So, without further ado. Here it is...Marcos, take it away.

To tell the lengthy story behind the publication of Killing Pythagoras, I must begin by mentioning my daughter Lucía's influence in my life as a writer.

Before she came into the world, I had spent twelve years writing on the side, fitting it in around my work as an economist and a clinical psychologist. However, on August 21, 2009, my life changed.

At nine o’clock that night, after seventeen hours of labor, Lucía, our first child, was born. One minute later, we were told she had Down syndrome.

The following weeks were full of intense emotions. We were forced to redefine where we belonged, both in the world around us and within ourselves. How difficult this process is depends on how it is addressed, something I discuss in the video on Down syndrome (DS),which you’ll find on the DS page of this website. View it here.

During those weeks I rethought all the activities I had been devoting my time to. I finally decided to set aside everything I had been doing and focus exclusively on my family and on writing. Although I had already won several literary awards, I felt that, with enough effort, I could write a book that would be much more far-reaching than what I had written up to that point. Thanks to my daughter, what had been a vague idea I thought about every once in a while now became a concrete goal, a life project. One I hoped would ensure, at least partially, a secure future for Lucía, since my daughter would most likely be unable to earn her living once I was no longer there to care for her.

I resolved to spend two years researching and writing a novel. While it would be a thriller, it would also incorporate some topics I had wanted to include in a novel for a long time. I began by spending ten hours a day on research and plot and character development. Those ten hours quickly became twelve and grew to include Saturdays as well. During the week I would take Lucía to daycare, stimulation, and physical therapy, to which speech therapy and swimming were later added. I would work on the novel in the waiting rooms. In order to have a few more minutes to write, I limited my meals to a couple of sandwiches I ate while driving my daughter from one place to another.

Despite my dedication, when the two years were up, the novel was still not finished. Or rather, it was finished, but I decided to take another year to rewrite it. I thought it was worth the effort. It had the potential to appeal to many readers, but it still hadn’t reached that potential.

The third year dragged on, with multiple rewrites. I worked hand-in-hand with the large team of editors I’ve been lucky enough to be able to count on. By the beginning of 2012, I was finally convinced that Killing Pythagoras was far and away the best novel I had ever written. The moment had arrived to try it out on the reading public.

In 2012, Spain was in the midst of a profound economic crisis. The situation was even worse in the publishing sector, and it turned out to be almost impossible to get a publisher to read a manuscript by a little-known author. Besides, I didn't want a publisher to "test launch" my novel. I was determined that Killing Pythagoraswould be an important source of support for my daughter's future. I didn't want to risk it fading into oblivion due to being published in a small print run with no marketing and very few copies available in bookstores. For this reason, I decided against taking the classic route of sending the manuscript around to all the publishing houses, and thought of another avenue: literary awards. In a literary contest, a committee reads all the novels submitted, which meant that if mine had the potential I thought it did, it would be sent to the panel of judges as part of the selection process. With this idea in mind, in May of 2012, I submitted it to the literary competition for the Planeta Prize, the most lavishly-endowed literary award in the world.

While all this was going on, I had begun, at the end of 2011, to study an alternative way of reaching readers: the Internet. When I finished writing Killing Pythagoras, I began to devote much of my time to reading articles and searching for information. I devoured everything I could find written by Internet gurus and online authors who had been successful in the US, the country that sets the trends for the rest of the world in technology like digital books. When I entered my novel in the Planeta literary competition, I was already dividing my time between writing The Brotherhood (the sequel to Killing Pythagoras), and studying the relationship between the Internet and books. I soon came to the conclusion that what had already happened in the English-speaking world—where millions of readers bought ebooks on the Internet, turning often-unknown writers into bestselling authors, some of whom then received offers of publication from the top publishing houses—was starting to happen in the Spanish-speaking world as well.

"Okay," I told myself, "the market for ebooks in Spanish is too small to make a living from, but it will grow, and it’s already large enough to get the attention of the publishing houses. If my novel could make it into the top ten and get good reviews, maybe some publisher would read it and make me an offer."

I turned this idea over so much in my mind I almost forgot I had submitted the novel to the Planeta literary contest. I hired a web developer and began to design the cover and learn the thousand little things one needs to know to publish on the Internet with the same quality as a traditionally published book. I had invested a lot of time in the novel and had high hopes for it. I wanted to do things with the same level of professionalism as the top Internet publishers in the US.

In October of 2012, I received a call from Planeta, telling me my novel had been chosen as one of the ten finalists and inviting me to the awards ceremony where they would announce the rankings. The first thing I did was call my web developer and tell him to put the Internet publishing project on hold until the outcome of the Planeta Prize was determined. Planeta is a large publishing group, and it seemed like a good option for them to publish my novel. I didn't expect to win the contest, but I knew that they usually published the first four or five finalists, so my goal was to get third, fourth or fifth place.

Killing Pythagoras turned out to be fourth in the rankings and first among the novels written without a pseudonym. I talked with several of the judges, and they told me that they had liked my book a lot and had even recommended that Planeta publish the novel. Without daring to get my hopes up too much, I waited for the publisher to contact me. I couldn't do anything else, because Planeta has the right during the first two or three months after the prize is awarded to option any of the novels submitted. While I waited for them to get back to me, I set to work on an old project: making a video on DS that would include my most important conclusions as a father and a psychologist and offer the best advice I could give to parents who had just received the news. I wanted it to be all-encompassing, useful for families and friends as well as parents. I also wanted to make more information about DS available to the general public. Due to the broad scope of the project—which included subtitling the video in English—it would take three or four months to complete.

I was immersed in making the DS video when Planeta called to tell me that, owing to the crisis and the fact that I wasn’t a well-known author, they had decided not to publish my novel.

I still had a couple of months of work left on the video, but I called the web developer and told him we were moving forward with the Internet publishing project. When I finished the DS video, I uploaded it to YouTube and the web. Then I immediately went back to focusing on the novel, and on April 6th, 2013, Killing Pythagoras appeared on the Internet.

When my novel became one of the more than 70,000 digitally-published books in Spanish, deep misgivings invaded me: why would anyone choose to buy my book over the other 70,000?

The first day one ebook sold, and I went to sleep surprised, hopeful, and uneasy. The next day two sold, and that first week I got up to three a day. The second week my daily sales rose quickly: eight, nine, sixteen, twenty-three...and suddenly my novel was among the top one hundred! I began to think that perhaps my dream that the publishing houses would take notice wasn't unfounded.

One week later, Killing Pythagoras was in the top ten, and by the end of April, it was number two. In May it became the bestselling ebook in Spanish in the world. I was selling more than any other self-published author or any publishing house. Dan Brown himself published Inferno shortly thereafter, and, astonishingly, the Spanish translation of his ebook lagged behind Killing Pythagoras.

I couldn't take my eyes off the screen and kept asking my wife to pinch me.

When the novel had been number one for a couple of weeks, I began to get calls from interested publishing houses asking if it was copyrighted. I told them I had the rights and sent them the novel. The first publishing houses were Spanish, but soon publishers from other countries in Europe, and even Asia, began to contact me. I was amazed. What was happening was more than I had ever dreamed of, but at the same time, I was uneasy. Would I get an offer? Would I ever hear from these publishers again? And if I did get offers, would they be only for a "test launch"?

During this time, I also contacted several literature blogs. They were very receptive and supportive about introducing a writer who was still unknown. Several offered to read and comment on the novel, and the first reviews began to appear. Also, readers who had finished the book were writing reviews all over the Internet. Most of the commentaries posted by readers and bloggers gave it five stars. Killing Pythagoras was getting a higher ranking on average than the bestsellers written by known authors. That fact seemed crucial to me, and I based my aspirations on it, hoping someone would believe sufficiently in the novel to keep it from disappearing in a few weeks.

In the second half of May the first offers arrived. Over the course of my career, I had signed several publishing contracts, and thanks to that I knew that what I was getting were minimum bids. These publishing houses were certainly not displaying the enthusiasm and single-mindedness I needed them to feel toward my novel. I continued to believe that only a firm commitment by a publishing house could give Killing Pythagoras a real chance in the very difficult world of bookselling. I responded to them in writing that I was going to take some time to evaluate the various offers I had received. Meanwhile, I looked at the bestseller rankings every day, saw that Killing Pythagoras was still number one, and prayed that it would last while I negotiated with the publishing houses.

At the end of May, I received a call on my cell phone while I was in the library where I write in the afternoons. It was one of the publishing houses that had sent me an offer by email as well as other emails insisting they wanted to talk to me. This time they had called my home phone and asked my wife for my cell number. They apologized for "harassing” me and insisted they were very interested in talking to me. We arranged to have a meeting on Skype the next day.

In the hours before the meeting, I forced myself to contain my expectations. I really liked the apparent interest they were showing, but I didn't know what they would want to offer me, and, most of all, I doubted they would accept several conditions I intended to ask for, as that was something very unusual in the publishing world.

During the first part of the meeting I let them talk (there were three women). I liked everything they said. One said she had read my book all in one sitting, staying up until five in the morning, and that the next day she had burst into the publishing house, very excited, saying she had found the book they were looking for. The others demonstrated similar enthusiasm. They told me they were from Duomo, a Spanish publishing house affiliated with the Mauri Spagnol group, one of the three largest publishing houses in Italy. They added that their Italian counterparts had read my novel and were ready to make a significant investment in its publication there as well as in Spain. Killing Pythagoras would be one of Duomo’s most important launches in Spain in 2013, and one of the Mauri Spagnol group’s in Italy in 2014. I asked about the first print run, and they mentioned figures ten times larger than the average print run in Spain. I asked about dates and they told me they would put all their energy into my novel to be able to publish it in early fall, in time for it to gain popularity before the Christmas campaign. Their response was equally positive about what they would invest in marketing.

I was very pleased with all of that, obviously, but I had to ask for something more, and I feared the negotiations would break down because of it. First, I explained to them that, for me, this was not just one more novel, but alife project, or rather a project for my daughter's life. For that reason I wanted to keep the digital rights to the Spanish version of the novel as well as the English (a month before, I had hired a translator with the intention of publishing the novel on the Internet in English). I also insisted that I wanted to be a part of the team that designed the cover and all the promotional materials for the novel. They noted my requests and told me they would relay them to the editorial director, who would make the final decision.

The next day they called me. The group had agreed to all of my conditions. When I hung up, I let out a shout that contained so much pent-up excitement that the neighbors must have thought I had gone insane.

Killing Pythagoras continued to hold the number one spot on the Internet for five months in a row, topping the sales records for a novel in Spanish. In those months I declined the offers that arrived from other publishers and worked together with Duomo, preparing the launch of the print version in Spain. We also accepted offers for publication in other countries like Greece and Poland, and began negotiations for translation to other languages.

Finally, on October 7th, 2013, Killing Pythagoras appeared in bookstores all over Spain.

I'm writing this just a month after the launch, and for an unknown writer (now a little less so), reader response has been very good. The novel has made it into the top twenty-five in fiction books, and next month there are several promotional campaigns scheduled; for example, painting the book cover on the sides of city buses in Madrid and Barcelona. It's clear that the publisher is very committed to marketing my novel. Booksellers and the media have also given it the reception every author dreams of.

Looking back, I see that seven months have passed since I published the novel on the Internet on April 6th, 2013. After having worked like a man possessed for three years, my hope in April was that Killing Pythagoraswould reach the top ten and some publishing house would take notice of it. Now that it's been number one on the Internet for five consecutive months and the publication of print editions is well underway in several countries, I feel blessed by the gods when my daughter Lucía opens a copy, gives me her special smile as she points at my picture, and shouts:

"Papa!"

Yes, princess, Papa has written this book for you.

Hi my lovely readers! Welcome to Journey with Books Blog! Today, we have a special guest! We have Ms. Denise Verrico, the author of the Immortyl Revolution Series. Now, we're going to learn more about her work! Plus there's an excerpt for you guys! Also there's a freebie from Ms. Denise Verrico, so read on my lovely readers because you're gonna like it!


Author Guest Post:

Thanks for having me here today! I’d like to offer every commenter who leaves a contact email a link and a free coupon code for my ebook of short stories, Annals of the Immortyls!

Today, I decided to let my heroine, Mia Disantini, take over. My books are largely set in Manhattan, with the exception of My Fearful Symmetry, book three, which is set in India. NYC is the ultimate setting for urban fantasy. I’ve lived in and around the city for many years. The spots Mia mentions are all found somewhere in my books. If you’d like a visual, I’ve included links from my Pinterest page where you can see some photos of these spots.




1. Central Park- The park has a lot of great things to see. The Central Park Zoo is a charming place to visit. I also love the view from Belvedere Castle. Bethesda Fountain is another beautiful spot I like to haunt after dark.
 
2. Gramercy Park- I used to live on Gramercy. The park is only accessible to residents who have a key, but it’s a charming old neighborhood to walk around and photograph.

3.The Empire State Building almost goes without saying, but I recommend the view on a clear night. It’s truly breathtaking.


4. Battery Park - On the Southern tip of Manhattan, you can look out over the harbor and see the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island. You can buy tickets here to visit these sites. Ellis Island is a moving tribute to the immigrant experience.
 
5. Times Square - Yes, it is the center of the universe. If you like theatre, you can purchase your discounted tickets at TKTS. There is a statue of George M. Cohan too.
 
6. The American Museum of Natural History - You’ll want to reserve several hours to see everything. My wards always loved the dinosaur and marine halls best. 

7. The Metropolitan Museum of Art - Again, take your time, there is so much to see. My favorite spots: The sculpture court and the Temple of Dendur.

8. Greenwich Village- Many interesting shops and buildings on the side streets—but take a map, every street seems to be named Bleecker or Waverly.

9. Chinatown/Little Italy- Some great ethnic restaurants, but try to go on a weekday. On the weekends, you can barely walk down the sidewalks because of the crowds. Also, try to go to a dim sum restaurant. These little dishes of dumplings and other tidbits are amazing. You’re also close to other interesting neighborhoods you may want to visit, Soho, Tribeca and the Lower Eastside.
 
10. Upper Eastside - If you have expensive tastes, like a certain boy I know, you won’t want to miss all the upscale retailers and chic salons in this area. Cedric is known by name in these establishments. Of course, this is the neighborhood where my master, Ethan, threw me out into the snow to fend for myself. No good memories for me here.

11. The World Trade Center Site- The newly completed memorial inhabits the footprint where the twin towers once stood, a place for meditation and paying respect to those who perished on that awful day.


There are a lot of neat spots in the city I haven’t yet mentioned. I’d also recommend the cloisters, the Bronx Zoo, the USS Intrepid, The Museum of Modern Art, The Guggenheim Museum and so many more. New York is and will always be, in my opinion, the greatest city in the world. Maybe I’m prejudiced, but I love my Big Apple.


Trailer: http://youtu.be/OSGZ1yXXkSY

Denise’s website: http://www.deniseverricowriter.webs.com

Blog: http://www.ImmortylRevolution.blogspot.com

Twitter: http://twitter.com/#!/deniseverrico

Facebook fan page: http://on.fb.me/pwZB5L

Follow Cedric on Facebook: http://on.fb.me/ozVCZq

Cedric on Twitter: http://twitter.com/#!/cedricmackinnon


Current Release: Servant of the Goddess
Format: Print and multi format ebook



Book Blurb:

Can an Immortyl society survive in a modern world?

From the ashes of the first battle of the Immortyl Revolution, vampires Mia Disantini and Kurt Eisen set out to build a new Immortyl society. Trouble arrives in the person of Cedric MacKinnon, a runaway adept of the ancient arts, who brings tidings of upheaval at the chief elder’s court that threatens everything Mia and Kurt have accomplished. Mia finds it hard to resist when Cedric pledges his service and tempts her with the legendary skills he learned as an Immortyl courtesan. Facing opposition from both within and out, Mia begins to doubt Kurt is up to the task of leading their followers to his vision of an Immortyl Utopia. Torn between her loyalty to Kurt and Cedric’s insistence that she is the earthly manifestation of the Goddess Durga and destined to lead, Mia confronts the greatest challenge of her life.

Links to buy:

Amazon:

Amazon Page: http://amzn.to/K3NhVS

Servant of the Goddess Trade PB: http://amzn.to/K8uwPb

Servant of the Goddess Kindle: http://amzn.to/J0R2Id

Barnes and Noble: Servant of the Goddess Trade PB and Nook: http://bit.ly/IIz7ru

Omnilit: http://www.omnilit.com/product-servantofthegoddess-786819-139.html

All Romance: http://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-servantofthegoddess-786819-139.html




Sudden shouts battled against the sound of the wind. I peered down the block. Teen-formed Immortyls, sewer rats, closed a circle around a tall male, who held his hands high above his head. From the direction of the wind, I couldn’t yet ascertain this stranger as mortal or Immortyl. Best to investigate. I ran toward the disturbance, wrapping my fingers around the Glock strapped to my hip.

A shrill whistle split the air. Two of the sewer rats lunged for the stranger. He crouched and pirouetted on one leg, letting loose a rapid succession of kicks that knocked his attackers sprawling onto the sidewalk. A rat named Tommy growled and launched himself at the stranger. To my amazement, the stranger leapt high into the air and hovered there for a moment like a falcon before lashing out with both feet. Tommy’s head snapped backward, and he flattened against the pavement. The remaining rats hung back.

The slender figure of a boy maybe eighteen or nineteen touched down and crouched again, poised to strike. No mortal could perform such maneuvers with this speed and agility, not to mention almost ballet-like grace. The Immortyl’s face betrayed raw emotion, indicating he was new to the blood, probably not much older than his form suggested. Eamon, the rat pack leader, drew and aimed a pistol at him. The stranger raised his hands above his head once more.

I gave a sharp whistle for Eamon to stand down. “What’s going on here?”

Eamon lowered the gun and spit on the ground. His forever-twelve-year-old face scrunched up. “We found this one skulking about,” he said. Even after a century and half in New York his speech still gave away his Dublin origins. “Says he’s come from the chief elder’s house.”

The wind kicked up harder. Long, auburn hair whipped about the newcomer’s face. He shivered, hugging an Indian-styled shirt around him. Traces of black kohl and sienna rouge clung to his eyes and mouth, as if he’d scrubbed the paint off in a hurry. The make-up and impractical clothing pointed to origins more exotic than the russet hair and milky complexion suggested. His story sounded plausible. However, the odds that this kid had escaped the chief elder’s compound near Calcutta and made it all the way to New York on his own were unlikely. No slave had ever left there of his own accord.

Kurt had stood trial at the chief elder’s court for inciting rebellion. He’d told me that the chief, Kalidasa, employed state-of-the-art security, as well as vampire-eating tigers. The place was a veritable fortress. Still, there was always a first time, and this newcomer had held his own against Eamon’s band.

I had to admire the kid for standing up to Eamon and his thugs.

The pack leader and I didn’t care much for one another, but he’d fought for Kurt in our recent war with a rival elder. For political reasons, I forced myself to take a civil tone with him. “Did you bother to ask his business before you ordered an attack?” I called to the newcomer, “You--come here.”

The boy lowered his hands and slinked forward. I’d never seen a man move quite like this, with delicacy just brushing the feminine, yet suggesting coiled up, sinewy strength like a jungle cat. Instinct prompted my hand to reach for the Glock concealed on my hip. The kid had danger scrawled all over him in big garish letters.

“Is this true?” I asked.

“I ran away from court,” the boy replied, his speech tinged with a Scottish burr. “I’m seeking refuge here.”

The plaintive tone struck a chord in me. I sized him up again. His winsome looks didn’t belong to the usual brand of vampire assassin, but to a household slave chosen for his decorative value. Still, his swift feet could kill if given the chance. Wouldn’t it be just like Giulietta to send death in such an appealing guise?

“Kurt’s counselor, Chase Powers, can vouch for me,” he continued. “Take me to him.”

“You know Chase?”

“We met in India during Kurt’s trial. He said I’d be welcome here. Please Miss. You have to believe me. I’ve come such a long way and got nowhere else to go.” Desperation filled the spooky, green eyes. They almost glowed, more like a cat’s than a man’s. “There’s probably a bounty offered for my return by now.”

“What did you do?”

“It’s not what I did. It’s what I am.” He held out his hands. Henna tattoos snaked around the wrists and tops, elaborate whirls and spirals. “The marks of my order. I’m an adept of the ancient arts.”

He was an adept? I’d always imagined these temple devotees and de facto courtesans as Indian in origin. I gave the boy a closer look. His clothing had seen better days, but the sinuous way he moved made them a fashion statement. You couldn’t deny the perfection of feature and figure required of his order. He stood out from Eamon’s mangy lot like an emerald in a box of Cracker Jacks.
So, what are you guys waiting for? Hit the comment section now, leave a comment and don't forget to thank Ms. Denise Verrico!

Cheryl began her professional career as a nutritionst, but she didn't find her happily ever after until she made a career change.

The fear of ending up in someone's never-ending slush pile, coupled with the nagging inner voice that told her it was crazy to give up a successful business prompted Cheryl to continue writing as a hobby for many years. Finally, she decided it was time to take the plunge into writing full-time. Ten books later, she believes it was the best decision she's ever made.

An avid reader of the genre she loves and self-proclaimed workaholic, Cheryl does manage to tear herself away from her computer to spend time with the other two loves of her life, her husband and son.

Please enjoy this guest post by Sheryl Steines, author of the urban fantasy novel, The Day of First Sun. Then read on to learn how you can win huge prizes as part of this blog tour, including $450 in Amazon gift cards, a Kindle Fire, and 5 autographed copies of the book.  

The Strong Female

I am always amazed to hear that, in the year 2012, women are still talking about strong female characters. It’s funny that we’re always surprised when one comes along. Even in Hollywood, actresses still can’t find roles to sink their teeth into. As a reader, I look for characters that I can relate to in some way; a character who is more than a damsel in distress but less than an unfeeling, mean, witch. I’m putting it gently, but I’m looking for someone, who when facing a problem, doesn’t necessarily need a man to bail her out--a woman who can take care of herself in spite of her vulnerabilities. Because in reality, women are multi-layered and complex. We don’t fall to one end of an extreme or the other.


When I was younger, I started reading Danielle Steele, but I couldn't read her for long. Her female characters were far too needy and always put themselves in a position of requiring a savior. Even as a child, I couldn't help but wonder why these characters always needed a man to improve their lives. Why couldn’t they simply take care of themselves? It seemed as though female characters fell into two camps, and only two. They were either villains, witches, someone to be hated and despised, or they were weak, pathetic, your classic damsels in distress. Why is fiction lacking real women, women who can simply be human and celebrate all that they are? 


As I got older, I found myself drawn to shows like Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I saw in Buffy a strong character. Yes, she could kick ass, kill the vampires and fight the demons. She also had a brain, could plan, and could save the world each week. But she wasn't uni-dimensional. She also has a side that liked clothes, shoes and boys, a side that was feminine, a little vulnerable; a side that, okay, sometimes needed to be saved. She was a complex female character, real and human, a character with whom I could definitely relate.  


The strong female character isn’t a caricature or stereotype. She’s not a total wimp like Snow White, and she’s not a total monster like the evil queen. She falls somewhere in the middle. She’s reactive, emotional, human, sexual, confident and sometimes unsure of herself. 


When I originally wrote my character Annie Pearce in The Day of First Sun, I wrote her as a no-nonsense person, strong and smart, the girl who could survive on her own. But she didn’t feel genuine. As the story unfolded and changed, I rewrote her, gave her friends and family with whom she could interact. I gave her feelings, gave her stress. I let the other characters take charge once in awhile and offer some support. I melded two halves into one woman--a strong woman, who can take care of herself and ask for help when necessary. We’re not perfect, so why should our characters be? Instead, why can’t we make them simply authentic? 


Charlize Theron made a really compelling comment regarding her character in the movie Young Adult. She said, "Women are usually either really good prostitutes or really good mothers. Maybe women are finally getting the chance to play more honest characters," Theron said. "We usually don't get to play bad hookers or bad mothers -- or anything in between." 


Maybe it’s time to be a little more real and a little more honest.   




As part of this special promotional extravaganza sponsored by Novel Publicity, the price of the Day of First Sun eBook edition is just 99 cents this week. What’s more, by purchasing this fantastic book at an incredibly low price, you can enter to win many awesome prizes. The prizes include $450 in Amazon gift cards, a Kindle Fire, and 5 autographed copies of the book. All the info you need to win one of these amazing prizes is RIGHT HERE. Remember, winning is as easy as clicking a button or leaving a blog comment--easy to enter; easy to win! To win the prizes:

1. Purchase your copy of The Day of First Sun for just 99 cents
2. Fill-out the simple form on Novel Publicity
3. Visit today’s featured social media event

Help my blog win: The tour blogger who receives the most votes in the traffic-breaker poll will win a $100 gift card. When you visit Novel Publicity’s site to fill-out the contest entry form, don’t forget to VOTE FOR ME. 


About the book: A vampire, a rogue wizard and an army of soulless zombies are par for the course for Annie Pearce and Bobby “Cham” Chamsky of the Wizard’s Guard. But when the non-magical princess, Amelie of Amborix, is murdered by magical means, a deeper plot unfolds. Get it on Amazon. 


About the author: Behind the wheel of her ’66 Mustang Convertible, Sheryl is a constant surprise, using her sense of humor and relatable style make her books something everyone can enjoy. Visit Sheryl on her website, Twitter, Facebook, or GoodReads.

Hi everyone! I'm back with another blog tour! Today my blog is featuring an exciting and action-packed book entitled Pride's Run by Cat Kalen. I'm actually late in posting this because of some internet connection difficulties. I want to apologize to Ms. Cat Kalen and Bewitching Book Tours for this delay.

And now let's see what Ms. Cat Kalen have for us today.

Tight guy friends, and the girl who comes between them.
By

Cat Kalen

Back in my teen years I’ve watched many boys come between two best girl friends. This, of course, always puts a strain on the best friend relationship. Typically, come Saturday night one girl is left home alone because the other wants to hang out with her new boyfriend.
I always thought girls were the more emotional ones of the two sexes, and because of this I always thought of this situation as a ‘girl’ thing.

Do boys get upset when a girl comes along and gets between them and their best guy friend, their buddy, their video game partner? I never thought so, because I never thought guys cared about things like that. Then again how would I know? I’m a girl, and grew up in a household with two older sisters. I never really knew how ‘boys’ thought, felt or reacted.

It was only recently, after watching my own teen daughter come between two guys that I’ve learned how wrong I was about boys and their feelings.

Let’s call my daughter’s boyfriend Jack. Well, Jack has a best friend and we’ll call him Tom. Jack and Tom are tight, and even in the high school year book they were voted as cutest couple. They Skype every night and chat to each other while playing video games until the wee hours of the morning. Now Tom DOES have a girlfriend and he’s been going out with her for over two years. But when my daughter started dating Jack, Tom was very, very upset. It seemed to me Tom wanted both his girlfriend and his best guy friend all to himself and didn’t like the idea of sharing.

So what did Tom do?

Tom started saying nasty things about my daughter, texting nasty messages for all to see. Clearly he’s trying to break the two up.

My daughter is not a fan of Tom, naturally, but how is she supposed to handle this situation? Or, is it hers to handle? Perhaps Jack should be the one to put a stop to Tom’s antics.

For all you boys out there, what are your thoughts on the subject?

In my book Pride’s Run, Pride, who is a very strong and assertive shifter, has the opposite problem. She has two alpha males who hate each other, (because they are both vying for her attention) and all the while she’s trying to get them to work together for a greater cause. If they don’t, it could be the downfall for all and a life of captivity.

Wow, Ms. Cat Kalen's daughter have a difficult problem. I'm gonna give her some advice, I think it's Jack should be the one to put a stop on Tom's antics. It should be his move. He should be able to protect his girlfriend from his bestfriend. I think they should all just sit down and talk about their problems.


Thank you Ms. Cat Kalen for sharing this to us and for including me in your blog tour.






Book Excerpt:

California Wine Country
August 23rd, six days until full moon

The click of the lock at the top of the stairwell is my only indication that morning is upon me. My ears perk up and I listen for the coming footfalls. The weight on the stairs combined with the creaking of each wooden step will let me know which handler has come for us this time, which unlucky puppet has drawn the short end of the straw and is stuck with letting the dogs out, or in this case, the werewolves.

Sure, he’ll come sauntering down the stairs sporting a brave face and looking at me with cold, dark eyes meant to intimidate. But the wolf inside me can smell his inner fear. Despite the fact that I’m the one caged, underneath the handler’s cool, superficial shell he’s the one who’s truly afraid.

A long column of light filters down the stairs and I blink my eyes into focus as the bright rays infiltrate the pitch black cellar. I don’t really need to blink. Not with my exceptional vision. But I do it anyway because sometimes I simply like to pretend I’m a normal seventeen year old girl, one who can’t see in the dark. It’s nonsense, I know. I’m not fooling anyone. Least of all myself.

The door yawns wider and before the first heavy boot, soiled with old blood that he’ll pass off as wine stains, hits the top step, my senses go on high alert. I never know what morning will bring—or who will bring it.

A breeze rushes down the stairs ahead of the handler, carrying the aroma of the grand estate with it. I push past the metallic scent of dried blood to catch traces of grape juice in the air, a common smell on the majestic vineyard—that and illegal drugs, the estate’s real source of income. Going beyond those familiar fragrances, I breathe deeper and get hints of fresh bread baking in the upstairs kitchen. It must be Thursday. Mica, the estate’s cook, always bakes on Thursday.

In my human form I roll onto my side and lean toward the smell. Wistfully, my tongue darts out and brushes over my bottom lip. There is something about that scent that always entices me and before I can help it I envision myself eating a warm slice covered in rich creamy butter, crispy on the outside, moist and tender on the inside.

My nostrils widen, but I know the bread isn’t meant for me and not even one delicious crumb will pass over my dry lips. Not unless Mica sneaks it to me. As much as I’d love to taste her offerings I don’t like it when she takes chances for me. Disobedience is far too risky for the aging housekeeper. Despite that, my stomach growls in response to the aroma and I fight off the cravings. I can’t hope for bread when it’s unlikely that I’ll even be given a scrap of food today, especially if I can’t please him.

My master.

A boot hits the second step—the handlers always descend slowly—and as I stretch my legs out on my dusty mattress I hear the waking groans of Jace and Clover stirring in their own cages beside me. I glance their way, and that’s when my attention falls on the one empty cage in the cellar. My mother’s den. I breathe deep and fight off a pang of sadness that I cannot afford to feel.

I turn away from the empty cage and stare at the gray cement walls. I can’t bear to look at her den any longer. It only reminds me of how they killed her and how all the pups were forced to watch—to learn that disobedience comes with a price. Guilt and sorrow eat at me to think that she’d died trying to free me.

When step number five creaks, I diligently try to shake off the memories. The handler is close which means I can’t think about my mother right now. I push all thoughts of her aside, knowing that right now I have to think about my father and what he taught me before the master killed him. Never let them see your fear.

I harden myself.

Prepare.

Before my master’s puppet even reaches the bottom step, I know it’s the one they call Lawrence, the handler I hate the most. The one with a weak mind, strong back, teeth like baked beans and beady eyes that fit his ugly rat face.

He likes to call me kitten. I have a few choice names that I’d like to call him in return, but I always bite the inside of my cheek to resist the urge. Partly because I’d be whipped and partly because Miss Kara educated me and taught me all about manners. I realize that an educated wolf with manners might sound laughable. In my line of work, however, education and manners are as lethal as a bear trap to those I hunt. That’s how I lure my marks, how I bait my prey. A pretty face and good grace go a long way for a trained killer like me.

My glance wanders to my leg, the one peeking out from beneath my ratty blanket, and my eyes are drawn to the long jagged scar tracking the length of my calf. I grimace. Even with my education and manners, I never forget what I really am. I’m never allowed to.

“Hey kitten,” Lawrence says. Most would think the nickname is a play on my birth name, Pride. But I know it’s the handler’s way of cutting me down, to find control where he feels none. My parents called me Pride because I was their pride and joy. Lions live in a pride and since lions are cats…

He tosses a collar and chain into my cage. “Leash up.”

I take note of the gun in his holster before my glance locks on his. As I give him a good hard stare, he flinches. The movement is slight, but I notice it. Dressed in my knee length nightgown, long hair loose around my shoulders, I might look like an average seventeen year old girl—harmless and innocent—but we all know I’m not.

Even though Lawrence keeps his face blank and stares down at me with those dark eyes of his, he reeks of terror. The scent is like a mixture of hot sweat and rotting compost. Oh, it’s not pretty by any means. Nevertheless, the werewolf slumbering restlessly inside me feeds off his fear, thrives on it, so I inhale and draw it deep into my lungs.

Without taking my eyes off his, I take my time to leash up. My movements are slow and deliberate as I position the collar. Metal grinds metal and the sound cuts the silence as I secure it around my neck. The handler winces. So do the older, more obedient wolves that I bunk with.

Jace cuts me a glance, chocolate eyes now milky from old age warn me to behave. I realize he’s doing it for my own good, but this morning I’m cold and hungry and in no mood for Lawrence’s insults. Clover makes a noise to draw the handler’s attention away from me, and all sets of eyes shift to her.

As Clover tries to pacify Lawrence, averting her gaze in a show of respect and making small talk about the weather, Lawrence opens my mother’s former cage and pulls out her cot. He gives it a good hard shake and the breeze stirs the dust on the unfinished boards masquerading as our ceiling. The particles dance in the stairwell light before falling to the cold, cement floor.

When Lawrence tosses the cot into a corner I stiffen. It can only mean one thing. My mother has been gone for a little over a year now, and I know the master rarely keeps a cell empty for long, which makes me wonder when and how he’s going to fill it?

Who will he breed?

I cringe at the thought of bringing puppies into this world, but know it’s not something I have to worry about. The master would never breed a wolf like me. My mother always said I was a survivor, the only pup in a litter of three to make it, but hey, a runt is a runt. Thanks to Darwin and his theory of ‘natural selection’ a runt is a heritable trait that a pack can do without. When it comes to canine reproduction, only one motto dictates: runts need not apply.

Deep in the bowels of the estate’s basement, the master keeps other wolves, separating the strong and young from one another. I’m smart enough to understand that he distances us so we can’t conspire against him or speak telepathically. Wolves can only use telepathy when in animal form, however. Well, most wolves that is. Oddly enough, I along with Stone, an alpha wolf two years my senior are able to communicate while in our human forms.

Sometimes the master does in-house breeding, sometimes he sends us out to one of his associates—other drug-lords who also harbor werewolves. It’s like he’s running a regular old puppy mill in here. Except his puppies kill for him. Which begs the question, what does my master have in store for me today?

Author Bio: 

 




Cat Kalen is a multi published author in the romance genre under two pen names, Cat is a wife, mom, sister, daughter, and friend. She loves dogs, sunny weather, anything chocolate (she never says no to a brownie) pizza and watermelon. She has two teenagers who keep her busy with their never ending activities, and a husband who is convinced he can turn her into a mixed martial arts fan. Cat can never find balance in her life, is always trying to find time to go to the gym, can never keep up with emails, Facebook or Twitter and tries to write page-turning books that her readers will love.

A maritime native and former financial officer, Cat has lived all over Canada but has finally settled down in her childhood hometown with her family.

Links:

www.catkalen.com

www.yabeyond.com

Twitter: @catkalen
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