Where Have I Been?...

So, the last few weeks have been a bit of a blur for me. First, we're doing necessary home improvements and I'm dealing with roofing contractors, landscapers, etc.

Second, we're prepping for kiddo's entry into real college life. He's been accepted and will be living on  campus (which is incredibly scary for me). With that comes boatloads of paperwork and shopping, since he has nothing that he needs. Plus, we're sorting out the financials for that (ugh).

Third, we're bringing kiddo off some heavy meds - stuff he's been on since he was 10. It's nerve wracking, but going well. In another 2 weeks, he'll be free of them entirely.

Fourth, hubs was promoted which has resulted in longer hours as he transitions from one job/office location to another. He's working 5am-8pm most days, which puts everything on me.

And finally, we had a major scare with my dad. Long story short, he had a medical condition that needed immediate treatment. The doctor at the local hospital (Podunk Central) suggested he go to a major hospital, but agreed he could perform the life saving surgery. My dad is the kind of guy who (a) doesn't like/trust strange doctors (b) doesn't like being far from home (c) tries to be tough and strong when he needs to not be. The surgery, of course, failed. Which meant a trip to the real hospital - where a team of doctors attempted it and also failed. Apparently, he has an "unusual" layout of his organs & intestines that prohibit normal procedures. (ie. I'm apparently part mutant - sorry dad). Sooo, the third surgery they were prepared with 2 teams of doctors. And it was more invasive. But it was successful. However, during surgery several large air bubbles freakishly got into his blood stream and traveled through his heart!! (The doctors had never seen this before & there are only 3 cases on record of it happening.) His blood pressure and oxygen bottomed out (he was never without, but it was dangerously low for 5-6 minutes). He was placed in a medically induced coma while they determined if he suffered brain damage. (My siblings and I all raced to be with my mother - a nightmarish 3 hr. drive for me & a long 24 hr. wait for all of us.)

The good news? He's fine. No brain damage. Expected to recover fully. (I don't know if the rest of us are okay, but we're getting there.)

What saved him? His heart. It beats irregularly, so (and this is fascinating stuff), because of that irregular beat, his brain knows that if the heart stops, it has to send a signal to start it up again. Most of us don't have this ability because our hearts beat regularly, so our brain never learns this trick. That's why we're likely to die if we have a heart attack. But when the air bubbles passed through my father's heart, his brain said to his heart "keep beating". It saved his life - not the 2 teams of doctors monitoring the event. And that's an interesting little phenomenon that would be great in a clutch moment of a story, isn't it?

So, again, I'm sorry there's no book postings, but I have a little preoccupied. I have been reading e-books on my iPad tho, so I do have a bunch of indie books to talk about. But today, I am brain dead. (Geez, that's probably in poor taste saying that considering...oh, whatever).
Karen

Blarg Blog

That title just about sums it up.

I fully intend to post soon, but right now I'm dealing with family stuff, so bear with me. I promise I have interesting books to talk about and I'll be posting hopefully in the next few days.

p.s. If you haven't read Jenn Bennett's books, for goodness sake what are you waiting for? Her character relationships (a slightly older man with a teenage son who's a hoot) are awesome!

p.p.s. Someone shoot me, please.

Blackbirds by Chuck Wendig

I have to talk about Blackbirds by Chuck Wendig (which by the way gets the golden rating of 6 perfect stars)!

Blackbirds is about a girl, Miriam Black. She has the unfortunate ability to touch someone and know exactly how and when they'll die. In fact, she sees their deaths in gruesome detail. Miriam is a hardened loner. She lives a nomadic life - traveling from place to place - and survives by being at the place of the people she's touched deaths where she relieves them of their money after they're dead. Yeah. She's not exactly a nice person. But she's understandable. Sympathetic, even. Most definitely tragic.

Despite her scavenger lifestyle, self-depricating behavior, and angry brittle wit, I couldn't help but feel horrible for Miriam. She's deeply troubled, thoroughly damaged and so very lost. Enter Louis, a truck driver, big and genuinely likeable, who helps Miriam out of a bad situation. Miriam touches Louis, she sees his death - and he's calling out to her. For the first time in a long time, Miriam doesn't want fate to win. Then there's Ashley, a total fuckup and smooth talking con man who has discovered Miriam's secret talent. He has a plan and a past - and neither is good. Mix in a lot of dark, action-packed bad shit and you have Blackbirds. 

Miriam is a strong believer that she can't control fate. She's tried to stop deaths from happening, but it never works. She believes she's cursed - that she's the catalyst for the deaths. Maybe she is. Maybe she isn't. Either way, she is broken. Chuck Wendig draws you into Miriam's head - into her darkest thoughts and her deepest fears. It's so intense, I swear I could feel the words. Miriam hurts. This book hurts. And that's what makes it so incredibly good.

It's a dark roller coaster through the hell of Miriam's mind - doused with other, darker minds that make her seem like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz. And through it all is Louis - hope - light - redemption maybe - if only Miriam can stand up to fate.

I don't think I've been so haunted by a character since the first time I read Odd Thomas by Dean Koontz (Odd haunts me to this day - and I have a feeling Miriam is gonna snuggle right up there with him in my brain). 

Blackbirds earns the 6 stars of excellence. That means, people, that if I could I would own it on e-reader (done), paperback (done), and hardcover (damn - no hardcover??). It's a book that I'll read over and over. It's a book that might just sit on my nightstand for a while so I can pick it up and feel the emotion from it again. (Okay, that sounds creepy but it's really not. I just honestly loved the story.)

And the artwork on the cover?? Amazing.

Karen

I'm A Little Bit Emo...A short story.

Okay, I promise after this I'll lighten up & go back to talking books. I'm anxiously awaiting several new releases (peek at my post of what's coming out, if you're curious). I'm doing better today - not great but getting there. I wrote this little bit this morning and I think it expresses how I've felt the last few days. My happy pills didn't even help. I'm hoping to sit in the sun on my deck today and chill. So, without further ado...
(and, hey, don't read it if you don't want - its just a dark love story)

DEPRESSION

He doesn’t use the doorbell but still I know he’s there, patiently waiting for me to open the door and invite him in. And so, of course, I do. He stands there, beautiful and seductive as always in his black suit with no tie. His white shirt is unbuttoned just enough to be tantalizing. Barefoot. Dark hair touselled like he’s been running rough fingers through it. His mouth is twisted into a wry smile that promises so much pain. His head is bowed just slightly, his dark hair hiding eyes that I know carry all of my bleakest thoughts. He’s a dark angel and I’m drawn to his power. He’s better than the best sex. Just looking at him makes me hurt.

I back up and let him in.

He steps close, so close that I can feel the softness of his breath on my skin, and he wraps his icy arms around me and draws me against him. His lips brush my ear in a gentle kiss and he whispers the words I’ve been waiting to hear.

“Fat. Ugly. Cow. Stupid. Loser. Friendless. Worthless. Hopeless. Alone.”

I know these words so well, as well as I know him – my dark dangerous love. If I had the strength, I would send him away, but instead I press closer. My body fits against his as if it was made to rest there. I want him. I always want him.

I haven’t missed him. I’ve missed him desperately. He’s my poison. He’s my  pleasure. He is, above all else, home.

He steps away and I am bereft. I need his touch – the void of emptiness, so full of dark emotion. I need it like a starving man needs food. He shuts the door behind him and takes my hand. His touch enfolds me, encompasses me, envelops me. He leads me into the house. We settle down together on the couch, as close as we can get, but it can’t be close enough. It's never close enough.

“Disgusting. Gross. Repulsive. Unloveable.”

His words are a melody that draws me in – a song that is all mine. He’s written it for me and me alone. And then he says my favorite words again, the words I’ve been waiting for, the words that are my life. “Ugly. Unloved. Loser.”

Magic. Such dark beautiful magic. He knows just how to please me. The ice of his grip turns painful and it’s wonderful. Joyous. I want more. This is where I belong. I can never get close enough. He can never cause enough pain. He is so beautiful to me.

He stays with me as long as I need him. He’s always there with a torturous touch, or the bite of a word, or a knife to my chest. He cradles me in his arms at night and whispers to me until I sleep. He feeds on my tears and my hopelessness. He knows just how to hurt me. He knows just how to make me feel. And I feel so much when I’m with him.

If he stays, he’ll destroy me.

Ours is not a healthy relationship. It’s unforgiving and dark, and it consumes me. The emotions are too strong. The words too painful. His touch too sensitive to my skin. It burns. The darkness is too all-encompassing. His words draw blood and I'm already so bloody. I'm tired. I need more….

I need light.

It is the one thing he cannot give me.

It’s heartbreaking. It’s enlightening. It’s freeing.

I wake one morning and he’s waiting by the door. His warm gaze meets mine and that crooked smile is there. It doesn't move me. I’ve had my fill of him. His words are burned into me - a reminder of all I know. They won’t disappear for a long time. He’s fulfilled my every need. I'm ready to let him go for now. I’ll be okay without him.

I might even learn to enjoy the light.

Once he’s gone, I tack his picture on the wall with the countless pictures of him. I do this each time he’s visited. I want to remember him. I need to remember him. My walls are so full of his face, a memorial to his empty beauty, that there’s no space for anything else. I can never forget him. I don’t want to ever forget him. But I can go on without him and I will be better for it.

He’ll be back the next time I need him.

His quiet strength is always there, ready to pull me into the darkness of his embrace. His cruel lips are waiting to bring me the ultimate pleasure. Pain.

And that’s what depression is like for me. - Karen

A Very Short Emo Post

Depression came sneaking into my house yesterday. It hunkered down beside me and whispered in my ear. I know the things it said are lies, but still they eat at me. I've asked it to leave but its a sneaky little bastard. It keeps tiptoeing up behind me and catching me unaware. I'm doing my best to ignore it in the hopes that it will get tired of trying to manipulate me and go away. But I have a feeling its going to put up a fight.

Depression is a sneaky lying motherfucker and it sucks ass.

So I Read This Book.....

Yeah. Um....I'm not going to ask if you've heard about the book Fifty Shades of Grey by E.L. James. You probably have. But have you read it? I've been seeing posts and blogs about it for a while, but to be honest - erotic romance? Not really my thing. I love my urban fantasy. I love paranormal romance (as long as its heavy on the story). But erotica...well, there was that time in the 80's in college where I subscribed to Playgirl *blushes furiously*...um...never mind. Fact is, I don't have the patience for stories that are all sex and no substance. Plus, trying to read smut in front of my 17 yr. old son & husband -- well... No. Can. Do.

But all the talk about Fifty Shades had me curious. Why the hell was this book getting so much promo? I decided to look it up on Amazon and read the excerpt. And...shit...I was hooked. I had to buy it.

It came Friday. I finished it this morning. (To be fair, I'm also reading two other books - a feat I don't recommend. It makes me scattered.)

I'm going to say one thing -- I've already ordered the next two books in the series AND I'm sitting here trying to convince myself I can wait for them to come in the mail. Honestly, I want to order them for my e-reader too, because I don't WANT to wait.

Fifty Shades of Grey is more than erotica. Yes, there's some racy hot scenes in it that will make your hair curl (and perhaps raise your blood pressure *clears throat*). Yeah. It's something. But that's NOT what makes this book phenomenal. It's the story. And, good God, it's a fantastic story.

Anastasia is just about to graduate from college when she takes her roommate's place interviewing businessman Christian Grey. Christian is ...oooh boy. Hot. Dangerous. Fascinating. Damaged. Just like Anastasia, I wanted to know his story. What makes him the man he is? How damaged is he? It appealed to that part of me that loved Jane Eyre and Rebecca and all those Victorian era stories with the innocent young girl trying to figure out the enigmatic older man who's fucked up. Yeah, except with a very modern twist, because Christian? Well, he's seriously fucked up.

They're not equals. Sexually, she's a total innocent. Romantically, he is. Emotionally? Well, he's rigid and stunted and in desperate need of learning that not everything can be controlled. And she's so unsure of herself in so many ways that she appeals to his need to control. She's light. He's dark. She makes him lighter. He makes her darker. Can they find a balance? A way to come together in a healthy way?

The story is very clever in that some of the most amazing conversations happen in emails which are both clever and funny. They lighten up what would otherwise be a dark dark story. The book ends on a cliffhanger that left me emotionally drained and desperate to know more. I'm invested in these characters. I need to know if they're going to work it out. And how they're going to work it out without Ana destroying herself. Can she find a way to accept Christian and his ... um ... unique likes?

This book has a heart. It has a soul. It has a story to tell. That's what makes it so good. And that's why everyone is talking about it. Do I recommend it? YES! But only if you can handle bondage scenes. (Trust me, there aren't that many and they're ... um .... interesting? enlightening? well written? *turning beet red*.) Shut up. And don't laugh at me. I'm a good little Catholic girl. ;P

I'm kind of shocked to say this, but this may have been one of the most enjoyable books I've read so far this year. Go forth and buy. You may wish to invest in something to fan yourself while you read. And don't blame me if it's too much for you. But you can definitely thank me for recommending it if you love it.

Karen

Flash Fiction Challenge

So, Chuck Wendig is having this little contest. 1000 Words. Subject? Death. So here is my entry:

(yes, its a little...um...graphic so I apologize in advance to anyone I might offend *cough* family members *cough*, but it's what popped into my head)

I never thought I would be a card carrying member of the 27 Club. Twenty-seven is a crappy age to die, especially in such a humiliating way. I should have known Alex wouldn’t be able to keep his shit together.

I thought we were being smart. We’d talked about taking our relationship to the next step for months. It wasn’t like the sex part was new to us. We’d been playing at friends with benefits for over a year. But Alex kept talking how much better it would be if I just trusted him enough to try it. Everybody I asked said it would be okay as long as we were careful. We’d even created a safe word. “Day-Oh.” It was a joke between us. When we were ready to call it a night, we would sing that stupid song. You know the one: “Day-Oh. Day-Oh. Daylight come and me want to go home.” It really meant, “I’m done. Get the fuck out.”

Day-Oh seemed like such a perfect word for “stop”.

Fat lot of good it was doing me now.

Alex had me pinned to the bed, his big body over me, my wrists clamped in his large hands to hold me down, not that I was fighting him. His body moved in mine in a rhythm that I was familiar with but had long since stopped enjoying tonight. I didn’t dare move at all for fear it would push him further over the edge, but I was dangerously close to losing consciousness. Considering how much he was enjoying my submission, fear would probably send him right over the top.

“Day-oh, Alex. Oh fuck, come on. Day-oh.” I couldn’t believe how warbly and weak my voice was, not that it would help. His mouth didn’t budge. His fangs were sunk as deep as he could get them into my throat. The rumbling noises coming from him sounded like a cat purring, only bigger and more psychotic. This was not the fun loving, party animal Alex who sang Jimmy Buffet when he’d had too many jello shots.

I didn’t know this Alex. This Alex was fucking predator.

If I survived this Jacinda was going to kill me. She’d warned me that some vampires lost themselves in the bloodlust of sex mixed with feeding. She’d begged me not to do it. But Alex had insisted that losing control almost never happened, and that it had never happened to him. I believed him.

Who would have thought Jacinda would be right?

I could feel how hard my heart was working, erratic, the blood flowing in my collapsing veins weak and thready. The sparkly little stars in my vision were wreaking havoc with my eyesight. I blinked in an effort to clear it, but my lids felt as dry and gummy as my throat.

You’d think Alex would have picked up on my distress. But no. He was having too much fun. And just when things started to go a little black around the edges, he started pounding into me. I could actually hear him swallowing as he sucked fiercely. With one final powerful thrust, he came. His teeth retracted from my abused throat and he shouted with his orgasm.

After a ridiculously long moment where I wondered what the morgue would say to my parents when they came to identify me, he lowered his mouth to my neck again, this time lapping at it gently, sealing off the wound. Jesus.

My heart was in its death throws and he was cozying up.

How is it possible that one man (granted Alex is six foot two and built like a lumberjack) consume that much blood? I mean, I know he’s a vampire. And at 125 lbs., I probably have less blood than the average 6 pints - before he turned me into a human slurpee. But even half that amount should be tough to drink down for anybody.

“Oh baby, that was so fucking awesome.” Alex whispered in his ‘sexy voice’, all husky and dark. Usually, I thought it was funny. Today, I just wanted him to get off and shut up. “You were amazing, Cass.”

Yeah. That’s me. The amazing, nearly dead girl. I tried to clear my throat so that I could tell him exactly what I was thinking at the moment about his post-coital dirty talk, but it came out more like a gurgle. Talk about frustrating.

“Cass?” His deep voice took on a concerned tone. I tried to focus on it without much luck. I think he finally realized something was wrong, because decided to shake me like a rag doll. I was going to stake him with the thickest broom handle I could find.

“Oh shit! Cass? Come on.” Great. Now he was panicking. Better late than never, I guess. I wanted to open my eyes and glare at him. I wanted to move, but my stupid body wouldn’t obey. I couldn’t even lift my hand. And it wasn’t like the jerk had moved off me. Or out of me, for that matter. He was primed and ready for round two, something I’d always appreciated about him. Now it just pissed me off.

Something hard smacked my face. I gasped, wedged open my eyes, and wished I hadn’t. His jaw was coated with my blood. His eyes were glowing just a little like a cat’s at night. It freaked me out.

“Cass?” He looked as scared as I felt.

I managed two words. “Call. Ambulance.”  

He lurched away from me and scrambled off the bed. For a second, he just stood there looking at me in horror. “Oh shit. Shit!”

Then he did the damnedest thing. He grabbed his pants off the floor and left the room at a run. Right into the bathroom. I could hear him in there puking. He drank my fucking blood and now he was regurgitating it? What a fucking waste.

If I survived, I was never letting him touch me again.