Fight the good fight
For the love of all things pop culture, I simply could not resist indulging in this gem of a blog hop. Check out my list and then tell me yours so we can compare notes.
As I am wont to do, I was stalking one of the blogs I follow, that belonging to the lovely Paige Randall, got wind of the Screen Characters Blog Hop, and invited myself to join the party…with Paige’s blessing, of course.
What’s a Screen Characters blog hop? you say.
It’s simple: name your ten favorite TV or Movie characters, then nominate ten friends to do the same.
Dude, I’m in because really, what do I love more than making lists of nonsensical, unimportant shit? Okay, okay, I do kinda like a kiss on that spot on my throat and I will never turn down wall-shaking, earth-moving sex
but close behind is pointless list-making, especially that of the pop culture variety.
So let’s do this shit.
1. Denise Huxtable, I could wax poetic for years and it would not begin to touch on the significance you played in my life…
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with a capital L
and an I – A – R.
All caps. All day, everyday.
See, here’s the deal: in the Author Notes of the finale of THE SANCTUM TRILOGY, I promise to publish an Epilogue on my blog for anyone who needs some hand-holding after reading everything that goes down with Wyatt, Dev, and the crew. Because a close friend needed it after reading the last sentence of The Prophecy.
She needed some reassurance, some hope, and in a fit of generosity and because I love her so, I gave it to her, then oddly promised to give it to everyone else. Despite the fact that I hated it
when I wrote it
I fucking abhor that Epilogue.
Every word of it. Every sentiment. Every heated glance.
I don’t want to give anyone a neatly tied up, prettily packaged HEA (which I’ve learned means “Happily Ever After”…vomit…everywhere…now). I want you to sit with the shit that goes down
I want you to get emotional about it because it’s fucking brutal and intense and you should get emotional about it. And afterwards, if you’re not so sure things are that great for everyone involved, well so be it. I can’t help you.
Well, I could help you
but I’m not going to.
Because I love my ending and I don’t need any hand-holding or comforting or hope. I think the ending, in all of its perfect imperfectness, is just right. There’s nothing more. At least not for the trilogy.
Not for the story of the prophecy.
What you see in those three books is what you get. No more.
So let me say a big sorry to anyone who reads my Author’s Note and wonders where the hell they can find that promised Epilogue.
I admit it, I lied.
At least I’m honest about that
because seriously, there is no way in hell ANYONE else is seeing that goddamned Epilogue.
And now I’m off to edit my books…
1. These two, and this shot in particular, bring the serious joy.
2. The other day, someone at work called me “Queen Bee”
3. The other night while I was walking home, freezing my ass off and mumbling to myself about how fucking cold my ears were, I happened to look up at the sky and guess what? I can see the stars from my front yard. And it is all kinds of awesome.
4. Here’s the dedication of Book III: THE PROPHECY…no explanation needed and after suffering through raising my ass, it’s the least I could do. I can never repay them but hopefully small love notes like this bring them the joy.
5. This gem evolved from a night of hanging with the girls this weekend, indulging in all kinds of shenanigans, belly laughs, and vast amounts of bourbon, because we’re fucking awesome like that
6. The teasers for that movie Focus are hot. I mean, the movie could suck, but damn if Will Smith and the girl from Wolf of Wall Street (I can’t remember her name and am too fucking lazy to look it up) don’t have some serious chemistry.
7. I hosted half-hour take-overs at two author events this weekend – thanks Aria and Addison – met some fabulous people, and was able to push my books on some new folks. It was exhausting and thrilling and head-spinning because those events move at a break neck pace. I gave away some books and am crossing my fingers that I’ll make some new folks fall in love with The Sanctum.
8. Speaking of The Sanctum, I got some Wyatt-and-Dev-inspired ink this weekend. The last line of my trilogy, carved into my ribs, forever and ever. Or at least until I’m dead. Because I love my warrior and hybrid something fierce.
9. And on a final note, I received a review this weekend of my books, and it seriously brought the joy. The best part was the following line
[The Sanctum Trilogy] “is Harry Potter meets The Hunger Games with a twist of vampire.”
Um…hell to the yes. Thank you for making my weekend, lovely reader.
One of the best parts of this writing adventure I’ve been on is becoming friends with all of these amazing, talented, creative folks and helping them celebrate their five star reviews, launch days, and first-time publications. It’s loads of fun and I love doing it
especially when I’m doing it for a friend.
I’m one of the lucky ones, helping LJK Oliva reveal the cover for her upcoming novel, A World Apart. Not only that, I’ve got an excerpt, and it’s all kinds of awesome.
So let’s do this, bitches.
“There are things that go bump in the night, Mr. MacMillian. It’s my job to bump back.”
Private investigator Jesper MacMillian was sure he’d seen it all. After all, in a city like San Francisco, strange is what’s for breakfast. Following a long recovery after a horrific accident, his life is finally the way he wants it- or at least, close enough. The only monsters on his radar are the ones that keep him awake at night.
All that changes the day he meets Lena Alan.
Before MacMillian has a chance to brace for impact, Lena drags him into a world where monsters aren’t just real, they’re hiding in plain sight. Suddenly, everything he knows is suspect, starting with his current case. For Lena, a medium since childhood, it’s just another day at the office.
For MacMillian, it’s the beginning of the end of everything he thinks he knows.
She knew better than to try and sleep on nights like this.
Lena Alan sat up with a sigh and swung her legs over the side of her bed. A telltale itch whispered over her skin. She rubbed her arms.
Someone was trying to reach her.
She’d experienced it too many times to try and fight it. Lena eased her feet to the floor, grabbed her robe off the chair on her way out of the bedroom. Light from the retro street lamp outside bathed the living room an odd shade of orange. Across the narrow street, the neighborhood’s small park was quieter than usual.
She paused, listened. Come to think of it, everything was quieter than usual. Even once the sun went down and the fog rolled in, San Francisco always hummed with constant, mid-grade energy.
Not tonight. The neighbors’ bipolar taco terrier wasn’t even barking.
Lena sighed and made for the kitchen. Only one thing could make her feel better about being awake at the crack of insanity. She plucked the kettle off the stove and stood in front of the sink, willing herself into a kind of waking sleep while it filled with water. Finally, she turned back around. Her eye drifted to the glowing digital display on the microwave above the stove.
She flicked on the burner and set the kettle over the flame. Pleasure swelled briefly in her chest. All through her twenties, standing in front of one shitty electric stove after another, she’d promised herself someday she would do better.
Not that she’d settled on this place for the gas stove. The instant she realized the restaurant space downstairs came with its own apartment, that had been it. Never mind the leaky roof, the shitty insulation, the sometimes overly-raucous drunks who made the park their headquarters most days. The instant she’d turned the key in the lock, she’d known she was home.
Lena smiled to herself and opened the cupboard next to the stove. A wall of small, cheerful boxes greeted her. Suddenly, being awake didn’t seem so bad. She scanned the familiar names. What was a good sipping blend for the witching hour? Lapsang Suchong? Too exotic. English Breakfast Tea? Too early. Irish Breakfast Tea? Too late.
The kettle started to whistle, and she settled on Lady Grey. Even the box was soothing: a rich, royal blue. Lena popped it open, retrieved her favorite cup from the ledge over the sink and deposited a small, fragrant bag into the bowl. She wandered back to the stove.
The familiar motions felt almost meditative: turn off the flame, lift the kettle, fill the cup to the brim. The herbal, citrus-y scent of black tea and bergamot flooded the kitchen. Lena sighed, not with resignation this time. Gingerly, she carried the cup out to the living room, settled into her favorite chair, curled her legs up underneath her.
When not sweating blood over the keyboard, Laura Oliva is a full-time mom, wife, amateur chef, gardener, and (non)recovering clotheshorse. Laura lives in Northern California with her young son and her remarkably patient husband.
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This is a blog train, and there are more excerpts to read!
1st Stop: L.J.K. Oliva Books
2nd Stop: Madhuri Blaylock Writes
3rd Stop: Home of A.L. Kessler
4th Stop: In A Pursuit of Publishness
5th Stop: Mia Bishop- Author, Artist, Dreamer
6th Stop: The Self-Publishing Experiment
7th Stop: The Darker Side
8th Stop: Write Bitches
Hit all the stops to read A World Apart up through Chapter 2!