All For One Giveaway

Wendy Russo, Joanne Brothwell, Shawna Romkey, and myself, have come together to give you, our lovely readers, a kinda-sorta Buy One Get THREEFree deal on our books. That averages out to $1.99 per book!

The BOOKS:

• Silencing Breath, by Joanne Brothwell
• The Devil’s Triangle, by Toni de Palma
• January Black, by Wendy S. Russo
• Speak of the Devil, by Shawna Romkey

And that’s not all! Some participants of the All For One event will also be eligible to win all four books in print, each signed by the author, PLUS a June ebook release from Crescent Moon Press.

Sound too good to be true? Well, there is an itsy-bitsy catch. You have to post an honest* review on Amazon to get each successive book.

The RULES:

1. Participants may start with any of the four books, but they must progress through the books in order.

Silencing Breath → The Devil’s Triangle → January Black → Speak of the Devil

2. After reading, each participant must post an honest review on Amazon. Star ratings alone do NOT count toward a free ebook without an accompanying review of at least 20 words.* A link to this review should be emailed to the book’s author AND the author of the ebook being requested to receive the next file.

3. The authors participating in this event have no expectations of positive reviews. To comply with FCC rules, participants must state either at the top or bottom of the review that the book was given by the author in exchange for an honest opinion.

4. Extra points toward the grand prize will be awarded for reviews left on Goodreads, blogs, or other sites. These URLs will be entered into and tracked by Rafflecopter.

5. All reviews must be posted by 11:59 PM US Central time on June 15, 2013, to be counted toward the grand prize.

*We are looking for honest reviews that will help other readers to decide whether or not they’d like our books. If you don’t like the book, please say so, and for the benefit of other readers, please say why. If for any reason we feel your review is not honest, your entry into the grand prize will be disqualified.

This event is open internationally.

And YES. If you’ve already reviewed any of these books, you can play!

The Emails:

If you have reviewed “Silencing Breath,” send the link to:

joannebrothwell [at] gmail [dot] com, writertoni [at] yahoo [dot] com

Subject: Requesting ALL FOR ONE Copy of “The Devil’s Triangle”

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If you have reviewed “Devil’s Triangle,” send the email link to:

writertoni [at] yahoo [dot] com, wendysrusso [at] gmail [dot] com

Subject: Requesting ALL FOR ONE Copy of “January Black”

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If you have reviewed “January Black,” send the link to:

wendysrusso [at] gmail [dot] com, shawnaromkey [at] gmail [dot] com

Subject: Requesting ALL FOR ONE Copy of “Speak of the Devil”

---

If you have reviewed “Speak of the Devil,” send the link to:

shawnaromkey [at] gmail [dot] com, joannebrothwell [at] gmail [dot] com

Subject: Requesting ALL FOR ONE Copy of “Silencing Breath”

a Rafflecopter giveaway

COVER REVEAL: Blood Hex by Erin Butler

Two girls. Four centuries. One curse.

Isabella started it—all because a boy fell in love with her—but it ends with Sarah.

They meet in secret, Isabella and Thomas, during the witching hours while the rest of the villagers hide behind locked doors. And even though she's scared, she wants Thomas more. He'll protect her from the night, from his father who'll decide her future, from the paranoia-fueled hunting parties taking away innocents.

Centuries later, seventeen-year old Sarah runs away to an aunt she never knew she had. Her dad? Dead. Her mother? A liar. All she wants is memories of a father she never got—memories her mom refused to give her—memories she is determined to get from her aunt, her father's journal, and a town full of crazies.

What she discovers is her father's death isn't as innocent as everybody claims, and everyone—the Wiccans, the townies, even her quasi-boyfriend—all seem to be hiding something. The secret the history-rich town lives to keep entangles Sarah into a centuries old witch curse.

Blood Hex on Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17335703-blood-hex

Find Erin here:
www.erinbutlerbooks.com
https://twitter.com/ErinButler
www.facebook.com/pages/Erin-Butler/222797011068049

Why I Don't Have a Dream Agent

Admit it you have one, or did at one time. Yup, that's what I thought. As humans we all have our dreams, dream homes, dream jobs, and so on. It's good to dream. But what if your dream isn't in the cards? Yeah sure we can never predict if we may win the lottery and wind up actually living in our dream home. But, when it comes to "dream agents" writers tend to have this idea that it will happen. But we cannot predict what our dream agent will really think of our manuscript. Especially with as subjective as publishing really is. What one agents doesn't like, another may love. I even had my dream agent picked out at one time, yet I now question the point of even having one.

Why?

For starters just because an agent is well known, well liked, and has a great resume doesn't necessarily mean that agent is perfect for me. There could be any number of reasons why we wouldn't mesh, some not having anything to do with a manuscript. Personalities could clash, visions about my future in writing could differ, and the list could go on and on.

Then there's the issue with setting myself up for a huge disappointment. What happens if I send my query to my dream agent and get a rejection? That's a huge blow to one's ego, and ultimately creativity. I don't want that to happen. I don't want to place all of my dreams on one specific agent, only to see things come crashing down.

I have adopted a stance in life these days, what's meant to be will be. If I get a rejection from an agent then that wasn't the agent for me. I've also adopted an it-will-happen-motto. I will get an agent eventually, but I don't want to push which agent that will be.

There are plenty of great agents out there. Not every great book I have read has the same agent. In fact there are few authors I really like who have the same agent, at all. Yes, I researched my favorite books to see who the author's agent was. This is partly how I created my agent query list.

And there are plenty of newer agents at well established agencies just beginning to put their list of great authors together. All agents have to start out at the bottom and work their way up to the top. I've added several of these agents to my query list.

I will not allow myself to have a dream agent. Not before I have an agent. Because my true dream agent will be the agent I sign with, the one who sells my books, and the one I turn to every step of my publishing career.

What is your stance on dream agents?

Goodreads Contest Winner!!

And the Goodreads Contest winner is...

                                                               Gina Weis!!

Congrats, Gina. You will be receiving your very own copy of The Devil's Triangle.

Order your own copy here: http://www.amazon.com/The-Devils-Triangle-Toni-Palma/dp/1939173035/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1363089831&sr=8-1&keywords=the+devil%27s+triangle

The J word

  There are many J words: feeling jealous (of friends’ success), being   jaded (of the publishing industry), constant jeering (of others). The J word that’s been on my mind has been judgment.  

 It usually begins with others’ judgments of you. Who you are, what you write, what you do. Then there are those moments of judgment – “Why do you laugh so much? It’s like you are trying to attract attention.” or “Why do you waste your evenings writing when you could be spending time with your mother? It’s not like you are published or anything.”

Judgment, when it comes from a trusted source, begins a chain reaction like no other. There’ the initial surprise: What! Really, do you mean that!? Followed by outright denial: No, I don’t do that. I don’t waste my time. And then anger: How dare she think of me like that? How dare she judge me? That leads to hurt: Does she not understand me? Is she right? Am I a horrible person who hides behind my writing? The most important effect of others’ judgment of you is how you start to see yourself. How it shapes your view of yourself. You begin to wonder who you really are and whether you’ve been deluding yourself all this time. Maybe you aren’t cut out to be a writer. Maybe the evenings you sit in front of your laptop are just an excuse to escape from the world and your real responsibilities.

But then you remember that you love those hours where it’s just you and your characters. That you’ve grown so much as a writer these past few years. That once you finish a couple more drafts you’ll be ready to query your polished manuscript.

Self-judgment is that hill we’ve got to climb over before we can accept someone else’s judgment. Judgment of who we are. What we write. What we wrote a few years ago. What we’ve not yet written. And this acceptance can take various forms. Acceptance can mean that we agree that we aren’t cut out to be writers. We accept we love to read but haven’t become better at our craft. That it will remain a hobby. Or acceptance can mean that we speak out that we’re not hiding behind our writing. That our friend was simply wrong. That writing is vital to who we are. It makes us who we are. Our acceptance can help us deal with the judgment and move on.  It can help us heal the dents to our self-esteem; move beyond self-judgment and continue to write, work on our craft and strive to become who we want to be.

When I remember (and nine out of ten times I don’t) I tell myself that judgment is an opinion. One person’s opinion. It can bring you down or you can use it propel yourself forward on that journey to become a better you and a better writer.

Three Month Countdown to the Release of Triangles!

 

TRIANGLES will be released in about three months! To continue the countdown, I'm introducing another character today, and one each month, until the release on June 18! I'm also including a giveaway with each character. The details follow the introduction. Today, Jessica Taylor is up!

Hi, I'm Jessica Taylor, Autumn's older sister. Though I'm a nurse in a big hospital, my hardest job by far is being Autumn's guardian. She changed when our dad died, and when our mom got into a terrible accident a few months back, she got worse. She quit school, fights me on everything, and refuses to face her issues head on. I try the best I can to help and guide her, but nothing works. Her mind is made up to get out of Jersey and that's that.

My hope is that our cruise to Bermuda will bring us closer. Maybe a little fun, away from all the drama and issues we face every day, will be just what the doctor ordered. I just hope she behaves herself on the ship and doesn't get herself into any trouble.

I know my sweet sister is still in there. I just have to find a way to bring her back to me so we can be a family again.

TODAY’S Giveaway:

1. Comment on this blog post about anything that strikes you today!

2. Please tweet about this contest using the hashtag #MysteriousBermudaTriangle. The link to that tweet may be included in your comment. If you don't have Twitter, you can do a status update on Facebook. Doing both would be even better!

3. If you’d like, add Triangles to your Goodreads to-read list here: http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/13610402-triangles

 And/or

Like the Triangles page on Facebook here:

https://www.facebook.com/TrianglesYA?ref=hl

 

That's it!

Now for the prize:

An ARC of Triangles! Be one of the first to read it!

Giveaway details:

Contest starts March 7, 2013, and ends March 20, 2013, 11:59pm EST. Winner will be announced March 21 on this blog.

Contest is for US readers only.

Each month, I will introduce another major character and have other prizes!

You must be 18 years old to enter.

Winner will be chosen using random.org.

For a complete list of rules, see our contest/giveaway policy page.

Shawna Romkey Rocks It!

Check out an excerpt from Shawna Romkey's great new book, Speak of the Devil. Due out March 15th!


Rain fell, not uncommon for late spring in Missouri. “If you don’t like the weather here,” my grandfather would say, “wait five minutes.” Of course, I’d visited distant relatives in Maine once before, and they said the same thing.

Julie fumbled with the wipers while I pulled the sun visor down to check my face in its little rectangular mirror, even though I’d only left my vanity like five minutes ago. The lights on either side lit up the interior of the car. I reached into my tiny party purse to find my lip gloss, which was easy to locate since I’d only packed the essentials in my bag: phone, some cash, and make-up. As I glanced at myself, I saw Mike in the reflection, smiling at me from the back seat. I stuck my tongue out at him, making him laugh, and put on the lip-gloss, fully aware of how flirty I acted.

The windshield wipers couldn’t keep up with the sudden downpour. The pitter-patter turned to thumping. Hail came down in gumball-sized pellets. “Damn.” Julie jerked the steering wheel to keep The Whale off the curb.

“Slow down, Jules.” Mike gripped Julie’s headrest. “We can pull over until it passes.”

“Yeah.” She squinted to see the road before her.

I pressed my lips together to smooth out the gloss. “Damn is right. I didn’t bring a jacket.”

The Whale swerved to the right crunching along the gravel on the side of the road. I braced myself in my seat. Julie leaned up to the steering wheel and peered over it as my grandmother sometimes did when she drove. I squinted because of the stupid light up visor mirror. I slammed it shut, but Julie panicked and over corrected, pulling The Whale to the left and careening over the yellow dotted line in the middle of the street.

“Julie!” Mike shouted.

Time slowed and ticked out in heartbeats.

Ba bum.

Julie cringed, her hands moving up to shield her face. Her head turned away from the highway.

Ba bum.

Mike reached protectively from the back seat.

Ba bum.

The headlights illuminated the rail of the overpass.

Ba bum.

The car hit the rail on the opposite side of the road with a hard thud.

Ba bum.

Crap. We’re going over the bridge.

Ba bum.

The Whale’s nose pointed down toward the water.

Ba bum.

A jolt forward and my forehead slammed into the dashboard.

Ba bum.

The Whale flipped in the air. I’m upside down.

Ba bum.

Pain.

Ba bum.

Did my mom say good-bye when I left?

Ba bum.

Cold water rushed into the car.

Ba bum.

Is this it?

Ba bum.

I can’t breathe. Oh my God, I can’t breathe. I can’t see or breathe!

My heart quickened. It pounded. The Whale leaned on its side under the surface of the water which rushed in fast, and I couldn’t see a damn thing.

Calm, stay calm. Don’t panic. They say when you’re drowning not to panic because you use up your air faster.
Dammit, am I drowning?

I tried to get myself upright and jerked out of my seatbelt. Luckily, it gave way. I fought the latch to open the door facing up, but the pressure of the water from Black Water River held it closed, trapping me inside.

Jesus. I know this river. It’s more of a creek. It can’t be more than fifteen feet across and ten feet deep.
I pushed at the door. Opening my mouth to scream, I swallowed water.

I couldn’t see or hear Julie or Mike. My watch ticked. Or was it my heart beating?

Ba bum. Ba bum. Ba bum.

Darkness.

Silence.

Cold.

Wet.

Defying gravity.

Nothing.

The dreams came. Like a good sleep you don’t want to wake up from. I felt heavy and floaty. I wore this long white gauzy gown and the wind blew my dress and my hair like in some feminine hygiene commercial. I could breathe slowly and deeply. Completely relaxed and at peace, but I was alone.

I floated along in a white space for a while. Drifting. Breathing. Relaxing. Had I gone to a spa? After an immeasurable amount of time, others appeared. They wore white clothing, too, and they floated like me, reaching out. They opened their arms as if to welcome me to them.

I stopped and frowned. I heard no sound, and I didn’t know who these white floaty people were or why they welcomed me. They smiled, genuinely happy, and held their arms out to me. I panicked.

Where’s my mom? My family? Wait, Mike and Julie were just with me, where are they? Are those wings?
I noticed the others floating with me had white feathery wings.

“Lily,” one of them called out.

Holy hell. I’m dead.

Check Shawn out at her website:  http://www.shawnaromkey.com/

And preorder her book here:
http://www.amazon.com/Speak-Devil-Shawna-Romkey/dp/1939173191/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1362366539&sr=8-1&keywords=shawna+romkey