As some of you may know, I'm painting my house (and my fence, and my shoes, and my pants.) But I am finding time to write too. I finished with 3:05 a.m. and it is with my editor still being looked over and loved and licked. I promise it's coming soon. I really liked AK47 and Rourke. I can't wait to see what everyone thinks of their love story.
As for the moment, I'm duel writing two stories. I don't normally do that, but these stories matter to each other in the Off-The-Rails, and I wanted to make sure they were put together just right. In the next book after 3:05 a.m. you meet Josie. She is one of the main characters in One Strong Gale. Josie is in a relationship with Sky Davis. You met Sky as a baby. If you recall the end of 2:05 a.m. you also met his brother Cosmos. Anyway, Sky's The Limit is the next story after One Strong Gale. There is one scene that overlaps. Because of this one little part, I find myself writing the two books together so it fits like a puzzle. I am hoping my beta readers will point out anything that I mess up with these up coming books.
In the meantime, I'm just painting everything. Be happy my paint sprayer doesn't go anywhere near you house.
I was offered a spot with Wounded Warrior Project on their national campaign team a few months back. I was happy to do whatever with W.W.P. because they have really helped me over the years. I signed up with Wounded Warrior Project back in 2011 because a buddy of mine was with the project. Monica joined a month later. After that, we both did events with the organization and met a ton of really great people. I can not tell you about all the awesome vets I've hung with or all the things I've learned with these men and women over the years.
Anyway, once I was with the national campaign team they asked me to come to New York for their Courage Awards. I couldn't possibly say no to that! New York is amazing to see. I have always seen it in the movies, but up close it really impacts you.
When I get home, I will hop on here and tell you about what I am working on next, but for now... I'm having fun and meeting new people. A big thank you goes out to W.W.P. for that.
I am so excited that I had to pop on my blog and share my news! I was awarded Best Dystopian Romance! A huge thank you goes out to the Papercuts Anonymous of Atlanta, Georgia! You guys are the best!
Really, thanks to all the people out there reading The Ice Era Chronicles. I love sharing these stories with you. Everyone that is on this journey with me... each reader, each writer, each friend I meet... is so important. The support from all of you is amazing!
Thanks again ALL!
Our Future According to Hollywood...
So It's January... and as you know every New Years my wife and I watch a movie set to take place in the upcoming year. This year’s selection was a fascinating choice to say the least. In 2019, we will witness the birth and death of Earth’s favorite game show “The Running Man.” The film stars Arnold Schwarzenegger and was released in 1987. It was story written by Stephen King, but I have the feeling if I ever read the story I would like it better than the movie. Isn't that always the case?
I must say, my first reaction to the movie is if this is what the U.S. looks like in 2019… it’s not too far from what Harvesters Paradise would look like. The rubble buried houses filled with men, women and children alike fighting for their next meal. Subjected to unnecessary ridicule from outsiders.
Huh, isn’t that almost every Arnold movie from the 80’s?
In the event you never get around the watching this film, (I don't blame you) I will give you a recap. Running man is the story of a game show that is running the world. Be prepared for that in 2019. Also, big muscle man saves incapable woman that whines at his ideas, and inexplicably saves the world too. We should brake the mold and reverse the rolls. I want to see a heroine escorting a babbling idiot guy to world peace. Like Mulan with Jack Black’s character in Kung Fu Panda. That would be worth seeing. I guess if I can't see it in the movies, I will write a story like that to entertain myself!
Until the next New Years… Keep Reading! Seriously, I don’t think Hollywood knows what they’re doing anymore. LoL. Read a book instead.
I know some of us celebrate all kinds of events this year so I went with the over all "Happy Holidays" to all of you out there!
During this time of year, I do some shopping, some baking, and some holiday partying... but mostly when it gets cold, I start to write.
I'm busy with 3:05 a.m. now and we have the first few chapters written, but they're raw. The kids keep me running around so I'm not moving along in this story as fast as I usually do, but at the same time, I am enjoying my characters. Sitting with them makes a cold snowy night zip by.
Here is a little bit of chapter 1 of 3:05 a.m. An Ice Era Chronicle... Read at your own risk! There is mistakes and what not. It's only the beginning. (Key exciting music here!)
Her moaning hit an ear piercing crescendo as she reached climax. Screams of pleasure thundered over Rourke louder than the rain pelting the windows. In the small dirty office overlooking the ocean, Rourke leaned back as her orgasm transformed her face. His brother’s current girlfriend collapsed to the floor in a heap. Con’s black shoulder length hair covered one eye as she panted and clutched her open shirt. Her perfect breasts heaved and tinted pink with exertion. The black underwear around her ankles made her look bound even though everything about this was willing.
Once upon a time watching a pretty woman in ecstasy was fun. That was then, this is now. And now was his mission. Nothing about this was fun.
Outside, stomping and cussing was the racket of a massive group of dock workers. He lifted his head to glance out the grimy windowpane. The men meandering around the halls didn’t even notice Con’s carnal delight. Three other ships had just reached the harbor and everyone was busy with the arrivals. One boat had docked and two waited off shore. Men unloaded crates and bags. Rourke ignored the new swarm. He was only looking for his brother Weber’s stolen cruise liner, The Carnival. The smaller vessels out there weren’t his concern. The Original’s ship would be here soon and that’s what he needed to get on. Of course, if the dark-haired beauty on the floor wasn’t impressed with the way she came, he would never see the man he planned to kill. Getting into Con’s good graces was one step closer to his brother. It was time to finished what they’d started in Texas.
“It’s always a pleasure, Con.” Rourke pulled on his sleek brown leather gloves and straightened his clothes as he came to his feet.
“Don’t think an orgasm is going to get you on your brother’s ship.” Con reached her ankles and pulled up her underwear. “I’m not that easy.”
“What about two?” Tipping his ass against the old wooden desk, Rourke checked the zipper on his jeans as he gave her his best sexy grin. This smile was the one all the women fawned over.
Con merely raised one dark eyebrow and buttoned her shirt. “I can’t invite you onto The Carnival, no matter how many orgasm’s you want to heap on me.”
“Heap? I can heap all over you, baby.” Rourke offered Con his hand and helped her to stand. She rolled to her feet easily as a smile teased her lips. The smile he recognized. It was the one where he was in the winner’s circle. Rourke received that you-got-me-look all the time. The slim young woman straightened her shoulders before her eyes met his.
“Here’s what I can do.” Con walked to the desk and sat. She leaned back in her chair as she arranged her hair into a ponytail. “I can let it slip that The Carnival with a few of The Originals will be near this harbor tomorrow. Now if you happen to get someone to take you by boat out there, and you happen to get on somehow…” Con gave a dainty shrug of her shoulders. “I might just say I know nothing about it.”
Rourke eyed the petite woman lounging on the office chair. Con was no fool and she was the closest thing to his brother that he’d found so far. Trust wasn’t given between The Originals, but screw it. This time he would take what he could get and go with it.
“Why would you do that for me?”
“Who said this is for you?” Con chuckled. “Didn’t you say you have some place to be?”
Con was kicking him out of the dingy little office. Fine. He had all the information he needed. Now he could return tomorrow and get on The Original’s ship. Once he was on the cruise liner, he would find Weber.
The time on his wrist watch blinked. Con was right. He did have some place to be, and he didn’t have time to figure out why Con was being helpful. Maybe she didn’t know what happened in Pharr, Texas, or maybe she still had a sexual stupor hanging over her brain. It didn’t matter either way. If this was just her stupidity, then he would take it. A dumb girlfriend of his brother’s was what he needed. No point in looking so hard at an opportunity that it might vanish.
“I’ll see you around, Con.” Rourke winked.
“Don’t miss the boat.” Con shuffled papers on her desk and didn’t look at him.
“I won’t.” Rourke had the feeling she implied much more than those four words. He would figure it out soon enough.
Once he left the office, he took the rickety stairs two at a time down to the dock. Bolts of lightning lit up the sky and a rain-snow mixture battered his leather jacket as soon as he stepped away from the office building onto the boardwalk. Ducking between men and women hauling plastic bins of silverware, Rourke hit solid land and jogged inland along a rock path. As he pulled his collar up, he marched straight for a row of weathered brick buildings dimly lit by flickering lamp poles.
Right as he passed a massive stone structure, a blur zoomed past him. The whirl and the movement weren’t the rain. Suddenly, Rourke was pressed flat against unforgiving concrete under a metal awning. Staring into to his eyes were the cold, black orbs of Snow-Everyone-Joe.
Rourke wiggled against the sold muscle of an agent that made his heart jump into his throat. Fuck, Joe was scary.
“Do you really need the knife, baby?” Rourke swallowed.
The blade next to his throat was drawn back and moved to his ribs. H.S.P.C. Agent Joe stepped to the side and let go of his neck.
“Stop calling me baby.” The older man’s face was an unreadable mask of wrinkles and death. The agent gave Rourke the chills. Even if Joe was in his early fifties, the guy could move, was lethal, and he looked like he ate souls for breakfast. After the debacle in Texas, Rourke had agreed to be a double agent for the H.S.P.C. and spy on The Originals. Of course, he never thought he would have to work with this snow-cone. People gossiped that Agent Joe was retired and an ant now, living underground in the Northern Earth Dens. Some said he was in a wheelchair as a decrepit aging cripple. No such luck. Joe was alive, healthy, and mean as a rattlesnake. If there was a way to never see Joe again, Rourke would take it.
“Sure, baby.” Rourke did his best to look like he didn’t care what the other man had to say. On some level, he was positive Joe could see right through his lax attitude to his fear.
“You’re late.” Joe’s deep husky voice was soft and could only be heard slightly over the rain beating the metal overhang.
“I had to get Con to let me on Weber’s ship. If you want me to kill my brother, I have to see him.”
Joe’s cold eyes slanted into a glare. Rourke should probably stop poking the bear.
“If I think for even one minute that you’ve switched sides, I’ll kill you.” Joe glanced around the street.
“Nah.” Rourke couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. “I got the message with the knife. Whatever you say, baby.” He held up his hands in a peace gesture.
If Joe was trying to scare Rourke it was unnecessary. First off, Joe was scary as fuck and he didn’t need to do anything but stand there and exhale. Second, there was no switching sides. Rourke was never fully with The Originals. He just happened to be part of Fletcher’s bloodline, and anyway, he had his own reasons for wanting to kill his older brother. Even though the H.S.P.C. was helping him, he would take down Weber whether he had backing or not.
“Here.” Joe produced a gun from a bag on his back and handed the sleek silver pistol to Rourke. As Rourke gripped the sidearm, Joe eyed the street again.
“What’s this for?” The plan hadn’t been for Rourke to shoot his brother. “Are we changing things?”
“No.” Joe glance back and fourth down the alley. “Just a backup. Wow, everyone knows you should always have a backup plan.”
Rourke tucked the pistol into his pants and nodded. “Anything else?”
“If you run into an Original member named AK47, leave her to me.” Joe’s eyes flashed with fury. Rourke held his breath. If this woman got on Joe’s bad side, may God have mercy on her soul.
“What did she do to you? Steal your favorite jammies?”
“Just leave her to me.” Joe growled. “Also, here.” The agent pulled out a chain with a small round metal disk dangling from the end. He didn’t say more, but dropped the jewelry into Rourke’s hand.
Rourke held up the medallion.
“Your dad sent it to you. Morgan-Roth said good luck or some shit.”
Rourke pressed the disk into his palm hugging the little memento from his real father. Knowing him and Weber didn’t share the same dad had always been a point of pride for Rourke. The day his mother died and confessed that to him had made everything in his life better. His father was a good man, a priest. Even if they were all Fletcher’s bloodline it didn’t mean they had to be bad people. Morgan-Roth gave him hope. Just knowing in his heart that his dad was a priest gave him a something stable to stand on. Maybe he wouldn’t turn out like Weber or Silo or Felix. Maybe after all this was done, he could have a normal life with a home, family, friends, unconditional love. All the things he’s never had as a child.
“One more thing.” Joe slipped his knife into a sheath on his belt. “If you get into any trouble, there’s a pass-code that agents use. It’s a challenge and a response.” Joe’s lips pressed into a grim line like he wasn’t sure if he should be passing on secret information. After the long pause he continued. “If it looks like you have no other options, and I mean no other options, call out ‘If Karma doesn’t catch up with you.’ You got it?”
“If Karma doesn’t catch up to you.” Rourke repeated.
“If there is an agent who can help, they’ll reply ‘Then God will.’ That’s how you’ll know you have help. I’ll be close. Watching you all the time.”
“All the time?” Rourke groaned. “Great, baby. That’s just want I need.”
To be continued...
I hope you all stay warm during this winter season! Thanks for stopping on my page! I'm now back to 3:05 a.m. Wish me and Rourke good luck!
My kids used to ask me "Whatcha doing?" They didn't really want an answer. However, I thought I would pop on here and tell you all what we've been up to.
We're doing some giveaways! 1:05 a.m. was free last month. This month the plan is to have Grinding My Gears up for free. If you've read my first book, and you want to find out what happened to Gears (Rea's best friend) November you will have your chance.
As for new works. Ahhh... that's a little more tricky.
Monica and I write together. I'm sure you have all seen that. Since I cut my wrist with a Skill Saw, she is my everything when it comes to the keyboard (Hell, she's my everything in other places as well, but you don't want to know about that!)
Anywho, Monica and I started working on a story called A Christmas Cup Of Joe. If you've read the other books you might remember Joe. He is Karma and Rea's son. When we first started this project, I had an outline in mind. Monica wanted to make the story lighter and add some fun Christmas stuff to it. I knew that I wanted to try out my hand at writing a Male/Male romance, but I had to rely on Monica for the sex scenes because she has read some of that genre.
In the end, after the book was written... everything sorta fizzled.
That's when things got interesting.
There is a customer that comes in the bookstore who always says the same thing to Monica. He tells her that she has "Ant-like focus." Well, that's basically what happened.
As soon as the book wasn't approved my our publishing house, Monica got fixated. She is obsessed with the MS and will not look at other books outlines. That includes 3:05 a.m.
So Whatcha doing? Nothing.
Monica just keeps going over the same work. She sits and taps her pen on our writing notebook. It's hard to watch. They say "A non-writing writer is a monster courting insanity." I sometimes worry about that. Between us, this has caused writer's block and I've never seen Monica have that before. She won't move forward. I cant without her. So, I'm hunting.
What can I say? I guess when the going gets tough, you hunt for food?
I used to leave on a hunting trip and come back after five days to a fully written novel for me to start working on. I don't think that's going to happen any time soon.
But, in the meantime, check in with me on Facebook and Twitter and Instagram. I'll be doing that giveaway! A free download of Grinding My Gears is soon to come!
Hello my friends,
This week my publishing house, Troll River, is giving away my first book 1:05 a.m. An Ice Era Chronicle (Book 1) away for FREE!
I'll be honest... this reminds me of a drug dealer. The publishing house is all like (Picture guy in trench coat here.) "Take this first one for free... see if you like it... then come back and see me."
And then your hooked!
But wait, this is a kick-ass book! I hope you read it and totally get hooked! So far we're on the fifth Ice Era Chronicle and we have plans for many, many, more! Monica and I plan to end this series at 12:05 a.m. Plus, we want to write a few off-the-rails in between all the numbers so that we have some fun mixes and matches.
Anyway, if you know someone who might want to try out our work, tell them that this is the week to do it! Here is the link:
I know I'm a little late to tell you that Two For Tea An (Off-The-Rails) Ice Era Chronicle is now out!
We did the Read For Review Event and if you missed it, I hope you will check us out for the next book! Reviews are so important!
I also wanted to give a big thank you to all the people who did give Tea's book a review. I do like feedback and it's nice to have readers thoughts on my work.
I had a few people ask me why I would write a story for a member of The Originals (The rival organization who hates the H.S.P.C.) The H.S.P.C. was built by our hero in 1:05 a.m. but even though Tea is considered the "Bad Guy" I wanted to show that no one is only one way. We as people have many sides. Tea was both bad and good. Much like the fact that the H.S.P.C. was built by assassins trying to survive during the start of a new Ice Era. I think that was also a mix of bad and good.
So here you have it... A story about redemption, and forgiveness, and maybe becoming a better person. I've been both the enemy and the savior. My time in Afghanistan showed me that to one small town I was there to help, but in another, I was there to destroy. Perhaps in writing Tea's story I was looking for a little of my own redemption too.
Below is the button to watch the book trailer if you have not seen it, and a button if you want to pop on Amazon to buy this story. (Note that Ben Around Books sells copies that I will sign for you.) This book is a companion to 2:05 a.m. An Ice Era Chronicle. Teagan was captured at the end of that book as a criminal. If you're just picking up this chronicle, you might consider checking out 1:05 a.m., Grinding My Gears, 2:05 a.m., and Raiden Out The Storm.
Thanks again all!
Hey my friends!
Today I get to share the new cover for Two For Tea An (Off-The-Rails) Ice Era Chronicle.
I am so excited to show this off! This cover really says "Tea" to me.
If you are a reader of the Ice Era Chronicles, you might remember Tea from the end of 2:05 a.m. She was the one that was trying to save "Mother" the woman who was the head of The Originals. This book is her story. Here is part of the first chapter. Keep in mind it might still have a mistake or two but I just had to share! Two For Tea will be coming out at the end of August.
Place: Train platform outside Water Base Azul in the Northern Earth Dens, C.T.O.N.A. (Confederate Territories of North America)
Time: 1:55 a.m.
Tea pulled her coat tighter over her blood-soaked clothes. She wove through the busy hallways of her home water base and neared the main entrance. Her eyes stayed glued to the cement floor as she passed the guards. She must get past the men who checked folks into the main gate without being observed. Tea made sure not to make eye contact with anyone. Being noticed was never good. At the age of eighteen, she’d learned that “noticed” equaled beatings.
The bandage around her neck slipped. Tea put pressure on the torn skin near her collar. She prayed the blood flow would slow. Dizziness stole her confidence that she could get out of the base before the H.S.P.C. agents saw the dead bodies. Ducking quickly onto the train platform, she dodged a man carrying a door and noted a set of harvester trains parked ahead of her. She scurried toward the first train right as the vehicle’s whistle blew. The ear-piercing shriek bounced off the rock ceiling of the room, but for how loud the sound was, the screech also gave her a surge of hope.
At the last second, Tea changed direction. She picked the train that appeared ready to leave the tracks. The huge vehicle was also a harvester train, but longer than the one she’d spotted up ahead. Her hand slipped over the metal handlebar as she hoisted herself up into the train car. Once inside, she wiped the blood on her palms by rubbing them on the front of her pants. After her hands were clean, Tea yanked her sister’s floor-length jacket tightly around her small frame. When she appeared in the first train car, only five men looked up at her hurried entrance. She kept her head down and slipped through to the next area.
The new space had some type of game in progress.
Three men had their pants around their ankles. Their bare asses shone white in the poorly lit train car. Another group of three harvesters was on the opposite side of the area. They threw an oblong orange ball at the genitals of the bent over men. The ball hit the man in the middle. When the ball struck his sack, he dropped to his knees as he screamed in pain. Laughter and cheers went up. Huge handfuls of HOCs exchanged between the men.
“Who are you?” A young dark-skinned man leaned on a tall carved walking-stick. His eyes scanned Tea. She jumped then scrambled out of the car. Tea didn’t know what to do but talking to anyone was bottom on her list. Right now, the urge to fight prickled under her skin and she didn’t even know why. It was time to run.
Ignoring the way her muscles bunched, Tea exited the boisterous train car. When she opened the door to the next room, she realized this space was vastly different than the openness of the previous area.
The narrow hall was strangely quiet, and it only included one person. A poised woman stood with her back to Tea.
“Mother.” From a white pocket door to Tea’s right, an older man in his sixties with a stock of white hair came out of the room. The stranger paid no attention to Tea as he scurried down the hall toward the strange lady. The speaker came to a stop in front of the regal woman in the thin green skirt. From Tea’s vantage point, the willowy woman he referred to as “Mother” couldn’t be that guy’s mom. This lady was way too young to have a sixty-year-old child.
“Mr. Putnam.” The dignified lady inclined her head, but the movement was barely an acknowledgment.
“Where is the Snow Flu suit I asked for?”
“My apologies. I couldn’t get one.”
“That is a lie. Why bother to lie to me? I can see the future.”
“No, Mother, I mean it.” The older man shook his head. “Honest. I don’t have one for you.”
“That is more true. You have it, but you’re using it and do not want to give it to me.” She spoke as if considering every word that left her mouth. “As you wish.” She shrugged then pointed to the door directly next to her. “You can go into my private quarters and give Weaver water as you are. No suit.”
“But I... I…” the old man stammered. “I can’t do that. Weaver has Snow Flu. I’ll get Snow Flu if I go in there. I’ll die. Let the harvester die instead.”
“You’ve made your decision.”
“Mother, please. What can I do?” Putnam asked.
“Do? You’ve given the suit to your children. You’re using it, but the protective gear wasn’t for you. Weaver will have the cure to Snow Flu, and for the greater good, we must keep that harvester alive and with us. Your wife and children must be sacrificed.”
“Mother.” Putnam looked around the hall like another set of gear would appear. He was screwed. Only the H.S.P.C. had those outfits. “I can get another one.”
“You’re out of time. Now you must go into my sleeping quarters and care for Weaver until either he is better or until you die of Snow Flu.”
“Or?” Putnam ran his hand through his white hair in agitation.
“Or you can die out here.” Mother patted the door lovingly. “You will die one way or another for disappointing me. I don’t accept anything other than complete servitude. I am Mother, Head of The Originals. Only I know the way the world will heal from Snow Flu. I alone know the way out of the ice. I will stay on this path. We must continue this way if we are to survive the ice that seeps toward Earth’s heart.”
“I can’t go in there,” Putnam begged. “I have a family.”
Tea found herself holding her breath.
“You made your choice.” With a quick yank of her arm, Mother pulled a metal item from the pocket of her long green skirt. There was a flash of a silver blade right before the knife sliced into the belly of the other man.
Putnam stumbled backward holding the knife handle in his stomach. He gurgled a few words and then dropped to his knees.
“Mother,” he gasped.
Tea was still staring at the dying man when Mother turned around. Her eyes zeroed in on Tea like Mother knew she was there the whole time. Tea jumped. Her heart started to pound. Even though she wanted to flee, her muscles refused to do anything.
Mother slowly approached. The lady drifted down the hall like she had all the time in the world. Tea held the bandage tighter around her neck. Quickly, she tried to read the other woman like she used to decode her grandma when she was in a foul mood. There was something about this stranger, however. Mother was an enigma. The lady could be young or old, tall or short. There was a mystical veil over the stranger. The only feeling she got from the other woman was that there was an essence of power and control that rolled off Mother. If she had only one word to describe Mother it would be authority.
“Teagan.” Mother stopped in front of Tea. Again, that power wafted from her like perfume.
“I…” Tea stammered. “How do you know my name?”
“I’ve been waiting for you. You’re a little early.”
“I am?” Tea glanced around. All she could hear was the gurgle of the dying man on the floor and the swish of the train.
“You’ve just turned eighteen, right?” She smiled. “So naive for one so old.” Mother glanced back at the man on the floor then to Tea again. “And you’re looking for your sister? Teresa.”
“Yes, my sister.” Tea exhaled relief. That’s how Mother must know so much about Tea. She met Teresa. “Have you seen her?”
“I’ve seen her. We can talk about Teresa.” She pointed to the far door. “But first we’ll clean you up and bandage your neck properly. Once you do a few favors for me, then I can take you to Teresa. I help you after you help me. That’s how this...” Mother paused. “You like the term game. So, that’s how this game will be played.”
“You’ll fight for me, like a junkyard dog.” Mother offered Tea her hand. “You’ll be my protector. Your gift is growing inside of you even as we speak. Soon you will crave the battles, and I’ll give you what you need. You will eat, sleep, and breath the violence until only two things bring you peace.”
“What two things?”
Mother shrugged then extended her hand a tad closer. “You won’t find them on a train.” She laughed to herself.
Tea stared at the slim, delicate fingers in front of her. This lady’s words didn’t make any sense. She also didn’t want to take the offer, but Tea had to find her sister. When she found Teresa, Tea would say she was sorry and fix what happened. “I don’t want to fight anyone.”
“Soon the urge will take over, and you won’t be able to control it.” Mother laughed another throaty chuckle like Tea had told a joke.
“I just need to find my sister.”
“I’ve seen your sister. Come with me, and I will help you.”
Tea would have to play this game. Her eyes dropped to Mother’s outstretched hand.
***Thanks for Reading!!!***
So... We are working on the cover of the next book. Monica and I really think it's cool. I can't wait to share it with all of you.
Once I have the final copy in my hand, we will be doing all the fun prizes for the Read4Review Event.
I have noticed that the Read4Review Events are getting harder as I go along. I know this is because as I write further into the series these books do not stand alone. That kinda bums me out.
I think I am improving as a writer. It's sorta a shame that I can't give someone Tea's book and be like "Check this bad-boy out!!!" They would end up reading it and being all like "Who the hell is this person?"
I get it. But still...
Anyway, this book was such fun to work on and I really love when you have a character like Teagan who is the enemy, but you get to see it from her perspective. Tea really grew on me as I wrote her story. The deeper I went into her hardships and how she saw the world, the more she became a part of me. With out spoilers here, I will say that at the end of the book when H.S.P.C. agents come to finish her execution... I cried. In fact, I cried when I wrote it, I cried when I edited it, and I cried when my editor had me work on the ending. I just love Tea.
I hope if you pick up this book you fall in love with her as much as I did.
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