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Wednesday, July 27, 2011

Sneak peek at the beginning of "The Legacy", Birthrights sequel

I was born in a world where monsters are real, that in the security of one’s room, evil lurks and there is no escaping it, for they watch and wait for their next kill.



The brightness of the blood that pooled around Eldon’s head in the snow looked like a halo, a devils halo. I did not mourn, why should I, the man wanted me dead, wanted Kane dead and thought that he had done so, but we surprised him, the fool. No, I didn’t mourn, I reveled in it.

I looked at Kane, half of me celebrated the other knew what had to be done, my Birthright. I knew who and what I was, somewhat, but what I didn’t know needed to found out. So much of my life was held from me and I still needed to know more, a lot more. I was a Rosewood, at least part of me was. I felt deep down that the mother I had always known, grew to love and missed, was not my true mother. How do I know this? I’m not exactly sure myself, something inside of me, something I sensed, an innate feeling that I can’t explain and that’s where Kane came into play.


This is a book that I plan on taking the reader into the past, as well as, into the future, for Candra's life is still a mystery and as she pursues her birthright, she encounters forces sometimes stronger than herself or Kane.

Full of action, mystery, suspence and cliff hangers that will keep you wanting more..."Do you trust me?" as Kane would say.

Monday, July 25, 2011

Abandoned

Abandoned and forgotten, that is what I was. Born like any other child, to two parents who I thought loved me, but as fate would have it, discarded me like old rubbish. Why you ask, because I was different, not to their liking, whatever that was. I had red hair, a tangle mess of curls, skinny, very pale and striking green eyes that would make the most expensive emerald shame. Sound intriguing? More pitiful if you ask me or better yet, ask them.

I lived in alleyways, abandoned buildings and sometimes in the fields under trees, which was my favorite place. There I could look up into their canopy and visual a world so beautiful. A world where unimaginable things lived, fairies, flowers of every make, trees with blossoms that perfumed the air so lusciously and people who loved me for who I was and not what I looked like. Then, at night, when the sky, black as ink, gave way to a host of diamonds that sparkled I would make wishes on as many as I could count, each one different and each one equally as important as the next. I still wait for one of them to come true and I knew that day would come, eventually.

It had started to snow and I being still young and in my youthful age of 12, caught myself running about, catching snowflakes on my tongue, smiling and not caring how cold I was or how hungry I had become. I lived for that moment only and it was glorious. Never have I been so happy. When it died down, so did I and then my stomach ached, ached for nourishment.

I was miles away from any town or city, and the thought of having to trek to find a place where food was discarded…I humored at what I had thought, discarded, so much like me and yet, it was worth more than I or was it? I walked, shivering, for all I wore was a torn woolen sweater, again, discarded in a dumpster and shoes that were also thrown out by someone. Someone whose parents bought them new ones surely, I wondered about my parents. Did they miss me? Did they ever think about me? I doubt it not, I was never loved. I wanted to be loved.

I walked for what seemed like miles and came upon a small farm town. People stared at me, their disgust shown in their faces, clutching their children and holding them close, as if I were a leper. I knew what that word meant. How you say? I really don’t remember, it seemed familiar to me. Anyway, lepers were people who were discarded, to live far away from everyone else. No one wanted them…just like me. I just looked at them and felt sorry for their stupidity and continued on.

Scouring garbage cans, dumpsters, I found little food, most of it spoiled and rank, but sometimes luck would hold out and I found something that wasn’t so bad and gobbled it up, only to throw it up later.

Did you know that churches were opened to anyone who wanted to come in and pray? There are, I’ve gone in them myself. They made me feel welcomed, like I belonged. I don’t how that could be, but something in the air just spoke to me. Quietly I’d walk to the very front and sit down and just feel a pray. I never knew what to say or ask for and I gathered it has to be like the wishes I make on the stars at night. So, looking at the poor man, on that tree, dead and wish away, but I didn’t see how someone, who was dead for all purposes, was going to help me, but just talking to someone, helped. He was like me I suppose, don’t know really, just a feeling, but he was luckier than me. People always came in here to talk to him; no one did that for me.

After having said what I wanted I would thank him and bow…I saw someone else do it, so I thought that was the proper thing, I felt silly. Then, back outside, where it was unfriendly and cold. As I went back out into the meadows, far from everyone, in search of a place to rest, I came across an old stone house. To anyone if would look scary, but to me it was shelter. So, I walked up to its windows, now broken, and peered in. Empty, as I thought, dirty and lonely, but I needed warmth or something to get me out of the elements, so I went in. It was strange, the musty smell of dust and mildew hung loftily in the air, but I saw the fireplace and for the first time in a long time, I smiled. There on the mantle were matches and wood on the hearth. One of my wishes had come true.

Within fifteen minutes a blazing fire was warming my very toes and I couldn’t help but sit there with a smile on my face and thought life was good now. Then a knock came on the door. Petrified, wondering who’d be knocking on a door, of a house that was abandoned? I sat there looking at the door, waited on baited breath. The knob, started to turn, slowly, cautiously then…click. My heart jumped at the sound. I wanted to hide, but where? I saw a closet and scampered quietly toward it and went inside. I sat down, there in the dark, and kept as still as I could, as footsteps came into the room.

I watched the light that was peeking underneath my closed door and waited for shadows of that person to show, but as the footsteps got closer, I saw nothing. I felt scared and I felt like I was not safe. Suddenly, the wall behind my back was no longer there, I gasped as hands, or so I assumed grabbed me and pulled me into the abyss, no more to be seen…nor heard.

“Welcome to my hiding place little one…” then silence.

Saturday, July 23, 2011

Birthrights paperback cover!!!

Site Trail

http://www.sitetrail.com/vamplit.com

I was looking on Google for my novel, and my name just to see what I had going. I came across this link and was amazed at the information it gave me on our site Vamplit.com. I was also shocked and surprised at my book, Birthright and my name in the "Content Analysis" section and it stated... "Out of the 1,211 unique keywords found on vamplit.com, "birthright" was the most dense."


Vamplit.com's home page is 106179 bytes in size. It has 53 (64% have "alt" attribute). Out of the 1,211 unique keywords found on vamplit.com, "birthright" was the most dense.
Title
VAMPLIT BLOG

Meta Description
Not available

Meta Keywords
Not available

Page Size
106.18 KB

Images
42 JPG, 0 GIF, 10 PNG
34 alt tags, 7 title tags
50 internal, 3 external
53 total

Keyword Density

birthright0.74%
sue mydliak0.74%
carole gill0.66%
grace mahoney0.58%
blog0.58%
howard0.58%
weeks horrorchat0.5%
issue fridayflash read0.5%
hosts humpday horrorchata0.41%
vamplit publishing hosts0.41%

I don't know how great that is, but I was impressed at the percentage! LOL!

Thursday, July 21, 2011

Plight

A house stands on the hillside, where trees sway in the wind as if in battle and whose fight is lost against its only enemy.

White, with dirt, smudged in its creases and whose windows, dull, let the faintest of light seep in, there I sit…alone. No joy has fed me happily and yet, in vain, I search till I no longer can bare its emptiness no more. It is a battle that I now know will never be won.

Hours on end, with curtains shut tight, dulling the pain that is felt deep inside, the sound of clicks and taps fill the void of where I sit. My eyes, squint at the light from which I look upon, where dreams are hopefully met, challenged and sometimes found. Most not though, the dreams that have been wedded into my brain, that are so fulfilling, never seem to come and I am brought back to my reality, defeated once more.

No, this house is not welcoming, it is not even loved. For every day that I wake, I shudder to think what I will be faced with again and wonder, will I endure it? Only time will tell.

They say that good things come to those who wait, this is not so, for I have waited what seems to me a lifetime and yet it fools me constantly. Laughing at my downfall, and when unnoticed, it rears its ugly face again when I persevere, thinking that I have a chance, just maybe. It is merciless.

Ah, I will not give up though. I know, that with all that I have done, all the beauty I have created, will one day shine more brightly than the sun itself, then, I will have found my peace.

Friday, July 15, 2011

Lenny

The night was long, too long and the fact that I couldn’t concentrate on anything made it even worse.

“Hey honey, come here!”

I rolled my eyes as I looked to see where the gruff voice came from. It was a regular, one that I dreaded every time I worked and it didn’t help that he was always there on my shift. God, I loathed the man. He was in his late 40’s early 50’s, beer belly, wild unkempt hair; flannel shirt that screamed red neck and jeans that had seen better days. The fact was, if he wasn’t so bloody messy and slightly overweight, he may have been quite good looking in his day, as it was, he wasn’t now, nor was he ever planning on improving his looks.

I slowly made my way toward him. His eyes raked me over, like I was a meal ready to be devoured. My stomach lurched at the very thought of what he might be imagining and I, visualizing him, naked. Pure nightmare, and quickly as it came to mind, it left.

“Yes, what is it that you want?” I knew that as soon as I finished my sentence, I’d get a repulsive reply back. How’d I know? When a man has saliva, oozing from his mouth, like a rabid dog, it’s a dead giveaway.

“Well, now let’s see…” he took hold of my apron hem and pulled me closer. “I’d like some of what you got under that skimpy little skirt of yours.” He eyed his buddies and snickered like a schoolboy who’d just saw a dirty picture.

I gingerly took hold of his sweaty wrist, and pried it off my clothing. “Sorry luv, but that’s not on the menu tonight, however, if you wanted some action, I saw a cute poochie, outside, in heat needing much attention.

The roar of laughter from his friends and the shoving echoed in the dark, musty room.

He laughed it off, but I could tell he wasn’t too happy with neither me, nor my come back. “You are the spunky one; I like that in a woman such as yourself. Yeah, I’d give you a nice ride I would. What’d ya say? Interested in a stud like me?”

Stud? You’ve got to be kidding me. Was this man delusional or was he really serious. By the looks of his face, I’d say he believe himself to be just that.

“If you aren’t ordering any food, or drink, then you’re wasting my time and yours, because I’m not interested. “ I turned to walk back to my post when he grabbed my apron strings, stopping me suddenly.

“I don’t take no lightly sugar and I ain’t gonna start. So, let’s you and me head off to a room I have paid for and have us a real good time.” He pulled me back into his body, as his burly arms came around my waist. He was all arms and hands, groping everywhere he could and damn if he wasn’t ready. His erection, butting up against my rear, pissed me off.

I don’t mind an exhibition, but only when I call for it and on my terms. His friends, drooling as bad as he was, snickered and poked one another as they watched him get his jollies off me, good, they want a show I’ll give them one. I had my work shoes on, the ones that had the hardest wooden heel money could buy and backed kicked him right in the groin as hard as I could. A painful moan came tumbling out as he fell to the floor holding himself.

I looked at his buddies, no one said a word.

I walked away, untying my apron and handing it to Hank. “If Mr. Dearing wants to know where the hell I’d gone too, tell him I just quit.” And stormed out into the night or I should say morning, because it was 2a.m.

I wanted to get home and wash myself with antiseptic. The odor that my overzealous customer left on me was more than I could handle. Old, unwashed clothing with just a hint of sweat caked my skin, it was all I could do to keep from vomiting right there on the street. I hurried my steps till I finally reached my apartment, and there waiting for me was Arch. My pulse raced as thoughts of what news he had to tell me filtered into my head. As I neared his presence didn’t exude something good, in fact, I sensed something bad.

Out of breath and nervous as all hell I asked, “From the looks of things, your news isn’t good.”

“No, it’s not.”

I immediately felt the world tumble around me. Arch caught me before I hit the ground.
“Oh God, tell me he’s not dead, anything but that please. I knew I should have just ignored work and looked for him myself. It’s my entire fault…my fault.” I collapsed to the ground crying.

“Hadley, he’s not dead, at least not yet.”

Did I hear him correct or was it just my imagination. “Not dead? You sure? How do you know…and why haven’t you gotten him then?”

“Hadley, the reason why I don’t have him is that I can’t get to him. He is in a place that is highly guarded with security cameras.

I got up. “What kind of place is this that they have security cameras and for that matter, where is it?”

“It’s on the East side of town, by the river, in an old abandoned warehouse.”

“We’ve got to go there, now, before it’s too late! You have a vehicle?”

“It’s around back in the parking lot, but it needs gas.”

I looked at him dumbfounded. “Are you serious? You’ve got a job don’t you?”

“Well, yeah, but…”

“I don’t want to hear it, let’s just get going. Do you have money to get gas?” I was dealing with an irresponsible adult, great, just what I needed.”

“No.”

Ogripbar

Like a serpent who quietly slithers on the ground
Quietly
You strike without cause or reason
Only to feed your need on your prey…me
And then
Unfelt
Lives on
Whilst I lay there bleeding
Dying
Wondering why you have forsaken me
You who were my friend
You who are that very serpent whose eyes
Uncaring
Ignore the pleas I hath spoken
And yet
Nothing
With eyes seeking, imploring the very depths
Of your soul ask…
Why?

Monday, July 11, 2011

Birthright in paperback!

It'll soon be here, Birthright in paperback. I can't believe it, my dream comes true and so will all the book signings I plan on doing, not to mention all those who've been waiting for it to come out in paperback so that they can have an autographed copy. I have dream't of that happening for so long. I can't wait!

Seeing it on my kindle was cool, but having it in my hand, like a book, well, that's like the frosting on a cake. I am an author, a real, air breathing author, who set a goal to write a book and have it published. It's an awesome feeling it really is!

Friday, July 8, 2011

Summer Half off price for Birthright!

Use the code SSW50 at checkout
for 50% off during our
site-wide promotion!
(Offer good thru July 31, 2011)

Come on what are you waiting for? This book is one that will keep you going until the very end and then some! See whatever one has been claiming about this fast, but enticing story!

Thursday, July 7, 2011

Summer free reading!

Summer is the best time to sit down and relax with a good book! So, for my part in this relaxation I am offering a free eBook of my newly published novel, "Birthright". If you read Twilight and enjoyed it, Birthright is right up your alley!

So, why wait! Link: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/54200

Code: RU28T

End of freebe: July 18th

Happy Reading!

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

The story of Werewolf Imprinting began in the 1800's By Eric W Jepson

The Premortal Romance we tend to remember best in 2009 is the Douglas Stewart / Lex de Azevedo cheesefest, Saturday’s Warrior, but the tradition goes back much further than that.

Nephi Anderson started things off in 1898 with Added Upon, a book that at one time (at least in Nephi, Utah2) was given to every young woman to read. Added Upon was Anderson’s first book and by far his most popular—too bad, because it certainly isn’t his best—because it appeals to something deeply Mormon in us. It begins in the premortal realm and follows a boy and a girl from there, through mortality, to paradise, through the Millennium, and finally to exaltation.

Out for a premortal walk one day, Honan sees Delsa’s “sweet face” and is drawn to her immediately. When she sees him, a “pleased smile overspread[s] her face” and she explains that she had been making a “dream picture” of her ideal face when he arrived and that now her “dream face seem[s] to blend with [his].” Drawn together, they converse[… and] both faces [shine] with a soft, beautiful light. The joy within [...] too deep for words. [...] Instinctively, they [cling] to each other.”3

The story of Honan and Delsa (Rupert and Signe upon coming to Earth) thus becomes the prototypical Premortal Romance. They come to Earth, and when they meet, bond immediately. When Rupert first hears Signe’s voice, he is “spellbound” and she, noticing him, looks upon him “steadily.” One things leads to another and pretty soon they’re in heaven again, together forever.

It’s this mode of romantic relationship, popular in Mormon literature since Anderson came up with it, that Stephenie Meyer’s werewolves experience.

The most significant distinguishing trait of a Meyer werewolf is “imprinting,” the sudden and permanent formation of a mate relationship. Jacob, the novels’ preeminent werewolf, describes imprinting as an experience akin to gravity: “When you see her,” he says, “suddenly it’s not the earth holding you here anymore. She does. And nothing matters more than her.”4 Even Meyer’s human heroine, Bella, can recognize that an imprinted werewolf couple is “utterly right together, two puzzle pieces, shaped for each other exactly.” Through imprinting, Twilight’s werewolves find their “soul mates.”5 One party is bound to the other becoming the other’s “perfect match. Like he was designed for her alone.”6

The werewolves of the Twilight books never know when (or if) they will imprint on someone. Once they become a werewolf during adolescence, they may imprint at any time, and when they do, any prior relationship becomes unsustainable because an imprinted werewolf can never turn away from his or her imprintee. Sudden recognition that then lasts eternally? The Premortal Romance.

The very concept of a soul mate suggests that the question, “Whom shall I marry?” has but one correct response and that each person must live in fear of inflicting pain on others while seeking a fated, imprint-like experience. Spencer W. Kimball famously said (and his timing suggests he may have been responding to Saturday’s Warrior), “‘Soul mates are fiction and an illusion.”7 An illusion, a mirage leading one away from self-directed, agency-based mate-seeking and into a sort of romantic roulette in hopes of accidentally finding the one-and-only soul mate.

Indeed, a one-and-only soul mate, as demonstrated by Added Upon and Saturday’s Warrior, is never a matter of agency. In neither story is even the premortal falling-in-love shown to be a matter of choosing. It’s a matter of happening. And if such soul mates do exist, then President Kimball was wrong: soul mates aren’t fiction—agency is. The soul-mate conceit—the entire premortal romance—is in conflict with core Mormon doctrine.

So when the werewolf Leah—the one Sam rejected when he imprinted on Emily–wants to have her romantic choices made for her, Jacob rightly calls her on that desire, telepathically calling it “just another way of getting your choices taken away from you.” She parries that “Sam, Jared, Paul, Quil . . . don’t seem to mind,” to which Jacob replies, “None of them have a mind of their own.”8 Implying that, though they may be happy, it is at the cost of their personal freedom.

Jacob attempts to take control of his romantic interests when he leaves Bella to allow her to pursue another. But this use of his agency plunges Jacob into romantic agony, leading him to double back on his words to Leah and covet the agency-free imprinting process. “Seemed like maybe getting your choices taken away from you wasn’t the very worst thing in the world. Maybe feeling like this was the worst thing in the world,” he laments.9 And when imprinting finally does happen for Jacob and the imprintee’s mother takes issue, he can only protest, “You know it’s not something I can control” and “It wasn’t my idea” and “It was involuntary!”10 But, with his agency removed, he is finally happy. And, after all, isn’t happiness the object and design of our existence?11

Any attempt by the reader to resolve the apparent disconnect between agency and happiness requires a return to Meyer’s Mormon heritage and the climactic event in Mormonism’s premortal narrative. As Honan describes the conflict in Added Upon, the question was whether to “retain our agencies to choose . [...] [or] Without that privilege [...] cease to be intelligences, and become as inanimate things [...] [saved without] choice on our part.” This, according to Mormon understanding, was the central conflict of premortal life, and Meyer’s adaptation of the premortal romance for her werewolves revives the War in Heaven here in the mortal plane, showcasing the difficulties inherent in the premortal-romance formula, providing neither a “glimpse of past glories” nor an “atmosphere of peace and assurance” nor a sense of “why they’re here / [Nor] . . . who they really are.”12

Instead, Meyer’s werewolves are left with no comforts beyond those given them in relationships they did not choose for themselves. And Meyer doesn’t allow the question of agency to slip to the side with a manufactured premortal excuse. She has not forgotten that, in Mormon doctrine, agency “is the specific gift by which God made his children in his image and empowered them to grow to become like him through their own progression of choices.”13 The werewolves’ loss of agency in this matter suggests a stopped progression and complicates the pat conclusions presented in previous premortal romances. Speaking with Time Magazine, Meyer called “free will [...] a huge gift from God.” 14 By stripping it from her werewolves, by making their happiness dependent upon losing their freedom, she makes an artistic choice that resonates deeper with readers who understand the decidedly Mormon ethos upon which she made that choice.

Which is exactly we as Saints need to redouble our efforts to bring the gospel to these tortured souls. Just imagine the werewolves’ joy when you explain to them that they, like Rupert and Signe, like Julie and Todd, were not forced into love by the vagaries of nature, but encountered each other long ago, before the worlds were, as they sat in a heavenly counsel, surreptitiously holding hands as the creation of the world was planned.

Monday, July 4, 2011

from my kindle

I just had to try this out and what do you know...I can type a message orpost on my kindle. I am so amazed by this!