Lucky's Charm Blog Tour Day Two!

I know, this is really sad, but I don't remember if I scheduled something for today. See, my hard drive decided to die on me, four days before my book release! UGH!

I will post the link of the blog I'm on today, if there is one, on my Facebook page today, so make sure you're following me: https://www.facebook.com/JennNixonAuthor

And remember to help me spread the word about Lucky's Charm and my contest!

Lucky's Charm Blog Tour Day One!

I'm so excited to share my latest novel, Lucky's Charm with all of you. In celebration of the book release, I'm doing an impromptu blog tour!


Each day, until 8/7 I will be touring the internet and offering you a different excerpt from Lucky's Charm, my Romantic Suspense novel coming out tomorrow 7/31 from Wild Child Publishing.


Today's stop is on Terri Talley Venters blog: Elements of Mystery 


Please stop by and say hello!


Thank you all for your support!

Teaser Tuesday with Jenn Nixon, hey...that's me!

I know, I know, shameless self-promotion. But hey, it's my blog, I should post some of my stuff, right?

So, I've saved my favorite excerpt for you.

Remember, Lucky's Charm comes out July 31st!! Check back here to take part in my contest give-a-way!

Here's the blurb:

To protect her family and find a killer, Felicia “Lucky” Fascino assumed her adoptive father’s identity and joined the network, an organization of moral assassins to finish the job he began. Eliminating the man responsible for murdering her mother has consumed her for the last five years.

While keeping her Uncle Stephen and cousin Elizabeth at arm’s length, Lucky begins to feel the weight of her career choice and reclusive lifestyle. Then a chance encounter with an enigmatic hit man, during one of her jobs, turns into a provocative and dangerous affair. Distracted by the secret trysts with Kenji "Shoukan" Zinn and mounting tension within her family, Lucky makes reckless mistakes that threaten her livelihood and almost claim her life.

Excerpt:

By midnight, she was wandering the half-deserted, glacial streets of Manhattan, looking for a place to drink.

Lucky found a decent bar with a large front window. She drank a gin  and tonic, loathing the creatures of the night living their lives. At one time, long ago, she’d been just like them, enjoying her youth. Now, she just sneered at their happiness and tried to numb the jealousy.

After her second drink, she tapped  Shoukan’s number into her cell phone and then erased it. If she did that, he’d have access to her.

Lucky ordered a third drink.

Her eyesight blurred from the mix of her fourth drink and adrenaline. It was a destructive combination. That’s what she got for being a lightweight and drinking right after a job. Thinking the cold air might help, she paid her tab and took to the streets. When she got to the end of the block, Lucky retrieved her cell phone. She tapped in the number from memory and stared at the screen. Shoving it in her pocket, she trudged to the end of the next block and paused at the light. Everything remained hazy. She felt completely wired and drunk.

Lucky crossed street after street, attempting to sober up and not to think of him. Those eyes, the way they stared at her, into her. She stopped to admire a large, red sculpture and pulled the phone out again. Opening it, the screen lit up with his number.

Her thumb hit send. She cursed under her breath, lifting the phone to her ear. It rang once. The line stopped ringing before she hung up. If he was there, he didn’t say anything. Had he given her his handler’s number? Or a fake one? Was she that gullible? She heard him breathing and leaned against a building.

Lucky shuddered. “I’ve been drinking.”

“I have been thinking…of you,” he said softly through the phone as if he was miffed she hadn’t contacted him earlier.

“I shouldn’t have called.”

“Yet you did.”

One drink…it can’t hurt, right?  She shut her eyes. “Are you still in the city?”

“Yes,” he said instantly. “I wish to see you.” His voice sparked another shiver down her spine.

“Why?”

“For the same reasons you called me.”

“I’m drunk, I have an excuse.”

“No, you drank to create one.”

Lucky drew a painful, jagged breath. She bit her bottom lip, gripped the phone, and opened her eyes. “I just want to take you up on that offer for a drink.”

“That is not what you want.”

Her hand trembled. It was true. Right now, she wanted him. He tore through four years of solitude and read her like an open book after thirty minutes of contact. That intrigued her. It was also hazardous.

“What do you want?” she eventually asked in a hushed tone.

“You, Lucky.”

Oh shit. The way he said her name started a fire. This one was too strong to put out alone. The logical side of her brain shut off. “Where are you staying?”

“The Wolcott on Thirty-First.” It may have been her imagination, but he seemed to be breathing faster too.

“What room?” She began walking in the opposite direction.

“Three ten.”

“I have my knife with me.”

“You will not need it,” he murmured.

“I’ll be there in fifteen.” She needed and deserved this; it was about time she cashed in. Lucky clicked the phone off and silenced it. She shoved it in her coat pocket and went straight to the hotel.

Teaser Tuesday with Berinn Rae

Today's Teaser is from Berinn Rae, author of Stealing Fate.

Stealing Fate is a 20,000-word e-novella (about 100 pages) in the Unspun anthology that sheds light on the Fates, ancient goddesses who played a role in many Greek myths. Each novella in the anthology is being released as a standalone e-novella first. Stealing Fate will be available as an ebook everywhere July 24.

STEALING FATE

She stole his fate…

Lachesis is a Fate, an ancient goddess in whose hands our destinies are unraveled. When she’s not weaving fortune, she does what she wants when she wants. That all changes when she runs into the man she craves but prayed to never see again. And she'll soon discover the god of terror can really hold a grudge.

Now it’s his turn…

The most frightening of gods, Phobos is a predator who takes pleasure in terrorizing the world. After millennia of relentless searching, he finds the Fate who caused him to be cast down from Olympus. Now he plans to use every bit of his talents on the goddess to regain his lost heritage without losing his heart in the process.

 

Excerpt:

With the slightest tug of a smile, Phobos closed his eyes and imagined the ground quaking and streamers of fires bellowing down from the ceiling. What he envisioned, the mortals’ minds made real. It took no more than a mental nudge to mislead the weak. Thunder shook the building, and plaster pelted them like hail. Screams erupted. The herd trampled one another in attempts to flee the horror of their own minds’ creation. He could feel their hearts leaping in fear. It exhilarated him.

None were more skilled than Phobos in driving fear into even the most courageous of warriors. He could drive cities mad with horror. The right mind fuck could end a war before a drop of blood was shed. Except the god of terror delighted in bloodshed. And one particular Fate’s blood begged to be spilled.

Phobos charged into the night, his speed increasing past each block, knowing he would quickly catch up to his prey. Lachesis.

She wasn’t far now. Excitement welled as he drew closer to the woman who deprived him of glory. For the centuries he’d been doomed to this realm, Fate tortured his thoughts.

It took him nearly an hour before he spied his prey. She’d wisely moved to the grittier side of town, where the population grew sparse when the sun set. More places to hide, older scents. She’d thought herself clever, but Phobos was no ordinary tracker.

The filth and noise made it easier for Phobos to close the distance between them. Every few seconds, Lacey glanced over her shoulder before continuing her doomed escape. Was that a look of anticipation? No more than a dozen feet away now, his heart thrummed.

Using his ability to blend into the bricks, he stepped into the alley. Lacey leapt onto a caged ladder, froze, and then dropped to the ground. Coming to her feet, her eyes darted around the alley, looking for something. He drew close enough now that, even without battle-honed senses, she could likely sense him.

He mentally projected a sea of bats raining down into the alley.

Lacey inhaled sharply. Then she did what he never expected. One corner of her mouth tugged her lips into a sensual smile. Her eyes narrowed. Did he sense exhilaration?

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” she taunted in a sing-song voice, oblivious to the swarm around her.

Frowning, he melted the bats into the blackness. Taking his time, he drew closer, dropping the illusion only after he came to stand behind her.

“Caught you,” he whispered into her ear from behind.

She shivered, tensed, and turned around. Slowly. Seductively. 

He raked his gaze over her body. So close. He fought back the urge to pull her to him, to inhale her, to taste her. Instead, he stood firm, prepared to take her down at the slightest hint of aggression. He couldn’t afford carelessness. “Your escape will not be so easy this time.”

She lifted her brows. “Who says anything about escape? Maybe I wanted you to find me.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Do you crave death, woman?”

“No. I like living very much. What I crave is you. Every inch. Every delicious scar.” She traced a line across a scar on his neck he’d acquired from an axe that nearly decapitated him.

He gripped her hand, angry that she pointed out his imperfections. “Liar.”

“Give up the self-loathing thing, Phobos. You’re scrumptiously sexy. Deal with it.” With that, she grabbed his neck and tugged him down closer. Stronger than her, he permitted the small movement. Until she stared at his lips.

She wouldn’t dare.

She dared.

Author's Bio: Berinn Rae writes romantic science fiction/fantasy starring women with kickassitude. She is the author of the Guardians of the Seven Seals fantasy romance series and Colliding Worlds trilogy (alien romance). When not writing, she can be found flying old airplanes, watching SciFi movies, playing RPGs, and pampering an incredibly spoiled sixty-pound lap dog.

Connect with Berinn at:

Website: www.berinnrae.com/

Facebook: www.facebook.com/berinn-rae

Twitter: twitter.com/berinnrae

Fun Facts Friday

Took off last week, so let's see if I can get to five again today!

#1. I love hats! I don't have a huge collection right now because I'm kinda broke, but if I had money, I'd have a huge hat collection instead of a shoe collection. I currently have about 7 or 8 hats. They are mostly painter cap types with a few ball caps, my favorite two are the Indiana Jones Fedora (Decorative only) and my awesome new bowler hat that I got for Christmas last year from the BFF. This year I asked for a Deer-Stalker. Hope I get one!


#2 I believe in Aliens. I know, I know, kind of a given right? But hey, some people may not know that about me. Recently, I've been fixated on the whole Ancient Astronaut theory. The theory is that aliens have been coming to Earth since, well, forever, and have helped Humans along via DNA, Technology, and even in a  Religious/Spiritual nature. While I don't necessarily believe ALL of the theory, there are some part of it that make total sense to me and seem more likely than one all powerful being responsible for the vastness of the universe. Then again, you never know right?


#3 I have a weird fascination for serial killers. I don't approve of them. I don't think they are cool or should be glorified by any stretch of the imagination. I've read a bunch of non-fiction books about serial killers, watch just about any movie or TV show that has something to do with serial killers, and really, really want to write my own book about a serial killer one of these days. Gary Cole is playing a serial killer in a Lifetime movie this weekend. I have it set to record. Cole is creepy on his own, as a serial killer, he's going to be amazing.

#4 I'm very sentimental. I seriously cried all the way through Beauty & The Beast when it first came out on DVD back about 10+ years ago. I love connecting with old friends online and seeing how they're doing. I often think about people that I've lost touch with, are no longer friends with, or just plain don't like me anymore. Some Hallmark commercials have made me cry and did I tell you I cried like six times while watching A Dolphin's Tale? It's true. I did.

#5 I am unable to chose between Superman and Batman. I love them both.

Q&A with Author E.A. Setser

Today's Q&A Interview is with author E.A. Setser.

Enjoy & Comment!

What is the worst thing you’ve written, how did you learn or know it was bad, and what did you learn from it?

This one could go two ways. The worst book I’ve ever written was Fate, a project I worked on from age 11 to age 13. It was about a group of human adolescents traveling to another world and participating in a war between a voodoo warrior, aided by a medicine man, and a demonic arch-mage with a pet minotaur. It was excessively campy, but I wrote it intending to be serious.

The worst I’ve written for my age was Prophecy Nocturne, the first book I completed a draft of. It was about a modern mystical struggle to keep a shape-shifting demon from merging a new Circle of Hell with Earth and damning everyone, thus greatly skewing the spiritual Balance. I finished it when I was 21 or 22, but when I got halfway through the first re-read edit, I realized it was full of plot holes and just poorly executed. Cool idea horribly done.

I learned a lot about character development, self-criticism, and story planning through those experiences. One of my biggest faults was in not planning a sturdy framework for the meta-story. So, I had to implement changes as new ideas came up, which meant the final product was an inconsistent mess.

Why did you start writing and when did you decide to go professional?

Do you remember why you did the things you did when you were four years old? No, seriously, I learned to write complete sentences and got this insatiable urge to write stories pretty soon after. When I was writing Prophecy Nocturne, I decided I wanted to make a living off of my writing. Fortunately, I started holding myself to higher standards before I went slapping my name on whatever I pulled out of my butt. Haha!

Do you write in more than one genre? Which ones and which do you like the best?

I’ve only got one series going – it’s kind of my Mount Rushmore – but I’ve never been able to pigeonhole even one book in it as just one genre. Fantasy figures prominently, but it’s sort of modern fantasy with elements of sword-and-sorcery and mild sci-fi thrown in. I call it industrial fantasy.

But it also includes elements of suspense, thriller, criminal drama, political drama, conspiracy, war, comedy, romance, etc. Not to say it’d ever be shelved as any of those in a bookstore, but the elements are there and integral to the story as a whole. It’s something of a sandbox epic.

Do you read other author’s books when you’re writing? If so, do you read the same genre or something different?

When I do that, I subconsciously try to emulate styles or even copy scenarios and character elements in my own writing. So I make a point to avoid it now.

What is the most difficult part of the entire writing process for you? Queries, pitches, editing..etc.

Marketing. I’m not a people person, and it shows. Most of what I say comes off as abrasive. A lot of people take my input as insulting, even when I’m biting my tongue and keeping my criticism strictly constructive. It’s not exactly good for public relations, but it does attract a certain kind of audience in itself.

If you could have the same type of career as any author currently publishing who would it be and why?

James Patterson. I’m none too familiar with his work, but I know he’s widely successful and generally respected as a writer. You don’t see that combination often.

Author's Bio: After spending most of his life failing to gain footing in Knoxville, TN, E. A. Setser and his family packed their life into a truck and set their sights on Cincinnati, OH. Being nearsighted, his aim was a little off, and they landed 2 miles short in Covington, KY. But in the spirit of America, they got a rental house with some friends and decided to settle there anyway. Now, he works as a cost estimator, purchaser, machinist, and database administrator for a local sign manufacturing company. He also has an Associate’s degree in Accounting, sort of.

As for writing, E. A. got started at the age of 4, writing short stories for his family. Seven years later, he tried writing a novel for the first time and failed. Another few years later, he tried again, keeping many of the same elements, and scrapped the 540-page end result because it sucked. It wasn’t until he was 28 years old that he finished a novel he was proud enough of to publish under his real name. Elder Blood is the first of seven novels in his The Epimetheus Trial series, and it has nothing to do with vampires, so don’t even ask. Seriously.

 Elder Blood chronicles a military superpower's quest for autonomy by driving its neighbors into obsolescence. This ambitious pursuit is enabled and empowered by The Avatars of Fate, an obscure organization with technological offerings beyond the most advanced civilizations. In the shadows of their ascent, federal officials are left blind to the rebellion building around their feet as splinter groups -- including some unsuspected persons of interest -- converge under a common purpose.

Casual mentions of gods and deities by The Avatars of Fate raise suspicions in an otherwise agnostic world. Equally suspicious is the fact that their emergence coincides with the reappearance of an alternate line of hominids thought to have met with extinction several centuries ago. These Hybrids are imbued with inhuman traits and capabilities, perhaps a driving force behind the vendetta issued against them. Every move is awash in possibility, and every new answer brings a wealth of intrigue in this heady epic.

Visit E.A. online: 

www.facebook.com/ElderBlood

Buy Link
CreateSpace discount code: (T6HSQ2WG for $1 off)

When rejections get you down...

I was picked to send Tiva Boon: Royal Guardian to a publisher as part of a contest I sorta won. Super excited, I sent it out same day I won.

I had high hopes.

They were shot down quickly.

Poor Tiva.

She started off as a character for a role playing game. Then I wrote a short story. I liked it.

That short story, and all the cool stuff I did in the role play with Tiva eventually created an EPIC story of her life from birth to death.

The first publisher that "wanted" it, took out the prologue (death), made me change my three 100K books to two 145K books, made me a pretty awesome cover...but alas it went no where.

Now, almost 10 years later, I'm still shopping it around.

I'm getting tired of being rejected on this project.

Then I go online and read stories about other authors getting hundreds of rejections for novels that eventually went onto be super awesome best sellers.

Tiva could be a best seller. It would make one hell of a movie. And I can honestly see the franchise in my head. It's as big as Harry Potter because you know what, Tiva is pretty damn awesome.

So, if you happen to know any Sci-Fi publishers who would be interested in the following, please, please let me know :-)

Royal Guardian Tiva Boon struggles to uncover the traitorous group who used her to provoke a war, destroyed her family, and left her for dead in an unknown and dangerous part of the universe.

While achieving her ambition to become the first female elite Royal Guardian, Tiva Boon exposes a conspiracy threatening the king’s life. During her first official mission, Tiva attempts to find the conspirators, but war erupts between the Kingdom of Abennelp and the traitorous rebels. The Rebels force the king and his protectors to flee the planet in an experimental spacecraft. As they orbit the planet, an alien ship attacks the king’s vessel. Tiva witnesses the ruthless killing of everyone she loves as her damaged escape pod travels away from her homeworld. Adrift and alone, her pod crash-lands on a nearby planet. Tiva seeks asylum with the Union, a universal security force and uses her skills as a Guardian to integrate into the strange society. Tiva attempts to put the past behind her, however an unexpected message from Abennelp alerts her that the conflict at home continues. As the last Royal Guardian alive, the people beg her to return and restore order to their beleaguered world.

Before Tiva makes the decision to return home, war between the Union and a powerful enemy called the Triune Syndicate spreads across the universe. Messages from Abennelp become more urgent. Tiva is torn between returning to the people she left behind and those she must protect within the Union. After an unknown craft lands on her planet, Tiva, with the blessing and help of her new friends, departs for home. Those loyal to the fallen king rally behind Tiva, willing to risk their lives to recapture control of the kingdom. As her two worlds collide, the answers Tiva has searched for her entire life rekindles her attempt to bring peace to her people.

Be first to win Lucky's Charm!

Getting ready for a book release is fun, exciting, and kinda stressful. You always want everything to go well.

I'm starting early. Sending out review requests this week and next. Setting up A BIG Blog tour with giveaways.

But I wanted to give all my friends the chance to win and read Lucky's Charm before it comes out.

Are you in? Leave a comment below. If anonymous login, include your email so I can send you a copy if you win.

Ready...

Set...

COMMENT! 

Fun Facts Friday

You guys really have no idea how hard this is for me to come up with things that people probably don't know about me. I'm kinda indecisvice with certain things but I also consider myself a very open person. So, let's see if I can get to five!

1. I was almost a hunter. When I was a pre-Teen, my father tried to get me interested in hunting. While I admit I loved shooting the guns, the thought of killing an animal didn't appeal to me. Granted, we ate anything my father hunted and brought home but I have since lost my tastes for game-y foods, so the only thing I really miss now is the guns.

2. I'm a dog person. I love and respect all animals (see above) and my favorite non-pet type of animal is a penguin. However, I love dogs. Love them! Dog People treat their dogs like kids 90% of the time. Me, personally, I sing to my dogs, talk to them when no one else is around (so I don't have to talk to myself anymore), and love it when they lick my face. Yes, I know. Most people go YUCK. You're not a real dog person then.

3. I started keeping a Diary at age 13. I kept up with it for the most part up until a couple of years ago when I started blogging. For Teenaged Jenn, writing in my diary was cathartic. It was the one place I wasn't judged, lied to, picked on, yelled at, or treated like a kid. I haven't gone back recently to read some of those old entries, but the last time I did, I kinda felt bad for that Teenage Jenn, she was very sad but kinda funny too. Such drama for a 16 year old! One day I may use those old writings for a memoir or something.

4. I do not like the summer. Apropos I guess, right? Mind you, when I was heavier I REALLY hated summer because when you are overweight in the summer it's torture. When I lost the weight, I thought I would like summer more because I wouldn't be as hot. WRONG! I do love the feel of the sun on my skin. I love the early morning sunrises. I love being on the water in a boat or in the water swimming. I do not love humidity. I do not love sweating. I do not love sunburn. The only good thing about summer, for me, is the thunder & lightning storms!

5. I'm a pack rat. I have my Cabbage Patch Kids and other toys from the 80's. I have years worth of EW magazines. I have a container full of cassette tapes. I have 1000+ DVDs. I have a chest full of baseball, movie, and other collectible cards. I still have every single book I've purchased for myself since the 1990's. With the rare exception of my own novels, I have never re-read a book. I plan on doing that when I'm older and want to be nostalgic about my youth. :-) One of my collections is the Jedi Apprentice Series from Scholastic. I really loved these books. They were short and for kids, but  they were the inspiration for me to start writing so they will always have a special place in my heart. You can't purchase new ones anymore and I once saw the collection on Ebay for 100+ bucks. So, I'm hanging onto these babies!

Happy Friday Friends!!

Q&A Thursday with Bob Horbaczewski

Today's Q&A Interview is with Author Bob Horbaczewski!


Enjoy & Comment!!


Why did you start writing and when did you decide to go professional?


I've been writing since I was a very young child. In the sixth grade I made my first attempt at writing a novel. Unfortunately my family moved from Hawaii to Arizona and the distractions of youth took my attention away from it. My passion for writing however always remained. In 2000, following my parents divorce, I dropped out of college to help my mother through that process. That unique situation gave me the opportunity to evaluate what I wanted to do with my life. Together with a group of friends, I wrote and directed my own independent movie, 'Into The Darkness', which can be seen on YouTube. That adventure was my first attempt to make writing a profession. Though it was not successful financially, the experience of seeing my words come to life was enough to cement the need to create within my core.


Do you write in more than one genre? Which ones and which do you like the best?


I have written in different media forms, screenplays, poetry, novels. Currently I enjoy writing Science Fiction and Fantasy, though I also try to write in other genre's as the stories come to my mind. Science Fiction and Fantasy hold a special place in my heart as that is the genre I have always been the greatest fan of. I grew up with Dune, Star Wars, Star Trek, Dungeons and Dragons, and so many other entries. The wonder of what may be or what might have been in these worlds is probably the biggest draw of the genre to me. I think in those worlds of grandeur characters are able to be pushed even further emotionally, broken down in ways that would not be possible in the constraints of a more real world. Paul Atreides facing his destiny as a Messiah, Aragorn accepting his lineage and leading the Dead Men of Dunharrow into battle, or a young moisture farmer finding out he is one of the last of a group of Mystics. 


Do you read other author’s books when you’re writing? If so, do you read the same genre or something different?


In the past I have tried to stay away from reading other author's books while I am writing. I have always had the concern that some aspects of other author's stories will find their way into my own. However, lately I have found that as long as I have the structure of my story laid out, reading other author's books serve only to motivate me to improve my own writing. I do not have a specific genre that I will lean toward while writing, instead I just read in the same manner as if I were not.


What is the most difficult part of the entire writing process for you? Queries, pitches, editing..etc.


The most difficult part of the writing process for myself has always been the editing process. I usually find myself constantly changing things, whether adding or subtracting from what I've written, and never finding an end to that process. It is extremely difficult to find a stopping point when going back through anything that I have written. With my novel, 'The Malef Chronicles' I spent twice as much time editing the story then I did in writing it.


If you could have the same type of career as any author currently publishing who would it be and why?


Scott Sigler is definitely the author whose career I would want. I greatly appreciate the way in which Mr. Sigler has gone about in finding his audience and putting out his own stories. His use of new media to help introduce himself and his work to his audience is amazing and very inspiring to me.


Author's Bio: A child of the 80's, Bob Horbaczewski grew up immersed in both Science Fiction and Fantasy. Inspired at a young age to write, Bob found a passion in story telling and was rarely found without a pen and pad to write with. Lost to the wonders of Star Wars, Star Trek, Lord of the Rings, Dune, Dungeons and Dragons, Marvel, DC, and numerous other stories, Bob became determined to craft his own tales. In every spare moment of his life, Bob found time to write. However, in the summer of 2006 one idea began to consume his creative process. Born years earlier in a wild hailstorm of thought, The Malef Chronicles found a pressure to be brought to a more refined form. Years prior Bob had dreamed of crafting an epic nine part story of galactic wars, betrayals, love, death, and wonder and in 2006 he finally took the steps to begin that very story.


https://www.facebook.com/Themalefchronicles

twitter.com/malefchronicles 

Blurb: In the distant future, Colin Kinison, a brash, young and arrogant pilot is thrust into the middle of an impeding galactic war after his ship is suddenly attacked while investigating an unusual anomaly at the edge of known space. O'Tel, king of the Ter'Ok'Zhu, an ancient race of mystics, recruits Colin to help him stop Xyrus, Dark Lord of the Belgae, from assassinating a once thought lost Princess. A tale of swordplay and space fights, bringing together fantasy and science fiction, The Malef Chronicles offers an epic journey into the fantastic.

Excerpt 


Colin now stood on the edge at the observation deck strapped into his flight suit, a hybrid design that allowed for freer mobility than a full space suit. It still protected its wearer from the harsh vacuum of deep space, though it could not sustain life for an extended period. He looked back at his squadron, fear and admiration covered their faces. His ice blue eyes caught the disapproving glare of Lieutenant Commander Sasha Rogers. The Yin to his Yang, Sasha was just as striking as he was with her flowing red hair and piercing green eyes. Hers was the only look of disgust amongst the squad. Her every thought packed into one angered look. He could feel her thoughts cut into his consciousness having heard them vocalized countless times before. Always showing off. Arrogant. Prideful. Pointless.


Colin simply gave her a nod, wink, and then placed his helmet on. The faceplate was in the shape of a black ebony skull, with bright red eyes. Many men, all leaders of the Reaper Squadron, the most elite squadron in the U.T.A. had worn this helmet, but none with such a blatant disregard for the rules of conduct placed before them. Arthur enlisted Colin in the U.T.A. in an attempt to create some sense of stability in the boy’s life. Always a rebel, it only pushed Colin further in the intensity of his exploits. Colin always pushed his limits, both to test himself and in a vain attempt to draw attention from his father, even if it was negative. That desire allowed him literally to soar past his peers. His bravado, though at times regarded as fool hearty, had become the stuff of legend amongst the younger enlisted. Colin’s daring was both his greatest strength and weakness. In respect to his father, regardless of the result, he would accomplish both of his goals today. 
Colin walked through the shield that was protecting the interior of the ship from the vacuum of space out onto the flight deck. The view was divine, as if something beyond mortal had found a way to express itself tangibly. Even a few days in the brig could not erase the vision set before him. The red sun of the Kodos system was gargantuan and its reflection cast a ghastly red glow around the entire ship, as though a red ocean had flowed up and consumed the ship. The spectacle hypnotized him with its splendor. 


Days prior when Colin first presented his idea of riding one of the Seasicks, cheers from nearly the entire squadron had greeted him. Sasha warned him of the consequences of such a stunt, as logic and a sense of duty ruled her motivations.


 “This is stupid. Overriding its control board could cause it to demagnetize and go flying off into deep space with you on its back. Knowing the Admiral he’d probably just leave you out there to teach you a lesson,” she had said. 


“What lesson, how to die a cold and painful death?  He loves me too much to let that happen, but even if it did, my boots are magnetized. I’ll be fine,” Colin replied. 


ZOOM!  A seasick breezed by Colin, shocking him back to reality. Now the decisive moment had come. To turn back, Colin would face not only embarrassment and shame from his squad, but he would never hear the end of it from Sasha. He could not bear that fate, so out across the deck he walked to the seasick that had so recently buzzed by him. It chirped in response to his presence.


“Hey there little buddy,” Colin quipped at the robot, not that it could understand or respond to his comment, but the simple routine helped calm his nerves. 


Colin removed a magnetic strip from his suit. A crude creation put together in his spare time, this small black strip of silicon and steel was Colin’s ticket to glory. In theory the strip would interfere with the Seasick’s primary functions just enough for him to directly interface and take control of the bot. Sasha had helped him design it, as countless failed attempts to dissuade him from his prior stunts had taught her that it was better to help keep him as safe as possible, than see what damage he would cause if left to his own devices. As with most schemes thought up in the middle of the night, this one sounded worse and worse with each passing moment. Colin reached the seasick. There was no predicting how it would react to him jumping on board, yet alone how its system would react to the interference from the magnetic strip. There was only one-way to find out; Colin leapt. 


The most agile of leaps it was not, but it was beautiful nonetheless. Colin landed square on the back of the Seasick and made a grotesque thud. The air from his lungs rushed out of his mouth, leaving him mere seconds to regain his composure. The Seasick would be alerting for help at any moment. This was his shining moment and suddenly ego overtook him. Colin’s mind trailed off to the future, of the stories that would be told with such brevity. He looked back at his squad and waved in triumph. Not thinking Colin lost his grip and fumbled the magnetic strip, dropping it to the empty depths of space. All of his glory lost in a heartbeat, in a single act of foolish bravado. In desperation, Colin lunged for the strip. His legs barely hung onto the side of the Seasick as the strip floated further and further away, gone forever. The Seasick’s alarm wailed. His failure was now complete. 

Teaser Tuesday with Jonathan Winn

Today's Teaser Tuesday is from Jonathan Winn!

Enjoy & Comment

A sacrifice.  A dying King.  Bones in the stone, blood in the wine.  A Queen consumed by the Darkness.

From ancient Uruk, The Almost King tells his tale.  Of The Elder and his cunning Priests in their robes of red and gold.  Of an Old Woman who can call the power of the Dark Gods.  Of his mother, the Queen, and his dying brother, the King.  

And of the Darkness, an evil from before the Time of the Moon.  Inescapable, its hunger never-ending, its shadow fed by the Priests, slowly overwhelming his family.

Drowning in a sea of red and gold, the Almost King battles an unwinnable war as he navigates the wreckage towards his fate as … The Wounded King.

***

The Wounded King is the first in The Martuk Series, a collection of Short Fiction based on characters from the full-length novel Martuk … The Holy.

Excerpt:

In the silence of the Temple, they spoke.

A murmur, a sigh, an awakening, a cry. 

Mother …

Father …

King …

I moved my cheek from the stone, the pain of the whispers too great to bear.

Although night, the workers -- slaves, prisoners of war, many of them mere boys -- still pulled and pushed the immense blocks into place, the already overwhelming Temple forever expanding, a veritable mountain of stone overlooking the city.

For many of them, this was all they knew, their lives after capture, after defeat, one of constant work, nonexistent sleep, and death, quick and inevitable.

Above them all, the Priests watched.

And here, under the light of an almost full moon, the pain, the rage, the powerless despair of all those trapped and troubled bones in the stone surrounded me like a fog.

In the quiet, safe in the dark, far from those who watched and those who worked, I pressed myself to the cool rock.

I would listen.

Cry …

Whimper …

Sob …

Yes, I feel you.

Wound …

Suffer …

Die …

I pulled away.

Die …

King …

Die …

“They know you.”

I turned.

A small woman stood behind me, her long hair as silver as the light bathing her, the years in her face softened by the glow of the moon.

I glanced around for my guards before remembering I had left them hours ago, ordering them away before climbing the hill to the Temple.

“Your guilt needed solitude,” she said.  “Your shame too great to share, yes?”

She waited.

I nodded.

Yes.

“And this is why you, the Almost King, stand here now, at this hour, under the moon, listening.”

She stepped closer.

Though draped in woolen, the rough fabric scarred by clumsily mended rips and tears, her feet bare, her wiry frame alarmingly thin, she carried herself with an unapologetic sense of majesty and dignity and strength as she moved near.

“Is your power worth all that death?” she asked.

“No,” I said, the answer quick and unthinking.  “No.”

“And yet it is not something you can deny, this power.  This crown.  It will be yours regardless of what you want or what you do.  Or what I do.  Born into this, you are as trapped as those in the stone.”

The tears threatened to come.  I blinked.  And blinked again. 

“The most powerful of men,” she continued gently, “utterly powerless to change what must be changed.”

Watching me, she grew silent as if she, too, were listening. 

She turned her head, her gaze settling on the workers in the distance, the sweat on their skin shining under the glow of torchlight.

“Your mother is one with the Dark Gods, yes?” she asked.

I hesitated.

“There’s no need to answer,” she then said.  “It’s commonly known, understood.  We barbarians, as she calls us, here in the city talk of her and the Priests and their ancient religion.  Those beliefs from the Time of the Moon.  Of their worshipping those who must be paid in blood, in flesh, in fear.  In the tears and cries of those they slaughter.”

“This is known?”

Looking at me, she continued.

“It is also known, and spoken of, that once these souls are bled and lifeless and useless, they burn --”

“Stop.  Please.”

She stopped.

It was my turn to watch the muscles straining as the strangers pulled and pushed, braided rope splitting and shredding .

“The gift you must give,” she said, echoing my mother.

“Is something I regret,” I quickly said.  “Something I wish I didn’t have to do.  Something I wish I had never done.”

“But it’s done.”

I looked at her.

“She’s a very powerful woman, your mother,” she continued.  “Not many can deny her.  Not many dare.  Those who do .... ”

Growing quiet, she left the thought unfinished.

“And the Priests?” I asked.  “What of them?  Do the people talk about the Priests?”

“Yes, they do.  And they understand what you and your mother do not:  the Priests are more powerful than you know.”

“She believes she’s a God.”

“An easy lie for them to feed her,” she answered.  “And her mind …”

Hesitating, she looked for the words.

“Her mind is wounded and hungry.  Desperate for comfort, the grief, the guilt, the horror at what she’s done still at war with the delusion of her immortality.”

“She struggles,” I agreed.

“And eats.”

Confused, I looked at her, her eyes almost silver under the light of the moon.

“The bones are in the stones, yes?” she asked.

I waited.

“And what of the flesh?  The flesh you burn before they grind these bones?”

She stopped, watching me before asking again.

“What of the flesh?”

Author Bio: Screenwriter, playwright, and author of Martuk … The Holy, Jonathan Winn was born in Seattle, but raised two hours south in a very small town in Western Washington State. After graduating high school and living in Los Angeles for the better part of a decade, and desperate for four seasons instead of constant sun, he moved to New York City where he happily lived in Greenwich Village with his two dogs.  But after almost twenty years, the pull of family led him back to the Northwest where he now lives once again.  Happily. 

Like most writers, every word Jonathan writes is accompanied by endless cups of coffee with lots of milk and sugar (the ratio changing depending on whether he slept five hours or six hours the night before).  He's also regarded as politely relentless by his friends, unbearably annoying by his enemies, and recently discovered he makes a mean fried chicken, often used to placate those aforementioned annoyed ones.

The Wounded King is his second book, the first in an ongoing collection of Short Fiction called The Martuk Series.

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Get Lucky...7/31/12

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