Tag Archives: fiction

Colony Crash

Yesterday was a great day at the same time it was terrible. My release day went as well as can be expected for an indie author trying to break into contemporary romance. Hopefully things will keep going well through the week!

The bad part was that on the way to work I got rear ended while I was sitting in traffic. Like literally sitting. I’m still mad about it. I’m fine but stiff, and the doctor says I’ve just pulled a muscle in my neck/shoulder. He also released me for the race this weekend so that’s something. They also talked me into a flu shot. My car is fine, by the way.

The other great thing that happened was that my story, Colony Crash was accepted for publication by A Million and One Magazine! It’s a short romance story with a hint of horror, and I may have fun writing a full novel for Camp NaNoWriMo. For now, please go check it out and tell me what you think!

A bee

Read it now in A Million and One Magazine!http://amillionandonemagazine.com/2019/01/15/colonycrash/

As a side note, I still have a few ARCs of At Any Cost available in exchange for a review! Comment if you’re interested!

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All Good Things

As of Wednesday, The Absence of Intellect is complete. I enjoyed writing it, and I also enjoyed sharing it here with you. I’ve re-edited it and will release October 30th for Kindle. It’ll be permafree, and I really hope you’ll download it so you can read it at your leisure all over again, or read the whole thing if you’ve missed any chapters.

So what’s next? Don’t you worry a bit, friends. Starting in December a new novella begins! At Any Cost is a little different in tone and features some morally grey main characters, but it’s still a love story in the end. I hope you’ll stay with me for the new story too!

Drowned History Notes and Rogue News

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I haven’t had any crochet to post for a little while because I’ve been so busy working on the final formatting for Drowned History. It’s still going to be coming out next Tuesday as planned, but some of the formatting for the print version was a little wonky and I’m still waiting on my proof. I had hoped to do a preorder but that doesn’t seem likely at this point so I’ll just keep in mind the timeline for the next one.

Speaking of the next one, I’m planning on releasing my book Only a Rogue Knows this summer! It was originally part of the Every Rogue’s Heart box set but I’m now allowed to sell it on its own, and I’m very excited. I’m planning on expanding some parts of it that I would have liked to write before and there will be a fantastic new cover, so even if you bought the box set there will be plenty for you to enjoy in the expanded version. I’m working on the new bits right now, and will send it to editing right away so I can get it formatted sooner than this one.

I suppose these little hiccups are all part of learning the ropes of being an indie author. Self-publishing offers an amazing amount of creative control, but it also comes with a bit of a learning curve. Hopefully I’ve done Drowned History justice and everything will go more smoothly next time. Eventually I’d like to buy a bundle of ISBN numbers and really print them under Frozen Flame Press, but that’s way out of my skillset for the moment. For now, I’m happy to let Createspace take care of all that while I work on increasing my skills.

Getting back to next week’s release, here’s a bit of important information: Drowned History will be released Tuesday, March 13th and will be $0.99 for the first two weeks, then go up to $2.99 after that. The paperback price will be $10.99, and I’ll be selling signed copies for the same price plus shipping. If you’d like me to reserve one for you, send me an email at beccalovebooks@gmail.com and I’ll get one out to you!

Presenting…Drowned History!

I was getting a little panicked because I wasn’t exactly done with the first book in the vampire series, which I was hoping to release in March. But never fear! I will have a book out in March and it’s one that’s very close to my heart.

Drowned History is the story of four people who get drawn into a search for a mysterious artifact buried in India in the fall of 1940. They quickly discover that some things are not what they appear, and the past comes back to haunt two of them. A lost love binds them together, but their trip into the far past may well tear them apart.

The release date for Drowned History is March 13, and I’ll open pre-orders at the end of February. There will be both print and e-book copies and I plan to have them available at every retailer. I’m so excited!

 

It’s Camping Time!

CNW_ParticipantI am super excited to tell you that I am participating in Camp NaNoWriMo this year! I had so much fun last year in November that I thought this would be a great opportunity for me to get a project finished that I can’t get out of my head.

You can set your own word goal for Camp so I went with a nice 20,000 word goal, thinking that the project I’m working on would be about 30-40,000 words, and I already had about 15,000 written. Unfortunately (or fortunately!) this project looks like it’s going to be a full-length novel so I bumped up my goal to a slightly more ambitious 30,000 words.

Once again, I’m having a ton of fun. I’ve met new people and participated in the first night of the NaNoHouseCup, representing Ravenclaw of course! The project is coming along nicely – I’m at 10% of my goal already – and hopefully I’ll have it finished by the end of April so I can focus on finishing the pirate project that I am woefully behind on.

I’ll keep you updated on both projects as I write them and maybe have a little bit of an excerpt in the coming weeks. For now, I’m heading back to the word mines to see if I can get a little more writing in!

Retainer

The first thought that went through his head when Taylor walked through the door of his lawyer’s office was that he knew where his money was going. He’d never seen a koi pond indoors before but there it was behind the desk, black marble and just deep enough for a couple of fish that were, oddly enough, nowhere to be seen.

His aunt had kept fish and her house had always hummed with filters and aerators. It had been a calming sound for him, but there were no sounds coming from the aquariums around the walls of the office. It didn’t matter. He was already calm.

He was alone in the room, left there by an anxious young man that had introduced himself as Ms. Dayton’s personal assistant. That had surprised Taylor; he had been expecting a paralegal. The assistant seemed to be hovering on the edge of telling him not to touch anything but for twelve hundred dollars an hour he was going to touch whatever he damn well pleased.

A gang of tiny, colorful fish flitted into their plants when he approached the tank and he pressed a finger to the glass, daring them to come out and savoring the power he held over them.

“Don’t touch that.”

Taylor turned around, expecting another assistant, and found himself face to face with a woman whose every motion felt as if she was carving herself out of ice. He took his hand away from the tank and the assistant hurried forward to wipe his fingerprint off the tank. The woman came over to him and looked him up and down.

“Natasha Dayton,” she said, extending a hand. “Your credit card says I’m your attorney now, so let’s get down to business.”

“Nice to meet you,” Taylor said, shaking her hand. “I’m—“

“I know who you are,” Tasha interrupted. “I watch the news, and unfortunately so does most of America. If they don’t watch the news, they read blogs. Everyone knows who you are and what you did, so let’s dispense with the dance and discuss how I’m going to make sure you keep sleeping in your own bed.” As she passed the tanks, the fish came out of hiding and followed her to the edge of their small, shifting worlds until they had nowhere else to go.

“Are those real plants?”

“Of course they are,” Tasha sighed. “They help keep the water clean. We aren’t here to talk about my fish tanks. We’re here to create a plan of action.” She sat down behind her desk and pulled out a piece of paper. “First things first, tell me your version of the truth.”

“I killed the guy,” Taylor said with a shrug. “I watched his house for years, I waited long enough so that no one would immediately connect me to his death, and then I slit his throat while he was watching trash TV. What else do you want to know?”

“At least you’re honest,” she said, shoving the paper away from her. “Try not to be that honest with the judge. We’re going for a winning verdict here. A dismissal, to tell the truth. It may not be pretty but I think we can get you off with most of your career intact.”

“I don’t care about my career,” Taylor said. There was a fountain pen in a wooden holder on the side of the desk closest to him and he focused on it for a moment until the thumping in his ears subsided. Blood. Just like Kinsey’s. “I’ve got plenty of money, I don’t need to work.”

“Well I care about mine.” Tasha shook her head. “How much dirt are you willing to let me dig up? Are you a big fan of morality or are you all right with my making witnesses cry? I hear one of them has cancer and the other is mentally ill.”

“You know,” Taylor said with a grin, “I think I’ve definitely picked the right lawyer.”

Knock

The sound was so soft that he almost didn’t hear it over the television. It was a scratching, scuffing sound that made Tom think of knocking the mud off his shoes when he came in through the back door. It could have been anything and he wasn’t the sort of man to jump at strange sounds so he settled deeper into his chair.

He was dozing, wrapped in the sort of warmth that came from security and nearly good health, and was almost asleep when he heard the sound again. The same scuffing, just underneath a green and fragrant crackling that he knew was coming from the side of the house.

“Dammit, Lee,” he muttered under his breath. He was sick of his neighbor letting that damn dog nose through his bushes. It always preceded a massive bowel movement and left both his bushes and backyard in a sorrier state than before the dog arrived, and Lee refused to do anything to stop it. Tom had spent the better part of a year trying to figure out the best way to confront his neighbor but he didn’t have the stomach for conflict anymore.

The sounds stopped abruptly and he let his eyelids droop again. It wasn’t worth it. He’d take the scooper out the next morning and get rid of the evidence so he could spend another day pretending it wouldn’t happen again. He’d give just about anything not to have to deal with it anymore.

“And now to our red carpet coverage,” the host of the celebrity news show said amidst an exciting sting of music that forced Tom’s eyes open. “Kima Carpenter is wearing a daring dress by one of the newest, hottest young designers, and doesn’t she look fantastic in it?”

“You can say that again,” his co-host said in a bubbly blonde tone. “Not many people can pull off those sorts of patterns but Kima sure does. Wow.” Tom reached for the remote control. He had zero interest in what the next big thing was wearing, and not just because he didn’t represent her. It had no bearing on whether or not he wanted them in his stable, and if he was being honest he preferred potential clients to come in dressed as simply as possible.

“Now here’s a good looking couple,” the host said. “Alyssa Duvall and Taylor Kyle, who still won’t tell whether or not they’re a real couple or just a pair of friends who like to keep us guessing. They’re both wearing Versace, making us wonder whether they do their shopping – and anything else – together.”

“I hope not,” Tom muttered. Taylor Kyle’s style left plenty to be desired as far as he was concerned, and always had. Bright colors were one thing, especially now that everyone was wearing them, but the man had some sort bizarre attraction to patterns and it seemed like fashion was determined to accommodate him.o The tuxedo jacket he was wearing had lapels of shocking red paisley and Tom groaned. “Thank God I dropped you when I did,” he said, turning the channel.

To his dismay, Taylor Kyle was on that channel as well. There was something about his smile, something too-wide and deep-rolling to express that gave Tom the shivers. He was handsome, no two ways about it, but there was something else there that he just didn’t like.

At first he thought the knocking he heard was at the front door, but it was too close. It almost sounded like it was coming from the kitchen, then the hall. It was soft and traveling, and by the time he figured out that it wasn’t knocking but the snaps of shiny, shiny shoes on his hardwood floor the knife was already at his throat.