Cover reveal! (an intermission)

An introvert, Special Agent Francesca moves to Las Vegas to escape her powerful, domineering mother. On arrival, multiple obstacles challenge her. She needs to approach a father she’s never met, a man who doesn’t even know she exists. Then she must play the role of a loving fiancée with a stranger. One who makes her question every unexpected emotion he provokes. Craving the chance for real undercover work, she grabs the opportunity to be involved in cleaning up gang corruption in a nasty neighborhood. When she poses as the new owner of a hotel, the deadly-dangerous situation ramps up and she’s forced to fight her way from one conflict to the next.

Sean Collins, Psychiatrist and LVPD Profiler, has never known anyone like Francesca Donovan. From first sight, he believes her to be a screwball but her beauty and maddening personality attracts him. Despite her prickly disposition, which gets them into a load of trouble, her rotten driving skills and her constant battles, he’s hooked. Once he’s roped into a mock engagement with her, his desire to make it real takes precedence over everything else in his world.

Sean Collins shared the seat kitty-corner in the four-booth set-up. He’d worked late trying to get a patient through a crisis and had gotten as far as the steak house, before hunger grabbed hold and dragged his sorry ass inside. Exhaustion had left his eyes gritty and his brain twisted like a pretzel, but two male voices still got through. Listening to a man unloading on his buddy about a mistaken one-night stand had his attention pretty darn quick.

When the friend’s advice matched with his own ideals of truthfulness between a husband and his wife, he found himself nodding. He didn’t agree with the jerk’s reasoning about being a player but he his basic counsel of honesty was sound.

Not that he was married; hadn’t found a woman he could trust further than he could throw her. What was it with the females in the state of Nevada? Did they all have to get caught up in the hype of the fun city?

Suddenly, a female voice entered his awareness. The husky note in the slightly slurred words was pleasing and he concentrated on what she was saying.

“Don’t listen to your friend. Not only is he an asshole, he’s full of shit. If you love your wife, then don’t tell her—ever.”

What the hell?

The screwball continued in the same vein, proceeding to give unwanted advice to a man who was in a fragile state and probably willing to listen to anything that would get him off the hot seat.

Sean came close to standing up and cutting her off. If he weren’t so tired, he’d have given her a piece of advice. Mind your own business! As a psychologist and profiler who often worked with the cops and saw every kind of misfit out there, he knew she’d most likely wrecked this man’s life. In her final statement, she let the poor guy have it with both barrels.

“In my way of thinking, being the best husband and father you can be will go some ways to making up for being the miserable, lyin’, cheating prick that you are.” Sean heard the noise of a chair being knocked over, a grunted swearword and light footsteps heading toward the door.

Something beyond his power to control brought him to his feet. The redheaded advice-giver stopped and their eyes caught for as long as it took her to stumble. Hers were pure liquid heat, the bluest blue he’d ever seen. Her glance slid past him as she straightened the chair and carefully manoeuvered her way to the door. The light over the entrance caught the coppery-gold highlights in the mane of loose hair flowing every which way over her shoulders and down her slight back. She bumped into the doorframe on her way out, stopped, re-aligned herself and then the nut-job was gone.

Stunned, he slid back down into his booth and the truth hit him. Hell, in Las Vegas there was every kind of mental disorder, maladjusted behavior, psychosis, neurosis and insanity a person could imagine, but some just blew the others right out of the murky pool. That stunning deranged wacko, whose fabulous long legs might get a man to do almost anything in order to get his hands on them, had just ended his otherwise shitty day perfectly. What a fucking shame!

     

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Author of The Vicarage Bench Series, Angels with Attitude Series, Vegas Series, Elvis Series and the brand new sizzling romantic suspense series called Undercover FBI. Mimi lives on the East coast of Vancouver Island and writes her romances with tongue in cheek and a mad glint in her eye. “If I can steal a booklover’s attention away from their every-day grind, absorb them into a fantasy love story, and make them care about the ending, then I’ve done my job.”

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#atozchallenge: Adlet

Jane kept a wary eye on the sky as she hurried along the path. Everyone knew that you shouldn't get caught out in the forest when the sun began to dip - and here she was, the sun dangerously low and a storm brewing.
“Were those herbs worth it?” she imagined the village sentry asking, refusing to reopen the gates. “Of course they’re worth it,” she mumbled under her breath. What else has been sustaining Mother? But she had gone too far and forgotten the time. A howl echoed in the distance. Jane hiked up her skirts and tried to run.
Barely thirty steps later, the rain began to pour down in torrents. “Who shelters in the forest at night? Only stupid girls like you,” she berated herself, scanning her surroundings for a place to wait out the storm. A dim light just off the side of the path attracted her attention. Her hesitation lasted seconds.
The neat little cottage was quiet.
“Hello?” Jane called as she hurried under the shelter of the porch. She wondered at the lack of the customary lamp by the doorway; the light she had seen shone through a single window. “Is anyone home?”
The door opened at her touch and she called out again. Nothing stirred, so she closed the door and hurried to the fireplace. She had almost fallen asleep in the warmth when the door slammed shut behind her.
“Who’s that?” she asked, her voice thin and shrill in her ears.
There was the sound of scuffling before a deep voice answered, “Shouldn't I be the one asking who you are?”
“I’m sorry, I didn't mean -”
“No, don’t turn around!”
Jane froze.
“You - you can stay. But - just don’t turn and look at me.”
“What’s wrong with you?” Jane tried to speak in measured tones.
“No - nothing. You’ll just… Just don’t.”
Jane kept her eyes on the fire, trying not to react to the noises behind her or the growing smell of wet dog. “What are you?” she finally asked.
Sudden silence. “What do you mean?”
Taking a deep breath, she turned around. The face of a young man stared at her, his eyes widening in horror. His four feet scrabbled against the wooden floor as he backed into the corner, holding out a towel as if to hide himself.
“What are you? Half man, half dog?”
“I’m an adlet. I won’t harm you,” he said quickly. “I don’t eat humans. I mean, there are some who - but I’m not - I don’t.”
“You were the howl I heard in the forest,” she said in a near whisper.
“You heard me?”
“Were you following me?”
“No, I was out hunting. I didn't know you were in the area. The rain washed away your smell.”
“You don’t smell that great yourself.”
He blushed. “I was caught in the rain.”
“You’re shivering!” she exclaimed. “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you,” she said as she approached him. “You’d better come to the fire and dry out.”
They stared at each other, each trying to judge the other’s intentions.
“I’ll go this way,” he gestured to the left, “and you can stay that way.” Jane nodded. A comfortable distance maintained, the adlet sighed as he settled down beside the fire. Jane sat opposite him, watching him with curiosity across the hearth.
“Do you have a name? I’m Jane.”
“Ataneq.” He stared dreamily at the fire. “Once, a long time ago, I used to be human.”

The transformation had taken Ataneq by surprise. 
“What have you done, Keelut?” he cried at the fleeing back of his attacker. Picking up his broken spear, he trudged back to the winter encampment. 
He was greeted by the points of many arrows, spears and harpoons. Eventually Qannik took wary steps towards him.
“What is it, wife?” he asked, dropping his hands to his sides. “Why do you cringe from me? What have I done?”
“Ataneq - you are - you are not welcome here anymore.”
“What?”
“You would be a danger to our children. And you know we cannot spare any eyes to keep watching over you.” And you would hate it too, she added silently, hoping that he would understand. 
“You know I wouldn't eat them. You know I have more honour than that!” Ataneq protested. “I would give my life to protect my people!”
“We know, but you wouldn't be able to hunt either. You can’t bear your responsibility to this tribe.”
“Will you come with me?”
She looked down at her feet.
“You must go alone, Ataneq.” Ataneq looked up to see that the shaman had approached them, still in his mask, as if he had just emerged from a trance.
“What have you seen?”
“The spirits say this is an evil thing, too strong for them. But I have heard the echo over the wind. One who may help.”
“Who?”
“Baba Yaga.”
Ataneq frowned. “Who is he? I have not heard of him.”
The shaman shook his head. “She is not of our culture. She lives where the sun sets. That is all I know.”

Continuing in Baba Yaga on 4/2!
Return to theme list.
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From Wikipedia:

The Adlet (or Erqigdlet) are a race of creatures in the Inuit mythology of Greenland, as well as the Labrador and Hudson Bay coasts. While the word refers to inland native American tribes, it also denotes a tribe with dogs' legs and human bodies.^[1] The lower part of the body of the canine Adlet is like that of a dog and their upper part is like a man's. All Adlet run quickly, and usually encounters between men end up in battle, with man as the victor.^[2]

In Inuit lore, they are often portrayed as in conflict with humans, and are supposed to be taller than Inuit and white people.^[3] In some stories they are cannibals.^[4] Inuit from Labrador use the term Adlet, tribes west of the Hudson Bay use the word Erqigdlit.^[1] The monstrous race begotten by the Adlet was identified with inland native Americans by the Labrador and Hudson Bay tribes; Inuit from Greenland and Baffin Land, which had no native American neighbors, use the term to refer to the half human, half canine creatures.^[5]

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P/S in other matters, visit the GIVEAWAY page to win a copy of Love in Penang! (Yes, I edited that. IT'S ME!)

Friday Flash, A to Z, Divergent, Books and rambling about everything else!

I was thinking of doing a Friday Flash, but I think I need to concentrate on working out my A to Z posts. I'm working on E right now, and it seems the Elves want to fight over some obscure treaty or covenant that the men (or rather, the one man in trouble) have no clue about. I still have a long way to go and looking at the rate I've been writing... this does not bode well.

In other news, I've just watched Divergent. And Four, oh, Foooouuuurrrrrrr. *sigh* I don't know if I would fangirl enough about Theo James, but Four. Mmmmm =)

Comic-Con 2013 - Thursday (Photo credit: robjtak)

Okay, maybe I should finally go read the book. Which has been sitting in my TBR list for a few years. But...

In other other news, I just bought 30 books at the recent Big Bad Wolf box sale. My unread shelves are overflowing. I have 3 or 4 books in my Kindle/iPad waiting to be reviewed. I don't know how to arrange books on my shelf anymore. I need more shelves.

Oh and GIVEAWAY! Go get some love with my giveaway now!

*heads back to writing*

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P/S we're hopping within the hop for Supernatural themed A to Z. If you think you fit the bill, join here!

Narratives: Who am I?

We've reached Exodus as part of our cell group's Bible study, and I stayed up until 2 a.m. on Monday night (uh, I mean Tuesday morning?) prepping slides (and getting distracted by YouTube and Dreamworks' Prince of Egypt) because I felt like it (totally unnecessary, but oh well). And now I'm staying up late Tuesday night, after said cell group, writing this. (Why, I wonder, why? Why can't I just go to sleep like a normal person?)

Moses' questions and protests (Read Exodus 3 and 4) when he was called by God to go back to Egypt and deliver the Israelites are questions that rise often in my life. Not always in the same sequence, not always only once, but often over and over again - especially the first one, "Who am I?"

"Who am I, that I should go to Pharaoh, and that I should bring the sons of Israel out of Egypt?" (Ex 3:11)

Who is he, indeed. Only a son of the line of Levi, the line of the priests (though the priesthood hadn't been instituted yet, so maybe that doesn't count?). Only the adopted son of the previous Pharaoh's daughter and therefore the step-brother of the current Pharaoh, a Prince of Egypt. I think that makes for added misery/conflict to the whole "let my people go" saga.

Who am I is the recurrent question in most of our lives today, maybe because the narratives in our lives often say we're only average, nothing special, so we can't do anything much. Maybe we buy in to the narrative that says I must be a rich white male to do anything worth noticing, or I must be a starving genius from a third world country to be recognised. The narratives in our heads and in our books tell us that nobody notices the middle-class, working class kids, the in-betweens, who try their best because they aren't special, precocious, or obnoxious enough to be watched. Only the outliers, the very good or the very bad, the Hero or the Villian, the ones with the special talent, get the attention we crave.

We're so plagued with self-doubt and self-esteem issues as a generation (or two) that it isn't funny anymore. So we find the need to pigeon hole ourselves, to define who we are by what we do (or at least by what we do best), or who we're related to (as long as they're famous), or who we know (the more famous or infamous the better), or any other thing that can somehow make us sound better and greater than those around us. Yet the more we try to attract attention to ourselves, the worse we feel about ourselves. There was a guy who tried to kill himself because he couldn't get the "perfect selfie". Our self-esteem issues are getting way out of control.

If you were to ask me who I am, I could give you a myriad lables, depending on who you are to me. I am a daughter, a cousin, a niece, an auditor, a writer, an editor, a singer, an actress, a worship leader, a dancer, a Christian, a child of God, a failure, a winner, a manager, a teacher, a blogger, a thinker, a reader, a hoarder, a single, a young adult.
These are the sum of my parts, but they are not all of me. I'm more complex that these titles imply, and yet, I use them because it's simpler that way, and if I were to excel in something (oh look, I edited a book that's on the bestseller list - I AM NOW SOMEBODY) then that's a way to bolster up my faltering ego, to prove to myself (and others) that I can do something.

Then you get God's answer to that question: It's nothing to do with who you are.

"But I will be with you, and this shall be the sign for you, that I have sent you: when you have brought the people out of Egypt, you shall serve God on this mountain" (Ex 3:12)

Like, what? Does that even make sense? And yet it does, because it takes the pressure off little ole fragmented you, and puts it all on the great big God of creation. It means that it doesn't matter who you think you are, or how much you doubt and hate yourself. All that really matters is that God Himself has chosen you and has promised to be with you until what He's called you to do has come to pass.

It's a difficult answer to come to terms with; it's one I struggle with most frequently. My inadequacies and failures often feel like a millstone around my neck, dooming me to further failures - sometimes not because I'm not good enough, but because I don't believe I am, therefore I don't see the need to try. There is a desperate need to change that narrative in my head, to still the voices that whisper "if you don't try at least you won't fail." And maybe that's why I've been coming face-to-face with an overwhelming wall of love, as if God is standing in my way saying, "look here, I've told you this before and I'm telling you this again, and I'm just going to shove it in your face until it gets into your head."

I'm desperate for a Word to tell me what to do, where to go, and all I keep getting is Anna, I love you. You're precious and special to me. Who you are is more important than what you do. I've called you, yes I've called you, but first and foremost, I've called you to be Mine. Anna, listen. Trust me. You don't need to 'love me enough' because I have love enough for both of us. I have faith enough to keep you going. I am that passion in your soul you've been holding tightly to. I am that song in your ear you've been listening for. I am the words in your heart you've been trying to write. Everything you've done for Me I know, I see, I remember. Your faithfulness is your righteousness, your steadfastness is proof enough of your love. I am a jealous God and I am jealously in love with you. I am a jealous God and I am jealously guarding you for Me.

Who am I then?
There's only one fitting answer to that question: I am His. 

#atozchallenge: the great and awesome theme reveal! #atozreveal

Back in December I was on a nature walk (haha, so unlike me) with my uncle’s family up in Cradle Mountain, Tasmania. Part of the trail was covered in planks, and it was pretty cold (at 6am!!) so there was frost on the ground. It was pretty magical. My head started filling with fairy stories, and then it struck me - how come all the cold places have really nice fairy tales? (Or at least Disney-fied ones?) Eastern folk tales seem to be more gory and scary and not (yet) cleaned up for kids - they seem targeted to frighten, rather than to inspire. I placed the idea out of my head until I visited in South Lake Tahoe, California in January and had my first experience ever of snow. That’s when I started to think seriously about it.

Snow. Wonder. Magic. Magical places. Fairy tales. Fairies and pixies and imps. Noble centaurs, light-footed elves and gruff dwarves. Dragons that swooped overhead, regal and majestic. I've always loved me a good fantasy story anyway, especially when there’s magic involved! Some of my favourite writers include Robin Hobb, JRR Tolkien, CS Lewis, Brandon Sanderson, Lynn Flewelling, Terry Pratchett and Garth Nix. It’s all magic, magical systems, strange and wonderful lands and lots of different sentient, maybe magical, species.

In some of my recent writings, when I’m not being contemporary, I’ve also been toying with writing in a more fairy tale style. A little archaic sometimes, with some old-world charm (I think).

Putting all of these together, I’ve come up with my A to Z theme:

flash fiction: mythical creatures

Some of these stories will be inter-related. Some of them aren't. It really depends on where the stories have taken me and the places they've led me to. I hope they take you to magical places too. Because of my snow bias, I'm going to be more Western/European biased as well, since I grew up on British books anyway. I apologise in advance if the places aren't quite as real as they should be (especially if you actually live there) because there's only so much wikipedia can tell me about places I've only been to in books. Feedback is always welcome!

I'll be updating the index as I continue writing (as they may change as I continue writing). Links have been added to the pre-scheduled posts (that I'm really lagging on!) but you won't be able to get to the posts until they actually go live! So BE PATIENT.
P/S They're all scheduled for noon Malaysian time (+8GMT) so if you live somewhere further West you won't have to wait as long as those in the East. 

Index:

• Adlet
• Baba Yaga
• Centaur
• Dryads
• Elves
• Fairies
• Ghillie Dhu
• Half-elf
• Imps
• Jaculus
• Kelpies
• Leanan sídhe 
• Mermaids
• Naiads
• Ogre
• Phoenix
• (Fairy) Queen
• Ragana
• Sylph
• Trolls
• Unicorn
• Vila
• Wyrm
• Xiuhcoatl
• Yara-ma-yha-who
• Zână

In conjunction with A to Z, because I think it's a great blogfest, I'd like to give YOU a chance to win a copy of my book, Love in Penang. The giveaway will run from today (woohoo! Theme reveal!) all the way through April. More details are on the dedicated giveaway page here.

2022 update: Deleted old code. This A to Z Challenge has been compiled (and edited) into a novella, which you can get here!

Print version of Imaginary Friends launches this Saturday!

LAST MINUTE EXCITING NEWS!!!!

Because I'm just SO bad at keeping up with everybody and everyone, I just realised that my friend Melanie Lee is launching the print version of her book Imaginary Friends: 26 Fables for the kid in us this Saturday, 2pm at the Putrajaya International Book Festival.

And I can't go because I've been making lunch plans AND tea plans like crazy.

So if you're somewhere in the Klang Valley, and are planning to go for the book fair, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE go and support her! (I wants an autograph *throws fit*)

The illustrations have been awesomely reworked (from what I can tell from the updates in her facebook page) giving it a more edgy, contemporary style than before.

I've previously reviewed the original e-book here in all its old-style, cutesy glory! (Fun youtube song included!) Go get it, 'kay?

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P/S - Check back here tomorrow for the A to Z theme reveal. And if you haven't signed up for A to Z yet, DO SO NOW.

PP/S - Imaginary Friends was born out of A to Z. REALLY WAN. Well, I think so anyway.

PPP/S - The Love in Penang giveaway starts tomorrow as well.

#bookreview: God's Loophole by Dan Rix

God's Loophole by Dan Rix
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Jeremy Rockwell has built the bubble - a prototype machine that isolates users from reality, letting them directly experience quantum effects, such as manipulate individual atoms. Rockwell brings in his girlfriend, the mysterious Raedyn Summers, and his brother, sports jock Gabriel, as business partners in his new tech start up.

Fighting against time to produce results for their backers, Raedyn and Gabriel spend more and more time using the machine. Even as they become addicted to the experience of being in the bubble, strange effects soon plague them; things that Jeremy cannot explain away scientifically.

Quantum physics (or any science, really) isn't my strong point so if there's anything wrong with the science, I couldn't say. It felt plausible to me, though there were probably things that could have been explained better. What I can say though is that Rix's writing has continued to improve from my first brush with him (Triton) and his earlier effort (Entanglement). The story pulls you in quickly and the book is paced fast enough that you don't find yourself worrying about them so much. In fact, it just adds to the tension when you get to the what-the-heck-just-happened ending and you wait for the next book...

Note: I received a pre-release copy of this book as part of Dan Rix's mailing list.

View all my reviews

See my reviews of Triton and Entanglement here.

God's Loophole will be released on March 27, 2014.

When an airplane disappears

Tick.
Time seems to stand still.
Eternities passed before the next -
Tock.
piece of news filtered
in, which didn't say much either. When
Tick.
will daddy come home?
The children ask, not knowing the pain,
Tock.
the anguish it brings
in its innocence. Wait and hope, wait-
Tick.
and pray, wait and wait
For the miracle that may never
Tock.
happen. But may. 'Cos
no one knows yet. And maybe no news
Tick.
is good news or no
news is worse news. I guess it depends.
Tock.

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Because fiction is how I deal with thoughts I am incapable of processing.

Official Malaysia Airlines announcements
Where is MH370 - curated Tumblr
Mirror.co.uk - Live
Reuters - Timeline of events

In search of my innate Malaysian voice

I don't listen much to TED talks, but this caught my eye whilst browsing Facebook.

I identify with her in many ways, growing up reading British and American books, growing up writing stories that have a very Western slant in my extremely Asian surroundings. I believe it was Shamini Flint (or was it Preeta Samarasan?) who talked about something like this as well in last year's Georgetown Literary Festival, questioning why there aren't stories about our Malaysian experience, about the things that make us, well, us.

I'd like to believe that my writing has started to change in recent years, that I'm allowing my innate Malaysian voice to emerge more and more. The yellow-haired princesses of my colouring books and early writings have changed to brunettes and black-haired vixens, and yet, there is still the fact that even my choice of words in writing still reveals that bias. 

Maybe it's my lack of proficiency at my own national language or my supposed mother tongue. Maybe it's the tail end of anglophilia that still has its grip on my heart. Or maybe it's a subconscious mindset that I need to start changing.

Either way, there needs to be a Malaysian Voice to support this growing awareness of who we are as a nation. Even as people are standing up to be counted politically, yearning to make a change, there needs to be a new Voice of literature standing up to pull us together, saying, this is who we are. This is what has shaped us. 

Not just for us.
But so that others can understand us too.

#bookreview: The Reluctant Prophet by Nancy Rue

The Reluctant Prophet: A Novel by Nancy Rue
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Reminiscent of Charles Sheldon's In His Steps, The Reluctant Prophet follows the story of Allison Chamberlain as she gets a divine nudge to do crazy things - like buy that Harley Davidson she doesn't even know how to ride. And care for that broken prostitute and her loud-mouthed son who have just lost their father and grandfather. Allison isn't always certain that she's hearing God's voice right, but that doesn't stop her from doing her best to follow what she believes is His will for her life.

Rue addresses several issues in this book - the call of God to take care of the broken and the downtrodden, the religiosity that has crept into the church, and the ability of one person, who opens her heart to God, to start making changes in her community. One of the things I liked about this story was the way it dealt with doubt and faith - and not knowing all the answers. It opens a place for dialogue for people who are struggling with their calling, especially when it is not quite accepted by the church.

Another thing I think this story addresses is the fact that people in the church can and should do ministry with the help of non-believers - one of Chamberlain's greatest support was her fellow HOG, Chief, who's quite a skeptic about God.

The book is not without it's faults: sometimes things just seem to fall into place too easily and too quickly. Sure, Rue is showing that God is sovereign and he uses our background and past even before we knew Him to equip us to do what He wants us to do today, but I would think that a more faith-driven approach might have been a better touch.

On a whole, The Reluctant Prophet was a great read - one of the better Christian fiction I have read in a while. This is the kind of thing that "Christian fiction" needs more of. (Well, I think so anyway).

View all my reviews

I think I'd go far enough to say that this is one of the kinds of books that I'd like to be writing. (Besides awesome swashbuckling, epic type fantasy saga, ahahaha). I just think there needs to be more real stories out there about faith. Not the types where everything is peachy and kind and nice and the worst problem you face is that you're not getting that promotion you wanted, or the guy you had your eyes on has fallen in love with someone else and you're so sure you're going to be single for the rest of your life, but things that talk about what true love in action looks like.

But things that make you question your faith and how you're living it.

#fridayflash: Son of the Sun, a snippet

He walked on unseeingly until he had passed far beyond the town before he stopped and looked around him. The verdant forest around him hummed with life and he stood in awe as he watched birds of bright colours flash across the skies above him, lighting from branch to branch. He leaned against a large rock, listening to the stream that bubbled nearby. He wanted to plunge into the water, to hide his pain and disappointment in the hands that had held him all this time. He wanted to float on its waves until it led him back home.

"Why do you sigh so loudly, little human?" a voice of endless wells said softly into his ear.

"Who are you?"

The rock beside him moved. "Does it matter who I am before you answer my question?"

Danis scrambled away as a scaled head raised itself and a bright gold eye looked down at him.

"I suppose it does not, O Great Dragon," Danis said, stammering. "I'm sorry, I didn't realise I was leaning on you."

"No. Most of you do not until I reveal myself," the Dragon said. "But you have not answered my question yet."

"I sighed because I could not find a wife. None of them would have me."

"And this wife is important to you, little one?"

"I suppose. Everyone of my age has one."

"And what is this 'wife' that everyone has but you do not?"

"A wife - well, a wife would be my partner and my love. We would raise children together and -"

"Ah, you look for a mate!" The Dragon looked ponderously upon him and Danis wondered if he was quite safe. "Why is there none for you in the town?"

"They say I am too old."

"You? Old? You are but a fraction of my age and I too have yet to find a mate."

"It is different with us. We do not live as long as your kind do."

"Hm, I suppose so."

A silence fell between them as the dragon continued to stare at Danis and Danis nervously backed away a step at a time.

"I apologise for disturbing your rest," Danis said. "I will go now."

"Wait."

Danis turned back to face the dragon's two burning eyes.

"Go north, little human. Go north until the winds blow cold and you walk on water. Go north, and there you will find her." The dragon blinked once, twice, and then it spread its mighty wings and flew away with a might rush of wind, leaving Danis' words floating unheard behind it: Is that a prophecy?

There was no answer to his question and all the forest was quiet now, his voice having frightened away all but the hardiest predators. He pulled his cloak around him, hugged his pack of bread and continued on the road. 

---

So this is a little snippet of a WIP that has been in progress since... 2012. Darn. That's a long time. 

Anyway, I thought it would be a nice teaser to the overall theme I have in mind for the A to Z challenge. 

Don't forget to reveal your theme with us on March 21! (Details and sign up here)

Also, the first ever A to Z twitter chat (#AZchat) will be coming to you Friday 2/28/14 at 6pm EST. Find out more here. 

P/S don't worry if you miss it. We're hoping to make it a weekly thing! 

#bookreview: The Mind Readers & The Mind Thieves by Lori Brighton

The Mind Readers by Lori Brighton
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Cameron Winters has always been the freak mind reader trying desperately to appear normal. Then one day, Lewis shows up and tells her that there are others like her. Defying her grandmother, whose only wish is to protect her, she runs away with Lewis for the promise that Aaron, her father's friend, will be able to teach her all that she needs to know about how to use her powers and to protect herself.

I downloaded this on one of my frequent "free download" sprees and opened it only today as I had a long transit at the airport. The book had me engrossed and I'm off to get the second one to continue the story!

The Mind Thieves by Lori Brighton
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

So Cameron Winters finally has a semblance of a normal life until a mysterious man named Maddox barges into her life claiming that he's been sent to bring her to her father - except that her father has been dead for over a decade. Things spiral out of control when armed men chase after her, and she is forced to trust him after being separated from her grandmother.

The only problem I have with this book is that Cameron is bouncing back and forth between who she trusts until you get a little confused yourself. I suppose that could be part of the suspense...

View all my reviews

I suppose I'll get round to reading the third book, The Mind Games, soon.

Glorifying God with your talents (Be yourself!)

So I have about 1.5 hours in the San Francisco Airport until my plane boards. I figured that's enough time for one post, even though a post normally takes me about 2 hours. Hah. I just have to be less long-winded then. Or less picky. Or less... distracted. (Definitely less distracted. Shoo, facebook!)

I've been kind of wanting to write a proper proper post for a while now, but have been busy travelling and then being distracted and then being tired and then being busy working and then... you know, life doesn't just want you to sit down and reflect and have a cup of tea and write rambles sometimes. But since this is down time anyway...

Well, during one of the cell groups I attended here, Iris asked "what do you think God is speaking to you about?" (or something along those lines). I think the biggest thing for me, which has been felt over and over again every week at church, is just the feeling of release, that it's okay to just let go and do stuff, because it glorifies God. I'm going to need to backtrack a long way to explain this properly, I think. I'm not even sure if I know how to explain it properly.

A gazillion years ago (or maybe about fifteen?), we were having one of those cell group days when it was just us faithful three - Josh, Fran and I. So we decided to just do extended worship (I think we walked out for supper after that, or that could have been another cell meet) and I remember Josh saying something like that I would bless people with my song, with my harmonies. (As you can tell now, I don't have a very good memory.) And I kept that word, because it was precious to me.

Then somewhere along the way, I became afraid. Self-conscious. Part of it was the worry that I was wanting to sing, wanting to do all this stuff for my own ego, because I liked doing it, and because I was good at it. Part of it was the introverted me getting shy when the spotlight came and when people praised me. And I think what confused me a lot was that strange feeling of wanting to be praised but not knowing how to respond to it, mixed with the feeling of not wanting to be praised and letting my gifts glorify God, jumbled up with the voice that said if no one notices or acknowledges what I'm doing, I'm just not good enough.

I don't know if anyone else feels the same way. (Please raise your hand if you do. Virtually, of course.) The question I think I really had was how do you know if you're doing this for God or for your own pride? I guess this is especially relevant for any Christian involved in stage ministries (singing, music, writing, - anything that showcases a visible talent) because it's easy to start serving in these ministries for God, and then get distracted and start doing it for your own ego. And all the while telling yourself that you're doing it for God.

Anyway, I guess what happened was that I started holding back. I didn't want to stand out, I didn't want to seem like I was showing off, I didn't want to push stuff, because of the thought "what will people say?" (I struggle with this a lot). And I felt what God has really been telling me this whole while is, I've given you talents for you to USE them.

So I tell myself - It doesn't matter what people say. It doesn't matter if I'm singing too loud. It doesn't matter if I look weird. It doesn't matter because if I'm doing it for God, and if my motives are pure, who is man to judge me?

This is especially crucial for me at this time, because my head is running full steam ahead with a gazillion plans - a new musical on the way (hopefully!), a creative arts team to start up, a whole creative arts network to build across Malaysia. The check is always to remember why I want to do this - not for myself, not for the glory, but to be able to build a ministry, build a place where people, creative people, can mirror God's beauty and creativity in our world.

There's much more to be said about this, but there are announcements and signs going up at the gate although there's another half hour to go before boarding but I get antsy about this kind of thing, so I'm going to stop here.

I don't know if it's made much sense because I don't have time now to read through the whole chunk of text I just vomited out but I hope it makes some sense to you.

So, goodbye America.

I'm on my way home. :)

Honor Among Orcs Cover Reveal

Honor Among Orcs

by Amalia Dillin 

Designed by: Melissa Stevens (Website)
Publication Date: April 1, 2014
Series: Orc Saga, Book One
Genre: Fantasy (18+)

After nearly a decade as the king’s whipping-girl, Princess Arianna has no intention of going quietly into marriage to some treasonous noble, or serving obediently as the king’s spy until her death is more convenient. When she discovers a handsome orc, chained and trapped inside a magic mirror, Arianna cannot help but see a lasting freedom from her father's abuse.

Left to rot inside a mirror by the king, Bolthorn never imagined his prayers would be answered by a princess. Nor did he ever expect to meet so worthy a woman after knowing her father’s cruelty. He needs her help to escape the mirror before the king marches against the orcs, but all he can offer Arianna is ice and darkness in exchange for her aid.

If Arianna can free the monster behind the glass, perhaps she might free herself, as well. But once they cross the mountain, there will be no return, and the deadly winter is the least of what threatens them on the other side. Romance blossoms in this gripping fantasy adventure.


EXCERPT

He knew these woods, sparse as they had become, and when they broke, he knew the tundra of the foothills too. Just before dawn, he found the outcrop beneath which he had made a shelter his first night beyond the mountains, and though he did not dare to light a fire, the sedge made a soft bed.

After a meal of apples and cheese, the last of their food, Arianna curled against his side, sharing the fur, and rested her head on his shoulder. He tested her forehead for fever and breathed his relief when she did not burn against his palm.

She tugged his hand away, a small smile curving her lips. “You worry overmuch. There are still two days of warmth before I must fight your cruel winds. I will be well enough for your mountains by then.”

His fingers lingered against her skin and her smile faded. He traced the clan-markings on her cheek and her lips parted, her heart thrumming in his ears.

“Bolthorn –”

Up the bridge of her nose and over her eyebrow, the umber flaked from her skin, coloring his fingertip. Down along the line of her jaw, to the pulse point beneath. Her breathing hitched. He only wished the marks had reached her collarbone, to give him some excuse to trail his fingers across the smooth skin there.

“You make a beautiful orc.”

“Not a Vala?” she asked, her eyelashes sweeping across her cheek.

“The Vala cannot marry.” The sunlight caught in her hair, flashing reds within the rich brown and he smoothed the soft, wild strands from her face. “They cannot bear children, or know the touch of any kind of man after they have made their vows. They know only the ancestors and the mysteries they reveal.”

“Oh,” she breathed.

Oh. It was the first thing she had ever said to him, trembling against the stone. She trembled now, too. As she should, he thought, knowing herself within the arms of an orc. He closed his eyes and drew his hand back. This was a dangerous game to play with her so near, so vulnerable.

“Sleep well, princess,” he said, his jaw tight against his need. “You’ll want your strength.”

She made a noise in the back of her throat, but when he glanced at her, she had turned away.

About the Author

Amalia Dillin began as a Biology major before taking Latin and falling in love with old heroes and older gods. After that, she couldn't stop writing about them, with the occasional break for more contemporary subjects. She lives in upstate New York with her husband, and dreams of the day when she will own goats--to pull her chariot through the sky, of course. 

Amalia is the author of the Fate of the Gods trilogy from World Weaver Press, and the soon to be released Orc Saga, coming April 1, 2014. You can learn more about her work at www.amaliadillin.com

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GIVEAWAY

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#bookreview: New Frontier by Jeremy Lee

New Frontier by Jeremy Lee
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Space is the new frontier - the new frontier of an age-old battle between the Alliance and the International Trading Company. The Argos is crippled, leaving its crew stranded in the middle of space, with an exploratory team stuck on an unknown planet. Was it an accident or was it industrial espionage?

New Frontier started off rather slowly and I almost wanted to stop, but it grew more interesting as more characters and their backgrounds were revealed.
I do think I would have liked it better if it were in a more linear sequence. It makes sense how it's written, that every time a new character or new motives are revealed, there's a time jump into the past to see the background of this new development, but after a while it got a little tiring to keep track of the jumps.

Even so, New Frontier is an interesting read.

I received a copy of New Frontier in exchange for my review.

View all my reviews

About the Book - About the Author - Prizes!!!

About the prizes: Who doesn't love prizes? You could win one of two $50 Amazon gift cards or an autographed copy of New Frontier! Here's what you need to do...

1. Enter the Rafflecopter contest
2. Leave a comment on my blog

That's it! One random commenter during this tour will win the first gift card. Visit more blogs for more chances to win--the full list of participating bloggers can be found HERE. The other two prizes will be given out via Rafflecopter. You can find the contest entry form linked below or on the official New Frontier tour page via Novel Publicity. Good luck!

About the book:
As a new era dons for humanity with all the attendant celebrations and riots, finally breaking the bonds which left us tied to the Solar System is reported as being the moment which unites all the disparate parts of the world and brings us into an era of peace and discovery, and yet this giant leap is almost instantly marred by greed erupting into violence. The Argos, the ship sent out on this historic mission, is left adrift and crippled far from home, survivors of this mysterious attack struggle to hold their ship together and come to the rescue of homesteaders and compatriots relying on them to not only survive but retaliate, and rescue a world where the Solar System has become a rugged frontier ripe for colonization and opportunity filled with the honest and ruthless carving out lives past the veil of civilization.

Several rival corporations, monopolies delving into every industry imaginable, have all but supplanted nation-states, keeping governments around only as a necessary fiction to pacify populations, and the realm of business now reaches into politics, military, religion, and all other aspects of human life. The frontier regions of space are a place filled with new homesteaders, miners, merchants, bandits, and scientific minds that is barely able to keep from slipping into total anarchy, a frontier region where people can disappear from their lives and head off into the unknown. New Frontier is an adventure which stretches from the furthest reaches of space, to slums in backwater cities, to the lunar capitol, and ultimately onto the wreckage of the great ship. The gallant and the selfish alike are forced to face the best and worst of human civilization far from home and decide what they truly believe in.

Get New Frontier through Amazon or Barnes & Noble.

About the author:
Born in Odessa, Texas Jeremy grew up mostly in southern New Mexico. Strongly influenced by his grandmother’s adoration of history, and his mother’s love of reading, both of which he adopted early in life. Inheriting a work ethic from his father which served him well in the manic world of theater, Jeremy Lee started out writing for the stage, first in Denver and then in small New York venues while attending the New York School for Film and Television.
With 2011's Where I'm Bound I Can't Tell he began working in novels with a deeply personal look at growing up without growing old, which simultaneously expanded into a worldwide adventure through the 20th century.
Kings of New York began a long and rewarding relationship with Neverland Publishing, which continues even today. This gangster tale played in the wonderland of 20's New York, and painted a picture of cons just trying to survive and make a dishonest living the ruthless world they inhabit.
With New Frontier his career took an abrupt turn, looking not into the past but into the possibilities of the future. Exploring themes of strife, political corruption, greed, adventure, and religion, the book touched off a storm from reviewers. Jeremy Lee currently lives in Denver with his family, writing ferociously when he can't find and excuse to be in the middle of nowhere fishing, getting blissfully lost in a museum, or occasionally just watching old Bogart movies and eating pizza on the couch.

Connect with Jeremy on his website, Facebook,or GoodReads..

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Cover reveal: Touched with Fire

Welcome to the TOUCHED WITH FIRE cover reveal! This fabulous historical fiction has received a new look and it's going to blow you away. Now before we get to that, let's talk about Touched With Fire, a novel of the Civil War inspired by the true story of Ellen Craft.

Ellen Craft is property; in this case, of her half-sister Debra, to whom she was given as a wedding gift. The illegitimate daughter of a Georgia plantation owner and a house slave, she learned to hate her own image, which so closely resembled that of her “father:” the same wiry build, the same blue eyes, and the same pale—indeed, lily-white—skin. Ellen lives a solitary life until she falls, unexpectedly, in love with a dark-skinned slave named William Craft, and together they devise a plan to run North. Ellie will pose as a gentleman planter bound for Philadelphia accompanied by his “boy” Will. They make it as far as Baltimore when Will is turned back, and Ellie has no choice but continue. With no way of knowing if he is dead or alive, she resolves to make a second journey—South again. And so Elijah Craft enlists with the 125th Ohio Volunteers of the Union Army: she will literally fight her way back to her husband. Eli/Ellie’s journey is the story of an extraordinary individual and an abiding love, but also of the corrosive effects of slavery, and of a nation at a watershed moment.

“The story tells of how a brave and resilient black woman went to great lengths to gain not only her freedom, but that of the man she loved.” - Amazon Reviewer Kelley McCormick

“[A] deliberate and sincere historical fiction wends its way through this abject time in our nation’s youth...Touched with Fire is a welcome addition to the ever-increasing canon of Civil War fiction.” - E. Warren Perry, Jr., author, Swift to My Wounded: Walt Whitman and the Civil War

Celebrate this great new cover with us by entering our giveaway below and spreading the word!

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Read an excerpt:

April, 1855

Macon, Georgia

William Craft admired the interior of the small church, much of which he had built. His master required him to work ten hours six days a week, but he squeezed in many late nights as well as his free Sundays, his one day of rest, to do most of the building’s finishing work and the crafting of the altar and pews. Being a skilled cabinetmaker set him apart from most slaves, and it brought in a good income to Master Johnston, his owner and a banker in their town.

Yes sir, he thought, it was not as large or as fancy as the white church, but it had style—his style: smooth clean lines to naturally draw your focus to the altar, and lovingly crafted highlights and scrollwork to fix your gaze on the pulpit where the minister preached.

A large, elderly black woman sat down heavily next to him.

“Good morning to you, Miss Betsey,” said Will, bowing slightly. “And how are you this fine Sunday morning?” A house slave belonging to Colonel Thomas Collins, a prominent member of the white community, Will had known Miss Betsey all his life.

“Terrible,” fussed the old woman, wheezing. “My arthritis is so powerful bad today it’s a wonder I can walk.”

“Well, I’m sorry to hear it.”

“Sorry and a cat’s whiskers don’t never fix a thing, but thank you anyways. But listen, young man, I’s sitt’en here for a reason. How old is you?”

“I’m twenty-five,” he answered. “But you know that.”

“Yes I do, but I wanna be sure you does, because it’s high time you take yourself a wife. A young, honest ’n fine-looking buck like you got no business being single. I knows lots a young girls be only too pleased to be the aim a your partiality, and it’s high time you got about it.”

Every matron in town seemed to want to play matchmaker for him. It was a subject he dearly preferred to avoid, but he was trapped in church with no escape.

“Well, it’s not so easy as that, Miss Betsey,” he started, but was cut off.

“What in thunder ain’t easy? You a man ain’t you? Just look ’round this here church,” she said, waving her cane in the air and nearly knocking the hat off the woman sitting to her front. “It ain’t like you ain’t got a plentitude a pretty gals like chickens in a barnyard ready for plucking. What ain’t easy ’bout it’s what I’d like to know? Ain’t there even one good nuff for you, Mr. All-Fire-High-and-Mighty?”

“Now Miss Betsey…”

“Don’t you ‘Miss Betsey’ me. It ain’t right a fine young boy like you ain’t do’en his duty. Now I can pick a woman make you happy as a tick in a dog’s ear, just see if I can’t.”

“I’m sure you can, Miss Betsey…”

“Then what’s your problem?”

“The problem is a slave marriage has no standing, and you know it. We don’t belong to ourselves, but to our masters to decide if and when we come or if and when we go, as their pocketbook or mood decides. Now what kind of a marriage is that?” he said heatedly.

“Shush,” Miss Betsey hushed him, “keep your voice low.”

She looked at the Reverend Zachary Hess at the front of the church, the white preacher sent every Sunday to watch over the slave congregation. Sitting quietly observing the assembling crowd, he was fiftyish, fat, squinty-eyed and sporting a handlebar moustache of truly epic proportions. The whites forbade the assembly of slaves for fear they would hatch plots to rebel, but church was the exception. Religion, properly supervised, was believed to have a calming influence on the mind of the slave, and Hess was there to see that this church and its messages were properly supervised. He did not preach himself; a black minister, Reverend Evander, did that. He just sat by the altar staring balefully at the congregation and watching, watching, watching. Watching him watch them gave William a case of the shivers, but there was nothing to do about it.

Miss Betsey leaned in close to William and in a low voice said, “Now you listen and you listen good. Ain’t noth’en in life for nobody that’s their own. The good Lord says when you lives and when you dies, where you goes and what you does, and that’s as true for any white man as for any nigger. The day a jubilation’s coming, William, when all slaves will taste the sweet, sweet fruit a freedom. I knows it in my heart. Maybe I ain’t gonna see it, but it’s a coming none the same.”

“Well, the good Lord is taking his own sweet time about it,” said William bitterly.

“Don’t you blaspheme Lord Jesus,” said Betsey. “I reckon the Lord knows His business better even than some grand pumpkin like you.”

A solitary figure walked past, taking a seat five pews to their front. That it was a white woman surprised William until he recognized her as Ellie Smith, a short, thin and handsome young woman with jet black hair and a sad yet defiant set to her face and eyes. William knew she was the slave daughter of Major Smith; everyone in town knew the scandal of her parentage. Her mother was also the offspring of a master-slave coupling, making Miss Ellie a quadroon.

Two of the women next to her got up and moved, leaving her prominently alone as she stared straight ahead.

“Why do they do that?” whispered William.

“Do what?” said Betsey.

“Why do those women move away from her like that?” he said, nodding to Ellie.

“Oh, you mean that piece a calico? Just see how fine she dresses, putt’en on airs like she’s the better of us all just cause her daddy’s a white man and she white as the harvest moon in a midnight sky her own self. And for all her airs them clothes ain’t nothing but hand-me-downs from her daddy’s real gals.

“And she talks even better’n you, all high and mighty when she ain’t no more’n just another nigger. I knows for a fact she can’t neither read nor write, just like the rest a us, even with her fine airs. And she won’t have nothing to do with no black man, she’s so proud a that white skin. Proud a what I don’t even know except being conceived in shame and she act like she got a badge a honor. It ain’t fitt’en.”

William noted many young men watching Ellie, a strange blend of lust and hostility in their eyes. There was not a man here who did not want her, knew he could not have her, and felt a fierce resentment because of it. A resentment apparently shared, thought William, by most of the women.

William caught the look in the Reverend Hess’s eyes, who was also staring at her, and the lust William saw there curdled his blood.

William shook his head. He knew she refused the advances of every young man in the congregation, and even if her dresses were hand-me-downs from her half sisters, she was still the best-dressed woman in church. And growing up in the house with her half sisters, she did speak like an educated woman, even if she was not. Of course, William was the same. Dealing almost exclusively with educated whites in his trade, he learned to speak like one.

“I hopes you ain’t got your eye set on that trash,” sneered Miss Betsey. “That ain’t nothing but trouble, and that’s the Lord’s sweet truth.”

“No,” said William. “I don’t need that problem in my life. I’m no fool, Miss Betsey.”

#fridayflash: where feet may fail

It was just one of those days, until it wasn't. We were hanging out in his living room, me stretched out on the couch, him sitting on the floor, the TV whispering incessantly. Overhead, his mother's footsteps tapped, never stopping. He leans his head back on the edge of the couch, looking up at the ceiling. I reach over to stroke his hair.

"Do you ever feel like you've gone too far to turn back?"

"Turn back from?"

"The things that you've decided to do," he turns his head to look at me.

"That would depend what those things were." I feel a churning in my heart, that familiar grip of fear.

"It's like I feel that we were made for something more than this. And yet every time I want to go, I decide that I will move on, something holds me back. But I push on a step at a time, until suddenly I feel like I'm walking on water and I'm going to drown."

He pauses, licking his lips, turning away to stare at the TV again. I reach my hand toward him, almost taking his hand, but settling instead on his shoulder. I don't quite know what to do or what to say. I don't know if I should tell him that I feel the same way too.

"I don't know where to go, and yet I know I can't stay. It's the most frustrating feeling in the world. And yet - there's that yet again - there's a knowing. That something is right. Something is shifting. I just can't tell what."

He takes my hand in both of his, sitting up and facing me.

"Will you go with me," he asks, "even though I don't know where I'm going?"

His puppy dog eyes melt my heart and I swallow. "I will anchor you, if you will anchor me," I say.

"But what if I drown?"

"Why would you? You're anchored to the Rock."

He nods slowly.

"So we will be Abraham and Sarah," I say as he turns away again, "stepping out into the great unknown."

"And together we will be Peter, and Ruth, going always to where His voice calls."

"I am afraid, Joshua," I say in a small voice, quieter than the purr of the advertisements.

"So am I, Esther," he whispers back. "But together - us and God, we'll go places."

I cannot help the tears that fall, or that fist in my chest. But deep in my belly, there is peace.

Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders

Let me walk upon the waters

Wherever You would call me

Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander

And my faith will be made stronger

In the presence of my Savior

#bookreview: Backward Compatible: A Geek Love Story

Backward Compatible: A Geek Love Story by Sarah Daltry
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Backward Compatible was a totally adorable and geeky love story. It was cute in a dorky kind of way though I have to admit that I'm not much of a gamer so some of the jokes were probably lost on me. Nevertheless it was a very entertaining and enjoyable read.

The only minus point I would give it was that it wasn't quite as clean a read as I was hoping for.

View all my reviews

P/S: Signed up for the A to Z Blogging Challenge yet? Join us here!
P/P/S: Done? Next join us for the theme reveal here!

announcing the #atozchallenge theme reveal! #atozreveal

Okay, so the last I checked yesterday, there are 650 people signed up for the A to Z blogging challenge 2014. (SIGN UP HERE NOW).
(Mini recap: 26 posts from A to Z in April.)

Soooooo last year, A to Z Participant Mina Lobo started the Theme Reveal Blogfest and this year #TeamDamyanti is getting the ball rolling for the unofficial (hopefully annual) unveiling of your A TO Z THEME! *clap clap clap*

P/s Drop by and greet the other hosts of this reveal: Csenge, Guilie, Samantha and Vidya! Especially Samantha who did our beautiful badge!

Okay, so the theme is not necessary, but some people like to have one... and I think I have an inkling of a theme already! It's something to do with stories from countries which have this:

But I'm not saying anything more until the reveal on March 21st, 2014.

So what on earth do YOU need to do?

Just sign up on the linky list below, and publish a post on the 21st of March talking about your A to Z Theme - tell us what your theme will be, and why it would be interesting for your existing readers and A to Z Participants.

This would be a great opportunity for you to link up with other A-to-Z-ers, and by the time the challenge begins in April, you'll have an audience waiting for your posts.

Sounds great?

Then SIGN UP HERE!

I'm an #atozchallenge minion!

I use Grammarly to correct grammar online because the Nazi in me admits it sometimes needs help.

Okay, so I've been participating in the A to Z challenge for 3 years now and this fourth year, the lovely Damyanti, who co-hosts the challenge, has graciously picked me to be a minion!!

http://minionslovebananas.com

I hope I'm a good minion and not explode in the middle and turn out like this guy:

http://hdphonewallpapers.com/iphone-5/wallpaper/evil-minion#

ANYWAYS.

A to Z Challenge!

Basically... you write 26 blog posts in April, every day except on Sundays. Well, you can still post on Sundays if you want to, but it won't be part of the series. Each post starts with a letter of the alphabet, i.e. A on April 1, B on April 2, C on April 3 and so on.

Your posts can be on ANYTHING. It doesn't even need to be WRITTEN. It could be pictures, if that's what you like.

In 2011, I wrote a novelette of approximately 13,000 words just by writing a 500-word chapter each day.
In 2012, I wrote 26 separate flash fiction pieces of about 500 words each.
In 2013, I attempted to write 26 flash fiction pieces as well, but I hit a hard time at work and managed only about half.

This year... I don't know what I'm doing yet.
Flash fiction's the easiest choice.

But maybe I could try something different this year.

Any suggestions?