Summer break is just around the corner for the two of us, which means that it's time to pull out all of our favourite summer books! Because we are super excited about this, we decided to share our top books to read in the summer with you :)
Monday, 29 June 2015
Sunday, 28 June 2015
We Do Write Welcomes Claire and Miranda
The We Do Write team is growing! We're pleased to welcome Claire and Miranda, two fantastic YouTubers who go by the name themawkwardpotatoes, to the blog. Claire and Miranda will be vlogging about bookish themes in correlation with We Do Write, bringing the younger generation's viewpoint into focus on book-related topics, top tens, anticipated books, and more!
How cool is that! Let's start with some introductions!
My name is Miranda and aside from being in high school, I absolutely love reading, writing, and dancing. As far as books go, I am not picky at the genre; as long as I can get lost in the words, I’m good! I have always been in love with words and the impact the same words can have on different people, and I think that is why I fell in love with writing poetry.
Along with all of that, my favourite thing to do is film videos with my best friend Claire.
My name is Claire and along with reading I am immensely passionate about the Arts. I love singing and playing the guitar as well as performing on the stage in musical theatre productions. I'm a bit of a theatre geek! I also have a love for words; I write stories as well as songs to express myself. For me, reading is a way to escape from my own world and get lost in a new one where anything is possible. My best friend Miranda and I have a BookTube channel where we fangirl together over our favourite books. We always have a blast filming together!
We're so excited for this collaboration, and hope that our viewers enjoy the new addition to the blog. And be sure to subscribe to their YouTube channel!
Friday, 26 June 2015
Into The Dark: Cover and First Chapter Reveal
Welcome to this week’s M9B Friday Reveal!
This week, we are revealing the cover AND Chapter One of
Into The Dark by Caroline Patti!
Be sure to enter the giveaway found at the end of the post!
A girl’s sweet sixteen party is supposed to be among the most memorable events of her life. But on the night of hers, Mercy Clare wakes in the waiting room of a hospital with no memory of how she got there. To make matters worse, she’s wearing something she’d never be caught dead in: her best friend Lyla’s clothes.
Mercy’s nightmare is just beginning. The doctor arrives to tell her that it’s she who lies in the hospital bed waiting to die. A trip to the bathroom confirms Mercy’s fears, as Lyla’s face stares back at her and Lyla’s curvy figure pokes through her tight clothes.
But finding out what’s really going on won’t be easy. Because if Mercy wants her body back, it might just cost her Lyla’s life.
Title: Into the Dark
Publication date: August 18, 2015
Publisher: Month9Books, LLC.
Author: Caroline Patti
Publication date: August 18, 2015
Publisher: Month9Books, LLC.
Author: Caroline Patti
Amazon Kobo iBooks Google Play
Chapter One
Mercy
A TV, bolted high on the wall, buzzes in the background, the faint sound of the local news reporter’s voice robotically reciting the events of the evening. “One dead and another in critical condition … ”
The waiting room is empty of people. Plastic chairs line the walls. Magazines are strewn about. How did I get here?
The news reporter continues to speak. “What appears to be a suicide occurred tonight in the alley behind local watering hole, Wally’s Pub. Closed for a private party, owner Kate McCrimons had no comment on tonight’s event. Relatives of the victim, high school teacher Matteo Andreas, were not available for comment.”
It’s all coming back to me now. The party. The alley. Seeing Mr. Andreas with the gun in his mouth. Oh God.
“Hey, you’re awake.” Jay stands before me holding two coffee cups.
“Did you bring me here?” I rub my temples with the palm of my hand. My head is pounding.
“You don’t remember?” Jay’s eyes narrow and tiny creases indent his furrowed brow. He doesn’t look at all like his normal goofy self. His brown eyes are concerned and focused intently on me.
I close my eyes and hold my head in my hands. “I feel sick.”
“Kate is on her way,” Jay continues. He sits down next to me and sets the cups on the table. “Just a warning, she’s pretty freaked out.”
Tiny waves of nausea roll in my stomach. My mouth is dry and parched. “I’m gonna throw up.”
“Shit.” Jay jumps from the chair. I can hear him scrambling around the room. The noise is making me feel worse.
Something bangs into my legs. I open my eyes just a little to see a garbage can. Jay sits back down next to me and holds my hair back as the contents of my stomach empty. My stomach clenches as I grip the sides of the can. I hate throwing up. I hate the convulsions, the acid taste that fills my mouth, and the way a single strand of spittle dangles from my lip like I’m a drooling dog. Luckily, this is happening in front of Jay so it’s only moderately mortifying. Having known him all my life, he’s seen all sides of me: the good, the bad, and the worse.
“Here.” Jay slips a napkin into my hands. He rubs my back lightly. “Should I get a doctor?”
Jay kisses the top of my head and I flinch. My head snaps up too quickly and I stare at him while the room around me sways. “What are you doing?” I have to close my eyes again as another wave of sick crashes over me.
He takes his hands off me. “What?”
“Why’d you kiss me?” I peer at him sideways.
“I’m sorry.” He says it like a question, and then he looks at me like I’m nuts. “I was just trying to make you feel better, Ly.”
“Okay, but … ”
He called me Ly. As in Lyla. My best friend Lyla. “Why are you calling me Ly?” My pounding head cannot take this conversation.
“That’s what I always call you.” Jay shakes his head. His mop of curls swishes along his forehead. He brushes it out of his eyes by raking his hands through his hair. “How much did you drink tonight?”
I’m not quite sure.
The smell of my own sick is singeing my nostrils so even though it makes the room spin, I raise my head to look at him. A few strands of long, dark hair fall across my face. Hesitantly, I reach up and pull a clump around so I can see it better. My eyes cross as I stare at the nearly black hair. What the hell? Frantically, I pick at it, like an addict with a fixation.
“Lyla, what are you doing?” Jay asks.
I drop the pieces of hair and smooth them back. “Nothing.”
“You’re acting really weird.”
I’m acting weird? He’s the one who keeps calling me Lyla for God’s sake!
“Here you guys are!” Lyla’s older sister, Kate, speaks with an exasperated tone. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. There’s like sixty waiting rooms in this place.” She takes one look at the garbage in front of me and exhales, annoyed. Being a bar owner means Kate has plenty of experience with vomit.
“You okay?”
Slowly, I nod as I slide the can away from me with my feet. She sits in a chair just across from us. “I brought you some clothes.” She holds out a brown paper bag to me and waits for me take it.
“Don’t give me any grief about what I picked. I was in a hurry.” Kate’s appearance is frazzled. Deep brown curls spill forth from the messy bun of hair piled on top of her head. Her feet jiggle up and down. Kate always fidgets when she’s nervous.
In the bag I find Lyla’s “Crazy for Cupcakes” tee, a pair of jeans, and some flip-flops. Why did Kate bring me Lyla’s clothes?
“Do we know anything?” Kate asks.
“No,” Jay tells her. “We’re still waiting for the doctor.”
“Is Eric here yet?” Kate asks about my dad.
“Not yet,” Jay answers.
My dad is on his way. Relief sinks in knowing that in a few minutes I’ll be able to hug him and he’ll make everything okay again.
“You want some coffee?” Jay reaches for the cup and holds it out to Kate. He gestures toward me as he says, “I got it for Ly, but I don’t think she wants it.”
I do not. I hate coffee.
“Sure.” Kate takes the cup and sips slowly. She gives me a reproachful look when she says, “You drink too much coffee as it is.”
I start to protest, to tell them both that it’s Lyla, not me, who insists on stopping every morning at Peet’s, but Kate quickly adds, “Well, go change. This isn’t exactly the place for heels and cleavage.”
Cleavage? I look down and see what she means. I’m busting out of the seams! This isn’t my dress. This is Lyla’s dress. I would never wear a dress like this. For one thing, it’s pink. And it looks like dip-dyed ace bandages wrapped around my body. I hold the bag close to my chest hoping to conceal my heaving flesh. Wait. I don’t have heaving flesh. And I don’t have raven hair. Something is very, very wrong.
“Okay.” As I stand to go, I teeter on Lyla’s five-inch stilettos. Jay catches my elbow and steadies me.
“You need some help?” he offers.
“I got it.” I think. I cannot get away from them fast enough.
Not only do I feel like I’m going to vomit again, but I also feel like I’m having a mental breakdown. My hair is a different color. My breasts are like cantaloupes. I’m not wearing my own clothes. I swallow hard to push down the panic and a touch of bile.
Kate eyes me suspiciously. “Do you want me to come with you, just in case? You don’t look so good.”
“I’ll be fine,” I say, hoping to reassure both her and myself. I don’t have much confidence that I can walk far in Lyla’s shoes. For a split second I think about going barefoot, but decide against it. Luckily, it turns out the bathroom is just across the hall.
Lyla’s dress clings to me like Saran Wrap. I must look like Bambi learning to walk as I concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. The carpet of the waiting room isn’t that treacherous, but the slick, overly polished hallway isn’t as forgiving. My left ankle rolls and I stumble just as I reached the bathroom door. Damn!
The bathroom is dark. I flip the wall switch and the light flickers, groans, and burns nearly out, casting a ghoulish yellow glow of light over the room. “Great.”
I grope my way toward the sink. It is then that my eyes adjust to the dark, and for the first time I see my reflection. Only it isn’t my face peering back at me. It’s Lyla’s, my best friend since the third grade. Leaning in closer, I stare, mouth agape, into the mirror. Her blue eyes are rimmed with multiple coats of black eyeliner. The red of her lipstick is faded, leaving her lips with only a hint of berry stain. My hands explore, skimming the sides of her cheek, hoping, praying that at any second the illusion will shatter. Despite my desperate hopes, the reflection never morphs from Lyla’s into mine.
I rack my brain trying to piece together everything that happened tonight. It’s my birthday I suddenly remember. We were having a party at Kate’s bar. A party I didn’t want. Lyla had talked Gage into being my date. Well, more like forced. But we were having a good time. He’s really nice. I went outside; I remember that part. And my teacher was there, that letch Mr. Andreas, and he grabbed me. He kept saying all this weird stuff to me and I tried to get away and that’s when Gage came out and started yelling at him. Mr. Andreas had a gun. And he … and he …
I remember the sound of the gun going off, and the brief second of relief I felt when I realized he hadn’t shot Gage. But then I saw all the blood. There was so much blood.
I stagger backward knocking into the stall door. It swings open and I drop to my knees over the toilet. I heave and heave, but nothing comes up. I curl into a sitting position. My fingers knot into my hair.
When I finally stand up, I expect—okay hope—that everything will have returned to normal, that I’ll be me again, and that seeing Lyla was just some sort of weird post-traumatic stress thing. But when I look in the mirror, I don’t see me. I see her.
This isn’t possible. There’s no way. I must be dreaming.
That’s the only explanation. This is just a dream. A very strange, twisted dream.
But it isn’t a dream. I press my hand to the mirror. It’s solid. It’s real. This is really happening.
“Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!” I curse as the mother of all freak-outs rumbles inside me. What am I supposed to do now?
Mercy
A TV, bolted high on the wall, buzzes in the background, the faint sound of the local news reporter’s voice robotically reciting the events of the evening. “One dead and another in critical condition … ”
The waiting room is empty of people. Plastic chairs line the walls. Magazines are strewn about. How did I get here?
The news reporter continues to speak. “What appears to be a suicide occurred tonight in the alley behind local watering hole, Wally’s Pub. Closed for a private party, owner Kate McCrimons had no comment on tonight’s event. Relatives of the victim, high school teacher Matteo Andreas, were not available for comment.”
It’s all coming back to me now. The party. The alley. Seeing Mr. Andreas with the gun in his mouth. Oh God.
“Hey, you’re awake.” Jay stands before me holding two coffee cups.
“Did you bring me here?” I rub my temples with the palm of my hand. My head is pounding.
“You don’t remember?” Jay’s eyes narrow and tiny creases indent his furrowed brow. He doesn’t look at all like his normal goofy self. His brown eyes are concerned and focused intently on me.
I close my eyes and hold my head in my hands. “I feel sick.”
“Kate is on her way,” Jay continues. He sits down next to me and sets the cups on the table. “Just a warning, she’s pretty freaked out.”
Tiny waves of nausea roll in my stomach. My mouth is dry and parched. “I’m gonna throw up.”
“Shit.” Jay jumps from the chair. I can hear him scrambling around the room. The noise is making me feel worse.
Something bangs into my legs. I open my eyes just a little to see a garbage can. Jay sits back down next to me and holds my hair back as the contents of my stomach empty. My stomach clenches as I grip the sides of the can. I hate throwing up. I hate the convulsions, the acid taste that fills my mouth, and the way a single strand of spittle dangles from my lip like I’m a drooling dog. Luckily, this is happening in front of Jay so it’s only moderately mortifying. Having known him all my life, he’s seen all sides of me: the good, the bad, and the worse.
“Here.” Jay slips a napkin into my hands. He rubs my back lightly. “Should I get a doctor?”
Jay kisses the top of my head and I flinch. My head snaps up too quickly and I stare at him while the room around me sways. “What are you doing?” I have to close my eyes again as another wave of sick crashes over me.
He takes his hands off me. “What?”
“Why’d you kiss me?” I peer at him sideways.
“I’m sorry.” He says it like a question, and then he looks at me like I’m nuts. “I was just trying to make you feel better, Ly.”
“Okay, but … ”
He called me Ly. As in Lyla. My best friend Lyla. “Why are you calling me Ly?” My pounding head cannot take this conversation.
“That’s what I always call you.” Jay shakes his head. His mop of curls swishes along his forehead. He brushes it out of his eyes by raking his hands through his hair. “How much did you drink tonight?”
I’m not quite sure.
The smell of my own sick is singeing my nostrils so even though it makes the room spin, I raise my head to look at him. A few strands of long, dark hair fall across my face. Hesitantly, I reach up and pull a clump around so I can see it better. My eyes cross as I stare at the nearly black hair. What the hell? Frantically, I pick at it, like an addict with a fixation.
“Lyla, what are you doing?” Jay asks.
I drop the pieces of hair and smooth them back. “Nothing.”
“You’re acting really weird.”
I’m acting weird? He’s the one who keeps calling me Lyla for God’s sake!
“Here you guys are!” Lyla’s older sister, Kate, speaks with an exasperated tone. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. There’s like sixty waiting rooms in this place.” She takes one look at the garbage in front of me and exhales, annoyed. Being a bar owner means Kate has plenty of experience with vomit.
“You okay?”
Slowly, I nod as I slide the can away from me with my feet. She sits in a chair just across from us. “I brought you some clothes.” She holds out a brown paper bag to me and waits for me take it.
“Don’t give me any grief about what I picked. I was in a hurry.” Kate’s appearance is frazzled. Deep brown curls spill forth from the messy bun of hair piled on top of her head. Her feet jiggle up and down. Kate always fidgets when she’s nervous.
In the bag I find Lyla’s “Crazy for Cupcakes” tee, a pair of jeans, and some flip-flops. Why did Kate bring me Lyla’s clothes?
“Do we know anything?” Kate asks.
“No,” Jay tells her. “We’re still waiting for the doctor.”
“Is Eric here yet?” Kate asks about my dad.
“Not yet,” Jay answers.
My dad is on his way. Relief sinks in knowing that in a few minutes I’ll be able to hug him and he’ll make everything okay again.
“You want some coffee?” Jay reaches for the cup and holds it out to Kate. He gestures toward me as he says, “I got it for Ly, but I don’t think she wants it.”
I do not. I hate coffee.
“Sure.” Kate takes the cup and sips slowly. She gives me a reproachful look when she says, “You drink too much coffee as it is.”
I start to protest, to tell them both that it’s Lyla, not me, who insists on stopping every morning at Peet’s, but Kate quickly adds, “Well, go change. This isn’t exactly the place for heels and cleavage.”
Cleavage? I look down and see what she means. I’m busting out of the seams! This isn’t my dress. This is Lyla’s dress. I would never wear a dress like this. For one thing, it’s pink. And it looks like dip-dyed ace bandages wrapped around my body. I hold the bag close to my chest hoping to conceal my heaving flesh. Wait. I don’t have heaving flesh. And I don’t have raven hair. Something is very, very wrong.
“Okay.” As I stand to go, I teeter on Lyla’s five-inch stilettos. Jay catches my elbow and steadies me.
“You need some help?” he offers.
“I got it.” I think. I cannot get away from them fast enough.
Not only do I feel like I’m going to vomit again, but I also feel like I’m having a mental breakdown. My hair is a different color. My breasts are like cantaloupes. I’m not wearing my own clothes. I swallow hard to push down the panic and a touch of bile.
Kate eyes me suspiciously. “Do you want me to come with you, just in case? You don’t look so good.”
“I’ll be fine,” I say, hoping to reassure both her and myself. I don’t have much confidence that I can walk far in Lyla’s shoes. For a split second I think about going barefoot, but decide against it. Luckily, it turns out the bathroom is just across the hall.
Lyla’s dress clings to me like Saran Wrap. I must look like Bambi learning to walk as I concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. The carpet of the waiting room isn’t that treacherous, but the slick, overly polished hallway isn’t as forgiving. My left ankle rolls and I stumble just as I reached the bathroom door. Damn!
The bathroom is dark. I flip the wall switch and the light flickers, groans, and burns nearly out, casting a ghoulish yellow glow of light over the room. “Great.”
I grope my way toward the sink. It is then that my eyes adjust to the dark, and for the first time I see my reflection. Only it isn’t my face peering back at me. It’s Lyla’s, my best friend since the third grade. Leaning in closer, I stare, mouth agape, into the mirror. Her blue eyes are rimmed with multiple coats of black eyeliner. The red of her lipstick is faded, leaving her lips with only a hint of berry stain. My hands explore, skimming the sides of her cheek, hoping, praying that at any second the illusion will shatter. Despite my desperate hopes, the reflection never morphs from Lyla’s into mine.
I rack my brain trying to piece together everything that happened tonight. It’s my birthday I suddenly remember. We were having a party at Kate’s bar. A party I didn’t want. Lyla had talked Gage into being my date. Well, more like forced. But we were having a good time. He’s really nice. I went outside; I remember that part. And my teacher was there, that letch Mr. Andreas, and he grabbed me. He kept saying all this weird stuff to me and I tried to get away and that’s when Gage came out and started yelling at him. Mr. Andreas had a gun. And he … and he …
I remember the sound of the gun going off, and the brief second of relief I felt when I realized he hadn’t shot Gage. But then I saw all the blood. There was so much blood.
I stagger backward knocking into the stall door. It swings open and I drop to my knees over the toilet. I heave and heave, but nothing comes up. I curl into a sitting position. My fingers knot into my hair.
When I finally stand up, I expect—okay hope—that everything will have returned to normal, that I’ll be me again, and that seeing Lyla was just some sort of weird post-traumatic stress thing. But when I look in the mirror, I don’t see me. I see her.
This isn’t possible. There’s no way. I must be dreaming.
That’s the only explanation. This is just a dream. A very strange, twisted dream.
But it isn’t a dream. I press my hand to the mirror. It’s solid. It’s real. This is really happening.
“Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!” I curse as the mother of all freak-outs rumbles inside me. What am I supposed to do now?
Caroline T Patti is the author of The World Spins Madly On and Too Late To Apologize. When she’s not writing, she’s a school librarian, mother of two, wife, avid reader and Green Bay Packer fan. You can chat with her on Twitter:@carepatti or find her on Facebook.
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Title(s) will be sent upon their release.
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Thursday, 25 June 2015
Interview with Tish Thawer, Author of The Witches of Black Brook
The Witches of BlackBrook by Tish Thawer
(The Witches of BlackBrook #1)
Published by: Amber Leaf Publishing
Publication date: June 23rd 2015
Genres: New Adult Paranormal Romance
Through space and time, sisters entwined. Lost then found, souls remain bound.
Three sisters escape the Salem witch trials when the eldest casts a spell that hurdles their souls forward through time. After centuries separated, fate has finally reunited them in the present day.
One the healer, one the teacher, and one the deceiver.
Will their reunion return their full powers, or end their souls journey forever?
A Witches of BlackBrook novel.
INTERVIEW
Welcome to We Do Write, Tish! When and why did you begin
writing?
In 2010 I woke up from a dream
and had the title of my first book running through my head. Minutes later, I
knew the other two titles, and had the entire story-line of The Rose Trilogy
all worked out.
Who encouraged you or what made
you decide to write a novel and seek publication?
I’ve been a member of Shelfari
since 2007, and was asked to become a Librarian for them after putting in
countless hours of editing. Being so emerged in books and seeing all the
wonderful series on a daily basis while working in the backend of the site, to
say that books had become my life, was an understatement. I’m now one of 13
Librarians for the hundreds of thousands of members, as well as one of it’s top
50 editors.
What drew you to write
Paranormal Romance?
I always go back to the phrase,
“Write what you know.” And while my genre is considered paranormal for the
unrealistic and fantastical elements, it’s what I know. It’s what I prefer to
read and what I’ve studied in my actual life. (Psstt...in case you’re
wondering, yes, I’m a witch.)
Of all your characters, who’s
your favorite, and why?
Raven. She’s tough but
sensitive, sexy but tom-boyish, and has a wicked sense of humor and a sharp
tongue.
What would you love to write
someday but haven’t yet?
I started a contemporary romance
trilogy that I’d love to return to. I just have to figure out how to write it
without someone getting bitten and turning into a vampire or werewolf. LOL
Were books a big part of your
life growing up? If so, what books would you say influenced you most as a
child?
Actually...no. My mother was the
reader in the family and to this day, she teases me about how it took thirty
some years for me to finally catch on.
What are two things people might
be surprised to know about you?
I’m 44, have 16 tattoos, and
cuss like a sailor. (Sorry, Grandma.)
I started teaching dance when I
was 15 years old.
When you’re not writing, what do
you enjoy doing?
Watching TV and movies, and
playing games with my family.
Three things always found in
your refrigerator:
Stuffed olives, Soda, Cheese
Writing is often a sedentary
profession. Is there anything you do to beat stress and keep in shape?
I hike and exercise in my home,
and dance as often as possible.
You’re in line at Starbucks.
What are you ordering?
Java Chip Frap with Whip or a
Caramel Apple Spice
Where do you go when you need to
recharge?
Sedona, AZ or back home to
Colorado.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Tish Thawer writes paranormal romances for all ages. Her magickal elements and detailed world-building are a welcome constant in every novel. Before becoming a writer she worked as a computer consultant, a photographer and a graphic designer. She also operates a custom glass etching business, in addition to being a wife and the mother of three wonderful children. She's been a fan of the paranormal for as long as she can remember. Anything to do with superpowers, myth and magic has always held a special place in her heart. From her first paranormal cartoon, Isis, to the phenomenon that is Twilight, this genre has always been a part of her life.
You can find Tish on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/AuthorTishThawer
A common FAQ: "How do you pronounce her last name?"
Answer: Think "Bower" or "Thow-er". It's Persian!
T4T: Horror Business and Fingers in the Mist!
Hello and welcome to this week’s Two for Thursday Book Blitz #T4T
presented by Month9books/Tantrum Books!
presented by Month9books/Tantrum Books!
Today, we will be showcasing two titles that may tickle your fancy,
and we’ll share what readers have to say about these titles!
and we’ll share what readers have to say about these titles!
You just might find your next read!
This week, #T4T presents to you:
Horror Business by Ryan Craig Bradford and
Fingers in the Mist by O'Dell Hutchison
Fingers in the Mist by O'Dell Hutchison
Be sure to enter the giveaway found at the end of the post!
Armed with a passion for classic B-grade horror movies, a script co-written by his twin brother, and a wicked crush on his death-obsessed neighbor; hardcore horror fan Jason Nightshade must finish his student film.But his plans are derailed when the children of suburban Silver Creek start disappearing – his twin brother among them. Battling a possessed video camera, a crazy zombie dog, a monstrous bully, and a frighteningly broken down family life, Jason embarks on a mission to find his lost brother so the two can write an ending for his story.As any horror fan knows, saving the day won’t be easy, as Jason finds himself forced to face the real world where death isn’t just a splash of fake blood on a camera lens.
“Horror Business is, more than anything, an old-school horror story, digging deep into King's meticulous nostalgia, processed through the postmodernism ofScream, filtered at turns through the nerdiness of Dawson's Creek and Super 8, and then drenched in the blackness of a teenage boy's brain.” – Keith McLeary, Author
“What the author really captures here is not just a skin-crawling tale of monsters. He shows us where the real horror lies, in the awkward development of children into teens, the fearful uncertainty.” – Matt E. Lewis, The Radvocate
“Horror Business combines intelligence and entertainment into a particularly creepy read.” – Jennifer Bardsley, Author
Ryan grew up in Park City, Utah. His fiction has appeared in Quarterly West, Paper Darts, Vice, Monkeybicycle and [PANK]. He currently lives in San Diego where he acts as Creative Director for the nonprofit literary arts organization So Say We All. He’s the co-editor of the anthology Last Night on Earth and founder of the literary horror journal, Black Candies.
Sixteen-year-old Caitlyn Foster never believed in the legend of the Redeemers. That was before the trees started to whisper her name. Before a murder of crows attacked the town. Before she and her family came home to find a bloody handprint on their front door, marking one of them as a sacrifice. As Caitlyn’s friends are ripped from their homes, she knows it’s only a matter of time before the Redeemers come for her. Caitlyn has the power to stop the terror, but she’ll have to decide if she’s willing to sacrifice herself to save those she loves.
WHAT READER’S ARE SAYING:
“Hutchison does a fine job crafting a creepy tale that will leave many readers sleeping with a light on, or at least reading with an extra one on.” – Jenn, Book Reviews and Giveaways
“Fingers in the Mist created an eerie atmosphere that pervaded the entire story. The town, the legend, the characters-- everything was downright creepy.” – Kimber Leigh Wheaton, Author
“I LOVED every single second of this book, and cannot wait to see what he comes up with next!” – Jaime, The Best Books Ever
O’Dell was born in a small rural town in Idaho. There were no Redeemers living there (that he knows of). After attending college in the Pacific Northwest, he found his way to the Houston area. By day, he is a Business Systems Analyst and at night you can either find him sitting at home, dreaming of random super powers he wishes he had, or directing plays and musicals at various theaters around Houston.
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Wednesday, 24 June 2015
Blog Tour: Scar of the Downers - Interview with Scott Keen PLUS Giveaway
Today we're joining the SCAR OF THE DOWNERS tour by chatting with author Scott Keen. Grab a cool drink and settle in while we get to know all about Scott and his book. And be sure to check out the rafflecopter contest at the end of the post.
Hi, Scott! Welcome to We Do Write! Tell us a little about yourself.
Tell us about SCAR OF THE DOWNERS.
Sounds interesting! How did the story come to you?
Eight or nine years ago, while I was still in graduate school, I started writing a short story. Perhaps it was just an idea of a story. A rich man had adopted an orphan from the street and was watching him play in the yard. There was something within the orphan that was pulling him back to the streets. It was as if the street had control over him.
That was the birth of this story. How do you break free from something that has control over your life? How far would you go to achieve that freedom? That idea is what inspired me. In fact, it still inspires me.
Are you a plotter or a pantser?
I consider myself a little bit of both, but I probably do more plotting. I have to know where I’m going. I don’t like plotting too much because I like to leave enough room for something to grow organically from the storyline. You never know when an idea will come to you, so you must leave enough space in your story for that to happen.
What do you have to have nearby while writing?
A book and something to drink (usually it’s coffee).
If you could have any super power, which one would you choose?
Reading minds would be a very useful tool, but so would super human strength. I think I would go with super human strength.
What's the weirdest thing you ever googled?
I would have to say that it was probably some weird malady that I, or one of my daughters, was experiencing.
Finish this sentence: If I'm not writing, I'm probably…
... spending time with my wife and daughters.
Let's hear your shout outs!
My parents have been helpful (especially watching the children when needed), but they’ve also helped with my book launch and have been supportive of that.
But I could not have done any of this without my wife, Elizabeth. She is truly my biggest supporter and fan. She’s a great encourager to begin with. It’s just a part of her nature. But she is the one to whom I am most indebted. I love her greatly.
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