AJ Nuest: Amazing Author of The Golden Key Legacy

I am so honored to know fellow author AJ Nuest. If you are wanting a thrill ride then read her books. They take you to a place where you can unravel. Take a look:

I'm so excited to announce the fabulous cover reveal for...

THE GOLDEN KEY LEGACY

a fantasy romance serial novel from HarperImpulse

The Golden Key Legacy, Book I: A

Furious Muse

~Available November 27, 2014~

Since the day of her birth, Princess Faedrah Austiere has been defined by he place within the kingdom. As the single heir to the half-blood gypsy king and his prophesied white queen, she is fiercely protected, shuttered inside an ivory castle and well-trained in the art of war. Yet neither her obligations as future queen nor the black infestation threatening her kingdom fail to hinder the mysterious pull of the antique armoire hidden in her parents' bedchamber. And stealing the golden key for a leap through time is the only way to confront the dark lord haunting her dreams.

One

face. The image of one defiant, relentless woman has been stuck in Rhys

McEleod’s head ever since he was old enough to paint her luscious curves on the

canvas. But the day she walks into his life off the street—sexier than hell and

itching for a fight—he’s not convinced she’s the same women he’s envisioned

since childhood. That is, not until he spots the golden key around her neck—an

object he’d never fully shown in any of his paintings.

Now

if he could just persuade his lovely muse he’s not the enemy. Unless the

elusive Faedrah Austiere learns to trust him, he’ll never have her in his

bed—the one place he’s convinced she belongs.

PRE-ORDER YOUR $0.99 COPY TODAY:  AMAZON / AMAZONUK

The Golden Key Legacy, Book II: The

Sacrifice

~Available December 18, 2014~

The

second Faedrah Austiere walked into his life off the canvas, everything in Rhys

McEleod’s world stopped making sense. Not only does her story sound like a

Grimm’s fairy tale, evidently he’s been cast as the villain. If that isn’t

enough, the mirror inside that old, beat up armoire at her uncle’s condo is

supposedly a doorway to another world. Ever since the pathway opened, something

inside him has seemed…off. If what his muse says is true, they are headed for

an epic showdown, but he isn’t about to let her go. Nothing is more important than

Faedrah’s protection, even if her parents refuse to accept him.  

Though

certain their fates are bound by more than the golden key Princess Faedrah

wears around her neck, it is paramount Rhys’ true identity be kept secret.

Should news of his bloodline ever reach her kingdom, their entire quest to save

her people could be lost. Their only hope to prove his loyalty is to steal the

map to the dark lord’s Crystal Crypt. Yet her a plan endangers her beloved more

than the accusations he faces in her kingdom and, to escape evil’s grasp, she

and Rhys must take a leap of faith beyond her wildest imagination. 

PRE-ORDER YOUR $0.99 COPY TODAY:  AMAZON / AMAZONUK

The Golden Key Legacy, Book III: A Wizard Rises

~Available January 29, 2015~

The

homecoming celebration held in honor of Princess Faedrah is fraught with

perilous frustration. Her nightmares have returned thricefold and, to her

horror, a horrendous blight has spread like a plague throughout the kingdom. Compounding

her worries, Rhys’ arrival in her world has been welcomed with the exact horror-filled

reaction she expected. Her beloved has been cast into the dungeons, and no amount

of arguing with the king and queen will prove he’s her fated love.

Magical

powers were supposed to be a gift, or so Rhys McEleod had always believed. Too

bad the second he landed in Faedrah’s world the legacy he inherited slammed

into his body like a weight. He’s got zero control and his constant visions of

Faedrah fighting an evil entity aren’t helping. At least her parents made the

right decision and stuck him away someplace safe. Until he can figure out his next

move, prove himself an ally and uncover the clues to stopping Faedrah’s

nightmares, he’s got no choice but to wait…and learn exactly what he’s become.

PRE-ORDER YOUR $0.99 COPY TODAY:  AMAZON / AMAZONUK

The Golden Key Legacy, Book IV: A

Time of Reckoning

~Available February 26, 2015~

Rhys

had one job to do. One measly errand that shouldn’t have been a problem, given

the nature of his powers. But when an old enemy reappears, detailing the result

of his actions, Rhys is forced to make a choice between a future with Faedrah

or dying before his time. Frustrated and out of options, he agrees to her

suggestion they to leap forward in time to the future…even though a good chance

exists his powers will be nothing but a memory in his world. Flying blind on a

wing and a prayer, they prepare to fight for everything they love against a

wizard of insurmountable power.

Faedrah

does her best to gather their closest allies. The sides are squared in a war to

control the future of both worlds. With the stakes so high, only one advantage

has been cast in their favor. The sigil of utmost protection inherent in Rhys’

signature. If not enough to thwart the evil awaiting at the Austiere gates, she

could find herself imprisoned in the future, while her kingdom and all those

she has sworn to protect are lost to the mists of time.

PRE-ORDER YOUR $0.99 COPY TODAY:  AMAZON / AMAZONUK

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Chapter 3 Fire Up Your Fiction

Once again Jodie Renner's book, "Fire Up Your Fiction," has brought so much knowledge to me...Chapter 3 is titled, Show, don't tell and she offers great techniques for every writer...

Check it out and until next time....

Guardian of the Dream Catcher,
Melinda

Creator guides me

Creator guide and protect my family…..We are only creatures on this earth and we need your guidance…..

 

Melinda

"Fire Up Your Fiction"

Today is Chapter 3: Show, Don't Tell.... in "Fire Up Your Fiction," Great chapter showing you how to show don't tell. This book offers so much in each chapter. Explains how to use deep POV and also evoking all five senses....Remarkable....

Check it out.....buy the book...

Guardian of the Dream Catcher,
Melinda

"Fire up Your Fiction" Chapter 2

Yesterday I told you about an amazing writer's book and I will continue each chapter as I read them. In chapter two titled, "Your first pages are critical" showed me so many new techniques to use for my hook. The hook is very important...You want to grab your audiences attention and this Do's and Don't list helps you to figure out what you should do.....Check the book out its worth its weight in gold.

Until tomorrow....


Guardian of the Dream Catcher,
Melinda

Blood On The Feather

My reading list...

I want to share what I am currently reading. I think this book will help all fiction writer. "Fire Up Your Fiction: An Editor's Guide to Writing Compelling Stories," by Jodie Renner is an exciting read.

Part 1-Write to Engage
Chapter 1-Zoom Out First-Slash or Fix those Boring Scenes...

I loved this chapter is showed me things I need to do as a writer. I think if you read it then you will increase your knowledge and understanding of writing.

Stay tuned.....I will be back tomorrow with another snippet from her book.

Thank you Jodie....You opened my eyes to a new way of thinking.....

Guardian of the Dream Catcher,
Melinda

In Writing Cave

I sit at my desk writing away. I feel a sense of excitement as I write each word. Soon the manuscript will be done and I will ship it off. I hope my fans will enjoy this book as much as I have had writing it. There are times I want to give up but then I hear my precious Tommy whisper in my ear...."Keep going, Linda it will be great."  So, I keep writing.....

Guardian of the Dream Catcher,
Melinda

Spot Writer....Cathy MacKenzie

The theme of this week (“I’m so cold my bones have frozen”) is appropriate, as winter temperatures seem to be here forever, at least for author Cathy MacKenzie. Her most recent publication, BETWEEN THESE PAGES, is a compilation of 18 short stories. The book is available on Amazon and Smashwords:

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/329083

http://www.amazon.com/Between-These-Pages-ebook/dp/B00DP3RDOA/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1372780978&sr=1-1&keywords=Between+These+Pages

Frozen in Time

Until Vivian heard her husband’s voice, she wondered if she had actually spoken.

“What?” John said.

Despite the cold, warm relief rushed through her body at his reply. She yearned to touch him, but her arms were bolted to her sides. Icy crisps filled her mouth when she attempted to speak, but she made another attempt.

"So cold. Freezing."

"You're always cold," John said.

“No, it’s truly cold, John. It is. So cold I can barely breathe." She swallowed more frosty crystals, which melted as they cruelly descended down her throat. John was a raging furnace, especially in bed, unlike Vivian who was continually chilled and craved his warmth on winter nights. A vision of the two of them snuggling in bed formed before her.

Panic set in when he didn't reply. "Can you hear me? John?”

“I hear you.”

“Cold. Very cold. Where are you?” Vivian said. The arctic hardness weighting her down was colder and longer-lasting than any other she had experienced. She hated the cold, always had.

“Vivian?”

“I’m here. Can’t see.” Though it took great effort to open her mouth and Vivian felt she should conserve her energy, she had to talk to her husband. Had to know he was near despite the glacial dankness.

Vivian heard a muffled reply. At least she thought she did. Had he spoken? Why couldn't she see him?

“Can you see me?” she said.

In the muted silence, time remained still. Frozen. Could they be? Or was it just her? Vivian remembered the day—or thought she had. Had she and John gone skiing, as they usually did on the weekends? It was still winter, right? To whom was she talking? Was John there?

"John?"

"I'm here."

"What's happening? Where are we?"

"I…not sure,” he said, hesitation and uncertainty obvious in his voice.

"Are we in a dream? Am I dreaming? I can usually wake myself out of a dream, when I want to. I want to now. But I can't."

“Vivian, that's hogwash. If you can do that, then you're not really asleep. I've told you that before."   

“Just humour me. Try to wake yourself up, John.”

Vivian heard nothing in response but the cold. Could one hear cold? Certain she could, she shivered though tightly encased in her arctic prison. Pressure numbed her ears as liquid trudged down her eardrums.

John was trying to wake up, she knew it. Both of them must awake from the horrid dream they were immersed in. But when had they ever shared the same nightmare? When had they ever discussed dreaming within a dream?

“No, I’m still awake,” John said. “Or asleep. Whatever I am. Nothing’s changed.”

Vivian would have sighed in desperate resignation, had she been able to. But a swallow of another clump of ice crisps was all she could muster.

“Vivian...I...love...”

Silence ruled. Although it seemed a lifetime elapsed, Vivian knew it was merely minutes. How could a life pass by that fast?

“Vivian, you there?” John’s voice sounded weaker.

“Yes...here. But... I’m sinking, John. Sinking somewhere...not sure where... I...” She closed her mouth, then parted her lips. The life sucked from her. Although unable to utter her last words—“I’m so cold my bones have frozen”—she suspected John already knew.

***

The Spot Writers- our members: 

RC Bonitz
http://www.rcbonitz.com

Val Muller
http://www.valmuller.com/blog/

Catherine A. MacKenzie
http://writingwicket.wordpress.com/wicker-chitter/

Melinda Elmore
http://www.authormelindaelmore.blogspot.com/

The Spot Writers-RC Bonitz

Welcome to the Spot Writers. This week the prompt is "I'm so cold my bones have frozen."

Today's contribution comes from RC Bonitz, author of A LITTLE BIT OF BLACKMAIL, A LITTLE BIT OF BABY, and A BLANKET FOR HER HEART.  

Next week's story will be by Val Muller, author of FOR WHOM MY HEART BEATS ETERNAL, a sci-fi romance, and CORGI CAPERS: DECEIT ON DORSET DRIVE, a mystery novel for young readers.

Winter Surprise

He parked his truck and stepped out into the swirling snow. Trapping and releasing pesky beavers for the state was fun, normally. He loved the time he was able to spend in the woods, normally. But today the temperature was darn near zero and the wind bit right through his coat. Couldn't leave the beaver trapped too long though, had to pick them up.

Starting down the trail he thought he heard someone shout for help. There, ahead, next to a tree. A woman, crying out. No hat, just a sweater and a vest, what was she thinking on a day like this.

"Help me, please, call 911," she cried.

He stopped in front of her. She was tied to the tree? And the vest? It couldn't be. A bomb? He shook his head. This was no dream.

"My phone doesn't work here. That is a bomb, right?"

She sobbed. "He said it would go off at noon. What time is it?"

"About eleven thirty."

"Oh God, help me please."

He examined the vest. Bombs he knew nothing about, but electrical stuff he did. And he had wire in the truck. "who put you in that thing?"

"A wanna be boyfriend. A weirdo."

"You turned him down?"

"Yes. Please hurry. I'm scared."

"Cold too I'll bet."

"I'm so cold my bones are frozen, but that doesn't matter."

"Be right back," he said and hurried back to his truck. He returned a moment later with some wire and a knife.

She was crying now.

"Hey, don't cry. Your tears will freeze,"

She giggled. "They're tears of relief."

He nodded, hoping the tears were justified. He had an idea how to free her but who knew if it would work. He began to trace the wires that ran from place to place.

"Have you got a blanket?" she pleaded.

"No, and I can't cover you up. I have to see all the wires on you."

"What are you going to do?" she asked in a small voice.

"Try to get you out of the vest."

"What about the bomb?"

He gave her a lopsided grin. "I don't think it will go off."

"You don't know?" she whispered.

Nope," he said and began to scrape a wire with his knife.

The Spot Writers- our members: 

RC Bonitz
http://www.rcbonitz.com

Val Muller
http://www.valmuller.com/blog/

Catherine A. MacKenzie
http://writingwicket.wordpress.com/wicker-chitter/

Melinda Elmore
http://www.authormelindaelmore.blogspot.com/

My friend and great writer Aimee Thurlo passed away....

My friend and great writer Aimee Thurlo passed away....I have some of her books and I love them....I will treasure them forever....Here is the letter her husband posted on Facebook...

I'm sorry to have to send this news in such an impersonal way to all our friends, but I'm having a hard time even writing about it. 

Aimée died peacefully in her sleep last Friday morning, at home, with me at her side. 

We'd been working together on book revisions, side by side with our laptops on the daybed, when, on Valentine's Day, we got a call from one of her doctors. The problems she's been experiencing were due to the rapid progression of undiagnosed cancer, and she had about two weeks left.

We talked for hours, and finally Aimée asked me to support her decision to die at home.

I've loved her for forty three years and the decision was both difficult and easy. We spent our remaining two weeks together, and for that opportunity I'm grateful. She suffered very little at the end. Now Aimée's at peace now among the angels, with her beloved companion, Gabriel to keep her company.

She's also in my heart, forever.

David


It has saddened me today to learn of this and my prayers are with David and his family. I truly adored Aimee and she and I talked a lot on Facebook. I have several of her books that she mailed me with her autograph...forever treasured and cherished. I will miss you Aimee....

Walk in harmony,
Melinda Elmore

Spot Writers......

My favorite colour tastes like…..

This month’s challenge is to write something beginning with “My favorite colour tastes like…”

Today’s writing comes to us from Melinda Elmore. Her most recent publication, Blood on the Feather and Shall We Dance, is mixture of mystery and murder and a sweet Halloween tale. The books are available on Amazon and my publisher, Dancing with Bear Publishing.

“My favorite colour tastes like…”

My favorite colour tastes like….

The dew on a new morning leaf

The sparkling drops tingles the mouth

Leaving one to mesmerize the taste across their lips.

My favorite colour tastes like….a Hersey’s Kiss….

Chocolaty, divine….never-ending…..

Melts in the mouth from the warmth of the sensations

My favorite colour tastes like…an Arizona sunset

Full of color and breathtaking…..

My favorite colour tastes like…..

The sound of the flute…..

Soothing and musical.

My favorite colour tastes like….

My family….

Full of unconditional love.

My favorite colour tastes like….

Love….

Heart feeling and full of emotions.

My favorite colour tastes like….

Friendship…

Being there for everybody you can…

My favorite colour tastes like…..

Life….

Full of vibrant sensations for total enjoyment.

The Spot Writers- our members: 

RC Bonitz
http://www.rcbonitz.com

Val Muller
http://www.valmuller.com/blog/

Catherine A. MacKenzie
http://writingwicket.wordpress.com/wicker-chitter/

Melinda Elmore
http://www.authormelindaelmore.blogspot.com/

My Favorite Colour tastes like.....by Cathy MacKenzie

This month’s challenge is to write something beginning with “My favorite colour tastes like…”

Today’s writing comes to us from Cathy MacKenzie. Her most recent publication, BETWEEN THESE PAGES, is a compilation of 18 short stories. The book is available on Amazon and Smashwords.

 My Favourite Colour

.

My favourite colour tastes like death and demise,

the evil that lingers behind the light at night

.

It’s the dark in the day and shades of grey

of living and dying

.

It’s hard and firm, chokes one up

and leaves a film upon one’s tongue

that lashes out at all in sight

.

It’s the soiled, the wicked,

the disastrous, the disgraceful,

the dishonourable

.

It’s grim and hopeless, angry,

illegal and sinister,

the Devil in all of us

.

It’s the dank in the darkness,

the smell of skunk and

spiders, dead and alive

.

It’s a pelt marred by a steak of white

like lightning rushing through the night

to wake the dead

.

It’s six feet under in a rotten pine box

so cheaply made, disintegrating

and disappearing to dust

.

It’s the bits that fly in the air

when a body sleeps

and stirs to shake off the fallen unknown

.

It’s morning before the sun

when dusk still prevails

and eyes can’t adjust to the slew

of shadows swarming by

.

It’s when dawn tries to open its eyes

and yawns a morning sigh

and awakens those

who dream of nightmares

.

Its name is known and it’s the doom,

the evil that takes over the good—

Satan in the garden

who spews and stills the world

.

I’ll come for you when your time is due

and you can’t stop the pitch,

the coal, the burning coal,

or the enemy who seeks to destroy

.

You must wait for day to wake

to brush away the cold

.

My name is Black

and I may leave,

but I’ll be back.

* * *

The Spot Writers – our members:

RC Bonitz

http://www.rcbonitz.com

Val Muller

http://www.valmuller.com/blog/

Catherine A. MacKenzie

http://writingwicket.wordpress.com/wicker-chitter/

Melinda Elmore

http://www.authormelindaelmore.blogspot.com/

Too Late....By RC Bonitz

This week's post comes from RC Bonitz, author of A Blanket for Her Heart. The theme is once again- "My favorite color is x and it tastes like…"

Too Late

I hate it when I wake up in the middle of the night like this. Something, a noise, whatever drags me out of sleep and then I can't get back to dreamland for hours.

Light from the street steals around the edges of the blinds, casting phantom shapes and shadows in my bedroom. Freaks me out sometimes, especially when the house creaks too.

What was that? Something sliding, a window, the glass door in the family room? I'm awake now, yes I am. There's silence again, did I imagine the noise? No!

Footsteps now, sneaky, moving through the house? This can't be happening, must be my imagination, has to be a dream.

The floor creaks, the kitchen door squeaks, oh God, someone's in my house! I grab the bedside phone. Too late, it's dead!

I have to get away. I throw back the covers and jump from my bed. I'll go out the window, quiet as I can. Or should I shout and try to scare him off? Too late, the bedroom door swings open and the light goes on. He's there, a man, dressed in black, a very shiny knife in his hand.

He smiles, an evil, vicious smile it is. "Well, well, what have we here."

"Go away. I called the police," I shriek.

"Not on that phone you didn't"

I'm trembling, shaking, scared to death. There's something about this guy. "What do you want? Take anything, I don't care."

His smile becomes more sinister. "Don't worry I will. What's your favorite color?"

"What?"

He glances around the room. "Looks like you like blue I guess. Dull color if you ask me."

I'm shaking now. What an insane question.

He takes a step closer, and then another. "Now me, my favorite color is red. Have you ever tasted red?"

I try to back away, but he matches me step for step. I'm up against the wall now. "What? No, I don't know."

: Sure you have. Wine, jelly, tomato. Now me, I like something stronger. Bet you can't guess what."

I can't speak, can only shake my head.

He switches now and simply stares at me. I cringe, my heart stops at the evil in his eyes.

"Blood," he says, so softly I can barely hear him.

He takes one more step closer and swishes the knife through the air, back and forth in front of me, coming closer all the time. "I'm not a vampire. I just like the taste of blood."

This can't be real, must be a dream, but he's right there in front of me. The knife comes slashing at my throat. I throw up my hands to block it. Too late, oh God, too late.

Salt By Val Muller

This month’s challenge is to write a story beginning with “My favorite color tastes like…” Today’s story comes to us from Val Muller, author of the Corgi Capers mystery series and the supernatural chiller Faulkner’s Apprentice. The story below is written in the voice of a rebellious protagonist riling up the crowd in one of her works-in-progress, The Salt Rebellion.

* * *

Salt

By Val Muller

My favorite color tastes like salt. White is the color of salt, after all. But my favorite color, the white I’m thinking of, isn’t the color of innocence or purity, if that’s what you’re thinking. Brides and baptized babies and all that. No. That is not my favorite color. Brides and babies are white by default. White by inaction.

Inaction can never be my favorite color.

My favorite color is the color of salt. Salt as in sweat and tears.

Action.

Think of what power salt has. It renders the ocean habitable to countless creatures. It balances our metabolisms, aiding water in its vital purpose. Salt aids our palate, taking the plain and ordinary and bringing out flavors inertly buried.

We all contain flavors inertly buried. Dreams, goals, desires, thoughts. We all have a purpose, something we were made for, and yet in a place as bland as this, we wander about unsalted. We grow complacent and look beyond ourselves for the spice that makes life worth living. But true joy cannot come from without. That is not the place for greatness.

True joy—the ingredient of greatness—must come from within, and we must be allowed to draw it out. May salt leave its streaky white trails on our cheeks, but we must be allowed to draw ourselves out from within our shells.

Perhaps this is why salt is not allowed here.

Perhaps there are those who do not want us to find happiness from within. Perhaps there are those who already live without and wish for us to seek joy in the externalities they can deliver. Perhaps there are those who have only power to gain from our unhappiness, from our weakness.

From our inaction.

Salt is the color of action. Its whiteness is the color of diligence, of work. A white piece of cloth will only remain so through diligence and care. So, too, our freedoms. Ignored and neglected, our freedoms will turn a dirty white, then a dingy dung, a soiled soot until no trace of its whiteness is left as a testament to its former glory.

So I say hold out for salt. Hold out for joy. Hold out for greatness. Don’t let our whiteness be sullied by the gentle agony of inaction. Fight back and persevere until you taste the salt of tears and sweat and action.

* * *

The Spot Writers- our members: 

RC Bonitz
http://www.rcbonitz.com

Val Muller
http://www.valmuller.com/blog/

Catherine A. MacKenzie
http://writingwicket.wordpress.com/wicker-chitter/

Melinda Elmore
http://www.authormelindaelmore.blogspot.com/