Writer Wednesday: Week Eighteen

Another week, another (late) Writer Wednesday. Yeah, late again. I should just do a bunch at once and schedule them to post that way I don't have to worry about them being late when something goes wrong—like it did this week—or if I'm really busy—like a couple weeks ago.

But at least I'm getting them posted. So, that's good.

This week's featured author is Rodney Johnson. Rodney writes Sci-Fi, Erotica, and Erotic Sci-Fi. Here are several links where you can find Rodney and his works. I'm not going to list his books individually like I normally would because I'm listing more than just Amazon this week.

Facebook

Blog/Website

Amazon

Barnes & Noble

Smashwords

Kobo

Books2Read

Sorry for the lateness of the post. It's been a horrible week; I mean, my weeks usually suck, but this one sucked so much more.

Please remember to support indie authors by purchases their works and to leave reviews for those works. Believe me, as an indie author, I promise you those reviews and your support mean the world to us.

Images from a Wandering Mind: a Sick and Disturbing Collection

My collection of Flash-Fiction Horror stories is on its final freebie promo before it gets pulled from Amazon KU. So, if you're curious, or if you want to have the whole collection in one place—because eventually all the stories will be posted here on my blog—this is your last chance to get it for free on Amazon. I imagine it may get some freebie days through Smashwords, but I'm not 100% positive on that, yet.

I'll be putting it back on B&N, too. Just as soon as the Kindle Select term is up on the 4th of August.

So, Images from a Wandering Mind: a Sick and Disturbing Collection is free from today until the 2nd. Share with your horror friends, grab a copy, and spread the gore-filled word.

Thanks! And just click on the title in the previous paragraph to be taken to your local Amazon to grab your free copy!

Oh, wait! Also, at the beginning of July, I joined a handful of awesome authors from the Writers, Poets and Deviants group in their newest horror anthology, Creepies 3: Nightmares on Deviant Street. The stories I provided for the anthology are found in Images, but those stories are accompanied by so many great shorts, and partial proceeds go to MS research. So, consider grabbing a copy. Available in ebook and paperback formats. I'm currently waiting for my paperback copy to arrive.

Have an awesome, fangtastically, terrific week, folks!

Short Story Saturday: Punch

PUNCH

“You know that sense of relief when you punch the heavy bag, Eric?” I say as I screw the large eye-bolt in place.

Not waiting for his reply, I continue working on getting my bag just right to hang. Damn, do I have some pent-up anger and stress. It's taking everything within me not to pulverize the thing while it's still sitting on the table, but I can't wait to see how well my new bag will hold up, which means I need to get it hung. The last two gave out on me so quickly. This will be my third one in as many months. I wonder if coating it with something will make it last longer. I decide against it because I really don't want to throw off the feel of it. I need it authentic.

“The stress just kind of melts away, but it doesn't do the job all the way. You know what I'm talking about, man?” I sigh at the thought of how good this new bag’s going to feel. I've been waiting so long to take a hit at this beauty.

I wonder how much resistance it'll have? How much give?

I heft it up into one arm. The damn thing's so much heavier than my last. It's a bit slick, yet sticky, all at the same time, and it takes some work to keep a hold on it. I adjust the bulk in my arm, using my other hand to steady it before reaching high for the swivel chain. I'm able to hook the carabiner clip to the eye-bolt on the second try.

“What do you think, Eric?” I stand back and admire my work.

I'm not crazy enough to think he's going to answer as he hangs there in front of me. I've sawed off his arms and legs, leaving just his torso. His head's still attached, of course. Where else would the eye-bolt screw in? He died of blood loss long before I could get the bolt threaded into his skull.

I think about putting on my gloves, but I'm too excited. I swing; my punch makes contact with his left side. It gives slightly but not too much. My new bag sways to and fro, and I smile to myself.

“Ah, perfect.”

Writer Wednesday: Week Seventeen

How's everyone doing this week? Doing well, I hope. I'm starting this a bit ahead of schedule, trying to not fall behind on this week's posting like I have in recent posts.

So, anyone been reading anything good? Did you find your reads here? That's the whole point of Writer Wednesday—to help readers find new authors and books. So, I'm hoping someone's found something they like through these posts.

Now let's get to it! Week Seventeen's Writer Wednesday author is Patricia Sands.

Here are the links where you can find her and her works:

Facebook

Website

Twitter

Amazon Author Page

Books:

The Bridge Club

The Promise of Provence (Love in Provence Book 1)

Promises to Keep (Love in Provence Book 2)

I Promise You This (Love in Provence Book 3)

Drawing Lessons

The First Noël at the Villa des Violettes

A Season of Surprises at the Villa des Violettes


Thanks for joining me this week. Remember, if you enjoy a book thank the author by leaving a review. See you next week for Week Eighteen of Writer Wednesday.

Short Story Saturday: Hiking

HIKING

I'm not quite sure how I got here. No, I know exactly how I got here. I guess, it's more like it doesn't make sense, and I don't know what I did to deserve this. Somehow, I'd gotten lost in the woods. I never get lost, but I climbed a pine tree to get a better vantage of where I was. I fell.

How did I fall? I know what the hell I'm doing. Just like, I should've never gotten lost. I've been through these woods a hundred times or more. Must be an off day. Yeah, a really off day.

I must have broken my neck when I hit the ground because I can't move. Though, I'm pretty sure I can feel the ant that's biting the hand I can see. Damn, that hurts like a bitch, but this should be a good sign. Well, if someone finds me, I think. The problem is, I didn't let anyone know I was going hiking today.

Fuckin' hell, I must've landed on an ant bed. A big ant bed. The little red-brown bastards are covering my hand. I can feel them crawling under my jacket, up my arm, and to my chest. Their bites feel like little bursts of flames, multiplied by thousands. I want desperately to brush and slap at myself and knock them off. I keep telling my arms to move, but they do nothing.

Tears well in my eyes, and I cry out, “Help! Someone, help me! Anybody!”

Hours pass, and no one comes to my aid. I focus on my hand. It's a fierce shade of pink. For the most part, it's swollen, but there are areas full of small craters where the ants have carried away bits of my flesh. My pinkie finger has parts where the ants have literally carried away so much flesh that the bone is visible. Though my arm has gone numb a while ago, I can still feel the bites from ants that have gotten lost under my clothing. I briefly wonder if enough ant venom will kill me, and if so, how much does it take?

I grow tired and manage to fall asleep through the fire and the itching all over my body. I wake to darkness, and there’s something pulling at my leg. I try to look what's happening, but I can't move my head to see anything.

“Hello?” I say, merely a breath of air through my lips.

I’m answered by a low growl, then the sound of fabric tearing as my leg is jerked even harder. My body slides a little across the ground by the animal's strength. I run through a list of predators and scavengers in the area. Before I can think of what it could be, a sharp pain shoots through me, starting at my calf and letting me know that I'm not, in fact, completely paralyzed. I feel a wetness run over my leg. I'm certain it's blood and a lot of it—I can smell it.

I scream, and a coyote runs past my line of sight. I've startled it. “Oh, my god! Please! Please, someone help!” I yell. There has to be someone camping nearby. Then I remember that it's Thursday, and not really a big camping day. Yet, I still continue to cry for help.

I guess the coyote thought I wasn't a threat as he slinks back a while later, looking at my face briefly. Shit, don't do it! Don't fucking do it! I'm not sure if I've said it out loud, or if it was just a thought. Either way, the large, wild dog moves out of my sight, and the tugging sensation begins again at my leg. Then the pain is unbearable as I hear my flesh ripping. I grit my teeth, there's no use in screaming. No one's coming, and this animal has decided it isn't afraid of me. I'm not a threat.

I hear a twig snap, and I move my eyes toward the sound. They won't go far enough to find what made the noise. But, I don't need them to as three more beasts walk out of the darkness. They charge at me. I hear snarls and snapping, but they've gone out of my sight just as quickly as they came into it.

One yanks at my jacket. I try to prepare myself. I try not to freak out, but I'm given all the reason to do just that—there's one right in my face. I try to scream, and nothing comes out. It sniffs at my neck, and I can hear it lick its lips. I close my eyes.

Writer Wednesday: Week Sixteen

So, yeah, Writer Wednesday this week is super late. I haven't had much time on the computer, and by the time I do get on, I'm exhausted.

This week's featured author is Zrinka Jelic. Zrinka is a Romance author. Since it's already technically Thursday where I'm at, I'm just going to get to it.

Zrinka's Facebook

Zrinka's Blog

Zrinka's Amazon page


Books:

Bonded by Crimson

Treasured Chest

Angels Cried (Anthology sold to raise funds for the Sandy Hook School Support Fund)

Love Remains (Crimson Romance)

Holiday Spice (Hot Holiday Reads Book 1)

Rose of Crimson

The Wedding Date

Dangerous Benevolence


Hope to see y'all back here next week—hopefully on time. Remember to support indie authors, and please leave reviews.

Snippet Saturday: Two Vamps, Four Drunks, and a Burn Barrel from 'Halfborn'

I gave Marshall turn-by-turn directions as he drove to the spot where I found some drifters earlier that day. They still stood around their burning barrels. Well, one wasn't standing—he was passed out in a drunken stupor from the whiskey they were consuming. His back leaned against an overturned cart, head sagging down over his chest.

We sat and watched the group. There were four. I checked with Marshall a couple of times to be sure the number wasn't too much. He seemed more than confident we could handle them. Ten minutes or so passed, and one of the drifters became curious of our presence. He walked in our direction. I hesitated, hoping there was no one else around but the ones we could see. I wouldn't have known until the door was opened, and my senses could have free rein of the area.

“You ready?” I asked Marshall.

“Always am,” he replied. His innuendo not lost on me.

I threw the door open and jumped out of the way, startling the drifter. Marshall managed enough control to bypass the man headed toward the Winnebago, and instead went for the two huddled near the fire. The sound of a liquor bottle shattering as it hit the ground grabbed Mr. Curiosity's attention. I hurried to him and placed my hand on the side of his face, turning his head back so he'd look at me. His blue eyes locked with mine. He was fairly attractive. Filthy dirty, but attractive.

I ran my fingers down his cheek to his jawline. Then I leaned forward and lightly brushed my lips against his. My hand had found its way to his chest, and I felt his body quiver. I struck. I tore into his throat, guided by pure animal instinct. Animal instinct I only ever channeled through Marshall before that moment, but instead of channeling it, it was all mine. It didn't matter that what I fed on was a person. For that instant, it was a meal. With a few slight touches, I gained his trust and led him to slaughter without a second thought.

Marshall took out the two that stood drinking whiskey around the burn barrels and left the one passed out for me. I approached the slumped figure and knelt down beside him, tapping his shoulder. Nothing. I lightly slapped his face a couple times. No response. The guy was out completely. I pushed his head to his shoulder and exposed his neck, giving me better access, and I struck.

I drew gulp after gulp of whiskey-tainted life past my lips. My head began to dizzy, whether from the new bond forming, the alcohol-saturated blood, or from simply consuming too much blood, I wasn't sure. I withdrew from my lock on his neck. Blood ran down onto his once-white shirt, turning a copper color as the crimson mixed with the brown-gray stains from dirt and who knew what else. I stared for a moment, then I reached over, placed one hand on his right temple and the other just behind his left ear. I turned his head with a quick, swift movement, and with the snap of his neck, the dizziness in my head subsided.

When I stood, I came face to face with Marshall. The sense of wonder that flowed through him took the form of surprise on his face.

“What?” I stared at him, daring him to speak his mind.

“Nothing, I guess. It's just . . .” he trailed off.

“Just what?” I asked; he'd piqued my curiosity.

“Well, I haven't seen you like that since, you know, you attacked me. It was kind of fucking hot.”

“But, it wasn't the same. With you, I lost control, but here . . . I knew exactly what I was doing.”

“And it was hot!”

“Ugh, Marshall, just take care of the mess.” I turned with a smile. I knew he could feel the smugness that filled me, but I didn't care.

*If you enjoyed this snippet and have yet to check out 'Halfborn', you can grab a copy here on Amazon. Available in ebook and paperback format.

Writer Wednesday: Week Fifteen

Hey, everyone! I'm insanely exhausted, and I don't even know why. So, this is going to be quick.

The featured author this week I quite honestly don't know much about. He made quite the impression on me in a Facebook group I'm in, but that's about it. Oh, and he aims to incorporate LGBT and POC as his main characters.

So, here we go. Week Fifteen's featured author is Cameron Blackwell. Below you can find several helpful links to find him and his works, including blogs and web series.

Facebook

Twitter

Amazon

Books:

Sinister Tentacle Sorority

Zombie Hospital of the Damned

Cherry Vanilla


Blogs:

Cam's Inkwell

Demon Veil High School Saga

Supernaturally Yours

Website

As always, support indie authors. And if you enjoy a book, please, leave a review! Thanks!

Snippet Saturday: Becoming

William cracked his eyes open and without moving his head, looked at his surroundings in the early morning light. His body lay stretched along the top of a mound of straw and dry leaves. He moved to roll from his side to his back, but the pain that shot from his calf made him writhe and cry out.

He remembered his afternoon and early evening from what he had hoped was the day before. He'd bagged two rabbits and caught half a dozen small fish. He pushed from the ground, gritting his teeth through the pain as he sat up and tried to recall how he'd ended up hurt. Had he gotten the meat home to his mother and grandfather?

He'd been walking home. His bow hanging on his quiver, and his flimsy fishing pole propped over his left shoulder. He carried his bounty in his right hand. He'd meant to head home earlier, but the evening caught up with him. Dusk had begun to fall quicker than he'd thought it would. All he had wanted was to make sure there was enough meat for his family. His mother had been so weak, and he just knew if she could get a few good meals she'd be back to proper strength. His grandfather sent him to fetch food for them while the old man stayed to take care of the woman they both loved so deeply.

There was a low growl. He froze, knowing that the growl hadn't come from a bear, but it seemed too deep to be a mountain lion. When he had turned, the cat he saw was at least three times the size it should have been. He knew it was much too large, and his mind had drifted to a story his grandfather had told him. A story that the old man had learned from William's father—William had never met his father, but his mother and grandfather spoke fondly of the Pueblo man. William had doubts that his grandfather told the story true to his father's words, but he knew little, if anything, of his Pueblo family and their ways. The story his grandfather told was about Hell beasts, and while the beasts came in various animal forms, the most common was that of a cat. A massive cat, like the one that stood in front of him in that moment, larger than any animal he'd ever encountered before.

William had thrown his day's haul to the beast in hopes that the cat would rather occupy itself with an easy meal. He stepped back, and the cat stepped forward, completely ignoring the dead animals at its feet. He had turned and ran for his life.

Pulling himself from his thoughts, William glanced around, taking his surroundings in better than before. He remembered the beast had bitten him, but he wondered how and why it had not taken his life? Also, how did he end up on a bed of straw?

Something cracked to his left. He turned his head so quickly toward the direction of the noise that he'd pulled something in his neck, causing him to wince and reach up with his hand to rub the area. In the split second before his eyes snapped closed from the pain, he saw a boy. The boy was short, skinny, and underfed. His nearly-black hair framed a honey-colored face that was sunken in and held dark blue eyes. The boy was naked, and the bones of his ribs, shoulders, and knees pushed sickeningly from underneath his tan skin.

William's hand moved from the back of his bony neck around to his face, feeling the sunken sockets of his eyes before opening them. The boy he'd swore he'd seen was no longer there, but William was more concerned with the fact that the boy he'd seen was him. William had only ever seen his reflection in the water of the river, the Rio Chama, but there was no doubt in his mind that the boy looked exactly like him.

“Good to see that you're awake,” a woman's voice said behind him.

William touched his chest, feeling to make sure it was covered. Though the boy he'd seen had been naked, he was not. He turned to see the woman who'd spoken. Her skin—a few shades darker than his—was covered modestly with a deerskin dress. Her light brown hair and light green eyes were striking, and William's breath caught.

“Well, boy, do you speak?”

Writer Wednesday: Week Fourteen

How's everyone? Good? I hope better than I am. Long story, so I'll just say that I let someone get my hopes up about a place to move, and then they stomped on those hopes, crushing them into the gravel of a badly paved road until all the viscous fluids of vitality oozed between those tiny pebbles. Worst part is: it's the second time I've allowed them to do this to me. There will not be a third. Anyways, enough of my whining! No one wants to see that!

It's Wednesday, so we have another author for you this week—Week Fourteen of Writer Wednesday. I'm excited about this one. I mean, I'm excited about each author I feature, but this one, some time back she'd kindly asked me—ME!—for advice about a book. Well, about snakes. Venomous snakes. Truth, I had to do some research because the location had different species than I'm familiar with, but I was happy to do so. I'm far from an expert, but I really enjoy learning about snakes. I'd have one—of the non-venomous variety—but I can't do the whole feeding it mice or other small animals. Eh, but I'm going off subject.

This week's featured author for Writer Wednesday is Angelique Jurd. Angelique writes M/M Romance. So, I'm certain, not everyone's cup of tea, but I'm a fan of her writing. Her characters have great chemistry and are extremely likable . . . and the steam. Nice!

I'm going to move right along and throw y'all some useful links where you can find Angel and her works.

Facebook

Twitter

Amazon

Books:

The Beach House (The San Capistrano Series Book 1)

Tides of Love (The San Capistrano Series Book 2)

Winds of Change (The San Capistrano Series Book 3)

Stormy Seas (The San Capistrano Series Book 4)

Scattered Shells (The San Capistrano Series Book 5)

Safe Haven (The San Capistrano Series Book 6)

Haunted Seas: A San Capistrano Short Story

Phoenix: Rise from the Ashes (Recovery Book 1)

Dove: Spread Your Wings (Recovery Book 2)

Eagles: Soar High (Recovery Book 3)

Jesse's Smile

The Mason Jar

Daisy, Yellow (Paw Prints Book 1)

The Night Before Christmas: A Collection of Four Short Christmas Eve Stories

Joey

Rick (Joey Book 2)


Thanks for joining me for Week Fourteen of Writer Wednesday. I hope to see y'all back next week. Remember, if you enjoy a book, please, leave a review!