January 27, 2014

Special Guest Adrienne Woods!


Dragons. Right. Teenage girls don't believe in fairy tales, and sixteen-year-old Elena Watkins was no different.

Until the night a fairy tale killed her father.

Now Elena is in a new world, and a new school. The cutest guy around may be an evil dragon, a prince wants Elena's heart, and a long dead sorcerer may be waking up to kill her. Oh and the only way Elena's going to graduate is on the back of a dragon of her own.

Teenage girls don't believe in fairy tales. Now it's time for Elena to believe in...herself.

Excerpt 

     A girl singing her heart out about a miracle boomed inside my ear. A miracle would get me what I needed: a chance at a semi-normal life.
     The bedroom door hitting the wall expelled the thought from my mind. With his hand tangled up in his copper hair and with huge brown eyes, Dad's figure filled the entire doorway. “Pack your bags.” He had that set to his jaw, the one that meant there was no way out of this. He bolted out of the room just as suddenly as he had appeared.
     My teeth ground hard against each other, and the sharp pain behind my eyes, I guessed from the lack of sleep, grew stronger. Every fibre of my being wanted to explode.
     Ever since I could remember my name, Dad and I had been on the run. From what? Beats me.                  
     For the last two weeks, I'd been pacing up and down through the house, struggling to fall asleep at night, waiting for this day.
     For the love of blue berries, no sixteen-year old should live this way!              
     I climbed off my bed, and the first step I took left my toe tangled in the wide leg of my jeans.  I tried to regain my balance as the closet inched closer, but with wildly flailing arms, I came crashing down. The thud reverberated across the wooden floor, and it sounded as if I'd broken something.
     Dad darted back into my room. "Are you okay?" He lifted me back onto my feet as if I weighed nothing.
     Tears lurked in the corners of my eyes, threatening to burst, as I stared up at him.
    "Don't give me that look, Elena. Please, we need to hurry.” He pulled my suitcase from the top shelf and chucked it haphazardly onto my bed. “We need to go. Now.”
    "Dad…"
     He started to grab my clothes from the shelf and tossed them messily inside my small suitcase. Then he paused, sighed, and looked up with soft eyes. He stroked the side of my cheek with his hand gently. “This wasn't the right place, bear. Please, you’ve got to trust me.”
     His hand reached back to pull everything off my shelf, while my hands curled up into balls of fury. My heart pounded fast as those two words bounced inside my skull. “Trust you, Dad?”
     "Elena, we don't have much time,” he yelled. “Pack your bags! You can ask questions later." He left, and the hollow “doof” sound from his footsteps stomped loudly as he made his way into the hall.
     Ask questions? Yeah right! I’ll only get answers that don’t reveal why we are on the run for the gazillionth time.' “Trust me” and “I'll tell you when the time is right” were the only two answers Dad gave. 'Guess time with him will never be right.’
     It was no use arguing with him anyway. The last time, he threw me over his shoulder and carried me out without any of my things.
     So I grabbed the stuff I needed: my mp3 player, a photo of Mom that Dad didn't know I had, and my journal from underneath my bed. I tossed them into my backpack. It wasn't much, but it was the stuff that made my miserable life felt less pathetic. I zipped up my suitcase and took a deep breath. Looking around my bedroom for the last time, I said goodbye to my sixtieth-something room.
     Dad almost ran me over in the hall with his army bag slung over his shoulder. He grumbled, which I assumed was an apology, took my suitcase, and ran down the stairs. He always rented these huge old houses, pre-furnished and near the countryside, and we always left after three months.
     The pickup's horn honked as I shut the front door. I closed my eyes and took another deep breath. Just two more years, then I'll be eighteen and free from this freak show. Huge raindrops fell hard onto the ground. The smell of wet dirt filled the air. It was my favorite smell.
     The water that pooled on the ground covered all the gaps in the driveway, forcing me to hopscotch around all of them. My shoe got caught in one of the gaps and I smacked down hard in a huge puddle. By the time I reached the truck, my jeans and shoes were soaking wet. 
     Warm heat from the vents inside the truck hit me full blast as I jumped in; a million goose pimples erupted across my skin.  As soon as I shut the rusty door, Dad floored the gas pedal. Tires screeched and the truck spun away as if the Devil chased us.  My lower lip quivered softly as he swerved onto the road. The streetlights flew by in a blur as I plugged in my earpieces. The same stupid song about a miracle boomed from my mp3, drowning the sound of the engine and the hard dribbles on the roof, a percussion that became the perpetual soundtrack to my misery.
       A feeling of utter loneliness consumed my heart as I stared out the window. Homes with white picket fences and the convenient store whizzed by in a flash. A tear rolled down my cheek as I said goodbye, and my breath on the glass created a foggy condensation. Reaching out my index finger, I drew a small heart. These were the reasons why Mom had left. She couldn't handle his paranoia, but why she’d left her daughter to deal with it was a mystery. Dad constantly reminded me of the latter, and that was the only time he ever spoke of her. If he ever discovered I had that picture, he would kill me. That was how much he hated her for leaving us.
     The lights of a vehicle in the upcoming lane shone directly into my face. I shut my eyes, waiting for it to disappear. As a little girl, I used to watch Dad as we drove away from yet another house. He would glare into his rearview mirror every five seconds, every muscle in his face clenched, and his knuckles white on the steering wheel. I hadn’t been able to force myself to peek out the window then, as it used to scare the living crap out of me to consider the possible reasons he was fleeing from, or who might be following us. Now, I didn't look at him or care much for what he was going through. He created this problem. With me becoming the luggage. It was a ritual I endured every three months, and nothing over the past sixteen years had ever changed that.
     The “Interstate 40” sign flew by in a whirl, and the pickup slowly moved onto the turnoff lane.
     My eyes started to burn as I stared at the rain running down my window. Each rivet resembled another town, another place I would never again call home. Exhaustion consumed me and my eyelids felt heavy. I laid my head against the window and struggled to stay awake.
     Suddenly, a dark and huge figure flew past me. Dad swerved to the left, which made me crushed into the side of the passenger’s door. My entire body pumped with adrenaline. I jumped straight in my seat and wrenched the seatbelt over my shoulder to buckle myself in. I tore out my earpieces as I tried to process what had just happened.
     “What was that?” I looked at Dad.
      He stared straight ahead with huge eyes. Beads of sweat rolled from his hairline down to the side of his temple. He looked terrified, something that conflicted with his personality. I'd never seen Dad look that scared in my entire life.
     “Dad!”
     “Did you see where it went?” he asked, attempting to inject calm into his voice, but I could hear the fear lacing each syllable.
     “See where what went? Dad what was that!”
     “You wouldn't believe me if I told you.”
     “For once in your life, just tell me!” I screamed. Sixteen years of frustration exploded from my lungs. I couldn't take the unknown anymore.
    “Fine.” He mumbled something else that I didn't catch. "Do you remember the stories I used to tell you?"
    “Stories? What stories?”
    “The ones about Paegeia, Elena.” He looked in his rearview mirror again with huge, unblinking eyes.
     Vaguely, but I didn't tell him that. "What does that have to do with this?"
     “They're real.”
      I froze and I stared at him.

      “All of it, it’s real. The dragons, the magic, the wall, everything is real.”

Author Info

I was born and raised in South Africa, where I still live with my husband, and two beautiful little girls. I always knew that I was going to be a writer but it only started to happen about four years ago, now I can’t stop writing.

In my free time, If I get any because Moms don’t really have free time, I love to spend time with friends, if it’s a girls night out, or just a movie, I’m a very chilled person.

My writing career is starting with Firebolt, book one with the Dragonian Series, there will be four books in total and two to three books that is about the stories taking place inside The Dragonian Series.

I do write in different Genres, I have a woman’s fiction called the Pregnancy Diaries, but it would be published under another name. And then I have a paranormal series, called the Watercress series. There are about ten novels in that one.

So, plenty of novels to come out, so little time.

I hope you are going to embrace the Dragonian Series as much as I loved writing them.

Kind Wishes,

Adrienne Woods

Author Links


January 19, 2014

The Empty Hearse Recap #SherlockLives!

The highly anticipated series three of Sherlock is here. What an episode! It had laughs, heartfelt moments, and if you paid attention, lots of clues. If you haven't watched...SPOILERS!

The Empty Hearse

"It’s a trick, a magic trick." Yep, it certainly was, wasn’t it? Suspenseful music queue…Sherlock is on the roof, recapping The Reichenbach Fall finale. Then the soundtrack kicks up (really loved this instrumental) and we see Moriarty being transformed into Sherlock. Watson yells. Sherlock falls. Molly is watching out a window? Slow-mo into Sherlock plummeting to the ground with a bungee cord(!) on, like an angel, he spreads his arms, makes a perfect Cumberbatch face and is hauled back up. In an action star kinda way, he spins, crashes through the window where Molly is standing. Lands. Unclips. Re-Sherlockifies. KISSES MOLLY! The homeless network moves Sheriarty to the scene. A famous UK hypnotist takes care of Watson to buy time as Sherlock heads off into the sunset. Wow. Best opening ever. Didn’t you love the look on Molly’s face? Makes me wonder if that kiss was improvised, she really makes that scene pop for me.

BOLLOCKS!

This is just one of Anderson’s many theories. He’s responsible for The Empty Hearse club, he also still feels guilty for Sherlock’s death. But as Lestrade says, it won’t bring him back…even though the whole world knows Richard Brook was really Moriarty and a superbad guy…or will it?

Poor Watson, he’s still a sad sack without Sherlock. Visiting his grave close to the two-year anniversary, he’s got a stash and frown, but also some company. We all know who it is…but we don’t get to see her yet.

“Someone” is running through the forest being chased by some very scary people, he’s trapped and caught. Next, we see a chained caveman being beaten to a pulp. After a quick deduction, the caveman is left alone with a uniformed officer who we soon learn to be Mycroft. He tells Cavelock that he’s needed back in London, there’s an underground terrorist network planning an attack.

Credits.

John heads to Baker Street.

Sherlock cleans up and explains where he’s been through a conversation with his brother. Their exchange is interesting. I love when Sherlock gets mad. Yum. Mycroft shows his distastes for people and his overwhelming intelligence, learning a new language in two hours. Maybe he is the smarter Holmes?

Mrs. Hudson digs into Watson. Mocks his stash. Watson apologizes.

Sherlock promises his brother he’ll take the case, asks about John…

Watson goes back to the apartment, has another conversation with Mrs. Hudson, telling her he’s getting engaged…to a woman. I’m not sure why they made her act so out of sorts, he had like four girlfriends so far!

Sherlock decides he wants to surprise Watson at Baker Street but he’s moved on, Mycroft says. Sherlock doesn’t understand why…but he finds out where Watson will be, says he’ll pop by, and asks for his coat. He puts it on. Sherlock is back! A beautiful scene on the roof, overlooking London transitions into the funniest scene of the episode.

Sherlock’s deduction skills are still spot on. He makes his way into the restaurant, disguises himself in a rather hilarious manner, and takes Watson’s order with a French accent, trying to expose his identify, but Watson’s not paying attention.

“Surprise me.”

“Certainly endeavoring to, sir.”

Snort.

Watson takes out his ring and we finally get to see Mary. Adorable. He begins his little speech, flubs it perfectly, but eventually gets his point across, just as Sherlock reappears with the wine. Love the look on Mary’s face. Then, Sherlock reveals himself. Watson, of course, is shocked beyond words. The lack of response softens Sherlock for a second and you can see he actually realizes this was a bad way to do it. Mary knows who it is. They have a little exchange, he takes off his fakestash, ribbing into Watson’s. Martin Freeman’s performance here is Emmy worthy, he delivers the perfect facial expressions and little grunts and brief statements to really make you feel what he’s feeling at the moment. Sensational.

Then of course, Sherlock is Sherlock. FIGHT! OMG HAHAHA!

At a slightly less posh restaurant, Sherlock begins to reveal how he faked his death but Watson wants to know why. Why Sherlock kept it from him. When Watson learns that 25 of the homeless network knew, he goes after Sherlock again. LOL

Now, we’re at a takeaway restaurant, and Sherlock gets on about the stash again saying Mary hates it, too, enraging Watson into another heated argument about his reappearance. Sherlock asks for his help with the terrorist plot, eggs him on again and gets head-butted leaving him with a bloody nose and sympathetic Mary, who says she’ll talk him around. Sherlock reads her, revealing some interesting information before she heads off with Watson. Watson’s pissed. Mary likes Sherlock. I instantly like Mary. I have a bad feeling they’re gonna kill her.

Sherlock reveals himself to Molly and Lestrade and of course a screaming Mrs. Hudson, the game is on!

We're back on the roof, but oh, what? Um…Sherlock and Moriarty are on the roof holding a fake Sherlock dummy, which they tossed over the side. The pair laugh, look at each other, lean in and…. What the fu…

Anderson freaks out at the goth girl’s theory, which she claims is just as plausible…then the BBC announces that #SherlockLives!

At home, in bed, Mary reads from Watson’s blog, digs into him about the stash and going to see Sherlock. They are so cute together. Now I’m really scared. (PS. They did make the T-Shirt)

Sherlock is back on the case, sends his homeless network into action watching his markers.

Watson goes to work.

Mycroft pays his brother a visit to check in…while playing Operation? Ha. They have a conversation about friends. I do love the way they interact with each other. Sherlock wants Mycroft to play deductions. Big brother wants nothing to do with it but like his little brother can’t help himself. The back and forth deductions about the hat’s owner is great, but what I find interesting is how Sherlock acts like he missed something knowing full well who the hat belongs to. This shows a great ease of manipulation on Sherlock’s part. Then Sherlock lures his brother into the point of the deduction. Mycroft needs some friends, too.

Back to work.

A cute interchange of scenes here between Watson’s new, boring life, and Sherlock working the case, inviting and working with Molly, flip back to Watson mistaking an old man for Sherlock then to Lestrade taking Sherlock and Molly to a crime scene, which after some delusions and deductions is revealed to be a fake.

Sherlock and Molly visit with the hat wearing tube worker. He spotted something bizarre on the CCTV footage. A man gets into the last car, and vanishes before the next stop. Sherlock recognizes the man on the video as one of his markers and goes to his “mind palace” to sort out the clues.

Watson heads to Baker Street, but before he makes it, he’s drugged and kidnapped.

Sherlock realizes the tube ride took twice as long, another important clue. He thanks Molly for her help in faking his death knowing she's not into the investigating work. She’s also engaged. He congratulates her. Kisses her cheek and heads out alone.

Watson wakes up somewhere dark, he’s bound and covered. Uh oh. Mary gets a text message, heads to Sherlock’s, tells him she got a code. She can read code? Sherlock cracks the code and they rush out to save John. Bonfires are being lit around town for Guy Fawkes Night and Watson is under one. Sherlock and Mary, on motorcycle, get there just in time.

An older lady rambles on about what at first seems like a case, but turns out to be Sherlock’s parents! Fun. (BC’s real parents by the way.) Watson interrupts and Sherlock uses it as the perfect excuse to get rid of them. Watson notices how ordinary they are….lol. They get into it a little, talk about the stash, and Watson asks if his kidnapping has anything to do with the terrorist attack. Sherlock draws Watson into the investigation, going over the wall of knowledge, picking apart the clues, which as usual, helps our detective put the pieces together. It’s the Underground itself. Seven cars are in the video when the man steps into the tube, six arrive at the next station. Sherlock knew the ride took twice as long, so a car was detached and left on the tracks somewhere in the Underground. He connects it to Watson’s abduction and the date, and they work with hat boy to figure out where the car could possibly be…and uncover an unused tube station near parliament.

They rush to the Underground to find the bomb, break into a utility tunnel, Watson wants to call the police, Sherlock stops him. Eventually they make it to the car, get inside, Sherlock realizes the whole car is laced with explosives, and finds the detonator. As they debate what to do, the bad guy activates the bomb. “Use your mind palace!” Tehehe.

Great scene here but Sherlock comes up empty. He checks out the device frantically, um…a little too frantically? Then apologizes to Watson, asking for forgiveness. The timer ticks down. He thinks it a trick, but he eventually does say he forgives him. Then he takes a breath, ready to die by bomb….

Flash.

Sherlock talks to a camera about his plan. Everything is revealed…everything comes together…. Sherlock believes Moriarty is dead, the plan set in motion on spot via a codeword to Mycroft. John is kept in place, the homeless network is ready. The conversation happens. "It’s just a trick, a magic trick." He jumps, falls into a movie-stunt airbag and like clockwork, everything is moved so Watson only sees what Sherlock wants him to. Molly is watching. Watson moves. Sherlock lands. Molly dumps the fake body. Watson is hit. Body and Sherlock switch. Then some window dressing and the squash ball, of course…and there you have it! Or…do you? Anderson is disappointed, but Sherlock elaborates and fills in some holes. It’s funny, and it works for me. I’m good.

Sherlock then digs into Anderson about the fake crime scene he, Molly and Lestrade were on earlier but lets him off the hook. Giggle.

Flash.

Back to the tube car. Watson is ready to die. Sherlock starts laughing. He found the switch on the bomb earlier. And he called the police.

“I’m definitely going to kill you.”

“Oh, please killing me, that’s so two years ago.”

The bad guy is arrested. Mycroft tries to recruit Sherlock to take over at Les Mis. Press is waiting outside Baker Street. In the living room, Mary, Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade are talking about the wedding. Molly shows up with Tomlock, her Sherlock-cloned boyfriend. Everyone notices, says nothing. Is it just me or does it seem like Lestrade is crushing on Molly?

Outside the flat, Watson wants to know why he was kidnapped. Sherlock’s unsure. He heads downstairs, puts on his cape coat. Watson asks how he did it. Sherlock doesn’t quite answer. They have a moment and finally, they’re back. Sherlock dons his deerstalker, goes outside, and talks to the press.

But wait, we fade out then in on a dusty looking collection of books, statues, antiques and other items. A man sits in front of screens, watching the rescue of Watson from the bonfire. Mary’s scream of “John” and Sherlock removing Watson is played on a loop as the villain looks on.

I have to say my favorite part is the opening scene and the reunion, but more great scenes are coming up and it's one hell of a ride.

Did you watch? What did you think?