Showing posts with label guest post. Show all posts
Showing posts with label guest post. Show all posts

Wednesday, November 5, 2014

Eternal: A Guest Post from CC Hunter


All her life, Della's secret powers have made her feel separated from her human family. Now, she's where she belongs, at Shadow Falls. With the help of her best friends Kylie and Miranda, she’ll try to prove herself in the paranormal world as an investigator—all the while trying to figure out her own heart. Should she chose Chase, a powerful vampire with whom she shares a special bond? Or Steve, the hot shapeshifter whose kisses make her weak in the knees? When a person with dark connection to her past shows up, it’ll help her decide which guy to choose–and make her question everything she knows about herself. 

From bestselling author C.C. Hunter comes Eternal—a must-read for fans of the Shadow Falls series—and the sequel to Reborn.


Three Tips for Writing a Young Adult Paranormal Series

1.       It doesn’t matter if you are writing vampires, shape-shifters, or hunchback dragons, if you are writing for teens you need to get in touch with your inner teen. 

I didn’t set out to write young adult novels.  I was dragged here kicking and screaming.  LOL.  I was writing humorous romantic suspense novels, when I was approached to write a YA series.  You see, it had been quite a few years since I’d been a teen.  Did I know what was important to today’s teens?  Did I know what they wanted, what they feared, what made them laugh?  I worried I’d fail at trying to write from a teen’s perspective.  So the first thing I did was take a stroll down memory lane.  It wasn’t a walk in the park either.  You see, I didn’t have what I would call the ideal teenage life.  It wasn’t until midway through that mental journey that I realized this was going to work in my favor.  I decided right then and there to plagiarize.  From my own life, of course.   Along this path, I realized that everything that had been important to me as a teen was still relevant to teens today.  As a young adult I’d dealt with sex, alcohol, drugs, and negative self-esteem.  These issues are still what our teens deal with today.  And to write a novel that will resonate with teens, you need to be able to remember how you related, feared, longed for and dealt with those four things. 

2.       Don’t attempt to write a message to the young people. 

It’s important to remember that your job as a novelist is to entertain.  Definitely not to preach.  Not to teach, or even to inspire.  Now, before you start getting your backs up, let me explain.   Preaching is out.  Completely.  Today’s teens do not want to preached at.  Nor do they read novels to be taught something.  They read text books to be taught.  They don’t pick up fictional books to be inspired to be a better person.  They read to be entertained. 

That said, books can be fabulous tools for teens to learn from and can offer tons of inspiration.  But it’s not you who should do this.  It’s your characters.  Whatever problems your characters face and the lessons they learn from them will offer an opportunity for the reader to learn as well.  Whatever inspires your character is a chance to inspire your reader.   Almost all story characters have arcs.  They will grow within a book’s lifespan.  Find your character’s arc, show them struggling to overcome hurdles, show their growth.  And while your readers turn those pages, enthralled with your story, your book will have offered them not only entertainment, but something that may help them as they journey through their own lives.

3.       Never give up!

You have to love to write.  You have to love to learn.  The journey from unpublished author to published author can be difficult.  More difficult for some than others.  Each of us starts this journey with our strengths and weaknesses.   Some writers were born knowing what a dangling participle is.  Some are comma impaired and terrible spellers.  Some are natural storytellers.  Some have learned pacing and conflict just from reading.   Others have read all their life and still need to learn the tricks of the trade.  The truth is, more important than what you know is your willingness to learn.  And how long you are willing to persevere.  

Being dyslexic, I struggled with the written word all my life—still do. The day I decided to become a writer, I had to learn to spell it.   If I had any natural talent, it was storytelling, but it was a long road from there to finishing a rough draft.  It was ten years from the time I started writing to the time I published my first book.  That might sound tough, but it got tougher.  It was thirteen more years before my second book was sold. Some people think of me as an overnight success, and I want to ask them, “Exactly what night was that in those twenty-three years that it happened?”  


It was not one night.  It was a journey.  As rejections rolled in, and I have thousands of them, it would have been easy to give up.  But being a writer was my dream.  I was willing to take this journey even knowing there were no guarantees.  Why?  Because I loved writing.  And that is my parting advice.  Write because you love it.  There is nothing wrong with working toward publication and financial gain.  But if that had been the reason I was writing, I don’t think I’d have hung in there for twenty-three years.  

Monday, February 24, 2014

The Convenience of Lies: A Visit with Kimberly Castillo


“It doesn't matter if it's right or wrong. All that matters is if you can. If you can do something, what difference does it make?"

Based on a true story, The Convenience of Lies is a novel that keeps readers up past midnight with its story of friendship, mystery, crime, sex, and betrayal. Set in a suburban town, this story is told through the eyes of a high school junior, Mackenzie, who describes her crush on a "bad boy," Ramon and her relationship with her best friend, Kira. During the course of the story, Mackenzie does her best to attract the affections of Ramon while her friendship with Kira evolves. Eventually, the different characters' property starts getting vandalized and a mystery develops as Mackenzie and Kira try to get to the bottom of who is behind the vandalism.

Links:





Setting Up A Book Signing as an Indie Author

When The Convenience of Lies was released, I wanted to have a book signing soon thereafter to create some buzz about my book. I would say that one reason why it’s nice to be traditionally published is because you will have a publicist helping you do things like schedule book signings at your local Barns and Noble and publicize your event. When you’re an indie author, you have to do all of this yourself.

In this blog I’ll tell you how I went about scheduling my first book signing…

I have to admit I felt a tad daunted by this task because I needed to find a professional venue in which I could hold this book signing. As many sources recommended, I started with asking my local private bookstores if they would be interested in hosting my book signing. I didn’t have terribly good luck with this route because many of these bookstores are hesitant to host self-published novels. And so next I approached some of the local privately owned businesses in my area... café’s and such. While I didn’t have any takers in this department, I still think this is a possibility indie writers could consider exploring.

Finally, it dawned on me that I could ask local libraries to host my book signing. In exploring this option, I realized that the libraries that should be targeted for a book signing event are private libraries. Public libraries have their hands tied a bit with rules prohibiting book sales within the venue. (But as an aside, making a relationship with your public library may not be a bad idea. You can schedule speaking events to promote your book). I was surprised with how many private libraries were in my area, and especially excited when the first one I contacted was eager to host my book signing.

In order to get my book signing approved at the library, the librarian had to read my novel to make sure it was “acceptable.” In that there was no “white supremacy” material in it or something of that nature. I was more than enthusiastic to provide her with a free copy of the book to read.

Once we settled on a date, the librarian and I went to work promoting my event. She submitted a press release to the local newspaper and also created fliers that she hung all around the library. She gave me some of the fliers that I distributed as well. I also contacted all of the English teachers in the local schools and asked them to tell their students about my event. Again, I was met with wild enthusiasm. Some of the teachers asked to read a copy of the book before promoting my event in their classrooms… which I gladly provided for free. Other teachers actually offered extra credit to their students if they would attend my event.

The results exceeded my wildest expectations. Over 100 people showed up for my book signing. People were actually standing at the back of the library’s conference room because they ran out of space to sit.  I gave a talk about my book, my writing process, and read a review of my book as well as an excerpt. Afterwards I nearly sold out of copies of the novel… I only had one left!


One suggestion I would make is that if you do have a book signing event, make sure it’s documented! Have the event filmed and photographed. After the event was over, I posted these materials to my facebook, blog, twitter, and my book’s website. You can check out the video for my event here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JpGiHqkRFc0 



About the author:

Kimberly Castillo wrote the first version of The Convenience of Lies when she was a teenager. After studying the process of storytelling at California State University Northridge, where she earned her Bachelor's degree in film production, she revisited this project to complete the story. The Convenience of Lies is her debut novel.

Kimberly is currently studying to be a doctor of optometry at Western University of Health Sciences and lives in Southern California with her husband and three cats.

Friday, May 17, 2013

When It's Least Expected: Perfect Timing Series #1 by Heather Van Fleet



Moving on after a tragedy can be impossible – especially when you’ve been dealing with those tragedies for over two years. But it’s her senior year, and Harley Anderson is more than ready to do just that, even though the skeletons in her closet can’t exactly be hidden.
Enter Mason Daniel, the egotistical, sexy, surfer boy from California – a boy with his own hidden demons, and even bigger secret agenda.
Mason isn’t right for Harley. He knows this better than anyone. He’s the epitome of a runner–a guy who takes what he can get, only to split a short while later. But he can’t deny the emotions that Harley brings out of him, so he’s going to break his rules for once.
He should have known what it would lead to… Two kindred souls – both lost and then found. Will they fail, once again, in their search for contentment and happiness, or will they finally find true love, when it’s least expected?


Guest Post: 

Music and writing . . . two things that I honestly never put together when I first started out as an author.
For one, I found the combination to be too distracting for this too easily distracted lady. J  Every time I’d sit down and slip in my ear buds, I’d start tapping my toes or even breaking out into song. (Which is actually very normal for me by the way, so no worries) Then the next thing I know, I’d actually be typing the words I was singing out loud, right there in the middle of my books.
Yeah, definitely not a good thing. . .
But one day the two things just started to merge – going hand in hand with one another like they’d always belonged together. And it’s a good thing this happened too because music has seriously influenced me like no other throughout this entire writing process.
I, like many other authors out there, created a playlist while writing WILE – a twenty-three track playlist actually. I would literally listen to these songs on a loop, over and over and over again. Some I’d play more than others of course, especially when I needed my characters to get a little extra mushy. (Which was quite a lot if I’m being honest here J)
So today, for the first time, I’ve decide to share some of that list with you, and talk about when and why I used the songs that stuck with me more than others.
So here goes nothing. . .
1.       I won’t Let Go by Rascal Flatts
This was by far the most important song to me while I wrote When It’s Least Expected. It’s about hope, healing, and never letting someone else fall (emotional wise that is) even when you feel like falling into a sort of darkness yourself.
2.       Disaster by JoJo 
When I first started to write When It’s Least Expected, this song was always on the radio. It really reminded me of my heroine Harley in a lot of ways too. She always fights for the good in life because she’s so fearful of what the bad will be.
3.       Let’s Stay Together by Al Green
Why such an old school artist and song you ask? Well, I guess you could say that I’ve always loved it for one. It’s a classic and it makes me smile and swoon all at the same time. And when I wrote a certain scene in WILE, I had this image of Mason getting goofy while singing it to Harley. But apparently he didn’t want to get goofy – he wanted to get swoony – and that scene actually turned into a pivotal moment for the pair.
And believe it or not, I still get giddy thinking about it.
4.       A Thousand Years by Christina Perry
This song . . . sigh . . . talk about the ultimate love song. I’ve been listening to it on repeat since it first appeared on a certain mega book/movie soundtrack – therefore I now had to add it to my playlist. But let me tell you, it was during the moments where I listened to this song that the tears really flew. Big, mega, sobbing tears. I really didn’t think I could get that emotional over my own book characters, but I did, and I wouldn’t change it for the world.
So there you have it, just an inkling of a sample of my super-secret play list. What do you guys think?
Tell me your favorite book, and what song you would pair it with, and I will give one random commenter an e-copy of When It’s Least Expected.

When It’s Least Expected buy Links:
Buy Links:
Amazon:  http://www.amazon.com/When-Its-Least-Expected-ebook/dp/B00CHT9SK0/ref=sr_sp-atf_title_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1366763086&sr=1-1&keywords=Heather+Van+Fleet
Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/when-its-least-expected-heather-van-fleet/1115183216?ean=2940016405445
  




About the Author:
Heather Van Fleet currently resides in northern Illinois, with her three daughters, Kelsey, Emma, and Isabella, and her fabulous hubby (and high school sweetheart) Chris, with whom she’s been blissfully married to now for ten plus years. She’s a stay at home mom by day, and an avid and completely obsessive writer and reader by night.

Sunday, May 12, 2013

Blood Hex: Erin Butler Virtual Book Tour



Two girls. Four centuries. One curse.  Isabella started it—all because a boy fell in love with her—but it ends with Sarah. Isabella and Thomas meet in secret during the witching hours while the  rest of the villagers hide behind locked doors. And even though Isabella's scared, she wants Thomas more. He'll protect her from the night, from his father who'll decide her future, and from the paranoia-fueled hunting parties taking away innocents. Centuries later, seventeen-year old Sarah runs away to an aunt she never knew she had. Her dad? Dead. Her mother? A liar. She wants the memories of a father she never got, but instead, discovers her father's death wasn’t innocent. Everyone—the Wiccans, the townies, even her quasi-boyfriend—are hiding something. The secret the history-rich town will kill to keep entangles Sarah into a centuries  old witch curse.





About the author: 
Erin Butler lives in upstate New York where winter is her arch nemesis. She prefers to spend her time indoors reading and writing, but ventures out for chocolate, sunshine, and to perform her librarian duties at a local library. She lives with her very understanding husband, a stepson, and doggie BFF, Maxie. Erin’s dreams of becoming an author started in Kindergarten when she wrote her first story about witches, the eloquently titled, six-sentence page-turner, “The Three Witches”. Now, she likes to write longer works for teens in many different genres.



Excerpt:
The lights around the park dimmed. I twisted toward the makeshift stage again. Forty feet away, a figure stood tall, elevated by the 2x4’s that lay out on the grass only a few hours ago. A hooded black robe disguised the guy, not that I would know who he was anyway. The dark night, the material folding over his head, made him look like a faceless grim reaper. It was dusk and getting darker, the pink deepening to a rose red.

The robed figure lifted his hand, smooth, indifferent, a marionette being played with. His hand made a wide, sweeping horizontal arc, pointing into the faces of everybody.

My stomach twisted and turned into knots. Drake bumped into my shoulder and held out a drink as he sat down. Then, the figure yanked his hands in the air and a big blaze of fire erupted from the space between the stage and the audience. I jumped, deftly managing to spill half my soda. I barely noticed.

Flames shot up, reaching toward the night. The smell of gasoline used for ignition hung in the air. A few people laughed behind me. Drake even joined in. “Gotcha,” he said, leaning over, whispering in my ear. With him so close, the cologne clinging to his long, black robe smothered the wood smoke that had filled my nostrils.

I peered at him. He turned away and pulled his hood up. He was the exact match of the person on stage.

I sat with a wizard. I talked with a wizard.

I made fun of people for things like this.

Still, I inched closer to him. The fire, the reddish sky, the grim reaper, the witches, everything. It got to me. An eerie feeling tangled itself within every thought, like something hidden watched from just beyond sight.

On the stage, the figure in the dark cloak threw back the hood. The fire glow cast the face in shadows, an ever-changing kaleidoscope of orange, red, and black. The speakers thumped, thumped, thumped as the black hooded figure tapped the front of the microphone. The hollow sound echoed throughout the open park and bounced off the surrounding buildings. No one talked. They barely even moved. Only the slight ripple of the crowd as everyone inclined their heads and inched forward, awe-struck.

The wind picked up, fueling the flames. The blazed erupted, flaring up, lighting the figure's face. I gasped.

The grim reaper wasn’t a guy. It was Rose.

Drake peeked over at me, his eyebrows knit together. “You okay?”

“That’s my aunt,” I whispered loud, still trying to comprehend it myself. “What is she doing up there?”

"She's the leader.”

"Huh?" Uneasiness squeezed my chest, like the time I went to see that stupid Ouija board movie with friends. They all laughed through the scary parts while I spent most of the movie with my heart trembling and one second away from closing my eyes. “Leader of what?”

“This.” Drake opened his arms wide and twisted his body, scanning the corners of the five-sided park. “She puts all this together.”

I took it all in. Giant banners announced “Adams Colonization”, eerie witch posters and mannequins with stringy green hair and large, red eyeballs stared back. The guards along the stage dressed in old brown suits and hats I guessed were supposed to be replicas of what the first settlers wore. The costumes reminded me of pilgrims. They stood at attention, faces impassible as they monitored the crowd. The picture sank into my brain, this parallel reality where past met present in a jumbled mesh.

Drake leaned into me again. “Sorry. I should have told you.”

No wonder why she said she was too busy to hang out with me. I snuck forward a little, caught up in the surprise appearance of Rose. The arm that had been touching Drake instantly chilled. He was so nice. And cute. But the reason why I came here was up on that stage.

Rose’s voice rang out, low and seductive. “On this day in 1610, our ancestors inhabited a foreign land. Today, we call that piece of land Adams, Virginia.” Scattered applause swelled through the park. “Our ancestors brought with them superstition…and fear from England. Men and women, children—all terrified of one thing.” Rose's hypnotic voice was mesmerizing and I leaned forward even more. “Witches.” The stare of an old, wise woman lingered over everybody and when her eyes met mine, a pool of black reflected the licking orange flames.

 “They fled here, terrified of the supernatural. They hoped to start a new life. One without the constant paranoia. They failed. Our ancestors lived in complete, maddening, unrelenting fear their entire lives. Are we like them?” Audible no's and descending grunts rose from the crowd. “No. We're not.” Her voice pitched higher, and louder. “Today, we embrace our history. Today, we stare the supernatural in the face and laugh at it.” Loud cheers erupted from every corner of the park and Rose shouted over them, “Today, we celebrate!”

Rose motioned to the side of the reaching flames. Two men in the ugly brown trousers and jackets nodded. “During this opening ceremony, we will conquer fear as they did back in the old days.” The men pulled at ropes, hoisting a cross into the air. Mounted to the cross beam was the body of a woman, her mouth agape in horror.

I drew in a sharp breath. I felt Drake move next to me so I turned my gaze on him. A sly smile graced his face. He put his arm around me, pulling me closer. “Are you scared?” he whispered.

I couldn't speak. These people were freakin' crazy. My eyes darted through the crowd, looking for a policeman—somebody—who might stop this.

“Don't worry. We always do this on opening night,” Drake said, pulling me even closer, rubbing my shoulder with his hand.

I wanted to scream at him to do something, to help the poor woman. He only sat smiling, eyes bright with anticipation. I knocked his hand off me and pulled away, but before I could wiggle free of Drake's arms and run to the fire pit, the cotton clothes the woman wore caught fire from the reaching flames underneath. My breath clogged my throat. I didn't know whether to scream first, or cry.

The flames spread fast. The waistline already edged with black char before the fire incinerated it. Dark gray smoke furled over the helpless woman and puffed up toward the blood red sky.

 Guest Post:
Day in the life of…me!

6am – The alarm goes off and my husband hits snooze about five billion times.

6:30am – We actually get up and we do all those things necessary that don’t make us miscreants of society. Though sometimes I put pajamas back on, but hey, they’re clean.

7am – My husband leaves for work and I start writing. Sometimes I just pretend to write. It depends on how the whole writing thing is going actually. I usually bring up my Word doc, but then also Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads, or whatever else I can use to waste time market. (At least, that’s what I tell my husband.)

9am – I have a little chat with myself—a pep talk you might say—and really buckle down and start writing. I can write pretty fast when I’m into a story so all the goofing around doesn’t really hurt me. The most I’ve ever written in a day is 12,000 words, but I would say a good day for me is 5,000 – 6,000. However, there are still some days where I just stare at that stupid blinking cursor and wish I could reach through my laptop and tear its mocking heart out.

11am – noon – I eat lunch somewhere around here. It depends on if I have to work my awesome day job. (Librarian, FTW!)

Noon – If I don’t have to work, I start writing again. And I write, and I write, and I pretend to write some more until my husband gets home.

1pm – If I have to work, I’m off saving the world one reluctant reader at a time.

5pm – We eat dinner. My husband asks how my day went and sometimes I’ll blabber on and on until his eyes glaze over and then other times I just stare and say, “Don’t. Even. Ask.” Sometimes I’ll ask him his opinion when I’m stuck on a plot point and he’ll give it, but then we end up arguing because I think his response is lame or it just won’t work. Then he’ll say, “Why did you ask then?” And I always wonder why I did. I never learn. (Sometimes, he actually says something that makes sense, but shh, that’s our little secret.)

7pm – 10pm – We watch our shows: Bones, The Voice, Ghost Hunters, Trip Flip, Face Off, the History Channel, the Travel Channel, and I make him watch The Vampire Diaries, Pretty Little Liars, and Chicago Fire. He thinks I’m addicted to TV…and I probably am, but I will never admit it to him.

10pm – I am so not a morning person when I don’t get sleep. 10 is my strict bedtime. Any later and I’ll be a complete moody zombie the next day.

Thanks Erin for stopping by the blog today! I can't wait to start reading Blood Hex!


Monday, October 29, 2012

Mirror of Shadows Virtual Tour



Mirror of Shadows
T. Lynne Tolles

Genre: Young Adult Paranormal

Publisher: Troll Publishing

ISBN: 978-1478398073
ASIN: 1478398078

Number of pages:  200
Word Count: 51,376

Book Description:

Ella McKaye returns home for her grandmother's funeral to find she's inherited a ton of money and a run down mansion she never knew existed, called Grey Manor. Her greedy mother is appalled when the will stipulates specifically that Ella can't give her any of the inheritance.  She quickly throws Ella out of her home forcing her to take up immediate residence in the spooky old mansion.

Within minutes of entering her new home she has a strange interaction with a creepy old mirror in the main hallway and the ghostly inhabitants of the past get more and more agitated the longer Ella's there. Nearly fatal back to back accidents make Ella start to wonder if she's angered some ghost or if there is something more sinister at work.

Will Ella unravel the deadly mystery before she becomes a ghost herself? Or will fate take another one of the Grey ancestors to the grave.

Paperback-  Amazon    Barnes and Noble   Author site

Hardback-  Lulu   Author site 




Guest Post:


Warm sunny days met with chilly evening, and gusts of wind that release the once clinging leaves into a lilt and tumble dance to the ground tells us we have entered into the season of fall. Depending on where you live the changes in foliage can be a grand display of vivid yellows, oranges and reds that would make an artist cry with delight, or a less impressive brown with with some yellows and reds. Either way, its a beautiful time of year.

Those of us who are not sun goddesses, but more a touch of vampire, relish this season and raise a toast in good riddance to the hot temps of summer. If you hadn't guessed, I am one of those people. I can get sunburned, fully clothed, under an umbrella, and slathered in 70SPF, looking much like a boiled lobster. Along with the entrance of fall, comes my favorite holiday of the year - Halloween. For a person who is more a big kid than an adult, Halloween allows me to be myself for one day, without the "don't make eye contact" look I usually get when I wear my favorite Scooby-doo t-shirt as my cell phone rings the theme from Dudley Do-Right when my husband calls.

Yes Halloween is something I look forward to every year. Much to my husband's dismay, I start hunting for my next amazing addition to my ever growing collection of decorations before summer even begins (the cool things always sell out quickly). Now I'm not talking cheesy stuff, but items that other Halloween enthusiasts say, "Ooooh! I want one of those." Like one year I spent two months putting together a leather hand bound Book of Shadows with sections like "Spells and Charms", "Creatures of Light", "Potions and tinctures" etc. Last year's handy work were hand made black candles I made from PVC, black glue (glue gun glue) and battery operated tea lights that insert up top. I had black glue everywhere, but they came out amazing and they got lots of "oohs and awes".

I suppose I owe a debt of gratitude to the holiday, as it brings out my creativity in many different ways, and gears me up for the holidays and another possible book. Now you may not enjoy Halloween or fall as much as I do, but I hope that this blog post at least has you thinking about all the possibilities fall has to offer you. It's the beginning of the holiday season in my house and that means family, food and good times. So I say to you, embrace this season and enjoy the smells of apple cider on a cold day, the crunch, crunch, crunch of crumbling leaves under your footfall, the feel of a kitten soft scarf on your neck and chin, while you wrap your arms around your family and friends in big warm bear hug. 

Short Excerpt:
It was a perfect day for a funeral, if there is such a thing—gloomy, gray, and cold. With steady tears of rain, the heavens seemed to be mourning along with the funeral guests. Though Ella stood strong as the pastor droned on, she would never be consolable for the loss of her beloved grandmother, Rose Grey McKaye. Ella had known for a while this day was coming as her grandmother combatted bouts of cancer, a stroke, and dementia, but all of that was not enough to prepare her for the overwhelming loss she now felt.
Ella heard no voices of condolences from those who one by one took her hand in sympathy. She only heard the rain tapping on the shiny mahogany casket covered in a blanket of chrysanthemums and peonies in front of her. Occasionally she would nod her head to the speaking sympathizer but she never took her eyes off of the coffin. Instead, she watched as a drop of water hung to the tip of a fern frond, gathering more volume until it could no longer hold on and dropped down the curved lid of the casket, and then meandered down the side stopping only for a moment by one of the carrying handles. It continued down to mingle with other drops at the base of the aluminum stand. It lingered and swelled until it could no longer resist the relentless tug of gravity and it fell to the fake green grass carpet laid out to disguise the recently excavated mound of dirt from the grave into which her grandmother would soon be lowered.
The long line of umbrella-toting guests passed before her then scattered among the graveyard to their warm, dry cars to go on with their lives. How odd, Ella thought, that time doesn’t stop for a moment to acknowledge the passing of one so loved. She felt sure that she hadn’t taken a breath since she had received the call two days before, notifying her that her grandmother had died. How would she ever survive life without her grandmother?
Ella’s childhood had been hard and she’d grown up fast and insecure in herself. The only happy memories she’d had as a child were in those blessed, short-lived visits to Grandma Rose’s house where Ella knew without a doubt she was welcome, safe, and loved.
Ella’s mother had not been a bad person, but Ella had learned at an early age that she was an anchor to her mother’s freedom. Patricia had been widowed when Ella was a toddler. She had no family of her own to speak of, and found herself a single mother with no job and no real skills. First the parade of men came, none of which ever seemed to measure up to her late husband, and then came the drugs which made the unhappy, lonely woman lost and unstable. Needless to say, this brought about a rather turbulent life for Ella’s early years.
A warm hand touched Ella from behind, guiding her away from the men now lowering the casket into its new home. They cleared away the fake grass carpet, revealing the reality and finality of what was happening. Goodbye Grandma Rose, Ella said without speaking. I love you so...and the car door shut on Ella’s words and pulled away from the curb as its wipers slapped the sides of the windshield with a squeaky but constant beat.







About the Author:

T. Lynne Tolles is a lifelong avid reader of all things paranormal and now is a writer of young adult paranormal romances for readers 15 to 115. She grew up in the sunny California San Francisco bay area. She's the mother of two, wife to one and pet mom to three cats and Newfie dog.

Blood of a Werewolf is the first of five books in a series called, the Blood Series. Other titles include Somber Island and Mirror of Shadows - both unrelated to the series.