A little Sunday Tease.

An undedit peek into a new project I am working on. Enjoy!

“Do you have a curfew?” Hart asked her, referring to her phone.

They held each other’s gaze. She always wanted to win with him. Because he was playful and when he spoke to her it was as if he enjoyed it.

“Maybe not a curfew but a boyfriend,” she informed him. As if he didn’t already know that little insight.

Hart fought back the smirk but failed. It was a telling kind.

“You’re awful,” she told him. She shook her head at him and took another bite of ice cream. “I’m beginning to believe you’re a trouble maker.”

Hart feigned innocence. “I just don’t know what you see in him.”

“And rude, you’re really rude,” she pointed her spoon at him, scolding him playfully. “I’ll have you know I have known him since elementary school.” As if that made it any better.

“Is that a good thing?” Hart surveyed his hand for ice cream or caramel. He balled his napkin and toyed with the paper between his fingers.

“It’s comfortable. It’s something I’ve always known,” she pushed away the dessert. Admitting such a thing seemed pitiful.

“What about you?” She said recovering. She hated when she started to doubt herself because it pushed her back into sadness. “Have you ever been in love?”

Hart’s fingers stopped toying with the napkin. He raised an eyebrow, the idea she was asking him about love was a bit out of the norm for her. “It’s just a feeling like everything else.”

Elle’s phone vibrated. She hit ignore and leaned in. “Of course it’s a feeling. One of the best ones they say.” Than how come she had never felt it she wondered.

Yes she loved Pauly, but it wasn’t that heart stopping love like in the movies. But like many girls she knew and grew up with it didn’t matter. They all were destined to go down the same road as their parent’s. They were going to marry the first boy from high school they felt feelings for. The boy that grew up in the same town, it was all anyone around her ever did. And it made sense, it was safe. It kept things easy and simple.

“I have to disagree.” Hart shook his head. “The best feelings are moments. That moment when you see that girl, you know you’re dying to kiss her, when you’re so fixated on her mouth, that you just want to grab her, to feel it against yours.”

Elle swallowed. Her heart thudded in her chest reminding her just how uncomfortable she had become sitting there with Hart. She didn’t know what to say.

“The first time you touch her it’s better than love,” he leaned back in the booth. “Sorry, you asked. I was just being honest.”

“Maybe it’s so great because that’s what love is. Intense feelings.” She looked away feeling a bit bashful. “Maybe there’s only one person that makes you feel that way when you touch them because you’re in love with them. Maybe that’s how you know you’re in love.”

She wasn’t sure if Hart believed her theory.

“If love was so real people wouldn’t treat each other the way that they do,” he told her. His attention left her as soon as the diner door opened and the bell sounded. 

Thirsty Thursday: Drunk Uncle editon

It's Thursday, the day I do some unedited rants about whatever I like. I hope someone is familiar with the above image. It's drunk uncle and he is great at his drunken rants. So here goes, once a week I will rant, emptying out my mind and soul about whatever I feel like. So enjoy!

Why is writing so easy to sit and daydream about, but when I sit down to actually do it I feel like I'm doing rocket science? How come it all sounds so good in my mind, but when its there on paper I am just confused on what it was I was even trying to say most times?

Names are so hard to come up with, I pick and choose my character's name's like I am naming my real children. Sometimes I just hate my character and no matter what I do I can never be nice to them. That leads to another thing, someone always has to die. If not die in my book someone has to go through hell and back several hundred times.

Why are people so into Vampires? This includes me. I swore I'd never fall for the trend, but its so deliciously evil that I can't take my eyes off of shows like Vampire Diaries and True Blood. 

Some days I sit and try to fathom a world where we didn't love the forbidden so much. And than I come to the realization that it would suck.

Why are some books loved so much and some so little? Why do I find myself pining over a really good read like its going out of style? Am I crazy?

Why do I strive to make people cry when I write?

Is it okay to dream about your book characters as if they were real? Because I did that just a few nights ago and it was so strange yet cool.

Is there even a point to my blog? I wonder who I am really reaching all the time. But even if I didn't reach anyone I would still write it, because I am forever that angst riddled teen that loves curling up and bleeding her emotions all over the pages.

Why does sadness make me feel happy when I write? Is it the reality that feels good? Or is it the rebellion that takes over?

That's all of my mindless rants for now. I have my baby sleeping in my lap and a book to write. Oh! Don't forget to enter the giveaway, I love seeing more and more entries and I love giving away free stuff for all you awesome people!

If you have any rants of your own you would like to share I would love to read them! Have a good night!

Ink Bundle Giveaway!!!!!

Want to read the Ink series? Haven't read the first? Enter the giveaway to get all three in the series! Tell your friends, tell the world, anyone who enjoys a good paranormal romance. Have fun!

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Sunday Sample

I have decided to designate Sunday for excerpts from the books that I am working on. So if your curious about what I am writing here is a sneak peek. Enjoy and always feel free to let me know what you think here on the blog, twitter, Facebook or my new website.

The project I am currently working on is a story about a girl sent to rehab. She is going through a lot and has lost her best friend. Without giving away a bunch I will share that she is the cause of her best friends death. The book is an adult romance. And so far I am really liking where it is going. I hope everyone else does as well.

So here you go:

She stood in front of him her heart pounding in her chest. She didn't know why the thought of touching him was making her so tense, but it was.

“I can’t promise anything. And you can’t sue me,” she said, staring at his dark head of hair. The kind of hair that belonged to someone famous, the kind of hair you slipped your fingers through and tugged here and there.

She dropped her spray bottle.

“Somebody’s clumsy today,” Hart said a big grin on his face. His dark eyebrows rose in amusement, he kept his eyes on her as she tried to convince herself to touch him.

“I’m fine. Let’s get this over with.” She came a bit closer, he smelled amazing. And the way he was staring at her with those eyes, those brilliant eyes of blue, rimmed with dark lashes.

She ran her fingers through the front of his hair, brushing it back on his head. “What do you want?”

Hart was silent.

Elle tilted her head to the side. “Hello?”

“Sorry.” He blinked. “Do whatever you want to me. I’m sure you’ll make me look great.”

Elle bit her lip, spraying him with the spray bottle. She started to work, combing and cutting. Trying to remember everything that she had learned in hopes she didn't butcher him.

“Got any plans tonight?” Hart asked, he stayed still, letting her try her best. 

“I plan on going home and eating some of my mom’s famous spaghetti and meatballs and then probably going to bed,” she told him. She spun the chair.

“Sounds like a blast,” he said. “You’re never going to give in are you?”

“Probably not.” She looked over his hair, taking him by the chin to turn him the way she needed to get a better look. The scruff on his chin tickled her finger tips, his teeth grazed his bottom lip drawing her eyes to his mouth. He had an amazing set of lips.

“For once just be honest. Am I just not the kind of person you want to be associated with? Is it the rehab thing?” he asked.

Elle shook her head quickly. “No. Hart, it has nothing to do with that, it’s just me. I can’t hang out with you. It’s not a good idea.”

She was with Pauly and in a bad place in her life. She wasn't the girl to be anyone’s friend. She had a hard time being friends with the ones in her life already.

He wasn't saying anything. And now she felt even worse.

“Alright, I’ll be honest. I’m not doing okay. I've never been okay and all I want to do is make it through without another emotional breakdown. I can’t add anything to my life because I’m afraid it will crumble. And the idea of going back to that place I was in scares the shit out of me,” she said.

She dropped her scissors and comb on her station. “Anyways, I think you’re good to go.”

Hart took the mirror she was offering, but didn't look in it. “Looks great.”

“You didn't even look,” she said.

“I don’t care about my hair.”

She rolled her eyes undoing the collar of the cape. “Don’t do that, don’t worry about me. You did the same thing a long time ago.”

“Someone needs to worry about you. One time, just come hang out with me. And after that I’ll leave you alone,” he said. “If I make your life worse than it already is I’ll never bother you again.”

“Why are you so insistent on doing this?” She shook her head. “I’m a mess; you know this better than anyone.”

“So am I,” he insisted. “One time, come be a mess with me.”

“Fine,” she tossed the cape on her station. “One time. You’ll see how much of a mess I am and you’ll quickly go running for the hills.”

She hoped she didn't regret the choice she made. Because making choices was the hardest thing anymore.

Have a great Sunday!!

Saturday Surprise!

Saturday Sneak Peek


My eyes opened as soon as I heard him come through the door. He was home, but I quickly shut them and stayed warm nestled underneath Moms knitted Afghan. Dad set his keys down on the dining room table and settled into his favorite spot.
“Good your home,” Austin said from the recliner. He always woke up when Dad was getting home from a late shift. I swore any other time he slept like a rock.
Dad wasn’t one to discuss his career with me. I was a girl, I was extra sensitive to the ways of the world, as he put it. Austin was a grown man. He could handle hearing about all the gore.
“John Moore’s fixing that old barn finally, I hear he’s buying more horses,” Dad said.
“What happened out there?” Austin asked, if Dad was at the Moore’s it meant one of two things. John was dead or someone nearby was.
Dad was silent for a couple seconds. I opened my eyes just the slightest. Dad stroked the stubble on his chin. His sleek fingers came to a stop right before he began talking.
“It was the weirdest thing. We got out to the address, it was the house across the street from the Moore’s. The only thing I noticed was blood and a broken window.” Dad grabbed for the remote.
I squeezed my eyes shut staying still. No body. That was unheard of. I wondered what Dad thought about it.
“What about the neighbors,” Austin asked. “You guys are by the book. You had to have gone door to door to figure it out right?”
Dad cleared his throat. “Of course, but at any rate, it made my night shorter. Another dead body would have kept me up for days trying to find the suspect behind it.”
I scratched my nose, unable to keep still any longer.
“What are you doing listening?” Dad snapped. I sat up, snagging my pillow off the couch. I rolled my eyes heading for the stairs.
“I wouldn’t have to eavesdrop if you ever told me anything about what goes on around here,” I grumbled.
“Raven, some things are better left unknown. What good would it do for you to know how ugly this world is?” Dad asked. He said the same thing every time I tried to be included in his life.
“Being naïve gets a girl nowhere either. It gets them in trouble. That's what Mom used to say,” I stuck out my chin, giving dad a good stare and headed for the stairs.
I hit the light and crawled under the covers, staring at the moon as it beamed through my curtains, illuminating everything in its path. I loved the soft glow it made. It reminded me when I was little, when my Mom and I would sit on the porch and watch the fireflies at night. Her soft hair always tickled my shoulders when she hugged me. She smelled like flowers and cinnamon. It was the only memory I really had of her.
Mom was always trying to instill wisdom in me even when I was a little girl. Even before some of the rules applied, before I even knew any of it would mean anything to me. Now it all meant something.
I closed my eyes; the soft sounds outside easily lulled me to sleep.

Enjoy the weekend!

We all should marry a vampire.

Why are we drawn to the dark side? Why do we love books so much?

How many of us in real life would want our boyfriend slipping through our window in the middle of the night like Edward Cullen? How many of us wish we were Bella Swan or Elena Gilbert?

How many girls would really like to know that their boyfriend is running around feasting on the blood of humans? Or that they would prefer to rip us limb to limb then love us.

Why is Eric Northman such a hot commodity in True Blood that he makes you want to lose all sense of reality and throw caution to the wind?

Being a writer of paranormal romance and young adult books I get it. I also read both genre 99% of the time.

I am afraid of the unknown in my real life, but to read about it, well, it’s almost soothing and exciting.

There’s Edward Cullen, Damon Salvatore, Bill Compton, and those are just the angry brooding vampires. But be it through reading the stories or watching the TV shows and movies you can’t help falling in love.

I mean admit it; would we even care if they were sweet and nice and doing all the right things? No.

With so much going on in the lives of woman my age it’s easy to lose yourself in a good story about the paranormal. About vampires or fallen angels and for me it’s because it’s my internal vacation from so many things in the world that just suck some times.

Reading a story where I can run away from all my worries and have a thrill, grow a crush and when I close the book or shut off my kindle everything in my own world is still intact and right where I left it, that is comforting.

Maybe some of us don’t think we will ever have anything exciting to talk about or live through. Some of us might even be too afraid to admit we want that. Whatever the reason may be we deserve to have enjoyment on the day to day.

Fictional characters are that cupcake we can’t eat because we are watching our calories. They are that wild night on the town where we danced until our feet blistered—only we never did because secretly we are too shy to do so. They say and speak the words we only wished we were brave enough to speak ourselves.

It might be fiction, but there is a lot about reading a good book with a dark character that speaks the truth.

In books unlike real life the kid that gets bullied could be the coolest kid out there. You see that people know how to be kind to one another; you see that people know how to have fun; you see that not everything is as bad as we think in books.

What could be better than that?