Rambutan Update

I forgot to give you an update on the rambutan trees. Well, they're doing great! ...although it's getting a little crowded in there. But aren't the leaves pretty?

Anyway, I moved, and now the rambutans (and the avocado in the background) live in a two-story atrium. So they can grow as much as they like! (As long as they keep it under two stories).

The Thirst Within Part 2 - Chapter 1

Hey there fans!

After I finish editing Violet (I wanted it to happen before the end of the year, but that's looking more and more unlikely the more I type this blog), the plan is to finish and publish a Thirst Within novella, a 1.5 type of thing, before finishing Part 2 - The Vampire Within.

But because that may be a little ways ahead in the future... here's a part of Chapter 1 (draft!) for your reading pleasures. All material is subjected to copyright laws, and is subjected to change. I tried to hide it because of Part 1 spoilers. But it was impossible to read - so STOP READING NOW if you don't want to know what happens!

Love it? Hate it? Tell me in the comments!

***

THE VAMPIRE WITHIN

The Thirst Within Series #2

Chapter 1 (Partial — Unpublished draft)

The vampire sits across from me with an air of tranquility that I know he does not possess. His dark hair is unkempt, making him look like a young guy that I know he is not. His words pierce my soul as he brands me with the most unwelcome declaration.

I am Charlotte.

He says I’m Charlotte, his dead vampire wife.

“Are you freaking kidding me?” I whisper, my voice breaking because I’m crying.

“No.”

I don’t want to believe him because I don’t want to be this Charlotte person. But then again, it’d be nice to believe that this ridiculous attraction I’ve felt toward him over the last day hasn’t really been my fault. That some of it belongs to him, and I’m just feeling what he feels. But I know some of it is me. Or rather, the ghost of the vampire within me.

“I don’t remember being someone else,” I say defiantly. I don’t want to be her; I refuse to. In the last six hours or so I’ve developed a completely unfounded hate for this Charlotte person. Well … not completely unfounded. I suspect (okay, I know) that my aversion stems from jealousy. I’m jealous of her. Because Corben loves her even though she’s been dead for who knows how many hundreds of years. And he doesn’t love me.

Well, according to him, I’m her.

I can’t believe I’m jealous of myself.

It’ll pass.

“I believe you,” he says, not looking at me. “It might be a blessing in disguise, not remembering. I wish it were still two days ago and I didn’t know for sure. It was much easier to pretend to live before.”

Oh … screw you! I hiss in my mind, trusting that he can’t hear me. Life was much easier without me, was it? Well, guess what, I didn’t ask you to pick me up from the goddamn airport!

Corben’s eyes darken.

Ah, shit. He can feel my surge of anger. Well, then. I stand up, fully intending to leave his living room after I say my bit.

“I’ll be gone soon, and you can go back to pretending,” I spit out venomously. I want to hurt him back. It’s my defense mechanism. “And if I ever remember my supposed past life, or if I don’t, guess what? It doesn’t matter. I already have a life here”—I’m alluding to the fact that I’m with his brother, a fact that I know bothers him; because if he really believes what he claims, then deep down he probably thinks I belong to him or something—“and regardless of what you say, even if it’s true and I was her, I’m not her anymore.”

“You are not her anymore,” Corben agrees quietly, still sitting on the couch across from me. His voice is cold, and it halts my rage.

And faster than my eyes can follow, he moves toward me in a blur—and I’m pinned in his arms. One of his hands is at my back pressing me against him; the other behind my head aligning my face with his. He looks down at me. My heart beats so fast that it terrifies me.

“If you were really her,” he continues in that icy voice, “I wouldn’t able to resist you, while having you this close to me.”

Ouch. His unfeeling manner wounds me. A sharp pain pierces my chest, but at least I’m not crumpling in his arms. I don’t move. Not because I’m afraid of him—I don’t move because if I do, I’ll wrap my arms around his head and crush my lips against his.

My heart beats rowdily, sending tremors between our chests pressed together. Letting him know exactly how much I’m failing at this resisting test thing.

Unfair, I think.

“But as you can see,” he continues, his voice frightfully calm, “we’re perfectly alright …”

Yeah, right. Perfectly alright. As if I weren’t falling apart like an unstable chemical compound. And him … I feel his restraint, the effort it takes him to maintain our current position. Play out this little show of his. The feeling is welcomed, and I close my eyes relishing in it. He wants me.

With my eyes closed, I can’t do anything but feel his hands pressed against my back and my head. And smell him. He smells like angels ought to smell. He smells like … happiness. Home. I inhale deeply and my lips part in desire.

He lets me go and my eyes fly open—and I’m able to detect a hint of unbalance as he stumbles back, his expression almost lost. My heart dances as I briefly see his eyes clouded with the passion that emanates from him. He resumes his previous position back on the couch while I just stand there, feeling an intense cold where he was touching me a moment ago. The absence of him is painful; I collapse on the couch across from his again. Everything I said—screw it. How I have a life without him and how everything will be fine once I leave his house and go back home. I have no control. I am his.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and he sounds breathless.

“No, we’re perfectly alright …” I whisper, almost sarcastically, shaking my head.

“Do you believe me now?”

Oh, not cool. It was a test.

Damn you, Corben.

I look into his eyes, not giving in so easily. His eyes are pained but determined. I detect some regret for what he just did, because he must know how toying with my feelings like that was not the gentlemanly thing to do. But now I know he just did it to prove something to me, what I kept denying. What he also denied for the longest time.

He really believes it. That his dead wife is alive and is sitting across from him. That she only looks different on the outside, but that her soul is intact inside the body of the seventeen-year-old in front of him. As if this human girl didn’t have memories of her own, a life of her own. A love of her own.

But this is wrong.

I breathe deeply to clear my head.

Even if I’m reincarnated, so what?

Corben, I can only be one person at a time. Not two. It’s just me in here. Not your wife.

His wife.

A little wisp of emotion flutters in my belly as I consider that I may have been this gorgeous man’s wife. Then I swat it angrily aside. It’s her blood talking. I’m spoken for. By his brother, no less.

“Corben,” I say softly. “I’m not saying I don’t believe you. But I’m a different person now.”

“You are who you are,” he concedes vaguely.

“And that person is me.” It sounds stupid, but I don’t really know how to express what I mean. I’m saying I’m not Charlotte—at least, not the one he knew. I can’t remember a thing. “I’m Tori.”

“Victoria,” Corben says, and my insides squirm. “Victoria Elise Green. I know.”

“Yes,” I struggle to answer. It’s a shock to hear my given name on his lips. It confirms that he’s known me longer than I’ve realized. “Born seventeen years ago, not … whenever.” I have no idea how old Charlotte was or when w. All I know is that she turned Corben, and Corben turned Thierry, and Thierry is two centuries old.

“Yes, I know,” he repeats.

I look back up at him. “I don’t remember anything different.”

“I don’t expect you to,” he says. “I don’t expect anything. This is as strange for me as it is for you.”

“No,” I argue. “This is way stranger for me. You’re saying I’m someone else. Someone else! Your dead wife! I don’t feel a thing like her.”

“I understand—”

“Plus, you already suspected. You’ve watched me my entire life! While this is all news to me.”

“You’re right, Tori. Please don’t cry.”

Shit, I’m crying again. I wipe my eyes angrily. Of course I don’t want to cry. But I can’t help it. Actually, at the moment I welcome the anger I feel. It replaces the feelings I’ve been harboring toward him that I shouldn’t be feeling.

What am I supposed to do? I wish I could forget him. I want to. But I don’t know if I can. Not right now, when I’m sitting so close to him. A vision of him pinning me to his strong chest again invades my thoughts. Except that in the vision, I stand on my tiptoes and kiss him deeply. He would respond and kiss me back. I know he would. His lips … how do they taste? They were so soft on my hand, only a few hours ago when I …

Ah! I shake my head, trying to dislodge the thought and the ensuing guilt. I hate this confusion!

My system is a mess, a product of the small—small according to Corben—amount of vampire blood that courses through my veins. Only a few hours ago I had an accident; I fell in the frigid waters of Lake Michigan, hit my head against some large boulders and got thrown around by the waves, battering my body against the rocks. Corben saved me and then healed me by feeding me his blood. His blood is actually part Charlotte’s, his maker. Allegedly the same person I used to be. A person that loved him.

And now she’s trying to get out.

“I hate this,” I bemoan.

“Do you think I want to feel this way?” he asks in a low voice.

Oh … ouch.

“Whatever,” I say, attacking him again to disguise my hurt. “At least she’s dead and not around to judge you.”

He drops his gaze to the floor between us and I register his flare of pain, but he doesn’t say anything.

I immediately regret what I said. I know he loved his Charlotte—he still does, her memory—and I shouldn’t have talked about her not being alive in such an offhand manner. I’d be hurt if someone spoke that way about my grandparents. I feel terrible.

He doesn’t reply, so I feel the need to say something just to break the awkward silence. I try to make my voice sound affectionate.

“How did she die?” I ask, taking him by surprise. While I don’t wish to continue talking about her, I am still curious. I want to know so many things. I want us to keep talking, and not leave this room.

His pause is so long that I don’t think he’s going to answer. But at length he says, “She … was killed.”

“Oh.” I chance a look at him. The pain in his eyes is so terrible that I want to comfort him. I dig my hands in the folds of the couch where I sit, planting myself firmly in place to refrain from running to him.

“She was murdered,” he clarifies, his voice small and full of ancient sorrow.

Oh, wow. Murdered.

For the first time I feel a speck of sympathy toward this mythical creature known as Charlotte. Despite the many people I’ve lost in my life, none of them have been murdered.

“Oh. I’m … so sorry. I wouldn’t know … what it’s like, to lose someone like that,” is all I can say. Inside I’m burning with questions. How? Who did it? Why?

He looks toward the fire, a faraway look in his eyes.

Okay, I don’t want to know anything else about that.

I mean, of course I want to know how she died. How I supposedly died in my past life. But he’s saying I was murdered? The thought is horrifying; I don’t exactly want to know at this moment. So I think about something else. Something I’ve been meaning to ask.

“When you said …” I begin, but stop, frowning. I don’t know how to form my question. He’s not looking at me, and I feel silly. “You said you felt when I was born … what did you feel?”

He looks back at me, and I think I see some of the pain lift from his eyes.

“I felt an invisible pull. A faint throb in my being … I can’t explain it well. It was your presence, while you were carried by your mother. When you were born, the faint throbbing suddenly spiked.”

I’m mesmerized.

“So you could feel this … throbbing … while my mother was pregnant?” I ask. “Even though you said you were in New York?”

“Yes. It got stronger as her pregnancy advanced.”

“But did you know right away what it was? That it was me … a person, I mean?”

“I recognized it.” He takes a second to continue, while a hundred new questions form in my head. His gaze darkens. “I had felt it before,” he adds.

Have I had many other lives?

“What do you mean?” I ask.

I’m already wondering if I was ever an important historical figure, and how I would feel if I found out I was a Nazi, when he shakes his head and closes his eyes.

“The first time was about five years after she died. I noticed a sort of humming one day; a quivering inside me. It got stronger as time went on. I had no idea what it was, but it felt like her.”

He takes a deep breath.

“And?” I prod.

“It lasted a few weeks … and then it stopped.”

I don’t understand, so I just look at him.

“The same thing happened seven years later. And then eight years later. Then five years later …” He pauses, and I feel the pain he emits. “Over the last two centuries I felt it come and go twenty-two times. Sometimes it would fade away after a few weeks, sometimes after a few months. It would get stronger as time went by, but eventually it would fade away. Almost as if she were here for a short while and then would leave me all over again. After a few more times, I figured out what it was.”

I think I know what, but I don’t say it.

“Miscarriages,” he says, confirming my guess.

I cringe internally. All those babies … lost because of her. Because she entered the womb somehow but didn’t succeed. Because she was trying to come back.

“So every few years?” I ask, not able to fully conceal the disgust from my voice.

“Sometimes twenty years, sometimes one. It never lasted more than a few months. Until eighteen years ago.”

My heart hammers in my chest when I realize he’s talking about me. No. I don’t want to be her. For a second I’m angry that she actually made it. Then I realize the stupidity of my thought. Another miscarriage would’ve meant I wouldn’t be here.

“Each time it was so painful. The hope, and then the silence. But last time it was different; weeks went by and I still felt it. And then months. And then you were born.”

“But you didn’t believe I was her,” I say.

“After two centuries of that fractional hope, knowing full well that I shouldn’t hope, I had imagined that Charlotte might be reborn, somehow. I had researched reincarnation but nothing had really convinced me. So I didn’t want to hope … but unfortunately, I did. Against my better judgment I had expectations. And when I saw you … it didn’t feel right. You were just a baby. You weren’t her.”

Damn. I can feel the disappointment that he’s reliving. His dreams were crushed. It hurts to know I was the source of that disillusionment.

“But yet you … you kept watching over me?” I take a defensive stance, because I’m hurt. I’m sad and angry that he experienced such a letdown when I was born, yet foolishly hopeful that he had some feelings for me; enough that he watched over me.

“Curiosity,” he says with a hint of a shrug, like that explains it.

I frown. “But you never approached me.”

“I didn’t want to interfere … to be a negative influence in your life.”

“Why watch over me, then? Why send Thierry to meet me?”

His eyes narrow as his anger flares again momentarily. “I didn’t send Thierry to meet you. He—I told him to watch over you when you moved to New Orleans. And that’s it. He’s the one who went against my wishes, and just had to interact with you!”

I wince.

So that’s what happened. Thierry sought me out; he cornered me like a beautiful predator traps its defenseless prey. He found me at the mall, he found me at the theater. He imposed his friendship on me, time and again. And I gladly welcomed it. But why did he do it? Why approach me if Corben asked him not to?

Well, maybe he just wanted to.

“So if you’re wondering why you’re sitting here talking to me,” Corben continues, “why I came into your life after seventeen years of silence, well … the answer lies with your beloved Thierry.”

His words cut me. He sounds upset. So he never really wanted to talk to me. It sounds like if it were up to him, he would’ve preferred to stay away from me, and never have to interact with me. Just remain in the sidelines of my life like a creepy stalker. And for what? Curiosity, he said.

I’m upset too.

I guess we’re more connected than I care to admit, I note briefly, before erupting at him.

“He befriended me when I needed a friend,” I bristle, defending Thierry. “Why do you say it like it’s a bad thing? So what if you didn’t want to be a part of my life, and he did? Why even watch over me if you hated me so?”

“Damn it, Tori!” he cries, holding his hands out, fingers splayed in sign of exasperation. “I didn’t hate you. I never have. On the contrary. I watched you grow up; who could hate a child? I felt a connection with you. I kept watching out for you but tried to keep my distance. Yes, I never approached you. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I’m a freaking vampire!”

Halfway through his chiding I lowered my head, and now I swallow thickly in something like shame. I can’t respond, so he continues.

“I didn’t want to interfere in your life. I hardly did. And when I had to, I made sure you never found out. Except, well …”

I look up at him.

“When your parents died.”

I gasp.

It was him.

“You!” I exclaim.

He looks at me questioningly, almost afraid of my sudden outburst.

I jump to my feet and approach him in a heartbeat, ignoring the little pain that sprouts in my chest when he flinches away from me. I bend to his eye level and put my hands on his face. He freezes at my touch, but I don’t care. The fireplace roars to our side, and I see its fire reflected in his tortured green eyes, pulling me in.

My mind dives past fractured memories of my short time in New Orleans, bypass Illinois altogether; and Nana, Grandpa, my youth, everything blurs, all the way back to that day. It finally stops, replaying the day that took my parents. My memory eye zeroes in on my savior, and it’s him; it was him.

Corben.

Happy Anniversary to WRITING!

Happy Anniversary to WRITING!

It's been a year since I hit the PUBLISH button that first time! I can't believe it*! Well, happy anniversary to writing / happy birthday to Resurgence / happy indieversary to me!

And because you guys have been great, and so patient with me, I'm going to give you the first chapter of The Thirst Within Part 2 - anniversary present! Christmas present, or end of year present, or whatever you want to call it. Coming right up!

xoxo
Johi

*I totally can believe it. I mean, it's not like it's the first time that a year passes after a certain event :p

Good News Everyone!

Violet Part 1: Margarette has a cover, and it's almost ready for publishing! This is extra good news to me because I get to go back to my series after Margarette releases.

The cover reveal will happen soon!

NaNoWriMo 2013 - Done!

I can finally blog! NaNoWriMo is over!!!
I have so much to edit and rewrite and add and cut and paste... but it feels great to have reached the 50,000 words mark.

Now I can go back to finish this Violet book that I've been working on with Mr. K LeMaire. We have a cover and everything!

As for my next book, The Thirst Within Part 2, it's coming! The beginning, the middle and the ending are all written. I just have to fill in the gaps.

Wait! No. My next book will be a novella. From The Thirst Within series. A Part 1.5 type of thing.

Thanks, NaNo!!
http://nanowrimo.org/

iPhone cases

The Thirst Within is on an iPhone case! Get yours at 

http://www.etsy.com/shop/GenReyGifts

And ask for 15% off using the coupon code:
JOHIJENKINS

Potted Rambutan Trees

And now for a little break from prequel writing and editing and the quest for majestic covers:

These are my baby rambutan trees. I'm assuming you know what a rambutan is because you must've googled something like "rambutan tree", otherwise you wouldn't have found this page (amiright).

So I plan to keep rambutan trees inside my tiny apartment in Chicago. Rambutan is tropical, you say? So is my apartment inside. But it's a tree! you say... Well, so is my avocado tree and it's chilling in the pot in the background.

I'll keep you posted on this rambutan experiment.

TTFN

Birthday Giveaway!

This week, from Monday August 19 to Sunday August 25, in honor of my birthday, I will be donating 100% of my profits of all book sales to the organization Maullidos de Esperanza (“Meows of Hope”).

Link to Resurgence: http://amzn.com/B00AUL2E4O
Link to The Thirst Within: http://amzn.com/B00C4MD7MA

Maullidos is a nonprofit organization (registry no. 320061 under Puerto Rico law) whose goal is to spay/neuter and vaccinate a large colony of abandoned and stray cats in the city of Mayaguez, PR; to control overpopulation and improve the stray cats’ life quality. They also provide foster while the cats are recovering from sterilization, and work hard to find forever homes so that the kitties don’t have to return to the streets. In the year since they’ve been working, the couple that runs this fantastic operation has rescued 70 cats, of which 39 have been adopted (spayed/neutered), and the rest are in foster waiting for their turn.

I’m a total animal lover, and this colony of cats in the general area of where I grew up, so the efforts of this organization are very close to my heart.

For more information please check out their pages:
www.facebook.com/MaullidosDeEsperanza and www.facebook.com/gatoscementerio

BONUS! Like my Facebook page (facebook.com/JohiJenkins) and you’ll be entered for a free autographed copy of The Thirst Within! 

Enter up to four times here!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Share the code here!

Cover reveal!

The Thirst Within's cover has been revamped! And with it, I'll be offering paperbacks in the next few weeks.

All other books in the series will have the same look.

http://amzn.com/B00C4MD7MA

Covers, paperbacks and newsletters

I've been working to get the covers of both Resurgence and The Thirst Within redone in preparation for... prints! I'll be offering paperbacks of both books for people who like to hold books in their hands or just like to stack their bookshelves. The ebooks will also have new covers and I'm excited to do a big reveal soon. Stay tuned! Also, I'm considering the possibility of a newsletter. Some sort of mailing list to announce new books, talk about books, or just tell bad jokes when I've got nothing else to say. Let's keep in touch! (oooh)

end of June

Hello fandom!

(I just wanted to use the word: fandom. It makes me feel awesome).

I'm currently dividing my writing time between writing The Thirst Within's prequel and editing a romance book (or books? I'm thinking of splitting it in two). Being busy makes time go by faster somehow. Today's the last day of June? wtf? That means that half the year's gone and I haven't written a second book, so I'm behind schedule. Hopefully I get to make up for it by writing two books back to back.

Anyway, it's Sunday, I just finished my coffee, and I write better under pressure anyway (at least that seemed to worked in college). Time to go. Writewritewrite.

For no reason at all, here's a picture with geese.

Book samples!

I added pages to this blog with samples of Resurgence and The Thirst Within. Take a look! The links to the pages are to the right side of the blog -->> (in the web version). In the mobile version they are in the drop-down menu which defaults to "home".

In the meantime check out this art:

by Tom Edwards at http://www.tomedwards.berta.me/

June is here! Where's my book?

I have such a huge to-do list.

I'm editing a contemporary romance, Violet, about a small-town girl living in a lonely world... (cue the drunk karaoking mob). The elusive Mr. K LeMaire is the author of this drama, and as we all know, girls and boys write very differently. So it's a challenge, but a welcome one. In the end I'll end up co-author of this seriously juicy novel. Stick around, folks...

I'm supposed to be writing the sequel to The Thirst Within, which is tilted... The Vampire Within. It's aaah so good!!

I started writing a prequel novella to The Thirst Within series, featuring Mr. Corben the Gorgeous Vampire in his human days and his uhh, can't say, sorry, spoilers.

I have to find and read a few period romances set in France (for research!) since everything I know from the year 1800 I learned from English literature. I need French literature.

I'm reading a book, Dark Light by Victoria Clapton. Very cool so far... mmm... rock stars...

I'm ignoring the bunch of books I've downloaded to my kindle that are calling me, begging me to read them.

I'm talking to a book cover artist to have some kickass covers for y'all's viewing pleasure.

I have to watch True Blood season 5 which I recently bought, finish The Vampire Diaries season 4, get around to watching the last season of Smallville which has been in my to-watch list for like... two years? Three?

Real life adult stuff, I need to find a larger apartment / townhouse.

I keep looking at this kitty and can't stop looking.

I need two of me! (Hey now, don't get any ideas). That, or I need to figure out how to not require sleep, or how to make money without actually needing my real life job.

KITTIES SAVE ME.

I haven't been writing because...

I haven't been writing because I'm on vacation. I'm writing this blog from Paris! I'm not going to bore you with the details, don't worry.

Looking through my pictures this is one that I chose for this blog: Lock your love at the lovers' bridge, throw away the key. The Seine river below will keep your love forever.

The Thirst is FREE! 4/24 through 4/28

What's better than a free ebook? A free ebook that you read and love! Actually, a lot of other things are better than a free ebook, like puppies, cakes, finding money in last winter's coat...

But free ebooks are definitely awesome. My second novel is free to download in the Kindle through Sunday, April 28.

Get your free copy!

http://www.amazon.com/The-Thirst-Within-ebook/dp/B00C4MD7MA

Goodreads (and stainless steel?)

I'm on Goodreads! I should have said that before. I'm meeting new people and falling in love with new books. Great site for book lovers! My profile is http://www.goodreads.com/johijenkins

And because I can't seem to post without adding a picture, here's a picture of my hand (why not??) 

Jewelry by http://mikanyah.com/

OMG Books

I never did come back and post that link did I? It's 

http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00C4MD7MA

It makes me feel all warm and glowy inside that I've got two books (BOOKS!) out there. It's not like I'm going to retire anytime soon because I'm a Stephenie Meyer, no. But just publishing feels awesome. Getting that story off my brain. The Thirst Within is only the first book out of who knows (it's a saga) and I already have a very unpolished chapter in the sequel.

But I'm also editing a book that will be called Violet. There are no vampires in it, supernatural creatures or superpowers for that matter. But it's a good romance book and I'm hoping to publish it sometime this year.

Lastly I leave you with this picture of the art in The Thirst Within's title: it's a little hard to see but there's calligraphy in it, written by me! 'Cause I do that.

Just published: The Thirst Within Book 1

It's done! The Thirst Within, the first book in my new series about vampires, is uploaded and awaiting publication on Amazon.com.

Here's the cover:

Thanks to the very talented K.LeMaire for his work on the cover!

I finished at little over 80K words, of which 50K I wrote in November for NaNoWriMo. 80K is a good length in my humble opinion. My first book Resurgence has 90K. (By comparison, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone has 77K words, and Twilight has 119K, according to the Internet).

I decided to enroll in KDP Select, which basically keeps me from publishing that book in other sites, such as Barnes and Noble, in exchange of certain benefits from Amazon. Since the bulk of my sales is in Amazon, I figured it wouldn't kill me to enroll. It's not permanent, too, so after six months, I think, I can publish in other sites. I'll tell you aall about it later...

If you own a Nook or other e-reader and would like a copy of The Thirst Within, email me at johi.jenkins at gmail.com for options. Remember the Kindle app is free and available for your phones and tablets an alternative to owning a Kindle.


Here's the blurb about The Thirst Within:

Seventeen-year-old Tori Green is an orphan—again. She was raised by her grandparents after an accident claimed the lives of her parents when she was a child. But after her last surviving grandparent passes away, Tori must move across the country to a new family that doesn't seem to care about her.

In a new city full of new faces and new experiences, Tori finds solace in her new friend, Thierry, for whom she falls head over heels despite her many reserves towards the handsome stranger. Thierry appears to genuinely care about Tori, until his brother shows up hinting towards a relationship that can never be.

What is Thierry's secret that keeps him away from Tori?

The Thirst Within is tailored for a young adult audience and contains language, mild violence, and sexual situations, not recommended for readers under the age of 17.

***

What's the secret? Oh, can you guess?? Don't laugh at me... I hate writing blurbs. It's a lot harder than it should be.

Anyway, keep you guys posted!

What! It's March?

I'm writing another book. I wanted to finish in February, and it's already March. What went wrong?

I'll tell you what.

I blame my full-time job plus my recent addiction to a certain vampire show (or "research!" as I like to call it). Plus me, a little bit. Ok, a lot. Why can't I finish writing?? I wrote the end already and everything... I just have to make sure it flows. I need to... get out of here before this storm hits.

No, not a metaphorical storm. A real one. I'm downtown Chicago, and I need to get going pronto, because there's a storm going on and the buses will be delayed.

Adios!

Ps- This is what they mean by "gray" when they say gray and dreary.

Writing against my will

Some days I have to force myself to sit at my desk and write. I know how the story that I'm writing ends, and where I am now, but sometimes it's just hard to figure out what's in between. It doesn't help that I write in the evenings and weekends only since I have a regular job. Or that I have a Link to the Past (possibly my favorite Zelda) downloaded in the wii.

Strangely, if I'm AT work and have nothing better to do all I can think of is my story. I write down plot points and ideas in calc sheets. But then I get home and I'm tired. I want to watch a movie or just read someone else's book.

But I open the document and force myself to get to it. Sometimes I write something crappy that I have to delete later, but sometimes I discover something brilliant! Just put the pen to the paper... fingers to the keyboard, whatever... and see what happens. If I do something awesome today, I'll write about it in my blog next.

ttfn

New Year and Kittens

It's been almost a month since I last blogged. And then my last post was only to announce that I published Resurgence. Since then, I've been busy celebrating the New Year (yeah right... that one day), writing, reading a few books (I read a mystery! So out of my comfort zone), discovered an awesome Chinese restaurant, got a cold, and adopted two kittens.

Kitties! Well, technically I don't have them. I live in a no-pet building. To those of you fortunate enough to not know what horrible thing that is, it's a building where the rules don't allow residents to own pets. Which means I can't have cats. Which means... my cats live with my mom.

Look! He's so sad. He wants to live with me.

"Silly no-pet buildings"

This year I've set myself the goal to write four more books, and hopefully publish at least two of them. My New Year's resolution for 2012 was to finish Resurgence and get it published... which I did... with two whole days to go. Because I like to live on the edge like that.

So for 2013 instead of sticking to something doable I'm going to go for four. Why not? If I don't finish, I'll comfort myself by eating ice cream. Win-win.