Question of the Week - Would you rather...

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Would you rather be healthy and poor or sick and rich?

Good looking and poor or unattractive and rich?

Healthy and unattractive or sick and good looking?

For me: healthy and poor; good looking and poor; and healthy and unattractive.

Query Roundtable - Crystal's Magic

Rachel at You Are What You Write is having a Query Roundtable. Basically, we post our queries and visit everyone to give them helpful comments and feedback so our queries shine. Want to join in? The details are here.

Here's the pitch portion of Crystal's Magic, a paranormal YA novel, now revised based on comments:

God answers nearly all of fifteen-year-old Crystal's prayers. At least that's the way it seems since time slows down so she doesn't miss the bus and speeds up so she doesn't have to answer questions in class.

When she discovers her mother sought the help of witches to conceive her, Crystal’s faith becomes one giant question mark. She tracks down the witches and demands answers. They tell her she's the incarnation of magic--the only person whose magical potential is limitless. Basically, Crystal's been answering her own prayers.

Skeptical yet curious, Crystal attempts to master her power, but flying and playing with fireballs attract dangerous attention. A witch hunter captures her boyfriend, and shamans snatch her aunt. For someone with limitless magic, Crystal should easily be able to rescue them but every time her emotions run amuck, her magic goes haywire. If she can't learn to control herself, she'll never be able to save them.

Instead, Crystal just might start the Apocalypse and doom the entire world.

Any and all comments / feedback / suggestions welcome! Thanks!

Colors Like Memories by Meradeth Houston

Colors Like Memories by Meradeth Houston

Julia has a secret: she killed the guy she loved. It was an accident—sort of.
Julia is a Sary, the soul of a child who died before taking her first breath. Without this 'breath of life' she and others like her must help those on the verge of suicide. It's a job Julia enjoyed, until the accident that claimed her boyfriend’s life—an accident she knows was her fault. If living with the guilt weren't enough, she's now assigned to help a girl dealing with the loss of her mother, something Julia is not exactly the best role model for. If she can't figure out a way to help her, Julia will lose her position in the Sary, something she swore to her boyfriend would never happen.

From now until May 23rd Colors Like Memories is just $1.99.

Links:

Website: http://www.meradethhouston.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/MeradethHouston

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/ColorsLikeMemories

Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/merbear95695/

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/13030422-colors-like-memories

Meradeth on Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5321667.Meradeth_Houston

Blog: http://meradethhouston.blogspot.com/

Author Meradeth Houston

I've never been a big fan of talking about myself, but if you really want to know, here are some random tidbits about me:

• I'm a California girl. This generally means I talk too fast and use "like" a lot.
• I have my doctorate in molecular anthropology. Translation: I sequence dead people's DNA and spend a whole lot of time in a lab, which I love.
• I've been writing since I was 11 years old. It's my hobby, my passion, and I'm so happy to get to share my work!
• My other passion is teaching. There's nothing more fun than getting a classroom of college kids fired up about anthropology!
• If I could have a super-power, it would totally be flying. Which is a little strange, because I'm terrified of heights.

Giveaway Details: 
$50 Amazon.com Gift Code
Last day to enter is May 29th

Open to anyone who can legally enter and can receive and use an Amazon.com Gift Code. Winning Entry will be verified prior to prize being awarded. No purchase necessary. You must be 18 or older to enter or have your parent's permission. The winner will be chosen by rafflecopter and announced here as well as emailed and will have 48 hours to respond or a new winner will be chosen. This giveaway is in no way associated with Facebook, Twitter, Rafflecopter or any other entity unless otherwise specified. The number of eligible entries received determines the odds of winning. VOID WHERE PROHIBITED BY LAW.
a Rafflecopter giveaway

2nd Annual Flash Fiction Blogfest - The Storm

Cherie Reich is hosting a flash fiction blogfest!

Here are the rules:

1. Entries must begin with the two words: Lightning flashed.

2. Entries must be 300 words or less and be in prose. I'm not versed enough in poetry verse to judge it properly.

3. Entries must be posted on your blog between May 21 - 23.

4. You must sign up in the linky below to have your entry be counted.

On May 25, I will announce the six finalists and open voting through May 28th.

On May 29th, my third year blogversary, I will announce the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd place winners as well as a random winner selected from the participants list. All ties will be broken by Random.org.

Now what are the prizes?

First place - $25 gift card from Amazon

Second place - $20 gift card from Amazon

Third place - $15 gift card from Amazon

Random prize - $10 gift card from Amazon

If the winner prefers an alternate gift of equal value, I'm good with that. Contest in open internationally.

Here's my entry called THE STORM:

Lightning flashed.

Violet smiled. She loved storms, especially the rain. As a small child, she used to spread her arms wide, her face lifted to the clouds, as the rain kissed her.

Thunder boomed. Loud and powerful.

Another flash of lightning.

Violet stepped off her front porch.

Another rumble. This one even louder. The storm was getting closer.

Violet’s short hair matted to her forehead. Her dress clung to her legs, making it hard to walk.

She could feel the crackle of electricity, so close was the next strike.

Most people would not be out in this storm.

But Violet wasn’t like most people.

Her world was crumbling apart. Her fiancé had cheated on her, she had been fired from her job, she was behind on all of her bills, she hadn’t spoken to her father in years…

Yet, somehow, someway, in this moment, she was happy.

She raised her arms toward the heavens.

The thunder screamed and burst her eardrums.

Lightning coursed through her veins.

Violet dropped into a puddle, the murky, muddy water staining pink.

Dead.

Another bolt of lightning jolted her body, and Violet lifted her head.

Alive again.

But no longer human.

She had been wronged so many times in life. Now she had the chance to right those wrongs.

Starting with her no-good fiancé.

Violet was now a monster.

Her body transformed into water, and she slipped down a manhole into the sewers. Revenge would be hers.

And still the storm raged on.

Like Clockwork by Elle Strauss

Like Clockwork, a companion novel to the Clockwise series, is here!!

Adeline doesn't feel she belongs in her own time, but can bad boys from the past be trusted?

 Adeline Savoy had hoped that the move west from Cambridge to Hollywood with her single dad would mean they’d finally bond like a real family, but all she got was a father too busy with his new female friends and his passion for acting to really see her.

 Instead she finds herself getting attached to Faye, the divorcee hair dresser she befriends when she travels back in time to 1955. Plus Faye has a hottie, James Dean-esque, bad-boy brother who has Adeline’s heart all aflutter. But bad boys from the past can be dangerous. Is it possible that Adeline really does belong in her own time and that maybe the right boy lives as close as next door?

LIKE CLOCKWORK is available now at Amazon and Smashwords and soon for B&N, ibooks and other e-book retailers.

 Read on to sample the first chapter:

Chapter One

Adeline Savoy

My dad still thought I was ten. That was how old I was when my mother died, and how old I was when my father crawled into his “cave,” also known as his office on the 26th floor of the John Hancock tower. Six years later, like a bear coming out of hibernation, Dad decided his days of hiding behind a desk were over. I thought he was going through a mid-life crisis, which was why we now lived in Hollywood instead of Cambridge. And why when I spotted his reflection in a mirror at the cosmetic counter in the Shop & Save store, I almost dropped the Scarlet Passion lipstick tester I'd just smeared on my lips.

Even though I was sixteen, I wasn't allowed to wear make-up. True. With my left hand I used a tissue to wipe the evidence off my mouth, all the while watching my dad’s familiar profile move in and out of range in the mirror.

He was laughing. I crouched down and turned, my vision just missing the counter top, and watched. His hair had grown out since the “decision.” He used to always keep it so short, that I didn’t even know it was wavy before, and the lines on his face never used to turn upward in a smile.

I had to see who was causing this cosmic reaction in my father. The clerk who sold cheap jewelry, a pretty-in-a-fake way brunette, tilted her head and giggled back.

My jaw dropped and something really strange started happening in my stomach. I felt a little sick because I couldn’t believe what I was witnessing. My dad was flirting!

Who was this man dressed in khakis, flip-flops and an un-tucked pseudo Hawaiian shirt? My real dad only wore pinstriped suits with starchy white shirts and a blue tie. Always. Even to bed, I was certain.

“Miss? Are you all right?” The cosmetic clerk was armed with a spray nozzle cleaner in one hand and a paper towel in the other.

I mimed as best I could, “ssh”, but apparently dad was the only one with acting skills in my family, since she wouldn’t leave me alone.

“Miss? You don’t look too good. Should I call for medical?”

The fake pretty lady stopped chatting when she heard her colleague talking so loudly. Obviously, that meant my dad’s little flirtation episode was over. And of course, my blonde ponytail was a giveaway. 

“Adeline?” he said.

“Dad!” I jumped up, feigning surprise.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

What are you doing here? I thought. “Um nothing, just looking. Thought I might buy some gum.”

Dad glanced back at the fake and I did a quick switcheroo, replacing the tester and grabbing a sealed golden tube. It tucked nicely in my fist as I crossed my arms over my chest.

“Adeline, come here,” Dad said. “I want you to meet someone.”

My legs moved toward dad and the fake without my permission.

“Adeline, this is my friend from acting class, Spring. Spring, this is my daughter, Adeline.”

Spring extended her hand. Unfortunately, the contraband lipstick was in my right hand. I wasn’t a magician. Dad would notice if I tried to switch. I opted for the awkward offering of my left hand.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Spring gushed.

“Same,” I said, not meaning it at all. “Not that I don’t want to stay and chat,” I added quickly, before Dad could draw us into more forced intimacies, “but I’ve got to go.”

“I’ll walk with you,” Dad said. But he wasn’t looking at me; he was smiling at the fake.

“It’s okay, Dad. I’ll meet you at home.” I strutted across the floor to the cashier. He glanced back at me as I stood in line at the register. I waved the pack of gum in the air. I paid for it and the lipstick while Dad and the fake went back to making googly eyes.

I snapped the gum in my mouth while caressing the lipstick tube in my hand. It was encased in a plastic protective seal, a perforated strip running the length of it like a zipper. My thumb picked at the rim. All I had to do was rip it open and it would no longer be returnable.

But I really should return it. I’d promised myself I’d give up the greasy lip habit when we moved. It was a chance to start over, do everything new, and be a proper daughter with a proper father.

Hrumph. Like that was turning out. Dad wasn't exactly holding up his end of the bargain.

My breaths came out short and rapid, like a panting dog. I didn’t realize how fast I’d been walking. I’d hardly taken in the tall palm trees that lined the road or the sweet smell of tropical flowers I didn’t know the names of.

No signs of autumn in sight. In Cambridge the leaves would be showing signs of turning color, bright reds and yellows. A little twist in my stomach. I was homesick.

And angry.

He was supposed to change, but not like that. He was supposed to notice me, spend time with me, not some flake called Spring. What kind of name was that anyway? It sounded like a made up actress name. Her last name was probably Storm or Wind. My thumb picked the plastic a bit more.

“Hi, there.”

I turned my head. Some guy riding a pink bike with a sparkly white banana seat and matching tassels that hung off tall, wide handle bars slowed down to keep pace with me.

“Hi,” he said again. This time there was no mistaking he was talking to me.

“Hi?” I said, not slowing down at all to do so. I may be entering my junior year, but I still didn’t talk to strangers. Janice, my babysitter/pseudo mom in Cambridge, had drilled that lesson into me good.

“My name's Marco. I live next door to you.”

Okay. I slowed a little. “Why are you riding a girl’s bike?” Did he steal it? Why didn’t he care about how stupid it made him look?

“It’s my sister’s. I sold mine to buy something else, but riding this is better than walking.”

“I’m walking and you’re not making any better time than me.” I was annoyed. Why didn’t he just keep going? I preferred to sulk alone.

“You’re new, so I thought with school starting tomorrow, you’d like someone to ride the bus with.”

Good point. Who knew what kinds of Hollywood weirdos would be on the bus? I looked Marco up and down. He was average height, shaggy hair, and wore a graphic t-shirt and surfer shorts with fat, loosely tied skate shoes on his feet. No socks. He had nice, tanned skin and warm brown eyes that squinted to almost close when he smiled. He wasn’t hard to look at.

And he looked trustworthy enough, I guessed. Plus, he was right. I didn’t really want to go to Hollywood High alone.

I stopped and turned to him. “I’m Adeline Savoy.” I wiped the sweat on my right hand off on my skirt—sky blue, slightly flared and to my knees—and offered it wanting to start my new friendship off on the right foot.

“Cool,” Marco said as we shook. “You like to make things official. I like that.”

The sun must’ve glinted off the gold tube in my other hand because Marco nodded toward it. “What’ya got there?”

“Oh, it’s just lipstick. I bought it, but now I’m not sure. I might take it back.”

“I don’t know why girls wear that vile stuff,” he said. I was surprised by the strength of his statement.

“It makes us feel good. Pretty. What’s wrong with that?”

“For one thing, you’re already pretty without it.”

He thought I was pretty?

“Besides,” he continued, “it’s made out of horse urine.”

“It is not! That’s so gross.”

“It is. That’s why it has that sticky consistency. Have you ever seen dried urine around a toilet?”

“You’re disgusting! How would you know about lipstick, anyway?”

“I have three sisters, though one is only six years old and hasn’t discovered the evils of make-up and this culture’s drive to sexualize young girls. It’s too late for my older sisters, but you can still be saved.”

Who was this guy? And how did he get off talking to me like that? He didn’t even know me. I felt my lips settle into a tight line and my pace picked up.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

How long was he going to walk with me? “Where did you say you lived?”

“Right next door to you.”

“Right next door?” This annoying person, who happened to be my only friend, lived right next door?

“Yeah, the two storey. My bedroom window faces yours.”

“You see in my window!”

“No. I don’t…” His face flushed red.

“You do, you do look in. You peeping Tom!”

“Adeline, I didn’t see anything. I just heard your music.”

“Huh?” I stopped and spun to face him.

A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. “And your singing.”

“What?” I was mortified. He probably heard me singing along to  Feist, or even worse, he saw me doing my Michael Jackson impersonation. I bet he saw me doing the Thriller dance the other night. Ugh!

“Everyone can hear you. You have your window open.”

“You know what? Don’t talk to me.”

Marco seemed truly taken aback, and yet he didn’t get the hint. Not even one as direct as that. He was not only a peeper, but he was dense, too.

“I live in a house full of women. Three sisters and a mother. I get what’s going on here. It’s PMS, isn’t it?”

Was he kidding me? As if I would talk about something like that with him! I stopped and stared hard into his eyes. I produced my new tube of lipstick and slowly peeled the perforated strip, letting the plastic wrapper drop to the ground. I dramatically popped off the lid and twisted the base until the bright red dried horse urine was in full view.

Then I put it on my lips, slowly, purposefully, first the top and then the bottom, smacking them in Marco’s direction when I was done.

Take that, Mr. I Know Women.

Marco bent down, picked up the plastic wrapper and pushed it in his pocket. He straddled the bike and pushed off, turning back long enough to say, “I’ll pick you up at 8:10 tomorrow morning for school.”

Argh.