Official Blog of Angela White

Inspiration- A guest post by Roberta Kagan

2012-02-19T11:43:00.000-05:00

When I was a little girl I discovered that my mother had a black suitcase in the basement. I was forbidden to look inside. Of course, all you have to do is tell a child “NO” and the next time my mother was out, I ran downstairs and opened the suitcase. Inside I found letters that been censored and pictures of people I’d never met.

My curiosity got the better of me, so I asked my mother what all of this was. She explained that this small bunch of paperwork was all she had left of her entire family in Germany. For years this haunted me. Finally I began to research. I have since written several novels and short stories set in that period.

Although I never discount the horrors of the Holocaust, and my heart goes out to the 11 million who died (Jews and non-Jews), my main goal is to bring knowledge of what happened to as wide an audience as possible.

I am hoping that Jews and non-Jews alike will read my books and realize that under the skin we are all the same. We are all God’s precious children. Thanks so much for reading my work. I send you all many blessings.

Roberta Kagan

Trial by a Higher Court

All My Love, Detrick

Kindle Nation Daily Bargain Book Alert: Angela White's THE SURVIVORS: BOOK ONE (LIFE AFTER WAR) is Our eBook of the Day, Currently FREE, With 3.7 Stars on 55 Reviews, and Here's a Free Sample! | Kindle Nation Daily

2012-02-16T10:16:00.000-05:00

Kindle Nation Daily Bargain Book Alert: Angela White's THE SURVIVORS: BOOK ONE (LIFE AFTER WAR) is Our eBook of the Day, Currently FREE, With 3.7 Stars on 55 Reviews, and Here's a Free Sample! Kindle Nation Daily Would you like to be featured on The Apocalypse Book Blog? Please see the Tours tab.

Jan. News, Notes, & Something New

2012-01-26T16:44:00.003-05:00

Welcome to my first post of the year!

Let me start with what you want the most-No, I’m sorry but there’s no new news on Adrian’s Eagles. Yes, I’ve included a part from it at the end of this post. And I’m hoping for feedback.

So why am I on here, when I should be working on AE?

News

Books 1-3 have been edited again and are now live on the usual retailers. These copies are really good and they’ve been gone over a lot. All the beta readers and the new editors involved have been wonderful.

I’ve been in contact with Amazon and they’ve agreed to update current editions. They should be sending out emails about it in the next few days, to everyone with a copy on their device. One book at a time, I would imagine but you can speed the process up by contacting them yourselves at the link below and asking for them to update it now.

Contact Amazon-Updating

This means Life After War (LAW) will also be updated, so if you would like to have a copy of both versions, I would suggest picking up the LAW edition, which contains books 1-3, before Monday, Jan 30^th. After that, all available books will be the new copies.

I hope you’ll like it more. There seems to be less confusion due to the structural changes and I’ll tell you now that Kendle’s entire story has been removed from book one. Her tale of horror and triumph now begins in book two, where it should have all along.

Notes

Print copies are also now available on Amazon (Links below) and I’m sorry about the pricing. I put them as low as I could for that many pages. I personally love ebooks and doubt I’ll ever buy another bound book in my lifetime. Clearly, I’m a fan of the new publishing industry.

The Survivors -Book One-Print

On The Road -Book Two-Print

Safe Haven -Book Three-Print

The schedule for this blog hasn’t been chosen yet for 2012 but I hope to have that settled in the next few weeks, along with a firm and final date for Adrian’s Eagles.

Many of you have sent emails and left comments or reviews and I just wanted to say how good it makes me feel to know other people love Life After War the way I do. Thank you and I’m sorry if I haven’t answered you yet. I will, my word on it. Unless you’re crazy and in that case, I’ll have the Witch email you. She’s better at that stuff than I am.

I should also say a thank you to my two newest editors, Dennis and Jill. Welcome aboard!

Book One, The Survivors, in PDf format, is now a free book on this blog. I’m hoping that in time, Amazon will reduce its price as well. Feel free to hit the report link below and notify them of the lower price. I want this first part to be available to anyone so people can have a chance to see if they like my writing before they spend any money. The Dropbox link in the right side bar is for book one and provides a little detail about how the download actually works. It will be free for a while, so tell your friends!

Report Lower Price

To report it, look for the Amazon direct link at the bottom of the product details, which is below the description. It will say tell us about a lower price

Something New

(These scenes take place roughly half way through the book.)

Sam groaned inwardly as she read her schedule. Babysitting? She didn’t even like kids. That she knew of, Sam amended. She hadn’t been around many and they intimidated her a little. What was she supposed to do with them?

Determined not to whine, she got a mug of tea and headed for the children’s area. Still feeling awkward, she only gave a short nod or smile to those who called greetings. When she saw the three Eagles waiting at the campers, she tripped, sloshing steaming liquid over her injured hand.

“Damn it!”

Jeremy turned to frown at whoever was cursing so close to the kids but exchanged the reprimand for a smile of welcome instead. He had personally asked Adrian to assign the blonde woman here today.

“We’re waiting on two others and then we’ll head out.”

“Where to?”

“It’s field trip day. This time, we’re hitting the town.”

Confused but not wanting to look clueless, Sam waited near him, glad the high-level Eagle was talking to her when Neil came through the shadows. He had questions lurking in those beautiful green eyes, hard ones she didn’t want to answer.

“There they are.”

Sam stiffened. Cynthia was walking quickly next to Peggy. The reporter was asking little Becky’s mom things she didn’t want to reveal either, Sam thought, seeing the redhead’s face tighten. Didn’t Cynthia realize she was trying to pry information from a convert? Even if she knew something, Peggy wouldn’t tell the reporter.

“Hey, Neil.”

“Mrs. Kelly.”

“Peggy.”

Neil flushed at the tone. It said when, you marry my daughter, you’ll call me mom, and Neil refused to look at Samantha. Did she know?

The camper door opened as their eyes met and the excited voices of young children sent Sam’s nervous tension up another level.

“All right, everyone. Each chaperone will be responsible for two children. The kids get to pick.”

Sam sighed resignedly, eying the sticky-faced kids with trepidation. Some days were just hell.

Kyle moved toward the center table with casual steps, sure what he was about to do would be hated by the sullen Marine on Adrian’s right.

Steeling his nerves (it still amazed him that he felt any hesitation at all considering the missions he and his Eagles had completed since the war) Kyle moved to Angela’s side of the crowded center table.

“Hey, Kyle. Did you come for the coffee?”

“Cause this ain’t it!”

The table laughed at the obviously used joke and the Mobster grinned back, eyes full of warning Adrian took note of, “Me and the boys are headin out. Thought I’d see if the Rookie wants to come along.”

Silence fell over the table and those around them, and then the entire Mess.

“Great idea. You interested in a taste of what’s coming?” Adrian asked and Angela grinned, able to feel his pleasure and Kenn’s fury. It hadn’t been planned.

“When?”

“Fifteen?” Kyle answered.

Angela snorted, “I’ll be ready in five like the rest of the team.”

Kyle chuckled and they moved toward the tent area, not looking at any of the shocked camp around them.

There had been rumors and stories since the airfield and gun test but no actual confirmation until now. It was true. She’d been accepted as an Eagle, a woman who had only been in camp for a week.

Silence reigned in the Mess and it took Neil’s full control to play his part convincingly. He and Kyle had worked it out last night.

“Never seen a woman shoot that well. Not even before. She hits 90% of all targets in level 4!”

Adrian grinned, voice perfectly in awe, “Few more like that and we’d have enough shooters in camp to keep any bad guys off our asses.”

“Takes guts to join the Eagles. You think there are more here like that?”

Adrian let his blue gaze sweep the openly listening people, making pointed contact with a few, one that caused even more frowns.

“Yes, but they’ll come out when they’re ready.” Adrian went back to his lunch and the camp did the same, muttering and whispering. One of those he had looked at was only 15!

Adrian gave Neil a subtle nod of approval and then moved them onto camp business. “All right, the day’s schedules are out and we’ll need to …”

“He’s very happy with you.”

Kyle grinned at Angela’s low words, “Then I’m doing it right.”

“Thank you. I know it’s for him, but thank you anyway.”

The mobster raised a bushy brow, “It is for you. If you didn’t deserve the chance, he wouldn’t be giving it to you.” Kyle made a motion to the men in the parking area, most of them loading the one Excursion.

Assuming he had told them how long till he’d be there, Angela quickened her step. “I can meet you there if you like.”

Kyle shook his head, eyes sweeping the area, “My team is your shadow today.”

Realizing what that meant, she ducked into the small tent that never failed to remind her of her lost time with Brady, “Two minutes.”

In half that time, she emerged from the tent in the rookie gear that had been lying near her tent flap this morning and slung the single bag over her shoulder, still smiling. No secret guard. They would be outside the camp and away from prying eyes for a few hours. Finally!

Kyle could feel her excitement, her happiness rubbing off on him and he followed her to the vet area with a light step. It was gonna be a good day.

“One minute.” Angela ducked into the tent to see her son and the vet in the middle of feeding the ever-growing zoo and she stayed near the flap, out of their way.

“I’ll be out of Camp today. Have Mitch call if you need me.”

Charlie was glad she was still being cautious about their gifts, just like before. “Okay. Be careful.”

Angela tried not to frown, “Okay mom.”

The teenager smiled, rolling his eyes and after a quick look at Chris, she joined Kyle.

“All ready.”

Kyle looked at his watch as he got them moving toward the waiting men. Less than four minutes, including walk time. It was impressive for the team but for a female? It was slightly unnerving and they moved in silence.

Kyle halted near the bumper and the men gathered around him, “Let’s do the usual check. Weapons?”

Each of the nine men started checking their guns and Angela did the same, feeling awkward despite her fingers doing mostly what she wanted them to. They were going over their other weapons now, guns in boots and knives on belts and she did a quick look to make sure her wrist blade was fastened securely, received approving looks that she had a backup.

“Communication?”

Each man had a belt they were strapping around their hips and securing to their right pocket and Angela barely had time to wonder if she should ask for one before it was being held out to her.

A simple walkie-talkie setup, she grinned in recognition and flipped through the dials to channel 107 before powering it up. The set cracked to life, blaring static and she flipped the filter switch and then adjusted the volume. Very glad she didn’t have to wait for them to show her or worse, have to suffer through the jolt, she didn’t look up, “Did he give you the headsets yet? Those are great. They automatically catch the spark and adjust.”

There was silence, thick and long and she glanced up to see them sharing upset looks, “Did I do something wrong already?”

Kyle moved her way, “Not you.”

She frowned in concentration. What had… her eyes narrowed, “He didn’t tell you to go to channel 107 first so there’s no shock.”

There was only the sound of their anger and she stiffened in surprise when she picked it from their thoughts, “Not on purpose. He just didn’t want to say he forgot and makes the rookies test it out.” she shrugged. “That’s the Kenn I know.”

The Eagles were muttering, casting dark looks toward the man still sitting stiffly on Adrian’s right and Kyle continued, voice not quite calm anymore, “Gear?”

They were comparing their bags to the sheets of paper from their pockets and Angela was ready this time, going to Kyle instead of the other way around. She did her look fast, frowning at all the items she didn’t have.

“I’m short a canteen.”

“I need a battery pack.”

Angela sucked in a breath, “I need a complete pack.”

There were more approving nods and then one was in her hand.

Not sure if her own items were off-limits, she settled for the three she used the most and then tossed her bag through the open window of her blazer.

“All right. Who’s the sucker on drive detail?”

“Rookie.”

“Rookie drives.”

Angela flushed as all eyes swung to hers and she shrugged, “Okay.”

Daryl tossed her the keys and she was very aware of the camp watching her get into the driver’s seat of Kyle’s vehicle. The black Ford Excursion was long, with three rows of seats and she had to move hers all the way up to reach the pedals.

She strapped herself in, waiting for Daryl to climb in beside her and she leaned closer, “Why is the driver a sucker?”

The Eagle grinned, instantly liking the way she smelled, “Cause Kyle likes to go where no man has gone before.”

Understanding her driving skills were about to be tested, Angela waited calmly for everyone to get set. She loved driving.

Kyle paused at the back door, eyes going to the center table and he caught Adrian’s nod. It said to do his job and the mobster gave a motion in response. He would.

It took a while for the kids to pick their chaperones and Sam smiled uneasily when a girl with short brown spikes pointed her way. The girl looked to be about eight and was sporting a signature-covered cast on her wrist. Next to her, was another girl of roughly the same age, this one so thin that Sam’s heart clenched.

The smile she gave this time was more genuine and both girls moved her way with giggles. Each one wanted her hand and Sam reluctantly surrendered her tea to let them hold onto her.

Sticky and warm, she waited restlessly with them as everyone got set, trying not to look at Neil. She’d seen little Becky’s blunder yesterday and though the trooper had refused, the idea that he was willing had to have come from somewhere. Did he have a thing for cute teenager? If so…

“What’s your name?” They were both waiting; thin girl’s face hopeful and Sam put her thoughts away for now.

“Sam.”

They both giggled. “That’s a boy’s name!’

Not offended, she grinned back, “I’ve heard that.”

“Why do you have a boy’s name?”

“Is it a shortner?”

Confused by the garbled word, Sam shrugged, “My mom wanted a girl, Samantha. My dad wanted a boy, Sam. This way, they both got their wish.”

They laughed harder, sharing amused looks. “That’s silly.”

Smiling Sam let them enjoy themselves; thinking until they made it here, there probably hadn’t been much of it.

She saw Neil get chosen by two very energetic boys that looked to be the same age group as her charges. The kids were bouncing, excited and she realized field trip day must be something they looked forward to. The rest of the time, Adrian kept them isolated for their safety and these moments out of the camper area were probably treasured, she thought.

Their lives had been turned around too and she felt the need to give them a good day if she could. They were war orphans and the bond she suddenly felt was something she wouldn’t tell any of them but it was there just the same. She’d lost her family too, along with everything else she had depended on for stability, sanity. Her grip tightened just a bit. They deserved a fun day and she would be proud to help give it to them.

“Everyone ready?”

There was a loud cheer from the kids. “Yeah!”

“All right, first stop is…Safe Haven’s secret hideout!”

This cheer was twice as loud and Sam let the girls lead her through out of the area. They were right behind Peggy and her group of five tweens and Sam didn’t envy the redheaded woman’s sulky twelve year old charges.

The line moved slowly across the camp, drawing attention from those already up and everyone waved. Kids roaming the streets before the War were a sight to be frowned upon or ignored for their poverty. Here, children were rare and welcome, no matter their condition.

“Must be field trip day.” Seth joked, stopping in front of the group, “Unless you guys snuck out again?”

There were snorts and giggles all around.

“We didn’t escape.” one of Peggy’s girls retorted sharply, tossing a dark braid over her shoulder, “And you know it. So come on and let us in!”

Sam frowned at the rudeness but noticed Seth and Neil only smiled.

“But I don’t know for sure.” the cute guard protested, “Bad guys look like anyone, right?”

The younger kids nodded, quieting at their own mental horrors and the girl’s voice was grave, “Yes. Even like you and Adrian.”

“Exactly and that’s why I have to ask every time anyone comes through.”

“Little kids can’t be bad guys.”

This came from another of Peggy’s group and again, Sam was glad of the two calmly listening kids that had chosen her.

“Yes, they can.”

Neil’s hard voice snapped Sam’s head to him.

“They don’t always know because the grownups are sneaky. Sometimes they ask kids to do things that are wrong.”

“And do you banish them too?”

One of his little boys asked, clinging to his arm and Neil shook his head, “Never. It’s not a kid’s fault when a grownup makes them do bad things.”

“Then the grownup should be punished.” the braid-swinging girl exclaimed brutally, “Not us!”

“Yes. If a grownup tries to get you to do things you think are bad, don’t. Lie to them and say you will and then come tell Adrian.” Seth instructed and Sam began to realize this was a training moment.

The redheaded guard checked his watch and looked around, “I wonder where he is this time?”

The kids all let out another loud cheer, startling Sam and she watched warily as they all began darting around, dragging their chaperones. Hide-n-seek?

“There he is!” Ponytail girl screamed, pointing up and the kids clustered around the trunk of the tree Adrian was sitting in.

“What’s the password?” Adrian barked at them, making Sam jump and then grin when the kids all responded.

“We love America!”

Adrian snapped a salute,”You may enter!”

He jumped down and was immediately smothered with little bodies hugging, tackling, and wrestling him to the ground.

Sam grinned again, surprised Adrian was so popular with the kids and when she started to move closer, worried about the little girl with the broken wrist, Neil caught her eye, “He’s got them.”

And he did. From tickling back and chasing, to a quick hug and smile, it was clear the kids adored Safe Haven’s leader.

“How are you?”

Sam shrugged, aware of more than one set of ears listening, “Adjusting.” she raised a brow, unable to resist even though she had serious doubts about his sense of humor, “Did he get all the mud off his jacket?”

Neil’s face went red and he pleased her by lowering his voice and returning the joke, “I was afraid to ask.”

Sam chuckled, drawing more attention, “I’m sure he’s had worse.” she commented, watching Adrian start a game of tag.

“You two ready for some coffee?” Peggy called and Sam was glad to hear that her tone was friendly enough.

“No thanks.” Neil answered.

Sam moved to get a cup, needed the caffeine rush to fully wake (that or danger) and was careful to throw out the air that she wasn’t to be messed with.

She watched Peggy’s eyes cool. Good. If she decided she wanted the uptight trooper, Peggy and her spunky daughter wouldn’t get in the way.

“Thanks.”

Peggy nodded and Sam hung around her for a moment as she sipped the strong brew, waiting to see if there might be a threat but there was only a series of cool looks exchanged. Because the mother wanted to keep the peace? Becky didn’t care about the rules. Why would her parent? From all appearances, she wanted Neil to be her son-in-law even though her child was only that, a 15 year old kid.

Some mother, Sam thought, moving back toward Adrian and the happily running orphans. To Sam’s mind, Becky was a baby compared to Neil. Did that mean she was attracted to another man with mental problems? Maybe that was the only kind…

“Okay everyone, line up.”

Peggy’s voice echoed firmly and all the dusty kids flew her way after promises of another round from Adrian.

“Get with your chaperone and you can go on in.” the redhead instructed.

Sam’s two girls clutched her hands eagerly, almost dragging her forward, “Come on!”

Laughing, Samantha moved faster into the area she’d noticed a few days ago and wondered about. Hilda had said it was where Adrian taught his army to be men and she stepped inside almost as eagerly as the kids. To her amusement, she loved it as much as they did.

Instead of the adult setup that would have to normally be used, the long tent was filled with half-sized equipment. Kid-sized, she corrected herself, letting the little girls lead her to the circular obstacle course in the middle.

“We hafta warm up.” Sam surrendered the second hot drink in an hour and began helping the girl with the cast remove her shoes and socks.

Thinking she might have to learn their names soon, Sam paced them as they walked the low beam, rolled under empty boxes, and jumped over gaps in the mat. She kept a close eye on the girl in the cast and finally had to call out; “Hey you”, when the little girl leaned too far over the beam. “Be careful...what’s your name?”

The girl hopped down with a grin, cast bumping against the hard wood with a loud thunk that made Sam wince, “Tracy. That’s Leeann.” she turned to point at the thin girl, “The rest of them are…”

The recital went on for a while and Sam tried to keep up and still watch out for Leeann.

“Your turn!”

Sam blinked. Turn? Surely it wouldn’t…She watched Peggy heft herself onto the first beam and move across smartly before rolling under the boxes in an awkward shove that sent cardboard flying.

The kids giggled hard and Sam moved to the beam with Tracy, who was now ready to do the paralleling. “When ever you’re ready.”

The little girl called, holding up her casted wrist and Sam grinned. They knew to take her place. How cute…and terrible that it was necessary. Sighing, she moved steadily along the wood, trying not to wince at a lane of pain in her old injury that keeping her leg straight was causing. If Peggy could do it, so could she.

“You want me to do what?”

Cynthia’s voice drew Sam’s eye. She had mostly forgotten about the reporter and she turned to see a boy with a bandage on his hand hopping up and down in protest.

“Run course!’ he ordered and Cynthia shook her head, “Not me.”

“But I can’t ifin you don’t!”

The child shouted but the woman only shook her head again, “Sorry, kid.”

Sam looked down at her girls, “Wanna run the course with him? You’ll have to show me how.”

“Yeah!”

They drug her to Cynthia and Sam snagged the boy’s uninjured hand, “Come on.”

The child’s face lit up and Cynthia stuttered her thanks, embarrassed.

“Uh-hu.” Sam didn’t offer more but her tone said shame on you! and Neil grinned along with the other adults. The Storm Tracker was okay.

Adrian’s Eagles- $3.99- Available for preorder.

I hope everyone is having a wonderful start to the New Year!

See you next time,

Angie

December News, Notes, and Something New

2011-12-21T08:45:00.000-05:00

So we’ve survived another year. Will this be our last?

As many of you know, today is exactly one year before the infamous date of 12/21/2012, when the world is set to end. 365 days left. Worry over it or not, the end of the world fascinates some of us. We seek it in film and literature and even in our own lives. We’ll give up date night for the apocalypse and even devote time and money we can’t afford to visit those horrific landscapes. Maybe there should be a 12 step program for us too…

“Hello, my name is Angie and I’m an end of the world junkie…”

Or maybe

“There are more of us than them now, so we don’t have to hide anymore.”

“By us, you mean?”

“The PA lovers, of course.”

“You mean there are people who don’t like post apocalyptic fiction?”

“Don’t ask me. I’ve never understood it.”

Some of the best end of the world entertainment was created before we were born and the market has been saturated since then. Some of it good, most bad, there have also been a few that were outstanding. My all time favorites will always include The Postman, The Stand, Mad Max, and the Terminator series, though most of the PA in that one didn’t come until the third installment. Those are classics that’s I’ve adored all my life. Then came the asteroid wave and a surprising thing happened. Man-made disasters were replaced on the top of that mental chart by a single film that many people have forgotten.

Armageddon was good, sometimes too funny to be realistic but solid thanks to BW. but Deep Impact (IMAO) was better with its almost taboo topics and stellar cast. You can’t go wrong with a Freeman, and the powerful horror and injustice still has me crying every time I watch it. Deep Impact is an amazing PA film, unlike “2012” and I Am Legend, which only disappointed. I’ve often thought this film was neglected by the main public because so many of the characters were lost but without those emotional parts, it would have only been just another adventure flick set in the apocalypse.

Character interaction is what is comes down to. Don’t give me lame. I’ve lived long enough to know real change and emotions take time. Thoughts require repetition to take effect. Show me what makes them tick and then bring them together in ways I can’t anticipate. You want me to love them? Okay. Write it so I can.

Notes

I spend a lot of time on personal development (And get blasted in reviews for how long it takes) but making it believable even though it’s fantasy and horror, is my job. When I first began Life After War, Cesar and his group were only a twist meant to further the setting. Once I got into it, I asked myself if that group of Mexican males would really just go home after conquering their first town with no resistance. From that moment, the Slavers have become a driving force in the book, pushing the refugees toward Adrian and the safety he’s trying to create. If these people had shown up there without the reader seeing what they’d gone through, all those special moments of triumph and strength would mean shit. Instead, you feel what they do. That’s why there had to be an On The Road. Without that journey, none of them are able to give Adrian what he needs. There has to be time for the old to wear off.

For me, that’s the next 6-8 weeks. I’ll be around but even less than now. I have a huge list of new goals for 2012 and I need some time away from social marketing and online business to make them happen. I’ve already began some of them, such as the new design of this blog and my website. I’ve also been working hard to get the first three books in this series professionally edited before Adrian’s Eagles is released. And I’ve failed in that.

News

It will be another 2-3 weeks before the new editions of books one, two, and three are ready and I refuse to release another title until those are done. I especially refuse to put Book 4 out there, the best of the series so far, to be ignored because of bad reviews on the first three.

The comments have been very harsh and personal. Did you know I’m a racist gay-basher? It came as news to me that when it’s in my book, that means its how I feel or am. Amazing, the stupidity and nerve of some people! But I can handle personal attacks and differences of opinion on how many types of nuclear detonations there are. -More than you think but mainly two, not one, like a reviewer bashed me for, claiming he knew because he lived in the area where there are a lot of silo’s and such. That’s like Palin’s Russia comment-it makes no sense!-(”I know about Russia because I can see it from my backyard.”)

But I digress…It’s hard sometimes to not answer these unhappy folks but I manage by knowing that most people who read book one(An average of 75% according to 8 months of stats) like the series and come back for book two. It’s the reviews that are true, that hurt me and I just can’t go through that again with Adrian’s Eagles. Please forgive me for the delay. I have two editors now; Daryn Malof and Mike Clancy, and in just a couple weeks, we’ll be all set for the new book. The end of January seems the best hope, though it will be sooner if there’s any way we can do it. These two wonderful guys are having to go through every sentence. That’s takes time when there are 150,000 + words per book. I’m looking at 2012 as a new start and I can’t get that until I change the mistakes of the past.

Something New

I feel bad about the delay on AE, so I’m giving you a bit of that book I hadn’t planned on. It has NOT been edited yet, so please don’t expect magic just yet. Still, it’s better than being left high and dry and I hope you’ll enjoy it.

In this scene, Angela has just asked Adrian to be an Eagle. Before he’ll give an answer, there’s a test she has to pass.

“Adrian has sent all of you here for various reasons and I promise you’ll leave bleeding. Be sure. This is no easy lesson.”

Doug looked around at the five men waiting eagerly. “You’ll notice there are some other s here, watching. They’ve been invited to see what you have to go through to become an Eagle. Don’t disappoint them or him by giving up, just because of a little pa…”
Doug looked up to see Angela step from the shadows and when she gave him a cool nod that said she had Adrian’s permission to be here, he winced but kept going.

“This lesson will cover the basics of a type of fighting that all Eagles must be proficient in by level four. Kenn and Jeremy will demonstrate until the teacher arrives.”

The dozen men craned their necks eagerly, as did those supervising. Kenn and Neil’s right hand man were a match up that hadn’t happened yet.

“If you watch this and think; I’d never be able to stand that, leave as soon as you have the thought, because you’re right. If you see the blood and think that’s okay, I’ll take a Tylenol before it starts, you might belong here.”

Angela moved slowly toward the small ring of hay bales, stomach in a hard knot. He hadn’t said Kenn would be here. “You didn’t ask.” The Witch told her, “Now you know better.”

Kenn and Jeremy were already trading hits but not the average punches. These blows were done with sharp, fast jerks and graceful slides into the other man’s personal space to deliver a vicious hit to the kidneys. This was the fighting Adrian and Neil had done while they were in the Qz and Angela moved closer to get a better view.

“You’ll notice it’s quick in and even faster out. This type of fighting is called Mai and only one person in camp knows all of it. He’ll be here in a few minutes to start your training.”

Angela assumed he meant Adrian and wondered if he and Kenn would be fighting. Jeremy was good but not nearly enough and Kenn was busy beating on him, using Neil’s moves. Had the state trooper trained her Marine or had he already known this style?

“Mai accomplished two things, fast. It causes severe pain and puts your opponent out of commission for a while.”

With those words, both men delivered two of the ugliest hits Angela had ever seen and Jeremy hit the dirt.

“Not just anyone can be good at it. Tonight, you only have to survive.” Doug waved at the biggest of the five pale men. “Jake, you’re up.”

“Aren’t you eating?”

Neil shook his head, sipping his water as he watched her devour a plate of fries covered in ketchup. “I have a lesson in a few minutes.”

Sam frowned. “I thought we were going somewhere.”

“We are.”

He was taking her to watch his lesson? She shrugged. “Okay.”

A little disappointed, she went back to her fries and Neil hid a grin. She thought he was taking a test and wanted to show off. Good. She’d be distracted from her thoughts for a while.

They’d spent a quiet ten minutes at the center table, the crowd around them falling silent the instant they’d gotten in line and it hadn’t changed. There were a hundred eyes on them and Sam’s face had acquired a permanent pink streak across both cheeks.

“So I’m really not supposed to be at this table, right? That’s why they’re all staring.”

Neil shook his head, vice low. “Sorry, I thought you knew. Their surprised because I’ve never done this before.”

Sam blinked. “Done what? Had a meal…” Her eyes widened. “They think we’re on a date!”

He nodded, grinning a little and she raised a brow. “Are we?”

Put on the spot, he couldn’t lie but his first thought was yes. “Not unless you’d like it to be.”

Not expecting a devotion of affection, she wasn’t offended and even teased him back. “And if I did, Mr. Arizona?”

Neil smiled, eyes saying more than his mouth was. “I’d be flattered and happy to play along.”

Now, the sting was there but she still went on like it wasn’t. “I’ll let you know. I’m not sure I like how you asked.”

They were both laughing as they stood up and Sam was very glad to be out of the Mess a moment later. Out here, it was just the gritty breeze, the darkness she’d been in since the war, and Neil’s comforting body next to hers.

“I’ll only be there for a half an hour and then we can do something else if you’re still wound up.” He leaned a bit closer than he normally did with any female. “I know the boss. I can sneak you into the training tent for a quick workout.”

Sam laughed, sliding into his personal space with no hesitation. “Can I have the sweaty towel too?”

“Of course.”

Still chuckling, the couple moved toward the area that Angie had found only by using her gifts.

“Now that each of you have had warm-up, Neil will show you three basic moves that you’ll practice every day on your own. Do it or not, you’ll still have to get by him for every test and he’s no easy mark.” Kenn’s tone was gloating; he’d beaten on all five of the bloody men now listening with a much clearer idea of what they’d signed up for. “When he calls you in to the tent leave your gun out here.”

During the last two matches, Angela had been looking more at those gathered for the lesson, than at the battles themselves, sensing Kenn might be hitting harder than he had to in order to show off for her. If he thought she wasn’t paying attention, he would get it over with faster and not hurt them as much.

While she was running her eyes over the half a dozen extra observers, she’d gotten only hostility, none of them willing to accept that she too was one of Adrian’s hand picked Eagles and it made her angry. She had as much right to be here as they did and besides, she wanted to be able to do this. Mai was harsh enough to allow her to handle even Kenn. She’d thought about it after seeing the matches in quarantine and here it was; the chance to know. She already had a lot to thank Adrian for and she wasn’t about to let Kenn or any anyone else stop her.

“Here’s the teacher now.”
Everyone turned to see Neil and Samantha emerging from the darkness. “First man to the tent, Tucker.”

Neil nodded toward Angela, hoping she wasn’t on the list waiting inside the small tent behind the gathered men. “Keep her company, will ya?”

Sam nodded, not sure the dark headed woman wanted it and she stopped a few feet away as Neil ducked into the tent.

The two women exchanged polite smiles but not words and they listened to the sounds curiously.

“And you’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s get to it.”

There was the sound of a struggle and then only Neil’s words.

“Like this.” Thud.

“Lower.” Slap.

“Faster.” Thud.

It sounded as if each order was following a hit and the women instinctively moved closer together for comfort as Tucker came out with a bloody face.

“Anderson.”

It was a very fast private lesson, which was the good side. There was a nervous trooper giving the lesson, having seen Angela’s name was indeed on the list. The bad side was that Neil knew he’d treat her like any of the others Adrian had sent to him for toughening up. And he hated the blond just a little for showing him that he and Kenn had more in common that he was comfortable with.

“White.”

Angela moved toward the small canvas with a thumping heart. Her fear had grown with each bleeding man to leave the tent and listening to the sounds of their battles had reminded her of the years Kenn had abused her. She and Sam the only ones still here besides Doug and a guard who’s name she didn’t know yet, now she had to face those fears or give up the idea of being an Eagle in Adrian’s army. This was why he had sent her here. To see if she could take getting and delivering, a real hit. The moments in the Qz had been carefully controlled, safe. Neil was slightly upset with her still and very unhappy to be doing this. She could feel it clearly and while she wasn’t as scared as she had been during her time with Kenn, she could feel the sweat rolling down her sides. The taste of acid was on her tongue and her body felt stiff, foreign. This wasn’t going to go well, she thought suddenly. I’ll get hurt.

She paused in the doorway, meeting Neil’s eyes as he lounged with deceptive casualness, in the middle of the bloody floor. Was that what she was really afraid of? The pain? Angela nodded. Yes. And, if there wasn’t any? “Then I wouldn’t learn it.” She muttered. ‘Pain is a memory maker.”

Neil didn’t speak, just waved her on in and she went, determined to conquer her weaknesses.

Marc spotted the two eagles around a small tent, Samantha lingering nearby and moved their way with a raised brow that was ignored by them and by the stiffly standing woman. His eyes landed on gun belts lying in font of the tent, recognizing their owner instantly and his eyes narrowed. Who was in there with Angie and what were they doing?

Sam felt Marc and Dog come up beside her but didn’t turn to look at him, not wanting to miss anything. Neil and Angela had been in there twice as long as any of the others and not one sound had been heard until a minute ago, when there had been a thud that she would almost swear was someone being hit. Was this Neil’s idea of blowing off steam? Beating on women?

Thud!

“Again.” Neil’s voice sounded pinched, like he was in pain.

Slap!

“Harder!”

Dog on his heels, Marc moved toward the tent, heart beating furiously. “What the hell is going on here?”

Thud!

“Damn.”

“Pay attention!’

“He’ll come in…”

“Do you want this or not?”

Marc hadn’t heard Neil’s tone of command and he froze in the flap at the sound of it. That was Adrian’s tone. The blond had set this up.

Thud!

Marc started to move inside, unable to see her be hit and she flung a hand out, not taking her eyes from the trooper getting set to do it again. “Don’t!”

Again, the tone of command halted him and he winced as Neil slipped inside her ring of protection and used an open palm to drill her shoulder.

Thud!

Braced for it, Angela ignored the dull throb and immediately ducked under his arm to do the same to him.

Slap!

Even hitting him her hardest, she couldn’t match the strength he was using against her and Marc was glad of the brute-like arms that drug him away from the flap. He didn’t want to do anything stupid. Yet.

Doug set him down a few feet away, ready to defend himself but Marc had gone cold, he was so furious and he didn’t move.

“He won’t hurt her.” Doug’s words were quick. “She wants to be one of us and if you don’t believe that, just watch her eyes when they come out. You’ll see.”

The big man moved away from him, blending back into the shadows and Brady took his advise, too upset to think clearly. How could she want this? She was a woman not a man!

Thud!

Brady winced and felt Sam do the same. Doug’s words hadn’t eased her anger either and she waited for it to be over, eager to deliver a scathing rebuke.

“Do it again but turn your wrist like this.”

Thud!

“Very good. That’s your homework. Train yourself to remember that pad and when you’ve built up some muscle mass, you’ll be able to deliver the same force as a man.”

Angela nodded, taking a moment to catch her breath as he made notes in book. She was still afraid but it had gone better than she’d hoped for. The trooper hadn’t wanted to really treat her the same as the others but her nasty attitude had forced him to. After a little while, she’d been able to just be herself and he’d gotten into it, liking how fast she was.

“Thanks. I know this wasn’t easy for you.”

Still in his shell, the trooper shrugged. “Adrian sends ‘em in and I beat on ‘em. That’s the way it works.”

“And if I‘d like a second lesson?”

Neil looked up in surprise. “Do you?’

She nodded right away and grinned. “In a few days, though, when these bruises heal.”

Impressed despite himself, Neil chuckled. “I’ll let him know.”

They moved out of the tent together, the tension mostly gone now and she took a minute to stop by Samantha and whisper into her ear before turning to face Marc’s anger. Nervous, she spun too fast and couldn’t hide a grimace when one of her muscles flared up in pain.

“And you want this?”

She frowned at his insulting tone. It said she was nuts. “I can’t be an Eagle without passing matchups, Brady. I have to learn and from someone who’ll actually hit me if that’s what it takes.”

“Looks like you found someone who would, though I’m surprised by who it is. I thought cops were the good guys.” He accused harshly, eyes on his friend and Angela moved into his line of sight before he could pick a fight.

“I would have gone through the same thing if I had joined the service, right?’

Trapped, he still fired back. “Yes but this isn’t the US government, it’s a group of refugees playing war!”

Angela’s frown was fast and cold. “I don’t see it that way and neither do these men. It’s for America.”

“It’s for Adrian.” Marc sneered, really angry with her for the first time since they’d been reunited. “And I can’t believe you’re so fast to follow. What happened to not being back under some man’s thumb?”

“He’s not just some man and I’m free to do what I want. You should remember that.”

Looking between them, Dog whined uneasily and the sound brought both of them back to where they were and who they were about to fight with.

Marc snapped his mouth shut, trying to regain control and when he finally spoke, his tone demanded honesty. “Why an Eagle, Angie?"

Expecting it, she didn't look at him as she answered, didn't want him to see the evasions in her eyes. "I like how it felt to help those kids from the airfield. I like how it felt to be a part of something that good. We gave them their lives back."

Marc didn't call her on the short answer to his question. There was more to it than that and he knew it was important to their future.

"Is it about us?" He asked suddenly and didn't like the dismay and guilt he saw on her face.

"No, I'm sorry. It isn't."

He shrugged, trying not to let her see the sting. "You've got other prospects. I understand.”

Angela frowned. "What would make you think that?" She held up a hand before he could explain, too tired and sore to fight with him too. "Doesn't matter. It has to do with the women here. In case you've forgotten, Kenn's the only one who always thinks of himself and his wants. I like to consider helping other people, not just screwing them."

She stomped off and Marc let het go, anger starting to fade. He didn’t have the right to tell her to stop any more than Kenn did but it hurt just the same. He wondered what her real reasons were. Maybe she still didn't feel safe. Maybe it really was about helping the women. Or, maybe, he thought, heading for his tent with a last glare at the watching state trooper, maybe Angie had just lied to him.

My New Years Resolution

Okay, I don’t really do those. Let me just tell you what I hope for in 2012. Great health for my kids (We’ve had a long winter already), peace on earth, (Unlikely but still a nice dream, right?)and seven new books with my name on them. Three will be from the LAW series.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, every one of you!

Did you know you can get the deluxe version of Life After War for free right now? It’s on Amazon only, free from 12/21, until 12/23, as my gift to you. If you miss the dates, it will be featured on Kindle Nation Daily at a discounted price, on 12/31.

Angela White

Chance to win hundreds of free books-Guest Post

2011-12-09T13:22:00.000-05:00

Hi again everyone. Once again Angela has lent me some space on her blog to talk about whats going on with mine. Right now I am in the middle of what I am calling the Winter Holiday Book Giveaway Extravaganza. Pretty crazy title huh? I think that the over 300 books being given away justifies it though. I am constantly amazed by the generosity of the indie author community as the giveaway started with me posting an idea about it on my Goodreads book club (http://www.goodreads.com/group/show/53792.Indie_Book_Club).

Next thing I know there are people offering 50 copies of their books to be given away!! Even now there are people offering me copies of their books to add to the giveaway. During the first week there have been about 25 new additions to the already massive prize pool. So if you are an author that would like to participate send me a message on Goodreads (http://www.goodreads.com/user/show/5089881-scott) and if you are a reader who wants some free stuff stop by and leave a comment with an email address.

http://indiebookblogger.blogspot.com/2011/11/winter-holiday-book-giveaway.html

Thanks for having me as a guest once again Angela. I appreciate your willingness to share your blog with me.

Fiction verses Non-Fiction-A Guest Post

2011-12-02T13:58:00.000-05:00

Carl Douglas, Author of The Baltimore Principles, shares his view on Fiction vs non Fiction.

Regardless of whether one writes fiction or non-fiction, an author can only write about what he or she knows. I discovered that the best writers are those who have done the best research. Take for example my good friend Luanne Rice, a novelist who has written a couple dozen best-sellers. I know for a fact she does tons of research for each of her fictions. This is what puts life into her fictional characters and settings. Non-fictions are true stories but the authors can only write what they can prove as fact. They don't have an artistic license to insert little goodies to make a story more exciting. I can tell you it's hard to make any person or event exciting when little had been documented.

All writers need to be good story tellers and have a way with words. Beyond a doubt, fictions are far more entertaining than non-fictions and do inspire the reader's imagination. Fictions are also educational and reading them is the best method for developing ones vocabulary.

We non-fiction writers don't tell stories but rather re-tell stories. While our works aren't as entertaining, our stuff is definitely more educational. We have to be careful not to get too cute with our words or else a simple statement can lose its true meaning or context. This can be tough because what writer wants to be boring? However, I find because most of my readers are searching for the truth they appreciate getting "just the facts" without any wordy distortions or distractions. As a researcher, I too, am a big fan of "straight to the point" documentation.

What's funny is that good fiction writers have to read a ton of non-fictions for their research while good non-fiction writers have to read a bunch of fictions to improve their writing skills. Who would have thunk?

In a way, non-fiction writers are teachers. I believe we have to explain why something is important to learn. This goes back to my high school days as we students would ask, "Why do we need to learn this?" I'm sorry to say that most of my teachers really couldn't tell us. With that said, I always try to answer this question with all my works.

Writing THE BALTIMORE PRINCIPLES proved extra challenging. I wrote several drafts but just could not make the history flow nor keep my editor's interest. Frustrated, I tossed everything and tried a different style. I wrote it as if I was telling my best friend about something really cool I had recently discovered. My editor loved it and, thus far, everyone else has too.

The Baltimore Principles

Read a Review

Win a Copy

Read a Sample

The Caller -A New, Unpublished Story!

2011-11-27T17:30:00.000-05:00

The family of four had been surviving on their own since the War of 2012.

Five years had gone by, the last two without them seeing another person and there were no signs of their old world returning.

The bombs had made most of the land unlivable. The radiation and mutations had spread quickly and this small group was all that remained of normal life for hundreds of miles around their small cabin in. Set in the hills of Kentucky, it was a sturdy, nearly airtight shelter that had saved them the fate of their neighbors.

“What are ww..we hunt…ttiiin, daddy?”

The seven year olds stutter was painful to hear. It made the man’s heart hurt but he smiled at the golden haired child. “Turkey. It’s Christmas.”

That was something new and the boy grew appropriately quiet as they crept closer to the pond’s edge. Their movements were and slow and careful and yet wrong, like something was wrong with their legs. The lack of fresh food was taking its toll.

“Gobble.”

The noise brought a smile to both their dirty faces and the father silently pulled his sharpened walking stick from the pack on his back.

“Gobble.”

“Sniff. Gobble.”

The sounds weren't right either, even for this post apocalyptic hell but the hunters paid it little mind as they sprang up from behind the decaying water plants.

“Dad!”

Too late, they saw the wolves and the wild canines lunged toward them, leaving the looted duck nest.

“Get down!”

The father swung his hand, where a flashing blade now began to blaze through the air. On a tightly wound rope, the sound of the Caller echoed for miles.

“Oohhh.!’

It was a howling, high pitched whine with horribly loud tones that made the boy cover his deformed ears.

The wolves reacted with confusion too, whimpering, and the man swung it harder.

“Whoo…”

It went higher and the predators began to back up, snarling their fury. It drove them back with only sound used and the small pack ducked into the underbrush with a last lingering glare.

:oohhh…!”

It was spinning nearly out of control now and the man forced his fingers to let go. The object was not totally inanimate and the sound lingered for a moment even after it slid into the grass. It made an awful moan as it ended, leaving an amazed silence.

“It worked!"

The child’s speech was clear as a bell and the father watched him run gracefully to the Caller. His eyes widened. The ears were normal!

The child flashed him a grin, an intelligent grin and the father struggled to breathe. What magic was this?

“The book was right, daddy!”

Not a trace of slur. The man took the object carefully, stunned. Now he knew what the inscription meant. “Your heart’s wish if it is pure.” He’d just been thinking how much he loved his son despite the deformities and flaws. And his wish had been granted! The boy was healed!

Later that evening, the man sat by the fire with a tattered notebook in his hand, listening to his wife and children talk as they prepared a holiday feast with almost no food. He thumbed through the brittle pages absently. Had it’s author survived?

Angela’s Journal.

The man rubbed his sore wrist thoughtfully. So many of the things in it were true! What if the people were also? A refuge for survivors.

“No turkey?”

“No, honey.” The nine year old girl nodded resignedly, thin shoulders drooping.

“Oh. Okay.”

The man’s gust twisted with the need to do something. A refugee camp would have food and vitamins and water. He ran a calloused thumb over the journal’s weather beaten cover. The directions said always southeast. Surely a group that big wouldn’t be hard to find?

“I’m thankful anyway, momma. Cause Alex got fixed. Now, he can run!"

“We all are darling. We all are.”

The wolves had trapped them, starved them. His wrist ached deeper. Had. Now, there might be a way out and some magic to ease the trip.

“Love you, momma.”

“Love you too, sissy.”

“What about me?”

The three of them hugged, exchanging their emotions and the man could take no more. He stood up, ragged journal clenched tightly in his grip.

“Pack it up, woman. “ The hope in his voice shocked them all.

“We leave for Safe Haven at first light.”

Check out the book this is based on.

Weight Loss for Wimps, a special guest post by Kevin Myers

2011-11-25T12:32:00.000-05:00

With the coming holidays, weight loss is always a hot topic so I thought I’d invite author of Weight Loss for Wimps to speak to us for a minute about his new book. Take it away, Kevin...

Thanks Angie and everyone reading this. I love to talk about my book. I love helping people feel as good as I do. So…

Are you feeling angry, upset, fearful or sad about your weight... how about jealous or envious? Good! Fantastic! Maybe you've reached the all-important "tipping point!"

Losing weight, just like gaining weight, is an emotional experience. Weight Loss for Wimps is the solution you're looking for to learn HOW to channel your negative emotions and let your positive emotions run wild. This is the process of "getting your mindset mojo!"

You Might Be a Weight Loss Wimp If...
* Your favorite restaurant is an all-you-can-eat buffet
* You start thinking about your New Year's resolution in June
* The longest you ever stay on a diet is 4 days, tops
* You count ketchup as a "vegetable"
* You don't want to go to the wedding or class reunion because of your weight

Finally, a book that includes (among many other things) a step-by-step action plan to combat the most powerful diet busters (Bad Boys) known to man:

* How to deal effectively with Hunger (real and fake)
* How to knock-out any and all Excuses
* How to control and conquer Emotional Eating
* How to minimize Stress in your daily life (easier than you think!)

And, you will also be introduced to an exercise protocol that takes as little as 15 minutes that can even be done at home or at work. Here are some of the key points to the book, which is at a holiday value right now of only $4.99.

The #1 cause of weight loss failure can almost ALWAYS be traced to the lack of skills in dealing with the negative emotions experienced on a daily basis during the early weeks of the weight loss process

Weight loss success or failure is about EMOTIONS. Dealing with negative emotions and focusing on positive emotions. This is the process of "getting your mindset mojo."

We are raising the first generation of children who will die at a younger age than their parents

Many obese people have just given up because they have not learned HOW to change their bad habits

You're fat (sorry...overweight!) primarily because you eat when you're NOT HUNGRY and keep eating until your plate is clean

The Weight Loss for Wimps™ protocol is all about getting you looking as good or better than you did in high school

Obesity needs to become as unacceptable as cigarette smoking

If you have fat kids, it's your fault; do something about it today. Adopt healthy lifestyle skills and teach them to your children. Lead by example.

Imagine you at your next class reunion...seeing the heads turn, the whispers, the jaws drop as YOU "strut your stuff" walking across the room

What we're dealing with in America is what I call "cultural obesity." Because 2 out of 3 people are overweight or obese, being fat has become socially acceptable. This trend must be reversed.

Going on a "diet" is absolutely the wrong way of thinking - it's like "how long can you hold your breath under water?" It's just a short-term endurance contest with yourself.

The only solution is to make a permanent lifestyle change. You already know what to do i.e. "cut the crap and burn the fat"; the issue is HOW do you do that and do it in a way that gives you permanent weight loss?

Weight Loss for Wimps will give you the answer.

November News & Notes

2011-11-24T19:30:00.001-05:00

Happy Turkey month everyone! I hope your year has been everything you wanted it to be back in January.

This is a short post and my second to last of 2011, other than a few guest spots. I’m taking some time off, starting right now and email will be the only thing I respond to until after the first of the year. I have so many projects going that I’m being pulled between them instead of creating magic and I miss that spark. I’ll be back when I’ve completed a few things and spent some time with my family.

Notes

· If you’ve placed orders, no worries! Your items will still arrive when they’re set to. Same for those I owe blog posts to or interviews. There should be a message or file in your email this evening.

· I’ve recently revamped my website and I would love feedback. It would also be wonderful if you felt like adding a comment or signing the guestbook. It’s kinda lonely in there… www.law-angelawhite.com

· I have other books being released at the end of this year, much to my surprise. Things came together this month better than I expected and those new stories will be available soon. They are fantasy romance, with one being namely Vampires. Both of these were in notebooks in my closet for a long time and it’s great to finally see them getting some attention. I hope you’ll like them, even though they don’t hold quite as much of my end of the world obsession. That’s not to say the apocalypse isn’t in them. That wouldn’t be the truth. lol

· The private Screening for Adrian’s Eagles hasn’t been set yet. When it has, dates and invitations will be sailing around.

Now, for the News

I’ve taken some harsh but honest advice and begun the work of rewriting The Survivors. I hate to say rewrite, as it is more like cutting and tightening and fixing basic spelling and grammar issues. When the final version goes live, I’ll be sending out notices if I have your email and of course, I’ll post it here.

I will also be trying to get Amazon to offer the updated copy. The new book will have less in it. If you liked the extras scenes that didn’t really need to be there, then you should decline the update when they notify you.

What if you want to keep the copies you have now and get the new ones? We all know Kindle doesn’t support more than one version of a book at a time but the deluxe (which has books 1-3) can be purchased and this way, you’ll have your old copies and the new.

What about the price? On 12/31, the deluxe edition will be the Kindle Daily Deal, which means it might be as much as half off. I’ll try to remember to include a notice about it with December’s new and notes post. I hope to have the first three books redone by the release of Adrian’s Eagles.

Speaking of book four, I think it’s time for something new…

In this scene, Adrian is trying to start a bond between his reluctant men and the first female eagle by having her watch lessons while his top men point out the things that matter most. Angela, fueled by an earlier argument with Brady, has no idea of the leader’s ultimate plans for her but it is clear the road to what she wants hasn’t gotten any smoother.

“We leave in an hour. Is everything set on this side?”

He barely sounded out of breath, Angela noticed, watching him use the shirt to wipe his bloody face. His jaw was already swelling, skin bruised and she realized Marc and Brady having shiners wasn’t something so big here and it made her feel better. The camp had to be used to seeing them this way. To get so good, they’d done this many times.

“All set, Boss.”

Adrian nodded. “Good. Neil has point until we break for camp tonight.”

The trooper stiffened, recognizing a punishment but didn’t say anything as Adrian left.

“What did you do?” Kyle asked curiously and Neil spoke without thinking. “I wasn’t paying attention to the lesson he wanted me to give Barbie here.”

Silence fell and this time, Angela did duck her head. “How does that feel?” the witch asked cruelly. “There’s more of the same waiting if you choose this path.”

Angela’s cheeks were blazing but instead of the tears most of them were expecting, she shrugged. “It’s not my fault you were slacking off. When he gives me a job, I do it.”

She spun from the tent as words rose behind her and drew up when she saw Adrian waiting just outside the flap.

“You handled that well. Would have been better if you’d hit him.”

Inside the tent, there was now a fresh silence where ears strained to hear what the boss man would say and a state trooper cringed.

“I’m not that good yet but I want to be.”

“And will you devote everything that you are? They do.”

Angela nodded without hesitation. “Yes. I want to be an eagle in your army.”

Inside the tent, Marc froze and everyone waited, almost holding their breath for his answer.

“I’ll get back to you on that.”

Angela nodded, almost smiling. “I’ll be here.”

Adrian’s Eagles

Now Available for Preorder on my website (The link above)-$3.99

Available for preorder on itunes- 12/1

Available for preorder on Amazon- whenever they get around to it. Sorry.

Have Happy Thanksgiving!

Angie

Life After War Notes & Secrets (DFT)

2011-11-22T17:30:00.000-05:00

Cesar was born without a conscience. He feels no sympathy, even for his own people.

Maria was sent to infiltrate Safe Haven and never reported back to the Slavers but you have to wonder about her loyalty...

Tonya longs to be accepted and in a position of authority. She wants to make the rules so she can never be hurt again.

Cynthia was on the trail of the story that broke the war and she'll hunt it as long as she'll hunt the mystery of who Adrian really is.

Adrian, with his daughter's help, once executed a Mexican drug lord that may have been Cesar's father.

Alexa killed a doctor at the orphanage when she was ten. Her first kill. Since then? Hundreds.

Kyle has 17 kills marked on his belt and secretly likes his women young.

Angela would really rather be alone than anyone's mate. Of all those who know her, Adrian sees it first.

Rick, along with sabotaging weapons, likes to use fire and clever ambushes to help the Slavers conquer survivors.

Brady needs to be needed. If the woman can make it on her own, he feels useless, unwanted.

Kenn secretly longs to be in charge and while he'd never steal Adrian's thunder, it's a comfort to him to know he'll inherit leadership if anything ever happens to the blond.

Check out this book.

A Cranberry Thanksgiving (Story Sunday)

2011-11-20T17:30:00.002-05:00

As a young bride, I often tried, without success, to impress my new in-laws by hosting family gatherings and cooking for everyone. Their respect was very important to me and out of lovefor my husband, they always showed up. A year after we were wed, I sent out the invitations, declaring the whole clan must come for a Thanksgiving Feast like no other. I had a wonderful menu planned that included many dishes I had never made before and I set about it with my Betty crocker Cookbook and determination to make them remember the meal forever.

I spent 14 hours straight in the kitchen, placing each dish into a tightly sealed tupperware bowl the day before. I had planned to reheat the courses as we wanted them, spreading the meal out over hours, where I had various forms of entertainment planned. The house smelled like a buffet and all day long, I kept having to sweep my husband from the room to keep him out of the blue and green bowls growing higher and higher in the refrigerator.

Finally, it was time for the gathering and I hurried to get everything ready for the first course, which included a vegetable tray, pineapple shrimp tenders, and a homemade cranberry sauce salad. During this time, my in-laws were arriving, being greeted by my husband and settling in to enjoy all the great odors in the air. I served them a light wine and the first course right on time and my pride was evident in how I hovered and offered seconds.

Then it came time for the main course. Turkey giblet gravy over homemade stuffing and slabs of smoked turkey and russet potatoes with green beans and ham chunks. I reheated and brought it out on trays, watching anxiously as the first bites were taken. And there was silence.

Now, my husbands family liked me very much and would not hurt my feelings but my young husband, with half a bite still in his mouth, calmly asked if I had used cranberries in all of the meals. Everything tasted like the sharp berries and when I looked closer, I could see every dish had that vivid swirl of red. Somehow, the cranberry salad had bled into my other dishes.

I hurried to the kitchen to serve another course and was horrified to find that all the lids on my Tupperware bowls had come loose and a simple spill had ruined every dish I made. I immediately burst into tears and locked myself in the bathroom. When my husband and his snickering family pried me out, we went out to a Perkins restaurant for our Thanksgiving Feast. It tasted nothing like cranberries.

A few years later, I took my Betty crocker cookbook and Tupperware bowls back out of storage and tried again, with much more success but everyone in the family still laughs when someone mentions cranberries.

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!

Under Attack (DF Tuesday Excerpt)

2011-11-15T17:30:00.000-05:00

“Don’t move!”

Her tone froze him with his hands splayed out in the dirt and he sensed movement near his fingers as she slowly drew her weapon.

“Roll to your right when I start and come up firing. Targets at 10, 2, & 3.” Marc heard the soft pad of paws, more than one, and watched her eyes for the moment to react.

“Shit. Two more at 12 o’ clock.” Angela watched the three lanky, gray and white wolves, trying to judge their intentions, and then a big black and gold animal she hadn’t seen lunged toward Marc from the shadows, and there was only time to react.

Angela fired, a bit wildly on the first few shots, and one of the rounds caught the wolf in mid leap, slamming into its chest. It landed on the ground with a hard thud as Marc rolled and hit his feet, began to fire.

“Watch your six!” He warned, immediately sure they were pack hunting, and he put them back to back as the brittle stalks around them swayed with barely seen movement. The sky had begun to darken as they worked out but neither had worried, used to being in the dark, but this time they had let dangerous predators get close, and now, they might have to pay for their lack of attention.

They were under attack suddenly, moving eyes gleaming at them through the dusk tinted rows, and they fired at the same time, dropping two wolves that had jumped from opposite sides.

A dark shadow appeared at her hip, and Angela stopped herself from firing as she recognized Dog, eyes narrowing on a stocky white wolf running in and out of the distant, yellow stalks. Before she could take aim, knowing the leader being killed might discourage the rest, the power coming from the white animal marked it clearly as such, another shadow streaked passed her.

“Damn it!” Again, she kept herself from firing by only a hair. “Dog just went to my right, chasing the white one.” Marc nodded, turning them to face another duel jump meant to separate. They came in low, lunging for legs, and both shots killed, but two more hungry hunters jumped at Angela, coming fast.

“Duck!” She shouted, firing. She got the low animal in the chest as the other went sailing overhead and she heard Marc take care of it as more and more eyes shined mercilessly in the dimness. Wolves were now streaming through the corn like rats.

Making sure they stayed tightly against each other, Marc moved them in half circles, firing and kicking at those not hungry enough to lunge but still bold enough to snap, and he could feel Angela doing the same behind him, her grunts and shots mirroring his.

Flames flared shot up behind them suddenly, Marc catching a tall shadow from the corner of his eye as he turned, shot a leaping wolf in the chest, turned, killed a snapping wolf going for Angie’s leg.

More fire erupted, along with the pungent smell of gasoline as full darkness fell over them, and some of the wolves hesitated but not those hungry frontrunners and Angela jerked forward, stiff-arming a determined predator in the throat. Her gun was empty and she knew by the silence behind her that Marc's was too. Drooling, fur bushed up, the wolves moved closer, eyes hungry.

Angela fumbled for the clip on her belt as Marc turned them again, slamming his in as two more wolves lunged. He caught one in the neck, blood spraying, and he shoved them backwards in time to let the second animal go sailing by.

“Incoming!” Reloaded, Angela shot the wolf as it hit the hard ground and fired at eyes in the air, backdropped by darkness, then the flames were between her and the corn as Marc rotated them again. Shadows lunged, coming through gaps in the wall of fire, and she picked them off, assuming Brady’s silent gun meant he was reloading.

Marc stared at the huge man intently, the 3/4 circle of flames discouraging many of the animals. The newcomer was huge, eight by five it seemed like, and yet he was light on his feet as he poured the last of the gasoline to close the gaps.

“Stay inside.”

The newcomer instructed gruffly without turning, voice heavy under his furs and hood, and before Marc could say anything, Angela spun them, gun empty. She gasped in surprise at the big man but just like Marc, her fingers didn’t stop. She had to be ready when he turned them again.

“On your right, woman!” She slammed the clip home and fired without looking, almost able to hear the slobbering jaws about to clamp down on her ankle, heard a heavy body thud to the ground.

“Dog! Guard her!” Marc shouted, firing, and the wolf appeared at her side, bloody muzzle snarling viciously at two more animals trying to sneak through a thin gap in the fire wall.

Angela muttered a curse as three more wolves slunk into the ring and heard Brady echo her expletive as he fired repeatedly, hit them all. They were in deep. Time to let the Witch out and worry about the consequences later.

Check out this book.

Life After War Deleted Scene

2011-11-14T19:30:00.000-05:00

“Go faster, John! Faster!”

“Hold on!” The salt and pepper Doctor swung the wagon into the dark woods that lined the road and killed the engine a few yards in, glad for the heavy fog and cover of night.

“Down! Low as you can!” The elderly couple shoved themselves into the floorboard as best they could, the hurting man stifling a groan at the cramped position, glasses sliding unnoticed from his face as the sound of engines grew closer.

“Pop-Pop!”

“Sscreeachhh!” Headlights flashed their way and they tried to get lower, the gunshot and engines upon them as the storm rolled overhead.

“I love you, Johnnie. Have since we was kids.” A cold hand locked onto his hairy wrist through the sleeve of his plaid shirt and he covered it with his own shaking fingers, afraid he might wet himself despite all his efforts not to.

“And I you, My sweet Anna.”

The large group of cars began to fly by and they froze, listening to the shots, wincing at each whine and ricochet, waiting for the slug that would plunge into their frail bodies. Drunken shouts echoed, along with thuds of metal hitting, scraping. Rain thumped on the roof, a tire squealed, and a bullet pinged off the bumper, making them both jump and their grip on each other tightened, the fog really all that was keeping them from certain, painful death.

Long minutes later, the gang was out of sight, their noises fading and then there was silence, but John kept them still for another fifteen minutes, only moving when the bands of pain around his gut were causing tears to slip out of his eyes against his will, terrified it was a trick, that they’d been seen.

Without lights, John turned them back west on 40, away from the gang. They would still go to Cheyenne Mountain, they would just have to take a different path.

“How long will this add?” John slid his glasses back on, hating to stay on 40, all the fires and bullet holes in every rusty car and weed covered house they passed telling him this was the gangs back path.

“Couple hours. We have to get off these frontage roads but we’ll still make Routt Ridge by dawn.” Anne nodded, wrinkled fingers turning on the heat and defrost, and then digging in the bag behind his seat.

“Here.” She dropped two white pills into his wrinkled hand and held out an open mason jar of clear liquid, and John took them with a grateful look in his faded blue eyes. His gut was on fire, blood in his temples pounding in time with his pain, and she said nothing, just turned on c.b., and went back to checking channels. He was her man, her love, and she wouldn’t let him suffer. She had a good idea what was wrong, had been a nurse long enough to read the signs, and now, it would be a secret between them no more.

John’s eyes went over the foggy landscape, able to see only faint outlines of Dude Ranches and big game hunting lodges. Other than those and the occasional farm house or dead vehicle in the road, there was almost nothing around here. It had been isolated before. Now, it was desolate except for the bluegrass that was exceptionally tall, up to the wagons roof in some places.

Wind whistling and howling thru the shadowy darkness, they moved steadily through the foggy drizzle for the next four hours, John making good time but when he saw all the bodies, and cars that were still smoking, he began to worry more. This had been a group of travelers, maybe even a large family, and the gang had killed them all. The gangs back trail was leading straight to Norad. Had they been there too?

The old man that lurked inside winced as another bump jarred him against the sharp spring sticking out of the seat and he shifted, trying to avoid it as the ’74 wagon chugged along the soldering streets of Granby, Colorado. He hoped Anne would stay asleep despite the rough ride and he tried to take it easy so she would. They'd been on the road for five days now and he’d been careful to find ways through that didn’t require physical labor. They weren’t spring chickens and he wasn’t taking any more chances than he had to. They were both a bit stiff and a little sore but had talked and agreed they felt more alert than they had in a long time and that was why he hoped she kept snoring gently from the blanket-filled passenger seat.

One look out the foggy window and she would know they were in danger again. Signs of a battle littered the area and the winners had marked their victory with devastation. Homes in flames with even the pine trees on the front lawn on fire, their cheery Christmas lights melting to their branches, cars rammed through buildings, and bodies of fresh dead, even horses laying where they’d been shot. The blood hadn’t dried yet and he was horrified to see their tires leaving bloody tracks but could do nothing about it. The puddles were unavoidable.

Even with the windows up, the smells were stomach turning. Blood, shit, charred skin, and when he lowered the glass, stopped for a moment to listen for survivors, all he heard was the wind, the crackling of the flames, and nothing else. The equality state was no longer that. Now, only the strongest would survive and those with them, John thought, looking over at his wife, before turning his eyes back to the dangerous land around them. He hated it that there was no moon, no stars, just grit and thick, nasty smelling smoke. Like a damn episode of the Twilight’s Zone, he complained silently, grateful the pills were pushing back the agony as he watched for signs of survivors to help but the gang had been very thorough and after a long minute, he got them rolling again. Granby was now a big cemetery without a headstone.

Dawn was just starting to break as they cleared the city limits, the dusty sky barely hinting at light, and while he knew he couldn’t go another full day without sleep, he also knew they weren’t stopping near here, not even for a stretch. Those men might...

“Want me to drive?” Anne asked, making him jump. “I’ve got my glasses.” He nodded, smiling tightly as he loosened the belt over his swollen abdomen.

“Yes, but not yet. We’ll switch after brunch and I’ll snooze in your warm spot.” She smiled back as she adjusted her silk shawl tighter over her sweater, then closed her eyes and laid her head back on the pillow against the locked door. Instead of giving him hell about not telling her he was sick, clearly she knew, she was letting him lead and it made him relax a little, thinking again that after all these years, she was still able to surprise him. She’d handled the trip well. Had she too been just a little bored, a little restless?

Hell of a way to get an adventure, he thought, still wishing they could see the stars. There was a bite to the wind that said they’d be running the heater all day and he was very glad of the cans on the luggage rack. Three hours at a gas station with a foot pump had given him a nasty backache but they were good for two weeks of driving now and he hoped to find a safe place long before it ran out.

Along with the gang they’d just hidden from, there had also been other dangers on this trip, like the radiation victim that had snuck up on them in the fog three days ago and almost got the door open before he could get the wagon into drive. Talk about taking some years off his life, he thought with a touch of bitterness. The weather sucked to drive in, but at least the acid rain would force the walking dead to hole up somewhere and start dying. With the open sores and lack of reasoning skills, the zombies would go to ground and not come up.

John’s eyes went over the rear of the wagon, over the black tarp that hid their things. All of their lives was with them as they inched along without headlights, heading toward the Government compound, but really, he was just looking for people like themselves to join for protection. He knew they were out there, gathering, he could feel the pull of their calls but they saw no one and the blue ford kept on chugging.

Half an hour before dawn barely lit the sky, the rain and fog had lightened and the wagon was on Routt Ridge, the occupants waiting silently but their hope was gone, the smoke thick, undeniable. Their safety was in flames.

The Doctor watched the area around them, eyes seeing ants taking the poison bait balls he’d throw out the glass when they’d first stopped. The ants were big but their hill was huge, three foot high and probably 5 foot wide, with a snakeskin and the bones of lizards scattered around it. The order of nature had been reversed and even here, the smells of smoke, rot, and mildew lingered under the fresh scent of clean air and pine trees.

“Check the channels again, Anna. Maybe we’ll hear survivor's.” She did it slowly and they head nothing. Until the last station and John put a light hand on his wife’s wrist to keep her from changing the channel, almost able to feel something coming.

“Wait.” A second later, the radio lit up.

“Safe Haven… Red Cross… picking up survivors…. Follow… clear means closer…”

They lost it, the radio going back to static and John looked at her, not needing to see the horrors in the bunker to know they were there. Anne nodded, voice shaky but there was confidence in her aged brown eyes. Confidence in him.

“Whatever you think, Johnnie.” He hesitated, considered. They could at last check them out from a distance. With Norad gone, there really was no where else he could think of for them to go. If that complex had fallen, and the pillars of sickly black smoke said it had, then no place was safe.

“All right.” He headed them west, sure they couldn’t have heard the transmission if the people were south, the mountains wouldn’t allow the waves to carry. He’d narrow it down by the clarity of the calls and they’d at least check on this so called Safe Haven and hope it was indeed that.

He still believed leaving their home was the right thing to do, they’d started seeing rats in the days before and his last memory of the home they’d shared for so long, was of hanging the, Warning! Rats!, sign on the front door. They would probably be sick by now, he’d waited as long as he could, and though he knew the group they ended up with probably wouldn’t be what he was hoping for, if his beloved wife would be safe and have a guaranteed place after he was gone, they’d offer theirs services in exchange. If that didn’t work, he’d beg.

Check out this book.

Dancing with Duality: Confessions of a Free Spirit

2011-11-13T12:08:00.001-05:00

Betrayed at the age of 21 by the first love of her life, Stella Vance embarks on a life of fearless adventure. She travels the world, adding notches to her lipstick case with lovers from all over the world, and surviving harrowing experiences, including abuse, addiction, abortion, date rape, and cult involvement. Along the way, Stella undergoes a spiritual transformation. Once awakened to the reality of nonduality, she gradually realizes that life is just a game, that death is just another dimension, and that nothing “out there” can really hurt her.

This inspiring page-turning memoir begins in the 1970s, with Stella as a Christian zealot. Subsequently questioning all religious dogma, Stella’s mystical quests leads her to delve deeply into the realms of dreams, psychic readings, astrology, tantric yoga, reincarnation and her own past lives, the entheogen ketamine, Indian holy men and women, revolving-door relationships, the seeker culture of southern California, and finally, the ultimate path of Advaita Vedanta. At the same time, she deals with anorexia and bulimia, addictions to cigarettes, marijuana, and alcohol, unwanted pregnancies, teaching in public schools, the death of several loved ones, foreclosure, and emigrating to South America.

The life of Stella Vance embodies all the adventure, drama, romance, humor, and philosophy of a free spirit set loose in the ’70s and finding its way into the new millennium. Reading Dancing with Duality provides evidence that life is meant to provide entertainment, as well as to teach us how to be grateful, forgive, and heal from all its vagaries.
In the end, Stella’s free spirit journey takes her on the path to the ultimate freedom: freedom from the mind with all its fears, judgments, limiting beliefs.

Dancing with Duality by Stella Vance

This book has search inside-Check it out!

Character Profile: Kyle Genovesi (DF Tuesday)

2011-11-08T17:30:00.003-05:00

Kyle Reece Genovesi

Age: 35

Eyes: Blue

Height: 5'11"

Weight: 185 lb.

Birthday: 10/6/77

Hair: Short Black Curls

Race: Italian American

Career before the War: - A Captain the Mob.

After the War: Level 6 in Adrian's Army.

Quote: "Whatever you need, I'll see to it."

Strengths:
- He was raised and trained to anticipate, prepare, and handle problems.

- Loves America, almost as much as Adrian.

Weaknesses:

- He has a fear of failure that often makes him fall short of others around him.

- He secretly likes his women young. Very young.

FBI Notes:

-There is no record on Kyle Genovesi.

Backstory

Kyle was raised in a family where he was expected to kill upon an order. It's never set well and kept him from rising above a captain. He has always longed for more and his restlessness has made him very perceptive to the vibrations around him.

Considered the black sheep, Kyle can be ruthlessly cold and calculating. He may not like delivering senseless death, but has never refused or failed an order.

Never married and without children, he expected to die alone and young until the war came and freed him. Sent him to Adrian's side.

Kyle dreamed that he and his family were destroyed by an attack, and was so afraid that he warned his family and took a trip to CA. He was the only surviving family member.

Check out this book.

Justice (Story Sunday)

2011-11-06T17:30:00.000-05:00

Dedicated to all the animals suffering from mankind's indifference.

"How much?"

"Almost 60,000 barrels a day."
"Worst in history."
"Won't matter. It's what insurance is for."
"It's what we're for."

The voices carried easily in gusting shore winds and those listening unseen, felt the hate grow deeper in their hearts.

"We report it's not that bad, that it's breaking up, people start to relax. Stocks go back up."
"And then its business as usual, right?"
"Yep. Ain't nothing money won't buy."

Their snickers and indifference marked them as the enemy, even if the yellow vests and clipboards had not, and the investigators moved toward the narrow sea cave like foreign invaders surveying their loot.

"How much you think the insurance will cover?"

"Most. It's cheaper to pay premiums than to develop the technology to handle spills. British Petroleum is paid up for the next decade."
"Wish they'd pay those coastal fishermen so the reports would stop winding people back up."
"Me too."

The oil inspectors reached the cave as the next swell rushed in and their boots were covered in a thick layer of rainbow sludge.

"It's still coming in."

"It will for a long time. Remember to wipe those off before you head back."
"You too."
"Yeah. Don't want any proof it's gotten this far yet."

The men moved into the dim, sludge lined cave with uneasy glances and the sound of the water rushing in grew louder, hungry. They began to measure and collect samples and neither of them noticed the shadows getting closer as they talked.

"Guess the new cap’s holding."
"Pictures look good. You think they're real?"
"I doubt it. The government only shows people what it wants them to see. Once we say it's staying out there, the news will grow bored with it and find another story."
"Hard to hide all those bodies, though."
"It's just fish. The birds'll clean it up."
"But won't it be another big story?"
"No. In case you haven't noticed, there's no one on these beaches now. Tourism here is gone for a long time."
"Still, the residents have taken pictures and the camera crews fly over all the time."
"Won't matter. Money shuts people up. Just have to find the right price."
"Can't argue with that."

Between tides, the rising water levels in the narrow cave were unusual but the inspectors were trained in oil, not the ocean and the tugging, rainbow sludge was up to their knees before either of them noticed.

"Water's up. Let's hurry."
"Wonder if that has anything to do with the methane. Put it in the report."

Well paid, the two men stayed to finish their observations and collections and the water continued to slowly rise, rolling in but not going back out.

"Did you feel that?"

"What?"
"I’m not sure. Sort of like a vibration under my feet."
"Probably just the water. It's still coming up."
"Maybe but I'd swear..there it was again!"
"I didn't feel anything."
"Something moved by my foot!"
"Stop it."
"Really, I... what was that?"

Both men turned to see a shape under the hip high water, one that caused their mouths to dry and their hearts to thump. A shark fin.

"Back off, nice and easy."
"Don't move!"
"Look out!'
"Behind you!"
"Ahhh!"

The oil covered shark tossed his head viciously, reveling in the gush of fresh food, and then he was being pulled back by the stingray.

"Stop. There must be proof." Denied a much needed meal, the angry shark snapped at the ray and then whined in pain as the manta stung him brutally.

"Enough!' They both looked to the old, jellyfish floating in the oil stained water.

"Man is our enemy, not each other. Drag them out and the crabs will bring them to the shore so they can be found beside the black poison they unleashed." The huge Jelly was obeyed without argument and the water in the cave slowly lowered, allowing them to wash out with the wave.

"What comes next?" The Manta Ray asked the Jelly and neon lights of concentration flashed under the waves as the centuries old keeper of the water struggled to form thoughts through the rage.

"Call the whales, the orcas. Any that are left will come. We have to gather an army and drive man out of the oceans. After that, we’ll talk to those on land, make a deal if we can. Surely the air breathers are dying as fast as us."

"Can we fight so many?" The Jelly flashed uneasily.

"I don't know. Until now, our world has been unreachable but every day brings them closer to our homes, our families. If we don't fight back now, we may not be able to later and I would have justice!”

Surprise Guest!-Scott from the Indie Book Blog!

2011-11-04T15:33:00.001-04:00

Hi everyone. First off big thanks to Angela for inviting me to spend a little time with all of you over here on her blog. My name is Scott and I run the Indie Book Blog

(http://indiebookblogger.blogspot.com). I started my blog in January this year after getting a Kindle from my wife for Christmas (boy does she regret that one!) and I was immediately looking at all of the wonderful indie books for .99 on Amazon. I started strolling through the forums looking for a list of quality indie fantasy reads and eventually started my own thread where I invited authors to pitch their books to me and if I was interested I would purchase to book and leave a review. After seeing just how many authors had blogs I decided to start one up with the goal of reviewing indie books. Man has it grown since then. I am currently featuring interviews, guest blogs, and giveaways on a regular basis and try to have two reviews published each week. It seems that a lot of indie authors have trouble finding reviewers for their books so I am going to share a list of things I look for when someone leaves me a review request.

1. Read the basic requirements of the blog you are submitting to. Most reviewers have a list of genres that they prefer or will not review. I personally will not review erotica and the chance of me checking out a romance are pretty darn low. Also if you submit one genre and don't hear back don't be afraid to try again with something else. A lot of reviewers are swamped and don't take the time to contact everyone who requests a review.

2. Make sure to leave your book title and blurb. I know it seems pretty basic, but there are a lot of people who forget to leave the title of the book and that really lowers the chance of a response from me.

3. Include your contact info. Same deal as #1 if I have to spend more than a minute or two trying to find out how to leave you a message most likely I am going to move on to another request. I know some people don't like their email address in public, but I am fine with an I can be reached at the contact tab of my blog kind of link.

4. Are you willing to provide a review copy? What formats? I didn't used to require a review copy, but I prioritize people who are willing to give me one. If you give me a free copy of your book it gets bumped above any that I have to pay for and now I get enough review copies that I don't know how long it would take me to get to something I have to purchase. Also I am not a big fan of .pdfs if the book has a lot of appeal to me I'll still take it, but I really prefer print, mobi, or prc.

5. Are you interested in/willing to do an interview, guest blog, or giveaway? If I am in need of special guests that is another way that can get you bumped up the list a bit.

6. If you make a commitment to do a guest blog and never send me the piece consider yourself removed from the list. I mean if something major comes up and you explain that to me it's one thing, but not sending me anything or any reason for it is unacceptable.

7. Be patient! Even if you get accepted it can still take several months for the review to get posted. Personally it doesn't bother me to get an email every once in a while checking on the status of your book, but don't push. When I review I post on Amazon, Amazon UK, Barnes and Noble, iTunes, Goodreads, Shelfari, and my blog so it is worth the wait (hopefully).

Those are the major points for getting a review on my blog and I think most have similar qualifications. Once again I would like to say thanks to Angela for having me on her wonderful blog. I don't know how she has time to do it with all the different books she is writing. Please feel free to stop by and leave a comment on my blog or request a review. In the month of December I am doing a HUGE giveaway.

Thank you so much, Scott! That's great information. makes me wish I'd read it before I asked you to review my book!

Dear Red, White, & Blue

2011-11-01T17:30:00.006-04:00

Dear red, white, and blue

Is there still hope for you

I wonder

Perhaps with someone in power

Who slaves by the hour

to remain true

A person of dignity

Who's not a give-me

or quota-fill

No reek of greed

No corruptive seed

growing unchecked

A leader who can inspire

Who raises people higher

than themselves

A soul with grace

Not colored by race

of any kind

A take-charge warrior

An environmental voyeur

who loves this planet

A Hero to lead

With only one creed:

America

Where do we find such belief

When do we get the relief

of being loved in return

We'd die for the President

Would he pay the same rent

of course not

Your sacrifice we don't require

we serve willingly sire

If you're worthy

If you'll get you hand a bit dirty

to further our lives

and enrich our minds

To earn our trust

It's all or bust

and always

America first

Life After War.

"A Hero with enough strength, enough hope, to give us back some of what was stolen."

Double Standard-LV Cautions- (Story Sunday)

2011-10-30T17:30:00.000-04:00

"Thud thud thud!”

I shoved the bloody knife under the couch cushion before wiping my red hands down the left

side of my jeans, then went to answer the door, sure it was the police. My neighbors were more than nosey and the ﬁght had been loud.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the hall mirror as I neared the door and took a quick look to

see what impression I would give. Bare feet, shirt half unbuttoned, hair mussed, framing red
eyes. Except for the thick smear of blood on my shirt and jeans, I looked a little drunk. Perfect.

"Thud thud thud!”

“Open up, this is the Cleves police department."

I looked back at the expensively decorated living room. Nothing. As long as they didn't get near the couch, they wouldn't see the body.

"Can I halp you?" I burst into drunken giggles as I said it, opening the door to reveal two very

serious looking cops, dressed in full gear. "I mean, help you."

I giggled a bit more, leaning against the door as if for support and watched them exchange a quick glance. Their sharp eyes went over me, judging me just the way I had myself. Until they saw the blood. Then the alarm was blaring, the questions forming, and I knew I'd have to be careful as the older man slid a hand to the unstrapped butt of his gun.

"Are you okay, Miss?"

"Is that blood?"

I looked down like I hadn't known it was there, hand swiping at it.

"Someone had an accident." Their frowns became scowls at that.

"Who?"

"Do they need an ambulance?"

I shook my head, thinking it was much too late for that.

"Me." I let out another cackle, holding out my left hand, and was pleased to see them both back up from my dripping wound. Their expressions relaxed, as much as police ever do anyway, and I shrugged, let myself lean on the door a bit more.

"Maybe I need stitches?"

"What happened?"

One ofﬁcer questioned, while the other moved into the hall to call for medical assistance, and I tried to smile at the shrewd eyed cop but my stomach twisted at that moment, turning it into a perfect grimace. Easy. Careful.

"I wanted a sandwich." He didn't believe that's all it was and I knew right then that some of the truth would have to be told.

"He wanted a sandwich an I wanted to read. We argued." I held my hand out a bit further. "Felt bad after he left. Was gonna make it and call him." I shook my head. "Guess I should waited to sober up." The cop rolled his eyes at me then and I knew I was in the clear. With a few sentences, I’d told him there was no threat here and I swallowed my grin.

The big officer helped me, the paramedics on their way, and I closed the door to the murder scene with calm hands. My husband hadn't thought I would be home tonight but I'd known he would. And I'd known he would not be alone.

I pretended to stumble as we stepped from the curb, the officer catching me with another of those eye rolls and then we were in the ambulance and the two cops were standing by their car, watching. We pulled out a few minutes later, I did indeed need stitches, and while I hoped the cops would not hang around long enough to hear it was a defensive wound, I wasn't worried about it. After they stitched me up, I would head out one of the many exits and be gone. I grinned and the paramedic asked me if I was all right.

"Fine as frog fur." I replied, slurring. And I was. My husband now, that was a different story and before dawn, his secretary would not be either. Cheating was a killing offense where I came from.

I appeared to be passed out for most of the ambulance ride, thinking I would have to slip out before any blood test results came back or they would want to know why I was covered in someone else's blood.

The cops left me at the hospital, not filing any charges, and I breathed a sigh of relief as their twinkling taillights faded into the night. Country cops were often dumb but those two had been on the fence about me, I was sure of it and I made a mental note to keep off the main roads when I slipped out.

The time in the emergency room passed so slow, I really did fall asleep for while and when they stitched me up, surprised at my refusal of drugs, I was left alone with no guard. The doctor who sank the needle into my forearm seven times didn't talk much but his one comment made me glad I wasn't hooked up to any machines.

"This looks defensive." His dark eyes studied my paling face, instantly drawing the wrong conclusion, and when he began to tell me of places that would help an abused woman, I hid a smile and told him I would think about it. He gave me a card as he left, along with a searching look I tried not to squirm under, and then I was free to go. To Miami Avenue.

It was only half a mile from here and I thanked the nurses politely as I went out the glass doors. I didn't have a weapon but I carried my hatred deep and I headed through the backwoods to her one floor ranch home.

Marguerite lived by herself, a failed actress trying the 9 to 5 scene, and I lurked in the tall bushes beneath her window, waiting. Her lights were on, television blaring out the news of yet another wave of oil washing onto oceanfront property and then I could feel the night around me still. The darkness slid further over her home, the news changing to the late show, and when her lights finally went off, I eased from my hiding place. After tonight, she would have no need of a married man or anything else.

I had already chosen my point of entry, the doggy door I was slim enough to squeeze through, and I was careful to touch nothing I couldn't wipe off afterwards. My husband’s body wouldn't be found but sweet little Marguerite would appear to be the victim of a home invasion.

The house smelled of sex and candy, the cheep, plastic tasting kind, and I grimaced at the odor as I passed through her tiny kitchen and headed up the hall stairs. I had staked her place out for a week before I made my move, making sure I knew where she'd be, and I took the stairs with a quiet caution any ninja would have admired.

Her bedroom door stood open, a reading lamp on, and I moved toward the light with hate in my heart. None of those other tramps had meant anything to my wandering husband but this tart had wormed her way into his heart with her desperate actress routine and a quick call to the lawyer had confirmed my suspicions. Her name had replaced mine on the will, the inheritance. The entire empire we'd built together, would go to her. My smile in the darkness was sharp. Maybe to her relatives or a local charity. She wouldn't be around to spend a dime.

I dropped to the ground as I neared the door, she wouldn't be able to see me if I stayed low, and I waited on the threshold, listening to her deal herself one last pleasure before drifting off to slumber. My heart tightened as she murmured a man's name in the darkness and I slid into her bedroom without making a sound.

I crawled around the edge of her bed, heart thumping and when she let out a soft snore, I almost screamed. I clamped the sound inside my throat, swallowing it, and then I was lunging upward, my hands flying toward her neck.

An hour later, I was back in my own luxury high rise, struggling to get my husband's lean body into the garbage chute. I had already aimed the bottom gutter toward the furnace and the fact that it was kept fired continuously made my heart beat calmly. The body would be burned along with all the other trash and all I had to do was clean up the mess.

I heaved hard, arms screaming with the effort and his corpse slowly started sliding down towards the inferno.

He made a lot of noise on the way and I winced at each bang and thump but my ears told me it wasn't any worse than the bags of bottles we usually dumped at night, just a bit heavier sounding. After I hit the fire button, a smell drifted up, one that made me gag and I quickly opened my air vent, turning on the fan. I had not counted on the smell and my stomach rolled as I cleaned the bloody couch. The floor, I had covered with a tarp before the fight started and I sent this to the furnace as well as my own clothes, not bothering with a shower yet. I still had a lot to do.

I bleached the stains from the white sofa and it left a very noticeable mark but after a light coat of finger paint, it blended right in and I turned my attention to the odor. My neighbors would complain about it, remember it. Unless it was not coming from my apartment, I realized.

The penthouse was empty right now, the upper floors under construction, and I moved toward the stairs at a calm pace, trying not to imagine how many people might be watching me pass. The stairwell was dim, as was the hallway, carpenters tools littering the various benches, and I chose the apartment furthest from my own. On my way, luck shined on me and I scooped up the dead rat with hands that did not flinch.

I turned the chute toward the furnace and placed the huge sewer rat on the floor nearby, hoping anyone investigating the odor would think its mate had fallen into the furnace, producing the stench. I moved back to my apartment, running the checklist through my head. Body? Check. Weapon? Check. It was currently burning along with the other evidence. Witnesses? None. It was perfect. I had committed two murders and would never face justice for it. I was avenged and free.

"Then how come you're in here, on the Row?" I shook myself from the flashback as more questions followed.

"Yeah. How'd you get caught?" I leaned across the wooden table, aware that my last hour of freedom, of breathing, was quickly drawing to a close but I did not regret my actions or my last wish to spend an hour talking to the other inmates.

"The Dic turned me in."

"Time's up, Collins." The guards tone was cruel. "The Padre's waitin for ya." I stood carefully, my ankle and wrist chains rattling, and I flashed a sickly smile at the listening women, some of whom would be making the walk too before long.

"My husband had hired a PI to follow me around right about the time I started staking out his whore. He thought I might be cheating."

One Year and 10,000 books sold!...

2011-10-28T12:29:00.000-04:00

One Year and 10,000 books sold!...: Exactly one year ago, The Survivors was uploaded to Amazon. In 365 days, it has sold almost 10,000 copies! It has been as high as #2 on ...

RGPorter: Guest post- Angela White: Author of Dark Fantasy

2011-10-27T15:25:00.000-04:00

RGPorter: Guest post- Angela White: Author of Dark Fantasy: Good morning Angie, and welcome to my world. Please, introduce yourself to my readers. Hello, I'm Angie. Now that the pleasantries are o... Would you like to see your book featured on Teaser's & Pleaser's? Check out the Tours tab.

Nuclear (Dark Fantasy Tuesday)

2011-10-25T17:30:00.000-04:00

Ashes to ashes

Dust to dust
We conquered this great land
Now keep it, we must
By any means, wrong or just

How? A weapon

Full of arrogance

We helped it evolve
Working equations
Man wasn’t meant to solve

Envisioned for defense

Created to cause massive death
We call it security, safety
But of that, there’s little left

Now, the whole world suffers

No one in control
For money and power
We’ve damned our souls

Ashes to ashes

Dust to dust
We’ve destroyed this great land
Now watch it rust

Chaeck out this book

Soul Mates (Story Sunday)

2011-10-23T17:30:00.000-04:00

We'd gotten away clean.

My death grip on the steering wheel eased but I didn't slow, instead, switching to an empty lane so I could go faster on the dark highway. I'd expected the police to be chasing us by now and my heart gradually returned to normal. We'd gotten away!

My eyes went to his face in the passenger seat and I grinned, unable to believe it was finally happening. We could be together now! I took another exit at top speed and forced myself to slow and blend into the light traffic as we crossed the state line. It wouldn't do to draw attention right now.

I patted my lover's hand comfortingly, able to smell his aftershave and the leather of his coat. He'd played hard to get for a long time, saying he wanted me but it wasn't right, telling me he loved me, touching me, bringing me pleasure I hadn't known existed, and then backing away, saying he couldn't leave his wife. My grin widened. It didn't matter now. She was gone and we could be together!

I drove smoothly despite my excitement and I couldn't wait to be alone with him. The things I had planned! I took another look at his face. He was incredible to me, even in profile. I'd been in love with him for years and the affair had slowly consumed me until my job and family had faded from view, and then, The Plan. How could we be together had been the question but I'd answered it. Now, we were.

The two lane dirt road was full of deep ruts and I was careful not to let the wagon bounce too much. Always working The Plan, that was me. The farmhouse was dark and would be cold but it was out of the way and I had my lover to keep me warm. I parked by the back door and patted his big hand again.

"Wait here for me."

I chuckled as I dug the white tarp out of the back, leaving the blow gun responsible for my success, and I covered the wagon completely. With a few dozen shovels of snow on top, it looked like the vehicle hadn't been moved since before the last winter storm, and I turned my attention to the tire tracks.

I went all the way to the bottom of the driveway, ignoring the cold and the screaming of my arms and back. There'd be time to rest later. Right now, I had to stay on Plan. I worked with careful eyes as I went back to the wagon, making sure it didn't look like anyone had been here for a long time. It didn't and the nearest neighbor was an Irish Dog Kennel. They'd never hear the screams.

I pulled the cellar door up with a grunt and lowered the plank I'd had to cut twice to make a perfect fit for rolling and sliding things down the steep stairs. No way he was going to be able to walk it.

I rolled back the tarp on the passenger door and when I opened it, I smiled comfortingly into his dazed green eyes.

"Don't worry. We'll be safe here."

He mumbled, drooling, and I changed direction, heading for the back and the blowgun. He couldn't come out of it yet. I still had to get him below, get him chained, and recover the cellar door with snow. The Plan wouldn't work if he escaped before learning to love me.

I moved toward him while loading the dart. Things would be just perfect once he understood we were Soul Mates.

Bachelor Battles Notes and Secrets (DF Tuesday)

2011-10-18T17:30:00.002-04:00

At 12, Candice tried to enter the Network complex to rescue Daniel but was caught and brought home by security.

The Pruett family fills their credits by bounty hunting for the Network, as well as independent clients.

Angelica left her family behind so she was free to Change, without hurting anyone she loved, like her cousin did.

Candice loathes her mothers weakness, partially because she envies the happiness, the peace.

Clearing the old roads is a source of pride for the Pruett's. They average miles a year, just the six of them.

The Network is run by a group of 10 women who are rarely seen in public. Due to excellent and brutal methods, they rule uncontested.

Families who fall out of favor with the Network are denied access to their credits. Without their accounts, these women starve or sell their male children to the Games in order to survive.

In 2513 A.W., only parts of the world have recovered from the nuclear war. Few cities beyond New Network City and the Nevada coast are livable.

The Bachelors are drugged and brainwashed. Many of them appear grateful to the Network for finding them an owner. Few realize they're slaves.

Closer (Story Sunday)

2011-10-16T17:30:00.003-04:00

She knew she was being followed and her heart pounded, mind racing.

Echoes came to her. She was outnumbered.

Her steps faltered and she took a quick look over her shoulder to verify it but the street was in total darkness except for a dim, cloud-covered moon and her tiny flashlight.

She moved a bit faster, sure it was the four men from the stadium. She'd only needed a moments escape from the thousands of tensely beating hearts crammed into the Super Dome and instead, had found a young girl's abused body and her attackers standing nearby, talking about how to hide it. All fresh from the act, they'd turned to see her and when she'd fled, they'd followed. Now, they were stalking her, getting closer.

The New Orleans street was debris-covered, empty except for broken tree limbs and power lines, and she heard the footsteps on her trail change. They'd split up, she realized, trying to surround her, herd her. She walked faster, sharp eyes still unable to pick even a single shadow from the darkness but it didn't really matter. She was a witness. They couldn't leave her alive.

Soft laughter rang out on her right and she flinched to the left, almost running now, and hit something heavy lying in the street. She fell hard, light flying out of her grasp and smashing against the ground. Blood dripped from her hands and she pushed herself up began to run through the total darkness.

A shape appeared on her right and she spun left again, running through a muddy yard, and glass crunched under her feet as heavy footsteps echoed openly, closely.

She threw herself over a high fence and hit the ground again, almost dazed from the impact. She stayed still, hearing them close in, and then she was surrounded, looking up at four angry leers.

Her cloak had fallen open to reveal a short, black dress over pale, flawless skin, and she felt the air shift. Their eyes darkened with need and she closed her eyes, listening to them decide who would be first and how they would clean up after.

Shadows moved silently in the darkness as the first man knelt in the mud, and unseen hands moved toward for his companions as he dropped his body onto hers. The woman immediately slid her hands around his neck.

"Closer." She whispered hungrily, lips searching, and then she was plunging her fangs into his sweaty skin and he was screaming. Her grip was like stone, relentless, and the shrieks of the other men echoed his as the small family of Hunters fed.

The woman belched loudly and giggled at herself as she pushed the body over and staggered to her feet, intoxicated with her meal. Hunting during the aftermath of human suffering was always the best. Few lights to give them away, no authorities patrolling every alley, and best of all, a perfect food supply. Tragedies brought out the worst mankind had to offer and with no one to protect their rights, these remorseless Killers were finally serving a purpose and getting what they deserved at the same time.