Author Giveaway: Shawn Kristen Maravel

Some terrific news today, my pretties! If you're a fan of Shawn Kristen Maravel, it could be your lucky day. Through Haley's blog, YA-Aholic, you can enter to win one of Shawn's novels: Violition or Severance.

This is a totally cool deal but, of course, as with all giveaways there are a few rules.

So do a little blog hopping today and check out Shawn's blog:
http://shawn-kirsten-maravel.blogspot.com/

Then head on over to YA-Aholic for the deets.
http://shawn-kirsten-maravel.blogspot.com/

Good luck!

Sample Sunday: Fire in the Blood

CHAPTER FOUR

Something poked my shoulder. I ignored it, wondering why I had a major the-sky’s-falling kind of depression in my gut.

“Piss off,” I mumbled.

When the poking didn’t stop, I cracked open my eyes to find a real life Greek God towering over me. I leaped to my feet, and the rope tightened around my wrist. I flexed my numb fingers, and the events of the night before crashed into me. Tuggin.

“You sleep long,” he said.

“Untie me,” I said. “My hand is freaking numb.”

“You should not have attempted to untie it.” He worked on the knot.

I had, with my teeth and my free hand. The rope had gotten so tight I’d thought my hand would turn blue. “I didn’t.”

“Indeed.”

Once free, I backed away from him, rubbing the red ring around my wrist. I sighed, but I wasn’t sure if it was because I’d tumbled through some secret gateway to some God-forsaken place, or because I’d been kidnapped by a hall god that was so painfully out of my pathetic league.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“No offense, but I was kind of hoping that last night didn’t really happen.”

“You are absurd.”

Fine, it hadn’t been a dream, and apparently the nightmare lived on.

Tuggin went to huddle over a small fire. He poked the coals with a stick, and the little flames sent snuffs of smoke into the air. It was cool, so I kept the blanket wrapped around me. By daylight, I could see the trees’ dull, wrinkled leaves. Most were brown, though there were some faded colors of red, gold and orange. Occasionally one twisted loose and fluttered like a stray piece of confetti.

Tuggin nodded toward my legs. “Why do you move that way?”

Now that he wasn’t so pissed off, his eyes seemed oddly dull, and I wondered what made them seem so lifeless.

“Haley?”

I blinked. “Huh?”

“Your legs move like sticks.”

“My feet hurt. And my legs. And my back.”

“Why is this?”

“From all the walking and tripping and having to sleep tied to a freaking tree.”

“You are not strong,” he declared, handing me a tin plate.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You will eat to keep your strength.” He jammed the plate into my hands. “I have no desire to carry you.”

I had no control over the heat spreading to my cheeks at the thought of Tuggin holding me in his arms. I grabbed the plate. “What’s this?”

Tuggin took his plate to a rock and sat down. “A rare treat,” he said, scooping a forkful of the disgusting-looking glop into his mouth.

“Yeah, okay, but, what is it?” I sniffed. It was probably rare because people were afraid to eat it.

“Eggs.”

“Did you know they’re orange?”

Tuggin swallowed another mouthful. “They are eggs of the fire bird.”

“Why are they rare?” I asked, hoping they weren’t orange because he’d been carrying them around in his backpack for months.

“The fire bird lays eggs only during Quadralune.”

Whatever a Quadralune was, I didn’t ask, because Tuggin shifted so that his back was toward me. I hunched by the fire, took another sniff, and then a small nibble. They weren’t like normal eggs on Earth, from normal chickens, but good. I stared at the fire, ignoring Tuggin and wishing for ketchup.

When I finished eating, Tuggin ordered, “Pack. It is time to depart.”

I stuck my tongue out at his back. I rinsed my plate with water from my canteen, and then stuffed them into my pack and tied on the blankets.

I kept quiet, glaring at the ground, aware of his footfalls close behind me. I had no idea how long we’d been walking when Tuggin took the lead so he could hack at bushes that had overpowered the path. I noticed that occasional rays of sunshine had a way of turning strands of his hair a gold color. Tuggin stopped and, momentarily lost in thoughts of running my fingers through that silky gold, I bumped into him. I winced when he turned to glare at me.

“Sorry,” I muttered.

One corner of Tuggin’s lip curled. “Are you always so awkward?”

“Are you always so rude?”

Tuggin grunted and sat, leaning against a tree. I slipped the pack off my shoulders and sank to the ground. I kicked off my shoes and checked out my heels. Great. The red spots had turned into blisters.

Tuggin pulled a couple apples out of his backpack and tossed one to me. After raising his eyebrows at my bare feet, he ignored me.

I rubbed the apple on my shirt. “How’d you know who I was when I came through that gateway thing?”

Tuggin hesitated, and then he murmured, “I saw it.”

“You can see the future?”

Tuggin didn’t respond.

Oh, nice, the silent treatment. What was he, like five? “Does your mother know what you’re up to?”

He gave me a withering look.

“What about your family? Are they as shady as you?”

Tuggin gazed at me with no expression.

A funny warmth tickled my stomach and his face, even grumpy looking, stalled my thinking. I needed to say something quick before I forgot how to talk completely. I cleared my throat. “You know, family?” The more he stayed silent, the more I babbled. “Brothers? Sisters? Parents? A dog?”

“Jahme!” A muscle in Tuggin’s jaw moved when he clenched his teeth. “Death has taken them.”

“Oh, sorry.”

Tuggin studied the trees. Even though he acted like a tool, I felt kind of bad for him.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Enough! Your mouth rattles like nuts in a wooden bowl.”

I rested my head on my knees and pretended I was anywhere but there. I’d rather have the silent treatment than be treated like a useless twit.

“I shall return.” He picked up our canteens, hesitated, and then took out the rope.

I turned my head away. “Don’t bother. I’m not going anywhere.”

After a moment he dropped the rope. “I will hunt you down if you do.”

I stuck my tongue out at his back. Vowing to never make the mistake of feeling sorry for him again, I leaned against a tree. Big fat kidnapping meany. I pressed my palms to my eyes so that I wouldn’t cry.

Thwump.

My eyes snapped open. A small white bird lay by my leg, four colored plumes sticking out of its head.

“Oh!” I scrambled to my knees and bent over it.

I reached out, and then stopped when its tiny chest heaved. I wanted to help it live, not scare it dead. “Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you.”

It blinked.

“Are you hurt?”

Its wing flitted up, and then rested against its side.

“Is it your wing?”

The bird struggled to raise its head. With a small “chirp” it flopped back to the ground.

“I can’t leave you here. You’ll die.” I bit my lip. Tuggin for sure would have a snarky fit if I adopted a hurt bird. “I’ll hide you in my backpack.”

“You passed the test.” Its beak clicked when it spoke.

“Freaking shit!” I reeled back, falling onto my butt. I crab-walked backwards until I hit the tree, and then leaped to my feet.

The bird flitted to a branch near my head. “I can help you, if you want.”

I scrambled to the other side of the tree. I rubbed my eyes, and then peeked through my fingers. “You talked!”

“Yes, of course.” It dipped its head, shaking the plumes.

“Birds can’t talk.”

“I do.”

The creepy bird hopped closer. I darted back to the other side and peered around the trunk. “Shoo! Go away!”

“That was rude. Do you want my help or not?” it asked.

It wasn’t like it could hurt me, well, except for its beak. I’d heard stories of birds pecking people’s eyes out and I rather liked the idea of keeping mine. “Help with what?”

“There is a secret. I can tell you what it is.”

“How’s that going to help me?”

The bird shook its plumes. “Do you want to know or not?” It seemed to take my hesitation as agreement and continued. “Sometimes, when woodpeckers build their nests, they use a magic herb.”

“Magic?”

“You will see the minds of gods.”

“Gods?”

“You will open gates.”

“Gates?” I felt dumb, repeating its words, but—hello!—I was talking to a bird.

“You will gain power if you have this herb.”

My heartbeat drummed in my ears. What kind of power? The power to kick Tuggin’s ass and escape? Maybe I could go home and make Mom remember me. My heart didn’t beat so much as tremble; maybe I could make Ian fall in love with me.

“Power can be deceiving,” it said. “Do you accept this gift?”

I nodded. “Lead the way, Birdie.”

Writer's Block: Show, Don't Tell

An interesting comment was made with respect to one of my books, where the reviewer mentioned that I had done too much telling, and not enough showing. Of course, that comment made me say, "Hmmm."

Ever since I began writing seriously over a decade ago, the first rule of writing "show, don't tell" has been scarred into my brain, so the comment caught me by surprise. I decided that I needed a refresher on the "show, don't tell" rule.

Basically, the "show" rule adds imagery and dimension to your characters, setting and emotion. This can be accomplished best through the senses...sight, sound, taste, touch. If I tell you I'm scared, you'll say, "Okay, I'll take your word for it." If you *see* that my eyes are bulging, you *smell* my sweat, you *hear* the whimpers back in my throat, you're pretty much clued in to my distress.

When you're writing a scene, visualize every detail like it's a movie inside your head. Then write down everything you see, hear, feel, taste. Fear is often described as a metallic taste, so taste can play an important role in showing, and is often overlooked. Use the visual description to really connect your reader to the moment. The end goal here is to have the reader experience the movie inside your head.

Tell Example:
Petrified, I searched for a place to hide.

Show Example:
My breath, escaping in short spurts, matched my heart beats. I clutched my chest with both hands, searching for somewhere to hide.

I will admit, sometimes I use a mixture of showing and telling; mostly this involves adding the character's internalization with what the character is seeing/hearing/feeling:
I tilted my head. For the first time, I noticed she wasn't so put together. One side of her shirt had untucked from her jeans due to her plucking fingers, her hair was falling out of its ponytail, and her gaze shifted criminally.

As a matter of course, I will pay closer attention when writing to make sure I don't fall into the "tell trap" too often. A good lesson for all writers to keep in mind...even experienced ones.

Giveaway with Guest Author Lena Hillbrand, author of The Superiors

A special treat today! Today, Lena Hillbrand, author of The Superiors, is a guest on my blog which features an inteview. But wait! There's more! If you jump from my blog to hers today, you can enter the giveaway she has posted on her blog. So check out my interview with Lena, and then see the links at the bottom for more information. Enjoy!

How long did it take you to write this book?

About a month for the first draft and a year of editing.

 

Are you a more character-driven or plot-driven writer?

My books focus more on characters, their relationships, their journeys.

 

What makes your characters unique?

In The Superiors series, I tried to stay away from paranormal tropes. The hero, Draven, isn't supermodel gorgeous with a bulging six-pack. And he's not the reluctant, mysterious hero, since the books are mostly from his point of view.

 

Which character do you like best?

I can't really choose a favorite character, since they are all sprung from my imagination and therefore special to me. The most fun character to write was Marisol, but she's only a minor character in the first book. Writing very ambiguous characters is always fun!

If you could be any character from any book for a day, who would it be and why?

 

That's a hard question! Most of my favorite characters have difficult, tragic lives. So I don't think I'd want to trade places with them. I'd probably pick someone with a really cool superpower or who could do anything he wanted and he chose to do good in the world. But I can't think of a character like that right now!

What motivated you to write this current novel?

After reading a few fantasy novels involving vampires, I wanted to write something different and more 'realistic,' if you can call a vampire novel realistic. I know it's not the current trend to have flawed heroes, but there you go. I wanted to focus on a very unexceptional person who goes through extraordinary circumstances that test his limits. I've also been bothered by fantasy heroes who seem static and never change throughout the books, while the woman changes to accommodate him. Draven goes through a lot in the series, and he's a changed man at the end. The heroine grows, too, but in different ways.

 

Do you plot your novels in advance, or do you write by the seat of your pants?

I'm a 'pantser,' through and through. I've written outlines, but I ended up changing them so much they hardly resembled the story I began. I like to start with an idea (for the beginning or end of a tale, usually accompanied by a character but not always) and then let the characters go and see what happens. The idea for The Superiors started out something like this: "Vampires rule the world and keep human as livestock. One vampire guy meets this human and wants to buy her and goes through all this stuff trying to get her." Then I just started writing. I had no ideas for other characters or any of the challenges they face.

 

What is the first book you remember reading that totally took your breath away?

Great question! I'm not sure I could say what took took my breath away, but I remember the book that opened my eyes. I'd been reading a lot of Fear Street and Christopher Pike and Sweet Valley High books in middle school, and then I picked up Tommyknockers by Stephen King at a garage sale for a quarter. I know, it's cliche to pick Stephen King. But going from Sweet Valley High to Stephen King was a definite turning point in my reading life! I can't remember what book first took my breath away, maybe Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoyevsky.

Links:

You can find Lena online everywhere, but these are the sites she frequents the most:

Lena's blog: http://lenahillbrand.blogspot.com

Facebook (www.facebook.com/LenaHillbrand)

Twitter (@lenahilbrand)

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4836823.Lena_Hillbrand

You can also find her book here:  http://www.amazon.com/dp/B004ZGB2I4

The Great Indie Give Away

Yikes. I've been naughty about not keeping my blog up to date with this great give away! And here we are already on day #20. Shame on me. However, if you check out the link, you will be able to check out the authors and their books included in the giveaway every day so far. Check it out and enter to win! It's easy, and it's free, and who can say no to free stuff?

http://coffeemugged.net/2011/07/04/great-indie-summer-read-giveaway-%e2%80%93-day-20/

Sample Sunday! Fire in the Blood, Chapter Three

We have left off with Haley tumbling to Eyidora, and meeting Tuggin, who has essentially kidnapped her.

Chapter Three

I looked at my naked wrist and rolled my eyes. How long would it take before I remembered I’d lost my watch during the quake? Trees hid the moonlight, making it too dark to see the rocks that I kept tripping over. Boulders too big to climb kept blocking our way, forcing us to leave the path, and even though Tuggin took the lead to carve our way through the thick bushes, branches continued to yank my hair.

My heels were wicked sore, and my toes cramped from trying to hang on to the shoes. I’d started to limp, but Tuggin didn’t seem to care at all. He was like a machine, keeping up a pace that made my legs throb.

Deep in thought, I didn’t see Tuggin stop and I plowed into him, making him stumble.

“Sorry,” I said.

He chopped his hand in the air to silence me. I peeked around him. A field rolled out ahead of us, and on the other side were, well, more trees. The pack’s straps rubbed my shoulders; I pushed my fingers underneath them so I could massage the sore spots.

“What’s up?”

Tuggin didn’t look at me when he said, “When you are with me, you do as I do. That means keep up and keep silent, tenya. It is not difficult.”

“My name’s Haley.”

He shrugged.

I plunked down on a fallen tree with my chin in my hand. He was the snarkiest guy I’d ever met. Seriously, I was the one being kidnapped. I was the one who held all snarky rights.

"Where are you taking me?" I asked.

"That is not your concern."

My brain flipped through our earlier conversation. “You’re taking me to Eyidora, aren’t you?”

“Eyidora is the fifth globe of the planetary chain. You are already on Eyidora.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, right.”

Tuggin glared at me. “Eyidora is home to the Eyids.”

I pulled a twig out of my hair and tossed it over my shoulder. “What are Eyids?”

“Nature’s gods.”

“Oka-ay,” I murmured. What was that religion that worshipped nature? Wicca? Was he, like, a witch? “If you say so.”

“I do.”

“I’m no astronomer, but I’m pretty sure there’s no such planet called Eyidora in the solar system.”

“Earth’s solar system is the first globe in the planetary chain. You are not in Earth’s solar system. You are on Eyidora.”

“Okay then, let’s just say that I decide to play along with this game and believe I’m on another planet,” I snorted so he knew how stupid I thought they whole idea was, “how’d I get here?”

“The gateway.”

I was supposed to believe that load of shit? He’d drugged me and dragged me into the forest and now he was feeding me a line about gateways and non-existent planets. What was his game?

“You forgot one important thing.” I paused to swallow the lump that had grown in my throat. “My mom.”

“I know nothing about her.”

“I do, and she’s going to be looking for me.”

Tuggin went back to studying the sky.

“She’s not going to let you get away with this!”

“You passed to Eyidora. All memory of you on Earth has been erased.” He crossed his arms over his chest as he watched me. “Forever.”

I leapt off the log. “Listen to me, you assh—“

“Does it matter?” he interrupted. “She was not your birth mother.”

How’d he know that? My brief frozen moment of surprise melted. “You jerk. It matters to me.” I stomped my foot. “I want to go home.”

“You enjoy inhabiting a globe of metal?”

“Take me home.”

Tuggin considered me for a long time. “I cannot.”

“Look, you don’t want me here, and I don’t want to be here.” I grabbed his arm. “Let me go home and I won’t tell anyone what you did, I promise.”

Tuggin stared at my hand and I snatched it back.

“It is too late. You are not on Earth, and you cannot return there. Ignorant girl,” he muttered.

“You seriously expect me to believe I just got bounced to another planet and that my Mom has forgotten me?”

“Yes.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “I think you’re full of shit.”

Tuggin’s eyebrows shot together briefly before he turned his back on me.

I checked our surroundings. The cave, the cliff, the field…none of these was part of Kent Falls State Park, at least, not the park I knew about. And the major earthquake… “You mean, I’m not dreaming any of this?”

Tuggin whirled, looking like he was about to choke. “You are Haley Allaire, from the fifth globe of Eyidora.”

“I’m from Connecticut—on Earth—and my last name’s Roble.”

“You were borne Eyidoran; however, fifteen years ago you were conducted through the gateway to Earth. And now you have returned.”

He spoke as though he really believed we were on another planet. Unbelievably, I was beginning to believe him. If I’d been born on Eyidora, maybe Mom was wrong about my parents dying. “Are my birth parents here?”

“They are dead.”

Just like that. No “I’m sorry” or “I hate to tell you this.” I hated him. I wanted to dig those beautiful blue eyes right out of his head, but opted for a good dose of glaring instead. “Do I have any other family here?” I couldn’t believe I was asking the question, as if it was a normal every day occurrence to fall through gateways and land on parallel worlds.

Tuggin held my gaze. “Net.”

“What does that mean?”

“No.”

I wanted to sag back onto the tree, but forced my legs to hold me up. “Why are you kidnapping me?”

Tuggin stared. “I do not understand.”

“It means you’re taking me against my will.”

“We all have obligations that are disagreeable. We must keep moving.”

I wanted to argue, but his hand was resting on his knife.

“After you,” he said politely, nodding toward the field.

“Fine.”

My feet felt as heavy as my heart. It seemed as though I’d been dumped on a strange world, all alone and a prisoner of Snarky Boy.

********************

Later that night, Tuggin stopped in a small clearing surrounded by pine trees. I collapsed on the ground, yanked off my shoes, and checked out my feet. There weren’t any blisters, but they were red.

Tuggin picked up a branch and swept fallen pine needles into a pile. When he pulled blankets from his backpack and spread one over the needles I realized he’d made a bed. Did he expect me to sleep with him? Would he hurt me? I tried to swallow, but my throat was dry, my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth.

Tuggin dropped onto his bed and ignored me.

A sense of relief loosened my tongue. “We’re sleeping outside?”

“Naturally.”

“You’re sixty watts short of a light bulb if you think I’m sleeping in the dirt. What if there are snakes?”

Tuggin closed his eyes. “Make do, tenya. And do not think to leave during the night. I shall know if you try.”

I crossed my arms and tapped my foot. Tuggin paid no attention to me.

“Fine.” I picked up his discarded branch and swept up my own pine needles, except that my pile was loaded with pine cones. When I looked up I caught him watching me, but he quickly turned away.

Ignoring Tuggin’s muffled snort, I plucked out the cones and tossed them aside then wrapped myself in the scratchy blankets from my pack and lay down. I tried to stop them—I wanted to stop them—but the tears came anyway. I shoved my face in my blanket, trying to muffle the sound so that Tuggin, the biggest tool on Earth—oh, excuse me, Eyidora—wouldn’t hear.

********************

I couldn’t sleep, though I’d been pretending for at least an hour. I thought Tuggin was asleep; his chest rose in an easy rhythm, with his hands folded on his stomach. I wished I’d paid attention to where he’d hidden his knife.

I rolled up my blanket and tied it to my pack. I’d gone to bed with my shoes on so that I could jet from there at a second’s notice. Carrying my stuff, I tip-toed to the woods, and had gotten to the edge of the clearing when Tuggin spoke.

“Going somewhere?”

I froze for a nano-second then dropped my backpack and bolted. Branches slashed my face, I stumbled over roots and rocks, but I sped on, too terrified to do anything more than run. Tuggin tackled me, and I slammed to the ground with a loud grunt.

“Let me go!” I shouted.

He flipped me over, crushing me with his weight, compressing my lungs with his forearm so that I couldn’t grab air.

“I warned you,” Tuggin growled.

“Let go!”

I tried to kick him, but he pinned my legs with his own. I sucked in a breath, the strength radiating from his body doing more to crush my resistance than fear. His knife flashed so close to my face the chill of steel paralyzed me.

“You have made a grave error,” he said.

I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the bite of steel to slice my neck. Instead, he hauled me to my feet and dragged me back to camp. I twisted, pulled, dug in my heels, but he was way stronger. Clamping one hand around my wrist, he dug into his pack and pulled out a length of rope.

“What are you doing?” I demanded.

Tuggin looped the rope around a tree then started tying it around my wrist.

I jerked back. “I don’t think so.”

He grabbed my wrist, crunching my bones in his grip, and finished tying the rope.

“You can’t tie me up.” I yanked against the rope, and it tightened like a noose.

“Do not struggle,” he said. “The more you resist, the tighter the knot.”

Blood rushed to my head and pounded against my eardrums. Resisting the urge to yank on the rope, I swung at his face with my free hand. Tuggin caught my wrist and shoved me against the tree. His cheek muscles rippled and his nostrils flared.

Fear strangled the breath in my lungs. "Please don't hurt me."

Tuggin lifted his chin with the big breath he inhaled. He slowly exhaled, leaned so close that his breath skimmed my ear. “Then do not tempt me,” he murmured.

He ripped the blankets off my pack and chucked them at my head, then flung himself onto his bed. I slid down the trunk, wrapped a blanket around my shoulders, and pulled my knees to my chest. I whipped up a daydream about Ian to compensate for the lone tear trickling down my neck. I'd bet a single kiss from him could whisk me away to another world. I clenched my teeth. I'd already been taken to another world, and hey--newsflash!--it sucked.

Book Review: Entwined, by Heather Dixon

Entwined, by Heather Dixon

This is a fairy tale style fantasy, complete with princesses and dancing and balls and magic. It follows the fairy tale format with the predictable kind of setting and happy ever after ending. In Entwined, Azalea, the eldest of 11 princesses, looks after her sisters after her mother's death and her father's emotional distance. Of all things, the girls love to dance, and when Azalea stumbles upon a magic room built just for dancing, each night they escape their year of mourning to dance away their troubles. But as with all fairy tales, a price must be paid for their magical escape.

Azalea is a likable character, who is strong and protective of her sisters. She has a lot of trouble understanding her father, who is king, and is quick to judge his actions (which she perceives is due to his dislike of the girls) and prone to anger throughout most of their relationship. I found Azalea's character to be very realistic for a 17 year-old, who is caught between leaving childhood behind and understanding the nuances of being an adult.

The bad guy is deliciously evil, and I enjoyed the seductive tone of this character. It's evident early on who the bad guy is, and I would have loved to have a little more suspense in this regard. With such a large ensemble cast, there could have been a few well-placed red herrings.

I loved the sisters and the relationships. These characters are all very well drawn, easy to distinguish with their own personalities and easy to picture. Much comedic relief is drawn through their interactions which was quite amusing. I mean, who can't find a gentleman being pelted by potatoes by a gaggle of young girls funny? I did!

The romance is strictly rated G, which is fine, however, I didn't find the romance convincing. I didn't "feel" the romantic connection, and had to take the author's word for it that the characters were in love.

For me, the first third of the book moved slowly, the 2nd third of the book had a little more action, and the last third of the book was absolutely riveting. While the ending was predictable, I found myself eager to pick the book back up whenever I had to take a break to see how it all ended.

A nice, smooth read overall, with likeable characters. 3.5 out of 5 stars for me.