Write Stuff: July 2016

Thursday, July 28, 2016

Picture Post #summertravel

I recently returned from a little jaunt to a family reunion in southern Utah. I took a few photos that I figured I'd share here, just for fun :)

This is my grandfather's place by the lake and it was really good to visit and remember him. We hung some prayer flags in his honor. So good to reflect on how wonderful he was.

Panguitch Lake. I've fished quite a few times here :)

The grasses on the lake shore were pretty amazing. I kind of love this pic :)

I *may* have had a lot of fun with my camera while exploring.

Cedar Breaks was so beautiful, even Kate the Great was jumping for joy.

Holy crud was it HOT out. There was lots of ice cream consumption.

I may *really* (and I do mean REALLY) not agree with the LDS church, mainly due to once being a member, but the Temple certainly is pretty. I'll give it that :)

After Reading: A LOVE THAT DISTURBS by Medeia Sharif

By: Meradeth Houston on 4:00 AM

Maysa Mazari is alarmed by her mother’s talk about arranged marriage. As a hijab-wearing Pakistani-American, she wants to find love on her own. Her judgmental Muslim clique has protected her from racist taunts, although the leader is turning on her as Maysa strays from the group because of her attraction to Haydee.

Haydee Gomez is a former gang member and juvenile detention student. Now living with a clean-cut aunt, she wants to turn her life around, even though one person will never let her forget her roots—Rafe, her abusive pimp. Haydee attempts to pull away from a life of prostitution when she develops feelings for Maysa, although Rafe isn’t willing to give her up too easily.
Finding themselves in danger from Maysa’s friends and Haydee’s pimp, it’s apparent their love disturbs everyone around them as they fight to stay together. (Goodreads)

I've really enjoyed Sharif's other novels--she's a prolific author with an amazing range--so I had high hopes for this novel. I was not disappointed! The story and characters were rich and facing issues that were incredibly complex (and sometimes horrifying). I'll admit that I did have a bit of a hard time identifying with the characters as they were in situations so vastly distinct, but that didn't detract from the story. My only other minor quibble is that the relationship between the two women felt a bit like insta-love, which is something that bothers me no matter the parties involved. While I could tell that they were definitely in love, I guess I like things to build more in a relationship, which I feel is more realistic. Still, I liked seeing the two of them together, and the clear bond between them. And the ending...yeesh! Without giving things away, it was crazy intense. Overall, I definitely enjoyed this read and look forward to more from Sharif!

After Reading: CHANGELESS by Gail Carriger

By: Meradeth Houston on 4:00 AM

Alexia Maccon, the Lady Woolsey, awakens in the wee hours of the mid-afternoon to find her husband, who should be decently asleep like any normal werewolf, yelling at the top of his lungs. Then he disappears; leaving her to deal with a regiment of supernatural soldiers encamped on her doorstep, a plethora of exorcised ghosts, and an angry Queen Victoria.

But Alexia is armed with her trusty parasol, the latest fashions, and an arsenal of biting civility. So even when her investigations take her to Scotland, the backwater of ugly waistcoats, she is prepared: upending werewolf pack dynamics as only the soulless can. She might even find time to track down her wayward husband, if she feels like it.

CHANGLESS is the second book of the Parasol Protectorate series: a comedy of manners set in Victorian London, full of werewolves, vampires, dirigibles, and tea-drinking. (Goodreads)

I loved this book. It was exactly what I needed to read--light, funny, a snappy Alexia, a fun mystery, and just basically one of those great books to curl up with and forget the world. I enjoyed the first book in this series a great deal, but the second was definitely better--the characters felt more fleshed out and I felt like Alexia had come into her own. Plus, it was quite amusing to see her dealing her position as Lady of a large pack, and all that goes along with that, coupled with Victorian England. Ahh, seriously, all kinds of fun. I'm absolutely looking forward to reading more in this series!

Have you had a chance to read any of the books in this series?

My New Website Home #authorlife

By: Meradeth Houston on 4:00 AM

I've known for a while that I needed to update my website. It was looking pretty old ad outdated, which is what happens when over five years pass since you last put it together :) So, with some awesome help from my writing buddy S. Usher Evans (who has an amazing collection of books out!), the changes have been made and it's looking pretty incredible if I do say so myself!

See? All kinds of pretty. And it's on wordpress, which is amazingly easier to work with than messing with Cascade, which is how I put together my last one (even though coding is pretty fun, just a whole lot more tedious and time consuming).

So, go check it out! Let me know thoughts :) Maybe sign up for my newsletter while you're at it?

Also, hang in there with me as I migrate my blog over to wordpress. This is going to be something that happens in the near future, but I haven't had the time to go change my billion links across the internet so it's still in-progress!

Blog Tour: THE CHASM by S. Usher Evans

By: Meradeth Houston on 4:00 AM

They survived The Island, but can they cross The Chasm? Four months after Prince Galian was discovered alive on a remote island, he's adjusting slowly to life at the hospital under the Kylaen media's glare. His promises to Theo remain unfulfilled as fear of his father keeps him from taking concrete action. And the more he learns about the machinations in Kylae, the less sure he is that it's possible to make a difference. Across the great Madion Sea, Major Theo Kallistrate struggles to navigate the tricky political waters of Rave's presidential staff. To make positive change for her people, she must remain relevant and interesting to the Raven media and to the president. When he asks her to deliver a speech on her supposed two-month imprisonment at Mael, she's not sure she can stomach the lies. The Chasm is S. Usher Evans' breathtaking, fast-paced follow-up to The Island, which readers say is "not to be missed."

Buy Direct (signed): Paperback | Hardcover
Amazon: Kindle | Paperback | Hardcover
Barnes and Noble: Nook | Paperback | Hardcover
Book Depository: Paperback | Hardcover
iBooks
Kobo
Smashwords

<a Rafflecopter giveaway

Sneak Peek

Theo

"Bayard won't be back for at least two hours," Emilie said, glancing at her watch. "We will probably need to tweak his talking points based on his discussions with the Jervan president. Wesson, take the lead on that."

He nodded and scribbled in his book.

"Aruna," Emilie said, nodding at a younger girl I'd seen in a few meetings. She paled at being called on, but held her pen ready. "Find Cannon and tail him. Make sure he stays on message and doesn't dally in anything…embarrassing." She paused, a disgusted look crossing her face. "And if he does, make sure nobody knows. Talk to Wesson for crowns if you need it."

She nodded with a small smile. She might take that mission a little too seriously.

"And 'neechai," Emilie said, grabbing my attention. "You and I will spend the afternoon working on your speech. I trust that you've resolved whatever…issues you were having."

I dipped my head, even as dread coiled in my stomach. Emilie moved on to someone else, so I pulled the speech out from the calf-pocket of my jumpsuit. I'd practiced it once or twice while sitting in the pool, reading quietly to myself and envisioning what it would be like to speak in front of the Madion nation leadership.

But even in my head, I still stumbled through the parts about Mael. Stumbling wouldn't cut it for Emilie, so I prayed for a miracle.

"What's going on out there?" Emilie said, squinting to her left. I followed her gaze and saw a crowd of people standing at the hotel's entrance, craning over each other to get a look at whatever was outside.

I stood with the rest of the Ravens and walked into the lobby. The crowd grew more frenzied and then the front doors of the hotel opened.

The crowd pushed in then parted, and in strolled the last person I'd ever expected to see again.

"Amichai."

He was beautiful, a wide smile on his face and his gait confident. His brown hair was clipped shorter and he no longer wore the beard I'd grown accustomed to seeing on our island. He paused in the middle of the lobby to talk to two journalists who'd approached him, then threw his head back and laughed.

Then his eyes locked with mine.

It was as if everything and everyone disappeared. The corners of his mouth turned up and I suddenly forgot how to breathe. Electricity crackled in the hundred steps that lay between us, and I could've sworn I knew exactly what he was thinking. If I'd had any doubt about his reason for arriving in this city, in this hotel, on this day, it vanished in that moment.

As desperately as I wanted to run to him, for some reason, my legs wouldn't move. Something was keeping me from going to him, but for the life of me I couldn't remember what it was…

"What in the world is the princeling doing here?" Cannon's voice pierced my bubble, and I wrenched my eyes away from Galian's. Where I was, who I was with, and my purpose rushed back to me like waking from the best dream into a nightmare.

I found my voice. "I have no idea."

"I doubt he's meddling in the summit. He'd be stupid to disobey his father." Cannon shrugged mightily. "Then again, the princeling's never been too smart."

"Right, he's an idiot," I said.

Stupid, stupid princeling. How could he be so irresponsible as to come to Jervan? Especially after his father had forbidden anyone from Kylae to attend, or so Emilie had told us in a meeting earlier that week. And he just walked through the front door, announcing to the entire world that he was there.

I realized I was still watching him when Cannon's voice again interrupted my thoughts. "Come now, kallistrate, don't be star struck. He's just a prince."

I nodded hastily and turned away from him so I wouldn't be tempted to stare. "Just a prince, right."

And my amichai.

Galian

She was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

I drank in the sight of her: the way her velvet lips parted, how her big brown eyes widened slightly. Her hair pulled back into a bun, her Raven uniform immaculate. The shape of her body. How her dark skin had grown pale.

"If you're trying to pretend you don't know her, perhaps you shouldn't stare," Martin snickered beside me. "I'll stare at her for you. She's a lot cuter than I remembered."

"Right," I said, turning away. "So do you think it worked?"

I had just finished talking to a reporter, feigning ignorance about any sort of summit or why the leaders from three of the four Madion nations were in this city. I'd made sure to talk about my plans to drink heavily and meet some hot Jervanian girls, just to play the part.

I attempted to keep the giddy smile off of my face as I checked into the hotel. When I snuck another glance at her, she'd turned away from me, but the rest of the Ravens kept staring at me, pointing and discussing amongst themselves. I wondered what they were saying.

"I apologize, Your Highness," the clerk said with all the sincerity of a wet mop. "All of our suites have been reserved by delegations to the summit. The only rooms I have are the basic rooms."

"I doubt I'll be sleeping in my own room anyway," I said with an overly confident grin.

The clerk, predictably, rolled his eyes in disgust.

I caught Martin's eye, and he snorted.

"Your keys, Your Highness," he said, sliding over two access cards. "Please be advised that there is a two hundred crown cleaning fee for any…destruction."

I winked at him then motioned for Martin to grab our bags. I would've carried my own, but it would've been contrary to the part I was playing.

"You sure faked that well," Martin said, tossing my bag to me once we were safely in the elevator.

"I wish I could say I've never been that much of an asshole before," I said with a small grimace.

About the Author

View More: http://ashleyvictoriaphotography.pass.us/whitneyevans

S. Usher Evans is an author, blogger, and witty banter aficionado. Born in Pensacola, Florida, she left the sleepy town behind for the fast-paced world of Washington, D.C.. There, she somehow landed jobs with BBC, Discovery Channel, and National Geographic Television before finally settling into a “real job” as an IT consultant. After a quarter life crisis at age 27, she decided consulting was for the birds and rekindled a childhood passion for writing novels. She sold everything she owned and moved back to Pensacola, where she currently resides with her two dogs, Zoe and Mr. Biscuit. Evans is the author of the Razia series, Madion War Trilogy, and Empath, published by Sun’s Golden Ray Publishing. Check her out on the below social medias:

After Reading: WITCH OF THE CARDS by Catherine Stine

By: Meradeth Houston on 4:00 AM

Fiera was born a sea witch with no inkling of her power. And now it might be too late.

Witch of the Cards is historical, supernatural romantic suspense set in 1932 on the Jersey shore. Twenty-two year-old Fiera has recently left the Brooklyn orphanage where she was raised, and works in Manhattan as a nanny. She gets a lucky break when her boss pays for her short vacation in Asbury Park. One evening, Fiera and her new friend Dulcie wander down the boardwalk and into Peter Dune’s Tarot & Séance, where they attend a card reading.

Fiera has always had an unsettling ability to know things before they happen and sense people’s hidden agendas. She longs to either find out the origin of her powers or else banish them because as is, they make her feel crazy. When, during the reading, her energies somehow bond with Peter Dune’s and form an undeniable ethereal force, a chain of revelations and dangerous events begin to unspool. For one, Fiera finds out she is a witch from a powerful sea clan, but that someone is out to stop her blossoming power forever. And though she is falling in love with Peter, he also has a secret side. He’s no card reader, but a private detective working to expose mediums. Despite this terrible betrayal, Fiera must make the choice to save Peter from a tragic Morro Cruise boat fire, or let him perish with his fellow investigators. Told in alternating viewpoints, we hear Fiera and Peter each struggle against their deep attraction. Secrets, lies, even murder, lace this dark fantasy. (Goodreads)

This was such an awesomely fun read! It took me a few pages to wander into the 1930's, with its lingo and other details, but then Stine wraps the reader into a fabulous world filled with intrigue and interest. I have heard about the paranormal hunters--those out to shut down the sham mediums out to fleece people, and found that angle to be quite interesting, especially when they come up against a real witch: Fiera. I loved the friendships Fiera forms and the relationships beyond just the romantic one. And then there's Alyse, who is one freaky villain (I won't say more due to spoilers, but yikes!). There were a few spots where the timeline caught me up a bit ("had that only been the day before" kind of stuff), but mostly that was easily overlooked. In the end, this was a really fun read, and I quickly devoured it! Highly recommended beach read :)

After Reading: THOSE WE FEAR by Victoria Griffith

By: Meradeth Houston on 4:00 AM

What do you get when you cross The Turn of the Screw and Jane Eyre with Psycho? Victoria Griffith's latest thriller.
When Maria becomes a summertime au pair to the children of a Scottish lord, she discovers the family is living under the shadow of two suspicious deaths. Vanishing portraits, cloaked figures, and bizarre shrines add up to a compelling Modern Gothic psychological mystery. (Goodreads)

So this was a short, fun read. The tension and pacing definitely kept me awake and the pages turning! I particularly enjoyed it for seeing how the author kept things happening, setting the pace high and never letting it slack. The setting was great, too; in isolated Scotland with all the mists and mysteries that go along with it. The main character, Maria, was well drawn and definitely going through something terrible, which became clearer as the story unfolded (though admittedly the truth about what happened to her mother felt off to me). The story itself reminded me the most of Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier, with a heathy sprinkling of Jane Eyre tossed in as well. Overall, a fun read with a refreshingly realistic ending that I appreciated. If you're looking for something a little dark, a little suspenseful, and definitely a little creepy, check this one out!

#flashfiction The Spirit of Independence Day lives on

By: Meradeth Houston on 4:00 AM

Happy 4th of July to all my state-side friends :) And happy summertime to everyone else! I hope July is off to a great start. I thought I'd re-post a little piece from last year that I wrote for the flash-fiction blog I belonged to. It was a bit of American Gods channeling (well, I don't know if I can really say that, but that's what I was going for!). Hope you enjoy!

***

The last of the smoke cleared from the fireworks that had lit the bay. The booming thunderclaps had scared the last dogs and the crowds gathered their blankets and chairs. The trickle of people headed home were a little quieter, their voices still filled with happiness, but now muted by the night.

“Ready?” He leaned over and bumped my shoulder with his own, a small grin lighting up his features as I looked at him.

I sighed. The end always came too quickly. The light from the show over too soon. I didn’t want to go back. If only there were a way to pause, let the night linger for just a few more hours.

“I guess.” He stood and held out a hand, pulling me to my feet with a little added force that made me run into him.

His arms caught around me, tugging me close as he rocked us around in a slow circle on the lawn. The lawn around us had nearly emptied and the calm of the night, the rush and hiss of the surf past the low wall, marked a perfect moment.

“Another year,” I whispered. His neck felt cool against my forehead as I leaned against him.

“One of many more.”

I didn’t respond. So many ‘ifs’ clung to that word that I didn’t dare think too much about it. We could only hope for many more. Our lives depended on it.

We gathered up our things, folding them away into a bag he slung over his shoulder. He took my hand as we walked up the path toward the city lights. A few other stragglers trickled out onto the busier street, the clog of traffic still creating a long line at the freeway entrance.

We kept walking, no real destination in mind.

These last few hours were the sweetest. The ones I cherished the most, even if the always heralded the end.

“What did you like best about today?” he asked. His hand twined with mine squeezed a little tighter.

I cocked my head to the side, pretending to think it over. While the fireworks were always my favorite, today had more things to celebrate. “The laughter.” There had seemed to be more today. More faces smiling. This city we visited so infrequently had felt happier. It rang out in smiles and the laughter of the faces we watched.

The answer seemed to please him and our arms swung as we walked along the lit sidewalks, passing parties and sparklers and music that spilled out to greet us.

“The peace,” he said, with a shrug, knowing I’d want to know his response.

“You always say that.” I laughed at how obvious an answer it was, coming from him.

“Doesn’t make it less true.” His dark eyes met mine and the night with all its wonders seemed to expand before us, ignoring the end that approached all too fast.

Almost seeming to respond to our good mood, a siren, then two, cut through the air. They slid under my skin and I shivered, drawing closer to him.

The source of need came clear as we walked. Two blocks away and we smelled it. Flames. Our pace picked up. The heat came next, burning away at the ocean mist that swallowed the city.

An officer, face grimy and eyes too wide, kept the crowd from getting too close. We joined the throng, but even the hushed whispers of horror couldn’t drown the screams.

A Church. One of the oldest in the city. And faces and hands beat at the windows in the second story, the roar of orange flickering flames licking at the same glass. The leaded windows were too hard to break.

On the lawn, it was almost worse. The gathered people, wrapped in the silvery blankets handed out by the EMT’s, sobbed and pleaded for something to be done.

The words, scrawled in giant white letters, seemed to glow in glare from the police searchlights. Hate grew from them, impossible to ignore. Those around me stiffened as they read, no one wanting to believe someone could have done this on purpose. Not on this night. Not in this country.

Arms went around me and I tried to let that comfort me, but this scene seemed to eat away at every bit of happiness from the day, consume each of the laughing faces I’d seen and joined with.

“Remember, it’s just one event,” his voice spoke in my ear. A quiet reminder to hold on to the good.

“Why does it have to be this way?”

“If we understood that…” he shook his head. His eyes completed the sentence: if we understood the why of why people stove so hard to take away the liberty, the freedom, the very lives of so many, then we might have a chance to fight back.

But we didn’t understand. It went against everything we could see and understand.

We watched, my hands pressed against my mouth like I could hold in the scream of dread that settled in my throat—hot and prickly. The flames couldn’t be stopped. The police forced us back.

The Church collapsed.

Parents wailed.

The crowd cried.

I had to look away and pressed my face against his chest, soaking his shirt with tears.

His lips pressed against my cheek before his breath rushed warm in my ear. “Look.”

I followed his finger toward the opposite side of street. There, the house that stood there had thrown open its doors, and a couple with their two children pulled people into the warmth of their lights, pressed water bottles into hands, offered blankets to the shell-shocked people who watched.

“Is it enough?” I breathed the question.

“For now.”

The tug that caught at my lower back signaled the time. We needed to go. Without looking at one another, he took my hand and led me down the street. Around the corner and into the shadows.

“Next year?” he asked, already a whisper as we faded.

“Will we be able?” I hated asking the question, spoiling the last moments together. But I wondered. The power that gave us this one day, the ability to feel and touch and celebrate the feelings that gave us shape. The beliefs of so many that literally breathed life into us for this single day. Could it last another year after what we’d seen tonight?

“Don’t doubt it. Same time, same place. Next year. These people aren’t free of us yet.” His smile was warm, confident, and I knew it was mostly for me. For comfort.

My fingers were numb and the feeling reached up my arms, wrapping around me so I couldn’t feel his embrace any longer.

And then, with a rush of wind, we were gone until the next Independence Day.