Strap yourselves in, my friends–this is going to be a long but exhilarating ride. We will traverse through the minds of the ten lovely authors who have contributed to this anthology. From the titles alone, I can see that their styles and topics are very different one from the other. However, they all have one goal in common–to send you, the reader, over the edge into their own special brands of darkness.
In their own words:
Synopsis: Zombies and vampires and ghosts….oh, my! From fae assassins to subjugating the dead, Strange and Lovely is a collection of short stories that seamlessly blends spine-tingling chills and swoon-worthy romance. This young adult paranormal anthology of supernatural creatures from ten talented authors serves up short stories with heart-stopping storytelling that will haunt you long after you’ve put it down. Open the pages and discover worlds colliding and struggles for life and love. You’ll find a tale of a young incubus desperately fighting his nature (and diet) alongside Ashley who has a choice—run from the vampires who will stop at nothing to kill her, or become one of them. Dipping deep into romance you’ll find enchanting assassins too beautiful and deadly, and a touching tangle of a love story between an angel and a mermaid both struggling to make their love last. This book will be sure to make you believe that even in the darkest of nights love can find a way. If you love tales of paranormal romance or supernatural thrills but can’t decide which ghostly or otherworldly creature to focus on, this is the perfect book for you. Best-selling authors such as Jenni James, Amber Argyle, Stephanie Fowers, and Cindy M. Hogan craft thrilling new stories filled with engaging characters, while others, like Christine Fonseca, Jennifer Griffith, C. J. Anaya, Jennifer Bryce, M. Leigh Marrott, and Rebecca Gage, explode off the page with unique takes on familiar supernatural favorites. Whether humorous, suspenseful, or romantic, the stories in Strange and Lovely will leave you feeling wickedly entertained. Buy Link: http://amzn.to/Zbf0zq
We enter at Book 1, “Huntress”, written by Amber Argyle.
Ashley has been given a choice—run from the vampires who will stop at nothing to kill her, or become one of them.
But it doesn’t take Ashley long to figure out there are much darker and deadlier forces at play than mere vampires, and more than just Ashley’s life is at stake. All hell is about to break loose, literally.
Oooh, sounds like a good start! Peeking a little further in, we read:
Word to the wise: Don’t read this past your bedtime! ******** Darkness. Ashley couldn’t remember a time when she’d been in such total and complete darkness. In the city, there was always light. She opened her eyes wider. It didn’t help. Turning into the shower spray, she finished rinsing the rest of the conditioner from her hair. She kept waiting for the lights to come back on. They didn’t. “This company retreat is turning into a disaster,” she mumbled. “A day in the mountains!” her boss had said. “Enjoying the solitude and colors of fall!” Instead, Ashley had been stuck in a conference room for ten hours. Turning the water off, she jerked the shower curtain back and felt around for the towel she’d set on top of the toilet. She rubbed the rough terry cloth across her face. Without the sound of the water, she heard something. Unconsciously pressing the towel against her chest she listened. Were those screams? She padded off of the cold bathroom tile and onto the carpet of her room, hoping some light would filter in from the open window. It didn’t. She grabbed the first piece of clothing her hand touched, a white button up shirt she’d worn to the meeting today. Without bothering to dry off, she yanked it on and shoved the buttons through the holes, not really caring if she got them right or not. The shirt clung to her wet skin as she hiked a pair of jeans over her damp hips. Screams were echoing up and down the hall now. Not ‘you just scared me’ kind of screams, but the terrified, ‘please don’t kill’ me kind of screams. Ashley jerked the hotel phone out of its cradle. Dead. She stumbled around, trying to remember where her cell phone was. “Ashley!” a man’s voice yelled through her door. “We have to get out of here! Ashley!” Josh. The man she’d been dating under her boss’s nose for months. Ashley ran for the door, but her shin smacked into the dresser. Clutching her leg and mouthing silent curses, she hobbled forward. She froze when something thudded against her door. A mangled scream gurgled to silence. She froze, too terrified to move or breathe.
Wow! I’m hooked!
AAaaand we’re walking…
Straight into Book 2, “My Fair Assassin”, by C.J. Anaya. And what, pray tell, is this one about?
Recently emancipated Crysta doesn’t expect a man to break into her house and threaten her life. But how can this handsome assassin kill her when he is clearly meant to love her?
Now there’s a twist! Let’s have a look at the story:
Having someone tell you they’ve come to end your pathetic existence is probably an uncommon occurrence. I can’t imagine that anyone intent on murder would have the decency to pause long enough to look their victim in the eye, state their mission and purpose, and with very little feeling, explain that the end result of their victim’s death will benefit an entire race. Then again, what do I know? There’s always the slim chance that plenty of killers are far more civil seconds before committing such a depraved act, but how would any of us ever be privy to those morbid details when the victims never live to share said details? I knew I’d never live long enough to share mine. The well-muscled warrior standing several feet in front of me had made that abundantly clear. I studied him intently, deciding it would be best to memorize every inch of him in case I managed to escape and succeeded in describing my would-be assassin to the local authorities. Right! My need to drink in his image had absolutely nothing to do with his six-foot frame, broad shoulders, sharp, chiseled features, and flawless, crystal-blue orbs framed by a sturdy brow. Weren’t murderers supposed to be ugly, unkempt psychos? This guy was a carbon copy of most of the Abercrombie models I lived to drool over. He had an otherworldly look and feel to him, and his clothing appeared to be made out of some kind of forest-green leather. His hands were gloved up to his knuckles, and his skin let off a golden, florescent glow. I might have attributed his all-too-perfect tan to the San Diego weather, but I doubted other men in the vicinity were capable of making their skin glitter slightly whenever the sun’s rays kissed them. I didn’t think someone as imposing as this guy would have spent time throwing gold body glitter all over himself, but I couldn’t figure out what else he’d done to get his skin to shimmer like that. He looked like a warm summer evening, and smelled like the earth after a spring rain. His hair was shoulder-length, shiny, and lightning white. Not the kind of graying white you might find on your local senior citizen, but the kind that looks like heaven. His movements as he studied me and my dingy apartment were stiff and watchful. His expression was that of guarded curiosity, and when my cat, Nala, made a small whining noise from my bedroom down the hall, his stance came to attention and his arm muscles went taut as he withdrew a small dagger from a sheath at his waist.
Oh, mercy me! Yes, I can see where emotions would be a little mixed for our protagonist…
Moving down the line, we come to Book 3, “School Spirit”, by Jennifer Griffith. I think I have an idea what this one is about:
Basketball star Luke stomped all over cheerleader Hailey’s heart, but she still has to cheer for him. When a mysterious hot guy in a loin cloth appears on the basketball court and protects Luke from getting fouled, and nobody else notices or cares, Hailey takes matters into her own hands—and finds she might be having a supernatural encounter with a “school spirit.”
Ohhh, you had me at “loin cloth”. Quick–get the snippet up here!
Referees’ whistles pierced the air of the gym. Hailey lifted her orange pom-poms to protect her ears as the team’s center went down. The crowd screamed in horror. Poor Luke! Not again. Oh, gosh. She moved the pom-poms from her ears to her eyes. Is he bleeding this time? She peeked an eye out. Sure enough, number fifteen lay bleeding on the wood floor, his teammates in their black and orange basketball shorts taking their huddle a step back in respect for the injured. Bitsy popped her gum beside Hailey. She didn’t bother to whisper. “That guy is the klutziest athlete in the history of the sport. It’s almost hard to cheer for him. We might distract him, make him fall and lose his basketball scholarship.” Hailey hushed her friend. “The scout might be here again this week.” “Let’s hope not. For Luke’s sake.” Luke hobbled to his feet, and Hailey spun around to lead the pep club in a rallying cheer for the fallen hero. “Go get ’em, tiger! Go get ’em, tiger!” It was their standard for an injury. There were cheers for the free-throw line, cheers for when the guys came on the floor, cheers for when they were ahead, cheers for when they were behind. And Hailey, as captain, kept track of the game and figured out when to make everyone yell which one. If only she didn’t have to cheer for Luke. He wasn’t just a klutz in the ballgame (where he at least had other mad skills.) He was a klutz elsewhere, too. Especially when it came to Hailey’s heart. He’d stomped on it like a gawky buffalo in size fourteen Nikes. So when he got an elbow to the nose from another player a minute ago, that was when she wanted to cheer. Not when he got up and resumed his position as center in the game. “What I can’t believe is how he didn’t end up with a broken nose.” Bitsy shouted over the crowd when they finished a pyramid cheer. “I could hear the crack when Macias gouged his face. That should’ve been a trip to the hospital, not a wad of gauze in the nostril.” Bitsy was right. Hailey had seen Luke take the hit from Macias—a guy on their own Tilbury Tigers team. It should have been more damaging than it was. The forward was coming at him full force. But there’d been something odd. Macias’s elbow had made contact, crunched Luke’s face, but then Macias had chugged backward all of a sudden. Almost like he was pushed. Something about it bugged her.
I like the various characters in this story–you can see their personalities developing just in this one short snippet.
Next we have Book 4, “The Descension”, by Cindy M Hogan. Definitely sounds like a story that deflects light.
The Darken and the Celestine have been battling for supremacy since the dawn of time—and now, the Darken believe they have in their grasp a power that will win the war. Darken Lord Invidia will stop at nothing to turn an Untouchable to the Dark and claim that power. But two regular mortals stand in his way.
Go, Mortals! Oh–sorry. Couldn’t help myself.
Here’s a look at the story:
“The Descension is at hand,” First Darken Lord Superbia called out as he paced the rock floor before his six most loyal immortal followers. “Almost six thousand years ago, when I created this council, we dreamed of this day. Our numbers, steadily increasing, are finally at the tipping point. Soon, they that be with us will be more than they that be with them.” He cackled. “Finally. Our master will be well pleased.”
“Here! Here!” Darken Lord Invidia called out, hitting fisted hands onto the stone table. The others joined him, and the cave-like room boomed with shouts of excitement.
Darken Lord Superbia held his hands above his head, calling them to settle down. “We will finally be able to uncover, track down, and kill our greatest enemies, the Celestine. It sends waves of pleasure through me. Who will be the Chosen One? Who will be given the right to the Celestine Glimpses? Will it be you, Lord Ira? Or you, Lord Acedia?”
Invidia raised an eyebrow as the First Lord’s eyes passed over him without so much as a pause. He was a much better choice than Ira, Lord over wrath, or Acedia, over sloth. Envy was his realm, and he did more with that one vice than Ira and Acedia put together. He flicked his eyes to his leader and scowled. Sweat pooled in his fisted hands at the thought of anyone besides himself getting the honor of the Glimpses.
This story’s right up my alley. I can almost smell the stink of brimstone…
Moving on…Book 5, with the uniquely interesting title of “The Crazies Got Me”. Sounds like my last family reunion.
This one is by Rebecca Gage.
Beatrice is a Watcher, someone who can see the supernatural, who keeps an eye on the paranormal in Arizona. Too bad her sister had to go to college and now Bea is stuck at home without a partner to go Watching. When Bea’s patience and sanity evaporate in the heat, Bea escapes the house only to find herself trapped and face to face with the deadliest–and hungriest–supernatural creature.
So–she HAS met my family–ha!!
This is another one that really gets my interest. Let’s delve further, shall we?
I grabbed my phone and checked the weather. Ugh. Still 98 degrees? Didn’t matter. I’d walk across the desert barefoot if it meant escaping the house. Phone. Keys. Water bottle. Quick, Bea. You don’t have much time to think about this. The thing about having a seer for a mom was that you had to be spontaneous. I’d once spent a whole month planning a party at my house when my mother was out of town. It was the thing to do when your parents left, right? Just when the party was getting started, the police showed up saying that the owner of the house had called in a noise ordinance complaint. At her own house. The party wasn’t even close to reaching the daily noise level in the school cafeteria. The police also informed me that my mother, who had called in, had said that if I didn’t get the party cleared out within 30 minutes, she’d call again to report trespassing. Party over. I acted peeved at the party breakup, but I was secretly glad. The party size had swelled and total strangers were waltzing through the front door. My two takeaways: don’t text, “Party at my house. No parents” to your entire phonebook, and “Be spontaneous.” Or, Bea spontaneous. I allowed myself a smirk. Ha! I crack myself up. Time to see what was happening tonight. I strode over to the window then wrenched it open. Hot air blasted my face, slicking my skin with instant perspiration. I forced a smile and tried to dismiss the heat. Tonight it wasn’t oppressive. Tonight it meant freedom. The air hung heavy and the cicadas buzzed frantically. The full moon washed the desert a pale blue. The perfect night for watching. My night for watching. I inhaled dusty air then slowly exhaled while humming. The song tumbled over itself, swelling, begging for release. As my song faded, the spell rippled outward like silver flooding the desert. I held my breath, waiting. C’mon Scoprio spell. Scopri something for me. I didn’t have to wait long. As the spell reached the abandoned houses, it flared brown. Gnomes. Not fun and not good news for future homeowners, if they would ever finish the houses. Gnomes were really hard to get rid of. And they smelled like stale cheese. The spell continued rippling outward. Blue flared near some cacti outside the housing development. Sand sprites. As if sensing my spell, a miniature dust devil swirled then died. I smiled. Did sand sprites cause dust storms or did dust storms bring the sprites? If mother’s prediction was correct, there would be droves of them soon. Nothing flared pink. My tiny hope died. No vampires tonight. Not like I was surprised. Vampires in outer Phoenix? Please. I gripped the window sill tighter, ignoring the heat burning my fingertips. I continued to watch the song. By now, the song had traveled far beyond the neighborhood and was racing across the open desert. C’mon, just something. Anything. I’ve got to send in a good report this month. No one is going to care about a report on gnomes and sand sprites. I sighed. My last report had been just that. The comments on the top of my returned paperwork had read “Ms. Revelare, The Watchers are a group dedicated to observing and reporting paranormal activity. While gnomes sand sprites do fall under that category, unless they are stringing someone up the nearest cactus, please only report on something worth our time. Sincerely, Deborah Bridge.” The song skimmed far across the desert. Maybe I wasn’t going watching after all. I sighed. What a total bust. Guess I’d better resign myself to languishing away and having my dead body eaten by wolves. I started to turn away when something flared black in the distance, then vanished. That had never happened before. I sang again, squinting my eyes to be sure. Watching closely, I saw that the song didn’t flare black. It flared with emptiness. Hungry emptiness. Suddenly I felt cold despite the heat. I had to see what was out there. My heart drummed in my ears. I’d never gone so far to watch anything, especially something like this. What could be out there? I shoved my phone in my pocket then slammed the window shut and sprinted to the garage. Thankfully, being the only child home meant I got sole possession of the car. I smiled as I jammed the keys into the ignition and the car roared to life. I tore out of the driveway. “Yeehaw,” I screamed. The crazy was on.
Someone distract me, please!
What’s that? Oh, right–Book 6, “Mind Warp”, written by Jennie James. (And thank you.)
A paranormal reality of ghosts, defying the underworld, and nightmares… a snippet of what’s to come next in the Jenni James’ collection.
Well, alrighty then–let’s have a look:
He winked. “I’ve got skills you’ll never fully understand.”
“You’re one intense mind warp. That’s for sure.”
Chuckling he walked closer to me. “I don’t know, you’re pretty much an enigma yourself.”
“Oh yeah.” Somehow his charming grin was starting to calm my frazzled mind. He took another step. “I’ve been fascinated by you for months now.”
I held a hand out, not quite touching his chest. Truth be told I was sort of afraid to touch him. Would I go right through his body? “Look. You’re super cute. But, I need answers. A lot of answers. Everything in my life is a huge jumble right now and I’m not sure what to make of this mess.”
“I promise that tomorrow you will get every answer you could have imagined.”
“Tomorrow”, eh? Cute guys seem to get away with that a lot…and he’s a mind warp to boot. I’d take this one carefully…
Book 7, “Dark Night” by Christine Fonseca, coming right up!
Seeing demons and angels was never what he wanted. Protecting humanity from dark forces was never his goal. Sometimes you don’t get what you want. Sometimes you get so much more. Dark Night, a new Requiem short and the beginnings of a new series by Christine Fonseca
That blurb is such a tease! I really want to know more!
The train to Manhattan is crowded as tourists and residents escape the frigid cold, unexpected this time of year. I stare straight ahead, barely aware of the people around me. Part of me realizes my detachment is risky. I’m walking with the demons now, no longer on my quiet little island, behind my tall walls, hidden away from the world. I don’t care. I just want to find Lorelei and Ellie and get them home. Keep them safe.
The thoughts solicit an old anger. Why are we destined to protect humanity? Why must we know about the monsters? Why do dark forces continually hunt us? The questions repeat and expand, until nothing but unanswered words fill my mind.
I don’t notice the train pull to a stop in between train stations, or the demons that crawl along the glass, unseen by human eyes. Lost to myself, I see nothing until a cry forces my attention.
Oh boy–whatever train that is, I think I’ll not get on it. But the book? Oh yeah! Bring it on!
Book 8 is entitled “My Big Hairy Romance”, and it’s written by Jennifer Bryce. Something tells me she hasn’t written about the mating practices of muskrats…
What is smelly, rocks the forest, and is hairy all over? Romance of course! They say love comes when you least expect it. Well Hannah didn’t expect to find it in the middle of the forest, and to top it all off falling hard for the preppy hunk Jake.
Whaddaya want to bet ol’ Jake is more than just a studmuffin?
Whatever was in the concealment of the dark foliage followed Jake and Hannah step for step. Although she was a bit nervous about the creature in the forest a few feet away, she did her best to hide it. Grandpa always said that predators could smell fear and it was best not to run and give them a chase. So she did what Grandpa would do—she sang. But the only song that she could think of was “I’m All Out of Love”, because that was what Dad sang at the top of his lungs when he drove down the road because the Air Supply tape was permanently stuck into the deck of his old Chevy. “Are you singing Air Supply?” Jake whispered. “Yeah, I hear the big guy of the forest likes the oldies.” That was enough incentive for Jake to join in and sing along.
Oh this sounds rockin’ GOOD! What a scene this summons up for me…love it!
Getting close to the last, we arrive at Book 9, another fascinating title–“Broken Tales and Mermaid Wings”, by Stephanie Fowers.
When a fish and bird fall in love, where will they live? A mermaid and an angel are about to find out in this romantic tale of sweet and forbidden love.
Oh, and you thought YOUR relationships were strange!
This is the opening paragraph to the story:
It felt strange to cry on land. In the ocean, no one could tell. That was the good thing about being in the water—Areta felt like it belonged on her skin. But here on the beach, the water acted like an intruder. The waves lapped up against the deserted shore of the island, wetting the sand in a spray of salt and cold relief, beckoning her to return to her mermaid form and dive back inside its depths.
She wouldn’t go yet.
Lovely writing! This sounds like a true winner.
Last but not least by a long shot, Book 10 is entitled “Dark to Dust”, by M. Leigh Marrott.
Sandy has a strange and lovely addiction. But like all addictions, it’s turning his world upside-down, inside-out. How far will Sanford go to satisfy his growing hunger?
Hmmm…I get the feeling that that hunger ain’t for peanut butter or chocolate-chip cookies…
The first time I tasted happiness, it was quite by accident. This time . . . not so much. It wasn’t that it was planned exactly. It was more desperation. Compulsion. Addiction. It was risky business, being out before dark. My health was in danger in more ways than one. The simple truth—I couldn’t help it anymore. Though the sun wasn’t quite finished setting, the boy was already dreaming when I came in through his window. An aura of gold floated about him, circling his body. I reached for it, completely mesmerized. It coated my fingers like glittery dust. I rubbed my bottom lip with my finger. Gone were the days when it was strange to think of ingesting it. Any previous hesitations or misgivings were extinct—every particle of my soul hungered for it. I bit my lip and sucked in a breath. The dust tickled its way down my throat teasing my insides. I knelt down next to the boy’s bed, leaned my face into his celestial cloud of joy, and inhaled deeply. I drank it into my bones. Flashes of golden light danced before my eyes. Visions raced through my mind—a warm embrace from his father, a wrestling match with his puppy, ice cream dripping down his chin, the sticky, goopy feeling of paint squishing between his fingers, the smell of his mother’s perfume. It took my breath away. My chest felt as if it would burst. Every molecule inside me danced in animated bliss. So much vitality and fire bolting through me, hammering my heart to life, pumping animated force through my form until it nearly solidified. I reached down and touched the boy’s face. I actually felt him! I laughed as the room swam around me. I heard footsteps coming. I doubled over in pain as my panicked heart pounded in my chest. I still wasn’t used to that—no one had ever told me it could hurt like that. I reached for the window latch and my hand went right through it. It seemed that as quickly as the golden dust had given me life, the effects had dissipated. I sighed. My no-longer beating heart ached. For a flash of an instant I had been an actual boy, much like the one who was still slightly snoring in his bed. It never lasted long enough. I flew through the glass just as the man I assumed to be the boy’s father opened the door to check on him. I hovered outside the window, watching as the man tiptoed to his son’s side, adjusted the boy’s blankets, and lightly kissed him on the cheek. The golden aura around the boy burst out from him like the pulse of a supernova, passing through me and out into the night. My once-again solid frame crashed to the ground, landing on the metal garbage cans at the side of the house. I shrank at the noise of it all, the kind of sound that reawakens the dead. The creaking of the window above me jolted me into action and, as the father yelled “Hey!” at me, his head sticking out the now open window, I ran for my newfound life.
Now THERE’S a twist that I haven’t seen. That is really cool!
OK–we’ve seen the “strange” part of this anthology, so now let’s meet the “lovely”–our wonderful authors.
Amber Argyle is the #1 bestselling author of Witch Song and Fairy Queen series. Her books have been nominated for and won awards in addition to being translated into French and Indonesian. She graduated cum laude from Utah State University with a degree in English and physical education, a husband, and a two-year old. Since then, she and her husband have added two more children, which they are actively trying to transform from crazy small people into less crazy larger people. To find out more about Amber Argyle, you can visit her blog at amberargyle.blogspot.com
Other Social Media links
C. J. Anaya began writing short stories for family and friends when she was thirteen years old. This soon morphed into an extensive project every year during Christmas as a way to create a fun and inexpensive Christmas gift. Her passion for reading and writing led her to following her own dreams of becoming a published author. She was born in Utah and raised everywhere else. She even lived a few years in Brazil, enjoying the people, the culture and learning the beautiful language of Portuguese; a language she is still fluent in to this day. As a result of her exposure to varying peoples and cultures, her interests became varied as well. As a mother of four children she is now a singer and a songwriter, a baker and a cake decorator, a dancer and a choreographer, a girl with a degree in Criminal Justice and a first time published author of YA paranormal romance and fantasy. She is also married to the most deliciously, handsome looking Latino. As always, she has plenty to write about.
Social Media Links:
Jennifer Griffith is a wife and a mother of five, and although she’s never seen a ghost, she believes in them and would love to meet one and ask a lot of questions. She’s the author of seven novels, all romantic comedies.
Author Social Media links:
Twitter handle: @GriffithJen Website:
Cindy M. Hogan graduated with a BA in education and is inspired by the unpredictable teenagers she teaches. More than anything she loves the time she has with her own teenage daughters and wishes she could freeze them at this fun age. If she’s not reading or writing, you’ll find her snuggled up with the love of her life watching a great movie or planning their next party. Most of all, she loves to laugh.
She is the bestselling and award winning author of the Watched trilogy, a YA suspense series with a dash of romance. She has since branched off to write a mystery, Gravediggers, that won Best YA novel of 2013, a contemporary romance, Confessions of a 16-Year-Old Virgin Lips, and two in a spy series, Adrenaline Rush and Hotwire.
Author Social Media links
Rebecca Gage Born in California, transplanted to Canada, Utah, then Arizona, Rebecca has lots of stories to tell. She also knows a lot about temperatures below zero and above 110. Rebecca Gage’s love of reading could only lead to one thing—writing. Of writing she states, “I used to walk into bookstores and stare at the glossy covers on the shelves. It was always a secret dream of mine to find my name among those titles.” Rebecca taught English for grades 8-10 (8/9th grade were her favorites). She may or may not have cried while finishing studying Tale of Two Cities with her class. She published for a brief time on an unofficial Disneyland Traveler’s blog. Since that time, she has finished her first novel, Wake Not the Dead. Originally it started as a romance paragraph for her writing group but then grew into an entire YA paranormal thriller—romance included. You can read the rough draft of Wake Not the Dead on http://www.wattpad.com/story/18329362-wake-not-the-dead. To be released 2015. As a mother of soon to be four children she is adept at embroidery, piano, cake decorating, Star Wars, sewing, painting, Just Dance-ing, waterfights, stepping on stray Legos and of course, bedtime tuck-ins.
Author Social Media links: Facebook: http://on.fb.me/1ssCXJo
Jenni James I’m a mom of seven rambunctious children (including teenagers!). We currently live in New Mexico and a few years ago we moved back to the States after living 9 awesome years in the Azores Islands of Portugal and England! My kids love the USA!
When I’m not writing up a storm, I enjoy reading, acting, portrait painting, directing plays, cooking, planning eleborate parties and chasing my kids around the house. I also find time to practice my awesome ninja skills and expert pirating techniques—I secretly dream of becoming a master at both.
Christine Fonseca is an acclaimed and award-winning author of nonfiction and young adult novels dedicated to helping children and adults find their unique voice in the world. When she isn’t crafting new worlds and new stories, she can be found sipping too many skinny vanilla lattes at her local coffee house. Find out more about Christine or her books at http://christinefonseca.com
- Author Website: http://christinefonseca.com
- Author Twitter: https://twitter.com/chrstinef
- Author Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Christine-Fonseca-Author/226271671435
- Author Google+: https://plus.google.com/u/0/+ChristineFonseca/posts
Jennifer Bryce has a brain that is never quiet (even in her sleep), she uses writing as an escape to be and do anything she can create. Plotting is her favorite thing to do in her down time. Raised in southern Arizona, she was influenced by being raised a cop’s daughter (plenty of teenage angst material there), Mexican food, and the old West. She is a busy mother to three rambunctious boys, married to her amazing cowboy, a full-time nursing student, and desperately needs a long vacation. Her biggest fear in life is to be completely mediocre.
- Author Social Media links
Facebook: Author Jennifer Bryce
Stephanie Fowers loves bringing stories to life, and depending on her latest madcap ideas will do it through written word, song, and/ or film. She absolutely adores Bollywood and bonnet movies; i.e., BBC (which she supposes includes non-bonnet movies Sherlock and Dr. Who). Presently, she lives in Salt Lake where she’s living the life of the starving artist. This summer, she will do the reading of her musical, “The Raven” with the talented composer, Hilary Hornberger. She also expects to film some shorts with Triad Film Productions. Stephanie plans to bring more of her novels out to greet the light of day. Be sure to watch for her upcoming books, including YA fantasy, science fiction, mysteries, a compilation of short twisted fairy tales, and more–many more–romantic comedies. May the adventures begin.
- Author Social Media links
Author M. Leigh Marrott has been coloring the world with her stories since she could talk… just like those pesky aliens used to color her walls at night when she was four. The first poem she actually wrote down was at the age of eleven as she grumbled about cleaning. When she was in high school, her quirky English teacher submitted M. Leigh’s poetry to a local paper and, to the author’s dismay, it was published. In March 2013, she had a collection of haikus published in EFiction Magazine. Since then she has had various other pieces of work (poetry, short stories, and essays) published online. She is currently preparing her first full-length novel to send out to agents. You can find more of her writing at beneaththepaper.blogspot.com.
- Author Social Media links
Twitter– @leighmarrott https://twitter.com/leighmarrott
It’s been a strange and lovely time with these ladies. I hope you’ve enjoyed the ride as much as I have!