Showing posts with label Guest Post. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Guest Post. Show all posts

Wednesday, February 17, 2016

Guest Post with KH Mezek and her new release KEY OF MYSTERY ! @karenalainehunt #giveaway @bloggerbees @evernightteen #YA #Paranormal



Inspired by Adventure

Karen Hunt aka KH Mezek

Not long ago, I returned from a month in Costa Rica, staying at a friend’s house with an incredible view of Lake Arenal and the volcano in the distance. I was there on a mission: to work on Book of Angels, the second book in my Night Angels Chronicles. I flew from Los Angeles to El Salvador to San Jose, in Costa Rica, and from there I had to take a tiny Cessna plane through the clouds and a thunder storm to Liberia. I was the only passenger and I maintained a calm façade while underneath I was screaming, No!!!! Please get me there safely, please! And into the thunder clouds the pilot would happily fly. I was ready to kiss the ground when I arrived.
 

I have always been an adventurer at heart and a romantic. I remember the first time I saw Romancing the Stone and thought, oh, why can’t that happen to me! I wish I was mousey Joan Wilder, who writes romance fiction and dreams of her wild adventurer, sweeping her off her feet, and then, pow, it happens and she turns into a sexy beauty as a result.





And now, there I was in the jungles of Costa Rica, beneath a live volcano, writing just like Joan!

 I didn’t meet the man of my dreams, sigh, but I had plenty of inspiration to write about him, or rather, the fulfillment of Sera’s dreams: Peter, the otherworldly Night Angel with whom she falls in love. Of course, love is complicated, and Sera can’t be sure whether Peter returns her love or whether he is just pretending, in order to gain control of the key.
In Costa Rica, I was staying way up a hill, on a dirt road, with no form of transportation except my feet. All I did was write and dream. Ok, I drank beer, too, on humid afternoons with the sweat on my brow, the beer ice cold, and I would step outside and pick a couple of mandarins off the tree and squeeze the juice into the beer. I can still taste it and feel the breeze from the fan on my skin. On the occasions I ventured down the hill to the little restaurant, I had to pass the dogs that lived in the houses along the way. They were mean little creatures and they would bark and snap in an annoying fashion. Then, there were the wild dogs that would show up sometimes, not rabid, but vicious. I armed myself with a long staff and I had to literally fight them off. That was when I most felt like a character in my book — like I was on a quest, holding that staff and fighting my way down to my goal.  I also had to fight my way back up again but usually I could find some nice person to give me a ride.


I zip-lined, an experience that was terrifying and exhilarating at the same time—the best kind of adventure, where there is the potential for disaster but it all turns out ok in the end.
Besides Costa Rica, I have had the good fortune to write in some places with incredible views. But I would say the view I had in Costa Rica, of Lake Arenal below and the volcano in the distance, was one of the best.


Sometimes I would watch in fascination as a mist slowly enveloped the lake and crept up the mountain, as if it wanted to smother me. This was inspiring, because Key of Mysteryhas scary moments involving mist. Every afternoon the sky released a downpour of rain, complete with thunder and lightning. Another exhilarating experience, I never tired of it. Once, I got caught in a downpour in the middle of the jungle and I ended up soaking wet. I didn’t care. It was wonderful.

Where was my hero? Only in my imagination. But it was still fun to fantasize about him.
Maybe at my next destination, riding horses across the steppes of Mongolia, sailing down the Nile to Karnak, or visiting a temple in Tibet, a shadow will appear against the sky, a man in a hat, and it will be him. Maybe.
Or maybe not. Sometimes be best part of being in a relationship is imagining it.  Follow the path where it leads....in my case, I always take the one that leads to adventure. 



*    *    *    *    * 
Key of Mystery
by  KH Mezek

Evernight Teen Publishing, 77K
Paranormal/Vampires/Suspense/Multicultural


“Be careful who you love, it just might kill you.”

When Sera’s father is killed in a horrific accident, all he leaves behind is a mysterious key. Sera places the key on a chain around her neck and vows to avenge her father. Strange characters arrive in town including the otherworldly Night Angels, who claim to be sent for her protection.

Sera falls hard for one of them—exotic, arrogant Peter. But what if his promise of love is only a ruse to gain access to the key? As Sera’s connection to the key grows, so do her supernatural powers. Guided by clues left by her father, Sera searches for the hidden chamber beneath the city, hoping to save what lies within before the sinister mayor and his deadly followers drown humanity in a bloodbath.


Buy Links:    Evernight Teen    Amazon    All Romance eBooks



14+ due to adult situations
Excerpt:
Before my dad’s death and the move to Cliffside, I had known only lies. I hadn’t seen the truth about myself, my family, or my friends. But here on the ground, covered in blood and dirt, and most likely dying, I knew I didn’t want to go back there. I wanted to stay with the truth. The truth hurt like hell, but it was better than being numbed by ignorance.
“No.” I think I said it out loud, but it sounded more like a gurgle. I tried harder. “Never give you the key.” I gasped. “Never.”
He hissed in anger. “Then I will turn you into undead.”
“No.”
I knew he was bluffing. If he turned me into one of them, he would never get the key. I had to willingly give it to him, with a rational mind, and those undead were anything but rational.
Gore howled like he had on the plateau, and the nail raked across my face, penetrating deep into my skin. He reached down and licked the blood with his long snake tongue, a poison so painful seeping into my flesh that I almost passed out again.  
When he spoke next, his tone was venomous, each syllable biting as if they were his teeth. “Clever girl, I will do something better. I will turn your brother into undead. Think on that.”
I made a feeble sound of terror, struggling to get up and unable to move.
He laughed. “You will give it to me now. Or else your brother will end up like this.” He grabbed one of the undead and pulled the grotesque, dead-eyed face down next to mine. Then, he tossed it away like a stick.
This was the end, then. Gore had won. I had to at least try to save my brother, even if Gore's promises were lies. With unbearable effort, I reached up and tried to undo the chain. I couldn’t. I tried to pull it up over my head but somehow, it became tangled in my torn clothes. I was too weak and the problem of removing the key from around my neck overwhelmingly impossible.
“Come, little bitch, quickly.” Gore’s fingers dangled in front of my face, as if itching to undo the chain for me. But he was powerless to do so.
A growing uneasiness rippled through the undead standing in a circle behind him. Low moans rose from cavernous mouths. Any second now, surely Gore would unleash the hoard upon my brother to devour him. Why, oh why, couldn’t I undo the chain?
I grabbed the key and pulled with all my remaining strength, whispering, “I want this. I want to give him the key. I do.” 


About the Author:
Karen Hunt is the author and/or illustrator of nineteen children’s books and the co-founder of InsideOUT Writers, a creative writing program for incarcerated youth in Los Angeles, and the founder of the MY WORLD PROJECT, connecting youth who live in remote, violent and poverty stricken areas around the world through art and writing. She is a 2nd degree black belt in Tang Soo Do, a first degree brown belt in Eskrima, and a boxing and kick-boxing trainer. As a child, she and her family escaped out of Egypt right before the 6 Day War, lived in a 17th century castle in Switzerland and smuggled Bibles into communist countries, to name a few of her adventures. As an adult, she continued her adventures, living between London and a village in Yugoslavia. She writes her YA works under the name KH Mezek. Key of Mystery, book I in the YA Urban Fantasy series, NIGHT ANGELS CHRONICLES, was published February 5, 2016 with Evernight Teen. 


*     *     *     *     *
Giveaway:
 
a Rafflecopter giveaway

Tuesday, October 28, 2014

New Paranormal Teen Release... and a giveaway




The Strange Pleasures of Obsessive Dread- Victorian and Contemporary Horror
By Catherine Stine

I love horror, more and more. I blame it on my father who read me Edgar Allen Poe stories for bedtime when I was only eight or nine. Thanks, Dad. No, really!

Edgar Allen Poe, Mary Shelley and Christina Rossetti—these were some of the greatest Victorian masters of horror. They wrote during a time of extreme suppression of the passions. Ironically, this repressive mood inspired a huge outpouring of dark, gritty, evocative literature. Passions manage to burst out of people no matter how buried.

In 1818, Mary Shelley wrote Frankenstein, the quintessential misunderstood antihero. He was hideous and committed murderous acts, yet he had a human, breakable heart and sadly, understood how hideous he was. Shelley is credited with being the very first science-fiction author. Quite impressive for the time period when women were trussed in girdles and long, cumbersome skirts, and rarely had jobs much less illustrious careers.

Edgar Allen Poe is another master of mounting dread, with his ticking clocks, ghastly secrets, and moldering corpses in walled up sections of cellars. In his short stories The House of Usher and The Black Cat Poe wrote of an alcoholic’s nightmarish visions that might make even sane men murder cats and move crusty houses to snap to life.

Christina Rossetti’s brilliant poem The Goblin Market is a favorite dark Victorian gem. At first the plump little goblins selling fruits seem spunky and cute, but later, when the young women turn down their offers of treats, they become quite nasty. Many determine that the goblins’ aggressive behavior was a Victorian caution to women against considering sex with strange men. Here are some lines. See what you think:
No longer wagging, purring, but visibly demurring,
Grunting and snarling. One call’d her proud,
Cross-grain’d, uncivil; their tones wax’d loud,
Their looks were evil.
Lashing their tails, they trod and hustled her,
Elbow’d and jostled her, claw’d with their nails,
Barking, mewing, hissing, mocking,
Tore her gown and soil’d her stocking,
Twitch’d her hair out by the roots,
Stamp’d upon her tender feet,
Held her hands and squeez’d their fruits
Against her mouth to make her eat.

So, in Victorian times, people shared a dread of lurid, passionate sex, alcoholic-fueled visions, and creeping lunacy. In my young adult horror, Dorianna, I examine a very contemporary anxiety that emerged from social media: the dread of never having enough followers, enough Likes on Facebook, enough people Friending and following your Instagrams and Pinterest boards. It is also the hollow feeling that comes with sensing that the real problem lies way underneath—a psychological horror of alienation, loneliness, being left out of the party. With Dorianna, the problem also lies in what happens when she actually gets followers—a mega-ton of them—but those rampaging followers have a very different agenda than she ever imagined. Here’s a snippet from Dorianna where she’s talking about her next party, organized online:
I spoon in a hunk of chocolate and let it slide luxuriously down my throat. Lately, I’m so famished. For food, for clothes, for fans. Nothing ever seems to fill me up.
“Can’t wait to hear.” Bailey licks whipped cream off her spoon. “How many RSVPs do we have now?” she asks. The evite went out a week ago.
“This morning we had three hundred sixty-two yeses.”
“Holy Moly!” Bailey’s jaw drops. I study the oozy chocolate blobs floating on her tongue. “How will we cram all those people in my loft?”
“It’s a good problem, right?”
“Uh, yeah, if we had a stadium. Seriously, Mom will freak, and she’s normally very mellow. Where are they all coming from?”
“Mostly from a friend who goes to a school in Fort Greene.”
“Dorianna, we need to shut this thing down—take it offline.”
“We can’t do that.” Five thousand fan page followers and three hundred sixty-two attendees is not enough. No way. I can’t wait until the third event, where I’m going to bust it wide open.
As Simon Cowell of American Idol judge fame said: The ratings come in, you’re happy for five minutes, then the insecure madness comes.

What modern obsession or dread do you think would make a good theme for a horror novel?

 ***


DORIANNA
Catherine Stine

Contemporary/Paranormal Teen Romance
Released October 24, 2014


Internet followers, beauty, power. It all sounded good. Until it transformed into a terrifying reality Dorianna couldn’t stop. 

When her father is jailed, her mother ships Dorianna to her aunt’s house. Dorianna yearns to build a new identity, but the popular Lacey bullies her—mostly for getting attention from her ex, Ander.

Ander takes Dorianna to Coney Island where Wilson, a videographer, creates a stunning compilation of her. She dreams of being an online sensation, tired of being plain and lonely, and vows she’d give anything to go viral. Wilson claims he’s the Prince of Darkness and offers her the beauty and fame she's dreamed of—warning her that a pledge has its downsides.  Dorianna has no idea of how dire those consequences might be.


Buy links:  Evernight Teen    Amazon      



Excerpt:

On the way to my new school, I catch a glimpse of my face in a shop mirror. Even though I hate mirrors, I force myself to look. No one needs to remind me I’m plain.

Leaning forward, I examine my pale skin with its tracery of blue underneath. It looks like granny spider veins. And I never smile all the way. That would expose my wonky teeth—one front tooth slightly over the other. 

My hair’s limp, but it’s auburn with peachy highlights. I’ve got that going for me, at least. Lifting up a lock, I admire its warm glow in the September sun. And there’s still a hint of eagerness in my eyes––they haven’t knocked that out of me. It’s hope, whispering, “Maybe this place will be different. Maybe they won’t walk past me as if I’m floating dust.”

I’ve been here in Brooklyn for four days, shuffled away from family chaos to my Aunt Carol’s house. She’s nice so far, but I don’t really know her. It’s too bad we could never afford to fly east for family reunions. I do know she’s a fundraiser for a public radio station, and owns one floor in a brownstone. And that she eats vegetarian, and neatly folds the nubbly throws on her earth-tone Pottery Barn couch.

And she’s the sister of my screw-up father.

I’m not sorry I left Wabash. School there was a train wreck. It got so lonely, watching the reigning couples kissing their way down the halls. I wanted someone’s arms around me, too, or at least another good friend after Jen. But it wasn’t meant to be, after gossip spread that my father was sent to jail for committing moral turpitude. My mom took to her bed, and I took over. We were struck with loss and horror and shock all at once. Mom needed me last spring. I tried to help in any way I could, until she insisted that I needed a total break from the family. Or was it Mom who needed the break?

I’m going to suck it up. I am. If she needs the break, she can have it. Maybe I need one, too. I’m determined to pump myself up to face a different army of kids.

Ambling down Montague Street, past the cute boutiques, I soak in the balmy September sun and survey my new stomping grounds. These Brooklyn streets are as delicious as strawberry shortcake. The narrow shops are a wonder of necklaces, handmade with glass bits and bottle tops, and leafy bracelets fashioned from green computer chips.

The caffeine-laced scents wafting from the cyber café draw me in. As I walk by, I sneak looks at the lean, fox-quick boys with scruffy hair, low-slung belts, and tees that read Neon Pandas and Oubliettes of Onyx. Bands I’ve never heard of, since out in Hoosier Land they mostly play country music.

I smile, picturing myself talking to a slinky boy who makes me my very own playlist—he’d call it Songs for a Brooklyn Beauty. A girl can dream, right?

Turning down Court Street, a woman breezes past me in a black jumpsuit. Another dramatic beauty in thigh-high boots floats by, with two dachshunds tugging against their pink leashes. As I glance back at her, I imagine her working as a Broadway actress, dancing across a stage in those fancy boots.

Just then, one of her dogs works free of her grasp, and streaks into the street. “Hey!” I call. “Hey, pup!” I dash after it, grab the pink leather strap, and coax it back toward the curb as a bakery van careens around the corner, the driver pounding on his horn.

The booted lady runs over to me. “Thanks so much!” she says, breathless.

“Happy to help. Couldn’t let your sweet dog be hit.” Our eyes meet as I hand her the leash, and her smile touches me. I watch for another moment as she walks demurely on.

Everything here vibrates with possibility, if I block out my dread of school. It’s my chance to figure out who I want to be, which I couldn’t quite do back home. I can’t wait to let my old, stale-kernel life rot on the vine, and start over.

Reading the sign on a red colonial stone building, I sway with sudden trepidation: School. Ivy sprints up its scholarly walls, and its walkway is marked with marble planters. Each one bursts with purple chrysanthemums, as if this is the cheeriest high school ever. I’m here, no turning back. Look, you’re smart, I tell myself, you tested in and even got a scholarship here. Maybe private school kids are easier on new students. Unlikely, but I’ll give it my best.



Author Bio:
Catherine Stine’s YA novels span the range from science fiction to dark fantasy to modern horror. Her futuristic thriller, Fireseed One was a finalist in YA and SF in the USA News International Book Awards and an Indie Reader Approved notable. Its companion novel, Ruby’s Fire was a finalist in the Next Generation Indie Awards. She also writes new adult fiction as Kitsy Clare, and her Art of Love series (Model Position and Private Internship) is about Sienna’s artistic perils in NYC. Her YA paranormal, Dorianna is her new YA horror from Evernight Teen. Catherine’s love of dark fantasy came from her father reading Edgar Allen Poe to her when she was a child. She was also addicted to science fiction as a teen. The freakier the better! She teaches workshops in writing speculative fiction and is a member of RWA, SFWA and SCBWI.


Media links:

Subscribe to Catherine’s newsletter: http://catherinestine.us6.list-manage.com/subscribe?u=1fe566b1e53f7d3e95b7443e4&id=93554d599e
Twitter: https://twitter.com/crossoverwriter
Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/kitsy84557/
Blog: http://catherinestine.blogspot.com/
Website: http://catherinestine.com
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1018139.Catherine_Stine
Amazon author page: http://www.amazon.com/Catherine-Stine/e/B001H9TXJC/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1412807948&sr=8-1


Giveaway
Ebook of DORIANNA
Signed paperback of DORIANNA
V-neck Dorianna Playing with Fire T-shirt(L fitted)
~up to 25-page manuscript evaluation from Catherine
On any YA or NA novel in progress ~
$25 Amazon Gift Card

a Rafflecopter giveaway