My Crazy Corner

I came across this book in the library and the cover sucked me in. I am so excited to sit down and read it. It's been a while since I found a zombie book that even remotely caught my attention. We'll see how it measures up in a few days!

For those of you who don't already know this, Halloween is my all time favorite holiday. I go a little crazy on decorations the same way the folks at Christmas do with their lights and their Santa scenes.

I just finished decorating the house to look like a haunted freaky place. I even have paper that goes up to give it a more weathered, haunted house feel. Cobwebs, complete with bloodstains are subtly strewn around the house and the yard. Lights are up and the fog machine is in place as are the motion detectors that will cause things to jump out at you when you walk by.

The neighborhood kids love my house every year.

So in honor of the haunted house, does anyone want to share thier favorite haunted house to visit for Halloween?

Chapter One

Why does it always happen to me? What did I do to piss off the Fates so badly? I stared down at my puke-covered Mary Janes and winced. Eww, gross. So much for my brand new shoes.

“Come on, Kay, let’s get you home.” I pulled my best friend up and put my arm around her. She smelled like stale beer and vomit. Rancid breath. I should leave her here, I thought spitefully. I hadn’t even wanted to come to the stupid party to begin with. It was just another one of their attempts to get me into the fold, but I had no intention of getting involved in any that nonsense. Just look what it had gotten me tonight—Jeff hit on me yet again…ugh… and then my shoes were ruined. So wrong.

“S-s-sor-ry,” Kay slurred as she focused on putting one foot in front of the other.

“Where’s your car?” I asked as I scanned the vehicles parked too close together on the fringe of the lake.

“Jess.”

Perfect, I groaned to myself. I’d seen her sister earlier arguing with her loser boyfriend, but didn’t know she’d already taken Kay’s car and left. I used my cell to try and call her, but wasn’t surprised it went straight to voicemail.
Just fabulous. It’s not like I could even call Kay’s boyfriend. His parents had cornered him into some kind of family night.

I searched the mass of bodies looking for someone who’d loan me their car. The raucous laughter of teens filled the air as they danced around the mummy of the headless horseman they’d built, his pumpkin head ablaze, to usher in the month of October and the ritual of Samhain. Bonfires decorated the shore to welcome our most celebrated holiday.

The haze from the bonfires made it hard to see anyone. Jeff caught my eye and waved. I could ask him, but Neighbor Boy would think I owed him. Uh, definitely not. He was one of my best friends, but he had a serious crush on me. Loaning me his Jeep would equal a date in his eyes. Not gonna happen. I didn’t see anyone else that I knew well enough to ask.

Kay made a horrible retching noise and threw up all over my shoes again. Why me?
“Looks like we’re walking.” Thank the Fates she didn’t live far.

I half dragged the semi-conscious girl away from the lake and towards the outskirts of New Salem. I still couldn’t believe I was stuck hauling her drunken ass home. She owed me big time.

It was dark, but I knew my way through the woods. I’d spent enough time in them growing up to be able to walk through blindfolded. Kay, however, made it more difficult. I had to stop every few minutes to let her throw up. By the time we finally reached the first house on our street, Gallows Lane, I really was ready to leave her.

She groaned and pitched forward, dragging me with her. Now I could add scraped knees to my list of things that had gone wrong tonight, I thought as I fell. Fingers curled around my arm and yanked me backward before I could hit the ground. Kay fell flat on her face.

I turned around to say thank you, but the words froze in my throat. I looked up and up. The light from the street lamp illuminated hair the color of rich, dark chocolate. It swept down almost to his shoulders in a perfect mess that framed a face of sharp angles and strong features. Sculpted perfection was my first thought. Gray eyes that reminded me of the fog swirling over the mountains after a rain, stared steadily down at me. My mind focused on one fact—he was absolutely gorgeous.

“Are you okay?” he asked. His voice was deep and gravelly. I liked it.
I nodded, not trusting my own voice. I was in full ogle mode.

He looked down at Kay and sighed. He lifted her into his arms and turned to me. “Where does she live?”

“Just up the lane,” I told him, grateful my voice didn’t crack while I admired the way his muscles rippled under the tee shirt as he shifted his hold on Kay. “Thanks.”

He nodded and motioned for me to show him the way.

“I’m Cassie Jayne Bishop,” I told him as we walked. “CJ.”

Crap, why I had I told him my full name? We were taught at an early age not to tell strangers our full names. To us it was the ultimate taboo. Oh well. It’s not like I believed in that nonsense anyway.

“Ethan Warren,” he said and quickened his pace.

Okay, so maybe he didn’t want to talk to me. Or he could just be in a hurry to get away from the stench of dried vomit and beer. I hoped it was the latter. Then I remembered my shoes. I probably reeked too.

We reached Kay’s house in record time. His long strides ate up the sidewalk. I found myself running to keep up with him. He had to be at least four or five inches over six feet. I barely reached his shoulder.

Fate decided to forgive me. Her Dad still wasn’t home. Neither was Jess. I opened the back door with the spare key they kept buried in the gravel. I turned around to take Kay, but he was already entering the house. I led the way upstairs to her room so I could open the door for him. He dumped her on the bed. I pulled her shoes off and tucked a throw around her.

“Come along, Cassie Jayne Bishop. I’ll walk you home.” He turned and headed out the door.

I stared after him. Who was he? I found him waiting at the back door when I came down. After locking the door and pocketing the key (hey, he’d seen me take it—how was I to know he wouldn’t come back?) we started up the lane toward my own smaller, more meager house.

“Why weren’t you drinking?” he asked me as we walked.

“You were at the party?” I looked up, startled.

He nodded. “Yeah. I saw you and Drunk Girl arrive, but I never saw you drink anything all night.”

“No, I don’t drink.” And I didn’t. I’d seen what it did to my dad. Watching that train wreck was enough to deter anyone from ever wanting to touch the stuff themselves, including me. My dad was great, except when he drank.

Then the impact of what he’d asked sunk in. How did he know I didn’t drink anything? Had he been watching me? I peeked sideways at him and felt my mouth go dry. It was indecent the way his tight, green tee-shirt hugged his abs.
“Interesting,” he said after a moment.

Interesting? What did that mean? Did he assume I was like Kay and drank myself into a stupor on a regular occurrence? Please don’t think I’m that much of an idiot, I begged silently. Why did I even care what he thought anyway? It wasn’t like he was interested in me or something. Was he? Did I want him interested? Oh, yeah, you bet your ass I did.

Guys tended to notice my best friend, Makayla Martin, first. It didn’t bother me, though. I had just as much confidence in myself as she did. I always got anyone I wanted. Kay and I were the same in many ways, but we were also as different as Gucci heels were to a pair of Payless stilettos.

She was tall with dark, onyx hair that glowed like black fire. Her eyes, always full of life, shone like the hazel eyes of a cat. An olive complexion gave her an exotic look. Guys fell all over themselves for the chance of a smile.
Me now, I was a bit of a different story. I was short, petite, and full of the fire that is inherent in a redhead with an Irish ancestry. My hair stood out. It wasn't auburn or even that ugly orange shade some red-heads ended up with. No, my hair was blood red like a Coca-Cola can. My golden colored brown eyes flashed with the same confidence of Kay’s. I could turn heads just as easily as she could. And I knew it.

Our personalities were just as different. Kay had this insane need to be the center of attention. She was literally a force of nature. I was usually content to be the fashionable sidekick with the kickass shoes. I didn’t need every single person clamoring for my attention just so long as I got the attention of the person I wanted. Like the boy walking beside of me. And I would have him. Maybe. The stench could be a hurdle. Kay was so gonna get it tomorrow.

My mind flashed to my sister and for a second, her face danced in front of my eyes. If only she could see me now. She’d be laughing herself silly.

“This is my house,” I told him as we came to the old yellow Victorian home. It was just a bit run down, but I still loved it. He followed me up the steps and stopped under the porch light. “Thanks for walking me home.”

When he didn’t say anything, I looked up to see him staring at me. A smile flirted with his lips. Dimples. He had dimples.

“Don’t worry about it. I figured you might need some help when I saw you staggering away from the party. Does she always get that drunk?”

So he did look at Kay as possible girlfriend material! Of course he would be worried about her getting drunk all the time. I sighed with irritation. This could be a problem. There were times I really hated my best friend.

“No,” I lied, my BBF skills kicking in despite my irritation. Kay did get drunk a lot. I coped with problems at home by writing in my journal. She coped with her problems by drinking. I frowned, a thought occurring to me.

“Wait, you followed us? A bit stalkerish don’t you think?”

He grinned. My knees turned to butter. “Yeah, that’s why I decided to follow you and only give you some help if you needed it. You’re a tiny bit of fluff. I’m surprised the Amazon didn’t bowl you over before you reached the lane.”

“You’re rude.” Tiny? Why did he have to remark upon my shortness?

His smile widened.

“And Kay doesn’t always act like that.”

“You’re a loyal little thing aren’t you?” he laughed.

A little thing? Yet another remark upon my stature, my one bone of contention with my appearance. It irked me. He irked me. Maybe I didn’t want him after all.
His eyes sparkled with laughter. He was irritating me on purpose.
“She’s my friend.”

His lips turned up in a half smile and his eyes darkened to steel. “Did I say something to upset you?”

“Of course not,” I replied coolly. I couldn’t seem to drag my gaze away from his eyes. They fascinated me. I’d never seen eyes that could turn so many shades of gray in a matter of seconds.

“And you’ve got a bit of a temper,” he mused. His face wore an odd expression as he reached out and pushed a stray strand of hair behind my ear. I almost hyperventilated.

Normally, I would have evaded any guy who tried to touch me, especially one I didn’t know, but not this one. I wanted him to touch me. Very weird.
His fingers were warm as they continued down from my ear and brushed my cheek. I felt a little spark of electricity shoot across my skin.

“Anything else you’d like to point out while you’re doing such a bang up job of it?” I tried to work up a good glare. He looked at me like he couldn’t quite figure out how I fit into the whole puzzle. I was the odd piece that just didn’t work no matter which way you turned it.

His face turned serious as he thought about it. “Your face gets all red when you get angry.”

Oh, he did not.

“And you make a funny choking noise when you’re trying not to yell.”
My fist clenched.

I turned and unlocked the door. No way was I going to stand here and listen to this.

His hand found mine before I could open the door. He pulled me back to him.
“And despite all that, you’re still the cutest little thing I’ve seen in ages,” he told me with a devilish grin.

My mouth fell open. He thought I was cute?

“I’ll see you around, Cassie Jayne Bishop.” He tweaked my nose and then sauntered back the way we’d come.

I watched him until he disappeared. Cute? He said I was cute? Mr. Melt In Your Mouth Gorgeous thought I was cute? I smiled. Then I caught site of my Mary Janes. Ugh. Kay owed me a new pair of shoes.

I shivered as the cold wind blew through the trees and wished it was just a bit warmer. The wind faded and I could feel heat radiate around me. The heat pump must have kicked on, I decided. At least Mom had remembered to turn it on.
My gaze flitted back to the spot where he’d disappeared. I hadn’t actually seen him turn the corner. It was more like he’d…faded. Odd. My eyes must be really tired, I decided, but I smiled. I could still feel his fingers where they’d grazed my cheek and my hand tingled from the warmth of his.

Things might definitely be looking up.

That is if I could forget October 15th and stay out of the town’s clutches.


*** To find out what happens between Cassie and Ethan, buy The Promise by Apryl Baker, available at Amazon.com and barnesandnoble.com ***

The book officially went on Sale Friday, September 2, 2011 and I have received my first review on the Barnes and Noble site so make sure to check it out! I nearly flipped when I read it.

You can purchase an electronic copy of the book at one of the links below. The print version will release shortly.

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/The-Promise-Coven-ebook/dp/B005KSRZ46/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1315185897&sr=8-1
Barnes and Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1105316684?ean=2940013088788&itm=1&usri=apryl%2bbaker

MAKE SURE TO WATCH THE TRAILER:


SO EXCITED...YEAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So, what movie really scares you? Not those CIG films, but honest to God, scary movies that make you jump, scream, and later when you are all alone in the dark, its the movie that will make you think about it, make you scan the shadows, and make you so nervous, you sleep with a light on somewhere?

What is your all time, favorite scary movie and why? Leave your answers in the comments!

In 2111 there is just no excuse not to be published. Depending, of course, on what your definition of being published is. You can be published traditionally, where you get paid--less and less these days. Or you can be published independently, where you pay someone else--for one book or a hundred, depending on your budget. You can publish yourself daily on the Internet or you can get published as a commentator, commenting on someone else's blog or answering questions in a forum with your signature as your logo advertising your forthcoming book on the top 10 secrets of becoming visible on the web.

Me, I first got published the old fashioned way, through contacts. This was back in the day when having a contact really meant something and most people pretty much topped out at five. Nowadays, five thousand contacts is nothing. But, at least in my experience, these virtual contacts have been virtually worthless at the thing they’re supposed to provide--leads for getting published. For instance, I got my first book deal after being recommended to my contact’s editor at Macmillan.

Having just said this, I realize that gaining a contact who has an editor at Macmillan already puts you on third base in the getting published game (although I’m not sure Macmillan is still around, or who owns Macmillan, or, to put it another way, the folks at today’s Macmillan are not sure who owns the rights to that first book of mine).

I got my contact who had the editor through two other contacts. One of them was a professor at CCNY who sent my student novel to an editor friend of his. (It probably helped that the student novel had just won the college’s top writing prize). The editor rejected it with the most detailed critique I’ve ever gotten. He then recommended me to an agent, who sent a copy of my zany resume to the contact with the editor (who worked in PR), who immediately started sending my magazine articles to his friend who was the assignment editor for the Entertainment Section of The New York Times. (It probably helped that by then I was writing articles twice a month for a national music publication). This eventually led to an assignment for me to cover a hot new singer/songwriter playing Max’s Kansas City named Bruce Springsteen. And the rest was history--for him at least.

What these self-aggrandizing details should tell you is, you can’t get a contact with an editor unless you’re already a pretty good writer, in the midst of getting your stuff around.

But even the best of contacts couldn’t prevent my first editor from leaving Macmillan before my book came out, a circumstance I was to confront many times on my journey to 14 published books. Which, in part, may answer the question, how can you publish 14 books and still not be famous (let alone rich)?

These days I’m sampling all the available avenues to publication. I’ve got a new book coming out through a traditional publisher in November. These are the same people who published my last traditional (analog?) book in 2009. I’m also plunging into the epublishing world by reissuing some of my out of print back catalog. This summer, in fact, I’m working on five books at once.

This involves a lot of waiting. I’m currently waiting for a guy to finish coding my first epub reissue. I’m waiting for an artist to deliver some choices on a cover for my second epub reissue, (which is actually more of a rewrite of my third novel). I just finished rewriting my fourth novel for the eighteenth time before sending it out to agents. And then I just finished editing the galleys for my November release. At the same time, I’m waiting for my editor to get back to me with notes for my next book. Meanwhile, I’m impatiently waiting for the pub date to arrive on book number 14.

This could be the big one.

Bruce Pollock’s books include By the Time We Got to Woodstock: The Great Rock Revolution of 1969, Working Musicians: Defining Moments from the Road, the Studio, and the Stage, If You Like the Beatles (coming in November), When the Music Mattered: Portraits from the 1960s (coming soon as an ebook) and the novel, It’s Only Rock and Roll (coming soon as an ebook). His web page is entitled brucepollock.net. His blog is entitled brucepollock@wordpress.com.

So care to share with me and whomever happens to read this blog just how your road to purgatory, er, I mean publication has gone? Good, bad, and the ugly are all welcome.

If interested please send me an email at apryl.baker@gmail.com.

So everyone keeps asking me how I got the idea for The Promise. So, here goes.

I was driving home from work and it was late and I was tired. The traffic by the lake was ridiculous as usual. People just love to slow down to see the boats on the water, clogging up the interstate in the process. Sorry, had to get that out. It's one of my pet peeves living close to Lake Norman.

Anyway, I remember I turned on the raido and the song "Not Meant To Be" by Theory of A Deadman was playing and I just happened to glance up and see New Salem. It was a tiny little neighborhood I'd passed countless times, but never really paid attention until that moment for some reason. The name stuck with me and a few minutes later when I passed by the graveyard, I got this imagae of girl sitting beside a grave. My first thought was why is she sitting there all by herself?

When I got home, I wrote my random thought of a girl in graveyard, New Salem on a bright pink sticky note and stuck it to the wall beside my computer. Over the next few days, I just kept getting more and more random thoughts and putting them on stickies. Before the week was out I had a wall of pink, yellow, blue, and purple that turned out to be the rough outline of a book. I still have every single one of those sticky notes...lol.

Then came the research...lol.

I still remember going into the library and asking the poor little woman behind the desk if she had any books on Wiccan initiation ceremonies. She had to be seventy if she was a day. Her mouth looked like it was trying to say something as she stared at me like I'd just sprouted horns...lol. She finally managed to choke out, no, they did not carry anything like that. She still looks at me strangely every time I go in...lol. I ended up Googling things and buying books from Amazon.

Three months later, I had my book ready to start polishing.

And that is how The Promise came to be. It was my little sticky note idea that turned into a story that just had to be told. I hope everyone who reads it enjoys it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Apryl

I owe a debt of thanks to all the ladies and gents in my online writing group at www.thenextbigwriter.com. Without them, I don't think it'd ever see the light of a bookshelf. They shredded it daily and I got tougher skin and a better book because of it. So a big hats off to everyone: Susan, Ang, Sheree, Ann, Charity, Zack, and everyone else I forgot to mention. You guys really are the bomb.

And a big thank you to Tirz who not only did the cover art, which is amazing, but she also did the book trailer as well. It turned out so much better than I could have ever hoped for. You rock lady. (PS - if anyone needs custom trailers or covers, her site is under custom covers - she is the best!)

If anyone ever needs a support group to help and guide you in your writing, TNBW is the place to go.

Thanks,
Apryl

The debut novel, Songbird, by young adult author Angela Fristoe is now available for download in electronic format via amazon.com and smashwords.  It is a story of one girl's struggle to overcome her past in order to claim her future with the one person who means more to her than anyone in the world.  It is a heart wrenching story of love, acceptance, and overcoming one's fears.


You can purchase the book here:
Amazon:  http://amzn.to/jbC4Es
Smashwords:  https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/63000

You can also check out Angela on the web:
Website:  www.angelafristoe.com
Songbird official site:  www.wix.com/angelafristoe/songbird
Blog:  www.angelafristoe.wordpress.com

Contracts are signed and delivered, now I'm just waiting for them to assign me an editor and begin the process of editing and revising the book for the 1000th time.  My fellow authors will feel my pain....lol!

It's official, I am a published author!!!!!!  I just signed a contract with Black Matrix Publishing for my YA novel, The Promise.  It is book one in the Coven Series.  I am so excited, I feel like I need to go find a shoe sale!!