Love Lies Bleeding FREE via amazon #kindle

My novella, Love Lies Bleeding, can be downloaded for free today and tomorrow (Oct 27 & 28) via your Kindle reader or app. If you do grab it for free over the next two days, I would love to hear what you think of it … the novella in itself is a bit of an experiment for me, as it is the first time I have attempted to translate one of the my screenplays into narrative form.

Genre: Horror/Comedy/Romance

Synopsis: Pamela just wants to reunite in the afterlife with her dead fiancé, Grady. Problem is, Grady was a secret agent, and his coded emails have infuriated both his employers and his enemies. They need Pamela alive. So, instead of her planned suicide, she is kidnapped by black ops agents, tortured by mobster warlords, hunted by a psychotic killer, and chased by zombies … all necessary evils in order to ultimately walk into the sunset with her true love.

WARNING: Love Lies Bleeding is a darkly comedic, bloody romance about love conquering all, even death. This is NOT a young adult novel. It contains graphic violence, nasty language, and more than a little bit of flesh eating. There are no soft kisses, soulful stares, or moonlit rainstorms.

The novella is approximately 28,000 words, and currently followed by a twelve-chapter excerpt from the novel, After The Virus.

LinksAmazon US & Amazon UK & Amazon Germany & Amazon France & Amazon Spain & Amazon Italy & Amazon Japan

My favourite quotes:

“Denial was Erwin’s friend, and favorite vacation spot.” – Chapter 4, Love Lies Bleeding

“I can’t figure out what we are playing at, good cop, bad cop, concerned nutritionists …” – Phil, Love Lies Bleeding

“Don’t worry dear. Be a good girl and you never have to find out what’s in the crate.” – Mr. Doyle, Love Lies Bleeding

“I’m just looking to match this empty shell to my departed soul.” – Pamela, Love Lies Bleeding

“I need help. Or at least directions. I’m being chased by a psycho … killer, though given the day I’ve been having I could be wrong about his intentions.” – Pamela, Love Lies Bleeding

I hope you enjoy the free read!!

Love Lies Bleeding free — today & tomorrow — via amazon #kindle

My novella, Love Lies Bleeding, can be downloaded for free today and tomorrow (Sept 29 & 30) via your Kindle reader or app. This is the first time I have offered any of my books for free, so it will be interesting to see how the free days go. If you do grab it for free over the next two days, I would love to hear what you think of it … the novella in itself is a bit of an experiment for me, as it is the first time I have attempted to translate one of the my screenplays into narrative form.

Genre: Horror/Comedy/Romance

Synopsis: Pamela just wants to reunite in the afterlife with her dead fiancé, Grady. Problem is, Grady was a secret agent, and his coded emails have infuriated both his employers and his enemies. They need Pamela alive. So, instead of her planned suicide, she is kidnapped by black ops agents, tortured by mobster warlords, hunted by a psychotic killer, and chased by zombies … all necessary evils in order to ultimately walk into the sunset with her true love.

WARNING: Love Lies Bleeding is a darkly comedic, bloody romance about love conquering all, even death. This is NOT a young adult novel. It contains graphic violence, nasty language, and more than a little bit of flesh eating. There are no soft kisses, soulful stares, or moonlit rainstorms.

The novella is approximately 28,000 words, and currently followed by a twelve-chapter excerpt from the novel, After The Virus.

Links: (available via all 6 stores): Amazon US & Amazon UK

My favourite quotes:

“Denial was Erwin’s friend, and favorite vacation spot.” – Chapter 4, Love Lies Bleeding

“I can’t figure out what we are playing at, good cop, bad cop, concerned nutritionists …” – Phil, Love Lies Bleeding

“Don’t worry dear. Be a good girl and you never have to find out what’s in the crate.” – Mr. Doyle, Love Lies Bleeding

“I’m just looking to match this empty shell to my departed soul.” – Pamela, Love Lies Bleeding

“I need help. Or at least directions. I’m being chased by a psycho … killer, though given the day I’ve been having I could be wrong about his intentions.” – Pamela, Love Lies Bleeding

I hope you enjoy the free read!!

Hmmm, bon bons …

I just exchanged the following series of texts with Michael:

Me: Finished the final pass on LLB*. It’s pretty clean. Only minor corrections needed. I should be able to upload it tomorrow.

Michael: Fantastic baby.

Me: Yeah!! Happy.

Michael: You should be. You’ve been working really hard this year.

Me: Really? Seems like playing. You work hard!!

Michael: Still. It’s not like you have a secretary taking diction while you lounge on the sofa eating chocolate. Oops. I hope I didn’t just give you any ideas for the future.

Me: Hmmm, bon bons…

Michael: Crap. Now you’re going to work twice as hard if you have that dream in your sights.

Me: Maybe I could dictate while knitting. Or doing Pilates. Maybe someone could just follow me around and record my every word. How riveting would THAT be??!

Michael: I’ve created a monster.

———

*Note: LLB refers to my soon-to-be-released novella, Love Lies Bleeding.

Insightful blog posts?

I don’t write insightful or instructive blog posts.

I read a lot of blogs. I follow all the news about filmmaking or publishing or writing – whatever I happen to be interested in that day – but I don’t write them. It doesn’t really occur to me to share my opinion on such things as self-publishing, or buying book reviews, or ebooks in libraries, or the latest controversy. I twitter or facebook the posts I find most interesting and then shut down my browser and focus on writing whatever I am working on …

It has just occurred to me this morning that perhaps this is odd. Is it odd that I am not more “opinion-ly” active? Is it odd that I while I appreciate other people’s opinions, and use their blogs to keep myself vaguely informed, I don’t offer any of my own insights in return?

It’s not that I don’t have opinions on what makes a good story (structure) interesting (action) and engaging (kick ass characters), but that I rarely think to share them beyond a few guest blog posts, etc. It’s not that I am not trying to figure out how to position myself in the market and get more readers’ eyes on my books. And it’s not that I don’t have any experience to bring to the table, though most of that experience is in independent filmmaking in Canada and screenwriting.

To me writing is intense, all-encompassing.

At first, it is just about getting the story out of my head with as much focus as possible, and yet also being free enough to let the character or plot take me where it will within the structure I’ve provided. I often feel utterly empty after a few hours of writing on this level. Devoid of opinion … or even complete sentences.

Then, the next drafts are about making sure that each beat rolls into the next smoothly … with just enough information but not too much.

Then, editing. Is this word the right one? Is it simple enough that anyone will understand what the character feels or thinks, but complex enough to encompass everything I am trying to say or imply?

I write my heart, my fears, my dreams, and my aspirations into each story. All cloaked in the fictional world I’ve envisioned. I laugh … I cry … I fall in love – just a little bit – with scenes I had no idea I was going to write.

I don’t try to be insightful.

I see the story. I write it. I refine it as best I can.

And, at the end of the day or week, that is all I have. Just whatever words have made it on to the page.

I have nothing else to give, but these stories or movies. No opinions or insights, no matter that I would love to write engaging and interesting blog posts. I guess I have nothing much to say about anything else other than whatever story I am constructing.

Unless it’s a picture of a cat attempting to impede my writing, I have been known to snap a few of those. Such as: Leo in the blueberry box, Darby sleeping on a manuscript, or cats ruling the world. But I have a feeling those posts don’t count at all … not on an “insightful” level. My Facebook friends seem to like these posts the best though, and honestly so do I.

I guess this makes me kind of boring.

Sorry about that.

Maybe you’ll find one of my books or films more interesting … that is always the hope.

Spirit Binder Blog Tour

Starting today Spirit Binder will be on a one week blog tour hosted by Bewitching Book Tours. I’ll update with direct links as the posts go live.

Here is the current schedule:

July 20 Behind A Million And One Pages

Guest blog – Post 1: What Inspired Spirit Binder: Opening Scenes

July 21 Book Nerd Revealed

Promotional Stop – Excerpt

July 21 Crossroads

Promo and review

July 22 Reader Girls

Guest blog – Post 2: What Inspired Spirit Binder: The World

July 22 Happy Tails & Tales

Review & Interview

July 22 Coffee Addicted Writer

Promo

July 23 Book on the Bright Side

Guest blog – Post 3: What Inspired Spirit Binder: Character Names

July 23 Mila Ramos, Paranormal & Contemporary Romance

Promo & Excerpt

July 24 It’s A Hardcover Life

Guest blog – Post 4: What Inspired Spirit Binder: Settings/Locations

July 25 A Bibliophile’s Thoughts on Books

Guest blog – Post 5: What Inspired Spirit Binder: Theme

July 26 Chapter by Chapter

Promo

July 27 Manga Maniac Café

Interview

The Anatomy of a Book Cover

Irene Langholm recently re-envisioned the book cover for After The Virus and the amount of work she put into it was crazy and amazing at the same time. So I thought you all might like to see what an artist does when pitched a basic plot from an author … through concept … to completion.

I am absolutely infatuated with the finished product, BTW (in case there was any lingering doubt). Click the image to get a closer look:

The Anatomy of a Book Cover – After The Virus –  by Irene Langholm

Finished cover and sources:

http://irenelangholm.deviantart.com/art/After-the-Virus-310887976

Stock used:
http://freetextures.deviantart.com/art/Texture10-asphalt-67439625
http://waxsphere-stock.deviantart.com/art/asphalt-stock-50308707
http://arkaydo.deviantart.com/art/asphalt-texture-171800902
http://darkrose42-stock.deviantart.com/art/Army-56617154
http://pendlestock.deviantart.com/art/Fossil-120329445
http://hatestock.deviantart.com/art/Paper-stock-9-91944104
http://bashcorpo.deviantart.com/art/Grungy-paper-texture-v-1-22965919
http://agent-kstock.deviantart.com/art/snowy-mountains-75365193
http://hoschie-stock.deviantart.com/art/street-47084536
http://rml-stock.deviantart.com/art/Street-Stock-05-75324962
http://sirius-sdz.deviantart.com/art/texture-100-106021598
http://babybird-stock.deviantart.com/art/White-crumbled-paper-texture-48496295

Spirit Binder – book cover reveal

Here is the cover for my next novel, Spirit Binder. I absolutely LOVE it. Irene Langholm, the artist, is currently working on a cover for the print version of After The Virus (hopefully available in July 2012).

Spirit Binder is a fantasy set a thousand years after spirit (aka magic) rises to take back the world in an apocalyptic event. It is book one of the Cascadian Chronicles. The second book, Time Walker, is a young adult novel and will be released in the fall of 2012.

Available as an ebook June 2012 and in print July 2012

Synopsis: Theo woke severely injured, covered in blood, and missing ten years of her life. Just to complicate matters further, Theo was born under a prophecy — one that has rabid followers with three different interpretations, all of whom are willing to sacrifice her in order to fulfill it. Not knowing if she can trust the stranger she’s betrothed to, the warrior visiting her dreams, or even her own mother, Theo tries to piece together her past only to find that her present is far more dangerous. It’s the power of her own blood that scares her most of all. This is a responsibility Theo never wanted, and a destiny she cannot deny, “all because of a prophecy she was trying not to believe in, but kept fulfilling.”

ARCs currently available for reviewers upon request

ETA: May 28, 2012 – we changed up the font treatment. Here is the updated version.

A Review of Suzie Ivy’s, Bad Luck Officer

Suzie Ivy is a hero. She doesn’t wear a cape or have super powers. She’s an everyday hero. She started out as a normal person, with a normal life – a job, kids, husband, and home, just like the rest of us. Then one day, while suffering a broken hip at age 45, she decided she wanted to try to make the world a better a place. Instead of joining a charity, or feeding the homeless, she decided to become a police officer in a small town that had never had a female police officer, and certainly had no idea what to do with a 45-year-old woman, with grown children, who wanted to help enforce the law.

So, she became a cadet, and passed.

Then, she started blogging about it

Then, she worked her ass off for another two years, and got promoted to detective. As she was corralling bulls, dealing with chronic, problem whistle-blowers, and ignoring (some) rather unpleasant and sexist workplace behavior, she also protected abused wives and molested children.

Suzie chose this path. She believed she could make a difference, and she does, everyday. Everyday she puts on her badge and does her best to protect those who need protecting – even if they choose to put themselves in danger.

She slogs through mountains of paperwork, a justice system that seems to protect the rights of the offender more often than the victim, and stupid people, who have no idea you don’t ask a police officer to drive your son to school because he missed the bus.

She hunts predators and looks forward to the day she can slap her pink handcuffs on them.

And, as often as she can, she tries to laugh about it all.

Suzie Ivy is a hero. Read her books. Laugh, cry, and be thankful there are people like her looking out for us. I really hope there is at least one of her on the Vancouver Police Force.

5 stars through and through – I highly recommend this memoir!

Read my review of Suzie’s first book, Bad Luck Cadet.

Favourite Bad Luck Officer quotes

“I had received a t-shirt from my best friend Veronica at my police academy graduation. It reads, ‘Throw your donut in the opposite direction and the cops won’t get you.’ I love wearing that t-shirt.”

“Now I’ve had it with whoever has the shitting squirts and is spraying all over the toilet, For God’s sake, clean up after yourself or eat something that gives you firmer bowel movement. I don’t want to bring this up again, understood?”

“Another note to self; turn cellphone to silent when you’re trying to be sneaky.”

“I’m old enough to be your mother, I’m happily married and if you ever put your dick anywhere near my mouth I’ll bite it off. Are we clear?!”

“When my fight with the naked Sarah started we were in front of my vehicle, so everything was caught on tape. The only thing that would have made it more entertaining for the guys was if we had added mud to the altercation.”

“I cried that night. I knew I couldn’t help everyone, but how do you give up on a ten year old kid. I couldn’t”

“Even sentenced to twenty-five years in prison Ted didn’t get what he deserved. Maybe his prison mates would give it to him.”

#SampleSunday – After The Virus, Chapter 12:

Over the next 12 weeks I will be sharing a chapter of my novel After The Virus  each sunday. Warning: for coarse language and brutal content. This is a post-apocalyptic love story. I hope you enjoy getting a peek. Feedback is welcomed and appreciated. If you are so inclined, purchase links can be found on the side bar. – Meghan

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11

——

WILL

He didn’t have a leash, so he tied a tensor bandage around B.B.’s collar. Together, they silently shifted until they had eyes on Snickers.

Snickers seemed to be scrutinizing a Vanity Fair cover, then, coming to some sort of decision, she turned as if to bring him the magazine. She’d only taken a step when she spotted him and B.B. partway down the aisle. There was chocolate smeared across one of her cheeks.

Then the army-jacketed guy grabbed her, and twisted her into a football tuck as he ripped the magazine from her little hands.

B.B. didn’t even twitch when he decided against the tensor leash — all her muscle was honed on her prey.

“Who’s this, kid? Who’s the pretty on the cover?” Army cajoled, and then slammed Snickers on his shoulder to knock her breath and fight out of her.

B.B. took him out at the knees before Army saw what hit him.

He managed to catch Snickers before she hit the linoleum face first and still stop Army from bludgeoning B.B. with his gun.

Snickers wasn’t happy to be placed to the side and he heard her pump the shotgun a split second before she got it in Army’s snarling face. He yanked the barrel up and to the side as Snickers pulled the trigger and the redirected shot took out an entire window with spray.

Army body slammed into his chest and knocked him back. He further wrenched the shotgun from Snickers’s hands as he fell, and then lost it underneath some of the shelves.

They wrestled, their footing insecure in the fallen magazines. If not for B.B. clamped to Army‘s leg, he’d be seriously outmatched. At the edge of his vision, he could see Snickers burrowing under the shelving to retrieve her gun.

Rhiannon burst through the back door like some avenging angel. Her entrance seriously distracted Army. ‘Course, he felt that way every time her saw her, so it didn’t come as a surprise to him.

He grabbed Snickers and rolled as Rhiannon spun to crack the side of Army’s skull with the butt of her gun.

Snickers scrambled from his arms to stare down at Army, who was out cold but breathing. B.B.‘s lingering snarls summed up his own feelings nicely.

“Move Will,” Rhiannon urged as she wrapped her hand around B.B.’s collar and pulled the dog away. ”There’s no way they’d miss shotgun fire.”

“They?” he groaned as he got up and followed Rhiannon out the alley door.

“Two more and one of — them — The Infected,” she warned as she soothingly smoothed Snickers’s hair and then gave the child her secondary gun.

“We get to the truck and go,” he directed, but Rhiannon just smiled, almost sweetly. “No Rhiannon, not with Snickers here,” he cautioned.

That momentarily stalled Rhiannon, but they didn’t have time for another plan before they heard footsteps, crunching glass and loud cursing coming from inside the drugstore.

“Rhiannon, you take Snickers and hide, somewhere with a big, locked door between you and them. I’ll lead them out of town,” he ordered.

“Oh, yeah? Hide the useless females?” Rhiannon growled, but he cut her off.

“No. You don’t hesitate or compromise. You’re the gunslinger here.”

She wasn’t that easily convinced.

”I need you to do this Rhiannon. Snickers will be safe with you.”

So she scooped Snickers up and was gone.

She left. Just like that. No goodbye — Christ, get your head in the game! You begged. She did. So, heart in his throat, he turned back into the store.

 ——

He almost made it to the truck before he saw it — The Infected. It was lumbering up the far sidewalk towards him. It sniffed the air in his direction and then bellowed.

He was happy he hadn’t eaten, because, despite frozen limbs, he was pretty sure he could and would throw up. It dragged two broken chains.

Two guys, one missing an ear, sprinted from around the side of the drug store after it. They shouted and actually gestured at him to flee.

He did.

Why didn’t he just climb in the Ford and drive off? Because he was an absolute, goddamn, going-to-hell idiot.

He ran; it was faster.

It didn’t care he used to be an All-Star quarterback.

It didn’t care track & field had been his yearly charity gig.

It. Wanted. His. Blood.

He didn’t know the town footprint. He made a wrong turn, but was actually able to leap the fence that blocked his way. It just tore through.

Then it had him pinned.

He noted, as he was choke-pressed against a brick building that he thought might have been the bank, that it still had a couple of fence boards on its arm.

It bit his shoulder.

He screamed. He couldn’t help it.

Then they were there, yanking at its chains, the one-eared guy cursed up a firestorm, but he couldn’t hear him for the pain of being eaten alive.

Seeing the missing ear triggered his deadened brain and he fumbled for his knife, conveniently strapped to his thigh in homage to Rhiannon, and thrust it in its ear. The blade slid in easier than he’d expected and the force of the blow dented the side of its head.

It didn’t like that, but it did drop him.

“Don’t kill it,” One Ear yelled and proved he was insane.

It cat-batted the jutting knife and got it loose along with a chunk of its brain. The mushed brain matter squelched under the knife as it hit ground. They all, including it, just stared, dumbfounded, at the goopy pile.

The pain in his shoulder focused him quicker than the others. He got the chain looped around its neck seconds before its blood lust rewoke.

It thrashed.

He had to climb onto its back to keep the chain tight, but he soon figured out that cutting off its airway had little effect.

One Ear got its attention with a blood pack.

His buddy grabbed for the chain.

It slathered the blood.

They got it, minimally, controlled.

Soon as he stepped back, One Ear had a gun to his head.

“Hurting our pal back there was unnecessary; we only have questions.”

“Army attacked. I responded,” he grimaced and glanced at the burning brand that currently was his shoulder. It wasn’t as mangled as it felt.

“Bite won’t infect you, doesn’t work like that, case you cared,” One Ear offered, as apologetic as someone could be with a gun to your head.

“Doesn’t mean it won’t kill me,” he made a sympathy play, but there was little to be had.

”Drug Mart looked well-stocked. But before you patch yourself up, like I said, we got questions. Answer nice and we won’t let our friend here have another taste,” One Ear bargained.

“This piece of real estate we’re looking for was sighted heading this way about 2 weeks ago; she’s on foot — with a dog,” One Ear’s buddy elaborated.

“Haven’t seen anyone except you-“ he started in denial, but ended in a scream, as One Ear whacked his gun, hard, across his shoulder wound.

He might have blacked out for a bit, because, when he came aware, he was on his hands and knees staring at his bile mixed with its brains.

“We’ve been gone way long,” One Ear rambled, “I’m real tried of walking ‘cause we got to drag it with us, and we’re super-low on pre-packs.”

He really didn’t feel like engaging in woe-is-me conversation so he kept quiet and listened for a way out, but One Ear wasn’t forthcoming on that topic.

“Point is, it needs feeding and, excepting your blood immunity, you’re no value to us,” One Ear finished with an almost friendly toe nudge.

He didn’t doubt the truth of those few words, but he’d never heard his self-worth laid out so precisely and with such doom saying before. One man could repopulate the earth with enough fertile women. He wasn’t that man. ‘Course, in a generation, inbreeding would be a problem. He continued to keep quiet.

It didn’t seem to be doing well without its missing brain chunk. The right side of its face was running down into its neck.

“Shit, this guy don’t know,” the buddy winged.

“Of the two of you fools, why Hal had to be the one to get his head bashed in,” One Ear griped. “He doesn’t ask questions, not about us, who we’re looking for, or it, means he knows or has heard about The Infected, about us,” One Ear explained.

“Right,” despite his agreement, Buddy didn’t get the drift.

As he hunkered down beside him, One Ear twirled his gun, once, like his wrist ached.

“You’re going to want to bind that bite, before you lose so much blood — ,” One Ear got his gun grabbed as punishment for his near friendliness. He twisted One Ear’s wrist to the breaking point, got his own finger also over the trigger and the barrel up One Ear’s rather wide nostril. One Ear was more angry than scared. It bothered him that, even with the upper hand, he just pissed people off. At least Buddy freaked out.

It, done with the packed blood, sniffed the air and started pawing the ground in his direction. One Ear smirked, ”It takes two of us to hold it.”

“How do you know, with me and my bloody wound so near, it won’t take a bite of you by mistake? It don’t seem to hold its relationships too close.”

One Ear looked uneasy at that line of reasoning and they slowly negotiated a standing position that placed One Ear’s back to it and Buddy.

“I’m just passing through, you’re just passing through,” he suggested, “we continue on, forget we met and, you two, try to not get eaten.”

“You don’t get it, Cowboy,” One Ear nasally explained. ”The Boss don’t accept no empty hands or, worse, excuses,” he indicated his lack of ear.

“Listen,” he countered, getting frustrated, “I think we — “

“They aren’t going to listen to your negotiations, Will.”  Rhiannon, armed and dangerous, stepped into the alley.

It groaned and strained at its neck chain enough that Buddy’s feet slipped a bit in the packed dirt.

He felt his blood pressure spike, but not in a good way, at Rhiannon’s appearance.

“Hello, dolly! Remember me?” One Ear practically beamed.

“Sure do,” Rhiannon answered and then, leveling her shotgun, blew Its head off.

The close range blast destroyed what was left of its brain.

It crumpled.

Buddy, shrieking, dropped the now useless chain and pawed at the splatter of brain remnants on his face.

One Ear’s mouth hung limp even as his eyes bulged. He shoved the gun away from his nose, and, still staring at it on the ground, let out a keening moan.

In a step, Rhiannon had Buddy knocked down with her foot on his chest.

“Will, have you got the asshole covered or not?” she demanded.

One Ear had fallen to his knees by it and seemed to be having some sort of breakdown. He began wailing and practically foaming at the mouth.

“Jesus, oh, Jesus, oh Jesus,” Buddy, completely terrified of One Ear’s behavior, blubbered. He didn’t get what the hell was going on either.

Even Rhiannon was thrown and, characteristically, she responded with anger, ”Fuck, asshole. It was already dead. I did it a fucking favor.”

One Ear shut up. He just stopped — wailing, moving, everything. Even the echo of his howls abandoned the alley. Then, finally, One Ear turned his red, deadened eyes to Rhiannon. She met his gaze.

“It was my brother,” he said, “you killed my brother.”

“You chained him, it, made it eat people, prolonged its unnatural and painful existence, and you call yourself brother?” Rhiannon retorted.

“I’ll have you, bitch. Own you. Boss or no Boss, not to kill, no, but you’ll beg for a bullet every time I rip you-,“ One Ear snarled.

“That’s enough!” he shouted. “You attack? You better expect people to defend! Now, get your asses out of town before I regret letting you.”

“Watch it, Cowboy,” One Ear sneered, “you’ll find there’s lots of people willing to kill for her.”

“And die, it seems,” Rhiannon, rather inappropriately, retorted.

 ——

He watched, for what he was aware was the second time, as morally challenged men left town. The difference was he was pretty sure these guys would be back, bigger and stronger. He figured it was better they assumed they’d settled in this place, but there was no way he’d let them lay eyes on Snickers.

They didn’t take Army with them, and, while he figured that was a good deal for Army, he was aware of what it said about One Ear and his Buddy and how far they’d go to get hands on Rhiannon.