didn’t commit. Nineteen-year-old Leah’s life just went from mildly abnormal to totally crazy at lightning speed. But no one will believe that the shadow creatures are framing her for the murder, because she’s the only one that can see them. At least that’s what she thought.
When Leah stumbles across a group who share her ability, she discovers they have something she doesn’t: a way to fight back. When the group offers to teach her how to kill the shadow creatures, Leah jumps at the chance. But something is brewing with the creatures. They’re tracking down the hunters like there’s no tomorrow. Leah suspects that maybe there won’t be, and it’s up to her to make sure tomorrow comes. Because she’ll do anything to stop the shadows, including risking her life—and the life of the one she loves—to keep the world from being lost to darkness forever.

Evernight Teen Amazon

Excerpt:
A creeping tingle of coldness wound around my ankles. Something lived in there––the same things that took away my family and had stalked me for most of my life.
I didn’t have a name for them. In my head, I called them the Shadows: inky, black creatures that avoided the light, like I avoided the dark. They did things. Things that made monsters like Hitler look warm and fuzzy—or at least, less homicidal.
How they did it confounded me, but they had the ability to influence the darkness in people, to make them do terrible things. The Shadows got something from it, as if they fed from humanity’s malevolence. I’d tried to learn more about them since I realized no one else could see them, but they didn’t exist in any book, Web page, or library.
The only thing I could conclude was that they were otherworldly evil, pure and simple.
It didn’t help that lately the Shadows had been more focused on me. I’d seen more in the last few months than I had in my whole life, and they had been acting stranger than normal. They were up to something.
Plotting how to kill me, and everyone I love. I’d been so stupid not to figure that out.
As if hearing my thoughts, the Shadow sensed my presence. It crept forward to the mouth of the alleyway, a darker blotch of oily blackness that moved of its own volition. A fine tendril rose from its black mass, reminding me of a periscope on a submarine, searching.
“Crap.” I glanced around for the best way to escape. No way I could outrun the thing.
The Shadow moved into the open. Skirting the light, coming ever closer. Picking up speed. I had to get away. Now.
My heart began beating double-time and my feet froze to the ground.
A part of me wanted to step on it, like a giant slug, but it wouldn’t do anything. They couldn’t be killed that way.
I would give anything to know if I could get rid of them, to wipe them from the face of the earth. But they didn’t die. Didn’t disappear. Didn’t leave me alone.
There was nowhere to hide. They’d kill me. Just like they did my family.
Glancing at the car in front of me, my panicked laugh caught me by surprise.
Another entry for my rap sheet.
Careful to keep in the light, I hurried around to the driver’s side. Scooping up the keys, I threw myself behind the wheel. My fingers trembled as I shoved the key into the ignition.
The Shadow lurked near my door. I spared it one glance before the engine caught with a merciful roar and I slammed my foot on the gas.
The tires squealed and a trail of smoke hid the Shadow. The snaking chill, as I always felt from them, gave way and I knew I had left it behind.
There would be more, though. There were always more.

I've never been a big fan of talking about myself, but if you really want to know, here are some random tidbits about me:

~I'm a California girl. This generally means I talk too fast and use "like" a lot.

~I have my doctorate in molecular anthropology. Translation: I sequence dead people's DNA and spend a whole lot of time in a lab, which I love.

~I've been writing since I was 11 years old. It's my hobby, my passion, and I'm so happy to get to share my work!

~My other passion is teaching. There's nothing more fun than getting a classroom of college kids fired up about anthropology!

~If I could have a super-power, it would totally be flying. Which is a little strange, because I'm terrified of heights.
WEBSITE, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Tumblr, and of course her blog!

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