#Paperback Release and #Giveaway!

 

 

Hello lovelies!

So, things rarely seem to work out the way we hope, and this is no exception. I had hoped to do a big pre-order thing leading up to the release of the paper edition of Pack or Prey, but as it turns out, life likes to hog the spotlight. So instead, I am going to post a simple announcement that:

Pack or Prey is officially available for purchase on paperback! Get it here now!

“But Melissa…Duckie…sweetie…You mentioned something about a giveaway?”

Why, yes, voice inside my head that may or may not require mild doses of anti-psychotics. Indeed, I did mention something about that.

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I have never done a real giveaway before, so you guys get to be my guinea pigs! Huzzah!

I am going to do this in three places: Comments on this blog post, comments on the FB post for this blog post, and comments on the tweet–you might have guessed it–about this blog post (don’t worry, I will pin this particular tweet to my twitter profile for easy searching.)

All you have to do is share this blog via your own blog, Facebook, or Twitter then comment “Shared” to enter for a free paperback. Important: Don’t forget to comment after sharing so I can enter your name!! I won’t always be able to see who shared just by you sharing!!

Pro tip: If you comment telling me what having a “home” means to you, you will get a second entry! If you comment telling me about when/how you finally gained your own sense of independence, you will get THREE entries! What?!

I will shove all the names into a randomizer and pick one winner on July 4th as soon as I see the first big boom in the sky, so you get 2 days to share and enter! I may even do a FB live event. Who knows. Depends on whether I can figure it all out… or if I look like a sunburned, drowned rat from my celebrating. Or if I’m drunk…

Ok, so maybe no FB live. That sounds like more trouble than I am willing to get into on a Wednesday evening. But share, share, share, and get entered! The contest starts…

Now!

 

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#CoverReveal for Pack or Prey

We finally have arrived at cover reveal day and it’s bittersweet for me. I try to keep my blogs as real and authentic to my personality as possible, and while sometimes this means being totally awkward and making a complete dummy of myself, today it means forcing myself to celebrate one moment in my life when I want to do anything but be happy and celebratory.

This morning I learned that my big brother passed away and while we knew it was an inevitability, no amount of preparation can ever prepare you for losing someone who was so entwined in your life and your heart. He was a pain in the ass, but he was my bubby, and my heart is broken.

Still, I know my brother supported my writing and wanted nothing more from me than to see me succeed and as much as I want to just curl up and cry, I also know he would want to kick my ass for doing so. So I push forward.

I have worked with Silvana before on my previous book cover, but had unintentionally stifled her true talent by stubbornly wanting a very specific model used. Wisely, when I was ready for a new title–and as such needed a whole new cover–I let her have free reign on this project. I gave her some simple instructions and ideas of what I liked but left everything up to her. And I can tell you that what she did was magical.

Without much more ado or incoherent ramblings–let’s reveal this thing shall we?

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Isn’t it a beaut? I could stare at it all day. You can get your shiny new copy on the Kindle Store for $1.99 in the next day or two (sorry, Amazon is sometimes slow to update covers.)

Unfortunately I wasn’t able to manage sorting out the other thing I had in store for you all. I will work on that soon, so keep a look out. In the meantime, hug the people you love. I am going to go do the same right now.

 

Recording, Re-titling, Re-releasing, Oh My!

When things start moving, BOY do they move!

So I’ve been hiding away lately while I worked on a super secret project, which has snowballed into something much bigger and—I believe—better. Sadly, the previous announcement on the Duckicorn website is no longer available to view since the site has been closed, but that’s okay. I still have this blog and I can break it all down to you a little better now that I have more details!

So what is my secret projects you ask?

1. I am finally releasing my book on AUDIBLE!!

Yes, I am super stoked! One of my long-term goals has been to get anything I write onto audiobook format. Well, it’s happening! I am collaborating with a new voice talent, Katrina Link, who is bringing Harley to life beautifully as we speak! I’ve already listened to the first fifteen minutes of audio and I am so happy I could sing. But I won’t. Don’t nobody deserve that. Keep an eye out as release details come up.

2. Re-releasing my PHSYICAL COPY of the book!!

I love ebook and audio so much, they are sooooo convenient for a busybody like me who needs thirty-seven extra hands before she could sit and read a book. (not to mention maybe a few cages to keep kids away) But there really is just no replacement for a hefty book you can flip through and smell that new-book-deliciousness. Therefore, 416 pages are heading to an online retailer near you in the very near future, complete with a shiny new cover designed by the lovely and uber-talented author and cover designer, Silvana G. Sanchez, who will also be re-covering the other formats of the book! I just got a sneak peek and I need a wet floor sign from all the drool. It’s GORGEOUS. Cover reveal coming soon, as well.

3. Rebranding with a shiny new—better fitting—title!!!

Yes, you heard that right! If you picked up on my subtle not-mentioning-of-the-book-by-name in this post, then maybe you already knew something was up. The pitfalls of self-publishing are as bountiful as the perks, and one of said problems is simply that sometimes we publish a book long LONG before it is ready. If you’ve followed along with me throughout the start of my career, you might know just how much I’ve struggled with this.

I’ve released the book twice after heavy edits and a new cover, and I promised that would be it. It was time to leave the book be and move on to new things.

Well, I am still a baby at this and still learning things as I go. So I apologize for the flightiness that is me. But I promise, this is it. I know this is it because, after a year of deliberating I have finally made the decision to re-title Deny the Moon. The process will be gradual, I will be switching the title on Smashwords, Amazon, and Goodreads as soon as I am able to, but I feel it is the best course for all. This is the name the book should have had from the start. From now on, Deny the Moon has hereby been re-titled as:

Pack or Prey: A Wolfblooded Series Novel

Not only is this better for this book, but it fits in more cohesively with the rest of the upcoming books in the series. (Yes, I am still writing book two. But It’s almost there! I don’t want to jump the gun again!)

 

So there you have it. I’ve been working on things as time allows me, but I think things will start moving faster in the coming months. I will say that this is it. Once this has all been accomplished, I will finally feel as though I’ve done right by my story and can move forward with it and finish book two. Everyone takes 5 years to write a sequel, right?

Right?

 

 

To the Critics of #MeToo and #IBelieveYou

I’ve seen a lot of reactions to the #MeToo campaign over the last couple of days. Some were heartwarming, some heartbreaking, and others filled me with white-hot rage. Two days ago, I posted my own #MeToo on my facebook with a strange mixture of emotions I’ve yet to pick apart. I’ve seen two family members, and some very dear friends post their own, my heart breaking with every new post. My heart swelled seeing men reply to their friends and family with #IBelieveYou, and was shook again when I saw male acquaintances bravely admit #MeToo.

And then there are the ones who somehow manage to make something already unbearable to begin with even more ugly.

Not only were there the predictable victim-blamers, men throwing angry tantrums about divisiveness between the sexes, and people trying to demean what it is these people were saying, but there were women–who had moments before cried #MeToo!–invalidating men who joined the movement with their own stories of abuse. I don’t know which one pisses me off more.

 

“If we can’t step back and take in the ENTIRE picture—which may or may not resemble our own personal struggle—then we will NEVER find a solution.”

 

So here is my opinion on the subject, broken down by each horrible response I have seen so far:

 

“This is an issue of men preying on women! Men, sit your ass down!” or “I get that men can be abused, too. Or that women can be the abusers. But this is a largely MEN attacking WOMEN problem!”

 

#MeToo is for SURVIVORS of sexual abuse, harassment, and rape. Survivors—not men, not women. It was originally created in 2007 by Tarana Burke, founder of Just Be Inc. as a succinct and powerful way for survivors of abuse to connect with one another, and has evolved into a battle cry over the last week.

This is about people, of any demographic, making their voice heard as loudly as they are comfortable. This isn’t just about men attacking women. The larger issue, which includes all sets, is the predatory preying on the victims. People hurting people, and that pain being considered “the norm.” If we can’t step back and take in the ENTIRE picture–which may or may not resemble our own personal struggle–then we will NEVER find a solution.

 

“This whole movement is STUPID. What the Hell do you think you are going to achieve by posting two words on your facebook page? Do something WORTHWHILE!”

 

This is a perfect example demeaning or dismissing the victims. You have no idea how many years it took some of these people to share that they were hurt. For many, this is the very first proclamation from a childhood of sexual abuse. This is the first time they are letting go of the shame, the guilt, and the fear. They are finding support through recognizing each other.

For others, they have shouted from the rooftops what they had gone through and no one ever believed them. How many years of second-guessing, of shouldering blame for something they had no control over, do you think some of these people suffered? By telling the man or woman who responds to their cry with #IBelieveYou that their support is useless not only demeans them, but it also belittles the overwhelming relief that survivor felt by FINALLY hearing those words.

The hope is that, with a wall of #MeToo’s pouring into people’s newsfeed, it will stop being some far-off epidemic. We can finally see just how close it hits to home. It will no longer be some intangible issue that couldn’t possibly effect my little world. Not only that, but the more people that post it, the more likely it will cajole that one victim into speaking up. You never know how many predators will finally be outed.

 

“The whole ‘Casting Couch’ trope has been a fixture of Hollywood for decades. Why start screaming and crying about it NOW?” or “They knew what they were getting into in that business. They should have found another career if they didn’t like it.”

 

God give me strength on this one…

 

“We should NEVER accept sexual abuse and harassment as being a ‘risk of being in the business’.”

 

Let’s just pretend you aren’t assuming this ONLY happens in show business or to young, naive actresses.

Imagine you are working your dream job, whatever it may be. It’s what you’ve worked your entire life towards. Thousands of dollars in school, classes, resources. Exhausting hours, long commutes, starting from the bottom and clawing your way up, fighting to prove yourself over and over again until finally you land and interview at the company you’ve had your eye on since you decided you wanted to be in that field. Except, when you finally start the interview with your future boss, they aren’t really interested in how hard you worked, your experience, or your ability to do the job. They want something from you if you want the job, a job thousands of others have gotten because of what was on their resumes rather than what was on their bodies. They dangle this job in front of you because they have the power and they know you would do just about anything for the break you’ve been fighting for.

Would you give up everything you lived for or just lie back and take it? If you were young and desperate and did what you had to do, would you not feel shame or disgust for what they put you through? Do they, then, get to just continue their predatory ways because you didn’t speak up right away?

I don’t care if it’s acting, medicine, education, law, or just a babysitting gig. No one has the right to exert power over someone like that. We should NEVER accept sexual abuse and harassment as being a “risk  of being in the business.” To suggest such only lets survivors know that you aren’t someone they can run to for help when these situations arise. Because that is what we are hearing when you say that. We hear you saying what we went through is not a big deal. Which is the very reason many of us take years to come forward—if ever.

Why are we all screaming now? Because we didn’t always have a platform from which to let our voices be heard. Back when the “Casting Couch trope” began, there was no Facebook or Twitter. There were no readily available outlets that allowed us to speak up on a large scale, to find support in one another, and to let us visibly see that we aren’t as alone as we were years ago. We can find one another, we can find help, and healing can finally begin.

 

“If they aren’t willing to name their attackers, then their voice is useless.”

 

Some victims still won’t be able to speak up. Some will remain silent because they still fear the consequences. My heart goes out to them. They are still allowed to count themselves as survivors. If they have the strength to let people know, “Hey, me too,” and not call out their attacker by name, guess what? That doesn’t invalidate them. Who are you to decide which survivor is worth their story and which one isn’t?

Yes, it would be a better world if everyone was strong enough to lay it all out there but this is reality. Some are still very much in their abuser’s lives. Some have close family who have grown up from whatever kind of kid they were when they assaulted or harassed them. Some are too kind to destroy people’s lives, even when those people have hurt them. There is no end to the reasoning behind not naming your attacker, and I for one am not going to harass someone over it or make them feel small because they can’t bring themselves to. They’ve already gone through that once (or more,) I refuse to add to their pain.

 

#MeToo can effect anyone of any gender, orientation, class, or creed. Just because it happens to a male, or a rich person, or a polyamorous person doesn’t make it any less life-altering. Whether or not you have personally experienced sexual assault, your life is likely to have been affected by it. If your girlfriend is afraid to walk put the trash to the curb at night, or your husband is twitchy when it comes to being intimate, if your once-outgoing children shut down out of nowhere, talk to them. Ask them questions. If you find out the worst, will you tell them it’s a risk of being small and helpless? If even ONE predator suffers the consequences of their actions as a result of this movement, I will call that a good day. And even more importantly, tell them #IBelieveYou.

Tired

I’m tired of the ugly.

Ugliness has infected this world, spreading its vile toxicity to every man, woman, and—yes—even child. Its firm, sticky fingers clutch at us and linger on through our daily lives, sucking away our energy, our strength, and our compassion.

We cannot work without it weighing us down. We cannot commute without it sliding into our ears, burrowing under our skin. We cannot live without it stealing each breath we fight for.

I’m so tired.

I’m tired of fighting with strangers, fighting with family, fighting with friends, fighting with myself. I’m exhausted from resisting and fatigued when I can’t resist any longer.

The world was not supposed to be like this. We were not supposed to be this way. We are one people. One people, yes, but with many facets. It’s the facets of a diamond that make it shine with brilliance, and yet, as people, we sling mud on the facets sitting opposite ourselves, doing whatever we can to dull its shine, to make what should be beautiful…

…ugly.

I already feel ugly, I don’t need your help.

I feel ugly in my skin, I feel ugly in my heart, and I feel ugly in my head. I try to be strong, but I am weak. I try to be kind, but sometimes I’m biased and unyielding. I try to understand, but my stubbornness and my inherent need to be right, OUR inherit need to be right, still tries to stir the embers of that oh-so-easy fire of contempt for anyone that thinks differently than we do—

It’s hard to go against your instinct. Especially when you have no idea WHY it’s instinct.

It’s programming coursing through your veins, signaling in your brain with microscopic ones and zeroes, telling you that this is what is right. And when you fight against that, when you try to reprogram yourself, when you question the coding and the syntax your consciousness was built on, it makes you… tired.

Well, I’m tired. Bone-deep.

I’m tired of watching my friends fight with friends. “Opinions that are like assholes: Everyone has one, but no one really wants to see yours. We don’t discuss those unpleasant things in polite company, so please pull your pants back up, and wash your hands.”

I’m tired of finding hair-thin cracks in previously solid families, caused by opposing politics hacking away at it. “Libtard!” C-RACK! “Cuntservative!” C-RACK!

I’m tired of being afraid that THIS unpopular opinion or THAT political view will throw my otherwise perfectly-perfect marriage onto a runaway train towards Divorce.

Don’t question the status quo. Don’t upset the nature of things. Don’t stand. Don’t kneel. Speak up. Keep quiet. Right. Wrong. Yes. No. Left. Right.

Humans are not elastic—we can only stretch and bend so much before we break. Humans are not play doh—you can’t shape someone else to your preferred specifications.

Humans… are human.

We are different, and stubborn, and fallible, and right, and wrong, and ugly when we feel threatened and uglier when we feel superior. We have opinions that don’t always mesh, we have histories that others can only speculate and empathize with but never, ever, truly comprehend. We are argumentative, and infuriating, and mean well, and some of us just want to watch the world burn.

But mostly, we are just tired.

I know I am.

 

 

32nd #Birthday: When Everyone Just Quits Trying?

Let me start this post by saying I am not really a birthday kinda gal. In fact, the only reason I know mine is coming up is because my husband asked me his usual, “What do you want for your birthday?” question. There were two years where I actually forgot my own birthday: One I only figured out the day before because of my work schedule, the other I realized the day of because someone wished me a Happy Birthday.

I don’t know when or why the lack of give-a-damns about the day came about; I just know that eventually, when people started giving me the old “Oooohh someone has a birthday coming up” grin and wink, it would take me a few minutes to realize they were talking about me. It was like I had a finite number of fucks to give on the subject, and each year I spent one of my fucks to blow out the birthday candles.

I think the last time I cared was on birthday number 25, and really that was only because I was excited about the super delicious Costco sheet cake my family bought for me. Not even joking, that shit was delicious.

 

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Probably how I am going to be kidnapped one day.

 

Now, because it drives my husband insane that I can never tell him what I want for my manufacturing-date celebration, I figured I would at least try to help him out a little and browse the web for ideas. What DO you give the woman who has no fucking clue what she wants? I typed “gifts for 32 year old women” hoping to find something that was mature yet fun enough to pique my interest. Because, let’s face it, I’m no spring chicken but I can still cluck with the rest of the hen house.

 

It was like I had a finite number of fucks to give on the subject, and each year I spent one of my fucks blowing out the birthday candles.

 

What… the fuck, guys.

Now I know I’ve quit caring about my own birthday—I mean it happens when you got a bushel of crotchfruit to buy gifts for every year… twice. You stop thinking about what you want for yourself when you have to worry about everyone else—but holy damn. When did 30 mean death of creativity, fun, or adventure? Here are some of the gifts suggested for your 32 year old wife/sister/daughter/friend:

 

A floral phone case.

 

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Show how much you care for your wife by giving her a girly-enough-to-puke phone case that she could have probably bought for herself because, you know, it’s a phone case. In fact, she probably saw this at the store, snorted, and passed it up for the durable Otterbox because she knows she’s a klutz, but now she has to smile and pretend to like it because you tried your best.

If you are dead set on giving her something for her phone, I guarantee she would be way more excited if you payed for a month of service, or an iTunes gift card. Or even an Audible membership/credits because, let me tell you, I burn through books on my phone and they are not cheap.

 

 

Cord Organizer.

 

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…. Really? If she needs a cord organizer, chances are pretty good she won’t actually USE the thing, so it will likely just decay at the bottom of her purse.

If she’s the type to get really irked at cords, maybe get her those Bluetooth headphones she’s been drooling over, assuming she hasn’t gone wireless already. Or, if you want to do something with organization because she’s a mess—er—because she is too busy kicking ass and can’t get anyone to cooperate with helping out at home, maybe pay for a housecleaning or organizing service for the house. She will be speechless, I promise.

 

 

Colorful measuring spoons.

 

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Okay so, while these are kinda cute… do they really scream Happy Birthday to you? Yay! You were born! Here is a little reminder that your entire life’s meaning is to cook until you die, and as an added bonus we get to play “will one more item fit in the utensil drawer?!” And I know, I hear you already. “Well my wife doesn’t do all the cooking! I help out, too, because I am super husband!” Which begs the question, if it’s something that is going to be used constantly by everyone in the house, does that really make it her gift? Or just a nice addition to community property?

If you think cooking is the path to her heart, try taking her to a cooking class for couples. Or plan way ahead and save up so that you can spend the week of her birthday taking her to restaurants featuring exotic foods from all over the globe. You know, something that isn’t McDonald’s or Applebees that she doesn’t get to indulge in regularly. Make it a foodie adventure.

 

A Paperweight.

 

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You have GOT to be kidding me, right? If this is how you think your wife feels, maybe you should ask yourself if there might be another reason there isn’t enough wine. And then you might ask yourself if you really want to arm her with a blunt object perfectly sized for throwing.

If it’s the quote thing that caught your eye, then maybe try to tap into your romantic side and start the month out by slipping her hand-written quotes that remind you of her every day. Yes, I know, this takes a lot of planning but come on. Think of her smile when she sees these little surprises and knows you think about her as more than just a bed heater, personal chef, and TV remote arch nemesis. And here is an added bonus… this costs next to NOTHING. Thoughtful and frugal, my two favorite things.

And the last one because we will be here forever if I keep going:

 

Coasters.

 

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Yes, they actually suggested buying a woman 4 coasters for her birthday. Unless these coasters come with a magically endless refill of wine, tea, or whiskey, you just gave me yet another projectile weapon. There really are no words for this one. I mean, really guys? You look at someone you love and think, “she deserves coasters!”

At this point, there are no “comparable” alternatives. If you cannot think of anything better than a coaster, just don’t even try shopping for her. Hand her some cash or a gift card and drop her ass off at her favorite store. It might be the mall, it might be Target. Just let her do her thing. Coasters, guys. Really?

Now I know there are going to be some people whose first reaction to this blog will be, “You are so materialistic! At least they tried! Get over yourself!” To those people, I will point your attention back to the beginning of this rant. I honestly could get nothing and I would be indifferent to it. But I felt like I needed to help my fellow ladies out because sometimes a woman just likes to feel as though someone gets them. And if you notice, I had suggestions that were affordable or even free for the most part. It doesn’t have to break the bank.

 

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Just make sure the gift is appropriate for the recipient, guys.

 

It’s not about how cheap the gift is, it’s solely about knowing the person you are giving the gift to. By the products suggested in the article, I would think these women receiving them are dead inside, gentrified, no fun, and maybe just flat out broke and can’t buy any of these type of things themselves (I mean, baby oil? Really?) And that’s okay if that’s the case, but I wouldn’t label these as gifts to symbolize the celebration of their existence. If you wanna get them some cool coasters, do it just ’cause you think they’d like them. I’m not saying these aren’t nice things, but… you are supposed to step it up a notch for a birthday. C’mon.

Most women want to know they are seen and heard. That you want to experience things with them. Give them an adventure. Give them something they’ve been drooling over. Give them romance. Show you get them as individuals. Don’t just toss them a 5oz bottle of Beauty Blender cleaner. What?

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Review: Uriel’s Fall (#Audible #Audiobook)

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I came across the audiobook for Uriel’s Fall while looking for a narrator for my own work, and I must say the short two-minute sample I heard was enough to drive me over to Audible, register for an account, and download it.

Uriel’s Fall doesn’t waste time with the old good vs. evil rhetoric when it comes to demons and angels, and I couldn’t be happier for that. Hall brings a fresh look into the day-to-day lives of the inhabitants of Heaven and Hell, and Ubiquity is very much a day-to-day job. I love how she manages to meld the supernatural with the mundane seamlessly. This could very well be happening in the real corporate world and we would never know.

Ronnie is a fun character. Her snark helps to save her sometimes whiny and naive disposition. I mean, when you are a demon who can’t remember anything past three months ago, and had to have Lucifer pull strings to get you a job that feels daunting, I guess you have some things to whine about. And things don’t seem to be getting any better when an aggressive, bully-centric, and blood-thirsty voice suddenly starts talking to you, mocking your private thoughts. Especially when the voice appears to want a bloody vengeance against the three most powerful angels of all time.

Hall manages to keep the story flowing, effortlessly dialoguing Ronnie and the voice as she sets out to juggle a confusing love triangle between her, Gabriel, and Michael, figure out why Lucifer has suddenly become distant and unhelpful with getting her memories back, fighting with a d*** boss, and discovering what, or who, killed Metatron centuries ago and why she is connected to her death.

This book has quickly become one of my favorites and I can’t wait to sink my teeth into more. DEFINITELY worth a read, or listen!

Amazon: Buy Here   Audible: Buy Here

 

 

DENY THE MOON is Officially Live on #Smashwords and #Amazon

 

I feel like it has taken ages to get here, which is absurd when  you think about it. I’ve launched Deny the Moon before, right? So there really isn’t much to be said this time around.

Wrong!

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Well, okay. So my book is no stranger to the Smashwords or Kindle shelves. I know to many people, this relaunch hardly seems like a big deal and that’s okay. It doesn’t have to be a big deal to everyone else.

Personally, I think it’s phenomenal. I feel like I have finally accomplished something.

“But Melissa,” you say. “How do you feel accomplished now, but didn’t before?”

“Because,” I tell you while demonstrating a perfect Captain Morgan pose, “I have finally finished!” I am done. Finally. Completely. Done.

I no longer feel compelled to go in and tweak this scene, or fill in this part. I don’t feel as though there are things still left unsaid. I am content. To be honest, I never thought I would get that way about a book, but there it is. I can look at Deny the Moon and feel nothing. No wiggle of anxiety. No panic. There is nothing left to say.

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So relaxed.

Does this mean Deny the Moon is perfect? Hell no. This is my first book guys, my debut novel. I’m still getting my feet wet in this whole writing thing, and I am sure from a technical standpoint there can still be fixes to be had, but the truth of the matter is I am done having them. I have put the book through all the paces I had access to, have revised and rewrote hours of content, had a multitude of eyes peruse it’s pages in search of problematic paragraphs, and there is no more I can do. It’s my baby, and she’s ready to meet the world.

So, as of today, you can snag yourself a copy in two ways:

  • Via Smashwords for Free!
  • Or, if you don’t mind throwing a nickel into my hat, you can also get the Kindle version for $0.99.

There’s really not much else to it.

Thank you, to everyone who has listened to my ups and downs while getting through this. It means the world to me. And the best part about being done? I have finally unclogged the blockade that was keeping me from writing book two. Since the relaunch, I have written an entire page of content for Raging Spirit, something I was beginning to worry would never happen. I will totally take that as a sign to move forward.

Hopefully, you will enjoy what I’ve offered to you. Whether you are new to the series, or just want to brush up on the new content, I recommend giving it a read. And as always, feel free to leave an honest review. I’ll keep plugging away at the sequel, and another surprise I have up my sleeve for you.

tenor

 

 

#Excerpt: Deny the Moon

We are just over two weeks away from the re-launch of Deny the Moon! I don’t know about you, but I am getting super excited! Not just because I’ve been dying to get this back on the shelves, but also because it will be the start of new projects for me. I can finally turn my focus—cause let’s face it, I don’t have much to spare!—to my other works to try and get them out there for you guys.

Because I love to share, I felt that now was as good a time as any to give a little sneak-peek snack-sized bite of Deny the Moon for you all to enjoy. Take a gander, and if you like what you see then please join us on April 7th at Duckicorn’s facebook page for the little Re-Launch shindig. And if you really can’t wait two more weeks, and you like to review things, the first five people to sign up for the Duckicorn ARC Team Mailing list will get a free copy of Deny the Moon to read and review, as well as be first in line to receive Advance Review Copies of future works from us at Duckicorn Creative Squad! Why would you ever turn down free books!

Become a member of the ARC Team!

Okay, enough shenanigans and tomfoolery. Get your sneak peek below and mark your calendars for April 7th!

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Traffic along South Quentin Avenue began to slow as the night dragged on, allowing him an almost-unobstructed view inside the restaurant across the road. Only the occasional car driving past broke the scene before him, robbing a few seconds of her flirtatious smile from him. He’d been standing there for nearly two hours, and it looked like they weren’t going to be leaving any time soon.

God, she was beautiful. More than she’d ever been, if it was possible. Her face was alive and vibrant as she spoke, her hands animated with whatever story she was sharing with the man at her table. For once, it looked as if she had thrown all of her worries aside and allowed herself to live in the moment, to enjoy life and all it had to offer her, and he hated her for it. He hated the way this man could bring that coy smile to her lips, the way she fluttered those eyelashes at him, and lightly touched his arm as they talked.

He’d been looking for her for several months. Every city they passed through, he couldn’t help but wonder if she was nearby, if she was right under his nose. Like most things Harley did to him, her running off had made him crazy. He didn’t know what she’d done with his bike, if she’d gotten herself hurt, or worse, if she’d moved on. Watching her with this guy, it appeared as though she had done just that.

A waiter set a plate between them. The man grabbed his fork and dug it into the fat slice of chocolate cake then offered it to Harley. Rage roiled within him as she leaned over the table and let the guy feed her.

Oh, but that bitch was gonna pay. She would pay for what she put him through, how she made him feel, but first, he was going to tear that jackass limb from limb.

Frank’s cell rang in his jacket pocket and, tamping down his anger, he answered it on the third ring.

“Yeah,” he growled.

“Where are you?” the voice was impatient.

“Who are you, my mama?”

Harlow growled over the line. “Don’t start with me, Essex. You’re on thin ice as it is, you know. Now, if it were up to me… I’d have skinned you alive the night you let the girl ride away on your little toy. You had one job to do, and you fucked it off. However, my father thinks you’ll be worthwhile, yet.”

“Is that so?” Frank laughed derisively. “Must piss you off that daddy likes me better.”

“Don’t get too cocky, jackass. You’re about one wrong move from being on his shit list. Please,” he said the word with longing. “Please, give him a reason to send me after you.”

“Sorry, dickweed. You’re not my type,” Frank breathed as his eyes moved back to Harley.

She was reaching over and wiping something off the guy’s lower lip. Frank’s grip tightened on his phone so hard that it began to creak in protest. “What the fuck do you want, Harlow? I’m a little busy right now so if you just called to bust my balls—”

“Have you found her yet?”

Frank stared at the woman in the restaurant. Her hair was different. Blond and shorter than before, but there was no doubt that it was her. It was tragic, really. So many memories of that long, thick, dark hair as it tickled down his body. The tips sliding silkily over his skin as she teased him. So many memories of her and the things she could do. His dick hardened at the mere thought of it.

“No,” he growled as he watched them together. “Still no sign of the bitch.”

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So Your Friend Is an Author…

Sometimes your author friends are afraid asking you for help would make them “annoying” or “needy”. Here’s how you can help them out without them even knowing.

Or… you know… here’s way to have them indebted to you. 😉

chrismcmullen

Judge

Amazing, Isn’t It?

Yes. It is.

How many authors do you actually know?

Now your friend is one.

The key word there is friend.

This was your friend before. Becoming an author doesn’t change that.

Sure, you can tease your friend about this, if your relationship ordinarily involves teasing.

But your friendship is based on more than just teasing:

  • You support one another. Even if one of you writes a book.
  • You’re honest with one another. Even if you think the book isn’t quite, well, you know.
  • You know each other well. How to get on one another’s nerves. How to put things gently. So you can figure out the right way to share honest feedback.
  • You motivate one another. So in addition to honest feedback, you’ll provide encouragement, motivation, and direction.

Your friend wrote a book. That’s a huge accomplishment. Treat it as such.

There are some things you…

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