(Better late than never? I’m not sure what went wrong with WP this time, but I’m really fed up with it. It either won’t publish scheduled posts, or it won’t publish at all–which was the case this month. I may revert to Blogger to make my life a bit easier. Anyway, here’s the post that should have gone live yesterday.)

The last Lunar Year was all about Tigers and big changes. 2023, the Year of the Rabbit, is going to give us a change of pace. In these coming months thoughtful action is going to be rewarded, and big risks, not so much. Think peace and patience!

I’m all for that! I’d love a little peace, and I really crave patience…I need it.

This is going to be year to check-in with our emotions, connect with our feelings and embrace them.

Right now, my emotions are set to high anxiety. I’m dealing with a lot of storm damage and clean up. Each time I think I’ve got everything under control…guess what? Something else happens that puts me back to square one. Patience required!

Are you a rabbit? Quick, but sweet in nature? I hope your year is a great one for you.

Our Twitter handle is @TheIWSG and hashtag is #IWSG.

The awesome co-hosts for the February 1 posting of the IWSG are

  Pat Garcia, Jacqui Murray, Gwen Gardner

Every month, we announce a question that members can answer in their IWSG post. These questions may prompt you to share advice, insight, a personal experience or story. Include your answer to the question in your IWSG post or let it inspire your post if you are struggling with something to say. 

Remember, the question is optional!

If you are an Indie author, do you make your own covers or purchase them? If you publish trad, how much input do you have about what goes on your cover?

I’m in both camps, and I have a different story about cover selection for every publication, so instead of going through all of my publishing experiences, let me just say that each book offers me a chance to go through the process as if it were my first. In other words, to get it “right.”

When I do it traditionally, I usually have input into my covers. The publisher will offer me some options and I can weigh in. Most of the time, I really like what the artist comes up with.

The three Indie books that I have out, I contracted with a cover artist, and I was totally impressed by what he came up with. After only a couple of tweaks, I had the covers I liked. Below is one of my Indie books.

One thing about taking a break from what you usually do daily is that your mind likes to take mini excursions into places it doesn’t often have time to visit. So while I was lolling around the house in December, it strangely and suddenly occurred to me that Superman was in deep trouble. He might still be leaping buildings in a single bound and peering through the walls of the bank vault with his electromagnetic spectrum vision, but where is he changing from Clark Kent into the super flying hero?

I haven’t seen a phonebooth outside of period movies in a decade.

I know. This sounds like the lead into a Jerry Seinfeld joke, but I couldn’t stop wondering. And then just last week, I discovered the answer. It’s what I call a Zoom Booth. Yes. It’s about the size of a phonebooth, but it’s soundproof and kind of sIeek with its metal and glass design. It appeared in my newly refurbished gym just when I was about to give up finding an answer to my question. What do you think? Is this the perfect 2022 replacement for Superman’s old changing room, or what?

Now, I admit that I haven’t seen the Superman & Lois series, so maybe the changing room issue has already been solved by the writers for that show. You can let me know, but if the writers haven’t come up with something as clever as the Zoom Booth, I feel I should let them know.

Now moving on to something totally unrelated, but important to me…

For those of you who follow me on Facebook, you’ll know that for two years I’ve been setting “virtual” destinations and walking to them. Walking every day for 3 or 4 miles (sometimes more on good days), was a substitute for not having access to my gym due to Covid.

My first challenge in 2020 was from the San Jose area to LA and back. That was a total of 696 miles. When I started, it was more of a joke than anything because I really didn’t expect to even get out of the town limits, but I was surprised how daily walks (almost daily…I wasn’t that strict) added up.

In 2021 I did a couple of challenges one was to Yosemite and the next was to Lake Tahoe, which meant I had to include a lot of steep trails if I was going to be “semi-accurate” in my virtual journey. The total miles were only 330, so I added deadlines to each trek to make the challenge more exciting. I didn’t make my first deadline, but I did just make my second one.

The benefits? I saw things on foot that I never saw from the window of my car. My calves became ready to take on just about any trail, and I gathered a rooting section along the way. One follower kept track of my mileage and my deadlines. That was really sweet.

So now I’m back at my gym. Back at a full schedule of Yoga and cardio. I still want to walk, but I’m going to have to create a different walking schedule. I just can’t do those daily miles. I need a new destination, and I’m excited about my walks in 2022!

I rambled on today, but sometimes it’s nice to set down what’s on my mind which might seem to have little to do with writing, but actually, it does. In December between thoughts about Superman’s predicament, I finished the first draft of a new book. And on all of those walks, I came up with ideas for stories or ways to fix ones I was working on.

Quote of the Week: “In the first place, you can’t see anything from a car.”
― ed abbey, author & essayist

I have a strong conviction that we should all have a place at this table of life. One of the ways to help that be a reality is through reading. If we read about people who are different from us, there’s a chance we can come to understand them and appreciate them for who they are. 

The other side of that coin is reading about people who are just like us, and through their stories, identify with their struggles and come to know we’re not alone after all. People who identify as “disabled” need those stories as much as any of us, and those stories should be as honest as possible.

My grandmother was one of the disabled people in my life, and I drew a lot on her experience while writing this book. I watched her lose her eyesight, fall into depression and despair because she couldn’t read or sew—her two favorite pastimes. Then slowly she rebuilt her life. In the end, she returned to the strong woman she’d always been, and she adapted to a different way of living. I think memories of her journey from sighted to blind might have contributed to the creation of Shattered.

Also available for purchase here:

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I’m now at the housecleaning stage of my launch: Sending books to winners of signed paperbacks and eBooks. I’m doing blog tours, sleeping off the effects of publishing, and reading more books. I’m a greedy reader, so when writing and publishing take most of my time, I get a little cranky. I thought I’d share a few of my reads from my Goodreads Challenge of 40 books this year which I completed last month. I think I have to up my challenge next time around.

• Before We Were Yours by Lisa Wingate
• Dead Wrong by Vannetta Chapman
• Last Girl Ghosted by Lisa Unger
• The Family Upstairs by Lisa Jewell
• Reaching for Family by Jemi Fraser
• The Seventh Tapestry by Beth Camp
• Finding Tessa by Jaime Lynn Hendricks
• The Wife Upstairs by
• Against All Odds by Jacqui Murray

Quote of the Week: “I cannot change the direction of the wind, but I can adjust my sails to always reach my destination.” Jimmy Dean

She’s heard about a cure locked away in a lab in Upper Michigan, and she plans on retrieving it. To do so, she needs a zombie. Not just any zombie, though.

Zee is Erin’s link to the lab. His connection to the living world is her bargaining chip. But only if she can teach him to control his mindless impulses.

Can a zombie be trained? Or will Erin be Zee’s next meal and become a zombie herself? The fate of humanity rests in her hands.

Excerpt
I rose with the sun. A yawn shook me as I wiped the sleep from my eyes. Before the world ended, I wasn’t a morning person. Most days I woke closer to noon. My job as a freelance writer allowed it. Like an idiot, I took it for granted. Now, if I wanted to get anything done, I had to do it while the sun was up and visibility was good.
Damn, I missed sleeping in.

I dragged my feet as I headed to the deck. Sunlight cast golden rays across the river. Waves lapped gently at the yacht’s side. The air was crisp, and my breath fogged.

I cracked open a bottle of water and took a sip. What I wouldn’t give for a cup of coffee. I used to have a canister of instant coffee, but I ran out three months ago. I was still chastising myself for not rationing it better. Later, I would go to the Soo Locks Park and stock up on supplies. I could barter for more there.

Acquiring coffee had to wait, though. My new friend needed to be checked on.

I scarfed down a breakfast bar before grabbing my shotgun and a backpack and clambered into the raft.

A moan pierced the air as I reached land. I secured the raft and darted to the base. I entered a small reception area.

A waist-high desk was near the door with a computer sitting on it. A few chairs were set in the center of the room.

Notifications hung on a cork bulletin board. Silence hung in the air as if the room was a bubble that somehow escaped the apocalypse. I almost expected to see Coast Guard personnel walk through the door and demand to know what I was doing.

I shook the feeling off and strode to the red cooler under a window. Flies swarmed around it. When I opened it, a sour stench assaulted my nose. I gagged, barely holding down my breakfast, grabbed a dead rat, and slammed the lid shut.

I walked to the tarp, removed a cinder block, and lifted the edge. Snarls greeted me. The zombie clawed at the sides of the earth. Hunger lit its eyes like fireworks. I lifted my shotgun and pointed it at its head. It stilled.

“That’s a good boy.” I lowered onto my knees. “You’ve been dead long enough to develop your basic instincts. How to walk and run. I’ve heard stories of zombies who forgot how to do that.”

The zombie watched me with narrowed eyelids. The color of its eyes had dulled to a muddy brown, and the whites were tinged yellow. Was it trying to figure out how to get out and eat me?

I smirked. “You should know how to hunt by now. Zombies sometimes hunt in packs. You aren’t as mindless as movies made you out to be.” I dangled the dead rat above it.

The zombie snarled, and spit flew from its mouth.

A surge of bitterness rose up my throat. The skin on my knuckles turned white from how tightly I clutched the rat by the tail.

This could’ve been stopped. Lives and the world could’ve been saved. She might still be here.

Take a Test…Will you survive the zombie apocalypse?

You wake up and find the zombie apocalypse has started. What do you do?
A: Take stock of anything you can use as a weapon, secure your home, and take stock of what food you have and how long it will last.
B: Get closer to look at a so-called zombie. This can’t be real.
C: Barricade yourself in your home and freak out.

Which of the following weapons would you use to kill zombies?
A: Gun.
B: Knife.
C: Baseball bat.

You’re making your way downtown in hopes of finding supplies. Along the way, you see a group of 4 zombies. They appear to be eating some unlucky sap. How do you get around them?
A: Backtrack and take a different route.
B: Run in with guns blazing and take them out.
C: Throw something that makes noise and causes the zombies to follow it.

Someone you love is now a zombie. How do you react?
A: Shoot them and put them out of their misery. It’s what you’d want if the roles were reversed.
B: Sob.
C: Capture them and put them somewhere secure in hopes of someone finding a cure.

You’ve found a group of survivors, but they don’t trust you’re not infected. How do you gain their trust?
A: Put your hands up and back away to show you are no threat. Leave. It’s not worth trying to reason with them.
B: Strip and show to show that you are not infected, setting all your weapons aside.
C: Insist that you are not infected, motioning to visible skin and lack of blood on your clothing.

Results
If you answered mostly A then you’ll survive. You take survival seriously and don’t take unnecessary risks. You’ll either do it alone or find people you trust. You may even end up the leader of the group.
If you answered mostly B then you are screwed. You don’t take stock of your surroundings, don’t exercises caution, and think you are invincible. And now you’re a zombie.
If you answered mostly C then you have a chance. Sure, the concept of the zombie apocalypse freaked you out, but you’ve calmed down and you’re hoping with enough gumption you’ll make it. If not, you at least plan on taking out as many as you can first.

Giveaway!
Ends August 31st.

About the Author

Patricia never set out to become a writer, and in fact, she never considered it an option during high school and college. She was more of an art and band geek. Some stories are meant to be told, though, and now she can’t stop writing.

Patricia lives with her husband in Michigan, hopes one day to have what will resemble a small petting zoo, and has a fondness for dying her hair the colors of the rainbow.

Social Media Links:
Website – http://www.patriciajosephine.com
Newsletter – http://www.patriciajosephine.com/newsletter
Goodreads - https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/13460894.Patricia_Josephine
Amazon Author Page - https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00UH7GAK0
Facebook Page - https://www.facebook.com/pjlauthor

I had to know the answer to this question: Who is your favorite character in the Disaster Crimes series?

Here’s what the author, Chrys Fey wrote. Thorn. Hands down. And what’s interesting is that he wasn’t a character I had planned. In Hurricane Crimes (Book 1) Beth and Donovan carried that story and are the only characters (aside from Hurricane Sabrina) until one bad guy comes in at the end. Thorn comes into the series in Seismic Crimes (Book 2) because of the case against the murderers of Donovan’s brother, an Internal Affairs investigator. He wasn’t supposed to have a big role, but he wanted to come back for an undercover string. And then again after the earthquake. Okay, I thought, you’re cool and funny, so I’ll let you come along for the ride. 

In Tsunami Crimes, we see him more often. We also see other sides of him. He’s not just the detective or the guy who likes to flirt with Beth to get on Donovan’s nerves. He’s also caring, comes to Beth and Donovan’s rescue, speaks wisdom to Donovan, and gets embarrassed when Beth cries. He was quickly becoming a character I wanted to write about more and more.

So, I did. In Flaming Crimes, Thorn is called upon by Beth and Donovan for help. We witness his impressive driving skills as a law enforcement officer, in fiery woods to boot. I also introduce a possible love interest…Amanda, and in doing that, uncovered yet another side of Thorn—his romantic heart. He was always a great friend, like a brother to Beth and Donovan, but he hadn’t had the chance to show any other aspect of love up until then. In Frozen Crimes, I expanded on that. I had to. It was too good to resist, and Thorn wouldn’t have let me. Before I even began writing Frozen Crimes, I knew Thorn would have his own story with Amanda.

I guess you could say Thorn stole my writer’s heart.

Pages: 154
Genre: Romantic-Suspense
Heat Rating: Hot

BLURB:

*A FIGHTING CHANCE is Book 6 in the Disaster Crimes series, but it’s a spin-off featuring a new couple, so it can be read as a standalone.*

Thorn has loved Amanda from afar, giving her whatever she needs as a survivor of abuse—space, protection, and stability. He yearns to give her more, though, to share his feelings, kiss her, love her, but he’s worried the truth will frighten her away.

And Amanda is afraid. She’s scared of her attraction for Thorn. Most of all, she’s terrified of her ex-boyfriend, who is lurking nearby where no one can find him. When she grows closer to Thorn, Damon retaliates, jeopardizing their happy ending.

Up against an abusive ex and Mother Nature, do Thorn and Amanda have a fighting chance?

Book Links: Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Kobo / iTunes

EXCERPT:

Amanda looked up from the current list of up-to-date payments for classes. A movement outside the glass storefront caught her eye. She tilted her head to see a man coming up the sidewalk from the side where the picnic bench sat. Through the vertical blinds, she glimpsed a square face—a short, rugged beard and long, dark hair pulled into a man bun. Her breath fled from her lungs. Her body went from icy cold to flaming hot in the span of a millisecond. She dropped to the floor and slid under the counter, beneath the ledge where they put their purses and cell phones.

“What—” Beth peeked at the windows. Then she snapped her fingers at April and pointed at the stools.

April jumped into action. She pushed the stools in so they blocked Amanda. The bell attached to the door jingled as April removed the jacket she wore and draped it across the stools, creating a curtain to shield Amanda.

From a crack, Amanda watched Beth move to stand in front of the twins, who were in their walkers playing peacefully. “I’m sorry, but we’re going to be closing.”

“I don’t give a shit. I’m here for Amanda.”

The sound of Damon’s voice had her heart beating even harder. That voice had haunted her nightmares, had come back to life in her memories.

Beth cocked her head to the side. “Who? There’s no one by that name here.”

“Don’t bullshit me. I know she works here.”

His voice was closer now.

***FREE FOR A LIMITED TIME***
THE DISASTER CURSE

Book Links: Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Kobo / iTunes

Author’s Note: I wrote The Disaster Curse to answer a few lingering questions readers may have after reading A Fighting Chance, and to tie the whole series together with a neat, shiny, perfect little bow. Plus, there was one disaster that I hadn’t written about yet. *wink*

The Disaster Crimes Series:

*The Crime Before the Storm (prequel)
Hurricane Crimes (novella, #1)
Seismic Crimes (#2)
Lightning Crimes (free short, #2.5)
Tsunami Crimes (#3)
Flaming Crimes (#4)
Frozen Crimes (#5)
A Fighting Chance (spin-off, #6)
The Disaster Curse (short story, #7)
*Free exclusive story to newsletter subscribers.

***LAUNCHING A WEBSITE***

TheFightingChance.org is a website dedicated to domestic violence and sexual assault awareness. Inspired by the Disaster Crimes series.

***GIVEAWAY***

Prizes: Hurricane Crimes (Disaster Crimes 1) and Seismic Crimes (Disaster Crimes 2) eBooks (mobi or epub), Hurricane Crimes Playing Cards, Girl Boss Sign, and a Volcanic Blast Scented Candle

Link: https://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/23d974a92670/

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Chrys Fey is author of the Disaster Crimes Series, a unique concept that blends disasters, crimes, and romance. She runs the Insecure Writer’s Support Group Book Club on Goodreads and edits for Dancing Lemur Press. https://www.chrysfey.com

Author Links:

 Newsletter / Website / Facebook Group /Blog / BookBub Instagram / Facebook / Twitter / Goodreads / Amazon

This is my entry into the WEP April event. I’m a bit puzzled about where it came from, but it came and that’s how it is. I”m looking forward to reading the others as they publish!

Those pearl earrings were mine, and I was going to have them back no matter what.

The Voice, the one I’d heard for far too long, said, “You are in another place now, Juliana. Let the material possessions stay where you left them.”

I could almost see the long finger of caution wagging at me, but I ignored it as well as the boring reminder of my altered state. I didn’t need that. I knew my situation all too well. But, I didn’t quite know how I’d manage the heist and restore those earrings to my possession. That was going to take some unearthing of proper procedures.

“Hmm. Unearthing.” I had the answer. All I needed was a willing digger. I just needed to find one. Next, I’d need an animator. There used to be one per village until the Inquisition, so there had to be some lurking here.

The back alleys of this place were overflowing with unfulfilled entrepreneurs, and so I set out to explore an area I’d avoided since my arrival. A visit to this dark side held a few risks, but those pearls were worth it. I needed something to make me feel good about myself. It had been a long time since I’d had anything to make me feel like the Contessa Juliana Costa da Verdi.

Of course, along my route The Voice nagged at me every step I took.
“Turn back.”
“This is a terrible mistake.
“There’s great danger in returning to fetch what you left. I’ve told you that.”
I stomped my foot and hissed back. “Stop. I know what I’m doing.”

I knew that The Voice could only go as far as the entrance to the dark territory. While there was no line drawn, I felt a barrier as I approached, and so for a moment I stopped.

“You will regret going in there,” The Voice said, and this time it sounded depleted.

For a moment, I hesitated, but my desire for what was rightfully mine swept over me again, and before I could change my mind, I stepped into the blackness of the other side. I hadn’t expected the icy air or the odd smell of creosote. I’d always thought this place would be filled with fire and steam and smell of the unwashed. Well, it wasn’t.sI crept ahead feeling my way through what felt like a narrow canyon until I spotted a flickering light ahead. Moving closer, I discovered a small flame with a hooded figure huddled around it. It didn’t look up when I stepped into the light.

“Excuse me,” I said. “I’m the Contessa Juliana Costa da Verdi.” My name used to turn heads and make people bow. The one seated at the fire didn’t seemed to hear me. I tried for attention again, louder this time. “I’ve come seeking a digger and an animator.”

The figure rose and towered over me. I was forced to look up at what I supposed was a face, but in this light and with the hood pulled down, I couldn’t be certain.

“I am that.” It was a deep, animal sound that came at me.
“A digger or an animator?”
“Both.”
“Oh, well, then you’re exactly what I need.” This was far too simple. I’d have to tell that nattering Voice just how silly those warnings really were.
“I charge.”
“Yes. I imagine you do. What?”
“A soul is my going rate. You have only to give me a name.”
I thought of one immediately. This would teach my dearly beloved to re-marry so quickly and to give my jewelry box along with my precious pearl earrings to his bride. “Done.”

I laid out my plan, named the soul, and asked, “So when can I expect your service to be complete?”
“Come.” Like a shadow, the digger-animator moved back down the canyon, and I followed. It was a relief to come out of that dark place until The Voice started again.
“How did you bring this into our side?”
“I hired it for a job.”
“You paid?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, Juliana. You have made such a terrible mistake.”
The way he said that, did give me an anxious moment, but I had a mission. I would not be stopped now. “You’re nothing but a naysayer and worry wort. Go away.”
“You have set loose unimaginable tragedy.”
I think those words were followed by a sigh. Silence came after that, and I was left alone with the giant hooded figure.

Without a word he led the way until we came to a familiar spot. Not my favorite one, but at least I recognized it, and I knew this digger-animator was going to complete the task.
It didn’t take long to bring up the coffin. I really hated opening it, but it had to be done. And what a mess I was. I’d hoped some of the preservation techniques would have kept my lovely body in tact, but no.
Before I recovered from the shock of seeing the rather vile remains of the Contessa Juliana Costa da Verdi, the figure placed a massive hand on her chest. And up she came. Juliana still had some kick in her. I smiled as I reconnected with the old, although greatly damaged, me.

“Now, I’m off to fetch those earrings. Thank you,” I told my animator.
I started away, stumbling over the uneven ground because no one had thought to put shoes on my feet for my burial. When I looked back, the figure was following me.
“You may go.”
Still it came along behind.
“Why aren’t you returning where you belong?”
“I now belong here. You gave me a soul, and I’m taking it.”
“Then what?”
I could make out a smile, but it had no humor in it.
“Then all that is the soul’s becomes mine.”
“Not my earrings!”
“I’m afraid so. Everything in that jewel box. Everything in the estate.” Sweeping back the hood, the new Conte Costa da Verdi looked down at me. “You’re quite a mess, you know.”

He strode away, and in the far distance I heard The Voice, “Poor Juliana. Forever to roam between death and life.”