Today is the day! The Perilous Journey of the Not-So-Innocuous Girl is live! I’m so excited to share this story with all of you. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it.
Here’s the link to purchase from the publisher – better for me and available internationally with no restrictions.
Also available wherever fine books are sold online.
Cheers lovers!
M9B Friday Reveal: Chapter One of The Perilous Journey of the Not-So-Innocuous Girl by Leigh Statham and Giveaway #M9BFridayReveals
Welcome to this week’s M9B Friday Reveal!
This week, we are revealing the first chapter for
presented by Month9Books!
Be sure to enter the giveaway found at the end of the post!
Lady Marguerite lives a life most 17th century French girls can only dream of: Money, designer dresses, suitors and a secure future. Except, she suspects her heart may be falling for her best friend Claude, a common smithie in the family’s steam forge. When Claude leaves for New France in search of a better life, Marguerite decides to follow him and test her suspicions of love. Only the trip proves to be more harrowing than she anticipated. Love, adventure and restitution await her, if she can survive the voyage.
Title: THE PERILOUS JOURNEY OF
THE NOT-SO-INNOCUOUS GIRL
Publication date: 2015
Publisher: Month9Books, LLC.
Author: Leigh Statham
The Perilous Journey of the Not-So-Innocuous Girl
Leigh Statham
Chapter One
Marguerite held the brass cricket gingerly in her hands. She kept it tucked under the table while she turned it over, her fingers blindly memorizing every feature. She knew it was childish for a sixteen-year-old to have a favorite toy, but she couldn’t help it. The design fascinated her. Occasionally she would trip the mechanism and the cricket literally sprang to life, launching itself against the underside of the table with a loud knock.
“What was that?” Madame Pomphart cried.
Marguerite caught the little metal bug with one hand and tucked it into the folds of her skirts. “Nothing,” she lied.
“I heard a noise.” The sour-faced governess slapped the desk with her pointer and stepped closer. “What are you hiding?”
Marguerite didn’t flinch. “You must be hearing things again. You are getting rather old.”
Madame Pomphart swung her pointer, making sound contact with Marguerite’s shoulder.
“Ah!” Marguerite grabbed her shoulder and jumped to her feet, knocking her chair over. She quite forgot about the little toy cricket which launched right at the governess’s face.
“What? Oh!” Madame Pomphart batted the air and stumbled backward, dropping her stick as the cricket ricocheted off her nose and landed at Marguerite’s feet. “How dare you bring vermin into my classroom? Your father will hear about this. Lord Vadnay will not be pleased!”
Marguerite scooped up her prize and ran for the door, grateful for the chance to escape.
“Get back here or you’ll receive double lashings!”
It was too late. Marguerite ran much faster than her teacher and was already halfway down the wide corridor. Lined with portraits of long-dead relatives and her father’s collection of modern weaponry, each display tempted her with thoughts of challenging the governess to a duel. She could easily scoop up one of the automated cat-o-nine-tails and turn back to the classroom. She rather fancied the idea, actually. But it wasn’t the right time or the right way to handle her heavy-handed caretaker, and honestly, she wasn’t quite brave enough to do more than talk back—not yet.
Her fear began to lift as she lightly descended the grand curving stairway to the ballroom, sprinting over the marble tiles and through the large doors to the gardens. The French summer sun blinded her. Marguerite blinked as she continued to run around the fountain filled with automated koi. A servant perched on the edge of the large pool, brass fish in hand. Its tail clicked furiously back and forth as he tried to oil it. The late-summer roses bloomed bright with color all around her. Butterflies seemed to flit merrily on every blossom, cheering her on. Human and automaton servants worked side by side grooming the large hedges … They jumped out of her way and bowed. None of them seemed surprised to see the young lady of the house running out of doors and they all knew where she was headed.
She tried to slip away to the cool shelter of the small glen beyond the lavender fields every chance she could, but since her father came up with the idea that she needed to be a “real lady,” it had become more difficult to sneak away.
At this point, she could have stopped. Pomphart wouldn’t follow her now, but it felt so good to move quickly after being at a table all morning. Her heart beat like an auto-hammer in her chest by the time she reached the work fields. More automatons and human servants stopped and bowed to the master’s daughter. Marguerite paid them no attention.
Finally reaching the small grove of trees, she flopped merrily on the soft grass and took a deep breath, then giggled to herself. She was safe, for now. The wind picked up and tousled the leaves overhead, sending bits of sunlight swimming wildly around her. The grass outside the glen rustled under the heavy thud of work boots: Claude.
“Hullo!” His voice sounded merry as he peered through the low branches that poked and tickled at the earth, surprised to see her there so early. “How’d you manage to beat me?” His wavy, light brown hair was just shaggy enough to soften his strong jaw and angular nose. His cheek was smeared with gear oil, right up to the corner of his smiling blue eyes. He was too tall for his work trousers and his chest had grown too broad for his cotton shirt. The buttons tugged a bit, but he wasn’t the type to care about his clothes. He pulled his welding goggles off of his head and wiped the sweat on his brow with the arm of his shirt.
“I ran.” She smiled wickedly.
Claude flopped down in the grass beside her. “That’s not very ladylike, and Pomphart doesn’t usually let you out till half past.”
“I had to run after this marvelous toy you made for me attacked her.” She held up the cricket like a prize gem freshly plucked from the earth.
“Marguerite!” he cried. “I asked you to keep it safe, not use it to get yourself tossed out of ladyhood!”
“It was an accident. I swear. The lessons are just so boring. I needed something to do, so I had it under the table. She’s such a brute. You should have seen how she hit me with her blasted pointer.”
“She struck you again?” his face turned dark.
“Yes, but it’s nothing, just a welt on the shoulder.” The last thing she wanted was to be the damsel in distress.
“Still.” Claude’s brow furrowed. “It’s not right. Ladies don’t strike other ladies. Please keep good care of that little bug. It took me a long time to build and I didn’t record the plans. I may need to borrow it back someday.”
“All right.” Disappointed at his lack of enthusiasm for her naughtiness, she carried on. “But you should have seen her face! If only I could have a portrait made of that. I’d hang it over my bed and have a miniature made to keep by my heart.”
A nasally voice attached to a pointy-faced, pale girl in bright pink skirts burst through the cool glen. “Whose miniature are you keeping by your heart? You haven’t even had your ball yet.”
“Hello, Vivienne.” Marguerite sighed without enthusiasm.
“Marguerite has just sealed her doom,” Claude chimed in. “She threw the cricket I made her at Pomphart’s face today, so there may not be a ball.”
“That’s rubbish! I did no such thing. It just got away from me and bounced right off her nose.” Marguerite laughed again while recalling the image, but Claude’s words made her a bit nervous.
“Oh dear,” cried Vivienne. “What are you going to do?”
Of course Vivienne would make a big deal out of it, Marguerite didn’t expect anything less from her childish neighbor.
“I’m not sure. That’s why I came straight here.” She turned pointedly to Claude. “I thought you’d want to celebrate my freedom and take the rest of the day off.”
Claude was quick to reply, “I’m afraid I can’t. Lots to be finished at the forge and I am on stall-mucking duty with the bots.”
“What do you possibly have to finish at the forge that’s so important?”
Claude raised his eyebrows at her. “A certain girl’s father has requested automatic serving dishes made of twenty-four-karat gold for her introduction to society.”
“Oh my!” Vivienne drew a dramatic breath. “How elegant. I so wish I were old enough to come.”
“Don’t worry,” Marguerite patted the girl’s knee, “I’m sure you can borrow them for your own ball.”
“Marguerite … ” Claude hissed at her.
It wasn’t a very kind thing to say, but Marguerite had never been very fond of Vivienne. She mostly endured her company because she was the only girl within a hundred miles that was close to the same age and station as Marguerite. That, and Claude had insisted she be kind to her.
“You’re right, Claude.” Marguerite smiled in repentance. “I’m sure your father will have loads of wonderful things for the guests to marvel at when your time comes, Vivienne. Still, it would be nice to have both of you there. I suppose I will be forced to talk to strangers.”
“I can’t believe you’re not excited!” Vivienne chattered. “New dresses! Handsome suitors!”
“I am excited,” Marguerite cut her off, “to have it over and done with! Dressing up might be fun, but dressing up to catch a man is not my idea of a good time.”
“Don’t be vulgar.” Vivienne blushed. “It’s not like that at all.”
Claude cut in, “I’d love to stay and discuss this matter with you girls, but I do have a few chafing dishes waiting for their motors in the shop.”
Marguerite tensed at the thought of not only being left alone with Vivienne, but also being without Claude’s protection should Pomphart come looking for her. “Do you think I could come help you at the forge today?”
“Not if you want me to get anything done.” Claude smiled merrily.
“Stop it! You know I’m a whiz with gear-work.”
“When you are actually interested in the work, yes, but I’m afraid that auto-spoons and brass tureens would bore you to death.”
Marguerite tried to make her eyes look large and beseeching, but she knew it was no use.
“No. But you can walk me there. I forgot my lunch anyway,” Claude said as he reached to help Marguerite up.
“I didn’t exactly have time to grab a snack as I fled the dungeons,” Marguerite quipped.
“Oh! I know!” Vivienne was bursting. “Let’s have lunch in town today. You’re not going back to your lessons are you? And Claude is busy with work. It will be such fun girl time!”
Marguerite sighed, but Vivienne was right. There was no way for her to return to the estate house without being trapped by Pomphart, and she had nothing to do if Claude insisted on finishing his chores. Still, she was uneasy about the idea of being on her own with Pomphart’s wrath hovering around an unknown corner waiting to pounce. The woman was ruthless when no one of importance was watching. She had a way of getting Marguerite off on her own and exacting whatever form of punishment she felt was suitable for the crime. Marguerite tried to complain to her father, but he wouldn’t listen, he thought Marguerite just didn’t want lessons anymore.
Claude knew all of this and sensed her fears in her quiet gaze.
“Come with me, both of you. I have someone I want you to meet.” Claude smiled.
Marguerite jumped up at his tug, tossed her wavy brown hair, and set her skirts aright, glad someone was helping her make up her mind. “Very well.”
“Hooray! Oh, I know just the place,” Vivienne said. “There is a new little patisserie I saw the other day I’ve been aching to try.” She skipped up the hill ahead of the other two, babbling on about buns and cakes and half sandwiches.
Claude reached for Marguerite’s arm and squeezed a bit. He used this gesture when he was about to chastise her, but she didn’t think she’d been that rude to Vivienne. The girl got on her nerves with every word, but her intentions were good and Marguerite wasn’t cruel by nature, just impatient.
“What?” she hissed.
“I have some news, but I wanted to tell you first.”
“Oh?” Relieved not to be in trouble, but also perplexed, Marguerite wished more now than ever that Vivienne would just skip into oblivion with her bouncy blonde curls and scattered thoughts.
“Yes. You know how we spoke a few weeks ago about my plans?”
“Did you find a position in Paris?” Marguerite could scarcely contain herself. Her friend was so talented, and she knew better than anyone that he was wasted working as a bondservant on her father’s estate. If he could secure an apprenticeship in Paris he could come back to La Rochelle as a master tradesman. Plus she could visit him there. Still, apprenticeships were hard to come by.
“No, I think it’s better than that.”
“What could be better than Paris?” In her mind, crowds of well-dressed ladies paraded down glittering avenues while the latest autocarts passed by in a blur of technology and innovation. Paris was the hub of all things Marguerite admired.
“I’ve signed into His Majesty’s service. As of next week, I’ll be an official member of the Royal Corp of Engineers.”
“You what?” She was stunned. It took her a moment to sort out her emotions. How could he have made this type of decision without consulting her? They had shared everything since they discovered each other as bored children on the estate a decade ago.
“I knew you’d be angry with me for not telling you beforehand, but an opportunity just presented itself and I knew it was right—I had to take it.”
“No, I’m not angry at all. Just shocked. You know how my father feels about the military.”
“But you see, that’s just it. I won’t have to worry about your father anymore, I won’t owe him anything. My first assignment is to New France.”
“Are you two coming or not? I’m starved!” Vivienne had doubled back when she realized she was talking to herself.
Marguerite wasn’t sure she could eat or talk at that moment. She wasn’t sure she could even take another step.
Leigh Statham was raised in the wilds of rural Idaho, but found her heart in New York City. She worked as a waitress, maid, artist, math teacher, nurse, web designer, art director, thirty-foot inflatable pig and mule wrangler before she settled down in the semi-quiet role of wife, mother and writer. She resides in North Carolina with her husband, four children, five chickens and two suspected serial killer cats. If the air is cool and the sun is just coming up over the horizon, you can find her running the streets of her small town, plotting her next novel with the sort of intensity that will one day get her hit by a car.
Connect with the Author: Website |Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads
Complete the Rafflecopter below for a chance to win!
The book will be sent upon the titles release.
Upside: Excellent cast, excellent adaptation, excellent effects. While it was abbreviated a bit, I felt they stayed largely close to the book. Very enjoyable two hours.
Downside: I really missed the original language and voice that Dashner so expertly added to the book. Instead, Hollywood chose to pepper the movie with common curses. It wasn’t necessary and I felt it took away from the original awesomeness of TheGlade.
Final Pronouncement: GO!! Fantastic movie. Fantastic book. Watch or read in any order. I can’t wait to go back and see it at IMAX.
Cheers Mr. Dashner! You’ve earned this!
This little top ten challenge is going around Facebook. I thought it might be fun to take some time here to explain my choices.
My top ten life changing books. Not my most favorite books, but books that changed my life in significant ways . (In no specific order.)
1. Lord of the Rings – when my family moved to SLC I was 12 years old. I was lost, sad, lonely, and assigned to sleep in my murdered uncle’s now vacant room. One closet was still full of his belongings. Of course I snooped through his things late at night when I couldn’t sleep. I was convinced he was haunting me. It was my way of getting revenge. Plus, I wanted to get to know this man better. I found his well worn copies of LOTR one night and decided to start reading.
I was instantly sucked into Tolkien’s world. It was so much better than my own I decided to swap. I began reading all night and sleepwalking through my days. My grades plummeted and my parents thought I was on drugs. What was I going to tell them ? No mom, I’m hot for elves?? It got so bad that after I read them all three times without stopping, I decided to read the index and learn to write in runes. On my fourth time through, I decided that I may have a tiny problem, and I put them back in the closet. The nice thing was that after that I slept better and felt like my uncle and I might have something in common now besides just a bedroom.
2. A Wrinkle in Time – my third grade teacher read this book aloud to us when I was 8. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on everything else L’Engle wrote after that. I typed her a letter at one point about how much I loved her books. I asked her how to become a writer. I told her I wanted to be just like her when I grew up. She wrote me back. Her advice: keep on reading.
I’m still a huge fan. She taught me that girls can do anything.
3. A Tree Grows in Brooklyn – I used to watch this movie when I was a kid. When I moved to NYC I picked up the book. It was so sweet to find Francie, a girl I loved from childhood, and learn so much more about her life, family, and the city I felt was my true home. It’s a wonderful read.
4. Wild Swans by Jung Chang – a magnificent story of three generations of Chinese women. I read this book during college. It was the first time I’d really learned about the Chinese cultural revolution. I was shocked, amazed, and bewildered. It made me really stop and wonder about what else might be going on in our world while America gets fat.
5. To Kill a Mocking Bird – show me a person who has read this book and not felt changed afterward, and I’ll show you a person with no soul.
6. Blindness by Jose Saramago – I read this book while commuting to work on the subway in NYC. It’s an amazing “what if” tale. I literally wept in public as I turned the pages. Not for the faint of heart, but soul strengthening nonetheless.
7. King Lear – when I was a little girl I decided to take the hardest book I could find on my mom’s shelf and climb the willow tree for the day , hide there, and read the whole thing. I have no idea why I did this, but I did. The book I picked up was a collection of Shakespeare ‘s plays: Hamlet, King Lear, MacBeth, and The Tempest. I accomplished my goal, but long before I finished, somewhere in the middle of King Lear, I realized that I was enjoying myself. I could read Shakespeare and actually like it at the same time. Somehow, for me, this meant everything wash going to be ok. Not just that day, but for my life in general. I was going to make it.
8. This Side of Paradise – ahh fate. Once again, I was wandering NYC my first week there and I happened upon the NY public library – love those lions! I decided to drop in and get something to read. I wandered to the nearest shelf and picked up This Side of Paradise. I reasoned that it was about time I read another classic and I checked it out.
The following week I went on a date with a guy I was sure I would have nothing in common with. Then he told me he went to Princeton. I told him I was reading this great book all about Princeton. We were married 9 months later 🙂
9. The Book of Mormon – I didn’t just list this book to score points with God. I’ve read it more times than any other book I own. Each time I read it I learn something new, about myself, about the world, and about Christ and his love for us. It is a fascinating story from beginning to end. As far as literature goes, it’s one of my favorite tales, right up to the gut wrenching tragedy at the end. But as a religious text – and I’ve studied a lot of them – it’s truly the book that has brought me the most peace in troubles times.
10. Fahrenheit 451 – what can I say? I love books. I love Ray Bradbury. He loved books. This story made me want to be a writer. It made me want to fight back against those who don’t see the beauty in books. It made me want to share my stories, both true and dreamed.
Come on out and hang with me at Quail Ridge Books this weekend. I’ll be on the panel for the Teen Author Summer Slam on August 17th from 1-4pm. Snacks, prizes and other fun stuff will abound.
More info: http://www.quailridgebooks.com/event/teen-author-summer-slam
Cheers readers!
Today is the day! Happy Friday the 13th! To celebrate I get to show you my cover.
How do you like them apples? Pretty nifty, eh?
Here’s the info for prizes:
· One (1) ebook copy of The Perilous Journey of the Not-So-Innocuous Girl by Leigh Statham and a $10 Amazon Gift Card.
· Open Internationally
· Winner will be drawn June 20, 2014
· Winners will receive their book on release day
Rafflecopter Link (Winner will be drawn June 20, 2014):
Direct Link:
http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/share-code/YzA4YzllOGVhNjNmZDBjNGRjZjNjYzUwYzFhNDY1OjE5Ng==/
And just to sweeten the pot, if you are a fan from WattPad, leave me a msg with your WattPad username in the comments below and I’ll put you in a drawing for a ThinkGeek.com gift card.
Cheers all!!
I had the opportunity to write an article for the Books Make a Difference blog. Here’s me saying “Thank you!” and pasting the story in its entirety. (Will update with links ASAP)
Cheers, loves. Keep reading!
In late 2007 I was living in the vortex of a huge family hurricane. My husband was working away from home during the week. We had two small children and a third on the way. We had moved to a new town for a job that ended up being in another town entirely and I had no friends or family for support.
I hoped that I would make friends through my children’s friends. My oldest was only three years old, but like so many new parents, I was eager for him to be social. Unfortunately, the few play dates we were invited to he hid in a corner and cried. In church he obviously hated the music and cried when we left him in the nursery. There were a lot of other issues that, being a first time mom, I didn’t recognize as atypical. Oh, and did I mention he never slept? He stopped napping as soon as he turned two, every night was an hour long knock-down-drag-out fight that usually ended in pregnant me too exhausted to fight him anymore and just walking away from a child proof door. After that he’d get up two and three times in the night, sometimes screaming, sometimes singing. I never knew what I would get with him.
But then one day a new family moved to our church. They had a little boy just my son’s age. He wore noise cancelling headphones on Sunday and had a quietness about him that made him seem like the kind of kid who wouldn’t poke my sensitive son. Other people whispered about the family and talked about the boy having autism, like it might be contagious. I noticed that they weren’t invited to play groups or birthday parties either, so I decided to reach out and take a chance – what could it hurt? I was pretty sure things couldn’t get much more miserable and this strange little boy might be just the kind of friend my strange little boy needed.
The mom, Kristen, was lovely. We spent our first play date at her home where she immediately noted how tired I looked and offered me cheese and crackers. “You need your protein!” It was like I instantly had the friend I’d been looking for. I felt very few people had taken an interest in me or my life in a very long time and I almost cried in my cheese.
I told her about my sleepless nights, the tantrums, self injury, other kids tormenting him, and the fact that he didn’t have any real friends. She listened quietly and nodded, deep in thought. She didn’t say anything; she didn’t give me advice like so many other people had. She didn’t tell me to spank him and keep him in time out, or “just keep trying, dear!” – I was so sick of hearing those things. She simply gave me a hug and said, “I’ve got a book you need to read.”
It was called “The Out of Sync Child“. I wasn’t skeptical or offended at all, I took it gratefully. I was at my wit’s end. The book promised to walk me through several different types of disabilities and possible solutions for my son’s quirky behaviors. I had never considered he might have a disability before. I thought I was just a seriously crappy mother with a super touchy kid.
I’ll never forget lying in bed, unable to sleep after a particularly difficult Saturday. I picked up the book and started to skim through it. I quickly found myself sucked into the text. I’ve never been one for self-help books, but this book was actually interesting. It outlined in detail the similarities and differences children with different disabilities may have. But it did it in a way that an exhausted mother could understand. It also talked about why so many children go undiagnosed for years, even with more severe needs. I read until I came to a chapter with a quiz. I still wasn’t convinced that my child had an actual diagnosable issue, but I took the quiz anyway, answering the questions and turning quickly to the key with explanations. I thought, if anything, he’s probably got OCD and a touch of ADHD. Boy, was I surprised when my answers pointed me definitively to the autism spectrum.
I believe my first reaction was something along the lines of “what in the world?” peppered with expletives. I elbowed my snoring husband and made him wake up to look at what I had just discovered. He grunted, called me crazy, and rolled back over, but for me it was like someone had flipped a switch in my heart. I was both sad and elated at the same time. If this was really what we were dealing with, it answered so many questions. It meant that this was most likely not all my fault. I was most likely not a bad mother and my kid wasn’t just quirky or weird. He had real needs and there were people out there that could help us meet them.
Then it really hit me, hard – there were thousands of people out there that could help us! There were clubs and foundations and books and therapies and doctors and specialists and best of all, support groups full of potential friends.
I finished reading the book and I cried that night. I woke up in the morning able to look at my little boy with a new set of eyes. I promised him we were on this journey together and we’d find the people we needed to find together. Then I called my friend and thanked her for being brave and kind enough to give me that book. It changed our lives for the better, forever.
Synopsis:Terrorists have invaded Sydney, and Allison King barely escapes her brother’s wedding reception alive. She and her siblings flee, but their parents are killed by firing squad.
Now Ali’s on the run and terrified. While searching for other survivors, she is captured by the General who leads the invasion. He’s smitten by Ali, and when she refuses to submit to his whims, he brands her for death. In a wild act of defiance, she snatches the branding rod and sears the mark onto his face. Marking not only him but also sealing her fate. Ali manages to escape and flees into the bush once more where she finds a group in hiding. Even with the scars left by the General, Ali learns to love and falls in love with the young man who found her—Damien Rogers.
But the General is hunting her. When he discovers their location, and finds her with another man—Damien—his wrath is kindled and his obsession is inflamed. Ali must put herself on the line or the General could kill her family, those who help her, and most significantly, the man she loves.
This is a really intense book. Was it hard for you to write?
At time, yes, especially when I looked up forms of torture. Nasty stuff. You see elements of Nazi torture, and also animal cruelty. They weren’t pleasant reads.
Do you ever carry the mood of your books with you when you’re done writing for the day?
Certainly. Getting into a character’s head lingers.
The general is one messed up dude. You touch the surface of why he’s obsessed with Allie, but there isn’t any one major reason explained in the book. Is it just because he can’t have her? Or is there more to the back story than that?
For him, he just slowly went mad because of her defiance. At the beginning you see a fairly composed, intelligent man, but by the end he is acting rash and aggressive. At first he just wants her because he’s attracted to her, but as she becomes a symbol of defiance, he sees that forcing her into submission will win the war and break the rebel spirits.
Allie escapes and is captured multiple times in the story. Why was this important to your plot? What made you decide to write this way rather than an extended imprisonment like most terrorist stories these days? (I may have just answered my own question:)
Each escape shows important elements about some character or another. It also shows her defiance while also showing her human compassionate side. Her time in the “bush” also gives her hope for freedom one day and helps spread the word of her story.
Nick and Damien are both such strong and interesting men. Was it hard for you to decide how to resolve that triangle? (I don’t want to give anything away.)
Oh my yes. I tossed between several endings for most of the book. But the one I chose I feel has the most impact.
At the end of the Hunger Games, Katniss is basically a walking PTSD nightmare. How do you think Allie will handle the rest of her life?
I think since Ali lived a stable, normal life most of her life, then received intensive psychological treatment right away so she could testify, she will be fine. She will have some emotional scarring, but she is a fighter and with those she loves around her, she will bounce back.
Hello readers! Today we have the lovely Stacey Nash writing to us about the process she went through in giving birth to her book baby, Forget Me Not. Consequently, this is an awesome read and you should buy it right now – GO!
Without anymore shameless marketing or dumb birthing jokes here’s Stacey!
The Birth of a Story
In some ways books are like babies. First there’s the idea, then there’s the creation, (don’t think dirty thoughts) then after that there’s the birth. A lot of sweat, blood and tears go into making books!
When we talk about the idea, it’s really the story concept, and they come in all sorts and kinds. I’ve had stories come to me in dreams, and others grow organically, but the idea for Forget Me Not brewed over time. The basic concept had been floating around in my head for too long. It’s the first book I ever wrote, so I guess the concept was born from many years of reading and knowing what I love to read. Then there was my love of a good tongue in cheek conspiracy theory. I have always found them fascinating and enjoyed picking them apart.
After I had the basic concept of a secret organization who suppressed advanced technology from the public, the rest of the story grew and expanded as the book unfolded. That’s the creation. As I wrote, I discovered my main character, a tenacious seventeen-year-old, and her long time friend who just wants to look out for her. The actual plot came organically too, each chapter at a time. I just sat down in front of the computer everyday and the words fell off my fingertips. Kind of, that makes it sound a little too easy. 🙂
I guess you could say that Forget Me Not is the story of my heart. They say to write the book you want to read and that’s exactly what I did.
Stacy Nash is awesome. She’s an Aussie writer who, I’m pretty sure, the whole universe adores. I’m so excited to announce the birth of her book, Forget Me Not. And I can’t wait to read it!!
If you don’t know Stacey, you should. Look her up on Twitter, her website, and Facebook .
(P.S. I reblogged the following content from Louise D. Gornall – also a fabulous author.)
Don’t miss the give away at the bottom of the excerpt!
Don’t you love this cover? Now more about her book:
Since her mother vanished nine years ago, Anamae and her father have shared a quiet life. But when Anamae discovers a brooch identical to her mother’s favorite pendant, she unknowingly invites a slew of trouble into their world. When the brooch and the pendant are worn together they’re no longer pretty pieces of jewelry — they’re part of a highly developed technology capable of cloaking the human form. Triggering the jewelry’s power attracts the attention of a secret society determined to confiscate the device — and silence everyone who is aware of its existence. Anamae knows too much, and now she’s Enemy Number One.
She’s forced to leave her father behind when she’s taken in by a group determined to keep her safe. Here Anamae searches for answers about this hidden world. With her father kidnapped and her own life on the line, Anamae must decide if saving her dad is worth risking her new friends’ lives. No matter what she does, somebody is going to get hurt.
HAPPY BOOK BIRTHDAY TO THE ABSOLUTELY FABULOUS AND SUPREMELY TALENTED STACEY NASH…I CAN’T WAIT TO READ!!
An Excerpt…
The gas meter beeps when he reaches the top of the staircase. Coming upstairs seems kind of strange. I mean, surely gas leaks would have to be a kitchen thing. The beeping sets my teeth on edge, and I just want it to stop. Maybe there’s something wrong, but here in the upstairs hall?
“That doesn’t sound good,” I mutter.
“It means there is indeed…”
He twists, angling himself toward my open bedroom door, and his gaze locks on my dresser. The back of my neck prickles, a sure sign something about this just isn’t right. What the…I step past him and pull the door closed, but he pushes me aside and slams it open. Panic shoots through me, but I’m fast enough to dart around him. Turning my shoulder and reaching for the box.
He lunges toward me, grabs me from behind, and his arm pins my neck to him with a shoulder crushing grip. He pushes me against the dresser, and the box falls open, its contents spilling across the top. Heart pounding, my throat burns with a scream. I’ve got to get him out of here. He must know about my pendant, the brooch. Dammit. I wriggle to escape his vice-like grip, but it’s no use — he’s too strong.
My hand darts toward the pendant. I snatch it, but he grabs my wrist. Adrenaline tries to pound my heart right out of its home in my chest. If only I can get the jewelry on, I might be able to make its magic work and hide.
“Tech breech confirmed,” he speaks into his collar in a matter-of-fact tone; then he turns his gaze to me. “Give me the pendant.”
There’s a tiny ripping sound, like velcro torn open. A young guy in a black leather jacket flickers into my bedroom. A sharp gasp leaves me. I can’t escape one attacker, let alone two. Where the heck are these men coming from? I’m not going down without a fight, so I kick at my captor’s shins. The leather jacket guy wrenches the man’s grip from my shoulders and punches him square in the chin, knocking his head to the side. Shaking his head, the gas man stumbles backward.
The jacket guy raises his knee and drives a foot into the other man’s stomach. The straight, hard kick makes a loud thud and forces the dude to double over and curl in on himself. The leather jacket guy crouches and drives his fist straight up into the man’s chin. It knocks him flat on his back like a felled tree.
My chest rises and falls with my quickened breath. My heart thuds like a booming drum. The mysterious rescuer turns toward me, holding my gaze with intense, steady jade eyes. He grabs my assailant by the arm, and they both flicker out of my room.
My mind spins.
Legs, arms, body — I can’t move, but it doesn’t matter. Moving is the least of my worries. Who were they, and what just happened? The meter seemed to lead him straight to Mom’s pendant. Gas man, my ass.
I clutch my head in an attempt to stop my mind spinning, but my hand slides off my sweaty forehead and falls against my tightened stomach. What if they come back? The guy in the jacket…
What was that? The brooch, the pendant…my disappearing reflection. They wanted it. Damn.
Sweat trickles down my forehead and into my eyes. I wipe it away with a trembling hand. Questions hurtle through my mind, all jumbling together as they race faster and faster in my mind. Seconds, minutes, hours I don’t know, but a single thought emerges through the haze of my mind.
Will.
What others had to say…
“I certainly won’t be forgetting Nash’s debut, FORGET ME NOT! A vividly fast-paced tale with adventure, secrets, and kissing!” -Kimberly P. Chase, Author of THE APOLLO ACADEMY.
“Vivid, fresh, and unforgettable!” – Kimberly P. Chase, Author of THE APOLLO ACADEMY.
And now a giveaway…
About the Author…
Stacey grew up in the Hunter Valley of New South Wales. It is an area nestled between mountains and vineyards. Full of history and culture, it provides wonderful writing inspiration. After dabbling with poetry during her teen years, Stacey stopped writing until after university when she was married with young children. Now she loves nothing more than spending her days with her children and writing when inspiration strikes.
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