Friday, April 20, 2012
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Excerpt of Off Limits
Excerpt: Megan
I take my time getting home from school. I have lots to think about and I seriously don’t want to be interrogated by Mom. Not that she’s being mean when she asks me a ton of questions about my day, it’s just that sometimes I want to keep things to myself. Well, that’s not entirely true. If she knew half the stuff going on with me, she’d probably lock me in my room.
I unlock the door to our apartment and dump my backpack next to my shoes by the mat. I make a mental note to take it outside by the back door of the apartment building to give it a good shake. Our apartment building is only four stories and we’re on the first floor for obvious reasons. Brown-brick is layered with stained siding making it look dated and in need of repairs. The fact that half of the paint around the wooden windows is peeling screams major makeover.
“Mom, I’m home.”
No answer.
I dart into the living room, feeling my heart thud in dread. No Mom. Skidding down the well-marked hallway I stop at the bathroom door. The door’s shut something impossible to do with my mom in her wheelchair. No privacy in our house for obvious reasons.
I attempt to open it. No go. “Mom, you in there?”
Of course she’s in there. I bang on the door hoping to get her attention. Sweat trickles down my back and I feel nauseous. “Mom, I’m coming in.”
Using my strength I push at the door, slowly moving the old wheelchair out of the way. When there’s enough room for me to slide my body through I do. Mom’s fallen off her chair. She’s done this a few times in the last little bit, but never did it make her go unconscious. My eyes dart frantically around the small room. I absorb stupid details. Her toothbrush is lying beside her with its bristles down on the floor, the caps off the paste, her forehead is bleeding. I kneel down even though I’m shaking with fear. I’m praying with all my might for her to be okay. I know she’s not, but this…this I can’t deal with. The blood is fresh so I’m hoping she hasn’t been out too long.
Not knowing what to do, I call the one number I think of. The phone rings a dozen times before I hang up. Then I call 911. The dispatcher talks me down and walks me through the scene: where we live, what’s our apartment number, is my mom breathing? Shit, I don’t know. I go back into the bathroom and notice her chest is moving. Relief makes me breathe easier. The dispatcher tells me the paramedics will be there in five minutes. I’m to wait on the line with her. She wants me to listen for the ambulance, like only a freaking moron could miss the wail of the sirens as they pull up to my place. Immediately it’s like I’m a star and everyone is staring at me as I usher them like a madwoman into the building. My face heats with shame as I let the paramedics into our place. They barely talk to me. Instead they make their way to the bathroom, maneuvering their bulky bodies around the old stained banana boxes that are filled with my brother’s things. I follow until they ask me to leave the space to give them room to work.
One of the paramedics moves the wheelchair up and into the bathtub. Why didn’t I think of that?
I nod at them as I make my way back down the hall. I don’t realize I have a death grip on the phone until I force my numb fingers to put it down on one of the boxes. A few minutes later they emerge, wheeling my mom out on a gurney. She’s strapped down with a wool blanket covering her all the way up to her chin. There is an oxygen mask covering her mouth and what looks like a portable IV is hooked up to her.
“Is she going to be okay?”
“Not sure. Any idea how long she’s been out?”
I shake my head. This is all my fault. If I didn’t take my time coming home, she might be okay.
“She’s going to probably need a CAT scan and she’ll be in the hospital for a few days. You want to come along.”
I nod again, fighting the tears threatening to mark me as a cry baby. No way. I make my way toward the ambulance.
“Your Mom going to be okay, Megan?”
Mrs. Burrows lives next door to us. Normally when I go out I let her know. She’s got a key and likes to keep Mom company. My mom doesn’t really like her, but she was brought up to be nice to everyone so I always use Mrs. Burrows when I know I’m going to be staying late at school or studying at the library. Another layer of guilt eats at me.
I notice Mrs. Burrows is in her gym clothes, blue velour that was outdated a decade ago. Like everyone in the building, she too lives on a fixed income. When it’s fixed you tend to worry more about paying the rent, buying food and paying your electrical and water bills. Clothing becomes fourth rated.
April 17 Promo
This is From My Heart
April 18 Guest Blog
Mila Ramos
April 19 Promo
Roxanne’s Realm
April 20 Guest Blog
Fang-tastic Books
April 21 Guest Blog
The Creatively Green Write at Home Mom
April 27 Review
artsy musings of a bibliophile
May 5 review and guest blog
Indiewritersreview
May 6 Interview
May 8 Guest Blog (review later)
Keeping Up With The Rheinlander's
May 9 Promo and review
Reader Girls
May 10 Promo
JeanzBookReadNReview
May 12 Guest blog
Read2Review
May 13 Guest blog and review
Lissette E. Manning
Off Limits
By Renee Pace
Genre:YA
blurb:
Lindsay looks and acts like the perfect fifteen year-old, but she’s hiding a dirty little secret that no amount of fashionista coverings can make better. Telling her mother her step-father is molesting her is not an option. Trying to kill herself again haunts her more than the scars on her wrists, and pretending to be perfect at school might very well drive her over the edge.
Megan knows all about lying. It's been part of her life ever since she realized the only way to escape her poverty-stricken neighborhood was to work hard, keep her mouth shut and wear a mask no one can penetrate. All that changes when Lindsay befriends her.
Can two girls who have little in common discover the value of a real friendship or will the secrets they dare not speak destroy them both?
Off Limits purchase links:
Kindle http://amzn.com/B006JUVE1Y
About the Author:
Renee Pace is a multi-published author who likes to tackle real teen issues in her nitty gritty series. She calls Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada home. Mother of four she juggles writing, deadlines and her children’s hectic schedules. She is a member of Romance Writers of America, Romance Writers of Atlantic Canada, the Writers Federation of Nova Scotia, and the Society of Children Writers & Illustrators. Her first nitty gritty book, Off Leash was a 2011 semi-finalist in the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Contest. Her second book Off Limits tackles poverty and sexual abuse, and for her third book, Off Stroke debuting May 2012 Pace writes about young love and prejudice.
renee@reneepace.com
twitter @ReneePaceYA
www.reneepace.com
http://www.facebook.com/#!/profile.php?id=100001054616665&sk=info a Rafflecopter giveaway
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Tools of a Hero’s Trade Guest Blog with Julie Rowe
This summary is not available. Please
click here to view the post.
Monday, April 16, 2012
Five Fun Facts About Tempted Guest Blog and Giveaway with Elise Marion
This summary is not available. Please
click here to view the post.
Sunday, April 15, 2012
REINCARNATION AND WRITING Guest Blog by Marie Symeou
As a fan of history, I feel a strong pull towards the periods I write about and I'm deeply passionate about my chosen eras. I suppose I have to be if I'm going to be carrying out such extensive research.
However, I’ve often wondered if there’s something deeper going on here, like a past life link.
I have always believed in reincarnation. It makes sense to me. And I truly believe in the idea of soul mates, but not nessessarily the happy-ever-after-only-one-soul-mate-for-me ideal. No, I believe that soul mates are meant to teach us something and that there is a reason they come into our life.
Could I have lived in the times I choose to write about?
Well, who's to say that I didn't? In my novel Frozen In Time (Book 1 in the Blood of the Gods Trilogy), the setting is Ancient Greece, which is an era I've always been fascinated with ever since I was a young girl. In Book 2 of this trilogy we will be travelling through the Middle Ages of England and Renaissance Italy, both time periods that also interest and inspire me. And then, in Book 3, we arrive in Regency England and travel on to Italy and Switzerland. I am working on both these books now and hope to be publishing them by the end of this year.
Another thing I've always loved and seems to conjure up past life memories for me is Celtic music. I cannot explain how much this music connects with my soul. It really gives me shivers when I hear it. Though I've yet to write a novel about the Celts, there is an element of Celtic myth in Frozen In Time, where I've kind of mixed Greek myth with Celtic myth, and not forgetting the little sprinkling of Norse myth I added too.
And talking of Norse, I recently discovered a new fascination with Scandinavia. On my first visit to Sweden ten years ago, where my brother lives, I felt quite strange and tearful when I first caught sight of the little wooden houses along the shore as the plane landed. I became instantly enchanted and felt that I was entering a fairytale land.
The scenery was absolutely breathtaking, even if it was quite foggy at the time. It all seemed familiar to me, and yet I’d never really known anything about Scandinavia up until then. I mean, I naively thought it always snowed!
So, whether I actually lived in these times or in these lands in a previous life, it doesn't really matter because my fascination inspires me to create stories, which is what I truly love to do.
Thank you for having me on your blog.
April 9 Promo
stories with bite o,.,o
April 10 Promo
Sharonda
April 11 Guest blog
The Creatively Green Write at Home Mom
April 12 Guest Blog (review later)
Ce-Ce`s Garden of Review
April 14 Interview
Storm Goddess Book Reviews & More:
April 15th Promo
April 15 Guest blog
Roxanne’s Realm
April 16 Guest blog
Always a Booklover –
FROZEN IN TIME
BLURB
After the death of his wife in childbirth, Philip, grief stricken and suicidal, joins the army of his half brother Alexander, with whom he has a very uneasy relationship. But the world of immortals has other plans for him and the vampiric monster, Scylla, plays on his grief by seducing him in the form of his dead wife. Horrified when he discovers the truth and that he too is now one of the immortals, it becomes his life’s quest to escape Scylla, find a way of destroying her forever and also reunite himself with his beloved wife in one way or another.
AUTHOR BIO
Marie Symeou was born in North London, where she still lives. She is the author of FROZEN IN TIME, a historical vampire fantasy set in Ancient Greece, and AGE OF DREAMS, a semi-autobiographical tale of fame, love and addiction set in the 1980s. She also writes screenplays and song lyrics, and is the vocalist of Violet Eternity. She is currently working on the sequel to FROZEN IN TIME.
http://marie-deepthinker.blogspot.com/
https://twitter.com/#!/marie_p_s
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Marie-Symeou-Author-Singer/119520001398734
Spotlight on Bandit Creek Books Spunky by Sherile Reilly
You can see a complete list of Bandit Creek Books here: http://banditcreekbooks.com/books/
If you would like to schedule an interview with one of the authors or receive a pdf of one of the books for review please contact me at RoxanneRhoads@bewitchingbooktours.com
Please include your blog name and url, the title of the book you would like to review, and/or name of the author you would like to interview and a couple of suggested dates you have available.
This week's spotlighted title is Spunky by Sherile Reilly
Spunky
By Sherile Reilly
A Bandit Creek Book
Tap dancing and riding her dilapidated bike are ten-year old Sarah Crawford’s, better known as Spunky, favorite activities.
After moving to Bandit Creek with her mom, Spunky discovers the old lady in the basement apartment dislikes both her and her dancing.
While practising her tap steps in the garage, Spunky devises a wonderful scheme to raise cash for a new bike. However, disaster strikes when she is accused of theft and her great money-making plan is squashed.
Just when Spunky thinks that Bandit Creek is a horrible place to live, she’s forced to defend her beliefs and her whole world changes. She discovers the town may be more exciting than she ever realized.
About Sherile Reilly
Unlike her heroine, Sherile Reilly has never had to fret about hanging up her tap shoes. Trained as a singer and a pianist, she devoted her expertise to teaching sixth graders and learned as much from them as they learned from her. Sherile is now pursuing other passions, writing and painting. She’s had numerous showings of her art and her work has been selected as ‘Best in the Show’. She lives in Calgary, Alberta with her husband Ed.
Excerpt
Chapter 1
Tap-tap. Tap-pe-ty-tap. Spunky hopped into the air. Her tap shoes exploded against the basement floor and she grinned as she sailed past the washer and dryer. Dancing felt sooo good. It was the first time she’d been able to practice since she and her mom moved to Bandit Creek.
Keeping her knees bent and her hands forward, she pretended the top of the washer was a stand-up piano. With the sharp smell of bleach tickling her nose, she drummed a rhythm on the metal surface and belted out a song to the beating of the machine.
From high above, the twin windows cast spotlights on the floor. Standing center stage, Spunky swiped her red cap from her head and with a flourish, she bowed. Raising her head, she twisted her long hair into a ponytail and flashed a huge smile at her new best friend.
Sitting on the bottom step, Sammy Wong applauded. “That’s great.”
BANG!
Across from the laundry room, a door blasted open and an old lady charged out of the basement suite like a stampeding elephant. She stopped a few feet in front of Spunky.
“What are you doing?”
Spunky back peddled until her bum touched the warm door of the washing machine. “I…I was just practicing my dancing. She stepped forward and did a quick shuffle ball change. The taps of her shoes made a fabulous rat-a-tat-tat. After a full turn, she gave her best smile and curtsied, hoping the old lady would clap and compliment her, or at least smile back.
“I was sleeping and you woke me up.” The lady scowled. “Noisy little girl. And those,” she pointed to Spunky’s shoes, “make far too much noise.”
Spunky’s shoulders slumped. She’d saved her allowance for the shoes because they were shiny, black, and made such a great sound.
“I don’t want to forget the steps. I used to take lessons.” Before the car crash two years ago, her dad had loved watching her. Spunky blinked and swallowed, trying to ease the burning in her throat. She still missed her dad’s big smile and hugs.
When they moved during the first week of September, her mom told her a woman named Mrs. Snodgrass rented the bottom half of the house. Maybe if she explained how much she loved dancing, the lady would ask to see her newest steps.
“How old are you?” The woman’s nose twitched as if she’d smelled something awful.
“Ten.” To Spunky, it was a great age.
“Ten years old. You’re much too short to ever be a ballerina.”
Spunky crossed her arms and stared back. Ballerina? She didn’t want to be a ballerina. She wanted to tap dance and ride her bike. Who cared if she was short?
“Ballerinas are slender and tall. Your movements must be graceful. Like this.” Standing on one foot, the old lady raised her arms and pointed them like a windmill. She twirled, reminding Spunky of a spinning top. Her dress lifted, showing a white slip with lots of lace.
When Mrs. Snodgrass stopped, she lowered her arms and pointed at the floor. “Mr. Petruska, the landlord, would not be very pleased to have you scuffing the cement. He just painted it.”
“My mom never told me…”
“Well now you know.” The woman shook her finger. “You, young lady, have a lot to learn. Being as you’ve just moved in, I’m sure your mother hasn’t explained the rules. I hope you both realize how much sound carries.”
The old lady tightened her lips, pulled in her chin and glared at Spunky. “And what was that horrible squawking I heard?”
Spunky’s mouth dropped open. “I was singing.”
“For a little girl, you have a very piercing voice.”
Her dad always said he loved her strong and clear voice.
Under the old lady’s intense stare, Spunky felt like a bug about to be stepped on. She took a deep breath, standing tall like a professional dancer.
The woman scowled as she gawked at Spunky’s belly button then her gaze moved to the T-shirt. It was one of Spunky’s favorites, with “So You Think You Can Dance” across the front. If she practiced her tap steps and strengthened her legs with cycling, she’d get stronger and improve. When she got older, she’d audition for a part in a television dance show.
“Young lady.” Mrs. Snodgrass looked down her nose. “The landlord informed me that a new tenant was moving in but he didn’t tell me the woman had a noisy child. What is your name?”
“It’s Spunky,” she said, hoping the old lady would ask about her nickname. She’d been a premature baby and the doctor didn’t think she’d live, but she’d showed lots of spirit and spunk. So her parents nicknamed her Spunky. The name had stuck and she was proud of it.
The old lady shook her head. “No. What I want to know is your proper name.”
“Oh, it’s Sarah, Sarah Yvonne Crawford. But all my friends call me Spunky.”
“Well, I will call you by your correct name, young lady. My surname is Snodgrass and you may address me as Mrs. Snodgrass.”
“Okay.” Spunky nodded, thinking Mrs. Snoop would be a much better name.
“Does your mother realize how foolish the name Spunky is going to sound when you grow up? Sarah Yvonne is much more ladylike. In fact, it’s quite a lovely name.”
So what? Spunky liked her nickname just fine.
“And you, young man.” Mrs. Snodgrass turned to Sammy who’d been sitting quietly with his elbows resting on his knees.
“Uh, yes.” Sammy’s eyes widened as he peered through his straight black bangs. He got up slowly and extended his hand. “I’m Sammy Wong. How do you do?”
Spunky wondered if Mrs. Snodgrass would notice Sammy wasn’t tall either. As far as Spunky was concerned, height didn’t matter unless you wanted to be a basketball player.
“Oh, well, yes, I’m pleased to meet you.” Mrs. Snodgrass seemed surprised with Sammy’s manners. She shook his hand.
“Now young man, it’s almost supper time and I’m sure your parents will be expecting you home.”
Looking uncomfortable, Sammy backed up, one step at a time. Before he disappeared from Spunky’s view, he shot her a quick glance. “See you at school tomorrow.”
Disappointed he was leaving, Spunky nodded. “Yeah, see you.”
Mrs. Snodgrass pushed back the cuff on her dress and checked her gold watch. “It’s five o’clock. When your mother gets home the three of us need to review the rules for living in this residence.”
Spunky bowed her head and stared at her brand new shoes.
She and her mom had only been in Bandit Creek for one week and she’d already tapped into trouble.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)