To celebrate #ThrowbackThursday on Twitter, I thought I'd glance back at my career in literary fiction.  Yes, before I wrote about ghosts and all things paranormal, I was published in several literary magazines.  I was actually establishing a small name for myself when, like it usually does, life got in the way.

Like so many people do, I let the day to day tasks of living distract me from my lifelong dream. Fast forward to 2010....I buried my father and my husband eighteen months apart.  I was reeling with no idea of what to do with my life...So I started writing more stories featuring characters from my literary short stories and Ghost Country became the result.

Looking back, I remember being terrified about everything.  What would happen to me and my daughter?  What was I supposed to do with my life now?

At times, the fear would become so bad that I couldn't even breathe.  I couldn't speak to anyone about it because it was all on me now....I was supposed to be the strong one....I had my daughter and my mother to take care of and I couldn't show any weakness.  So to keep from screaming, I wrote....And wrote.....And wrote.

I think I would have just given up if it wasn't for working on those stories and as I did, I remembered the way I used to feel about writing and the sort of person that I used to be.  Little by little the fear went away and I figured out how to make my life work.

Ghost Country will never be my most popular work, but through it, I paid homage to my Native American roots and got back to the person I used to be.

Amazon Product Description:

Carrying echoes of Amy Tan and Rebecca Wells, Ghost Country takes the reader into the lives of three Cherokee women and the lives of their modern day daughters. Told in a series of vignettes that alternate from the era of the Civil Rights Movement, Woodstock, and the Vietnam War, to the present day. Each story carries the reader through a world where a birthday wish can make people disappear; where a child, after being told that she is nothing, can find her way back to the forgotten Cherokee traditions; and where a woman can give her daughter a treasured bit of advice thanks to a dead rock star.

Yesterday I expressed my complete cover envy for the beautiful Hidden Wings cover, so I thought I would honor the author for #WriterWednesday

Amazon Author Bio

My family is what keeps my heart beating, and my world a happy place to be.

I love reading great books that whisk me away from reality, even if for a little while. :)

Writing is my passion. I love creating new worlds and new characters, and taking wondrous adventures with them. It's the most awesome feeling to have others join me on those adventures... and I've only just begun. :)

My debut novel, In My Dreams, has been picked up by Crushing Hearts and Black Butterfly Publishing. It will be out December 14, 2012 with a NEW Cover, NEW edits & NEW chapter!!!

My next novel, Hidden Wings (Book 1 in a series), a YA Paranormal will be out January 18, 2013!!! Watch for them!!! :)
One day I will find my magic wardrobe, and ride away on my magical unicorn... ♥ Until then... I'll keep writing! ;)

HAPPY READING!

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Twitter: @CameoRenae

What happens when Darkness and Light collide?

Seventeen is a life changing age for Emma Wise.
As her family's sole survivor in a car crash, she is left with a broken arm, and a few scrapes and bruises. But these are only outward marks; inside, her heart is broken and the pieces scattered.

Whisked away to Alaska, to an aunt she’s never met, Emma starts over. Secrets unveil themselves and now…she doesn't even know who or what she is.

A centuries old prophecy places Emma in the heart of danger. Creatures of horrifying and evil proportions are after her, and it will take Emma, her aunt, and six, gorgeously, captivating Guardians to keep her safe. But, if she can survive until her eighteenth birthday... things will change.

As many of you know, I am all about anything to do with the Romani and Irish Traveller world.  My next novel features a group of Irish Travellers and I am a huge fan of My Big Fat American Gypsy Wedding (I tell myself that it is research).  Well, now I can also get my fix with the new Gypsy Sisters on TLC!

Mellie is Nettie's younger sister and is often dubbed the black sheep of the family. At 23 years old, Mellie is already twice divorced and hates the idea of settling down, being an obedient wife and having children.

Her reputation as a stripper with a violent temper has earned her the town nickname "Hellie Mellie." Nettie feels that Mellie has brought shame on the Stanley family name, but she follows in the footsteps of her notorious mother, Lottie Mae Stanley, a con artist featured on "America's Most Wanted" now serving time in jail. Mellie was only 13 when her mother went to jail, so Nettie played a large role in raising Mellie, which only further complicates their already contentious relationship.

Kayla is the epitome of a traditional gypsy housewife. She loves to cook and clean, and she's instantly drawn to anything that has bling; even her braces sparkle!

A native of Martinsburg, West Virginia, Kayla and her cousin Nettie were raised so closely that they consider themselves sisters.

Kayla ran away from home at 15 and married her high school sweetheart, Richard. Fifteen years later, they are still happily married and have 5 children together. Now that her oldest daughter, Danielle, is turning 14, Kayla hopes that she doesn't follow too closely in her mother's footsteps and instead takes her time finding a good gypsy boy to marry!

Laura isn't a gypsy by blood, but she considers herself a true gypsy at heart! Laura was welcomed into the gypsy community when she married Kayla's brother, Gus. Gus is a blacktopper, meaning that he lays pavement for a living. His job requires the family to move around frequently, and Laura has grown used to life on the road, traveling between North Carolina and West Virginia, where her sister-in-law (and best friend) Kayla lives.

Laura and Gus have two little girls and continue to try for a third child -- they're hoping for a boy!

I am so looking forward to this show!  It premiers Sunday February 10th on TLC.  Who will be watching it with me?

Wow!  So much has happened in the past week!  I really had some good writing sessions and then....I got my title!  Yes, my next book will be Once.  To celebrate, I thought I'd reveal the first chapter!  I'd love to know what you think!

This is only the second draft of the chapter, so there still might be a few typos and remember.....Things can always change!

Chapter 1

I woke up afraid. It was no dream that roused me. It was the stillness.

No! Not yet... I’m not ready...

I sat up in the chair where I does, and listened. All I heard was the steady chirping of crickets outside the open windows, but still I paused, straining my ears.

Was she still breathing?

I pushed myself up and out of the chair, feeling the immediate ache in my neck and back. I crept across the wooden floor, avoiding the sections of the room where I knew the boards creaked when stepped on.

Across the room, tucked into my old twin bed from the attic, lay my grandmother. I leaned against the wall and looked down at her frail body, focusing on her bony chest until I was sure that it was still rising and falling with her breath.

She was still alive...

I gave up the idea of trying to go back to sleep as the sound of the early morning was growing louder: the garbage truck banging to a stop up the street, door slamming a few houses down, and far off in the distance the crow a rooster.

I walked over to the window and looked out at the pale, predawn Corydon. The air was still dark and close, but up Capitol Avenue, the early morning light was just starting to turn the clouds from a deep charcoal to a smoky purple color.

Seeing that, I breathed a sigh of relief. My grandmother survived another night.

As if she too could feel the impending dawn, grandma began to stir; no doubt she would be meeting more pain medicine soon.

“Grandma,” I whispered just in case she wasn't awake yet. “Do you need anything?”

“Harmony?”

I left the window and went to her bedside, “I’m here Grandma.”

“What time is it?” She asked in a hoarse whisper followed by a cough that racked her cancer stricken body.

I waited until she quieted and settled back again against the pillows, then I pulled the blankets up around her.

“I don't know for sure,” I said softly. “But it’s early; the sun isn't even up yet.”

She nodded, but said nothing as she closed her eyes again. When she became still once more, I got up again and went to the window, pushing back the sheer white curtains to reveal a now foggy dawn.

As I stood there looking out the window and listening to her raspy breath, I let the panic and the hopelessness I felt ever since the doctor said that there was nothing else they could do creep out of the pit of my stomach. It settled in the base of my throat so that I wasn’t for sure if I was going to start screaming or if I was going to vomit.

I can’t let her die... I can’t let her die...

Those words had become my mantra over the last few months. I said those words to myself when I first heard the diagnosis. I said them again when I gave up all hopes of college to stay home and take care of her.  I said them once again when the chemotherapy and radiation failed. And in these last few weeks, and we both knew it was the last weeks, I must’ve repeated them a thousand times a day.

“Why is it getting dark again?”

Her hoarse whisper brought me out of my reverie and sure enough, the dawn was disappearing behind a thick gray mist.

“It’s just the fog coming in Grandma.”

She gasped. I turned to see her struggling to set up even though she was far too weak to do so.

“No,” she whimpered, panic and gasping for her breath. “It can’t be.”

I ran to her side, “What is it? Do I need to take you back to the hospital?”

She pushed me away with her feeble hands, shaking her head adamantly, “No! Go lock the doors!”

“What?”

“You heard me," she choked out. "Lock all the doors and don't let anyone in!”

I took a deep breath and sighed. The doctors had warned me about this. They all said that as she got closer to the end that she would suffer with bouts of dementia, I just wasn't ready to be there yet.

“Grandma,” I pleaded, even though the mantra was starting in my head again. “I need you calm down. It’s me, Harmony, and everything is going to be fine.”

She grabbed my arm, clamping down on it was surprising strength.

“I know who the hell you are,” she hissed. “Now you listen to me and do as you're told. Go and lock the damn door.”

“Grandma why –“

“Are you going to make me get out of this bed and do it myself?”

“No ma’am,” I whispered.

I pulled away from her grip and went into the kitchen and lock the back door, even pulling the shade down for good measure. I then went back into the program and lock that door.

“I locked them all Grandma,” I said as I stopped to peek out at the now gloomy morning.

“You’re a good girl,” she said in a raspy whisper.

When I turned from the window, I took one look at her vacant stare and I knew that she was gone.

****

CLOSED DUE TO DEATH.

I taped a piece of paper with those words written in my shaky scrawl in the window of my grandmother’s  feed store, hoping it would save me from having to make me uncomfortable calls to our customers and our one employee. It just seemed wrong to do that when the funeral home took her body away less than an hour ago.

“Sorry to hear about your grandmother,” a woman called from the sidewalk when I stepped outside.

I didn’t even turn around to see who it was; I just nodded and continued struggling with the antique lock on the door. I was exhausted and bleary-eyed, and just couldn't seem to get my clumsy fingers to work right. I told myself my first order of business would be to replace the troublesome locks, but then I immediately felt guilty as if I was being disloyal to my grandmother.

It was when I stepped away that I heard the music, a strange whistling type of sound, coming from further down Capitol Avenue. On any other day, I would've welcomed a happy tune, but today I just wanted to get back to the little house next door and get some sleep.

Despite that, I walked down to the corner where crowd was beginning to gather.

“What's going on?” I asked to no one specific.

It was Mrs. Jennings from the diner that answered me.

“Looks like the circus is coming to town,” she said as she craned her neck to see down the street. When she turned and saw that it was me that she was speaking to, she blushed. “So sorry to hear about your grandmother.”

I nodded and tried not to flinch. I wasn’t ready to face any of it yet, but people just kept bringing it up. A few others turned and mumbled their sympathies and all that I could do was just look at them stupidly.

What did they want from me? I didn't know what to say or do.

Just when I thought I would scream from the pressure of all those eyes on me, everyone turned back to the approaching parade.

I could just now make out the line of color and movement coming up the street. People began to crowd the sidewalks, cheering at random moments and clapping loudly.

As the parade moved closer, over the heads and shoulders of those around me, I could see the tall man out front. He was dressed in all black; his salt-and-pepper hair belied his wrinkle free face. He looked from side to side with stunning green eyes, tipping his hat now and then.

I shrank back as his eyes met mine. He seemed to slow his snail-like pace even more; he reached up and touched the brim of his hat, and then moved on without ever changing expression. No one else seemed to notice the exchange and merely clapped as he walked by.

Walking behind him was an assortment of tumbling and flipping men and women. Each one painted and costumed as clowns of various expressions. Just as they passed, a ball of fire shot into the air. I jumped and so did those around me as a beautiful girl with bright red hair twirled so that her black dress fanned out around her legs. She waved the torches in her hand before blowing on them again to send a burst of flames up into the air.

She smiled widely, seeming to enjoy the way that people shrank back away from the heat. She even went so far as to wink at you the man standing near before dancing on down the street.

At the end of the parade, plodding along and shimmering in the sun, came the purple and gold calliope wagon pulled by two massive gray draft horses. At their heads, leading them along was a younger version of the man at the start of the parade and a slender girl perhaps just a few years younger than me. Even over the music I could hear the two of them speaking to the horses softly in words that I didn't understand.

How odd...

“I haven't seen a parade like that since I was a kid,” one woman said as they went by and the crowd began to break up.

I did what you’re supposed to do in a situation like that, I smiled as if I agreed with her and then walked away as quickly as possible.

When I reached our small house next to the feed store, I could see that the parade reached the fairgrounds across the street and the participants stood in the field talking in groups. I was too tired to wonder what they were doing or when they would be setting up the big top.

I went inside and closed the door, hoping they would at least be quiet enough that I could get some sleep.

I went straight upstairs, not wanting to pause in the main room where my grandmother’s bed lay empty. I crawled into my bed and fell asleep, still in my clothes, with the afternoon shining through the windows and over me.

The sun was shining defiantly the morning my grandmother was buried. I had hoped for rain, that way maybe everyone else would stay away and I could do this alone, but instead it was a beautiful day. Even though it was only mid-June, but the air was already taken on the burnt smell of dying vegetation and baked earth that it would hold until autumn.

Despite the miserable heat, most of the town was gathered in the cemetery to pay their condolences and say their final goodbyes. We were bunched together in our dark morning clothes in the sparse shade, uselessly fanning ourselves with our hands.

The minister’s voice droned on and on, low and soothing. I didn't listen to his words only the sound of his voice as I tried to make myself believe that this was really happening and that my grandmother was really gone forever.

I looked back down at the casket, hovering above the gaping holes. I hated to think of her going down into hole, filling the empty space between the slender headstone of my mother and the plane gray marble marker of the grandfather I never knew.

I didn’t want to look at that wooden box and think of my grandmother inside it, all dressed in her Sunday best. Just thought of her being put away forever made me want to cry.

I only have to make it through the next few minutes... If I can do that then I'll go home and cry and peace... Then maybe tomorrow I'll just cry in the morning...

That was how I saw my life stretching out over the next few days, crying alone now and then until I figured out how was supposed to survive in a world without my grandmother.

The minister went on and on talking about heaven and hell her soul was finally at rest, but I didn’t want her to be at rest, I wanted her to be here with me. I had prayed that God would take her quickly and not let her suffer, but now I was selfish enough to want her back.

I didn't mean it... I didn't mean it...

I could feel everyone’s sympathetic eyes on me and I hated all of their pity. I couldn’t stand the way that they all watched me as if waiting for me to cry or scream or something. I wish they would just go away and let me mourn in private.

There was a movement of black across the way that drew my attention. I looked up to see a few circus members from the parade walking up with their heads back out.

What are they doing here?

They lined up just beyond the crowd. I recognized the tall lean man that led the parade, the redheaded fire eater, the black haired slender girl, and the dark haired man that led the horses. The closer wrinkled and the girls covered their heads and dark scarves and some sort, other than that, they looked like anyone else gathered there.

Just as I was about to look away, someone near me gasped.

I looked over and the elderly Mr. O’Connor was staring at the visitors from the circus. His wrinkled face was pale, but he said nothing as he glared at them with his watery eyes.

Each member of the circus looked up, almost in unison, all of them with the same expression on their faces, an odd mix of sadness and secrecy. None of them moved and none of them looked away.

It was strange the way they were all looking at that old man and even more peculiar was the way that he glowered back at them. Even though the minister was still talking, more and more people were taking notice of this strange staring contest.

Just when I thought it couldn't get any stranger, the tall one that led the parade leaned over and whispered something to the man that had led the horses.

Then, as if they all heard and understood, the entire group turned and walked out of the cemetery as the minister began the last part of his sermon.

“Ashes to ashes... Dust to dust...”

I watched him leave and stared at the spot where they had stood, anything to keep from watching as my grandmother's coffin was lowered into the ground.

As  always, I've added more books to my TBR list and this time it is Leopard Moon by Jeanette Battista.  So on this #WriterWednesday, take this chance to get to know this talented writer better.

Bio from Amazon Author Page

I graduated with an English degree with a concentration in medieval literature which explains my possibly unhealthy fixation on edged weapons and cathedral architecture. I spent a summer in England and Scotland studying the historical King Arthur, which did nothing to curb my obsession. To satisfy my adrenaline cravings--since sword fighting is not widely accepted in these modern times--I rode a motorcycle at ridiculously high speeds, got some tattoos, and took kickboxing and boxing classes. I gave up the bike when my daughter came along, although I still get pummeled at the gym on a regular basis.

When I'm not writing or working, I spend time with family, hike, read, make decadent brownies, buy killer boots, and play Pocket Frogs. I wish there were more hours in the day so I could actually do more of these things.

Leopard Moon

"The Moon series is filled with action and romance, shape shifters and strong heroines."--Melissa Marr, NYT bestselling author of the Wicked Lovely series

How do you disappear when you come from a family of predators?

A wereleopard, Kess is forced to flee her home and family in Miami once her brother's obsession with her turns violent. She runs from city to city, trying to stay one step ahead of the investigators her family has dispatched to bring her home. Kess ends up in the mountains of North Carolina and attracts the attention of Cormac, a young man with a secret of his own. As she attempts to live as normal a life as her were-nature allows, her brother Sek continues to hunt for her. He believes she is the key to revitalizing their weakened clan and is driven to extreme measures to ensure their continued existence. As Kess' relationship with Cormac deepens, Sek closes in, threatening Cormac's life and Kess' freedom.

Whenthe moon rises, the hunt is on….

Well after a very busy weekend doing the Dance Mom thing with my daughter, I'm so glad to be back to my little writing cave!  Of course being back does present problems......Like a title!

Never before has it taken me this long to come up with a title for one of my books.  Usually, I have a title in mind before I finish writing the outline, but not this time.

So here is my "first draft" blurb and even after I wrote this.....Still I got nothing.

So, here I am, back to work and not any closer to a title.  At this rate, I'll have the novel done before I come up with a title!  Oh well, it's all part of a writer's life.

I am a huge fan of Carrie Ann Ryan and have spotlighted her work before on this blog, but she has a new novella out and that makes her my pick for #WriterWednesday.

Carrie Ann Ryan is a bestselling paranormal and contemporary romance author. After spending too much time behind a lab bench, she decided to dive into the romance world and find her werewolf mate - even if it's just in her books. Happy endings are always near - even if you have to get over the challenges of falling in love first.
Carrie Ann's Redwood Pack series is a bestselling series that has made the shifter world even more real to her and has allowed the Dante's Circle and Holiday, Montana series to be born. She's also an avid reader and lover of romance and fiction novels. She loves meeting new authors and new worlds. Any recommendations you have are appreciated. Carrie Ann lives in New England with her husband and two kittens.

Carrie Ann loves hearing from readers. You can find her at:

Website: http://www.carrieannryan.com/
Blog: http://www.carrieannryan.blogspot.com/
Facebook Page:http://www.facebook.com/pages/Carrie-Ann-Ryans-Author-Page/243643205647654
Facebook Friend:http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100002584098860
Goodreads:http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5360266.Carrie_Ann_Ryan
Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/CarrieAnnRyan

Redwood Pack Book 4.5

Hannah Jamenson has babies on the brain. It seems that her sisters-in-law are expanding their family in the blink of an eye, but Hannah feels left behind. Every time that little test reads negative a little part of her dies and she feels like her Healing powers are failing her. Her mates, Josh and Reed, are doing everything they can to help her deal with their trials and losses, but they too feel like there is nothing they can do.

Just when the lines of what they mean to each other go out of focus, an enemy from Josh's past is back to prove the things that go bump in the night are real and everything they had held dear is now in jeopardy. In order to fight back and find their way, they'll need to put everything on the line before they lose it all.

Author's Note: This is a novella set between books 4 and 5 to give you a taste of Reed, Josh, and Hannah. It is best that you have already immersed yourselves in the Redwood Pack world, however even new readers will enjoy a glimpse of the Redwood's favorite triad.

Okay, so even though I'm struggling to stay motivated today, I can always take some time out for research!  My latest WIP is all about Irish Mythology and I'm loving it!

I don't know about you, but anytime that I think of Ireland, I think of a green countryside and a touch of the mysterious.  Everyone knows about shamrocks, St. Patrick, fairies, and Leprechauns, but what about Pookas, changelings, and banshees?

Pookas- A Pooka is a creature that normally only wrecks havoc and would be considered a mild nuisance, but if a Pooka stands outside, calls to you, and you go out and answer it, it will carry you away forever.

Changeling- A changeling is the deformed (human looking) child of a fairy.  The fairy would trade that baby for a human baby.  Changeling are ill tempered and only happy when misfortune befalls others.

Banshee- Most people know of banshees, frightened people are said to scream like a banshee, but why do banshees scream?  Their scream is said to predict or cause death.  Not something you want to hear.

What are some of your favorite Iri

I've been waiting for this reveal and it was SO worth the wait!

Temptation. Desire. Deception.

Everything about her is enthralling, enticing… until everything about her becomes deadly.

Alluring you into the center of her world, she’ll deprive you of reason, breath… life. And because you can’t help it, you’ll let her, and death never felt so good.

There is only one rule where she is from: Don’t become attached to your Allure, and Ryleigh has already broken that rule.

The decision to stay was easy, but being ready to handle everything that comes with her choice, is more then she bargained for when something unexpected happens. Ryleigh is thrown into a world she knows nothing about, and a past she can’t remember. Time is not Ryleigh’s only enemy, but the lack of it, will be the end of her immortality if she doesn’t remember what she is or the life she needs to take.

When the cost of immortality means consuming the life of someone you love, could you do it?!

Well, here it is, a brand new year.  If you are like me, it sort of crept up on you.  Anyway, I after I got over my shock that it was really here, I sat down and figured out my plan for 2013.

First off is always my family.  I want to try to carve out more time for family.  My daughter is growing up so fast that it frightens me!

So, next would be my current WIP which is blooming into a full blown series!  What I thought would just be a single book, has now given way to four books about a group of supernatural creatures hiding out among a group of Irish Travellers.

Lastly would be to branch out to other indie authors.  I need to read more of their books, connect on social media, and help spread the word about the many talented authors out there! 

I hope that the new year is treating you well so far and that you've made your own plan to make this year